“You’ll tell me nothing,” said Chief Inspector Bellis, “because I am dropping all the charges.”

“You are?” said Eddie.

“I am,” said Bellis, “because I know you are innocent.”

“You do?” said Eddie.

“I do,” said Bellis. “And upon this occasion I am prepared to let the fact that you are innocent stand in the way of letting justice be done.”

“You are?” said Eddie. “Why?” said Eddie.

“Because in return for this, you are going to do something for me. Something that I surmise you are already doing and something I wish you to continue doing.”

“I am now very confused,” said Eddie.

“I believe I am correct in assuming that you have returned to your old profession,” said Bellis, “that of detective.”

Eddie nodded.

“You see, I know that it was not you who purchased those cigars with the mysterious combustible currency.”

“You do?” said Eddie once more.

“I do,” said Bellis once more. “You see, I have these.” And he drew from his desk a number of plasticised packets and flung them onto his desk.

Eddie took one up between his paws and examined it. “Cigar butt,” he said.

“Eleven cigar butts,” said Bellis, “one found at each of the cymbal-playing monkeys’ resting places. All over the city. Eleven cigar butts. The twelfth you showed to Smokey Joe. You went there to enquire whether he recalled who he sold it to, didn’t you?”

“I did,” said Eddie.

“And the twelfth monkey?”

“Dead in Bill’s office,” said Eddie.

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” said Bellis. “And they all died within minutes of each other. And I do not believe that you ran all over the city on your stumpy little legs wiping each and every one of them out – did you?”

Eddie shook his head.

“And now you are investigating these crimes?”

“Yes,” said Eddie. “I am. We are.”

“And I would like you to continue doing so.”

“Really?” said Eddie. “You would?”

“Twelve monkeys,” said Bellis. “All the cymbal-playing monkeys. Annoying blighters they were, I agree, but they were our kind. They were toys. The murderer must be brought to justice.”

“I don’t understand,” said Eddie.

“About justice?”

“Well, I understand about that. Or at least your concept of it. Which is as just as.”

“Did you read the paper?” asked Bellis. “The crimes made page thirteen. I requested of my ‘superior’ that I be allowed to put a special task force on the monkeys’ case. The memo I received in reply stated that it was a low priority.”

“Typical,” said Eddie. “Disgusting, in fact.”

“I do so agree,” said Bellis. “I blame it on that mad mayor we had.”

“Now just hold on,” said Eddie.

“Yes?” said Bellis.

“Nothing,” said Eddie. “Go on, please.”

“You,” said Bellis, “you and Mr Jack here are going to act on my behalf. You are going to be my special task force. You will report directly to me on whatever progress you are making. Do you understand me?”

Jack nodded. “Up to a point,” said he. “So we will report directly to you to receive our wages, will we?”

Chief Inspector Bellis made a certain face towards Jack. One that Jack did not wish to be repeated.

“Would there be any chance of a reward, then,” Jack asked, “if we could present you with a suitable culprit?”

Eddie now gave Jack a certain look.

“Sorry,” said Jack. “The real culprit, then? The real murderer?”

“Exactly,” said Bellis. “And in return for this public-spirited action I will forget about all the trumped-up charges that we have piled up against the bear.”

“But I’m innocent,” said Eddie.

“I think we’ve been through that,” said Bellis. “you and Jack will be my secret task force. You will find the murderer.”

“We’ll certainly try,” said Eddie.

“Oh, you’ll do more than that. You will succeed.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Or you’ll feed the boiler.”

“Ah,” said Eddie.

“Ah indeed,” said Bellis.

“Hm,” went Eddie. “Well, we’ll certainly do our very, very best to succeed. You can be assured of that.”

“Nice,” said Bellis.

“But the trouble is,” said Eddie, “that the only clue we had was the cigar butt. And that just led to a case of mistaken identity. So I have no idea what to do next.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” said Bellis.

“I’m not too sure,” said Eddie.

“Brrrr,” said Bellis. “Is it cold in here, or is it just me?”

“Ah,” said Eddie.

“Ah indeed,” said Chief Inspector Bellis.

“That Bellis is a monster,” said Eddie. “I’m fuel for his boiler for certain.”

“Look on the bright side, Eddie,” said Jack. “At least we have our freedom.”

They’d had to walk all the way from the police station to the cigar shop to pick up Bill’s car, but now they were back in Tinto’s Bar and Tinto was pouring them a number of beers.

“I’m doomed,” said Eddie.

“You’re not,” said Jack. “He wants the case solved. And he knows that if anyone can solve it, then you are that someone.”

“Thanks for that,” said Eddie.

“Well, you can,” said Jack.

“Not for that,” said Eddie. “For calling me someone rather than something.”

“I’d never call you something,” said Jack. “You’re Eddie. You’re my bestest friend.”

“So we’re definitely back in business together? You haven’t let this first day out put you off? You’re not going to quit on me?”

“As if I would. But it is a mystery, isn’t it? Twelve monkeys dead, seemingly within minutes. And the cigar butts. And the cigar man thinking you’d bought the cigars from him. What do you make of it all?”

“Dunno,” said Eddie. “Something very odd happened last night. I thought I saw something in the alleyway where I was dossing down in a dustbin, but the timing is all wrong. I do have to say, Jack, that I have no idea at all what is going on. But whatever it is, I don’t like it very much.”

“How are those beers coming, Tinto?” Jack asked.

“Slowly,” said the clockwork barman. “Could you see your way clear to giving my key a couple of turns – I think I’m running down here.”

Jack leaned across the bar and did the business with Tinto’s key.

“Thank you,” said Tinto.

“You’re welcome,” said Jack.

“Let’s drink the beers,” said Eddie. “It has been a long and trying day.”

“Ah, yes,” said Jack. “And it’s definitely evening now.”

“So we should drink beers and get drunk. That is my considered opinion.”

“And the case?”

“I don’t know,” said Eddie, taking up a beer between his paws and moving it towards that portion of his face where many beers had gone before. And, “Ah,” said Eddie, when he had done with his beer. “That does hit the spot.”

“You drink too much,” said Jack.

“Too much for what?” said Eddie.

Jack shrugged and said, “I dunno.”

“Then don’t presume to,” said Eddie. “Just drink.”

“You don’t think that you should be applying yourself to the case in hand?”

“Not right now,” said Eddie. “And nor should you. I seem to recall that you were supposed to be meeting up with a certain dolly from Nadine’s Diner tonight.”

“Oh dear,” said Jack. “I’d quite forgotten about her.”

“Bad boy,” said Eddie. “Very bad boy.”

Jack perused his wristlet watch. The time was eight of the evening clock. Jack held the watch against his ear: it was ticking away like a good’n and he had no cause to doubt its accuracy. Mind you, Jack had taken that watch to pieces a couple of times to see just what made it run, as Jack knew all about clockwork. Inside that watch there was nothing to be found except for a couple of cogs that connected the winder to the hands. There was no evidence whatsoever of a conventional mechanism.

But then that in a watchcase was Toy City. It still made little sense to Jack. Watches without mechanisms that kept perfect time. Telephone receivers connected by pieces of string. Wooden folk and folk like Eddie, a bear all filled with sawdust, yet a bear that walked and talked and thought and felt. And Jack felt for that bear.