A Caper in Fabel: The True Story of Humpty Dumpty

By Alexander A. Anderson

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
...or did he?

Detective Nathaniel Spade is known far and wide as the best PI in town, and the only one who is not operating out of the kings pocket. The land of Fabel is a vibrant world full of well known characters from historys most famous fables, nursery rhymes and fairy tales. One would imagine a world filled with bedtime stories to be a place of great cheer and tranquility, but when beloved characters as innocent as Little Miss Muffet, Old King Cole and the Ugly Duckling begin to show their true colors, it becomes apparent that all is not as it seems in the land of Fabel.

For years the great fall of Humpty Dumpty has been dismissed as an accident. It is up to Detective Spade to piece together the evidence that will illuminate Fabels darkest shadows with the light of truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781450281775

Alexander A. Anderson

Hi, I’m Alex. Thanks for reading my book! So, here’s a little bit about me: I was born in Detroit, raised in New Orleans, and did some growing-up in Tennessee. I, however, have found a home like no other in Charlotte, NC. I studied English/Creative Writing at the University of TN, Emergency Medicine in St. Petersburg FL, attended (survived) Mercy School of Nursing in 2009, and graduated from WGU with an MSN in Informatics in 2019. I am currently touring schools with the goal of promoting creative writing, reading, and education. If you are a teacher and would like me to visit your students, drop me a line at [e-mail]. Also, check out my website at XanderAnderson.com. Much love!

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Copyright © 2011 Alexander A. Anderson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4502-8176-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-8177-5 (ebk)

iUniverse rev. date: 09/06/2012

Contents

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

Epilogue

For my grandmother Mildred and the memory of her home in New Orleans.

For my grandfather Richard, who helped to teach us the truth.

And for Val, my dragonfly.

Prologue

Once upon a time in the land of Fabel, there was a city known far and wide as Cowatch—the nation of the trolls. The trolls, though not the most beautiful of creatures, were honest and hardworking farmers. They kept to themselves but were always amiable to their neighbors and loyal to the king. The land of Cowatch was vast and beautiful. The soil was rich. The crops were ubiquitous.

One day, the trolls were approached by the king’s men, who delivered an edict signed by the king. The edict stated that the trolls were to be paid sixty million shekels, plus cancellation of debts worth eighteen million shekels, in exchange for their land. The king, according to the edict, had plans to expand the Imperial City—broadening its walls through the land of Cowatch and beyond. The trolls were to be relocated to Low Sneeran, a land situated miles downriver of the Imperial City. The king’s men assured the trolls that Low Sneeran was equally as beautiful as Cowatch and that the land was ripe for harvest.

The trolls were reluctant to move but were also humble and did not want to offend the king by turning down his offer. They packed their homes, loaded their wagons, and left their land of Cowatch behind. Disillusioned, yet optimistic, the trolls underwent a grueling and treacherous journey toward Low Sneeran.

When the trolls arrived at their new home, they found the land of Low Sneeran to be nothing like what the king’s men had promised. The land was barren. The soil was unfit for farming. Upriver from Low Sneeran was a dam that held back the waters of the River of Spectral Dawn. When the trolls realized they had been hoodwinked, there was much discontent among them. Talks of uprising were widespread. This went on for several months, until the trolls made a discovery that brought them more wealth than the king himself had amassed.

The Emeraude Rouge.

The Emeraude Rouge were bright red emeralds—rare, sparkling, and magnificent. The emeralds were exclusive to the caves of Low Sneeran. They could not be found anywhere else in the land of Fabel. From then on, the trolls saw their unjust and untimely relocation as a blessing in disguise. As a nation, the trolls changed their primary export from produce to jewelry. Their occupation went from raising crops to sell in the Imperial Market to unearthing the Emeraude Rouge and selling them to the people of Fabel as the finest of adornment for rings, necklaces, and bracelets.

One day, the dam that bordered Low Sneeran failed. That night, the city of Low Sneeran became flooded. When the waters finally receded, there was no sign of the trolls and the mines were completely barren of the Emeraude Rouge. Many searched but nothing was found until one year later when an archeologist unearthed ten Emeraude Rouge that were completely different from those that anyone had ever seen. These emeralds were larger, brighter, and possessed a uniquely enchanting sparkle.

The ten Emeraude Rouge are now all that is left of the nation of trolls and the city of Low Sneeran.

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1

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

All the king’s horses

And all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again

September 26, 2010, 0900

I shall never forget the first time I laid eyes on January.

She was a slim hare with powdery brown fur and white paws. What she lacked in stature, she made up for in elegance. A white fleece boa decorated her neck, which was complemented by a pearl necklace and matching earrings. She peered at me nervously through a slender pair of glasses—the kind of glasses that are so stylish you wonder if the lenses are even prescription. She fidgeted a great deal as I passed. I gave her a brief glance as I sauntered into my office and shut the door.

I was exhausted. I had just returned from an all-night stakeout in a tree outside the bungalow of an office clerk who had allegedly been selling counterfeit magic beans, which only produced beanstalks that grew to be no larger than the average tree. My client was swindled out of two cows in exchange for a single bean. The transaction was brokered by a third party, who disappeared soon after the exchange. Personally, I felt that the job was a waste of detective work, being that my client was paying me a fee that outweighed the value of what he lost; but it had been a slow month, so I took the case. My efforts paid off a tiresome twelve hours in, at 0700, when the office clerk returned home and was taken into custody. His accomplice is still at large. As far as I am concerned, it is a closed case.

Virgil, my advisor and close friend, entered my office without knocking. He flapped his wings once and shot me a disapproving glare. It was clear that he was disappointed in the inattention that I had just paid to our potential client in the waiting area.

To what do I owe the pleasure of this unannounced visit, Virg? I posed sarcastically.

The young hare outside, that you so callously brushed past, has been awaiting an audience with you since seven this morning. Shall I have her take a number, or will you move her somewhere closer to the top of your busy to-do list?

I checked my watch. It was 0905. Touché, I replied and stood from my chair. Virgil is thirty years my senior and happens to be a sea turtle. By way of some strange genetic mutation, in the last century, the entire population of turtles in the land of Fabel has acquired a pair of wings. These wings retract from within their shells and allow them to travel swiftly through the air. This evolutional adaptation makes up for their slow land speed and sets them apart from their ancestors, who could only win a race with a hare by way of relentless diligence and patience. I tease him almost constantly but see to it that I only carry on so far. Show her in, if you will.

I expected her to hop into my office, as was the gait of every hare I had met to date. Much to my delight, her movement was a smooth and upright stride. She was stoic. She seemed to glide rather than to walk. I showed her to a seat, then took my usual place behind my desk.

Sorry to keep you waiting, I stammered. Her hazel eyes narrowed. She could tell I was insincere. I disregarded her look and went on. May I ask your name?

January, she replied. I need you to investigate a crime. She spoke with such conviction I could tell the matter was not only urgent but personal.

Have you gone to the police?

I have not. They are actually part of the problem. There is so much red tape that—

Stop right there, sweetheart, I cut her off. Politics aren’t my racket. There’s nothing more dangerous than a crooked politician.

I saw tears begin to form at the bottom of her eyes. "Oh, but you just have to help me! she pleaded. You’re the only one I can trust."

How can you be so sure of that? I asked matter-of-factly. You don’t even know me.

"But I know of you, she replied, drying her eyes on a silk handkerchief. You come highly recommended by a bird who works down at the docks. They call him—"

Jim Crow, I cut her off again.

She gave me a surprised look. You know him?

In this business, the first animals you talk to when you’re looking for possible witnesses are the birds and the turtles. No matter what the case, there’s always a bird or a turtle that’s seen something.

"When we spoke, he seemed to regard you as much more than an acquaintance. He literally began singing your praise."

I laughed. Jim and I go way back. You know that’s not his real name, right? She shrugged. He got the nickname a few years back when he hired me to look into a civil rights dispute. Long story.

I see, she said, repositioning herself in the chair. Well, he tells me that if anyone can help me, it’s an iguana PI named Nathan Spade.

I sighed deeply and leaned back in my chair. I guess if Jim sent you all the way out here, I can at least hear you out.

I saw her immediately perk up. She reached into her purse and laid an envelope on my desk. I have reason to believe my uncle was murdered and that all of the king’s men are trying to cover it up.

Those are big accusations. Got any evidence to back those claims?

That’s why I’m hiring you.

I gritted my teeth. I never say it out loud, but I hate it when clients come to me with nothing and expect me to do something with it. They expect me to be able to pull evidence out of thin air. So tell me, who’s your uncle?

She opened the folder and slid a photo in front of me. Humpty Dumpty.

Humpty Dumpty? I repeated in order to be