Moonstone Cowboy

Rated: M. (Some swearing and ball kicking)

Disclaimer: The Mighty Boosh and all related characters of course belong to Noel and Julian, Dave and Rich and Mike. We love them and we hope they don't mind us messing with them in some very peculiar ways. No money is being made from this effort.

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Moonstone Cowboy

Day 4 Part 5

Dixon Bainbridge's rooms above The Salty Bullet are a confusing maze of boudoirs and offices and adjoining doors designed to make any visitor feel uncomfortable and disorientated. They are also a very effective means of hiding secrets and other things away from prying lawmans' eyes. It's to one of these things the Mayor hurries now, brushing aside the attentions of a scantily clad woman on the way, a woman he vaguely remembers is called Candy or Sandy or Brandy. It didn't really matter, these women were a dime-a-dozen to him.

He walks through his office and into a less formal and richly embellished room, a place where meetings are conducted with a quality brandy and cigar. He continues over to the corner and folds aside a red velvet drape to reveal yet another door. Reaching into his pocket he removes a small bunch of keys and slips one of them into the keyhole.

The room he enters is of stark contrast to its neighbour. For a start there's no window, just a metal gridded hole in the roof that lets in light but little air. As a result the room is stuffy and rather unpleasant on the nose.

In the centre of the room is a wooden table about the length of a man and not much wider. Four leather straps are nailed to each corner and reddish-brown stains scar the surface like something from the history books on Tudor torture techniques. Bainbridge did think that King Henry the Eighth was one of the greatest men to have ever lived, a man who took no shit and demanded the respect and loyalty of everyone around him. Nobody messed with Henry, nobody dared.

There are more straps on the far wall, but they're currently unoccupied too. The bench on the right hand side however houses a very sorry looking Bobby Fossil. The bank manager leaps to his feet as soon as Dixon enters.

"Mr Bainbridge sir, please sir, I didn't tell them anything, well only that I had the knife but they knew that already, but they don't have it, I haven't given it to them yet, I can deny saying it, I'll give it to you, please Mr Bainbridge, please, I'll take it to you..."

Bainbridge knees Bobby once in the privates and he drops like a bag of stones, writhing about on the floor. The Mayor leans over him and grabs his collar, hoisting him back to standing and pulling his face an inch away from his own.

"Now you listen to me you snivelling sack of shit, I couldn't give a toss about the knife. All that proves is that you're a fucking imbecile. You will tell me where you've hidden it, but right now I want you to tell me something else. I want you to tell me what happened at the jailhouse before I found you."

"I told you I didn't say anything."

"Not what you said fool, what happened. Why weren't you in a cell?"

"The Deputy let me out."

"Of your cell."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Bobby hesitates before answering.

"He wanted me to take him somewhere."

"Where?"

"To see your magic man."

"My magic man? What the fuck? How the hell does he know about my magic man?"

Bainbridge twists Fossil's shirt collar tighter.

"He made me tell him. He said he'd let me go if I told him. I'm sorry Mr Bainbridge, I didn't know what to do. He kept asking who killed Mr Parrot and I panicked 'cause I didn't want to tell him that. I knew you'd be cross at that so I told him something else instead."

"You fucking idiot."

Bainbridge raises his fist as if to pound it into Fossil's face, but he stops himself. As much as he wants to smash the stupid fucker's face in he doesn't want him unconscious. He lowers his fist and shakes Fossil hard instead.

"What happened to the Deputy?"

"I dunno."

"Think man."

"Really I dunno. One minute he was undoing the cell door, the next there's a swooshing sound and a strange smell and a bright light. And then I woke up outside."

"A smell, what kind of smell?"

"Umm like flowers, or like how the ground smells when it rains."

"Anything else?"

"A sound. A tune I think. Pipes, a tune on pipes. A little melody. It went like this 'ooh-la-la-la-le-la-le-la-le'. It was kind of haunting actually."

Bainbridge smiles.

"Definitely pipes you say?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't see the Deputy again after that?"

"No Mr Bainbridge sir."

"What about Sheriff Moon? Does he know about the magic man too?"

Fossil shakes his head.

"No. The Deputy was very clear on that. He didn't want me to tell him."

"Didn't he now?"

The smiles on Bainbridge's face spreads into an evil looking grin.

"Well that's interesting isn't it. I wonder why that is?"

"I'm not sure if he believed me really."

"Well believing you is hard at the best of times Fossil."

Dixon lets go of his hold on Fossil's collar and starts pacing the room. Fossil waits, nervously wringing the front of his shirt.

"Do you remember Fossil the first time we saw the magic man out in the desert?"

"Yes, we thought he'd got lost from a circus the way he was dressed. He was picking the flowers off a cactus and I tried to help him but got a thorn lodged in my ear flappy bit."

"Yes, yes, and he helped you pull it out but you were in a right state, all panicking and rolling about."

"It hurt. I thought my ear had come off."

"Do you remember what he did Fossil?"

"He played me a song and I felt all happy and calm and sleepy."

"A song on his..."

"On his little wooden pipes and he... oh..."

The men look directly at each other as the coin finally drops in Bobby's brain.

"That's right, a little set of wooden pipes that lulled you into a sleep so that I could get you on the damn horse and back here."

"So the magic man was at the jailhouse. But why?"

"I've no idea, but I've got a feeling that if I find the magic man then I'll find our missing Deputy too."

"And then what Mister Mayor sir?"

"Then Fossil I get rid of the meddlesome Sheriff and his fancyboy sidekick once and for all."

.


.

Vince is already slumping against his chains.

"Whazsinthaa?"

Naboo lowers the pipe from Vince's mouth.

"Just a herb to make you relax a bit."

"Izvereegood."

"Yeah. You ready?"

Vince gives Naboo a big sloppy sort of grin.

"Yessssir?"

"Well you better be 'cause this is going to hurt. Now open your mouth."

Vince opens his mouth as wide as he can, giggling the whole time.

"For pity's sake stop laughing else your choke."

Vince snaps his mouth shut again and looks at Naboo with all the innocence his can muster.

"Soz. Izrightnow."

"Concentrate Vince and remember what I told you. You got to try not to fight it yeah. Your body will want to but you got to let it in, you got to let it do its thing."

"I'lltry."

"Open your mouth then."

"Naboo."

"Yeah?"

"Fanks."

Naboo smiles at Vince and puts a large dollop of a greenish-grey goo onto the end of the spoon before raising it to the Deputy's lips.

"You won't be thanking me in a minute Vince."

.


.

Sheriff Moon doesn't really have a plan so he decides to watch the comings and goings at The Salty Bullet for a bit. He knows Bainbridge has Fossil holed up inside somewhere, but aside from that fact he has little else to go on. His detective skills are definitely lacking with this one.

He'd already been back to the jailhouse and scoured every inch of floor and wall and ceiling for any clue as to what had happened, but the only thing he'd found was a slight powdery substance near the cells. It looked a little like gunpowder, but it was finer and had no taste. There was also a faint lingering smell, something almost floral, but Howard assumed that had been something the Doctor had used on Vince's injuries.

Other than that he'd drawn a blank.

Howard is sitting now outside the barber shop just staring at the front of the saloon. If anything he feels sort of numb. Vince is missing and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it. Well he can try raiding every home to see if someone has him, but he just can't see that being a plausible solution to the mystery. And he doesn't believe for one minute that Vince has run out on him, not with the argument the young man had put up for staying. Besides the train isn't due until the next morning and all horses are accounted for. Bainbridge doesn't have him, he is sure of that, and nobody in town remembers seeing Vince after the hanging incident. Even then most hadn't really seen him properly, what with it being dark and him spending most of the time on the ground unconscious. In asking around though Howard had quickly realised that Vince had become the most spoken name on people's lips. He was a person they felt they knew but had never met. Eleanor and Lucien had told him that they were being bombarded with questions all the time like "Who is he?", "Where does he come from?" and "Is he the murdering type?" And once Eleanor gives a resounding "No, definitely not!" as an answer to that one then the next question the women tended to ask is "So, is he married?"

All in all though none of this was helping Howard establish the whereabouts of Vince.

John Claude steps out of the barbers and hands Howard a glass.

"Here Sheriff, to take the edge off."

"Thanks JC."

"No problem. You know I don't mind you sitting here but it'll be dark soon. Are you going to stay here all night?"

"I don't know where else to go."

"Where's Monty?"

"With Mr and Mrs Hopkins. They're spoiling him a little I think."

"Good, he's had quite a shock."

"Yeah."

"And you've still no idea where Deputy Noir might be?"

"None at all."

"But you think the Mayor does?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure. Maybe not."

"I wish I could help more."

Howard raises his glass.

"This is help, thanks JC."

"Well there's more of that so if you fancy coming in at any point."

"I will."

As John Claude re-enters the barbers the tall flame-haired figure of Mr White exits the saloon. He turns to go right but then stops, shakes his head as if reprimanding himself and instead turns left.

Howard doesn't call out to him. Instead he backs up into the shadows and watches. Mr White walks past with his head down and doesn't see him. He walks right to the end of the street and then turns as if approaching the jailhouse.

Suddenly Howard has an idea.

.


.

It takes exactly two minutes and thirty-eight seconds for Naboo's special goop to start working it's way through Vince's system and exactly two minutes and thirty-nine seconds before Vince starts screaming.

Naboo had only seen the effects of Babolisk Oil once before on his home planet of Xooberon. That had been when the King's daughter had fallen from her balcony and the King had instructed the Shamen to use any means possible to heal her. It had been Kirk who'd suggested the oil and Dennis who'd mixed it into the Princesses soup. It hadn't been a pretty sight back then either, and the King and Dennis had nearly gotten into a sword-fight over it. But it had worked and that's what had mattered in the end.

Still seeing it at work again now Naboo thought maybe he should have just let Vince's body be. It would have healed itself eventually, there was after all no major damage. But Naboo had chosen the oil because he simply didn't have the time. Vince was never meant to have gotten himself so damaged in the first place, and being as injured as he was made him too vulnerable and too slow. Plus it made Howard an over-protective jumble of nerves. No the time of reckoning was close and if Naboo was going to fix things he at least needed both his main players in top-notch working order.

Vince screams again and strains against the chains. His eyes are screwed up tight in agony and he's foaming slightly at the mouth, and around the cloth Naboo had placed there to stop him from biting his tongue. Sweat is pouring off of him and there's a funny sort of tinge to his skin. As awful as the sight of Vince is though Naboo smiles. The oil is working.

.


.

Howard spots Ralfe White hiding himself alongside the jailhouse and quickly follows him into the shadows. He loses sight of him for a second before he's suddenly thrown up against the side of the building with a hand around his neck.

"No Mr White, it's me, Sheriff Moon."

Ralfe quickly lets go.

"Shit, sorry Sheriff. I didn't realise."

Howard smooths himself down.

"It's OK Mr White. No harm done. But then I'm not as easy a target as others am I?"

Ralfe drops his head at the obvious reference to Vince.

"That's why I'm here now Sheriff."

"To help protect him, I know. Well you're a little late this time Mr White. Vince isn't here."

"Where is he?"

"He's missing."

"What?"

"You didn't know?"

"No, I, well I've been keeping a low profile."

"I was hoping you could tell me where he might be."

"Sorry."

"So you had nothing to do with the fire at the theatre either then."

"No. God no! I swear I know nothing about that or where Deputy Noir is."

Howard puts his hand up.

"It's OK, I believe you.

"You really don't know where the Deputy is then?"

"Not a clue. But there is someone who might be able to help me find him."

"Who?"

"Mr White, if Mayor Bainbridge was keeping a person under lock and key just where might he stow them?"

"Easy, in his room."

"His room, above the Bullet?"

"Yeah, he has this special little room. He calls it the roasting room. Uses it to force information out of folks if you know what I mean."

"Right, and how would I get to this roasting room?"

"It's not that well hidden really, but you need a key to get in."

"And the keys are?"

"On a steel loop the Mayor keeps on him at all times."

"In his pocket?"

"Yeah."

Howard puts his hand on Ralfe's shoulder.

"And tell me Mr White, realistically speaking, how hard would it actually be to get hold of these keys when say the Mayor was sleeping?"

Ralfe White nods in understanding.

"Is this really going to help you find the Deputy?"

"I think so, yes."

"Well then getting those keys will be no problem at all."

.


.

Vince has finally stopped screaming and thrashing about. In fact he's hanging limp now and muttering away to himself, his eyes rolling back and forth behind his closed lids.

Naboo decides it's probably safe to unchain him.

He places a load of blankets and cushions below Vince and unbuckles his ankles. Then using the little stool he reaches up and uncuffs Vince's wrists. The Deputy drops like a rag-doll and although Naboo manages to partially catch him the blankets play their part. The little Shaman rearranges Vince into a comfortable position on the floor, grabbing more pillows and furs to further cushion his body from the hard ground. By the time he's done he's breathing hard and sweating profusely. It really is time he got himself a familiar he thinks. Something strong that can help him with the heavy lifting. Physical work just isn't his forte.

He turns Vince onto his side and lays his hand on the young man's forehead. The Deputy feels icy cold now, and he's shivering hard, his teeth rattling against each other. Naboo folds more blanket's around him and backs away knowing that Vince is in the final stages. He pulls up the little stool and produces from his pocket his pipe. He packs it with some strong smelling leaves, lights it and settles himself for the night, watching over Vince like some sort of gnome-like guardian angel.