The Mystery of the Squashed Cockroach

by R. A. Spratt

  Dad raised his trowel and started slowly and silently to make his way towards the bottom. He had started shaking again. If James Bond put a cocktail shaker in his hands, he would have had a perfect martini, shaken not stirred.

  The bottom quivered as Dad approached it. The intruder was clearly doing something energetic with the front half of their body. Dad had to put a stop to it. He knew he would never really have the courage to hit someone with a trowel, so he threw that down on the grass and ran at the intruder instead. He might not be physically fit or capable, but he was slightly podgy, and the sheer enormity of his bulk ought to do some damage. He hurled himself through the air at the bottom and crash-tackled the intruder headfirst into the bushes.

  ‘Aaaggghh!’ screamed the intruder.

  ‘Ow!’ wailed Dad, as whoever it was punched him in the face.

  ‘Vad gör du!’

  They both struggled to their feet and Dad finally got to see the identity of his assailant. She was tall, beautiful and blonde.

  ‘Ingrid?’ asked Dad. Ingrid had lived next door for nearly two years, but Dad still couldn’t be entirely sure this was her because he never made eye contact with attractive women if he could at all avoid it. He didn’t make eye contact with unattractive women either, but he was particularly afraid of attractive ones. That’s probably where Joe got it from.

  Ingrid was holding a shovel and breathing heavily. She looked a little dishevelled from being thrust headfirst into a shrub, but that only enhanced her terrifying Nordic athleticism.

  ‘Ja,’ said Ingrid, which even Dad could interpret was ‘yes’.

  ‘What are you doing in my garden?’ he asked. ‘I know Loretta likes to come over and wreck things but really, I don’t think it’s fair for you to do the same as well.’

  Ingrid stared at Dad for a long moment. She seemed to be trying to make a decision. Dad hoped it wasn’t to hit him over the head with the shovel. Then he had a nasty thought. ‘Y-You’re not … Kolektiv, are you?’ He actually whimpered at the idea. ‘What am I asking you for?’ he added, more talking to himself. ‘You only speak Swedish. If you are Kolektiv, I should just run.’ He took a step backwards.

  Ingrid sighed and dropped the shovel. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, holding up her hands in a non-threatening gesture. ‘I just needed to hide something. I’m sorry. I couldn’t let her find it. I thought it would be better to hide it over here.’

  ‘You speak English!’ exclaimed Dad.

  Ingrid rolled her eyes. ‘Everyone in Sweden speaks English.’

  ‘Then why did you let everyone believe that you can’t?’ asked Dad.

  ‘People in this country talk too much,’ said Ingrid. ‘If they think I can’t speak English, they leave me alone.’

  Dad could relate to that. It was a clever idea. He was fluent in several Papua New Guinean dialects. Perhaps he could pretend that was all he spoke. He looked over to his now partially crushed rhododendron bush. A blue shape caught his eye.

  ‘Is that what you were hiding?’ he asked.

  Ingrid actually blushed. Given that her hair was so blonde it was almost white, her now beetroot-red face stood out in contrast.

  Dad tilted his head so he could see the blue shape better. ‘Is that a can of … bug spray?’ He smiled. Dad loved bug spray.

  Now Ingrid looked ashamed. ‘Please don’t tell Loretta. I reacted instinctively. I couldn’t bear being in the house with that revolting creature.’

  ‘You sprayed Loretta?’ asked Dad. Now he was just getting confused.

  ‘No, I sprayed her cockroach,’ said Ingrid. ‘It was huge and so disgusting. I couldn’t sleep at night knowing it was in the next room.’

  Dad’s face lit up. ‘I know exactly how you feel! I hate cockroaches too.’

  ‘You do?’ said Ingrid, so relieved to find a kindred spirit.

  ‘They’re horrific disease-carrying Jurassic mini-monsters,’ said Dad.

  ‘I know!’ agreed Ingrid. ‘But Dr Viswanathan paid a fortune for it, and Loretta loved it. I’ll lose my job if they find out.’

  Dad’s face fell. He looked at the can. ‘Then we’ll have to dig a deeper hole. You don’t want Vladimir kicking it up when Loretta is show jumping in my garden. I’ve got a post hole digger. We can put it three feet down and she’ll never find it.’

  ‘Thank you!’ exclaimed Ingrid. ‘Thank you, so much! You won’t tell anyone I can speak English, will you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Dad.

  The two of them set to work, as thick as thieves. Dad’s hands had stopped shaking again. It always made him feel better to be at work in the garden.

  Joe was dejected when he came home from school. He found Fin and April upstairs going through the junk in Fin’s bedroom.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘I waited to walk home with you, but some girl called M-M-Matilda was all snide about how you’d g-g-gone home already.’

  ‘We’ve been banned from attending the cockroach races,’ said April angrily. ‘And the stupid ball.’

  ‘Can they do that?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Apparently the local council has extraordinary powers to introduce regulations in a special space during an emergency situation,’ said Fin. ‘They actually showed us the text in the town’s constitution.’

  ‘B-But what’s the emergency?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Everyone in town having severe mental health problems,’ grumbled April.

  ‘Pumpkin ate Matilda’s cockroach. Everyone thinks we’re serial cockroach killers,’ explained Fin. ‘Then April got into an argument with Mr Lang about it all, so she sent herself home from school early.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ said Joe. ‘You’ll get an unexplained absence on your permanent record.’

  ‘I doubt the unexplained absences are going to be the most shocking things on April’s permanent record,’ said Fin, still going through boxes.

  ‘What are you doing now?’ asked Joe. April and Fin looked like they were searching for something.

  ‘Looking for things we can make into a disguise,’ said April, tossing aside some old clothes.

  ‘Why?’ asked Joe.

  ‘We’re not telling you,’ said April. ‘You’re such a good boy now you’d probably dob us in.’

  Joe frowned. He had hoped that being a girl, April would be able to help him talk to Loretta. Perhaps even talk to Loretta for him. But since she was being miserable and rude he didn’t feel like asking her. Maybe his father would have advice. After all, Dad had married their mother, so he must have spoken to her at some point to make that happen.

  Joe trudged back downstairs in search of Dad. He found him in the kitchen washing dirt off his hands.

  ‘Hi, Dad,’ said Joe.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Dad, flinching. ‘I was just gardening. That’s why my hands are dirty. Nothing else.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Joe. ‘I was wondering if you could help me.’

  ‘I’m not very good with life-threatening situations that require immediate physical action,’ said Dad.

  ‘I know, but it’s nothing like that,’ said Joe. ‘I need to talk to a g-g-girl.’

  ‘Good gracious,’ said Dad. ‘That’s even worse.’

  ‘It is?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Oh yes, just don’t do it,’ urged Dad. ‘They’re nothing but trouble.’

  ‘But you talked to Mum,’ said Joe, ‘when you first met her, d-d-didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Dad. ‘I don’t know how I found the courage. In hindsight, I wonder if she was using one of her super-spy mind-altering rays on me at the time.’

  ‘I wish someone would use a m-m-mind-altering ray on me,’ said Joe.

  ‘You could always write a letter,’ suggested Dad. ‘It’s much easier, because you don’t have to look at the girl while you’re thinking up the words.’

  ‘Nah,’ said Joe. ‘Quicker to just get the humiliation over with.’

  Joe headed out. He would rather drill a hole in his own foot than talk
to Loretta, but it had to be done. The talking, not the drilling. At least he didn’t have far to walk. Joe only made it halfway down the driveway when he heard a clatter of hooves and looked up to see a big brown stallion galloping towards him.

  ‘Aaagghh!’ cried Joe as he leapt out of the way, diving into a bush.

  The horse pulled up, skidding a little on the gravel, then reared up in protest. Loretta sat forward in her seat as her horse stomped down, snorting and huffing dramatically.

  ‘Oh stop being so silly, Vlad,’ Loretta chided her horse. ‘It’s only a boy.’ She called out to Joe. ‘Are you all right?

  ‘Y-Y-Yes,’ lied Joe. He had landed in a rose bush and had several thorns imbedded in his palms, but he hadn’t been kicked in the head by a horse so he considered himself lucky.

  ‘We didn’t expect to see you there, did we, Vlad?’ said Loretta, patting her horse before looking up at Joe. ‘You know, it would be much safer if you walked across the lawn.’

  ‘This is our driveway,’ said Joe.

  ‘Yes, but Daddy doesn’t like it when I gallop on our own driveway,’ explained Loretta. ‘He says it makes a mess.’

  Joe saw the gravel that had been sprayed about and the deep hoof prints in the drive. Loretta’s father had a point. When he looked up, Loretta was staring at him.

  ‘Why do you stammer?’ she asked.

  ‘W-What?’ said Joe. Usually people were too polite to mention his speech impediment.

  ‘Did something traumatic happen to you when you were little?’ Loretta asked curiously. From the gleam in her eye she seemed to hope it was something juicy.

  ‘No,’ said Joe. ‘I’ve j-j-just always t-talked this way. Doctors don’t know what c-c-causes it.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ said Loretta. ‘There’s a lot doctors don’t know. My own parents in particular are startlingly ignorant of anything that takes place outside of a chest cavity.’

  ‘It’s worse when I’m n-n-n …’ began Joe.

  ‘Nervous,’ said Loretta, finishing his sentence for him. ‘And I make you nervous, don’t I?’

  ‘N-n-n …’ Joe struggled to protest, but he couldn’t get the word out.

  Loretta laughed. ‘Don’t worry. I have that effect on everyone. I’ve spent years cultivating it.’

  Joe fell silent. Not because he couldn’t speak, but because he had no idea what to say to this very strange and beautiful girl.

  ‘So see you later, I guess,’ called Loretta as she turned to go, raising her heels ready to give Vladimir a nudge.

  ‘Wait!’ cried Joe.

  Loretta turned back.

  ‘I n-need to talk to you,’ said Joe.

  ‘Really?’ said Loretta. ‘How intriguing.’

  ‘I was w-w-walking over to see you,’ explained Joe.

  ‘Then what good luck that we bumped into each other,’ said Loretta happily. ‘Do you want me to jump down so we can see eye-to-eye?’

  ‘No, er …’ Joe began to protest.

  But Loretta had already swung a leg over and was sliding off Vladimir. She turned to Joe and smiled. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  Joe’s brain had stopped working as soon as Loretta smiled.

  ‘Er …’ said Joe.

  ‘It must be important for you to walk over to see me,’ said Loretta.

  Joe nodded.

  ‘Do you have a problem?’ asked Loretta.

  Joe nodded again, happy that she was so quick on the uptake.

  ‘What is it?’ Loretta asked.

  ‘The b-b-ball,’ said Joe.

  ‘Oh,’ said Loretta. ‘I understand.’

  Joe sighed with relief.

  ‘You’ve hit a ball into our yard and you want to go and get it,’ said Loretta. ‘That’s fine. Pop over anytime.’

  She turned to remount her horse. ‘No,’ said Joe. ‘It’s the b-b-ball ball.’

  Loretta looked confused.

  Joe took a deep breath and stared at the ground so he wouldn’t be intimidated by Loretta’s beauty, then said all in a hurry, ‘The Cockroach Races Ball. Daisy Odinsdottir asked me to ask her, but I don’t want to because she terrifies me. I told her I was taking someone else, but then she asked who and I couldn’t think of any girl’s name from school, so I said … you.’

  There was a dreadful pause. Joe looked up. Loretta was staring at him again. He wished Vlad would just kick him in the head and put him out of his misery.

  ‘You told Daisy Odinsdottir you were taking me to the Cockroach Races Ball?’ clarified Loretta.

  ‘Y-Y-Yes,’ said Joe. ‘I’m so sorry. I can tell her you b-b-broke your ankle and can’t go. Not that that would work because then you’d have to b-b-break your ankle. But I could tell her you ch-changed your mind when you got to know me better.’

  ‘But then she’d expect you to take her,’ said Loretta.

  ‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘All the possibilities are h-h-horrible.’

  ‘There’s another possibility,’ said Loretta. ‘You could actually take me.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Joe. ‘I wouldn’t dream of that. You’re far too beautiful. It wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘I’d like to go,’ said Loretta.

  ‘But with someone better,’ said Joe.

  ‘No,’ said Loretta. ‘You’ll do.’ She smiled at him mischievously as she remounted her horse. Her bottom flying past Joe’s face with disconcerting closeness.

  ‘Pick me up at seven,’ said Loretta.

  ‘Should I get you a c-c-corsage?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Gosh no,’ said Loretta. ‘This isn’t the 1950s. Besides, all my dresses are too nice to stick pins in. Don’t be early,’ said Loretta as she kicked her horse into a trot.

  ‘Don’t you mean “Don’t be late”?’ asked Joe.

  ‘No, I want to be late,’ said Loretta. ‘That way I can make a much more impressive entrance.’

  She nudged her horse again and galloped forward, disappearing around the side of the house, no doubt to further damage Dad’s flowerbeds. Loretta didn’t just like making impressive entrances, she liked making impressive exits as well.

  ‘Do you think these disguises will work?’ asked Fin skittishly.

  It was Friday night, and he and April were walking the last couple of blocks to the town hall where the Cockroach Races Ball was being held. Fin was dressed as a unicorn and April was dressed as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. They didn’t want to know why their father had these costumes in a trunk in the attic but he did, and the costumes completely covered their bodies and faces, so they were wearing them.

  ‘Of course they’ll work,’ said April aggressively. ‘No one can recognise us, can they?’

  ‘But we’re pretty conspicuous,’ said Fin. ‘We’re going to really stand out.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said April. ‘People wear all sorts of weird things to parties. No one will even notice us.’

  They could hear music playing as April jogged up the front steps of the venue. Fin hurried after her, not wanting to be left behind. The Currawong Town Hall was a surprisingly grand art deco building with fake plaster copies of Grecian statues and heavy brass fittings. Fin and April crossed the lobby and pushed open the heavy double doors that led into the party.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Fin. ‘We may have made a terrible mistake.’

  Everyone else at the party was dressed in black tie. The boys and men all wore tuxedos and the girls and women all wore beautiful, if somewhat old-fashioned, ball gowns.

  ‘What is this?’ asked April in disgust. ‘It’s like we’ve stepped into a crowd scene from a Fred Astaire movie.’

  ‘Let’s go home,’ said Fin, panicking.

  April grabbed him tightly by the wrist. ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ she said. ‘No one is going to give us a second glance. They’ll all be too busy worrying about how silly they look themselves, dressed up in monkey suits and dresses that look like meringues.’

  April dragged Fin further into the room. They weaved their way through the dancers, Ap
ril showing uncharacteristic restraint. She only shoved two couples, demanding they get out of her way, as she progressed across the floor.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Fin.

  ‘Look,’ said April, pointing to the far side of the room.

  Fin stood on tippy-toes. ‘I can’t see anything.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot you’re short,’ said April. ‘The cockroaches are over there.’

  ‘At the ball?!’ exclaimed Fin. ‘That can’t be sanitary.’

  They broke through the crowd and now Fin could see for himself. A long trestle table had been set up, and down its length stretched a line of cockroaches in small aquariums, large jam jars and various sized boxes. A plaque for each contestant was neatly inscribed with the trainer’s names. There must have been at least sixty cockroaches in all.

  April stepped forward to get a closer look, but a burly security guard intercepted her.

  ‘Stay behind the rope,’ instructed the guard sternly.

  A red velvet rope hung in front of the table, cordoning it off so that no one could get within a metre of the cockroaches.

  ‘Security is pretty tight,’ said Fin.

  ‘If you call a velvet rope and a middle-aged man with a heart condition “security”,’ said April.

  ‘Hey, I don’t have a heart condition,’ said the security guard.

  ‘Really?’ said April, with feigned concern. ‘Then you should check with your doctor, because it’s not natural to have skin that grey, and you’re sweating a lot.’

  ‘What?’ asked the security guard.

  ‘He doesn’t look good, does he?’ said April, nudging Fin and giving him a meaningful look.