“Chumley Undercover!” “It sounds like a mega-hit, a TV crime series!” ululates Violet Crepuscular, introducing Chapter CDLXXVI of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney–“like one of those BBC things!”
Yes, Constable Chumley has gone undercover. This is to be distinguished, Ms. Crepuscular points out, from going under the covers, which he has also done upon occasion. He has never quite forgotten the stories his mother told him about Old Breechie when he was a “wee foondy.” It is those stories that sometimes drives him under the covers. “Mav, ye horthern a drate ribble,” he admits.
As we drift into Chapter CDLXXVII, we still don’t know why the constable has gone undercover. Ms. Crepuscular believes that not telling us will heighten the suspense. “That’s why I’m the Queen of Suspense!” she vulcanizes. We thought it might have something to do with Mr. Bigcheeks turning out to be a lineal descendant of the medieval sorcerer, Black Rodney, but it seems the constable has never met or even heard of Mr. Bigcheeks, despite the fact that both men have lived in Scurveyshire Village all their lives and it’s really quite a small village. (Free toothpaste-filled cupcake to anyone who can diagram that last sentence. I tried and my hair fell out.)
And, as if by magic, we arrive at the threshold of the next chapter not a whit the wiser for having read this one.