Sherlock Sam and the Fiendish Mastermind in Jurong

by A. J. Low

  Copyright © 2015 by Adan Jimenez and Felicia Low-Jimenez

  Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Epigram Books

  All rights reserved.

  Published in Singapore by Epigram Books.

  www.epigrambooks.sg

  Illustrations by Drewscape

  Book layout by Yong Wen Yeu

  Published with the support of

  National Library Board, Singapore

  Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Low, A. J., author.

  Sherlock Sam and the fiendish mastermind in Jurong /

  by A.J. Low; illustrated by Drewscape.

  – Singapore : Epigram Books, 2015.

  pages cm

  ISBN : 978-981-4615-67-9 (paperback)

  ISBN : 978-981-4615-66-2 (eBook)

  1. Child detectives – Juvenile fiction.

  2. Singapore – Juvenile fiction.

  I. Drewscape, illustrator II. Title.

  PZ7

  S823 -- dc23 OCN900626285

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition

  To amazing author Ovidia Yu,

  for reminding us how awesome

  Mom is, and to Mr David Caddy’s

  sixth grade class at St. Michael’s

  Catholic Primary School in Perth

  for helping us figure out why

  Watson is so grumpy

  Outside the school’s main gate, I stared at Watson’s hand lying in the box and tried to think. It was incredibly difficult because Wendy, Jimmy, Nazhar and even Eliza were all frantically asking me what we should do. Dad was on the phone with Mom and he was gesturing in an agitated manner. He had called her because Watson was family and he knew Mom would want to be informed as quickly as possible.

  Both Mom and Dad had taught me to stand up for what I believed was right and that was exactly what I was going to do. I couldn’t believe that James would actually harm my robot. It seemed to cross the line— even for someone like him. I knew he was up to something, but I did not think he would deliberately hurt Watson!

  “What are we going to do, Sam?” Wendy asked for the millionth time. She was clutching on to her skirt so tightly that she made more creases in her already wrinkled uniform.

  “I didn’t know, Samuel,” Eliza said, her eyes bright with tears and her fists clenched at her sides. “I really didn’t know James was going to do this. You have to believe me.”

  “We’ve got to save Watson, Sherlock!” Jimmy cried. “WE HAVE TO!”

  “Maybe we should let Sherlock think, guys,” Nazhar said. He looked worried and kept pushing his glasses up on his face.

  “Sam, Mom’s taking a taxi over right now,” Dad said as he shoved his handphone into his pocket and ran his hand through his messy hair. He looked at the box and gently tried to pry it away from me. “Maybe I should hold on to this for now, okay, Sam?”

  I released my death grip on the box and looked at Dad. I was finding it difficult to speak. I knew I needed to do something, to say something, but it felt like my brain was all fuzzy.

  “Sam, you look like you’re going to throw up,” Wendy said. “Maybe you should sit down. Mom will be here soon.”

  Mom had always been Watson’s staunchest defender.

  “How much longer do you think we have to wait, Dad?” I asked, impatiently tapping my foot.

  Dad, Mom, Wendy, Watson and I had been in the queue for a newly opened fusion restaurant for more than forty-five minutes and we were finally the next in line. I had heard that they served the most incredible lamb shank in mint sauce and my mouth was starting to water just thinking about it.

  “We’re next, Sam,” Dad replied. “It shouldn’t be too long. I can’t wait! I’m sooo hungry I’m going to pass out.” He mimed fainting dramatically, causing Mom to laugh.

  “I-see-where-you-get-it-from-Sherlock,” Watson said, looking at me with his single eye.

  “I really don’t know why they don’t take reservations,” Mom said, sighing. I knew Mom hated waiting in line for anything. She would always go to the hawker stall with the shortest queue, but she had agreed to come with us because she knew how badly we wanted to try the delicious food here.

  “It’s because they want people to see that they have a long queue in front of their restaurant, Mom,” I said. “For a new restaurant, that’ll give them a lot of attention.” I had tons of free time on my hands while we were waiting, so I had decided to practise my skills of observation and deduction. A good detective should never rest on his laurels. Also, I was bored out of my mind. Watson refused to play tic-tac-toe with me after I had tried to explain to him the probability of winning three times in a row. I felt it was only fair that he knew who he was up against. My classmates (well, mainly Jimmy) didn’t call me the tic-tac-toe king for nothing.

  “Next!” the hostess suddenly called out. She was dressed in a fancy-looking black dress and high heels, and she was frowning. I wanted to tell her that she might feel less grumpy if she had put on sensible shoes. Her job seemed to require a lot of standing and high heels were really not suitable.

  “Oh yay!” Wendy said, clapping her hands. She pulled Watson along as she dashed forward. We eagerly gathered around the lady in black.

  “Table for four, yes?” the hostess said, peering at us over her wire-framed glasses.

  “Five, please,” Mom replied, smiling.

  “I count four people,” the hostess answered back in a chilly tone.

  “There are five of us,” Mom insisted. She had stopped smiling.

  “I am afraid I cannot seat that...metal object,” the hostess said. “I assume that it doesn’t consume actual food? We cannot afford to waste a seat on it. As you can tell, our restaurant is extremely popular and crowded.”

  “Watson isn’t an it!” Wendy exclaimed, glaring at the hostess. She was still holding on to Watson’s arm. I could hear Watson’s circuits crackle fiercely.

  “Yeah! He’s my robot and my friend!” I added. “Right, Dad? Mom?”

  “That’s right, son,” Dad said. “Please seat us at a table for five, miss. All you need to do is add an extra chair.”

  “I’m afraid that our tables are only for guests who consume actual food, sir,” the hostess replied, in the same frosty tone. “That thing...it can wait outside if it must.”

  Mom stepped up to the hostess and looked her straight in the eye. “Watson is family. And in this family, we only eat in places where all of us are welcome.” Turning smartly, she continued, “Come on, dear, kids. Let’s go. I’ve lost my appetite for the food here. I hear they overcook their lamb anyway.”

  No one messes with my mom.

  “And I have the Internet and I’m not afraid to use it for reviews!” I called back to the sputtering hostess.

  “I-could-have-waited-for-everyone-in-the-car,” Watson said, as we headed towards the parking lot. “I-am-able-to-consume-my-batteries-anywhere. I-did-not-need-to-watch-Sherlock-eat-more-food. I-have-had-a-lot-of-chances-already.”

  We had reached our parked Space Wagon. Mom stopped walking and crouched down in front of my robot. She gently put her hands on his metal shoulders. “I meant what I said, Watson. You’re family and I will never, ever let anyone bully anyone in our family. That lady had no right to be nasty to you just because you are different.”

  “Wait-a-minute-please. Why-did-I-have-to-travel-as-luggage-to-Penang?” Watson asked.

  Mom grimaced. “That was a safety regul
ation. But next time, we’re going to get you a seat even if you have to spend the entire flight with your power turned off, okay?”

  Watson’s entire body flushed a bright pink that made Wendy giggle. I looked at Mom and beamed. She ruffled my hair and grinned back.

  “What do you guys say we head to our usual Bedok Corner Food Centre?” Dad asked. “We can get the world-famous cheng ting for dessert!”

  We all cheered—except Watson, of course, because Watson never cheered. But I was certain I saw a bright gleam in his one eye as we got into the car.

  “Wait, does this mean Watson’s full name is Watson Tan?” Wendy asked.

  “Mom! Watson is going to need a Chinese name too!” I said.

  “What-is-the-Chinese-word-for-handsome?” Watson asked.

  “I know! It’s...er...wait...” Wendy squinted as she tried to remember. My big sister’s Chinese wasn’t all that fantastic.

  “I named Watson, you know,” Dad said, nodding proudly.

  “What? Only by accident!” I cried out. “Watson was supposed to be MEGA-TECHNO- DESTRO-BOT!”

  Dad grinned.

  “I-like-Wat-son-Tan-better,” Watson replied.

  “I like Watson Tan better too,” Mom said, turning to look at the three of us in the back seat. There was a smile on her face.

  Mom was right. We were a family and no one was ever going to tell us differently.

  Then Eliza’s phone rang, startling everyone. It was the familiar My Little Pony tune. She stared at her phone, then looked up at me.

  I knew it was James.

  I quickly grabbed Eliza’s phone out of her hand. I was sure I would see “James Mok”—or “Jake’s Mom”, the anagram that Eliza had used to hide the fact that it was my arch-nemesis— on the phone screen. But when I looked at it, there was a photo of James sleeping under a large palm leaf and drooling.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “James and I went camping with our parents once, and I have a bunch of photos of him like this,” Eliza said. “What should I do about the call?”

  “Pick it up,” I coldly instructed Eliza, holding out her phone.

  “Sam,” Dad said. “I think you need to calm down—”

  “She needs to pick it up, Dad,” I insisted.

  “He’s...he’s right, Uncle,” Eliza replied, her face pale. “It might be the only way to get Watson back.”

  “Wait,” I said, stopping her from accepting the call. “Put it on speaker, Eliza.”

  I saw a flash of hurt in her eyes, but she immediately did as I asked. We crowded around her.

  “H-hello?” Eliza said. Her hand that was holding the phone aloft trembled. Wendy put her hand on Eliza’s arm and steadied her. Eliza took a deep breath.

  “Hello, Sherlock,” the voice said. “I’ll just address you since I know Eliza is using the speaker function. I’m not surprised. You don’t trust her any more, after all.”

  Eliza looked down at her shoes.

  “Where’s Watson?” I asked through gritted teeth. I felt like shouting at James, but I knew that was the reaction he wanted from me and I refused to give him the satisfaction.

  “James, this is Samuel’s dad,” Dad said, leaning closer to the phone. “What you’ve done is very serious and I’m going to call your parents immediately. Once I’ve informed them of what you’ve done—”

  “Hello, Mr Tan,” James’s smooth voice replied. “I cannot stop you from calling them, but please note the mobile phone reception in Papua New Guinea is quite terrible. My parents were in Port Moresby for business meetings, securing contracts for their shipping company. But they’re now on a trek in some remote jungle on the island. Every time my mother tries to call, we get cut off.”

  “You’re lying!” Jimmy shouted into the phone. Dad put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and shook his head. I think Dad had finally realised exactly the kind of boy James was and the depths he would go to get his way. It was pointless to try to reason with James, or argue with him.

  James laughed. “You can try to call, Jimmy. I certainly wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

  “Where’s Watson?” I repeated, still trying to sound calm even though my tummy was clenched tight. “If you’ve hurt him again—” I had to stop myself from grabbing the phone out of Eliza’s hand and yelling at James to give me back my robot.

  “I haven’t hurt your precious robot, Sherlock,” James continued. “In fact, it handed me its own hand.” He chuckled when he said that. I restrained myself from pointing out what a terrible pun that was.

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “Watson would never do that!”

  “And stop calling Watson an ‘it’!” Wendy shouted into the phone. “He’s my other irritating little brother and no one gets to bully him except me!”

  Eliza took hold of Wendy’s left hand and squeezed it tightly.

  James ignored us both. “If you want to find your robot, changed as he may be, you will play my game.”

  “What do you mean?” Nazhar asked.

  “I’m not playing any games, James,” I spat out. “Tell us where he is.” I was trying to take slow, deep breaths, but I wasn’t exactly successful.

  “My game, my rules, Sherlock,” James replied. “You will only get the information I want you to get, when I want you to get it. And right now, all you get is this: walk forward until I tell you to stop.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Walk. Forward. Until. I. Tell. You. To. Stop.”

  I looked around wildly. James was watching us from somewhere! Maybe from behind the bushes or in a car.

  “Stop looking around, Sherlock, and do as I say,” James said over the phone. “You’ll never find me anyway, and the more you try to look for me, the more time you will waste, and the more pieces of your robot I will take.”

  I gritted my teeth and walked forward. Everybody followed me.

  “Stop,” James said. “Now turn 90 degrees to your left, and walk 30 paces.”

  I turned and was about to take a step when he said, “Stop.”

  “You told me to take 30 paces,” I said. “I haven’t taken any yet.”

  “I know, but you’re shorter than me,” James said. “You’ll need to take 39 paces.”

  I walked 39 paces and stopped. We were back inside the school, in the canteen.

  “Look under the seat on your left,” James said. I felt around underneath the seat and found a piece of paper taped down.

  “Yes, that’s it,” James said. “Pull it out.”

  I looked around again. There was nowhere he could hide here and still see us. Or at least I thought that was the case. I was pretty worried about Watson and wasn’t in the mood to play games.

  I pulled out the paper and unfolded it. There was a note inside:

  When I had finished reading, James said, “Catch me if you can, Sherlock. And remember, the clock’s ticking.”

  The line went dead. The game was afoot!

  “How can he be watching us?” Wendy asked. “There’s nowhere for him to hide.”

  I was glad Wendy was thinking the same thing I was.

  “He’s clearly around here somewhere,” Dad said. “But we shouldn’t focus on that. Not yet, at least.”

  “Is that a...a poem?” Nazhar asked. “But some of it doesn’t even rhyme.”

  “It’s a riddle,” I said. “He wants us to solve his riddle.”

  “And then we’ll find Watson, right?” Jimmy asked, wringing his hands.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “I’m sure this is just the first of many riddles that James’s fiendish mind has cooked up, and we’ll have to solve them all to get Watson back.”

  “Sam, I think your first instinct is right; we shouldn’t play his game,” Dad said. “I’m going to call Officer Siva and inform him that Watson’s been kidnapped.”

  “You can’t, Dad,” I said. “At least, not yet.”

  “Why not, Sherlock?” Wendy asked. “He could get the entire Singapore Police Force
involved in the search.”

  “He could, yes, but he would also keep us out of it,” I said. “Remember how he wouldn’t let us help when we thought James was missing? No, Officer Siva is a police officer, and there are important rules he has to follow.”

  “Don’t we have to follow the rules too?” Nazhar asked.

  “No,” I said, looking up at Dad. “We’re like Batman, and Batman can go where the police cannot.”

  I could see Dad thinking it over. He thought about it for a long time, first lifting one eyebrow, then the other, as if they were arguing. Finally, he said, “Okay, but only until I say otherwise, Sam. Then I will call Officer Siva and there will be no arguments.”

  “Agreed, Dad,” I said, “and thank you.” Dad had only recently let us investigate mysteries again, and I wasn’t about to betray his trust.

  “Okay, Supper Club, let’s solve this riddle!” I said. I held out the riddle for all to see, and Eliza looked in as well. I immediately pulled the note away. “I’m sorry, Eliza, but you’re not a part of the Supper Club,” I said. “Please leave us alone to look for Watson.” There was no way I was going to let her anywhere near this case.

  Eliza’s hand dropped along with her head. “I just want to help, Samuel, but I understand.”

  She started to walk away when Wendy said, “Look, Cher Lock—”

  “SHERLOCK!”

  “Look, CHER LOCK,” she said again. “Watson’s my brother too, I’m the oldest, and I say we need all the help we can get.”

  “Wendy’s right,” Nazhar said. “And Eliza has skills the rest of us don’t.”

  I hated to admit it, but Nazhar was right. I had made so many mistakes in my dealings with James because I had let my emotions get the better of me.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Oh, thank you, Samuel!” Eliza said, her eyes wide.

  “But!” I cut her off. “But the second I think you’re up to no good, we will leave you behind.”

  “Yes, totally,” Eliza said. She hugged Wendy, then Nazhar, making him blush, and then Jimmy. She even hugged Dad and me, though I didn’t hug back.

  “Okay, everybody, what does this riddle mean?” We all crowded around the note, reading the riddle again.