The Fourth Bear

hot because it’s just been poured, mother bear’s is too cold because it was the original pouring, but baby bear’s was just right—and that’s the one she ate.”

“But then… who was there that morning?” asked Ashley.

“Who can’t resist porridge?”

“Bears.”

“But there’s a problem,” observed Mary. “Bears are essentially peaceful, and Goldy’s Friend to Bears status would have protected her. And besides, why didn’t they tell you about him? His scent would have been all over the house.”

“Because… he was sleeping with Ed’s wife.”

“You can’t tell that from the porridge, surely?”

“No. Do you remember the three bears all had their own beds? I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but Punch mentioned it last night, and all of a sudden it made sense. Mr. and Mrs. Bruin were sleeping separately because there were serious marital problems within the bear family. The interloper in the cottage that morning was another bear, a fourth bear. He was the one that ate and repoured the porridge. He was the one sleeping with Ursula Bruin. He was the one waiting for Goldilocks. He was the one that killed her—and he was the one Ed wanted to tell me about.”

“Then it was the fourth bear and not Bartholomew who ordered the Gingerbreadman to kill the Bruins?”

“I believe it was. And if he was diddling Ursula under Ed’s nose without being killed, he’s dominant. Very dominant.”

“Ed Bruin was ranked sixty-eight in the Reading Ursa Major Bear Hierarchy,” said Mary. “They’re very big on male dominance. Which leaves us with sixty-seven more suspects than we need right now.”

They all sat in silence for a moment, digesting the latest revelations.

“So… continue your scenario?” said Mary.

“Okay. Goldilocks arrives at the cottage about eight-ten, and she’s hungry, so she eats the porridge, accidentally breaks a chair and then undresses to wait for Bartholomew in bed. She falls asleep because she has been up all night working on her story, and she might have been dispatched there and then, except the three bears return half an hour early because of Ed’s appointment with the vet. They don’t realize who she is. She gives a truthful account of herself and runs off into the forest.”

“And is never seen again—at least, not alive,” murmured Mary.

“Precisely. Her flight from the cottage is watched by her assailant, who has seen the three bears return and elects to stay hidden—they don’t know he’s arranged this little meeting. He follows her, kills her and dumps the body in SommeWorld, where it is hoped she will either not be found or it will be assumed she died accidentally.”

“Then what?” asked Mary.

“It all goes fine until we start to ask questions and connect Goldy with Obscurity and the cucumber-related deaths. But Ed Bruin is deeply disturbed that a Friend to Bears has died and is suspicious about the fourth bear being in the cottage that morning. He decides to call me, but the fourth bear acts quickly: He orders the Gingerbreadman to kill them and plant the note on Ed’s desk about meeting Bartholomew. If all had gone according to plan, we would arrest and charge Bartholomew and he’d be silenced shortly afterward, and the killings would have looked like an unrelated ursist attack.”

“Had we not got to the forest as quick as we did.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you saying the Gingerbreadman, the fourth bear and NS-4 are all connected?”

“I’m not sure, but muse on this: Ginger’s been on low-security transportation for over six years yet chooses to break out exactly at this time and place. He’s being controlled by someone, I’m almost positive.”

“How do you control the Gingerbreadman?”

“I don’t know. He was in St. Cerebellum’s when Goldilocks died, so that rules him out from the actual murder.”

They all went silent for a moment.

“This is the plan,” announced Jack. “We find out the story Goldilocks was working on. If it was big enough to have her killed, then it’s as big as she boasted. Four unexplained fireballs with world-class cucumber growers at the center of three of them.”

“You think Cripps and the other cucumberistas were murdered and their champions stolen?”

“I do. Cripps must have entered his greenhouse that night and come across an empty sight—holes where his plants had been.”

'‘Good heavens! It’s full of holes.’' murmured Mary. “His final words. Bisky-Batt said the nutritional value of a giant cucumber is almost zero, but perhaps Cripps and the others were working on giant cucumbers to then cross- pollinate with other foodstuffs that would be useful. Since GM research is banned in the UK, maybe QuangTech was having a bunch of well-meaning amateurs do their work for them—and occasionally ‘lending a hand’ with visits from the Men in Green.”

“You’re right,” replied Jack. “Fuchsia mentioned something about the MIGs taking core samples and clippings and so forth—and if McGuffin didn’t die and is supervising the research…”

They thought about all this for a while, as it was quite far-fetched, but then NCD investigations generally were, as a rule.

“It’s a solid theory,” said Jack finally, “but we need to know more—and we’ve got a good place to start.”

“Where?”

“The Gingerbreadman. Find him and with a bit of luck he’ll lead us to the fourth bear.”

“We’re going to do a plot device number twenty-six after all,” observed Mary with a smile. “One small thing: How do we find Mr. G. when Copperfield and six hundred officers are running around Reading without a clue?”

Jack said nothing but took a paper evidence package from his jacket and showed it to her.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the gingerbread thumb you shot off.”

“You removed evidence from the evidence store? How the hell did you manage that?”

“I have a good friend who steals things for me. This is what we’ll do: Mary, you’ll be with me and we’ll take this broken cookie to Parks. Ashley, I want you to go into the office and pretend everything is as normal. If Briggs or anyone else asks what’s going on, you’re to tell them that Mary is looking into a minor domestic bear incident down at the Bob Southey.”

“You mean lie to a ranking officer?”

“Yes,” said Jack, “and do it well. But remember: no elephants, no pirates.”

Ashley was halfway out the door before Jack called him back.

“What?”

“You’d better get dressed if you’re going to work.”

“Of course,” said Ashley, and he dashed off into the hull of the flying boat.

32. Parks Again

Strangest degree course: Gone are the days when only traditional academic disciplines were offered for further study. A quick trawl of UK prospecti reveals that Faringdon University offers a three-year B.A. in Carrot Husbandry, a course that is only mildly stranger than Nuffield’s Correct Use of Furniture or Durham’s Advanced Blinking. Our favorite is the B.A. offered by the University of Slough in Whatever You Want, in which you spend three years doing… whatever you want. Slough has reported, perhaps unsurprisingly, that the pass mark is 100 percent.

The Bumper Book of Berkshire Records, 2004 edition