The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse

4

Tinto's Bar looked no better to Jack on second viewing.

The interior was still the black and white equivalent of monochrome and the chairs and tables were still arranged in pleasing compositions. But the scale of everything was still all wrong and Jack had to duck his head once more, and keep it ducked. And all those toys were still there. And all those toys still worried Jack.

The lad steadied himself against the nearest wall. There was no longer any doubt in his mind regarding the reality of this. It was real. That it couldn't be real did not enter into it. He was here and all these toys were...

'Drunk!' Jack looked down at Eddie. 'All these toys are drunk.'

Eddie looked up at Jack. And Eddie shrugged. 'It's late,' he said. 'They've been in here all evening. Don't folk get drunk where you come from?'

'People do,' said Jack. 'But not...'

'Don't start all that again. Buy me a drink.'

'I don't have any money. I was robbed.'

'You've some coins in your trouser pocket. I felt them when you were unconscious.'

'What?'

'I was trying to bring you round.'

'You were going through my pockets?'

'Not me,' said Eddie. 'No can do. No opposing thumbs.'

Jack patted at his trousers.

'Other side,' said Eddie.

'Oh yeah,' said Jack, digging deeply into a pocket and winkling out a number of coins. 'That's a bit of luck.'

'Stick with me, kidder,' said Eddie. 'I'll bring you lots of luck.'

Jack gazed down at the shabby-looking bear and nodded his ducked head in a manner that lacked conviction.

'To the bar,' said Eddie, leading the way. 'Let's both get as drunk as.'

Jack followed on, keeping his head down and making furtive sideways glances as he did so. There were toys to all sides of him, and just a little below. They were chatting away in a rowdy fashion, banging their glasses on the tables and generally carrying on as folk carry on anywhere when they are well in their cups.

There were dolls and there were gollys, teddies and toy soldiers, and fluffy-faced animals of indeterminate species. And they all had that look of 'favourite toys' which have been loved to the point of near-destruction.

Jack watched Eddie climb onto a bar stool. How could he move about like that? He was all filled up with sawdust; he'd said so himself. He had no bones, no muscles, no sinews. How could it be possible?

Jack shrugged and sighed and sat himself down on a bar stool next to Eddie. It was a very low bar stool, beside a very low bar counter, and Jack found himself with his knees up high.

'Can't we go somewhere else?' he whispered to Eddie. 'This stool's too low for me. I look a complete gormster.'

'No you don't.' The bear grinned, a big face-splitter. 'You look as handsome as. Get the beers in.'

Jack sighed again. 'Where's the barman?' he asked.

'Howdy doody, what'll it be, sir?' The barman sprang up from beneath the bar counter, causing Jack to fall back in alarm.

'Control yourself,' said Eddie as Jack stared, all agog. 'It's only Tinto, the barman.'

Tinto was clearly mechanical, powered by a clockwork motor. He was formed from tin and glossily painted, though much of the gloss was now gone. His head was an oversized sphere, with a smiling face painted on the front. His body was a thing-a-me-oid[1] painted with a dicky-bow and tuxedo. The arms were flat, though painted with sleeves and shirt cuffs. The fingers of the hands were fully articulated.

Jack glanced at Eddie, who was staring covetously at those fingers.

'Howdy doody, what'll it be, sir?' said Tinto once again. The painted lips didn't move. The voice came from a tiny grille in the painted chest.

'I..." went Jack, 'I..."

'Beer,' said Eddie.

'Coming right up,' said Tinto. 'And anything for the complete gormster?'

'He'll have a beer too,' said Eddie. 'And he's my friend and he's paying.'

'No offence meant,' said Tinto.

'None taken,' said Eddie.

'There was too,' said Jack.

'No there wasn't,' said Eddie. 'Just relax and drink beer.'

'I.D.,' said Tinto.

'What?' said Eddie.

'I.D. for the gormster. He looks underage to me. Under-aged and oversized.'

'Underage?' Jack's jaw dropped. 'Oversized?' His face made a frown.

'I run a respectable bar,' said Tinto. 'Top notch clientele, as you can readily observe. I can't have blue-faced, stocking-footed ragamuffins coming in here and losing me my licence. You'll have to show me your I.D. or... I... will... have...' Tinto's voice became slower and slower and finally stopped altogether.

'What's happened to it?’ Jack asked.

'Him!' said Eddie.

'Him,' said Jack.

'Run down,' said Eddie. 'He needs rewinding. 'I generally take advantage if this happens when I'm alone with him in the bar. Nip around and help myself to a free beer.'

'Do it now then,' said Jack.

'There're too many folk here now. But he loses his short-term memory when he's rewound, so just back me up.'

Jack shrugged. 'Fair enough.'

'Nellie,' called Eddie, 'Nellie, a winding needed here.'

A dainty doll with a huge wasps' nest of yellow hair hastened along behind the bar counter, turned Tinto around and began to vigorously crank the key in his back.

'See his name there, on his back?' said Eddie, leaning over the bar counter and pointing it out to Jack.

Jack perused the barman's back. 'It doesn't say Tinto,' he said, 'it says Tintoy. The "Y" has worn off.'

'You're right,' said Eddie. 'But don't mention it to Tinto. He thinks it makes him special.'

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but didn't.

'Thank you, my dear,' said Tinto, his head turning a semicircle. 'Almost ran right down there. Now, what was I doing?' His body revolved to catch up with his head.

'You were pulling two beers for us,' said Eddie.

'Was I?' asked Tinto.

'You were,' agreed Jack. 'You'd just scrutinised my I.D. and commented on the fact that I looked young for my age.'

'Did I?' said Tinto.

'You did,' said Eddie. 'And we'd just paid for the beers.'

'You had?' said Tinto.

'We had,' said Jack. 'Edclie did. With a gold piece. But we haven't had the beers yet and Eddie hasn't had his change.'

'So sorry,' said Tinto. 'I'll get right to it.' And he moved off along the bar to pull a brace of beers.

'A gold piece?' whispered Eddie. 'That's pushing it a bit.'

Jack shrugged. 'I was only backing you up. You can always tell him it was a mistake if you want and say you gave him the right money.'

'Oh no,' whispered Eddie. 'A gold piece is fine. I must remember that in future.'

Tinto returned and presented Eddie and Jack with their beers and Eddie with a great deal of change. 'Cheers,' said Eddie, taking his glass carefully between his paws and pouring beer messily into his face.

'Cheers,' said Jack, doing likewise, though without the mess. The glass was tiny. Jack drained it with a single gulp and ordered another.

'So, Eddie,' said Tinto, doing the business for Jack, who paid with the change from his trouser pocket. 'Any word from Bill?'

'No,' said Eddie, manoeuvring his glass back onto the bar counter. 'He's been gone for a week now. But I'm sure he'll be back very soon.'

'Who's Bill?’ Jack asked as Tinto passed him a new beer.

'My partner,' said Eddie.

Tinto laughed, a sound like small stones being shaken about in an empty tin can.

'All right, my owner,' said Eddie. 'Bill Winkie, the famous detective. I'm Bill's bear; I told you in the alleyway, Jack.'

'Bill Winkie?' Jack took a gulp and placed his latest empty glass on the counter. 'Bill Winkie, Private Eye?'

'The same,' said Eddie.

'I've read the books,' said Jack.

'I never get a mention,' said Eddie.

'No, you don't, but that's not the point.'

'It is to me. Without me he'd never solve a single case. I'm the brains behind that man.'

'That's really not the point,' said Jack. 'The point is that Bill Winkie is a fictional detective. He's not a real person.'

'He seems pretty real to me.' Eddie took up his glass once more and poured beer into his face. 'From the brim of his snap-brimmed Fedora to the toes of his smelly old socks.'

'You're telling me that Bill Winkie is real?'

'As real as.'

'Hm,' went Jack. 'It follows.'

'Eddie's not kidding you around,' said Tinto. 'He really does solve most of Bill's cases. He's a natural, a born detective.'

'Cheers,' said Eddie. 'I appreciate that.'

'Credit where credit's due,' said Tinto. 'But you'll only get that credit here. And I don't even give credit. This is a cash-only establishment.'

'What he means,' said Eddie, 'is that toys have no status. This may be Toy City, but toys have to know their place. Step out of line and you turn up missing.'

'I don't really understand,' said Jack.

'The status quo,' said Eddie. 'I'm a teddy. I'm supposed to do teddy things. Eat porridge, picnic in the woods, be cuddly, stufflike that.' Eddie made a face and spat sawdust.

'Arid you're not keen?' said Jack.

'I'm a bear with brains. I have ambitions.'

'About the brains,' said Jack. 'I have been wondering about those.'

'Oh yeah?' Eddie patted at his head with a paw. 'You've been wondering how a head full of sawdust can actually think?'

'It had crossed my mind, yes.'

'And so how does your brain think?'

'It's a brain, that's what it does.'

'It's a piece of meat,' said Eddie. 'And how does a piece of meat think? You tell me!'

'Well...' said Jack.

'You don't know,' said Eddie. 'Nobody knows. Except perhaps for Mr Anders. He knows almost everything.'

'And who is Mr Anders?'

'The kindly, loveable white-haired old Toymaker. He birthed me and everyone else in this bar, with the exception of you.'

'So why don't you speak to him about this status quo business? Tell him you want your recognition?'

'Er, no,' said Eddie. 'The Toyniaker made me to be a teddy and do teddy things. The fact that I don't care to do them is my business. So I'll just keep my business to myself.'

'Or turn up missing?'

'I don't want to think about it.'

'So don't. Let's drink. Do you want me to turn you upside down yet?'

'No, not yet, but thanks anyway. You're all right, Jack. I like you.'

'I like you too, Eddie, cheers.' Jack raised his glass, but it was empty.

Eddie raised his, but it was empty too. Eddie fumbled with his paws and dropped his glass, shattering it upon the floor.

'Sorry,' said Eddie. 'It happens. A lot.'

'You haven't mentioned to the Toymaker that you would really like a pair of...' Jack stopped himself short. Of course Eddie hadn't. He could hardly ask the Toymaker to fit him with a pair of hands. That would not be maintaining the status quo.

'Sorry,' said Jack.

'Forget it,' said Eddie. 'Buy me a beer. It's your round.'

'You have a lot of change on the counter there.'

'Yes but that's my change and it's your round.'

'Fair enough,' said Jack. 'Although it isn't my round.’ Jack purchased a brace of beers with the last of his money and the two took to drinking once more.

'Tell me,' said Eddie, 'about where you come from. I've never met anyone who wasn't brought up in this city.'

'It isn't much,' said Jack. 'It's just a small township, supported by a factory. They make clockwork stuff there. I used to build...’ Jack drew Eddie closer.

'What?' asked Eddie.

'Clockwork barmen,' said Jack. 'Like Tinto. They said, "Howdy doody friend, what'll it be?" But that's all they said. They didn't talk like Tinto.'

'So you know all about clockwork?'

'You've seen my clockwork pistol. I designed and built it myself. It's not quite as accurate as it's supposed to be, though.'

'But you do know all about clockwork?'

'Pretty much all. But working in the factory nearly did for me. We were like slaves in there. I hated it. The sun used to beat down on us through the glass roof. And when the sun was at its highest, there was this bit of glass in the roof that was convex, like a lens, see, and at midday the sun would come through that and really burn me badly. I'll never forget it as long as I live. I had to get away. So I ran. I'd heard that there was wealth to be had in the city, so I came here to seek my fortune.'

'Pooh,' said Eddie. 'Sounds like you had a pretty rough time. You did the right thing running away.'

'I didn't have a lot of choice really. There was some unpleasantness; I don't want to go into that now.'

'That's okay with me. Your own business is your own business. So you've come here seeking work?'

'In a manner of speaking.'

'I could offer you work.'

'You?'

'Me,' said Eddie. 'I need a partner, I told you.'

'But you're Bill's bear.'

'And he's not here and while he's gone, I need a partner. I can do the thinking. But I can't do the hand working and 1 can't do the questioning and the driving around and...'

'The driving around?' said Jack.

'Bill left without his car and...'

'Car,' said Jack. 'What kind of car?'

'You know all about cars then, do you?'

'If they're clockwork cars. And what other kind of cars are there?'

'None that I know of.'

'I know all about them. I've helped build them.'

'But you've never actually driven one?'

'Well, one. But there was some unpleasantness, which I don't want to talk about either.'

'Well, Bill has one and it's standing in the garage. But I need a partner to do all the stuff that he could do and I can't.'

'Because of the status quo?'

'Exactly. If we solve the case, there'll be gold in it- for you.'

'Ifwe solve it?'

'When /solve it. Which I will.'

'So I get to drive you around and play the part of Bill Winkie, is that what you're suggesting?'

'In essence, yes.'

'Then I'm up for it,' said Jack. 'I'll do it.'

'Brilliant,' said Eddie. 'Then we're partners. Put it there,' and he stuck out his paw.

Jack took it between his hands and shook it.

'Partners,' he said.

'That's as brilliant as,' said Eddie, withdrawing his paw and employing it, with its fellow, to take up his glass once again.

'To partners and success,' he said.

Til join you in that,' said Jack. 'Cheers.'

'Cheers.' The two drank once again, drained their glasses and ordered further beers.

'So,' said Jack, 'tell me about the case that you are going to solve.'

'It's a pretty big number,' said Eddie. 'Prominent member of society brutally slain.'

'That's a job for the police, surely?'

'Surely,' said Eddie. 'And I'm sure they're doing their best to track down the murderer.'

'I detect a certain tone in your voice,' said Jack. 'One that suggests to me that you're not altogether convinced that the police will—

'Exactly,' said Eddie. 'You're most astute. Bill received a cash-up-front advance from an anonymous source to take on the case. It was a great deal of cash. Enough to retire on, really. Bill has a lot of debts. He gambles a great deal and runs up big bar bills. And cleaning bills; he's very fastidious. Likes a clean trenchcoat, does Bill.'

'Er, just one question,' said Jack. 'Before Bill... er... went away, did he pay offhis debts?'

'Not that I know of,' said Eddie. 'I'm sure he will when he comes back, though.'

'And he left, taking the big cash advance with him?'

Eddie nodded.

'Ah,' said Jack.

'Ah?' said Eddie.

'Nothing,' said Jack. 'You're pretty fond of Bill, aren't you?'

'I'm Bill's bear. I have been since he was a child.'

'So you trust him?'

'Of course, why do you ask me that?'

'Oh, no reason really.’ Jack applied himself to his beer. 'So you'd like the case solved for him before he gets back from his holiday, or whatever?'

'That's it,' said Eddie. 'There's the promise of much more money, when the case gets solved.'

'And you think that you can trust this anonymous benefactor to pay up when the case is solved?'

'Why wouldn't I?' asked Eddie.

'You're a very trusting little bear.'

'Don't patronise me,' said Eddie.

'Sorry,' said Jack. 'Did Bill leave you any money?'

Eddie shook his head. 'And the rent on the office is overdue. I'd like to get this case solved pretty quickly.'

'All right,' said Jack. 'I'll help you out. I'll be your hands and do all the stuff you want. Especially the car driving. I'm up for it.’ Jack patted Eddie on the head.

‘Jack,' said Eddie.

'Eddie?' said Jack.

'Pat me on the head like that again and I'll butt you right in the balls.'

'Sorry,' said Jack, withdrawing his patting hand.

'I know what you're thinking,' said Eddie. 'You're thinking that Bill has absconded with the advance money, leaving the silly little bear to deal with the case. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?'

'Of course not,' said Jack.

'Then you are a complete gormster,' said Eddie. 'Because that's what's happened.'

'Oh,' said Jack. 'Then you...'

'Of course I know. But I don't care. Solving the case is all that matters to me. Applying the sawdust in my head to finding the solution. Proving to myself that I can do it, even if I never get the credit. Can you understand that, Jack?'

'Not really.’ Jack shook his head.

'Then it's too subtle for you. But it's what I do and who I am. You'll get paid, you'll do well out of this, if you join me.'

'I will join you,' said Jack. 'I've said I will. And we've shaken hand and paw and we're partners.'

'Good,' said Eddie. 'But just as long as we understand each other. I have the measure of you, Jack. But you'll never have the measure of me.'

'If you say so.'

'I do. Drink up, and I'll buy you another.'

'I'm beginning to feel rather drunk,' said Jack. 'And on such small glasses of beer too.'

'The youth of today has no staying power.'

Til survive,' said Jack. 'I might throw up a bit later, but I'll survive.'

'I'll throw up with you; let's drink.' Eddie ordered more beer. 'We'll make a great team,' he told Jack.

'I'm sure we will.’ Jack raised his glass and drank, spilling much of what little beer there was down his chin.

'We have so much in common,' said Eddie, doing likewise.

'This case.’ Jack replaced his glass upon the bar, with some small degree of difficulty. 'This prominent member of society who got murdered, tell me about him.'

'Fat sod,' said Eddie. 'Big fat sod. Someone boiled him.'

'Boiled him?'

'Alive in his swimming pool. Heated the water to boiling point and pushed him in, or something like.'

'Fiendish,' said Jack.

'That's my opinion,' said Eddie. 'And I think there's some kind of cover-up. The papers are even suggesting that it was suicide.'

'Suicide? In a boiling swimming pool?'

'The papers are putting it about that he tried to commit suicide once before.'

'And did he?'

'Not in my opinion. He fell.'

'Fell?'

'Off a high wall. Broke half the bones in his body. There was a regiment of soldiers passing at the time, but they couldn't resuscitate him. Paramedics patched him up, though. They were conveniently close.'

'Come again?' said Jack.

'It was big news at the time. There was a song written about it. He was nothing before that song, but he got rich from the royalties. Because he wrote it himself

'Eh?' said Jack.

'Scam,' said Eddie. 'The whole thing was a set-up.'

'I'm lost,' said Jack. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'But I bet you know the murder victim.'

'How could I? I'm new to this city.'

'You'll have heard of him. You'll even have sung about him falling off that wall.'

'I don't think that's very likely,' said Jack.

'Oh, I think you'll find that it is,' said Eddie. 'His name was Humpty Dumpty.'