The Fourth Bear полностью

He laid a claw over his heart. “We never touched her. We were going to write a letter to The Toad. Their Henrietta Hatchett is a Friend to Bears and has done a great deal for ursine equality.”

“Sorry?” said Jack, taken aback at this latest development.

“Miss Hatchett would have done something about it,” he replied. “She has done a lot of good work for us in the past.”

“Had you ever met her? I mean, if you saw her would you recognize her?”

“No—why?”

“This,” said Jack, holding up the picture of Goldilocks, “is Miss Hatchett.”

Ed’s eyes opened wide, and he looked at his wife, who dropped a teacup.

“That was Hatchett?” she said, turning from the sink.

Jack nodded, and Ursula walked briskly over to them.

“YOU… FOOL!” she screamed at her husband, who looked terrified and tried to back away, which is tricky to do if you’re already sitting down. He gave out a whimper, and she replied with a snarl. There followed a protracted and very one-sided conversation in Ursine, which resembled a series of growls, whimpers and low barks. As they argued, Jack looked out the window, where he could see some cars pulled up outside. Mary had arrived in his Allegro, and behind her, Gretel and Baker bumped up the grassy track in his Volvo.

“I’d like a statement from both of you,” said Jack, having to almost shout to make himself heard above the cacophony of growly noises.

They stopped arguing, and Ursula answered in a sweet tone, “Of course, Inspector.”

Ed nodded in agreement, and they both looked at the two cars unhappily. Machines, like humans, weren’t that welcome in the forest.

Jack walked out of the house and met Mary on the garden path.

“Hello, sir,” she said. “Any luck?”

“Goldilocks was here on Saturday morning—but ran away into the forest at about eight-thirty.” He turned back to Mr. Bruin, introduced Mary and then said, “Can you show me the bed you found her in?”

Ed shrugged a bit despondently and took Jack and Mary up the narrow stairs to the single bedroom, which was in the roof space. He nodded toward three beds of varying sizes.

“This one,” he said, pointing at the smallest.

“Did you wash the sheets?”

“Of course,” he said, shocked at the suggestion that they might not have.

Jack looked around. There didn’t seem much more to be gained for the moment. They walked back downstairs.

“Baker, I’d like you to take statements from Mr. and Mrs. Bruin and wait for their son to come home, then do the same with him.”

Baker wrinkled his nose.

“Problems?” asked Jack.

“They’re bears, sir.”

“I can see that.”

“Animals, sir.”

“So are we.”

“They’ve probably got fleas.”

Jack pulled him aside and whispered in his ear, “Listen, Baker, I’ve been in there for half an hour and I’m not scratching. Tell the others and heed this yourself: If I hear of any ursism in my division, I’ll have you up on disciplinary charges. Do you understand?”

Baker nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Which way did Goldilocks go?” asked Jack. Ed pointed a claw toward a small path leading up the hill to a ridge.

“Gretel?”

“Sir?”

“You and Baker should follow us up when you’re done. Mary and I are going on ahead.”

They walked out of the clearing and back into the forest, this time following the path Ed had indicated. The trees were younger and smaller, letting in enough light to permit a thick carpet of grass to grow.

“How did you find me?” Jack asked Mary.

“A woodsman told me he saw you over here. The bear’s house is only five hundred yards from Goldy’s Austin.”

Jack shook his head. He must have been walking in circles.

They followed the path up to the top of the ridge, where they found a high and very sturdy wire-mesh fence. Beyond this was a muddy landscape, a thousand acres of churned earth and stunted, shattered trees. A quarter of a mile away in the muddy wastes, the remains of a small church nestled in a slight hollow near some leafless trees. On the hillside below the church, the zigzag pattern of a trench was readily apparent, the web of rusty barbed wire an impenetrable barrier in front of it. Behind this first trench was a support trench, and beyond this a battery of guns sat in supposed readiness. Behind them was the visitors’ center, unfinished and of modern brick and steel. The wasteland was totally incongruous to the green setting of Berkshire and an ugly scar on the land. Its construction had been fought at every step, but the theme park had gone ahead regardless. Jack and Mary looked up and read the threatening notice board that faced them. The message was clear:

“SommeWorld,” muttered Jack. “That’s all we need.” They walked slowly along the perimeter until Mary noticed a gap in the fence. She went and had a closer look as Jack went on ahead.

“Jack, I think you better look at this.”

“It’s probably kids,” he said, retracing his steps, “wanting to have a look at the park before it opens.”

“Look,” said Mary, pointing at a small scrap of cloth stuck on the chain-link fence. “It’s a scrap of blue-patterned dress.”