Chapter One
Do Drop In
"What a beautiful morning for watchmaking!" thought Hermux
Tantamoq as he unlocked the door to his shop. There was something
delicious in the air. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed. His
whiskers twitched. He took a deep breath.
"Ripe apples," he said. "Now that's a nice smell!"
He sniffed again. Hermux was a mouse who appreciated a
good meal. A nice, plump red apple might be just the thing for
lunch. With a thick slice of cheddar cheese. And a crusty piece
of bread. What a pleasant thought! He raised the shade and
switched on the lights. He put a sign out on the front counter
that said, I'm back in the workshop. Please ring the bell!
He took off his emerald green woolly coat with the bumblebee
buttons and hung it on a hook. Then he rolled up his sleeves
and went to work.
Hermux got Clenton Yooger's big pocket watch down from
the work shelf. All it needed was a good cleaning. He fitted his
magnifying loupe to his right eye and opened the heavy gold
case. First he removed the winding stem. Then he inserted a
tiny pair of tweezers to release the main spring, which, as everyone
knows, is the very most ticklish part of watchmaking. That's
when someone slapped him on the back.
"Tantamoq!" a shrill voice boomed in his ear.
Clenton Yooger's main spring sprang from his watch, skittered
across the workbench, ricocheted off the tool rack, and
disappeared onto the floor.
"Say! You're not Tantamoq!"
"I am too!" said Hermux.
"Tantamoq is older. He's my age!"
Hermux rubbed his eyes and studied his surprise visitor. It
was an old chipmunk. He was bit taller than Hermux, as you
might expect, but so skinny that he couldn't have weighed much
more than a mouse. He was wearing a faded, rusty-colored corduroy
jacket with patches on the elbows. And the shoulders.
And the lapels. And the cuffs. Some of the patches even had
patches.
Hermux thought chipmunks were a clownish lot in general.
But this one looked particularly odd to him. There was even
something sort of lopsided about his head. Hermux smiled to
himself. Then he noticed that the old chipmunk was missing an
ear. It was completely gone. Like someone had snipped it off
with a pair of scissors. Hermux winced. "Owl" he thought.
"That must have hurt!"
"I am Tantamoq!" Hermux told the old chipmunk. "Hermux
Tantamoq." He extended his paw. "You must be looking for
my father, Linnix. This was his shop. I took it over when he retired."
"Of course," said the old chipmunk. "Your father. He's the
one I want to see! Where can I find him? I want to see him right
away."
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible." Hermux stopped. "My
father passed away several years ago."
"Linnix!" sighed the old chipmunk. "I didn't know. I'm so
sorry." Suddenly he seemed confused and uncertain.
"Well, maybe I can help you," said Hermux.
"I doubt it!" said the old chipmunk, shaking his head violently.
"I must be cursed! I need a watchmaker with a solid grasp
of history. Not a beginner."
"I'm not a beginner, and I'm very interested in history," argued
Hermux. "Just this summer I did a walking history tour of
South Glemmon. I visited the very factory where the first twisty
watchband was invented. Ask me anything about watches."
"I need somebody who understands mechanics. Who knows
how to put pieces together and figure things out. Someone who's
not afraid of complications."
"Well, that's me in a nutshell!" said Hermux. "I am certified
to repair cuckoo clocks of all sorts. Even the great antiques from
Grebbenland. And they are really complicated, I can tell you
that for sure!"
"This involves more than clocks and watches, my boy! I
need somebody with heart."
Hermux recalled the image of a bold young mouse standing
before her gleaming silver airplane. It was Linka Perflinger, the
renowned adventuress and aviatrix that he had met in the spring
of that year. Hermux had nearly lost his life rescuing Ms. Perflinger
from the clutches of a sinister plastic surgeon, Dr. Hiril
Mennus. In the process he had lost his heart to the dashing Linka.
But in the end she had chosen someone else.
"I have heart," he said ruefully.
"The point is that I need somebody just like your father."
"I'm a lot like my father," said Hermux. He glanced up at the
photograph over his workbench. It was a smiling picture of Linnix
Tantamoq at the National Convention of Watchmakers. He
had just been named Watchmaker of the Year. Hermux drew
himself up. "Like my father," he said proudly, "I'm not afraid of
complicated problems. And I can solve them under pressure.
Perhaps you heard about my involvement in the Perflinger
case?"
"No. Why would I?"
"Why, it was in all the papers! Earlier this year. My picture
was printed several times. Along with Ms. Perflinger and Tucka
Mertslin and Ortolina Perriflot! You can't say you didn't hear
something about it. Hiril Mennus? The Beauty Doc Murders?
Where have you been?"
"I've been working! In the field! I don't have time to waste
reading newspapers! And I couldn't get them if I did!"
"What do you do?" asked Hermux.
The old chipmunk jerked back suddenly and narrowed his
eyes. His one ear cocked and alert.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously.
"Well, it sounds like you've got a problem. An interesting
one. And I'd like to hear about it. What can I do to help you?"
"You can start by helping me get this off," the old chipmunk
grumbled. He pointed to the tattered knapsack on his back.
"Boy, this is heavy," said Hermux, wrestling it onto the
workbench. "What's in it?" He started to unbuckle it.
"Hey!" snapped the old chipmunk. "Keep your hands off!
I'll do that!" He pushed Hermux away.
Hermux watched his irritable visitor rummage about in his knapsack.
Time had certainly not been kind to the old guy. He
looked run-down and run over. From his patched jacket to his
threadbare pants and his dusty, scuffed boots. His fur was thin
and lifeless. His paws were nicked and scarred. And then there
was the missing ear. How had that happened? He certainly
didn't look like any friend of his father's that Hermux had ever
met. And Hermux couldn't quite picture his father being good
friends with a chipmunk to begin with.
The old chipmunk interrupted his thoughts.
"If you'll have some patience for an old man's cautious nature,"
he said, "I've got something very interesting to show you.
It's a very puzzling object that I acquired recently. It raises
several questions about history. Questions that would have interested
an intelligent, imaginative watchmaker like your father.
Maybe they will interest you."
A noisy clanging in the front of the shop interrupted him.
Copyright © 2002 by Michael Hoeye