Work Text:
Hec Ramsey did not believe in ghosts.
He believed in footprints, powder burns, broken locks, bad lies, and men who thought darkness made them invisible.
He was less certain what to believe about Wallace.
The Englishman had arrived in New Prospect with a mechanical moon.
Not a model.
Not exactly.
It was a large silver sphere mounted on a wheeled frame, designed to illuminate streets at night using mirrors and gas lamps.
“A portable moon,” Wallace explained.
Hec chewed thoughtfully on an unlit cigar.
“Why?”
“Well, it gets dark.”
Hec looked at Gromit.
Gromit looked back.
Hec nodded.
They understood one another.
The trouble began when old Amos Bell reported seeing a glowing figure walking through the cemetery.
Then Mrs. Carver saw it near the bank.
Then the night watchman vanished.
By morning, half the town believed a ghost was haunting New Prospect.
Hec did not.
Gromit did not.
Wallace was undecided.
“I’m open-minded.”
Gromit handed him a sheet.
On it he had drawn a man under a bedsheet.
Wallace nodded.
“Could be.”
Hec examined the cemetery.
There were boot prints behind the chapel.
A scrape on the stone wall.
A smear of white phosphorescent paint.
And, inexplicably, a crumb of cheese.
Hec picked it up.
Wallace gasped.
“Lancashire!”
“You can tell?”
“Of course.”
Hec looked at Gromit.
Gromit shrugged.
The missing watchman was found alive in a storage shed. He had been struck from behind after seeing two men moving crates near the bank.
Hec reconstructed the scheme.
The “ghost” was being used to frighten townspeople indoors while thieves tunneled into the bank from an abandoned undertaker’s cellar.
The portable moon had given them another idea.
They stole it.
Wallace was devastated.
“My moon!”
Hec mounted his horse.
“We’ll get it back.”
Gromit climbed into the saddle behind him.
Wallace stared.
“Where do I sit?”
Hec pointed toward a wagon.
Wallace sighed.
The thieves took the moon to the cemetery and mounted it above the chapel, using its mirrors to project a huge glowing shape across the graves.
People fled.
Hec rode straight in.
Wallace followed in the wagon.
Gromit disappeared among the tombstones.
The fake ghost rose against the night sky.
Wallace swallowed.
“Very convincing.”
Hec dismounted.
“Too convincing.”
He pointed.
The ghost’s left arm moved before the man controlling the mirror pulled the lever.
“Second projector,” Hec said.
Gromit had already found it.
He crawled behind the chapel and discovered the thieves’ tunnel entrance.
Inside were bank bags, tools, lanterns, and three men.
Gromit picked up a shovel.
The men stared.
Gromit stared back.
One reached for a gun.
Gromit struck the lantern hook.
Darkness.
Crash.
Thump.
Yelp.
When Hec arrived, all three men were tied together with rope.
Gromit was reading the bank ledger.
Hec smiled.
“Good work.”
Outside, the gang leader, Silas Ward, seized Wallace.
“Stay back!”
Hec stopped.
Ward held a pistol to Wallace’s head.
Wallace raised his hands.
“Steady on.”
Gromit emerged from the tunnel.
Ward did not see him.
Hec did.
So did Wallace.
Wallace’s eyes flicked toward the portable moon.
Gromit understood.
He pulled the release lever.
The moon rolled downhill.
Ward heard the rumble.
He turned.
A six-foot silver sphere rolled toward him.
He dropped the gun.
Wallace ducked.
Ward ran.
The moon chased him through the cemetery, bounced off a headstone, crossed the road, and crashed into a hay wagon.
Hec picked up the gun.
“Case closed.”
Wallace looked at the wrecked machine.
“My moon.”
Gromit patted his arm.
Back in town, Hec explained the evidence to the sheriff: the paint, the footprints, the tunnel, the stolen moon, the cheese crumb.
The sheriff frowned.
“What about the cheese?”
Wallace raised a finger.
“Ah! That was mine.”
Everyone looked at him.
“I may have dropped it while investigating.”
Hec stared.
“So it had nothing to do with the case.”
“Apparently not.”
Hec sighed.
Gromit quietly offered him a cracker.
Hec took it.
“You know, dog, detective work used to be simpler.”
Gromit nodded.
Across the street, Wallace unveiled his newest invention.
A mechanical sheriff’s badge spun rapidly and fired a whistle into the air.
Hec closed his eyes.
“Used to be.”