Kat Wolfe Takes the Case

by Lauren St. John

  How is everything at Hamilton Park? her mum had texted.

  Fine! wrote Kat.

  And how are you getting on with your grandfather? Fine!

  Two could play at that game.

  Nurse Tina had been more forthcoming: Xena is quite the diva! Insists on sharing my pillow. As for my trainers, the left is no more. Luckily, I was planning to replace them anyway. P.S. Come home soon. Tiny misses you.

  In the Tower Room, Kat gave Harper a hug. ‘Thanks for saving me from the dragon. If you hadn’t woken me, it would have swallowed me whole.’

  Harper grinned. ‘You’re welcome. What are best friends for, if not to save each other from dragons?’

  Kat’s heart rate returned to normal. First thing in the morning, the chauffeur was due to return them to Bluebell Bay. She’d be reunited with Tiny by midday at the latest. Everything really would be fine. All she had to do was survive till then.

  She pushed back the duvet. ‘Freya told me we could help ourselves to hot chocolate from the kitchen any time. Fancy some?’

  Harper climbed out of bed. ‘Sure! I’ll come with you.’

  Kat had hoped that her grandfather would be in his study when they passed on their way to the kitchen. She really wanted to talk to him. Tiny wasn’t the only thing weighing on her mind. The missing dragon card was also bothering her . . .

  Earlier that evening, before dinner, Kat had been saying goodnight to the horses when she’d heard a cat meowing in the stable hayloft. Checking on it had been her first mistake. Her second had been not leaving once she’d spotted the hammock strung up between the beams. There was also a camping stove, tinned food, a stuffed rucksack and a pile of books on a hay bale. It was the books that were Kat’s undoing. The moment she’d spotted The Way of the Mongoose: Twenty-Five Killer Moves, she’d pounced on it.

  The Way of the Mongoose was an obscure martial art originating in Shanghai, China. Kat had spent months trying to teach herself a few of its 113 throws and blocks. All the experts were agreed that reading Killer Moves was a fast-track to becoming a Mongoose master. Unfortunately, it was out of print.

  Instinctively, Kat knew that this copy belonged to the rider of the bay horse. The mere idea that her grandfather’s protector might be a Mongoose master was thrilling beyond measure.

  But the bodyguard’s living quarters raised uncomfortable questions. Why was he banished to the stables rather than enjoying the spacious staff quarters? Did her grandfather treat his workers cruelly?

  There’d been no one else around. The head groom, James, was out feeding the sheep and had taken the dogs with him. After flipping through the book, Kat had decided to try out Killer Move 18: the ‘Butterfly Sweep’.

  As she’d fought off an imaginary assailant – taking him down by shoving his right knee with one foot while sweeping away his left ankle – the black-and-gold dragon card had flown out of her polo-shirt pocket and fallen through a gap in the hayloft floorboards. Kat had watched it land beside a water trough below. She’d replaced the book and shinned down the ladder to retrieve it.

  But the card had gone.

  Kat had stared at the concrete in disbelief. There were no similar water troughs or drains into which it could have fallen. After checking the tack room and stalls for signs of life, she’d run to the stable block entrance. The only person in sight had been a gardener pruning a wisteria near the North Wing. But unless he’d mastered time travel, he couldn’t have run across the lawn and found the card in the minute it had taken Kat to descend the ladder.

  ‘Lost something?’ James had asked, coming in with the Border collies at his heels to find Kat crawling around the stable floor.

  ‘Only Pax. I was missing her.’ Kat was unwilling to admit to losing an unidentified and possibly valuable card that didn’t belong to her. ‘Here, Pax girl. Give me a cuddle. Did you have fun with the sheep? Uh, James, were you just in here?’

  ‘Think I could have snuck in here with this lively pair without you noticing? Not likely. By the way, I’ll be away for the night staying with my mum. One of our gardeners will be taking care of Pax and Flush.’

  Kat had nodded vaguely, still thinking about the card. The most obvious thief was the bodyguard, who was adept at coming and going like a ghost. But if he’d seen the card fall, why hadn’t he called out? Why snatch it unless he knew something about the dragon card that Kat didn’t? Was it a special credit card from one of those banks that only accepted money from billionaires and famous people such as the Swanns? If it did belong to the actors or another wealthy hotel guest, would they soon find their accounts emptied out?

  ‘James, who lives in the hayloft?’ Kat had asked.

  James turned on a tap and noisily filled two buckets. ‘His Lordship invited a horse trainer he knows to come and work with our yearlings for a couple of weeks.’

  Kat found it curious that the groom was unaware that the mystery man was actually His Lordship’s bodyguard. ‘Why isn’t the trainer staying in the manor?’ she’d pressed. ‘It’s not like there’s a shortage of bedrooms.’

  ‘V doesn’t do walls,’ James said matter-of-factly.

  ‘V as in Vee? Or is V short for Vincent or Vaughan or something?’ Kat had wanted to know.

  But James, clanking away with the buckets, hadn’t answered.

  At dinner, Kat had been in a dilemma. Her grandfather had gone to great lengths to ensure that she and Harper had the best time possible at Hamilton Park. She didn’t want to ruin their last supper together by making accusations of theft against V, who’d been ready to whisk her to safety if the rabbit under the fence had, in fact, been an assassin.

  ‘Why don’t you simply describe the dragon card to your grandad and ask if he’s ever seen one like it?’ Harper had suggested. ‘That way, you’re not accusing anyone of taking it. He might say, “Oh, an estate worker handed it in,” or even recognize it as a squillionaire’s bank card, or a membership pass to a posh London club. My guess is that it’s a gift card for a shop that sells dragon toys and books. The thief will be lucky if it has five pounds on it.’

  But Kat never had the chance to raise the subject. Some crisis had erupted in the Dark Lord’s world and he’d been pulled away from the table three times before disappearing altogether.

  He’d apologized and made light of it when he came to say goodnight later. Kat hadn’t believed a word of it. If everything was so hunky dory, why were two armed guards with bulging muscles suddenly patrolling the grounds?

  Perhaps sensing her anxiety, he’d said unexpectedly, ‘You mustn’t be afraid, Kat Wolfe. Even dragons have their endings.’

  Even dragons have their endings.

  His words came back to Kat now as she and Harper stood at his study door shortly after 1 a.m. Moonlight fell on the Persian carpet, which had been moved aside. Did her grandfather have insomnia again? Had he gone to visit his Clydesdale?

  ‘Is that the trapdoor you were telling me about?’ whispered Harper. ‘I’ve never been in a secret tunnel before. Any chance I could see it? We could go to the stables and have another hunt for the dragon card.’

  Kat considered that an excellent plan. If her grandfather were there, he might take Harper to see the deer and hare too. She brought along the night-vision glasses just in case.

  But when they pushed up through the straw into Faith’s stall, the stable block was in darkness. Kat lowered the trapdoor behind them and listened. The horses were pacing and snorting uneasily, their ears flickering like radar detectors.

  If something were wrong, why weren’t the dogs barking? Then she remembered that Pax and Flush were spending the night with one of the gardeners. ‘Harper, I have a bad feeling. We should get back.’

  Harper squeezed her arm. A dark figure was passing the dusty stable window.

  They ducked down and heard nothing further. Harper gestured at the trapdoor, but Kat whispered, ‘Too risky. It squeaks. Stay here with Faith. I’ll wake the bodyguard.’

  Soundlessly, she unbolted the sta
ll door and scaled the hayloft ladder. At the top, she blinked in shock. Every trace of the bodyguard was gone. Had it not been for a stray purple striped sock, the hammock, books and camping stove might have been a figment of Kat’s imagination. She tucked the sock into her pocket as proof that she hadn’t made it all up.

  Harper was waiting at the bottom of the ladder. She steered Kat to the window. ‘Look.’

  An intruder was on the roof of the manor house, moving audaciously towards the South Wing. Three storeys below, an armed guard rounded the front of the house and strolled along the gravel path, yawning and stretching. Kat lifted the night-vision glasses. Another figure was on the roof, stalking the first. It was V, the bodyguard, she was sure of it.

  Sensing someone behind him, the intruder let fly with a roundhouse karate kick. The bodyguard countered with what Kat identified as Killer Move 10: the ‘Leaping Tiger’.

  The guard crossed the driveway below. He bent to smell a rose, oblivious to the drama unfolding on the rooftop. The fighters were so graceful, it was hard to believe they were fighting. It was more ballet than brawl. Their silhouettes were outlined against the stars, soaring, spinning and blocking.

  ‘Should we try to get the guard’s attention?’ Harper whispered.

  But he was too far away to hear them shout, and Kat was nervous that he might shoot them if they startled him. And she didn’t want to endanger V, battling on the roof.

  As the guard passed the maze and was lost to view, the intruder performed a dizzying leap off the roof and abseiled down the side of the South Wing. V, up there with no rope, watched him bolt away into the darkness.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Kat.

  Harper didn’t argue. They shot back along the secret passage and up to the Tower Room. Harper dived gratefully into her safe, warm bed. ‘Should we wake anyone?’

  Downstairs, a phone trilled, a door opened and hushed, urgent voices echoed up the stairwell.

  ‘I think we’d only be in the way,’ said Kat, wishing again that she was at home with Tiny, who protected her the way V protected her grandfather.

  Adrenalin was charging round her veins and she was sure that she’d lie awake till morning, but she was asleep in seconds with the Dark Lord’s words running through her head: ‘You mustn’t be afraid, Kat Wolfe. Even dragons have their endings.’

  At nine on the dot, they left Hamilton Park in a limousine driven by a different chauffeur, this one courteous but tight-lipped. There was no ginger beer. The bullet-proof screen that separated him from his passengers also ensured there’d be no laughs.

  As the iron gates and snarling lions faded into the distance behind them, Kat exhaled. ‘Sorry, Harper – it wasn’t quite the relaxing Downton Abbey weekend I promised.’

  ‘Are you kidding? It’s the most fun I’ve had in ages! I can’t wait to visit again . . . But what did you make of what Freya said at breakfast?’

  They’d come down to find Freya humming cheerfully over pancakes in the kitchen, Kat’s grandfather long gone.

  ‘His Lordship said to wish you both a safe trip back to Bluebell Bay. Duty called, I’m afraid.’

  Kat hadn’t been surprised. ‘A situation?’

  Freya laughed. ‘How did you guess! Sleep well?’

  Harper poured herself some orange juice. ‘Yes, thanks – although we heard some strange noises. We were scared it might be a burglar.’

  ‘No such luck,’ said Freya, putting maple syrup on the table. ‘His Lordship and I keep hoping that someone will break in and steal that dreadful painting of his grouse-shooting Great-Uncle Horace, but it hasn’t happened yet. Kat, there’s coconut yoghurt if you’d like some. No, the guards reported a peaceful night.’

  ‘Do you think Freya was lying or genuinely didn’t have the faintest idea that there’d been an intruder on the roof?’ asked Harper now, as the limo picked up speed.

  ‘She doesn’t seem the lying kind,’ said Kat, lowering the window so that Pax could watch the country lanes whip by. ‘Not unless it’s a matter of national security, which it might be. After all, someone – presumably his bodyguard – woke my grandfather and told him about it. What I’m curious about is why no alarms sounded. It would have been nice if my grandfather had come to check on us, but maybe he assumed we were OK in the Tower Room and didn’t want to worry us.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Harper said doubtfully. ‘I did enjoy myself, but I’m sort of relieved to be heading home. Life seems a lot simpler in Bluebell Bay. Or it did before the dinosaur discovery, anyway. Which reminds me, Detective Wolfe, we need to get on with our case.’

  Kat took out her notebook. ‘Why don’t we start now?’

  She wrote, ‘WHO KILLED JOHNNY?’ at the top of a page and drew two columns.

  SUSPECT MOTIVE

  Harry Holt Jealous or greedy because Johnny discovered a priceless fossil

  Rival fossil hunter Ditto

  Environment-destroying company (e.g. weed-killer makers, fox hunters, badger murderers, tree choppers) Afraid of evil deeds being exposed

  The ‘monsters’ Johnny was investigating Ditto

  ‘All we ever get is more questions,’ was Kat’s glum verdict.

  ‘We do know one thing,’ said Harper. ‘Johnny told his sister that he was investigating monsters. Not a monster. Monsters, plural. Two or more. I vote that we cross Harry off our suspect list altogether. He wouldn’t have told Edith, “They didn’t like what Johnny was doing so they put a stop to it” if he was talking about himself, would he? And, I think we’re fairly certain that the tree choppers, fox hunters or badger murderers didn’t kill Johnny. That shortens our suspect list.’

  Kat nodded. ‘I agree about the tree choppers, fox hunters and badger murderers, but Harry is still an unknown quantity. He could have been working with someone else – a fellow collector. The Fossils Forever editor made fun of Harry’s claims that Mary Anning wrote about “dragons” hidden under the cliffs at Bluebell Bay. What if, two years ago, Harry and Johnny were competing to be the first to find the Jurassic Dragon?’

  Harper said excitedly, ‘What if someone else beat them to it?’ Then, less excitedly, ‘I guess they can’t have done, because the dracoraptor was only found a week ago. But that doesn’t mean that a rival collector didn’t keep hunting for it. We need to find out if the Order of Dragons still exists. It could be a secret society like the Masons that’s gone on and on through the centuries.’

  As the limousine crossed into Dorset, Kat said, ‘Maybe we should start looking into some of the mini mysteries we keep stumbling across. One or two of them might be connected.’

  ‘Mini mysteries?’

  ‘The ones that sound like Enid Blyton novels. We have The Order of Dragons Mystery, The Disappearing Dragon Card Mystery and The Mystery of the Intruder on the Roof. Oh, and The Mystery of the Phantom Bodyguard.’

  Harper giggled. ‘Then there’s The Coded Conversation Mystery. I’m sure that’s what I overheard at Hamilton Park – government officials, or possibly visitors, talking in code. Otherwise, the stuff about striped T-shirts and white plastic carvings doesn’t make a grain of sense. And I wish I knew more about The Father and Son Mystery. The ones who were going to be eliminated when they’d outlived their usefulness.’

  Kat chewed the top of her pen. ‘Do you think that was code for something too?’

  ‘Hope so – but what if it wasn’t? The man sounded deadly serious. Do you think it’s worth reporting it to your granddad?’

  ‘Let’s see if we can find out more on our own first. You said one of the men wore blue shoelaces. We could try looking up companies that sell blue laces. Maybe they’re made by an exclusive designer shoe shop with only a few customers.’

  ‘I wish,’ Harper said wryly. ‘I did a search and got five hundred thousand results.’

  Kat closed the limousine window. Using Pax’s back as a desk, she made a circle of balloons around the edge of a page. ‘If we put names, places and clues in each of these and draw strings between th
e ones that have something in common, we might see unexpected connections.’

  ‘Smart thinking. Can you add The Mystery of Why the Swanns Are in Bluebell Bay and The Who Bought Ollie Merriweather Lobster and Champagne Mystery?’

  ‘If we also include The Mystery of Who Blew Up the Cliff and The Mystery of Who Killed Johnny Roswell, we have ten mini mysteries,’ said Kat. ‘Ten.’

  ‘Then we’d better get to work,’ Harper responded happily. ‘Mysteries don’t solve themselves!’

  By the time the limousine crested the hill above Bluebell Bay, they’d found a few connections – mostly to do with the Grand Hotel Majestic, dragons and the dinosaur. Nothing sinister leaped out at them. Kat tucked her notebook away. When she saw the sparkling cove, the clouds that had swirled around her since she’d dropped the dragon card lifted.

  Paradise House was on the outskirts of the town, so they stopped there first.

  ‘Hello, Trouble . . . and Kat!’ cried Nettie as she opened the door. ‘We’ve missed you both so much – haven’t we, Bailey?’

  The parrot flew to Harper’s shoulder and rubbed his cheek against hers, crooning, ‘Here’s looking at you, kid.’

  While Nettie made the chauffeur a coffee to go, Kat ran to the stable yard to see Charming Outlaw and Orkaan. She was taken aback when she noticed Outlaw’s bridle slung carelessly over a hook, salty with sweat and broken.

  After giving the horses treats and pats, she ran to ask the housekeeper what had happened.

  ‘Oh, about that. Ethan Swann turned up to ride on Saturday morning, not long after you and Harper left for Hamilton Park. He asked if we’d mind if he took Charming Outlaw rather than his own black mare. Said you’d been keen to persuade him that our chestnut racehorse was even faster than the horse in his last film. I didn’t think Harper would mind him riding her horse, so of course I said yes. Doesn’t he have the dreamiest blue eyes? Ethan, that is, not the racehorse.’