The Hippo of Indeterminate Hue: Part 2

“Good god!” The detective snatched the card away from the Sergeant, reading it for himself. “You there!” he said, pointing at the young man who’d brought the card. “Bring Mr. von Bueller-Smith-Ashfelt up immediately!”

“Sir,” the young officer said, saluting weakly, and then staggered down the alley, returning a moment later with a 30-ish man in a tuxedo and top hat, who was accompanied by a rather short man carrying a small chalk-board and wearing a red scarf around his neck.

The detective stood up, brushing off his trousers and straightening his tie. “Mr. von Bueller-Smith-Ashfelt?” he said, holding out his hand. “Detective Smitts. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” said von Bueller-Smith-Ashfelt, taking the proffered hand. “This is my manservant, a mute Turk I call Mangrove.”

“My name’s Robert!” said the decidedly non-mute Mangrove, in a distinct London accent.

“Yes,” continued von Bueller-Smith-Ashfelt. “Utterly mute. Can’t speak at all.”

Detective Smitts stared, first at one man and then the other. “I think he just did.”

“Impossible,” said von Bueller-Smith-Ashfelt. “He’s been with me nearly 8-years and he hasn’t uttered a single word the entire time.”

“But-” began the detective, only to be silenced by a raised hand.

“There is more pressing business at hand, is there not?” asked von Bueller-Smith-Ashfelt.

“Uh, yes, sir,” said the detective, glancing at Robert/Mangrove, who just shrugged. “A body found just an hour ago. Rather . . . squished.”

Von-Bueller-Smith-Ashfelt nodded. “As I surmised.” He strode over to the corpse, the waiting officers parting before him. He took only a cursory glance at the body. “Yes,” he said. “The work of the Hippo.”

“The what, sir?” asked the Sergeant.

“The Hippo of Indeterminate Hue,” said von Bueller-Smith-Ashfelt. “The most fiendish ungulate ever to walk this earth. Well,” he amended. “That I am aware of. Certainly, other hippopotami of a criminal bent have appeared throughout history, though I would wager that few matched the Hippo of Indeterminate Hue in either cunning or savagery.”

Detective Smitts stared at the tuxedoed gentleman for a moment. “What?” he finally asked?

Later: A History!