The Fifth Elephant

chalk now because I ain’t got time to get it done properly,” he said, “So don’t be cheeky.”
    “What’s up with Nobby?” said Reg. Corporal Nobbs was holding a damp cloth over one eye.
    “Bit of a contry tomps with an illegally parked troll,” said Captain Colon.
    “Shows what kind of troll he was, striking a lady,” muttered Nobby.
    “But you ain’t a lady, Nobby. You’re just wearing your traffic-calming disguise.”
    “He wasn’t to know.”
    “You’d got your helmet on. Anyway, you shouldn’t have clamped him.”
    “He was parked, Fred.”
    “He’d been knocked down by a cart,” said Captain Colon. “And that’s Captain.”
    “Well, they always have excuses,” said Nobby sullenly.
    “You’d better show us the corpus, Reg,” said Colon.
    The body in the cellar was duly inspected.
    “…and I remember Cheery saying there was a smell of cat’s pee and sulfur at the Dwarf Bread Museum,” said Reg.
    “Certainly hangs about,” said Colon. “You wouldn’t have blocked sinuses if you worked here for a day.”
    “And I thought, ‘I wonder if someone’d tried to make a mold of the replica Stone,’ sir,” said Reg.
    “Now that is clever,” said Fred Colon. “You’d get the real one back then, wouldn’t you?”
    “Er…no, Sarge—Captain. But you’d get a copy of the replica.”
    “Would that be legal?”
    “Can’t say, sir. I wouldn’t think so. It wouldn’t fool a dwarf for five minutes.”
    “Then who’d want to kill him?”
    “A father of thirteen kids, maybe?” said Nobby. “Haha.”
    “Nobby, will you stop pinching the merchandise?” said Colon. “And don’t argue, I just saw you put a couple of dozen in your handbag.”
    “Dat don’t matter,” rumbled the troll. “Mister Sonky always said dey was free to the Watch.”
    “That was very…civic of him,” said Captain Colon.
    “Yeah, he said der last fing we wanted was more bloody coppers around the city.”
    A pigeon chose that diplomatic moment to flutter into the factory and land on Colon’s shoulder, where it promoted him. He reached up, removed the message capsule and unfolded the contents.
    “It’s from Visit,” he said. “There’s a clue, he says.”
    “What to?” said Nobby.
    “Not to anything, Nobby. Just a clue.” He took off his helmet and wiped his brow. This was what he’d hoped to avoid. In his heart of battered hearts, he suspected that Vimes and Carrot were good at putting clues next to other clues and thinking about them. That was their talent. He had other…well, he was good with people, and he had a shiny breastplate, and he could sergeant in his sleep.
    “All right, write up your report,” he said. “Well done. We’re going back to the Yard.”
    “I can see this is going to get on top of me,” said Colon, as they walked away. “There’s paperwork, too. You know me and paperwork, Nobby.”
    “You’re a very thorough reader, that’s all, Fred,” said Nobby. “I’ve seen you take ages over just one page. Digesting it magisterially, I thought.”
    Colon brightened a little. “Yes, that’s what I do,” he said.
    “Even if it’s only the menu down at the Klatchian takeout, I’ve seen you staring at one line for a minute at a time.”
    “Well, obviously you can’t let people put one over on you,” said Colon, sticking out his chest, or at least sticking it further up.
    “What you need is an aide de camp,” said Nobby, lifting his dress to step over a puddle.
    “I do?”
    “Oh yes. ’Cos of you being a figurehead and setting an example to your men,” said Nobby.
    “Ah. Right. Yes,” said Colon, grasping the idea with relief. “A man can’t be expected to do all that and read long words, am I right?”
    “Exactly. And, of course, we’re down one sergeant at the Yard now,” said Nobby.
    “Good point, Nobby. It’s going to be busy.”
    They walked on for a while.
    “You could promote someone,” Nobby prompted.
    “Could I?”
    “What good’s being the boss if you can’t?”
    “That’s true. And it’s sort of an emergency…Hmm…any thoughts, Nobby?”
    Nobby sighed inwardly. A penny could drop through wet cement faster than it could drop for Fred Colon.
    “A name springs to mind,” he said.
    “Ah, right. Yes. Reg Shoe, right? Good at writing, a keen thinker, and of course he’s coolheaded,” said Colon. “Icy, practically.”
    “But a bit on the dead side,” said Nobby.
    “Yes, I suppose that counts against