The Eye of the Serpent

by Simon Cheshire

  ‘At this point, timing becomes important. People are milling about, there’s a puddle of wine by the office door, he’s got to act quickly. He collars Davina. He’s already had her collecting up empty glasses. He now puts his empty glass on to her tray and tells her to return to the office to fetch more wine for the guests.

  ‘She does as she’s told. Now, I’m sure we’ve all noticed two things: the floor in this room is highly polished, positively shiny; also, Davina’s the sort of person who wears a lot of high-heeled shoes and tends to rush about the place. She hurries over to the office, straight into a puddle of liquid on a shiny floor. An accident waiting to happen? Absolutely.

  ‘Bang. Down goes Davina. Almighty great crash of tray and glasses. What happens next?’

  ‘Well,’ said James, ‘everyone turns to see what’s happened.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Any room full of people would do the same. You turn to look, James, and so do all the other guests. Only for a couple of seconds! But that’s all the distraction that’s needed. Mr Pettibone, and the Mayor, and one or two others, are a couple of metres away from the Eye of the Serpent. The mounted photo is popped on to the alcove the very second that the crash makes everyone turn to look.’

  ‘But where did the photo come from?’ said James. ‘Did he have it stuffed down his trousers or something?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘he had it hidden inside those exhibition catalogues. Those big catalogues. Those catalogues that were far larger than they needed to be. Everyone assumed that the size of the catalogues was just an arty-farty design thing on Mr Pettibone’s part. But no, they had to be large enough to conceal a mounted photo inside.

  ‘And then, just a few seconds after the crash, Mr Pettibone is over by Davina, helping her up. He’s well away from the alcove now. All he’s got to do is wait for someone to spot the “missing” statuette. He knows it won’t take long. He doesn’t know who’ll spot it, but it just happens to be James.

  ‘There’s confusion! What’s happened? People are starting to see that, yes, good grief, that statuette has vanished. Now, Mr Pettibone goes into his panic act. Clear the room, clear the room! He’s GOT to get everyone out of there, before someone looks too closely. He’s running lots of risks this evening but this bit is one of the riskiest. If the photo is spotted, it’s all over. The Eye of the Serpent is tucked away behind it, hidden from view. Mr Pettibone gets Davina and James to usher the guests out.

  ‘Leaving him, and only him, in the exhibition room. As Davina and James and the guests all leave he’s still doing his I’m-so-stunned-I-can-hardly-stand routine. The moment they’re all gone, he whips away the photo and takes the statuette. Then he goes to the office and switches the alarm system back on. By the time Davina returns, and goes to the office herself to call the police, Mr Pettibone is back in position in front of the empty alcove – which is now empty for real – doing his O-woe-is-me thing.

  ‘Mr Pettibone wasn’t the only one who had a chance to switch off the alarms that night. But he was the only one who had a chance to take the statuette. He was the only one who was left alone in that room.’

  ‘Hang on a minute, sonny,’ said Inspector Godalming. ‘Why not, when the crash happens, simply take the statuette from the alcove and pop it into the bag of an accomplice? So then this other person can remove it from the premises and get it safely out of the building when the room is cleared?’

  ‘Yes, I wondered about that too,’ I said. ‘But involving someone else in this scheme would be even more risky. Mr Pettibone was already running a lot of risks as it was, lots of things could have gone wrong. The last thing he wanted to do was risk being blackmailed, or double-crossed by a partner in crime, on top of everything else. He didn’t need an accomplice. He could take the statuette and hide it all by himself. Why complicate matters?’

  ‘This is the most preposterous rubbish I’ve ever heard,’ snarled Mr Pettibone.

  ‘My men searched this place top to toe,’ said Inspector Godalming. ‘Where could the statuette possibly have been hidden?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Davina. ‘The police combed every inch of this building.’

  ‘Not every inch,’ I said. ‘Can we go into the office now?’

  ‘That does it,’ growled Mr Pettibone, ‘I’ve heard enough of this drivel, I’m a busy man, I’m going to —’

  ‘No, let’s see where the lad’s going with this,’ said the Inspector, gently taking Mr Pettibone by the arm.

  We crowded into the office. Once everyone was settled, I stepped across the room and opened the door to the walk-in cupboard beside the desk.

  ‘Take a look in here, Inspector,’ I said. ‘What do you see on the floor?’

  ‘Dust,’ said the Inspector. ‘Nobody’s been in there for a while, obviously.’

  ‘That’s what your men thought, too,’ I said. ‘That’s what I thought. But that’s not dust. That’s a delicate sprinkling of talcum powder. Take a sniff inside. Notice the smell? That floor is another trick to fool the eye!’

  ‘But the statuette isn’t in there,’ said Davina. ‘You can see it’s not.’

  ‘You can’t fully open this door,’ I reminded her. ‘It bumps against the opposite wall. If you wanted to see behind the door you’d have to squeeze into the cupboard, then close the door to look. And you’d still need a flashlight or something.’

  ‘So you could go in there,’ said James, thinking carefully, ‘hide stuff, then sprinkle talc behind you to make it look like the cupboard hadn’t been entered for ages?’

  ‘Yup,’ I nodded. ‘Mind you, it wouldn’t work if someone looked too closely. The talc would smear, you’d see it wasn’t dust after all. But, like the photo, it would fool someone just enough to hide the truth.’

  ‘But why hide anything in there?’ said Davina. ‘Why not quietly remove the statuette from the building? If it’s in the building, it might be found.’

  ‘Because of Phase Two of the thief’s plan,’ I said.

  ‘Which is . . .?’ said James.

  ‘Which is when the statuette gets found “by accident”. And the thief is “discovered”.’ (I put plenty of stress on those inverted commas!)

  ‘Are you saying Mr Pettibone was planning on being found out?’ said James.

  ‘No, no, absolutely not,’ I said. ‘Let me explain Phase Two. Now, Phase Two might have been put into effect that same night, Friday night, if the talcum powder trick hadn’t worked and the police had searched inside the cupboard. But! What Mr Pettibone was hoping – and this is what actually happened – was that the talcum powder trick would work, leaving him free to begin Phase Two at a later date. Possibly a much later date.

  ‘You see, Phase Two is all about . . . how would you put it? Er, finishing the story. Closing the circle, so to speak. The Eye of the Serpent is stolen: this is Phase One. The Eye of the Serpent is recovered, and the thief unmasked: this is Phase Two. Of course, Mr Pettibone wasn’t suddenly going to say ‘Ooh look, here it is, everyone, I’ve found it, panic over!’ Oh no. I can’t be sure who he was intending to frame for the robbery, but my guess is that he was going to make sure Davina took the blame.’

  ‘What?’ spluttered Davina. ‘How?’

  ‘After a while,’ I said, ‘all Mr Pettibone would have to do is take the statuette out of its safe hiding place and put it somewhere it could be “unexpectedly discovered” by someone: your handbag, Davina, maybe, if it was big enough, or a shopping bag, or even somewhere in your home. It wouldn’t be hard for him to find an excuse to call at your house one day, would it? Again, I can’t be sure what was intended, but the end result would be Davina’s arrest for the crime.

  ‘And she’d look pretty guilty. She had the opportunity to disable the alarm; she was clearly under Mr Pettibone’s thumb and had a reason to dislike him; she made no secret of how much she’d love to collect these Art Deco pieces herself; she knew all about the statuette and what it was worth; she was —’

  ‘But what about her alibi?�
�� said James. ‘She was slipping over on that wine!’

  ‘And Mr Pettibone was helping her up when the theft was spotted,’ I said. ‘He appears to have an alibi, too. It would end up as being his word against hers. Who would the police believe? Would they believe Davina when the statuette had just been found amongst her things? I doubt it. Don’t forget, there was likely to be a reward offered for the statuette’s return. It could easily be argued that Davina, knowing the statuette’s owner as she did, had stolen the statuette so she could later pretend to track it down and then claim a load of cash! Mr Pettibone wouldn’t look suspicious on that score – he’s got plenty of his own cash, he’d have no need of reward money. No, Davina could be made to look very guilty indeed!’

  ‘Th-th-that’s awful!’ spluttered Davina. ‘Why would anyone do something like that? Why?’

  ‘These allegations are getting more serious every minute, sonny,’ said Inspector Godalming. ‘You still haven’t explained the reason for the theft in the first place.’

  ‘Quite right,’ I said. ‘The last link in this chain is the motive for the crime. Remember, I said it wasn’t done for money? Well, here’s what it was done for: fame. Publicity.

  ‘A little while ago, I unravelled a crime over at the town’s museum, where James’s dad works. James mentioned to me on Saturday that, since those events had come to light, the number of visitors to the museum had increased enormously. In fact, they’d increased so much that the museum now has late-night opening on a Friday. Right, James?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said James.

  ‘That crime,’ I said, ‘a robbery, appeared in the local papers, as you might expect. But it wasn’t exactly national news. Travel more than a few miles from here and few people will have heard about it. And yet it had a huge effect on that museum.

  ‘So. Imagine what effect a really big news story would have. On, ooh, let’s say, for example, a new art gallery that was just opening. And lo and behold, what happens? Art Treasure Mystery – Police Foxed By Impossible Theft From Gallery! An art treasure which has stories about curses attached to it, no less! An art treasure which is very famous, and which will cause an uproar if it’s lost!

  ‘It was in all the papers yesterday. It’s been on the radio and TV news. It’s been everywhere. And now look outside the office! This gallery is packed out. On a Monday afternoon. Only a day or two after the theft.

  ‘Mr Pettibone has held a press conference. Help us find the stolen statuette! Launch a national search! It was your idea, wasn’t it, Mr Pettibone?’

  ‘Are you daring to suggest that —?’ began Mr Pettibone.

  ‘Let the lad finish,’ cut in the Inspector.

  ‘For some years now,’ I said, ‘Mr Pettibone has been struggling to make a success of things. Which is very unfortunate. Nobody could possibly blame him for wanting to make this new gallery a hit. I’m sure we can understand the dreadful pressure he felt he was under. After all, if this place had turned out to be a flop, he’d have been finished in the art world.

  ‘So he needed to make certain that the gallery got publicity, a lot of it, and became famous. He came up with a plan: a daring, apparently impossible robbery, followed by a national search, followed by the unmasking of his evil, dastardly assistant as the thief. It would all keep this place in the papers for days. Maybe weeks. Maybe even months, if he could string it out that long.

  ‘And afterwards, people would flock here! People would organise coach trips just to come and get a look at this infamous, notorious, cursed piece of art! The Eye of the Serpent! Now returned to its place in the gallery, safe and sound, ladies and gentlemen.’

  ‘Poppycock, balderdash, rubbish,’ snarled Mr Pettibone. ‘You have no shred of evidence, not a shred.’

  ‘I promised you all that I’d produce the Eye of the Serpent for you,’ I said, a sudden shudder of nerves sliding icily down my spine. ‘If I’m right, if what I’ve told you is the truth, then the statuette is sitting exactly where I said it would be. It’s behind the door of that walk-in cupboard, undisturbed since talcum powder was sprinkled on the floor in there, to put us off the . . . er, scent. Inspector? Would you do the honours?’

  Inspector Godalming shot a look at me which said a heck of a lot, beginning with, ‘If you’re wrong . . .’ and ending with ‘. . . you’ll be in big trouble, sonny.’

  He opened the cupboard door and squashed his way inside. The talc on the floor was kicked up into a sweet-smelling cloud. For several seconds, the policeman bumped around in the dark, then emerged red-faced.

  I couldn’t see if he was carrying anything or not.

  I held my breath. Was it there?

  He held out his hand. Clutched in it was a sinewy, curling black object. He handed it to me.

  It was surprisingly heavy. It had a smooth base, up from which flowed a coiling, curving shape. At the top was a large, ugly head, its mouth gaping, a single red jewel shining at its side.

  ‘Eurgh, creepy, isn’t it?’ I muttered.

  ‘The Eye of the Serpent,’ gasped Davina. For a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears. I hurriedly handed it over to her.

  ‘Here. I think you know where this should go,’ I said.

  Mr Pettibone was standing still and his face had gone very pale. Inspector Godalming turned to him.

  ‘Mr Pettibone, I’d like you to accompany me to the police station,’ said the Inspector. ‘I believe you may be able to help us with our enquiries.’

  He led Mr Pettibone towards the office door. The gallery manager was silent and slumped as he removed his orange spectacles and folded them up into his top pocket.

  The Inspector turned to me. ‘Well done, lad. Er, obviously my men were, umm, about to come to the same conclusion. All that stuff about international criminal gangs was, er, just a smoke-screen, a cover-up, a way of putting Pettibone off-guard, y’see.’

  ‘I see,’ I said, nodding wisely. ‘A brilliant trick it was, too. I never suspected a thing.’

  Inspector Godalming nodded cheerfully at me and led Mr Pettibone away.

  The next thing I knew, Davina was hugging me! Eugh, geroff! Too late, she’d planted a big wet smacker of a kiss on my cheek. ‘Saxby, you’re a marvel!’ she gasped. ‘If it wasn’t for you I could have ended up in prison!’

  ‘All in a day’s work,’ I mumbled. ‘I’ll be off home now.’

  James and I made our way through the visitor-choked gallery and back out on to the street.

  ‘I suppose Mr Pettibone got the idea after my dad had told him all about how well the museum was doing,’ said James.

  ‘Could be,’ I said. ‘Ah! I see now why Mr Pettibone didn’t want me around!’

  ‘Oh yeah, I get it,’ said James. ‘Dad must have told him about you, too. So naturally he didn’t want you poking your nose in!’

  ‘It’s ironic, really,’ I said. ‘Mr Pettibone will get his wish. There’ll be massive publicity over this, but for all the wrong reasons. Respected Expert is Art Thief, that’s what the papers will say. Or maybe Police Foil Art Crime.’

  ‘But you should take the credit!’ said James. ‘You solved the crime!’

  ‘Nooooo,’ I declared. ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I don’t do this job for applause, I do it to see truth and justice prevail.’

  ‘Oh yes, I can see that,’ said James. ‘Otherwise you’d obviously have waited to reveal your findings. Until that Vladimir Dubrovnik bloke went ahead and offered that huge reward for the statuette’s return. Obviously.’

  Oh bum.

  ‘Obviously, yes,’ I said, feeling a bit weak and feeble. ‘The work is its own reward.’

  ‘Wow,’ said James. ‘That’s positively heroic.’

  ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ I agreed.

  ‘By the way, did you know your cheek’s covered in lipstick?’

  I just about had it wiped away by the time I got home. It left a bright red stripe across my sleeve.

  I hurried to my shed, eager to w
rite up some notes on the case. I swung the door open to find my desk buried under a pile of gardening equipment and DIY stuff. I sighed. I’d forgotten about that.

  Double bum.

  Case closed.

  CASE FILE FOURTEEN

  THE STRANGER IN THE MIRROR

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  I ONCE TACKLED A CASE IN which the most vital piece of evidence was to be found by examining the cover of an old hardback book, the Colin the Hedgehog Annual 1997: the villain had written a note on a piece of paper and had used the book to lean on. The pressing of the pen had gone through and left a faint indentation on the book cover, proving that the note was written in a particular place.

  There was another case in which I would never have identified the bad guy if he hadn’t – totally by chance – borrowed the same book from the school library as I had. There was a page marked in the book which I wouldn’t have discovered without that one-in-a-million coincidence.

  What I’m getting at is this: sometimes, crimes can be solved (or even carried out) because of the tiniest little details. The Stranger in the Mirror – a straightforward problem in many ways – was an interesting one because nobody could have predicted the series of events and coincidences around which the whole case revolved.

  It began the day I came up with yet another idea in my battle to reorganise the garden shed. As you may have read in some of my earlier case files, I was determined to make more room for my detective kit in amongst the gardening and DIY stuff I’m forced to share that shed with. I was having about as much success as an ant trying to force a ten-ton weight up a waterfall backwards.

  And then I thought: A-ha, why not simply push all the boxes and flowerpots and paint tins to the back of the shed? This will leave enough space for my desk, my files and my Thinking Chair, and possibly even that pacing-up-and-down area I wanted, too!