Lost Voice of the Grand Final
Discovered by Sleuth Astrid, the Mind-Reading Chook
Written by Hazel Edwards.
www.hazeldedwards.com
Illustrated and designed by Jane Connory.
ww.janeconnory.com
It was the Grand Final on Saturday. Carrot the Parrot was the Coach for the Birds’ team. But he’d lost his voice. Sleuth Astrid had to find it, in time for the Grand Final because the team needed the Voice of the Coach.
Was the Voice captured in the TV ‘Footy’ studio? Lost down his throat? Was a Voice Coach any use? What about the Speakeasy? Or the Voice-over on the TV Footy panel or on Talk-back?
And then there’s the Bird Wedding of the Year. Carrot was supposed to be the MC (Master of Ceremonies).
As usual, Sleuth Astrid the Mind-Reading Chook, solves the problem.
Hidden in each chapter is a clue that will help solve Astrid’s mystery. Snoop around each illustration to find a hidden letter, unscramble a word and help Astrid uncover the secret to the lost voice of the grand final.
Also in the Sleuth Astrid series, by Hazel Edwards.
Copyright © Hazel Edwards and Jane Connory, 2011.
Written By Hazel Edwards.
www.hazeledwards.com
Illustration and design by Jane Connory.
www.janeconnory.com
978-0-9871575-3-9 Sleuth Astrid: Lost Voice of the Grand Final
All electronic rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
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Chapter Contents
Chapter 1 Entry I.D.
Chapter 2 The Job
Chapter 3 Coach With No Voice
Chapter 4 Speakeasy
Chapter 5 T.V. Studio
Chapter 6 Talk-Back Radio & The Voice Coach
Chapter 7 The Grand Final
Chapter 8 Bird of the Year Wedding
Chapter 1
Entry I.D.
Grand Final is one of those SPECIAL days. For months, footy fans look forward to the Grand Final, especially if their team is in the Finals match. Or even in the Semi-Finals. Fans wear their team colours and numbers. They sing team songs. And they talk about their players’ injuries. Football fitness is more important than world peace in the farmyard.
Rooster thinks he’s boss of the yard. But the hens are the real players. I know all the farmyard gossip about who is doing what. But I don’t follow football.
‘Which is your football team?’ Rooster asks. He likes the team with his Rooster colours. I don’t peck an answer. As a hi-tech chook, I know stuff Rooster doesn’t. Especially since I work part-time as a sleuth.
‘Do you follow Soccer?’
I shake my head.
‘Do you like Aussie Rules?’
I shake my head.
‘Do you like Rugby?’
I shake my head.
‘Then why are you going to the Grand Final?’ asks Rooster.
‘Working there.’
I’m on a budget.
And I don’t make lots of money.
So I couldn’t afford a ticket for the Grand Final.
Those tickets cost squillions.
But I had a bit of luck.
I was asked to work there on Grand Final Day, by my agent.
‘Does that mean I get in for free?’ I asked.
‘Only if you’re wearing a special ID tag,’ said my agent Ben.
And that’s why I now have an ALL ENTRY PASS. I can get into any stand. Even into the training area.
My e-ID tag says ‘VISITOR: Special Security’.
I’m on the job.
But I’m not telling Rooster. The hens will tell him the gossip soon enough. He’d be green with envy. And that won’t match his club colours.
Chapter 2
The Job
My name is Astrid. I’m a mind-reading chook. I have a few hi-tech toys too. Z-Tek games are my latest.
Chickens are ordinary. But I’m special. Ever since that accident in the Lab, I’ve been able to read minds. This helps when I’m sleuthing.. I’m EXCELLENT at finding things.
RING. RING. RING.
‘Hullo, Astrid here.’ I pull my Z-com from under my wing. I like being a hi-tech hen. I can peck very fast on my screen.
‘Astrid, it’s Ben. I’ve got a job for you.’ Ben is a good agent, most of the time. He gets extra work for me. Sleuthing. Or as an actor. I can act really well as a chicken. But no more Hot Chicken Shop commercials!
I don’t even like going near that Hot Chicken shop. It’s no mystery what happened to my Aunty Rhoda in there. She became a Special Sandwich with lettuce, mustard and pickles. And my uncle is now a duster at the Feather Bed Shop. So I won’t act in bed-shop commercials either.
Ben says quickly, ‘This is NOT a Chicken Shop acting job. Okay?’
‘Where is it?’
‘The Sports Centre. You know it’s the Grand Final on Saturday?’
‘Yes. Hens in the farmyard have been talking about it. So has Rooster.’
‘The Coach has got Grand Final Fever.’
‘So has most of the farmyard. What’s the job?’
I don’t play football. My wings are clumsy on the muddy field. I’m not a fast bird like some players. The Birds were finalists, but they weren’t that desperate. I only play computer games, not football. My job is to solve mysteries.
‘Something is lost, again,’ says Ben.
Last time, I found Merlin the Magician’s lost sense of humour. Merlin needed to be able to laugh in time for his 3pm magic show at the Mall. He did.
I like solving mysteries. I look for clues. And I keep my eyes to the ground. I notice things. And most people don’t notice a chook who’s just pecking around.
‘Who’s the client this time?’ I ask.
‘It’s Carrot the Parrot himself,’ says Ben. ‘He’s lost his voice.’
‘That’s no mystery. He’s probably worn it out.’
Carrot is one of those parrots who is always talking. Parts of him are the same colour as his name. Like the vegetable. But he says he’s ‘exotic’. No garden vegetable colours for him. I think he’s just orange-carrot coloured. Very noticeable, especially when he yells at you.
‘The Birds team are in the Final and Carrot is the coach. HE says, they need him at the ground to tell them what to do.’ I wondered how Coach Carrot told that to Ben if he lost his voice. Maybe an e-mail? I use Chook mail myself on my Z-com.
Anyone who watches TV Sports knows about Coach Carrot. He is always being interviewed on an ‘expert’ panel.
In fact, he talks ALL the time. If it’s not about football, Carrot’s talking about himself or the special events at which he is Master of Ceremonies. He’s that kind of a bird. Ruffles a few feathers.
If Rooster and Carrot were in the same farmyard, no-one else would get a chance to speak. Wall- to- wall words. Bird war. Feathers ruffled on both sides. Luckily Carrot lives near the Sports Ground, not in the farmyard. He likes to live on the job.
‘He can’t talk or tell players what to do anymore,’ says Ben. ‘That’s why he sent an urgent e-mail.’
‘When did he lose his voice?’ I ask.
‘Before he got up this morning,’ says Ben.
‘Does he know where he lost it?’ I say. ‘Or why?’
‘No. That’s why you’ve got the job of finding it. The Voice of the Coach must be at the Grand Final.’
‘What about my fee?’
‘D’you want the usual?’ asks Ben.
‘Yes please.’ Since I’m a hi-tech chook , Ben pays me in new e-games like Leghorn, Eggs Galore or Find the Egg.
‘The voice must be found before Saturday’s Game,’ repeats Ben. ‘And the Coach has an even more important, speaking date the next day.’
‘Sunday?’
‘Yes. It’s Bird of the Year Wedding.’
‘Is Carrot getting married?’ I wondered who would marry Carrot.
‘No. Coach isn’t keen on any of his footballers getting married on Grand Final weekend. The Bride wanted to marry at 2pm on the Saturday. But the game is on Saturday. Now the wedding will be on Sunday, instead of Saturday. And Carrot is supposed to be the M.C. at the wedding.’
‘Who decided the wedding was on the Sunday?’
‘The Coach.’
‘Why do the wedding party do what the Coach says?’
‘Beak, the bridegroom is also the captain of the football team. They need Beak for the Grand Final. He has to help his team to win or else…’
‘Who do you barrack for? The Birds?’ Ben laughed. ‘How did you guess?’
This is a perfect job for Astrid, the hi-tech chook.
I google ‘Voice’ and then ‘Lost’ and then ‘Birds Coach’. Next, I find a Voice-Coach.
I’ll have to visit the football training ground. And talk to Carrot. Maybe this time, he will listen to me?
Chapter 3
Coach With No Voice
The Birds team is training down at the oval. So I ride my Harley-Davidson motor- cycle down to watch them. Put on my helmet, just in case.
A low flying bird dropped on my Z-com last time. Good luck or what?
Fans are cheering, and it’s only a practice. Hundreds of them crowd around the fence. They wave streamers, balloons and posters with their favourite players. Beak is very popular with the chicks.
The Assistant-Coach yells a lot. The footballers run up and down. The runner goes out on the field with messages about tactics. The ball is thrown around. They pose for photos. They sweat a lot. They autograph fans, on their hands, or their legs or write squiggly names on bits of paper.
Carrot stands near the goal. He is signalling to the Assistant Coach who is too busy to notice. Carrot is turning tomato-coloured. The Runner goes on field a lot.
How can I find out the facts from Carrot? I try sign language first. Then I realise. He’s not deaf. Just voice-less.
Carrot thinks he’s special. And now he isn’t. But he can HEAR people. They just can’t hear him.
So I put my Z-com screen under his beak. ‘Tap.’
I ask a question. Then he pecks an answer.
Carrot is a bad speller. His ‘score’ becomes ‘sore’ and ‘ham-string injury’ becomes ‘ham-bone.’ Voice becomes ‘vice’.
I can mind-read, but I get lost in Carrot’s murky mind which is all full of ‘I’. No room for anything else.
‘Open your beak. Let’s look at your throat.’
I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.
‘D’you think you should go to the hospital?’ See the Eye, Nose and Throat doctor?’
He shakes his head.
‘Carrot, where did you talk last?’
He keys some places: Sports Centre, Talkback Radio, TV Studio panel, Speakeasy.
Carrot’s List might be useful.
So I use my Z-com map to find the places on Carrot’s List.
I’m going to solve the mystery of the Lost Voice.
On my way home, I visit the Lost Property Office at the Sports Centre. On my Z-com map, that’s the closest place from Carrot’s List. Umbrellas, shoes and sports gear fill the room. But no clues to a lost voice.
I read Carrot’s List again. What is a Speakeasy? A café? A bar? A fast food place? Judging by the name, you should be able to speak easily there.
Time to check the henhouse. It’s the gossip centre of the yard. The hens know everything.
‘Do you know a place called the Speakeasy?’ I ask.
‘Yes, we decided NOT to go there for a hens’ night out before the wedding. We don’t drink homebrew. Cluck Cluck Cluck.’
Turns out that the Speakeasy was one of those rough, farmyard places. According to the hens, the Rooster went there occasionally for a drink of grain-water homebrew. Hard drink was banned in the farmyard. Only soft drinks, like water, were allowed. Speakeasy had its own homebrew and that attracted footballers, and Rooster.
On my Z-com, I find ‘Speakeasy’ and decide to snack at home, before I visit.. Eat before you drink is a sensible decision. Not that I was planning to drink homebrew at the Speakeasy. I was working.
I live in the bird yard. All kinds of birds rent a space. Ducks. Geese. Even a swan who teaches ballet.
I have my own loft where I keep my gear. There’s a space for my bike and the sidecar. And I can scratch around in the garden too.
At home, while dinner cooks, I try Chooks Anonymous. You can leave a question. Other people read it, and they leave answers if they’ve got any.
I key in, ‘Lost voice belonging to Carrot the Parrot. Please contact Astrid the Mind-reading Chook’. I type in my link. I hope someone leaves me a clue before the Grand Final.
Then I cruise a few sites, until I smell burning.
Dinner! Grainburgers with farm dressing, and, ... burnt mush.
Chapter 4
Speakeasy
My Z-com rings. I lift my wing.
‘Hi. This is Astrid.’
‘Are you the chook looking for the Voice of the Coach? ?’ The voice is scratchy, and there’s barking in the background. I don’t like the sound of it.
‘I’m Astrid the part-time sleuth. My client has lost his voice. Have you heard that voice recently?’
‘Yes,’ says the voice. ‘Last night.’
‘How do you know it belongs to Coach Carrot the Parrot?’ I ask.
‘Because he was here, warning us not to serve his footballers,’ says the voice.
‘Where?’ I ask the voice again.
‘At the SPEAKEASY in the lane.’
‘Which lane is that?’ Even a mind-reader can’t always get it right.
‘The one on the side lane, behind Main Street. But I’m leaving in half an hour. If you want to chat, come over now. I’m the one with the guard dog.’ He hung up.
I scan Carrot’s face onto my Z-com for easy I.D. I ride my bike so I won’t be late. The Z-com clips on the handlebar. My comb-wing swings in the breeze and my headlight works well. My number plate is EGGS-PERT.
A tiny sign says SPEAKEASY. Hard to find the lane unless you knew it was there. A creaky door. It’s a sort of bar with murky bottles on the shelves behind. And a smell of old mush.
‘Any lost voices around here?’ I joke.
Silence. Then a voice comes from the gloom behind the bar.
‘This is a Speakeasy. In the Olden Days, drinking was banned. So people used to slip in here for a drink. Homebrew. Farmyard Rot-gut. It’s easy to speak when you’ve had too many drinks.’
‘Did Coach Carrot come in here yesterday? Is he likely to drink much? He’s always telling his players to live healthy lives.’
‘Hard to see anyone in the dark here.’
I switch on my head-light. Then I can see him in the spot-light AND the open mouth of his guard dog, with sparkly, b
ig teeth. The dog sniffs my tail feathers. I move out of range.
The bartender checks my ID and I check his. I don’t check his dog’s identity. The other side of the bar is close enough.
‘So what sort of chook are you?’ asks the bartender.
‘I’m an English Sussex. See. I’m white with a black collar.’
Then I show him the scanned ‘mug shot’ of Carrot.’ Have you heard this man before? He’s the Coach of the Birds who are playing in the Grand Final on Saturday. But he’s lost his voice.’
‘I know that beak,’ says the bar-tender. ‘He was here yesterday afternoon, complaining.’
I look into his mind. There’s a Carrot face shape. He does know Carrot. ‘Did Carrot lose his voice here?’
‘Well, he used his voice here. He told us not to serve any drinks to his footballers. The Birds players had to be fit to play in the Grand Final. Our place was banned.’
‘What did he say exactly?’
The bar tender shrugged.
‘Help yourself to any sound you like. Web cam has security shots and recordings of all our visitors. Take a copy if you like.’
‘Thanks.’
I scan what I need. Carrot repeated himself a lot.
I tuck the SPEAKEASY copies under my wing.
That’s when I had an idea. Usually I can feel an egg coming on.
Carrot’s voice must be recorded in other places where he had worked before.
Talk-back radio must have recordings too.
Maybe I could join together, his second-hand words and phrases? And use them until the Coach’s Voice returned. After all, Carrot did tend to repeat himself.
Eggs-Exactly!
Chapter 5
TV Studio
The TV studio was see-through walls and shiny , slippery red seats. Chooks prefer feather not leather for their backsides. More comfortable. Less risk of falling off. I wait in the glassy room with all the mirrors and pictures of famous TV faces. Were they real or air-brushed? Often faces did not match the voices. Same with birds and beaks.
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