The Horsmarlonerpool Trumpeter is an outstanding newspaper. It makes the news interesting, whether it’s a story about an exploding cake or a funny shaped potato. And it has wonderful photographs and games and competitions, and interviews with interesting people. And that’s because everyone who works at the Trumpeter is interested in things, even small things. And nobody is more interested in things than its chief investigator reporter - Athena Mintsauce.
An investigator reporter, or as she’s properly known - investigative reporter - is a reporter who doesn’t just report on what’s going on, but discovers things to report on that people didn’t even know was going on. A bit like a detective and a writer all rolled into one. People say that Athena Mintsauce has “a nose for a story”. She could sniff one out.
One cold and windy Tuesday morning, Athena had buttoned her green woolen coat right up to the neck and headed to the town hall to interview Mayor Dubbin. Sat in his warm office, she was listening to him talk about his early years at Half Hitch School when she noticed a large key - about as long as a pencil - hanging on the wall in a glass case.
“Excuse me, Mister Mayor,” said Athena Mintsauce. “But that key - I’ve not seen it before. What it’s the key to?”
Mayor Dubbin turned around in his seat to look at it. “Oh that, well that’s the Town Key. The key to the town.”
But Athena wasn’t quite satisfied with the answer. “But Horsmarlonerpool doesn’t have any town gates,” she said. “What lock does it fit, exactly?”
Well Mayor Dubbin is a very nice man, but the type who doesn’t like to show it when he doesn’t know the answer to things. “Well. It’s the key to the - uh. The key to the whole town. The Town Key, as I say.”
“Yes,” said Athena, “But all keys must fit a lock. Which lock does it fit?”
“Well, the lock to the… the lock that locks the, um… I don’t know, Miss Mintsauce.”
“Well, would you mind if I borrowed it?” asked Athena. “I’m sure together we could figure it out, Mr Mayor.”
The Mayor liked being told he was clever and sat up straight. “I’m sure we shall!” he said. “Please, be my guest.”
Athena carefully removed the old key from its case and carefully placed it in her bag. And that afternoon, she set off around town looking for buildings that might have a lock it would fit. “What a story for the Trumpeter this could be,” she thought.
She examined the key. It was made of iron, it was very heavy, and clearly very old. Maybe, she guessed, three or four hundred years old.
“Well that means,” she reasoned to herself, “that whatever door or gate this fits must be three or four hundred years old itself. There’s no point looking at buildings any newer than that.”
She stood in the square where Pepperpot Street meets Candlesmoke Lane and looked around her. The Old Town of Horsmarlonerpool had loads of buildings at least three or four hundred years old.
“But it is an important looking key. The building must be quite important, too.”
So she headed first to Castle Earnose and asked Lord and Lady Devonroe if she could try all the doors in the castle from the tops of the turrets down to the dungeons. It took more than three hours - but nothing fitted.
Then she went to Half Hitch school and asked Mrs Perrinpeas the headmistress is she could investigate there. She tried every classroom, office, passage and store room - but nothing fitted.
Then she headed for Horsmarlonerpool Library. That must be a least six or seven hundred years old. And Miss Kelvingrove the librarian showed her the secret old vaults and the oldest cabinets and even the little attic office - but nothing fitted.
That evening, tired from a full day of walking and investigating, Athena opened the door to her little townhouse on Cherrypie Street, and set about making herself dinner. As she cooked, she spoke to herself - because talking to herself about a problem was one of her favorite ways of solving it. “It’s not Castle Earnose,” she said. “And it’s not Half Hitch school. And it’s not the library. But it’s so old it must really be somewhere here in the Old Town…”
But as she spoke to herself, a strange device was being held at the outside of her kitchen window. And at the other end, listening, were Pebbles and Crater - the two only really naughty people in Horsmarlonerpool! They had been secretly following Athena ever since she left the mayor at the town hall, and desperately wanted the key for themselves because maybe it unlocked treasure? Maybe it unlocked secret diamonds or a room full of gold?
That night, as Athena lay in bed, there was a quiet tinkle of glass breaking downstairs. In her kitchen, a metal grabber came through the broken window and slid the special town key off the hook where Athena had hung it. And then took it back out the window. “Got it,” said Pebbles to Crater and they both giggled.
Upstairs, Athena got out of bed, frowned to herself, and quickly got dressed.
Outside on the street, Pebbles and Crater - with Pebbles holding the town key - were arguing to themselves. “This way,” said Crater. “No, we’ll try this way first,” replied Pebbles.
They tried every door and every gate. But nothing fitted. But then, as they snuck down Tinker’s Lane, they saw one old door lit by a blue light that hung above it. It seemed to shine out to them. “Let’s try,” said Crater, and they were amazed when the key not only fitted the lock in the old door, but turned smoothly. They’d found it!
They pushed the door open.
Inside was completely dark, but feeling they might be on their way to secret treasure, they carefully crept in. Then, they heard the door shut behind them! And before they could turn to try and open it, the lights went on!
They were standing in a small room, with three bare stone walls, a little bed, and a row of thick iron bars from floor to ceiling where the fourth wall should be.
“Hello you two,” said Sergeant Handle, Horsmarlonerpool’s Police Officer.
Pebbles and Crater were standing in a cell.
“You know,” said Sergeant Handle. “That breaking into someone’s house is a very serious crime.”
“But we never broke in to no-one’s house,” said Crater.
“Oh you did,” said a voice. “You broke into mine.”
Athena Mintsauce walked into view and stood beside Sergeant Handle. “After I saw you following me about all day to Castle Earnose, and to Half Hitch School, and to the Library, I thought you might be interested to go looking for the mysterious keyhole yourselves. Which is why,” she continued, “when I realized when I was cooking dinner that the only place old and important enough for the key to fit was the old entrance to the Police Station I thought I might as well leave the key up on the hook to see if anyone was kind enough to go and find out.”
Pebbles stamped her feet! “You trapped us!”
“Hmm. It looks like you’ve gone and trapped yourselves,” said Athena. “Now, picture of the paper?”
She quickly raised her phone and before Pebbles or Crater could hide their faces, took a photo that the very next afternoon was on the front page of the Horsmarlonerpool Trumpeter Evening Edition.
“EXCLUSIVE!” read the headline. “Pebbles and Crater in town key calamity - by Chief Reporter Athena Mintsauce.”
And in her Police Station, Sergeant Handle unlocked the door to the cell where Pebbles and Crater were sat. “Here you go, you two,” she said. “I’ve brought you dinner. Fish and Chips. Wrapped in your favourite newspaper.”
Pebbles and Crater looked down at their dinner - their own faces staring up at them through the chips - and sighed.
