by J A Mawter
Clem burst into tears. ‘I could’ve been killed,’ she said between sobs. The white sock stained with red.
It was only when Mio reached the others that her shaking started.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Bryce. He caught her as her legs gave way, then lowered her to the ground.
‘Sure.’ But Mio’s smile was too bright and there was a quiver to her top lip. It was a long time since she had fought like that. And never away from the safety of Saitosan, her teacher.
Bryce bear-hugged her. ‘You’re so brave, Mio. I couldn’t have done that.’
‘Awesome,’ agreed Darcy.
‘Just like a real samurai.’ Bryce held his hands in front of his chest, palm to palm, and bowed.
Darcy laughed, saying, ‘And you would know?’
‘I can’t believe he had a knife!’ Bryce shook his head, still in shock. ‘That guy’s mega-dangerous.’
Clem flung her arms around Mio, saying, ‘You saved my life. Thank you.’
Mio nodded, her face more pale than ivory.
‘Bummer!’ Darcy scuffed his shoe along the ground. ‘We lost the boy.’ He walked back to the corner of the warehouse and peered round. The others joined him. ‘Long gone,’ said Darcy with a sigh.
Clem chewed her lip. Her hand was starting to throb. She held it above her head like she’d been taught in first aid, shivering as she thought, This is getting way too scary!
Bryce slumped against the wall and slid down, asking, ‘What’s going on? I don’t understand. Everything’s going wrong.’ He put his head in his hands.
‘That man’s up to no good,’ said Darcy, ‘but why?’
Mio nodded. ‘It’s something to do with the dogs.’
Bryce looked up. ‘The question is, what?’
‘And what’s the boy got to do with it?’ asked Darcy. ‘Is he in with him, or not?’
Clem sighed then said, ‘If only we knew.’
Slowly they made their way back towards the park. When they reached the end of the warehouse Clem retrieved the cap and then the vest from where she had dropped them. Close inspection of the vest revealed nothing, except that it was made in China. The cap was black, peaked, and across the front were the words Scram Dangle. Clem turned it over to inspect inside, then cried, ‘Bingo!’ as she grabbed the tag. Scrawled over the washing instructions, in black permanent marker, was the name Dang Van Tong.
‘So, that’s his name!’ exclaimed Clem. ‘Dang.’
‘Could be why he’s into the group The Scram Dangle.’ Bryce started nodding his head and playing air-guitar. ‘You know. Shake that tha-a-ang. Shake that tha-a-ang.’
Mio managed a pinched smile as she explained, ‘You’re both on the wrong track. Dang isn’t his first name. It’s his last name. His surname.’
‘So his first name’s Van?’ asked Darcy, then he smarted with embarrassment when Mio explained, ‘No, silly. His first name is Tong.’
‘Tong?’ echoed Bryce.
Mio nodded.
Darcy grinned as he said, ‘Who’d call a kid Tong?’
Looking Darcy in the eye Mio answered, ‘The same people who would call their kid Mio. Or Darcy, or Clem, or Bryce.’
‘Oh.’ Darcy wished he’d thought more before opening his mouth.
Mio continued, ‘They’re all just names.’
‘So, how’d we find this Tong?’ asked Bryce, throwing down his air-guitar and hooking his thumbs in his pockets. ‘I’d rather face him than that man.’
Mio shuddered. ‘Me, too.’
Clem sighed and held up her cut hand. ‘What do you think? Should I report this to the police?’
‘No way!’ Bryce cried. ‘We don’t need them. We can solve this. I know we can. The less we have to do with the cops the better.’
‘I agree,’ said Darcy as he folded his arms across his chest and peered around the street. ‘The less people involved the better.’
‘So we go it alone?’ asked Clem.
‘Yes!’
‘Yup!’
‘Yeah!’
‘That’s settled, then.’ Clem groaned and her shoulders slumped. ‘We now have one beagle, one Chin, one man and one boy to find. That’s all!’
‘A cinch!’ agreed Darcy. He scowled as he looked at Clem’s bound hand. ‘We need to get you cleaned up first. Let’s head back to The Van and get our bikes.’
As they approached the park, Bryce stopped in his path. ‘Funny,’ he said, his brows knitting together.
‘What?’ asked Mio.
Bryce held his head to the side. His ears moved a fraction as he strained to listen.
‘What is it?’ asked Clem. ‘What do you hear?’
Bryce straightened up and gave a hesitant laugh. ‘I thought I heard the beagle’s soulful song.’ He grabbed Clem’s arm, asking, ‘Did you?’
‘Nuh, uh.’
Bryce looked to the others.
‘Me, either.’
‘Either.’
Clem shrugged Bryce’s hand away, then smiled at him. ‘You’re probably just imagining it. Your head’s so chockers with music.’
Darcy laughed and poked Bryce in the ribs. ‘You’ve got a bad case of Beagle-on-the-Brain.’ He tut-tutted and put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder as he said, ‘Sorry, old boy. I hear it’s terminal.’
They all laughed, glad of the diversion. The four kids approached The Van, heads bowed, deep in thought. A large truck was trying to fit into the alley, accelerating, then braking, then accelerating again as it manoeuvred its way past a parked car. Exhaust fumes gushed through the air.
‘Let’s go see Mr Lark,’ said Clem, holding up her socked hand. ‘He’ll clean this up. I don’t want Mum and Dad to know. They’ll make me stay home.’
‘Okay,’ said Darcy. ‘But how do we explain the cut? I don’t think we should tell him about the knife.’
‘Easy,’ said Clem. ‘I cut it on a broken bottle. The streets are littered with them.’
‘Let’s grab our bikes,’ said Mio, relieved that her heart had finally slowed down. ‘I think I need some freewheeling.’ She turned to Clem and asked, ‘You up to it?’
‘Think so.’
In single file the kids headed for Mr Lark’s, mucking about to let off steam. One by one they bounced down a flight of stairs, their heads jarring with each one.
‘Whu-whu-whu-whu,’ said Bryce. ‘Way to go!’
They waited at the bottom for Clem, who was walking down so she didn’t jar her hand. From there on there was a straight stretch. Darcy, Mio and Bryce got up speed then pulled up on their handlebars riding on their back wheels. They looked like dancers in a conga. Clem followed more sedately behind.
‘Freewheelers!’ they announced to passing pedestrians.
At the post office they turned the corner then picked up speed. ‘Lollipops!’ yelled Darcy as he weaved left, then right, then left in perfectly formed squiggles. Three riders squiggled behind, Clem rather inelegantly. ‘No hands!’ cued Darcy, riding along a straight stretch with his arms crossed, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.
‘Daisy chains!’ called Mio. They broke off in sets of two and turned around, riding in a diagonal with each kid riding between the others. Then they looped round and rode in the opposite diagonal.
‘Barbershop,’ said Darcy, which had nothing to do with a shop at all. It was when they rode between two tree trunks, so near that it was a close shave. But when they got to the trees Darcy stopped. A poster had been nailed into the trunk.
Missing: Lissa. Weimaraner. Lost in local vicinity. Only three months old. Please phone 45568729. Reward.
‘That’s the second one I’ve seen,’ said Mio.
Darcy turned to the others, saying, ‘Weird.’
Mr Lark was on his veranda, a washing basket tucked under one arm and a peg bag in the other.
‘We’ll do that for you,’ said Darcy, taking the basket from him, then the peg bag. ‘And while we’re folding the sheets there’s something you can do for Cl
em.’ In no time at all there was a carefully stacked pile of laundry.
While Mr Lark cleaned Clem’s cut the kids told him all their news, from discovering the boy’s name and how he eavesdropped to seeing the bad man again with the chin. They didn’t mention the knife.
‘Seems to be an awful lot of dogs going missing,’ observed Mr Lark a few minutes later.
Clem sucked in her breath as iodine was applied. ‘That’s what we think, too.’
‘Might be a coincidence.’
Clem blew on her hand then looked up. ‘Might not.’
‘Which reminds me, this morning I went to the Braxxby shelter to check if the dog’s still in that equipment shed.’
‘And?’
Mr Lark shook his head. ‘Not unless it’s been doped in some way. I took some ham to lure it out but there was nothing. No snout, no yelps, yaps. Nothing.’
‘So, it’s true.’ Clem’s shoulders sagged, her face pinched with misery. ‘Our beagle’s left the shelter.’
‘It would appear so,’ said Mr Lark. He placed two plasters over Clem’s cut and closed the firstaid kit. ‘I even asked the lovely lady in Reception if they had a beagle but she said, “No”.’
‘Lady?’ Mio leaned closer. ‘You sure it was a lady?’
Mr Lark looked bemused but he answered good-naturedly, ‘Of course, I’m sure. I know a good-
looking sort when I see one. Lovely lady by the name of Elaine.’
‘Same as the one I first spoke to!’ Darcy gripped the kitchen bench as he turned to the others. ‘See, I’m not going crazy. She’s real.’
‘So this means Tong’s telling the truth,’ said Clem. ‘You know how we couldn’t be sure about the note. Well, now we know.’
‘It still doesn’t tell us whether he’s our friend or our enemy.’ Bryce frowned, saying, ‘It’s all so confusing.’ His stomach gave a loud grumble as he said, ‘Thinking makes me hungry.’
Mr Lark chuckled. ‘That’s my cue. I guess you lot wouldn’t like the chocolate brownies I just made? Still warm from the oven.’
‘Wouldn’t we!’
Mio glanced at her watch and frowned, asking, ‘Mind if I ring Mum, Mr Lark? Tell her that I’m here. I don’t want her to worry.’
‘Go right ahead.’ The kids settled on their stools around the table. Mr Lark plonked the tray of brownies in front of them. It was a deep brown, lightly dusted with icing sugar. Rich chocolatey smells filled the air and knife furrows criss-crossed the pan. ‘Wash those hands.’
They all made a beeline for the sink where much shuffling and hustling went on. Once seated they reached for the slice, even Mio. Still warm, it crumbled to the touch, but not one crumb was wasted.
‘Don’t know if I like this recipe or the other one,’ said Mr Lark, licking a crumb from the corner of his mouth. ‘The one I made a few weeks back.’
‘Can’t remember.’ Bryce got a glint in his eye. ‘Maybe you should make them both again and we’ll compare?’
‘Great idea. Maybe we should compare three recipes? Or even four,’ suggested Darcy as he reached for his third piece and placed it whole in his mouth.
Bryce licked off his icing-sugar moustache, saying, ‘It’s the least we can do.’
Mr Lark chuckled, then scratched his eyebrow as he thought. ‘Those missing pets could’ve been caught by the dog-catchers. It happens. I was once a dog-catcher myself.’
‘When?’ asked Mio, politely wiping her mouth with a serviette.
‘A long time back. In another country. Another century.’
‘What should we do now?’ asked Clem when the tray was completely empty.
Bryce looked expectant as he suggested, ‘Make some more?’
‘Sorry, matey. All out of butter.’ Mr Lark gave a half-smile. ‘Maybe next time you visit you can make some.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
Darcy took the tray to the sink. He put in the plug and ran some hot water, at the same time reaching for the gloves and washing detergent. ‘What’ll we do now?’ he repeated.
‘Go back to the warehouse.’ Clem looked at the others, daring them to argue.
Mio blanched, but said nothing. She thought about how much the day had unnerved her and what could’ve happened if she hadn’t knocked away the knife, then shuddered.
Bryce frowned. It was one thing to defend yourself when you’re being attacked but it was completely different to go looking for trouble. Besides, he knew his dad wouldn’t approve. He wasn’t sure if he did either!
‘You be careful.’ Mr Lark waggled a finger at them. ‘Stay together. And keep out of trouble.’
‘We will.’
‘Yes.’
Once outside Clem said with conviction, ‘We have to go back to the scene of the crime. That’s what they always do on TV.’
Darcy strapped on his helmet, saying, ‘Let’s do it.’
Chapter Seventeen
The kids were back at the warehouse after securing their bikes at The Van. ‘What exactly do you expect to find?’ asked Bryce, his eyes darting up and down the street. Any moment the man could return.
‘Dunno,’ said Clem with a shrug. ‘I’ll tell you when I find it.’ She walked slowly around the walls of the warehouse, trying to find a way in. Weeds broke through the sandstone blocks, now grubby with age. Initials had been carved in the stone with the occasional ‘Katie Loves Ben’ or ‘Go the Bulls!’. Clem bent down and drew her finger along a slab, leaving a pale streak behind. She looked at her muddied finger and said, ‘Yuck!’
Bryce scuffed his toe at a weed growing through cracks in the pavement. He glanced at his watch and whistled. It was getting late. Cara’ll be having a spaz attack! he thought. The only good reason not to have a mobile phone.
‘Check this out,’ said Clem. ‘Somebody’s handiwork.’
In letters a metre high ‘ACM’ had been sprayed onto the sandstone in black paint. Below it, in smaller letters, was some form of signature. The letters twisted and curved in an intricate maze of lines. Clem took a step back, trying to decipher the word. ‘B something.’ She turned to Darcy and Bryce to help her out. ‘BR.’
Bryce walked over to inspect the wall and his heart skipped a beat. A sheen formed on his nose.
‘BR,’ echoed Darcy. He thumped Bryce on the back. ‘Not up to your old tricks, are you?’
Bryce swung round and walloped Darcy back, catching him by surprise. ‘Shut your face. I’m straight.’ He stepped up to the wall and pointed. ‘It says Brick. See? BRICK.’ He stopped, almost a snarl on his face. ‘Not Bryce!’
And with that he strode back to the park to get his bike, kicking at a chunk of rock as he went and sending it somersaulting like a tumbleweed.
Clem went to stop him but changed her mind. There was nothing she could do when Bryce got like this. She walked over to her brother and gave him a shove. ‘Did you have to? Lay off him, why don’t you.’
When Bryce reached the corner of the warehouse he turned and yelled, ‘For your information, I’m a writer, not a tagger,’ then he stormed off.
Clem, Darcy and Mio were shocked at the vehemence of his outburst.
Clem turned to her brother, her hands on her hips as she asked, ‘Happy now?’
‘It’s not my fault he’s so aggro.’ Darcy mirrored Clem, putting his hands on his own hips.
They went eyeball to eyeball.
‘He’s trying so hard to clean up his act and you seem hell-bent on bringing him down. It’s wrong, Darcy. Wrong.’
Mio lowered her head and closed her eyes. She breathed slowly, deeply, trying to still her racing heart. She imagined she was at a shrine at home. She loved the twins but sometimes they were so urusai, so noisy!
‘I know it’s wrong.’ Darcy hung his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘But it just pops out. I don’t mean to upset him.’
‘Tell that to Bryce.’
‘I will. After we’ve checked out this warehouse.’
Darcy paced around
the wall, stopping every so often to look up. The building was the height of a small block of units. Rust-coloured paint dangled off window sills in weathered strips. The windows on the ground floor were too high to see through, but even if the kids were tall enough they’d have no luck as each one had been plastered with paper.
‘Why’d they paste over the windows?’ asked Darcy, squinting as he peered up at them. ‘Decoration?’
Mio found her voice. ‘To keep the sun out?’
‘More like to keep prying eyes out,’ said Clem. She stood on tiptoe, trying to look in. ‘Did the trick, too.’
The kids walked past two huge doors, locked of course, with the biggest keyhole they’d ever seen.
‘Looks like it’s a door for a giant.’ Darcy lined his eye up with the keyhole, saying, ‘Blocked! Wouldn’t you know it?’
‘Look at that,’ said Mio, pointing to the top of the door.
‘MCMXIV,’ read Clem. ‘That’s Roman numerals…’
Mio came in quickly. ‘1914. It’s pretty old. Wonder what it was built for?’
‘Who knows? Who cares?’ said Clem. ‘It’s what it’s used for now that I’m interested in.’ She continued to walk around the building. The next doorway she reached was a normal size. It, too, was made of wood. She called to the others, ‘Come here.’
Darcy was the first to arrive. ‘Yes? We have a door. And your point is?’
‘It’s not just any door,’ said Clem, pointing to a latch. ‘It’s a small door. Easy to go in and out. Not like those other big ones.’
Darcy raised his eyebrows. ’Don’t you think you’re clutching at straws?’
‘I was just thinking,’ said Clem with a snort. ‘Which is more than I can say for you.’
‘Hey, enough with the insults.’
‘Enough with the smart remarks, then.’
The kids continued with their search but found nothing. They returned to The Van.
Darcy sat on his milk crate and, pushing his fringe out of his eyes, he said, ‘Let’s try and be logical about this. We’ve seen two dogs now.’
‘The beagle and the chin,’ said Clem.
‘And one man.’
Clem nodded. ‘One psycho man.’
