“Actually, I didn’t,” said Jack. “Might we have a look at this calculating pocket?”
“Certainly,” said Tinto, and he rootled beneath the bar counter and brought out something that resembled a bag made out of shiny fabric. “Wallah,” went Tinto.
“Wallah?” went Eddie.
“Wallah,” went Tinto. “That’s the calculating pocket’s name.”
“Wallah?” went Jack.
“Yes?” said Wallah. “How can I help you?”
Jack looked at Eddie.
And Eddie once more looked upon Jack.
“And there was me thinking that I’d seen everything,” said Jack, “what with the space chickens and all. Where did you get this calculating pocket, Tinto?”
“I do have a name,” said the calculating pocket.
“Excuse me,” said Jack.
“Won her in a competition,” said Tinto. “You have to work out the number of gobstoppers in a bigjar.”
“And you got that right?” asked Eddie.
“Well, I had a little help,” said Tinto. “I asked to meet the prize first, before I bought a ticket to enter the competition, and I asked her to work it out.”
“That’s called cheating,” said Eddie.
“And your point is?” Tinto asked.
“No point at all,” said Eddie. “But it was dishonest.”
“Possibly so,” said Tinto, “but then so is engaging a barman in conversation in the hope that he will forget to charge you for your drinks.”
“You can put a ‘Hm’ in about now if you wish, Jack,” said Eddie.
“Hm,” Jack put in.
“So pay up, or you’re barred,” said Tinto.
Eddie sighed, pawed his way into a trenchcoat pocket, wormed out a wallet and set it down upon the bar top. “Help yourself,” he said.
Jack viewed the wallet and Jack viewed Eddie.
Tinto helped himself to money and wheeled himself off to the till.
“Where did that come from?” Jack asked.
“Count Otto’s pocket,” said Eddie.
“You stole his wallet?”
“Well, he won’t be needing it now, will he? He’ll be needing heavy sedation and a straitjacket.”
“I’m sure there’s some kind of justice or moral in that,” said Jack, “but for the life of me I can’t think what it might be.”
“I’m sure there must be somewhere,” said Eddie, “if you think very hard about it. Same again?”
“I haven’t finished these yet.”
“Then drink up, it’s Count Otto’s round once more.”
“I’ll have a short, if I might,” said Wallah the calculating pocket.
Jack reached forward and picked up Wallah.
“Put me down,” said the pocket.
Jack shook the pocket about.
“And don’t do that, it makes me feel sick.”
“How do you think it works?” Eddie asked. “It’s probably empty – have a look inside.”
“Don’t you dare,” said Wallah. “We hardly know each other.”
“Just a little peep,” said Jack.
“Certainly not,” said Wallah. “Not until you’ve bought me a drink, at least. What kind of a pocket do you think I am?”
“A female one for certain,” said Jack.
“Don’t start,” said Eddie. “I know where that line of thinking is going.”
Jack returned Wallah to the counter top. “This is all very entertaining,” he said.
“Not that entertaining,” said Eddie.
“Well, maybe a bit,” said Jack, “but it’s not helping us, is it? That other you and me will probably be coming back tonight to perform more evil deeds. Suck the life out of more innocent citizens of Toy City. They have to be stopped, Eddie, and we have to stop them.”
“I know,” said Eddie. “But I don’t quite know how.”
“We go back to Toy Town,” said Jack, “get our hands on those weapons at Bill Winkie’s. Lie in wait, then blow the blighters away.”
“Blow the blighters away?”
“Bang, bang, bang,” went Jack, and he mimed blowings away. “Case closed and we collect the reward.”
“Case closed, perhaps, but there’s no reward.”
“Then we’ll settle for case closed.”
“No,” said Eddie, taking further beer. “It’s not enough. That other me and you, they are evil cat’s-paws for some big boss somewhere, who wants whatever is in those jars. The soul-stuff of the murder victims, or whatever it is. It’s the big boss we’re looking for.”
“Fair enough,” said Jack. “I’ll hold the cat’s-paws at gunpoint and you can bite the details out of them.”
“That does have a certain brutal charm.”
“I hate to interrupt you,” said Wallah, “but you really are going about this all the wrong way.”
“Excuse me, please,” said Eddie, “but Jack and I are professionals. We are private detectives. We know our own business.”
“Oh, get you,” said Wallah. “Too proud to take some kindly offered advice.”
“I didn’t say that,” said Eddie.
“You did, in so many words,” said Jack.
“Please yourself, then,” said Wallah. “Don’t listen to me. I don’t care.”
“We’d like to listen,” said Jack. “What would you like to tell us?”
“He doesn’t want to listen,” said Wallah.
Eddie shrugged.
“Yes, he does,” said Jack.
“He doesn’t, and he’s not even funny. You should get yourself a better comedy sidekick than him.”
“Cheek,” said Eddie, raising a paw.
“Don’t hit me,” cried Wallah.
“He’s not hitting anyone.” Jack moved Wallah beyond Eddie’s hitting range. “Talk to me,” he said. “You’d like to talk to me, wouldn’t you?”
“Actually, I would.” Wallah’s voice was definitely female. Jack gave Wallah a little stroke.
“What a lovely soft hand you have,” said the calculating pocket.
Eddie turned his face away. “I’m going to the toilet,” he said.
Tinto returned with Eddie’s change, but finding no Eddie returned this change to his till.
“I could help you,” said Wallah to Jack. “I could help you to solve this case.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Jack, and he gave unto Wallah another little stroke.
Wallah the pocket gave a little shiver.
“How exactly could you help us?” Jack asked.
“There is an expression,” crooned Wallah, and it was a crooning little voice, “in crime-solving circles, when seeking a culprit of a crime involving theft. That expression is ‘follow the money’.”
“I don’t follow you,” said Jack.
“I haven’t finished yet,” said Wallah. “These present crimes – the murdered monkeys and the clockwork band – your comedy sidekick is right in that you must follow the money, as it were, to the big boss. But doing so will require a degree of calculation that you and your sidekick, and no offence intended here, are not sufficiently skilled in making. And that’s where I come in.”
“I still don’t exactly follow you,” said Jack, but he gave Wallah another stroke. And Wallah sighed. Erotically.
Jack withdrew his hand.
“Please don’t stop,” whispered Wallah.
Jack stared down at the calculating pocket. There was something not altogether wholesome about this.
“Further crimes will be committed,” Wallah crooned further. “And in order to get ahead of the game and succeed, it will be necessary to calculate where these crimes will take place and what they will be. And that is where I come in. Let me help you. I really can help you. I really can.”
“How, exactly?” said Jack once more.
“Lean over a bit and let me whisper.”
Jack leaned over and Wallah whispered.
Eddie returned from the toilet.
“Why exactly,” said Eddie, climbing up onto his barstool, “do blokes feel it necessary to pull all the toilet rolls out and throw them all over the floor? And will someone please explain to me the purpose of flavoured condoms?”
“Stop, please!” said Jack. “That’s quite enough of that.”
“Do you use flavoured condoms?” asked Eddie. “And if so, what flavour? I’d have thought chocolate was out of the question.”