‘Van, what are you doing down here?’ Dash asked.
‘Max is missing,’ the boy replied. ‘I can’t find him anywhere.’
Kensy grabbed the doorhandle in case someone tried to open it. Unexpectedly, it came away in her hand and fell with a clatter to the floor. ‘Oops!’ she mouthed.
‘Max, is that you?’ Van said, turning the handle from the outside. He opened it to find the boy sitting on the toilet seat, looking dazed. ‘Max,’ Van said, waving a hand in front of the lad’s face.
‘He’s been sleepwalking.’ Dash chuckled. He swung Max over his shoulder. ‘Come on, mate, let’s get you back to bed. And remind me to fix that wretched handle tomorrow, Van.’
As they spun around in the hallway, Max’s eyes fluttered open and looked towards the corner of the ceiling where Kensy had wedged herself between two walls. She was almost in a full splits position, trembling from the effort, and had no idea how much longer she could hold it. When Van closed the door, she landed as softly as she could on the tiles.
Kensy sat on the floor with her back against the wall for the next hour, running through the periodic table of elements over and over in her head in an effort to stay awake. When the clock struck one, Kensy crept along the back hall and was surprised to see Fitz poke his head out of the downstairs guest room to wish her goodnight. She was too tired to do anything but wave. Back upstairs, Kensy stood outside Max and Van’s room. Both boys were snoring. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to tell Max about the message.
‘Finally!’ Kensy exclaimed. ‘I can’t believe we couldn’t even get two minutes on our own the whole time we were away.’ Sparing no detail, the girl explained everything. She pulled the pieces of toilet paper from her pocket and passed them to Max, who had moved into the front passenger seat for the short ride home from where they had just dropped Tinsley and the children in Warung St. Dash had surprised everyone when he said they wouldn’t be heading back until Monday as he had to meet a man about some cattle. Tinsley clearly had no idea about his plans and, given the children had an important choir rehearsal first thing, she didn’t fancy a terse phone call from Mr Thacker or that awful receptionist, Ms Skidmore, if Van and Ellery weren’t there. Fitz had promptly offered them a lift.
‘Is that meant to be a dot?’ Max asked, squinting at the tissue.
Kensy sighed miserably. ‘I think there’s only one word and I have no idea what it means.’
Max fetched a notepad and pen from his daypack and started scribbling. There were a couple of gaps, but it didn’t take him long to work out what the word was meant to be. ‘Kens, of course you know what this means – unless you paid absolutely no attention in our Maori language classes.’
Kensy grabbed the notepad and gasped. ‘Aotearoa! Do you think they could be in New Zealand?’ She stared at the neatly printed letters on the page. ‘How did I not see that?’
Fitz scratched his fake beard. ‘Don’t worry, Kensy – that won’t be the last mistake you make in this business. Your father and I almost missed a target entirely when we were newly minted agents and I mixed up the towns of Dunstaple and Barnstaple. Let’s just hope Anna and Ed get in contact again soon. At least it sounds as though they’re close if they need help.’
‘I suppose.’ Kensy’s heart swelled inside her chest. ‘I miss them so much.’
‘I know you do, sweetheart,’ Fitz said, looking at her in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Did either of you learn anything interesting about the Chalmers while we were there?’
Kensy nodded. ‘Tinsley is lovely and I can’t imagine that she would ever want to do anything to harm her children – even though I would.’
‘You just don’t like the fact that Van has a massive crush on you,’ Max said, ducking away from Kensy’s attempt to jab him in the ribs.
‘I’d like to crush him,’ Kensy said. She realised she’d forgot to mention the farm manager, Nick, and went on to detail her walk with Tinsley. ‘He was unloading a whole lot of boxes, but since when do you need formaldehyde on a farm? Don’t they use that to preserve dead things?’
‘It has many purposes,’ Fitz said, ‘but you might want to look it up.’
‘There were other things too. Aluminium salts and thim-something,’ she said. The name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t quite catch it. ‘Why can’t I have your photographic memory, Max?’
‘You know, Dash lied about what he was doing today,’ Max said. ‘We heard him on the phone last night saying something about biohazard transport boxes and a pick-up at nine o’clock. He said that if they wanted to play hard ball then clearly they had no idea who they were dealing with. And why would they have biohazard boxes at the farm? That’s weird too.’
‘Mmm,’ Fitz said. ‘Given that The Chalmers Corporation HQ is in the city and their Australian factory is located out at Norwest, that does seem strange. Dash certainly hasn’t lost any of his famous Chalmers charm – he had half the mothers at the cricket match swooning all over him yesterday and he was loving every second of it. Did Tinsley mention anything about his assistant, Lucy, being at the match?’
‘No,’ Kensy said. ‘Was she there?’
Fitz nodded. ‘He hopped into the car with her for a little while and they were talking, but unfortunately I was busy attending to a batsman with a nosebleed, so I couldn’t really tell what they were up to.’
Fitz drove into the garage and shut off the engine. Kensy had done a quick scout for Curtis, but this time he was nowhere to be seen. The threesome piled out of the car and grabbed their bags.
‘I think Song’s been busy,’ Max said as he pushed open the door into the house. A mournful country tune filled the air along with the smell of a freshly baked chocolate cake. The butler was singing at the top of his lungs and hadn’t seemed to notice their arrival.
Kensy charged up the stairs into the kitchen, where Song was busy putting the finishing touches to the icing. At the sound of her footsteps, he spun around and threw the spatula at her. Kensy caught it without missing a beat and licked it from top to bottom. ‘Mmm, my favourite.’
‘Good afternoon, Miss Kensington. I’m glad you like it.’ Song turned back to sprinkle hundreds and thousands on top of the cake. ‘How was your sojourn in the countryside?’
‘Strange,’ the girl said, collapsing onto a stool at the island bench. ‘What about you?’
‘I called around to the Chalmers’ residence and had a lovely cup of tea with Rosa. Her adoration of Mr Chalmers is quite unnerving, but the woman can certainly make a mean vanilla slice,’ Song said. He dusted his hands, then turned back to Kensy as Fitz walked into the room to put on the kettle. ‘She informed me that Dash and Tinsley’s marriage is a very happy one and that Mr Chalmers is the best husband in the world.’
‘Yeah right,’ Kensy scoffed. ‘There’s something odd about the whole situation, if you ask me. Cherry Tree Farm is absolutely gorgeous. And there are literally hundreds of photographs of Dash and Tinsley and the children smiling everywhere – in silver frames on sofa tables, on the walls, even in the bathrooms.’
Max appeared, having taken his bag straight upstairs. ‘It made me feel a bit sad about never having had that,’ he said, sitting down beside his sister. ‘I suppose it would have been tricky to cart around loads of pictures when were moving every six months.’
Fitz glanced up from where he was pouring boiling water into the teapot. ‘I’m sorry, Max, I never knew you felt that way.’
Kensy scrunched up her nose. ‘Why would you feel sad? It was totally creepy,’ she said. ‘It’s like they have this veneer of perfection, but scratch the surface and there’s something very weird about that family. Which reminds me – why did they have a photo in their house of Uncle Rupert and a beautiful woman looking as if they’re madly in love?’
Song and Fitz exchanged a meaningful look.
Fitz poured himself a cup of tea and stirred in a splash of milk. ‘I suppose you’ll probably find out one day, so it might as well be now,’ he
said, and took a long sip of his tea. ‘Your uncle was engaged to Dash Chalmers’ sister, Abigail. She was the love of Rupert’s life, but she drowned in an accident before they were married. He never talks about it and you’re not to bring it up either – with anyone, including your grandmother.’
‘That’s awful. Poor Uncle Rupert,’ Kensy said.
‘Wow, that’s horrible,’ Max said, frowning. ‘I’m glad the Chalmers have a photograph of them – there’s nothing more important than family. When Mum and Dad come back, I don’t care wherever we live, I just know I want there to be pictures.’
Mr Thacker sighed loudly. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No, no, no, no, NO! We are not leaving this auditorium until it’s perfect, do you hear me?’
Lucienne whimpered and began to cry in the front row.
‘Oh goodness,’ the headmaster said, passing the girl a tissue. ‘I wasn’t talking to you, my dear. I meant the other children.’ He stepped back to address the rest of the choir. ‘Surely you all understand that the competition is this Saturday!’ he boomed. Little flecks of spit pooled in the corners of his mouth. ‘And where is Dugald?’
‘He went to the toilet ages ago, sir,’ Max piped up.
‘Well, go and find him then,’ the man ordered. ‘And he’d better not be sick or there will be hell to pay!’
Max didn’t relish the idea of dragging the lad out of the bathroom, but he knew better than to argue with the headmaster. The man was seriously obsessed. He’d even had all sporting fixtures cancelled, with the Wentworth Grammar teams forfeiting their matches just so there was no chance of anyone skiving off to sport instead of fronting up for the concert.
Max pushed open the door to the boys’ toilets and heard whispering. He looked along the row of stalls, which were empty but for one pair of thick ankles.
‘I hate it here,’ Dugald snivelled. ‘You never said he’d be so mean.’
Max felt sorry for the lad. On top of being new to the school, Dugald must be buckling under the pressure of carrying the main male solo. Max turned to step outside to give the lad some privacy.
‘Tell my parents I want out. It’s not worth it, no matter how good the pay is,’ the lad said.
Max paused. If Dugald wasn’t talking to his parents, who was he speaking to and what was all that about getting paid? Max’s hopes of hearing anything more were dashed when two lads barrelled in, chatting loudly. He quickly entered the stall beside Dugald’s, but the boy whispered a hurried goodbye and hung up. Max waited until he heard the toilet flush then he did the same and walked out to wash his hands.
‘You okay?’ he asked. ‘Mr Thacker sent me to look for you.’
Dugald groaned. ‘Of course he did,’ he said, patting water on his red face and slicking back his dark hair. ‘Tell him I’ve gone home sick.’
Max frowned. ‘Are you?’
‘What?’
‘Sick?’ Max said.
‘Of him, yes,’ the boy snapped.
Choir practice finally finished at half past one, which left the children with ten minutes to eat lunch before their afternoon lessons commenced. Max had managed to cajole Dugald into returning to the rehearsal, though it was obvious from all the huffing and snorting that the boy wasn’t happy about it. Between Dugald and Lucienne, Mr Thacker had laid on the charm thicker than the mortar on a bricklayer’s trowel.
‘Hey,’ Max said, tapping his sister on the shoulder, ‘there’s something weird going on with Dugald.’
Kensy looked at him quizically with her mouth full of ham-and-cheese sandwich. There was already a dollop of mayonnaise on her tunic.
Curtis leaned over. ‘What are you two talking about?’ he asked.
Max didn’t think it would hurt to include their friend, the amateur sleuth, in the conversation. He and Kensy liked Curtis a lot and the boy was smart too, so he quickly explained what he’d heard in the toilets.
‘We should go and talk to him,’ Curtis suggested. ‘You know, I was thinking it was strange that I’ve never seen him perform with other schools in the choral competition and, come to think of it, I’ve never seen Lucienne either. It’s as if they were both conjured from a land far away.’
‘That doesn’t prove anything,’ Max said. ‘They might have gone to schools that didn’t enter the competition.’
Curtis’s face dropped. ‘It was just an idea.’
Kensy looked at her brother, a wry smile perched on her lips. ‘Okay, Sherlock Holmes, why don’t we see what we can find out?’
Curtis’s chest puffed up and there was a twinkle in his eye. ‘I’d recommend that you let me ask the questions. I know what I’m doing.’
The twins grinned.
‘Clearly,’ Max said. ‘Come on, you’d better have your rapid-fire interrogation tactics ready – the bell’s due to ring in two minutes.’
Kensy was upstairs in her room, working on an assignment on the history of Taronga Zoo, when Max charged through from their adjoining bathroom. She put down her pen and stretched. They’d been training with ninja stars earlier and her hands had been cramping on and off all afternoon. It hadn’t been an entirely successful session, either, with Song making a note to replace two cushions and repair the painting of the harbour bridge in the front room.
‘It’s them,’ Max said, snatching a piece of paper and pen from his sister’s desk. He spotted her watch on the dressing table and rolled his eyes.
Max quickly took down the message and Kensy checked it. At least her Morse code skills had improved over the past few months, even if her watch-wearing habit was still as questionable as ever.
‘What does it say?’ Kensy asked.
Max quickly transcribed the message and stood back.
Send Fitz Friday. QT Dalefield S.I. Love Mum and Dad.
‘Well, that’s not going to happen,’ Kensy said. She grabbed a duffel bag and began shovelling the clothes scattered on her bedroom floor into it. ‘We’re only a few hours away from “SI”. I assume they’re on the South Island, and isn’t Dalefield near Queenstown? There’s nothing there except farms and big beautiful houses. Anyway, we can all go. It’s Wednesday, so, if we leave now, we can get there early and surprise Mum and Dad because they still think we’re in London.’ She stopped and grinned at her brother. ‘Max, we’re going to see Mum and Dad! Can you believe it?’
For one glorious moment, Max allowed himself to be carried away by the juggernaut of his sister’s flight of fancy. Then reality set in. ‘That would be amazing,’ he said gently, ‘but we should talk to Fitz first. We can’t all just abandon the mission.’
‘Ugh, why do you have to be such a party pooper?’ Kensy fell back on her bed with an exasperated sigh.
The front doorbell rang and Song called out to the children. ‘Your friend from next door is here, and he is insisting that he speak to you both right away.’
Kensy sat up on her elbows. ‘I wonder what mind-blowing discovery he’s made now.’
‘We’re coming,’ Max called back. He left the note on Kensy’s desk and headed downstairs with his sister dragging her heels behind him. They found the boy examining the intercom screen in the front foyer.
‘Oh, hi,’ Curtis said, straightening. ‘I’m so glad you’re home. I really need to talk to you – it’s important.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Kensy said sarcastically, earning herself a glare from her brother.
‘Don’t be so mean,’ Max mouthed.
Kensy blushed, wishing she could take back what she’d just said. She liked Curtis and the poor kid suffered enough at the hands of Ellery Chalmers without her being nasty too. She had no right to take her frustrations out on him.
‘Let’s get a drink,’ Max said to Curtis. He led the boy up the short flight of stairs and past the kitchen, spotting a stray ninja star poking out of the wall behind the couch in the family room. How it had made its way from the front lounge room was cause for concern. Max motioned for Curtis to sit down facing the other way, then pointed out the weapon
to Kensy, who quickly dislodged it and tucked it under a cushion.
Curtis planted himself on the chair and leaned in. ‘I saw him,’ he whispered excitedly, his eyes wide.
Song set down three glasses of iced water and a bowl of sweets on the coffee table in front of the children. ‘I’ll be in the laundry if you need me,’ he said.
Kensy tore open a Violet Crumble and took a bite. ‘Curtis, you’re going to have to be more specific. Who did you see?’
‘The man from the ferry whose photos you stole then erased,’ Curtis said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Kensy had completely forgotten about the man and hadn’t even taken a proper look at the pictures she’d transferred to her phone. ‘Hey, it wasn’t just me,’ she pointed out. ‘You helped too.’
Curtis grinned. ‘I suppose I did. So if the police come for us, I promise I won’t let you take the fall on your own.’
‘Where was he?’ Max asked.
Curtis took a deep breath. ‘He drove past in a silver Mazda hatchback – it had a few dents, so he mustn’t be a very good driver. He was heading towards the Chalmers’ place. Don’t worry, I got the numberplate.’ The boy stopped and frowned. ‘But I don’t know any police officers, so it might be hard to run them against a database and I don’t think it would be a good idea to go up to North Sydney Police Station and just ask – they might be suspicious or maybe he’s already reported us for what we did.’
‘I’ll get my phone,’ Kensy said, and bounded away upstairs. When she returned, she and Max sat on either side of the boy as she flicked through the pictures. There were some new photos Kensy had taken on the weekend, but once she got past them, she found the others she’d transferred. There was a photo of Ellery and another of Van and then several of the two of them together walking along the street and on the wharf, as well as a few of Dash leaving the family home in his car.
Kensy swiped back to the next image. It was of a white van and a property gate that looked oddly familiar. She studied it closely then realised what it was. ‘That’s Cherry Tree Farm!’ she gasped.
Undercover Page 14
