The Tattooed Potato and Other Clues by Ellen Raskin

Author:Ellen Raskin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Young Adult, Childrens
ISBN: 9780525423683
Publisher: Puffin
Published: 1975-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

With the envelope clutched tightly in her hand, Dickory turned the corner into Cobble Lane. From the opposite direction the chief’s car slowly turned into the bend, honking its horn to warn the blind man. The derelict, having just settled down on his stoop, opened a bleary eye and closed it again.

“Hickory Dickory Dock,

The mouse ran up the clock,

The clock struck four,

He opened the door,

Just like Hickory Dickory Dock.”

Dickory didn’t mind the rhyme today, but not because of the Christina Rossetti story or George’s funnier name. “Hello, Chief Quinn,” she said loudly and cheerily, grateful to have this official-looking, cigar-smoking bodyguard at her side as she handed the letter through the crack in Mallomar’s door.

“Welcome.” Garson descended the stairs from the upper floor as Dickory and the chief entered the studio. “Any news on the counterfeiter?” he asked, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt at his wrists.

“Ah, yes, the counterfeiter. Much to the consternation of the feds,” the chief announced with pride, “Winston S. Fiddle was apprehended by the New York City Police Department, Bureau of Detectives.”

The name sounded familiar to both Garson and Dickory.

“It should sound familiar,” Quinn said. “That egomaniac not only put his face on the five-dollar bill, he also signed his name to it. No one bothered to find out who was Secretary of the Treasury when those counterfeit bills were in circulation.”

Garson slumped in his chair. Dickory tried to remember who the Secretary of the Treasury was now. She couldn’t.

“You were right on all the other details, though,” the chief had to admit. “And sooner or later we would have found him, either through the engravers’ union or plastic surgeons. Fiddle did have a nose job; and he did eat red pistachio nuts (three pounds a day, in fact); and he was older than he appeared in his portrait; and he was left-handed.”

“How did you find him?” Garson asked.

“A bit of dumb luck, dumb meaning Fiddle the engraver. He decided to print ten million dollars more. Ten million bucks takes a lot of paper, you know. Tons of paper. The floor collapsed—paper, printing press, and all. The police emergency crew found Fiddle buried under an avalanche of phony five-dollar bills.”

“Dead?” asked Dickory.

“No, just a broken left arm.”

“An ironic and just punishment,” Garson commented.

“A rather unusual case altogether,” Quinn remarked. “Have you noticed that two of the four horsemen of crime were involved here? Vanity and Greed. I’m afraid your next case was instigated by greed alone.”

“Next case?”

The chief nodded. “I call it The Case of the Full-Sized Midget.”

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