Read 3 Inspector Hobbes and the Gold Diggers for Free Online Page B

Hobbes gave the old-fashioned bell-pull a sharp downward tug and from within came the deep tones of bell. So far, so Gothic, I thought, closing my hand around my garlic bulb.
    A moment later, there came a sound of shuffling feet and the door opened with a satisfyingly spooky creak. Inside, all was dark, except for the flickering light of a single candle held in a pale hand.
    ‘Enter,’ said a soft voice.
    Nervously, I followed Hobbes inside, going down a corridor in which the candlelight cast grotesque flickering shadows onto dark, heavy-looking furniture. The front door closed behind us.
    ‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ said the soft voice. ‘I’m dreadfully sorry it’s so dark, but the bulb’s just blown. Please, go into the kitchen.’
    Hobbes, opening a door, led us into a large, comfortable, well-lit, modern kitchen, where he introduced me to Sid, who was not as I’d imagined. He was shorter than I and rather paunchy, with a balding head and plump, florid cheeks. Yet what surprised me most was his welcoming, white-toothed smile and friendly dark brown eyes.
    ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, young fellow,’ he said, taking my hand in his soft pudgy one and shaking it vigorously.
    ‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said, wondering again whether Hobbes was playing a trick on me.
    Sid nodded and then looked distressed. ‘I’m afraid I’m having a bad day. First the bulb goes and then I discover I’ve completely run out of garlic.’
    Reaching into my pocket, I held out my hand.
    ‘Thank you,’ said Sid. ‘I don’t suppose you brought any dill?’

4
    The kitchen was mostly white, with every surface gleaming, and, above a sharp hint of bleach and a faint scent of apples, there was a beautiful, rich, delicious smell rising from a large copper pot bubbling on a vast wood-fired range. Sid, smiling at us over a bow tie that was nearly as large as Hobbes’s, gestured towards the table and Hobbes and I sat down on cushioned pinewood chairs.
    ‘It was lucky you had garlic with you,’ said Sid, ‘because the soup is not the same without it.’
    ‘Umm … yes, it was. I don’t usually carry it.’
    ‘Was it anything to do with me being what I am?’
    ‘Umm … well, yes, I suppose it was,’ I said, more embarrassed than afraid.
    ‘I expect,’ said Sid, with a glance at Hobbes, ‘that Wilber told you part of the story, just enough to get you worried.’
    ‘Would I do anything like that?’ said Hobbes, trying to look innocent.
    ‘Yes,’ I said, nodding, ‘you would. Umm … Wilber?’
    ‘It’s short for Wilberforce,’ said Sid.
    ‘Wilberforce?’ I said, staring. ‘Is that his name?’ I’d never dared ask, though I had noticed the signature on his paintings was W.M. Hobbes.
    Sid nodded.
    ‘In that case,’ I asked, ‘what does the M stand for?’
    ‘His second name,’ said Sid. ‘is—’
    ‘A secret,’ said Hobbes, shaking his head and looking embarrassed.
    ‘—is Makepeace.’ Sid, breaking the garlic into cloves, sniffed them and nodded his approval.
    Hobbes, putting his head in his hands, groaned. ‘My awful secret is out. It was bound to happen one day.’
    ‘Wilberforce Makepeace Hobbes?’ I chuckled.
    ‘Apparently both Wilberforce and Makepeace were popular names when I was a lad,’ said Hobbes. ‘I’m quite proud of them … really.’
    ‘Anyway,’ said Sid, ‘before I was interrupted, I was trying to say that I love a bit of garlic and, furthermore, I have no adverse reaction to crosses, or holy water, or any of that nonsense.’
    ‘I guess everything I think I know about vampires is wrong,’ I said, feeling more at ease. ‘Umm … what about stakes, though? Would a stake through the heart kill you?’
    ‘Andy,’ said Hobbes, ‘that’s not nice.’
    Sid held up his hand. ‘No, it’s a fair question, if a little daft. So far as I’m aware, a stake through the heart would kill anyone and, before you ask, so would decapitation.’ With a chuckle, he turned