“No.”
“It’s a fascinating place. I was over there for quite a few months, travelling and acquiring objects from excavations. Do you know much about the Egyptian gods?”
“Mr Tumbletee, we need to go down to the station to have this conversation. Other constables will be arriving shortly.”
“There is a god called Apophis. He’s comes from the underworld. He’s a snake god, but more importantly he’s a force of chaos. I like chaos. The body or coils of this snake god represent a void or black hole that swallows people up. Do you know what I am saying to you, Detective Sergeant White?”
“I think I know what you are.”
“Very good. We understand one another. There is absolutely no question of redemption or remorse for me.
I am chaOs. I am a blaCk hOle.
I will not stop unless someone is capable of stopping me.”
Constable Walnut arrived. “Everything alright, sergeant?”
“Yes, Walnut, everything is in hand. Mr Tumbletee was just about to accompany us to the police station.”
“Let’s be having you then, you funny bugger,” Constable Walnut approached.
“Ahh, Constable Walnut. The comedy sidekick.”
“I’m not the one who dresses up as a member of the clergy with a rubber nose,” Walnut replied, waggling a finger in protestation.
“Are you capable of stopping me?” Mr Tumbletee looked directly at me and then opened his hands. “Did I tell you I was a magician?”
And he disappeared.
“What the hell?’ cried Walnut.
“Seal off the exits to the museum. He must be here somewhere,” I cried.
But he wasn’t.
A few days later a letter arrived for me, postmarked Paris:
* * *
Dear Detective Sergeant White, Paris is beautiful this time of year. I am sorry we couldn’t have got to know each other better.
I have a little project I want to begin. It involves BUTCHERING women. So you’ll know when I have returned. Don’t try and arrest me next time, Percival. Just kill me.
With love,
Tumbletee
X: August 1888
Mr Tumbletee & Mr Fingers Have Dinner
It was raining in Paris, and late evening. The moon and stars were dazzling. I don’t usually notice them at all, but it was hard not to that night. They were so bright. Spermy wriggling shooting stars fell, white across a black canvas. I was meeting my father for dinner. It had been a while since we’d met, but we’d a lot to talk about, and I could already smell him. He was underneath the earth, deep, deep down where the secret stains oozed. Mushroom spores, broken glass, hands of women, bones of a saint. He’s a forbidden land and I am his map. See the ink stains in my eyes?
I’d chosen a dark little restaurant and a candlelit table in a secretive corner. A bottle of champagne, and I’d ordered bloodied beef and custard apple tarts for pudding. Not that he liked that kind of food. Neither did I, really. His wafty scent mingled with the Parisian moonlight – it was dried blood, it was dark earth and cogs turning on his ancient clocks. Daddy DADDY DADDY daddy DADDY DADDY MY DADDY MY DADDY MY DADDY MY DADDY DADDY DADDY.
Daddy of the Underworld.
Ladybird waistcoat, dark spectacles, crooked smile. He sat and poured himself a glass of champagne.
“Ebeneezer, my boy. It’s lovely to see you again.”
“Father. I was hoping we could talk.”
“I’ve been keeping track of your career. Very interesting. Very. Interesting,” He sipped his champagne. I could tell he was angry and it pleased me.
“I want you to be impressed, Father.”
“You gave a soul to Albert Chimes, the clockmaker. Why?”
“I have no use for souls.”
“Do you know what that soul was?”
“I knew it was unusual. Some sort of witch princess.”
“Did you realise the power it had?”
“No.” Lying, tee hee!
“Then let me tell you, boy,” and he forced a forkful of bloodied beef into his mouth and chewed. “That soul is able to open doorways to other worlds and to control time. The Egyptian princess had enormous power. You gave that soul to a grubby little clockmaker in the East End of London, who will stick it in a clock. I must now retrieve it for myself.”
“As you wish, Father.”
“You enjoy your costumes a little too much; I did not pick an actor for a son.”
“What a shame. I thought I was entertaining you.”
“You have no sense of control.”
“I want to destroy things. Break them apart,” and I stared into him.
“I did not raise my son to be chaotic.”
“No, you raised me to be like you. Part of the void, Daddy.”
He poured more champagne for us both. “I saved you from death, Ebeneezer. I gave you a new home, a new life. In future I want you to be more controlled. I do not want to be embarrassed. These silly games you play. You are no longer a child. Kill what you want, who you want, but remember who you are. You are sending a message. I will not have you dressing up in women’s clothes again.”