The case of the missing appendage

It was nine o'clock at night upon the tenth of April - the most terrible April in the history of the world. One might have thought already that God's curse hung heavy over a degenerate world, for there was an awesome hush and a feeling of vague expectation in the sultry and stagnant air of Wanganui that night. The sun had long set, but one blood-red gash like an open wound lay low in the distant west. Above, the stars were shining brightly, and below, the lights of the shipping glimmered in the port.

The two furtive figures stood beside the stone parapet of the garden walk, with their heads close together, talking in low, confidential tones. From below the two glowing ends of their cigars might have been the smouldering eyes of some malignant fiend looking down in the darkness.

"Are you absolutely certain?" asked the shorter of the two, in querelous tones. "There can be no doubt, I'm afraid," said the taller man, noticeable not only for the deerstalker hat perched on an aquiline head, but for the large pipe he sported - nowadays almost always unlit lest Helen's Anti-Smoking Police offended his dignity with their accursed water pistols.

"It can't, of course, leak out to the public," said Dr Watson (for it was he). "It may already be too late," riposted Holmes (for it was also he). Almost everything Holmes said was a riposte. And let's face it, anyone who walked round in summer in a Harris tweed cape sporting a deerstalker and an unlit pipe had to have a riposte at the ready at a moment's notice.

"After all, the poor fellow quite clearly said, back in July 2005:

Mayor Laws has offered to lead the development of a group with the assistance of the Library Manager. It is envisaged that a structure, such as a charitable trust, will be set up. He has suggested that as well as seeking donations to add to the book stock the group could organise say two fundraising events per year; suggestions include a Masque Ball and a Celebrity Debate. Mayor Laws intends to launch the new group at a function to be held in the newly refurbished CouncilChambers.

and yet now he's simply handed Sally Patrick $1 million in the LTCCP. There can be only one explanation, and even the simple, docile folk of Wanganui will wake up to it sooner or later."

"Couldn't it simply be because at that time, Sally Patrick was just another lonely figure up on Queen's Park?" Watson asked his mentor hopefully. "I mean, in the last annual plan, there was $50,000 cut from the library's book budget. That was why the Mayor offered to head up a Friends of the Library group and fleece the town's socialites for zillions of new books by holding a masked ball in the first place. But now Sally has agreed to go along with everything he wants, she gets $1 million. They'll surely just be be fooled into thinking she's been bought?"

"Ah, my dear Watson," said Holmes, whose attempt to drip condescension from every pore was ruined by the subsequent coughing fit when he forgot his pipe was empty and sucked in a lungful of cold Wanganui night air. "You forget that the Mayor also promised similar extravanganzas to fund the Splash Centre, with him at the helm. Yet that too has simply been given a cartload of money - most of it borrowed - in the LTCCP.

"Docile the Wanganui folk may be, but they have strange limits and one must learn to observe them. It is that surface simplicity of theirs which makes a trap for the stranger. One's first impression is that they are entirely soft. Then one comes suddenly upon something very hard, and you know that you have reached the limit and must adapt yourself to the fact."

"You mean, they may figure it out for themselves?!" asked Watson, clearly aghast. "But so far most of them have done nothing, aside from these mysterious 'Watchers' he has brought us here to find." At the mention of the name of these dread figures, both men looked furtively over their shoulders. Was that a faint tinkling of gin glasses coming from behind the water tower?

"Well when their rates notices arrive bearing increased demands despite the fact they were happy to let our employer mortgage their futures, and those of their children, by borrowing, I expect they may put aside their morning propaganda sheets and start asking questions, yes."

"And they'll notice this carefully concealed change of fundraising methodology?" whispered Watson, knowing as he did so that it would pain his dear friend to have to answer.

"Elementary my dear Watson," riposted Holmes, remembering not to suck on his pipe stem this time. "This isn't the first time he has offered to put on such a display, yet he never follows through. Even the simplest Wanganui rube will notice that Mickey's Balls are Missing. You know what we must do, Watson..."

"Yes, Holmes," muttered his companion. "But Wanganui is damned cold at this time of year. Why does it have to be my socks we put in the lycra shorts?"