“We can make up for that,” said Amelie.

Eddie wished that he possessed eyebrows, because if he had he could have raised one now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Jack. “Eddie and I have business to attend to.”

The sulky Amelie was dropped at her door, kissed by Jack and waved goodbye to. Jack and Eddie continued on their way.

“Fine-looking dolly,” said Eddie. “Fine long legs and big –”

“Stop,” said Jack. “And tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Whatever it was you were holding back from Bellis. You know more than you’re telling.”

“Of course I do,” said Eddie, “but I wanted to put the wind up Bellis.”

“You put the wind up me, too. Monsters from outer space, is that what you’re saying?”

“Perhaps,” said Eddie. “Perhaps.”

“So go on, tell me.”

“I don’t know if I should.”

“We’re partners, Eddie. You can trust me, you know you can.”

Eddie shrugged and sighed. “I know,” he said, “but this is bad and it really doesn’t make sense.”

“Just tell me, Eddie, perhaps I can help.” Eddie swerved violently around a corner, dislodging Eddie from his seat.

“Slow down!” cried Eddie. “Slow down!”

Jack slowed down. “Where are we going anyway?” he asked.

“Back to Tinto’s,” said Eddie.

“Of course,” said Jack. “Where else?”

Eddie sat and tried to fold his arms. As ever, he did so without success.

“Out with it,” said Jack.

“All right,” said Eddie. “There was other evidence that I didn’t mention to Bellis. I can tell you the height of the murderer. I can tell you his weight. I can tell you his race and his covering.”

“Go on then,” said Jack.

“My height,” said Eddie, “my weight, my race and my plush covering.”

“A teddy?” said Jack. “A teddy is the murderer?”

“Not just any teddy. An Anders Imperial.”

“Just like you.”

“Not just like me – more than that.”

“I don’t understand,” said Jack, taking yet another corner without much slowing down.

“Paw prints,” said Eddie. “Paw prints are as individual as a meathead’s fingerprints. Even with mass-produced toys, they’re all slightly different. They’re all individual.”

“So you could identify the killer from those paw prints?”

“I already have,” said Eddie.

“So you know who the murderer is? Eddie, you are a genius.”

Eddie shook his head. Sadly so, as it happened. “I know who the murderer is,” said he, “but I also know that he can’t be the murderer.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Jack,” said Eddie, “I recognised your footprints on that stage.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Jack, and he took another corner at speed, just for good measure.

“I know it wasn’t you. But I could recognise your footprints anywhere, as well as I could recognise my own. And that’s the problem.”

Jack shook his head. “You’re really making a meal of this,” said he. “If you recognised the paw prints, who is the murderer?”

“I recognised the paw prints of the murderer,” said Eddie, “because they are my paw prints. But I’m not the murderer!”

Presently, Jack screeched to a halt before Tinto’s Bar and the two alighted from the car.

“I hope he’s still here,” said Eddie.

“Tinto rarely recognises licensing hours,” said Jack.

“Not Tinto, the spaceman.”

“What spaceman? There’s a spaceman in Tinto’s Bar?”

“I spoke with him earlier. He told me that it was a member of the vanguard of the alien strikeforce who had blasted the monkeys.”

“Ah,” said Jack. “You had been drinking at the time, hadn’t you?”

“I’d had one or two,” said Eddie, “but I know what he told me. And he told me that these aliens fancied a visit to a jazz club.”

“Old King Cole’s,” said Jack.

“Precisely,” said Eddie.

“But an alien teddy bear, who is your doppelganger?”

“Stranger things have happened,” said Eddie.

“Name one,” said Jack.

“Let’s go in,” said Eddie.

Tinto’s Bar was rather crowded now. In fact, it was rather crowded with a lot of swells that Jack recognised as former patrons of Old King Cole’s.

Jack swore beneath his breath.

Eddie, whose hearing was acute, chuckled.

“We don’t want their type in here,” said Jack.

“And whose type would that be?” Eddie asked.

“You know what I mean.” Jack elbowed his way towards the bar and Eddie followed on in Jack’s wake.

Tinto was serving drinks every which way. Jack located an empty barstool and hoisted Eddie onto it. “Drinks over here, Tinto,” he called.

“You’ll have to wait your turn,” called Tinto. “I have posh clientele to serve here.”

Jack ground his teeth.

Eddie said, “The spaceman was over there in the far corner, Jack – can you see if he’s still there?”

Jack did head-swerves and peepings. “I can’t see any spaceman,” he said. “A couple of gollies playing dominoes, but no spaceman.”

“Tinto,” called Eddie to the barman, “if you can tear yourself away from your new best friends …”

Tinto trundled up the bar. “Did you hear what happened at Old King Cole’s?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Eddie. “But tell me this – where did the spaceman go?”

“Is that a trick question?” Tinto asked.

“No,” said Eddie.

“Shame,” said Tinto.

“So, do you know where the spaceman went?”

Tinto scratched at the top of his head. “Space?” he suggested. “Is that the right answer? Do I get a prize?”

“You do,” said Eddie. “You win the chance to pour Jack and me fourteen beers.”

“Fourteen?” said Tinto, and he whistled. “Was that the star prize?”

Tinto wheeled off to do the business.

Jack said, “Eddie, did you really meet a real spaceman?”

“It all depends what you mean by ‘real’.”

“No it doesn’t,” said Jack, elbowing a swell who really didn’t need elbowing.

“He was a clockwork spaceman,” said Eddie. “But who is to say whether all spacemen are clockwork?”

“He was a toy spaceman?”

“And who is to say that all spacemen aren’t toy spacemen?”

“I’d be prepared to say it, but as I don’t believe in spacemen, it hardly matters whether I say it or not.”

“So you don’t believe in the concept that there might be other worlds like ours out there somewhere and that there might be life on them?”

Jack shrugged. “Back in the town where I was brought up, there was a lot of talk about that sort of thing. Alien abductions, they were called. People would be driving their cars at night, down some deserted country road, then there’d be a really bright light and then they’d be driving their cars again, but a couple of hours would have passed and they’d have no memory of what had happened. Then this fellow started hypnotising these people and all sorts of strange stories came out about what had happened during the missing hours. That they’d been taken up into space by space aliens and experimented upon, had things poked up their bums.”

“Up their bums?”

“Apparently the space aliens do a lot of that kind of thing.”

“Why?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Perhaps they have a really weird sense of humour, or they are a bit pervy – who can tell with spacemen?”

“And these people were telling the truth?”

Jack shrugged. “Who can say? In my humble opinion they were all mentals.”

“So you’re not a believer?”

“No,” said Jack, “I’m not. I know what I believe in and I know what I don’t. And I don’t believe in spacemen.”

“I seem to recall,” said Eddie, “when I first met you on the first night that you arrived in Toy City, that you didn’t believe toys could walk and talk and think and live.”

“I still find that hard to believe,” said Jack.

Eddie made exasperated noises. Tinto arrived with the drinks on a tray. There were many drinks. Many more than fourteen.