The Case of the Suspicious Wardrobe

 

This was no ordinary case. I had that feeling, pricking at the back of my neck; could sense that there

would be more to this than met the eye. It just didn't add up. There was something missing.

Something, somebody, wasn't letting on.

The phone call for starters, now that was odd. Some dame, Susan, worried about her kid sister.

Said she keeps disappearing, coming back, and saying odd things. Sounds like boy-trouble to me.

Either that, or a secret stash of Vodka. These young kids today, going round pretending they're all

innocent – they're the ones you gotta watch out for.

But no, it's gotta be more than that. Her voice, down the line, all strained and hushed, like she was

whispering – didn't want anyone else to hear. I could of sworn she said 'lion', but she must've meant

'lying', and when people start bending the truth, you know there's something fishy going on.

Something not quite kosher. Nah, there's something else here, I know there is, and I'm determined

to get to the bottom of things. You're damn right I will, or my name's not Ed McBlame.

* * *

The rain was pouring down in sheets, kicking up off the gravel drive, and splattering mud across

the windscreen. It had been a long, grim journey out of London. A grey, dismal day, but the weather

this past hour had definitely taken a turn for the worse. Ed prided himself on following directions;

was in his nature to be accurate and precise, but on this occasion he'd taken several wrong turns,

and so was in a foul mood when he finally pulled up at the front entrance of the Professor's house.

'Good afternoon, Sir. May I be of assistance...?'

'Ed McBlame, at your service ma'am. I'm here to see Miss Susan, she'll be expecting me. And

you are...?'

'Mrs Macready, the Professor's housekeeper. Susan hasn't mentioned anything, but do come in Mr

McBlame. Here, let me take your coat. Such terrible weather we've been having of late, isn't it?'

'Yes indeed. But I'm not here to talk about the weather, there are far more important matters to

attend to. Now if you'd be so kind...?'

'Oh really? Oh dear...certainly sir. You'd best follow me then, right away.'

One hell of a place this Professor character has here, that's for sure. All these rooms – must be

dozens and dozens of 'em. And stairways, leading off every which way. Long, narrow passages,

balconies; even a suit of armour for Chrissakes! Kinda gives me the creeps. Hope it's not a body

we're going to be looking for; never find it in a place like this. No sirree, don't want no stiffs.

* * *

'Well, it's like this see, Mr McBlame. We'd not long arrived here, and it was raining and

everything, so we decided – well it was Peter's idea really – we decided to go exploring.'

'Yes, yes, and...?'

'There was this room. Empty. Nothing in it except for this big old wardrobe, so we all just went

out again. Except for Lucy that is.'

'Lucy?'

'My sister, the one I'm trying to tell you about.'

'So what happened?'

'Well that's just it. I don't know exactly. We walked back out into the passage way, and then Lucy

comes running after us, all flustered and excited, shouting “I'm back, I'm back”. Says she

thought we'd have been worried about her because she'd been gone hours and hours...'

'When was this exactly?'

'Just after breakfast. Half seven maybe? Friday last.'

'Friday, July 29th, at 0730 hours. Carry on, carry on.'

'Edmund, he's my younger brother, called her “Batty”, but Peter just tried to humour her – thought

she was being funny because she'd been hiding, and none of us had noticed.'

'Sounds logical to me.'

'But no, that's where you're wrong. Then she started telling us that it was a magic wardrobe, and

that she'd gone through it into some strange land with snow and a wood. 'Narnia' she called it.

And she'd met a faun, can you believe it? Mr Tumnut or some such, who went on about a wicked

queen, and it's not like Lucy to make up stories. She's always so honest, truthful.'

'Mmm, curious. So, do you think your sister's telling the truth?'

Well, yes. I believe she is. But we all went and looked, and it wasn't anything like she'd said. It

was just an ordinary, solid, wooden wardrobe, with a few moth-eaten old fur coats hanging in it.'

'So let me get this straight. There's three, no, four of you, right? And your kid sister, Lucy, claims

that she's found a magical, secret entrance into another world, right? Where it's the middle of

winter, and bad evil queens, and mythical creatures, like fauns, live there. Is that right?'

'Well I...'

'You gotta be kidding me. I'm a respectable private detective, and you've called me out on some

kinda hoax, some crazy pretext of your fruit cake sister's? Hey, I'm outta here doll. I've got better

things to be spending my time on. Real cases, important things. I'll be sending you the bill.'

'No, please, Mr McBlame, wait. There's more. Lucy's not the only one who's been there. To

Narnia, I mean.'

'What? You're trying to tell me that you can corroborate the evidence? That you have secondary

proof? A witness? No way. There ain't no way – you've gotta be nuts too.'

'Edmund, the one that was teasing her, calling her names. He's been there too. He didn't own up at

first, but we found out. So it must be true. And apparently there's a great lion, that talks, called

Aslan, and...'

* * *

Jeez, what a day. Why can't I get called up on some regular job? Things have been tough,

business real slow, but that? That was just schizo. And what was that dame trying to take me for –

some kind of schmuck or something? I need a drink. A double. On the rocks. Will put it down as

expenses. And the mileage – talk about middle of nowheres-ville! Give me some broad playing up

behind her daddy's back any day. A straight out murder, something simple; anything but that

twisted baloney. Yessirree, that sure was one helluva day.