Re-introducing the Five Find-Outers and Dog
The Mystery of the Policeman
ONE
First Up the Agenda Is…
"They do take forever to come," said Bets impatiently, pushing her nose up onto the window and trying to see through the fine mist that was settling over the village of Peterswood, and making the window fog.
"Oh, don't be so impatient," said her brother Pip, carefully wrapping a Christmas present. "They'll be here soon. Wrap a present while you're waiting.
"I know they'll be here soon, but they just take so long to be here," said Bets, sighing rather miserably. "And I don't want to wrap my presents— they'll all end up like lumpy packages. I'll ask Fatty to help me wrap them. He does his so beautifully and neatly. And with the nicest paper too."
"Blow! I just taped this thing wrongly," said Pip crossly. "Now I'll have to rewrap it."
"You ought to wait for Fatty to come and ask him help you do yours," said Bets absently, staring in vain through the mist.
"And have Larry and Fatty tease me? No, thank you," retorted Pip, now meticulously trying to take off the wrongly stuck tape.
"I was just trying to help you— OH! LOOK! THEY'RE HERE!" she suddenly shrieked, and then ran out of the room like a mini hurricane, knocking over Pip's half-wrapped present. Pip ran off after her and they happily greeted Daisy, Larry, Fatty and Buster in a noisy, endearing manner.
"You do look half frozen," said Bets, after boisterous greetings were exchanged.
"Come sit by the fire," said Pip, leading them to the fireplace, Buster barking excitedly and nipping playfully at their ankles.
"Now, now, Buster," chuckled Fatty, "we're not old Clear-Orf, are we?"
"Look at him run!" said Bets, laughing. "It's as if he hasn't been let out since summer!"
"Well, no one's free to take him for a walk, so he's mostly shut up in the house," said Fatty, sitting down comfortably on the sofa. "Say— anyone's seen old Clear-Orf lately? I've not seen him once since I returned two days ago."
"He's been having cold," explained Pip. "Mummy said so. She said that another officer was taking over his shift— some one called P.C. Oxley."
The five shook their heads.
"If Goon's not able to go about the village, then he won't be able to interfere with anything we're doing," said Fatty. "Oh, this is grand."
"I wouldn't say we won't be interfered," said Pip. "Bets and I've seen Oxley before, and he doesn't look nice. He's always sniffing the air like some bloodhound, and behaves like a—"
"Fox," said Bets solemnly. "I think his name ought to be Foxley instead of Oxley."
At this everyone else roared with laughter.
"Foxley!" said Larry. "That's one classic joke, Bets, that is."
"Speaking of jokes, that reminds me of disguises," said Fatty, his eyes twinkling. "I picked up a few of them during school term."
"How?" asked Daisy.
"Our drama master had us clear the room used for storing props and costumes, and I snuck some away from the unwanted pile," Fatty said. "So now in addition to butcher boy and telegram boy, I've got milkman and plumber outfits, and—"
"They sound smashing," said Bets, looking out of her mind with excitement. "Can we go over to your house and try them now?"
"Try what now?" came Mrs. Hilton's voice. "Hello, Frederick, Larry, Daisy. It's really good to see you three again. Bets has been going out of her mind with anticipation since she had your letters telling her what day you'll be arriving."
"Too true she has," muttered Pip, and Bets shot him a glare.
"Well, I must say, Frederick, each time I see you, it seems as though you've shot up a couple of inches! You're almost as tall as me now," said Mrs. Hilton, shaking Fatty's hand.
"Well, Mrs. Hilton, I recently took up basketball at school, and it's certainly helped me increase my height. I've been chosen to represent the school, and the coach said that I was rather good at it—"
"Show off," whispered Larry, Pip, and Daisy together, grinning. Fatty shot them a look, and Mrs. Hilton took the chance to intervene Fatty's talk.
"Larry, you've grown too. You're even taller than Fatty now. Pip's still rather small— I do hope he'll grow more."
"I have grown, mummy," said Pip indignantly. "I grew half an inch since summer."
"Which isn't much," muttered Bets, and Pip shot her a glare.
"Pip! Bets!" said Mrs. Hilton sharply. "Would you five and Buster like a cup of cocoa each?"
"Oh, mummy, we were going to Fatty's and trying on his dis—"
"Shhh, Bets!" hissed Pip, Larry and Daisy together.
"De- stressing records," finished Fatty hurriedly. "Mozart, Beethovan, Haydn, and some other classical composers. They really help us to de-stress, Mrs. Hilton. Wonderful music, Mrs. Hilton. Sheer genius."
Mrs. Hilton looked rather impressed at Fatty's knowledge of music. "Beautiful music, I agree, but you five shall not go out in this weather. The mist is turning into fog, and I don't want to risk you five getting lost."
"But, mummy!" protested Pip, and he was given a look by his mother that clearly indicated "no and that is final."
"I'll go along and ask Jane to help make the cocoa," said Mrs. Hilton, and giving them a final smile, she left.
"Blow, Fatty!" said Daisy rather dejectedly. "Now we can't try out your disguises."
"Oh, it's ok, it isn't as though my disguises will disappear into thin air by tonight," said Fatty airily. "We can always plan our agenda for the hols now."
"What's agenda?" asked Bets curiously. "Is it like when you have to solve a mystery? Oooh— do you have a mystery up your sleeve?"
"No, an agenda is nothing like solving a mystery," explained Fatty patiently. "An agenda is something like planning an itinerary. Like planning what to do. For example, planning to lay tricks on Foxley."
"Can we put that on the top of our list?" asked Bets in delight. "He yelled at me just because I was looking where I was going."
"He did?" said Fatty, looking horrified. "Goodness, he must be a right miserable hag. Almost as bad as Goon, then. You are right, Bets, we ought to punish him. Let's start planning trick number one…"
The rest squealed in delight and leaned in to contribute their fair share of ideas when Mrs. Hilton suddenly came in with five mugs of cocoa on a tray. "Here you go," she said, at the door.
At once the five children withdrew from the tightly-knitted circle and began talking loudly about Christmas wish lists, and Buster barked merrily, capering about them.
Mrs. Hilton handed them the cocoa, looking at them strangely. I do hope they haven't got anything up their sleeves. It's only been half an hour since Frederick has been here. Surely they can't have found a mystery to solve yet!
Ah, Mrs. Hilton, they haven't. But mysteries always appear for Fatty and gang— and they will: soon enough!