‘I didn’t kill Zombie. He killed himself. The bell he’d swung to crush me ended up knocking him out of the tower.’
‘Cal, I know.’ Winter touched my hand briefly as if to tell me I didn’t need to explain myself to her. ‘Sometimes karma takes a long time to catch up with you, but I guess for Zombie it happened almost instantly.’
I stared blankly at the floor.
‘There’s something else, too,’ said Winter.
‘Oh, no, what is it?’
‘You’re going to have to move back to the beachside mansion for a while.’
‘When? How come?’
‘Sligo said something about bringing over a new desk for me. I don’t know where it’s going to fit … but he hasn’t given me a time or a date, so I don’t think it’s safe for you here right now. I’ve already talked to Boges, so he knows all about it.’
I started grabbing all my things together.
‘Don’t look so sad,’ said Winter, touching my hand again. ‘I’ll try and get over to see you whenever I can.’
‘Dude,’ said Boges, ‘I checked out the undertakers’ place again, and spotted that casket with all the angels and flowers on it, but I couldn’t get a look inside it. The salesman was really suspicious and I had to leave.’
‘I doubt if the Riddle and the Jewel would still be in there,’ I said.
We were sitting at the kitchen bench, back in the Crystal Beach mansion, devouring hot meat pies. Boges had met me outside so he could let me in again and supply me with a new key.
‘Look,’ he said, showing me his phone. ‘A message on your blog from that guy Griff.’
‘What the heck’s he after?’ frowned Boges.
‘I don’t know, but I can’t call him. I don’t even have his number any more.’
‘I think I might have added it to my phone at some stage,’ said Boges. ‘Hang on, here’s another message from him.’
‘He knows something about Gabbi!’ I said, excitedly.
Boges’s face showed that he was completely unconvinced.
‘I know I swore I’d never have anything more to do with him, but this changes everything!’ My friend was looking at me like I was a fool. ‘Dude, I have no leads, whatsoever. Nobody’s come through with anything! Why wouldn’t I take this chance?’
‘Nobody’s come through with anything yet.’
‘I can’t waste any more time. Can you please give me his number? I have to find out what he knows. Even if it turns out to be nothing.’
132 days to go …
The address Griff had given me over the phone earlier turned out to be an old timber building, which probably once had a view of the sea, but was now surrounded by tall buildings and apartment blocks. I made sure it had a number of exits in case I needed to make a hasty retreat from what I knew deep down was a potentially dangerous meeting.
I found room eleven and knocked on the door, adrenaline rising, ready to sprint if I needed to.
‘Come in!’ Griff called out. I opened the door quickly and found him lounging on the floor, playing a video game. ‘Hang, on, just pausing it,’ he said.
He jumped up, a big grin on his face. Above his freckles, his hair was spiked up in a row of peaks, reminding me of a stegosaurus.
‘Good to see you! I wasn’t sure if you’d really come.’
‘I’ve only come for my sister.’
‘You’ve come to the right man, Cal,’ said Griff, checking his row of spikes in the mirror. ‘Or should I call you Tom?’ he added with a smirk. ‘Aunty asked me to find you.’
‘Your aunty? I thought she kicked you out.’
‘She did. But she realised I’m quite a helpful kind of guy. She’s the one who has information for you. Mouse.’
‘About Gabbi?’ I asked, confused. ‘How come your aunt knows about that?’
Griff switched off the video game and picked up his wallet and keys. ‘My aunty knows everything that goes on in the city. She runs a well-known boarding house.’
‘A boarding house? Is your aunty kind of … big?’ I asked.
‘Big? She’s huge! Two metres tall!’
I couldn’t believe it, his aunt was Ma Little! ‘I thought you said she was young?’
‘Well, she’s younger than my mum, is what I meant. Anyway, she sent me out looking for you to give you the name of a police informant, Dr Leporello. He’s agreed to act as the go-between–between you and the people who’ve kidnapped your sister. Apparently, he will pass messages backwards and forwards.’
‘A doctor?’ I said. Did that mean someone was looking after Gabbi? ‘But why didn’t she just pass that information onto Nelson Sharkey?’
‘Is that the ex-detective?’
‘Sharkey’s the one who sent me to Ma Little in the first place.’
‘I think she wanted to keep him out of it, until it’s time to pay up, of course.’ Griff rubbed his fingers together. ‘Anyway, let’s go. I’ll take you to Leporello.’
I followed Griff along the streets, my new hoodie covering most of my face, hurrying to keep up with him. I couldn’t wait to find out whether Gabbi was OK, but I was ready to run at the slightest hint of a double-cross.
‘I saw your poster in the cop shop,’ said Griff, as we hurried along.
‘What were you doing in the cop shop? Caught trying to steal cars again?’
‘Just a little misunderstanding that needed clearing up,’ he said. ‘You realise you’re a very valuable commodity–I mean to anyone who might turn you in.’
I stopped in my tracks. ‘Are you suggesting you might do that? Because if you are, I’m going to have to take action to protect myself.’ I made myself look as threatening as possible. I was a good head taller than Griff now, and much tougher, I knew that.
‘Hey! Cool it! Who’s talking about turning you in? I’m no rat!’
We resumed our hurried pace, me following him.
‘I don’t like traitors,’ I said. ‘And I don’t like guys who attack women in carparks, either.’
‘Hey, go easy. Don’t you remember that I helped you that day? I’m on your side.’
‘Really? Still mates with Three-O? Do you know he almost killed me by locking me in a freezer? All for the reward money?’
‘I’m nothing like him. Let me prove you wrong. I’m basically a good guy. Anyway, we’re here,’ said Griff, pointing across the road. ‘That’s his place over there.’
Dr Leporello operated from a semi-detached cottage that had been made into a small fortress. Steel bars completely enclosed the front verandah–with a steel gate over the front door. A muscly man paced up and down the enclosed area, smoking. As soon as he saw us, he paused, glaring at us menacingly through the bars. He wore a dark-grey charcoal suit, and an open-necked brown shirt, and I couldn’t help being reminded of a bad-tempered gorilla in a cage.
‘Rack off before I set the dogs on you,’ he growled as we approached the steel gate. Some dogs started barking, as if on cue, but I couldn’t see where it was coming from.
‘We have an appointment to see Dr Leporello,’ I called. ‘He’s expecting me.’
‘That’s right,’ added Griff. ‘Ma Little sent us.’
The guy glared at us for a few moments, before disappearing behind the front door. He re-appeared a few moments later and wordlessly beckoned us down a dark hallway.
‘Come right down,’ another voice called from further down the hall. ‘The last door on your right.’
Griff and I hesitantly walked down until we came to the fourth door. It was opened by a stooped man in a black woollen cardigan. He wore very thick glasses, and his long white hair was tied tightly back from his high forehead in a skinny ponytail.
‘Dr Leporello?’ I asked.
‘I am he.’
He ushered us in and we looked around in wonder. The room was very dark apart from isolated pools of light, illuminating botanical specimens under glass. The atmosphere was humid and smelled like wet earth and leaves after rain.
‘
I was informed you were coming,’ said Dr Leporello, waving his hand.
I couldn’t help staring at the mushrooms in the glass cases and wondered what on earth he had them here for. He must have seen my puzzled expression. ‘I am a leading expert on deadly mushrooms,’ he explained. ‘Here are three fine specimens.’
On a piece of rotting timber, lit from above, and in a temperature-controlled glass case, three big mushrooms with pale greenish-white caps were growing.
‘My favourite,’ said Dr Leporello, gently tapping the glass case. ‘Amanita phalloides, the Deathcap Fungus. A very tricky killer. They taste quite nice but after about eight or so hours, you’ll get an awful tummy ache. Then you’ll feel better and think you’ve just had food poisoning. Three days later, when you have completely forgotten about your “food poisoning”, you drop dead. A marvellous little killer, that one.’ He swished his white ponytail around and peered at the mushroom through his thick lenses.
‘I’ve been told you can help me connect with the people who have kidnapped Gabbi Ormond,’ I said. I wasn’t here to find out about mushrooms. I was hoping this doctor was the kind who could look after Gabbi, but it didn’t look like it.
Dr Leporello loomed closer, and as he did, I saw that his skin had the same whitish-green tinge as his three prized mushrooms. Instinctively, I moved back from him.
‘My aunt said you’d help my friend Mouse,’ Griff patted me on the back, ‘get a message to the kidnappers.’ Griff’s eyes moved to one of the other glass cases, where a huge red mushroom with white spots, like those in fairytales, was growing.
The peculiar man turned to another case, where a tall white mushroom leaned towards the glass wall. ‘And this is one of the Death Angels, Amanita virosa. Isn’t she beautiful,’ he sighed.
‘I’m afraid we’re not here to talk mushrooms.’
‘I called my eldest daughter Amanita, and my youngest I called Galerina, after Galerina autumnalis, another glorious specimen.’ He sighed, completely dismissing what I’d just said. ‘You know, I do miss those girls.’
Dr Leporello picked up a piece of paper. ‘One must be very careful,’ he said, ‘when going mushrooming. Every mycophagist needs to know what they’re doing.’
‘My cough-a-what?’ asked Griff.
‘Mushroom eater,’ he explained, disdainfully.
I was frustrated by this creepy old man with his white hair and his white skin and this collection of killer mushrooms.
‘A girl is being held by kidnappers,’ I said. ‘I was told you would help me. Was I given the correct information, or not?’
Dr Leporello chuckled. My nails dug into my palms as I clenched my fists in anger, but before I could say anything, he started reading from the piece of paper he’d picked up. ‘My instructions are these,’ he said. ‘You are to call this number.’
I snatched it from him and was about to make a call when suddenly the room was plunged into darkness.
‘Hey! What’s going on?’ I yelled. ‘Griff, what’s going on?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, his voice just as urgent and panicked.
‘Luminous mushrooms,’ Dr Leporello’s voice came from the corner of the room. My eyes scanned for him. ‘Automatic lights. On a timer,’ he said. ‘Have a look at these.’
On the other side of the room, I could see a greenish glow coming from a cluster of mushrooms. The doctor’s face was lit up ghoulishly just centimetres from it.
‘Mouse,’ called Griff from the doorway. ‘We have what we need, let’s go.’
I hurried after him.
‘What’s the rush?’ Dr Leporello called after us. ‘Where are you going, boys?’
‘Getting the hell away from you, fungus face,’ muttered Griff, as we hurried out through the front door.
The barking dogs started up again as the muscly guy out front opened the grilled gate to let us through.
‘That Leporello guy looks like one of the living dead,’ said Griff, as we sprinted across the road. ‘Like something from a zombie movie. But at least we have a phone number. You should make that call now. Do you think he made deadly mushrooms on toast for his daughters?’
Before I could answer him, the back doors of a large roadworks van that had been parked on the roadside suddenly flew open and helmeted riot police, complete with shields and batons, spilled out, yelling and charging at me.
I turned, almost skidding over, and raced away.
The street exploded in brilliant lights, throwing my shadow along the footpath ahead of me as I bolted away. Behind me I could hear thudding feet.
‘Stop! Police! Stop!’
Head down, I scrambled away, my feet sliding on the footpath in the light drizzle that had just started. I had walked straight into a trap! I didn’t know who had betrayed me and I didn’t have time to work it out. Griff had disappeared, and that’s what I needed to do too.
I pounded back down the road, heading towards the city lights, away from Dr Leporello’s street and the riot police.
I could hear them on their radios behind me, giving instructions, shouting orders. I knew that within seconds they could have more police at the other end of the lane–that I was in danger of being hemmed in, with cops behind me and cops ahead.
Shockingly, a loud noise above me filled my ears and the road ahead lit up. Just beyond the approaching intersection hovered a police helicopter, its spotlight shining as brilliant as the sun.
A narrow lane, blocked to traffic with a couple of concrete barriers, offered only a little protection, but I flung myself over.
Crouched behind some garbage bins in the lane, I peered around and watched the road. The sound of the helicopter was deafening. Its light swept over the road that I’d just left, moving over the footpath and parked cars. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. Police cars whizzed past, followed by riot cops on foot.
‘Search that lane!’ someone yelled, so I jumped up, sending rubbish flying, racing away, and praying I wouldn’t meet a dead end.
‘There he is!’
I finally reached the end of the lane and made a right-hand turn, almost falling as I did. The roar of the chopper came closer and I flattened myself against the walls of terrace houses, hoping to stay out of sight. It seemed as if the helicopter had overshot me, but I couldn’t be sure. The ground forces knew my position, so I ran again.
My legs were shaking and I was starting to feel aches and pains all over.
Desperate for somewhere to hide, I realised there was nowhere to go. In this part of town, the terraced houses were built straight onto the footpath–there weren’t any yards or gardens or side passages to run down.
I could hear the sirens wailing towards me and the search seemed to be coming closer. The helicopter had turned and was swinging back in my direction!
A truck that had been parked on the street just ahead of me, facing the city, suddenly gunned into life. The passenger door opened, flapping as the vehicle moved along the street.
More riot police?
There was nothing I could do. Nowhere to go.
I was totally trapped.
Then I heard a voice from the truck yelling: ‘Get in, dude! Hurry up!’
‘Boges?’
‘Just get in! Now!’ he screamed. A pair of hands stretched out from behind the open door. ‘Run!’
I didn’t wait a moment longer. I ran for the truck, and in seconds had caught up to it, running alongside the opening where my friend was anxiously prepared to help pull me in.
Riot cops pounded along the footpath in a side lane not far from me now.
‘Jump in!’ Boges shouted. ‘Quick, before anyone sees you!’
With a final burst of energy, I launched myself sideways, getting a foot into the truck and grabbing onto Boges. He wrenched me in with awesome strength and the wildly swinging door slammed shut behind me. This was unbelievable!
‘Let’s go!’ he shouted to the driver. The truck accelerated and sped away from my pursuers. Boges shuffled along th
e seat to make room for me. I twisted around to see what was happening behind us, and saw a group of riot cops appear from an adjoining lane. They all stopped in the intersection, looking up and down the street, not knowing where I’d gone.
I had been saved in the nick of time by my best buddy.
‘Boges,’ I gasped, panting for breath. ‘You are the best!’
‘I know,’ chuckled my modest friend. ‘But we’re not out of trouble just yet!’
I leaned forward and looked across at the determined dark-haired driver hunched over the wheel.
‘Sharkey!’
‘I had word you were meeting Leporello,’ he explained, ‘and I just came along to make sure everything went smoothly.’
‘Good move!’ I said. ‘So I guess you’ve met my friend Boges,’ I said, wondering when they’d been in contact.
Sharkey madly wrenched the steering wheel, turning a corner, sending us reeling in the cabin. I reached for my seatbelt.
‘Where should I take you two?’ he said, veering again to the left, this time to avoid a couple of squad cars screeching up the lane. They took no notice of the truck or its occupants–they were looking for a fugitive on foot!
‘Can you take us to the southern end of the city near Central Station?’ I asked. Only a few streets away from that spot were the disused railway yards and the big culvert where I had once taken refuge.
‘Sure thing. So did you get anything from Dr Leporello?’
‘A number I’m supposed to call.’
Sharkey nodded.
‘Should he call it?’ asked Boges.
‘Someone’s alerted the police to your position, but I feel confident the number you’ve been given will be legit. Ma Little’s not known for playing games, at least not ones that involve riot police and helicopters. I suggest you keep out of sight for a couple of hours, and in that time call the number. Let me know how you go, and then we should get together and come up with a plan of attack.’
I looked at Boges to see if he wanted to join us.
August Page 8
