Airplane (4)

Murder was bad news. Any other police force in the country and a murder investigation could prove the making of his career, but out here on Boonhill all it meant was that the mainlanders would take over the case entirely. Handsome wouldn’t be trusted with directing traffic.

 

He tried ringing Anderson’s phone, but he didn’t answer. He could go back to the crash site, the ‘murder scene’ as it now was, but he knew he’d be ignored. With nothing else to do he crossed the road to the Boonhill Café, as was, now converted into the Boonhill Police Station, though for some reason they’d never gotten round to taking down the ‘The best egg and chips in Town’ sign.

 

Megson was behind the reception desk as he walked in.

 

“Morning Kit,” he said.

 

“Morning Tyrone,” Handsome said. “I’ve heard about the bomb. Anything for me to do?”

 

“We’ve got a murder suspect for you to interview.”

 

“Really? Anderson’s letting me interview a suspect?”

 

“Anderson doesn’t know. Of course I could always tell him.”

 

The reality dawned on Handsome. “You mean SuperDuck?”

 

Megson grinned. “We picked him up on a drunk and disorderly, but he confessed to bringing down the plane with his superpowers. Apparently he saved mankind.” Megson paused, as if to check some papers. “For the seventeenth time.”

 

“I’d better get it out of the way. Are we charging him for the D&D or can I let him go?”

 

“He’s had a few hours to sleep it off. Let him go I think. Don’t want a man in a duck suit in our cells during a murder, do we.”

 

Handsome tried to think what Anderson would say if he saw him. At the best of times he was contemptuous about the work of the Boonhill police, if he found they went around arresting men in duck suits during murder investigations, well, he might try and get the force shut down.

 

“I just need to freshen up. Get SuperDuck in the interview room.”

 

Handsome didn’t need to go to the toilet, but he wanted to see to his moustache, which had been unattended all day. He’d grown it out in order to please Sally, his new girlfriend on the mainland, but left to its own devices it had gone out of control and it looked like a wig had blown onto his face.

 

He hoped Megson didn’t notice the change. It could look strange, preening your moustache before interviewing a drunk in a duck suit, but it’s a confidence thing.

 

“Brian,” he said to the suspect as he entered the interview room. “Or should I call you SuperDuck?”

 

“Quack,” said the suspect. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in an odd arrangement of clothes, which included a T-Shirt with a big D on it and a sort of cape, made from recycled curtains. Mad Brian, as he’d previously been known, had been the bane of Handsome’s life for over a decade, a frequent visitor to the cells on D&D charges and similar petty crimes. The duck thing was new.

 

“I’m told you have something to do with the plane crash?”

 

“Quack.”

 

“Can you speak English?”

 

“If you like,” said SuperDuck.”

 

“I’d prefer it. Only I don’t speak duck. So tell me about the plane. How did you bring it down? Did you plant a bomb?”

 

“No, I brought it down with my bare hands.”

 

“I see. And why did you do that?”

 

“To save mankind. It was flown by an evil villain who was going to drop nuclear bombs everywhere.”

 

“So you’re admitting to killing the pilot. You’re not worried that you’ve confessed to murder.”

 

“I don’t care what you charge me with, I’m SuperDuck, I can escape any of your mortal prison cells. I admit to bringing down the plane last night, on Monday last week, on 17^th July, on 6^th June, on 4^th April and on 3^rd January.”

 

“You’re admitting destroying the same plane on six separate occasions. Funny we only just noticed.”

 

“You’ve not been looking properly. I knew it was up to evil, sneaking in when nobody was awake.”

 

“Nobody but you.”

 

“It’s what I do, I’m SuperDuck. I watch out for mankind.”

 

xxx

 

Handsome concluded the interview with an instruction to lay off the booze, which he knew Mad Brian would ignore, but he had to say it anyway. He always did.

 

“Let him go Tyrone, and when you’ve done that call Prescott at the docks, find out if the same boat left for the mainland last Tuesday, and on 18^th July, 7^th June, 5^th April and the 4^th  January.”

 

“You got a hunch Kit?”

 

“You bet I have. And you know my hunches, they’re never wrong.”

 

While he was waiting he called Sally, to tell her he’d be busy the next few days because he was working on a murder investigation. She sounded suitably excited by the news. “You can tell me all about it tonight,” she said. “How’s the ‘tache.”

 

“Big and bushy.”

 

The phone call lasted ten minutes, with the majority of the call unsuitable to be repeated her. When he finished the call Megson had news.

 

“It’s Saville,” he said. Brendon Saville was the biggest villain on Boonhill and everybody knew it, except Handsome had never managed to find any evidence. He lived in a big house, owned a number of boats and cars, and any number of registered ‘businesses’, yet how he actually made his money was a mystery. Handsome had always assumed it was drugs, but rare animal smuggling fitted as well.

 

“SuperDuck saw the plane on five previous nights this year. On each occasion Saville made a trip to the mainland the next day. It fits, he’s the only one with the manpower, the trucks, the boats and the connections. I’m going to take Harkaway and drive over there now. Phone Anderson, get him to join me. He must have made preparations for the animals, with any luck we’ll find a clue, a cage, tropical bird food, rhino repellent …”

 

“I get the picture Kit. You go over there, I’ll call Anderson.”

 

Harkaway drove. He was almost recovered from the air sickness. “He could have been doing this for years,” Handsome said. “The plane flies in late at night, or in the early hours of the morning, the animals are loaded into trucks, then onto his boat, and he sails off the next day to the mainland.”

 

“Why not just take a boat to the mainland? Why stop here.”

 

“Speed, I assume. These animals don’t travel well. But you can’t fly a plane straight onto the mainland, they have radar, all sorts of tech, so you stop the plane here, switch to a boat. We finally know how Saville made him millions.”

 

They reached Saville’s place. It was isolated, almost a mile from the next house, the perfect place to keep a secret menagerie.

 

The front door was open, so the two officers walked in. He heard voices from the back of the house.

“Brendon,” he called, “it’s me, Kit.”

 

The only response was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. Unarmed, though he was, Handsome didn’t hesitate, he ran towards the sound.

 

A figure ran out in front of him, headed to the rear exit, dressed entirely in black.

 

“Stop,” Handsome called, but of course he didn’t. Kit would have been better off saving his breath for the chase ahead of him.

 

“You see to Saville,” he said to Harkaway, “call medical assistance, ring Anderson, do what you can for Saville. I’m going after the villain.”

 

He followed the dark-clad figure through the house, and into the garden. He was actually gaining on him, the figure was less than 50 metres ahead of him. Then suddenly he stopped and turned to face him. His face was masked behind a balaclava, but Handsome could tell it was a stranger, he’d recognise everyone on Boonhill, mask or no mask. It was that sort of island.

“I don’t know why I’m running,” the man said. “I’m the one with the gun.”

As if to prove a point, he raised his pistol and pointed it straight at Handsome’s face.