by Ivan Brett
“You see?” said Daisy. “She had scratches all over her arms.”
“Well then, she’s got Cuddles.” Lamp clicked his fingers and started in her direction.
“No, Lamp.” Daisy grabbed the neck of his boiler suit before he got away and tugged him back. “I’m just saying that we can’t jump to conclusions.”
“I love you,” said Lamp, staring into Daisy’s soft green eyes.
There was an awkward pause. Lamp had a bite of his boiled egg.
“Suppose you’re right, Daisy,” said Casper, hastily filling the gap. “It’s just that Anemonie does all the evil stuff around here. And anyway, it fits. We know Le Chat’s going to have scratches, we know she’s a she, and—”
“Do we?” Daisy sounded surprised. “How?”
“We… err… oh, dear.” Casper knew he’d rumbled himself. He’d have to tell her now. “We went looking for Le Chat last night. We found him, I mean her, but she stole Cuddles.”
Daisy took a minute to take it all in. “But… that’s great! You mean you’ve seen Le Chat? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t want everyone to know we broke the curfew.”
“I’m not everyone, Casper,” Daisy smiled comfortingly. “You can trust me. So what did she look like?”
“It was very dark, but she’s definitely a lady. We didn’t see much more than that.”
“Oh, well, it’s a start. Now we don’t have to bother about questioning the men.”
“S’pose so,” said Casper.
Daisy flicked back her hair. “All we need to do is interview every woman we can find, look for scratches and see whose story doesn’t match up. Lamp, we’ll use your Bluff Boiler to check who’s lying. Then we’ll find the culprit, retrieve Cuddles and the sword and be home for dinner.”
Lamp grinned at Daisy. “I love dinner.”
“Still think it’s Anemonie, though,” said Casper.
Daisy shook her head. “Even if it is, we’ve got to run a full investigation. Let’s do this properly, Casper.”
“OK. But first we’re going to need some more eggs.”
So the three set off on their investigation, via Lamp’s garage for another couple of dozen eggs. The sun rose higher in the sky, sweat sprang from boiling brows, and the backs of their necks scorched like frazzled bacon. But they had a job to do. Casper asked the questions, Daisy looked for scratches and Lamp was in charge of the eggs. Progress was as slow as the day was hot, and Lamp kept dodging from shadow to shadow and asking for a sit-down. They tramped from house to house, Bluff Boiler whirring away, interviewing every female they found. They’d thank them kindly, bid them goodbye and then crack the Bluff-Boiled eggs on the front gate to check for fibs. This is what they found:
• Clemmie Answorth was grazed and bruised all down one side. However, she makes a habit of falling off chairs, horses and aeroplanes, and thus collects bruises like Audrey Snugglepuss collects speeding fines. She spent yesterday evening at the bottom of a well after losing her balance when making a wish. As they left, Clemmie demonstrated her clumsiness by falling out of a window. Her egg was raw.
• Joan Oatcakes’ clothes were in tatters, but she put this down to the family of ravenous clothes’ moths staying in her spare room. Casper suggested mothballs, but Joan said she was a vegetarian. Her evening had been spent in the spare room with a fly swatter and a moth cloth. Her egg was also raw.
• Amanda Candlewacks was found digging up her front garden, still losing at hide-and-seek and (understandably, for Cuddles’s mother) covered in Cuddly wounds. This made Lamp very suspicious, but Casper reminded him of the family connection. They decided not to tell her about the ransom note, as her poor nerves wouldn’t take it. Yet again, the egg was raw.
• Village gossip Audrey Snugglepuss had a black eye and a couple of missing teeth. She’d “fallen over dozens of times looking for that stupid sword in the dark the night it was stolen, thank you very much”. She also mentioned that she despised Cuddles and wouldn’t let that little rat anywhere near her antique collection of speeding fines – so it couldn’t have been her. Lamp thought that because her name had ‘puss’ in it, she was a very likely suspect for a cat burglar. Her egg, however, was raw.
• Sandra Landscape (Sandy’s wife) kept a hive of biting bees that require constant supervision and tooth-clipping. Raw.
• Bernice Sideboard’s rugby match had turned ugly, but not as ugly as Bernice was, all covered in stud marks and rugby-ball-shaped bruises. Raw.
• Marjorie Mildew had had a painful encounter with a faulty set of battery-powered dentures, for which Lamp apologised and offered to make her some more. Raw, raw, raw.
As the baking sun melted into afternoon, Casper, Daisy and Lamp approached the final house of the village – Blight Manor. It stood alone at the end of Long Lost Drive, set apart from its neighbouring houses like the smelly man on a bus. A gravel path curled up through browned lawns to a looming, decrepit mansion with crumbling grey walls and mainly boarded-up windows. Black and rotten ivy drooped languidly from the stone buttresses, overlooking a gnarled tree stump sitting sullenly amongst a patch of bristling gorse. There was no birdsong, no flowers and the air was colder. Casper felt a shiver run down his spine.
“Who lives here then?” Daisy felt the need to whisper.
“Anemonie,” chorused the boys.
The three of them crunched timidly up the broad drive, each experiencing that tingling sensation you get when being watched. Sure enough, Casper peered up to a second-floor window and flinched as he caught sight of the sharp skeletal face of Anemonie Blight. She squinted menacingly at Casper and then darted back into the shadows.
“Lamp, get the Bluff Boiler started,” said Casper.
With a trembling hand, Lamp placed his last egg on the Bluff Boiler’s dish and gulped. “Can we go home now?”
At about fifteen paces from the house, the great black door creaked open and the imposing gaunt figure of Mrs Blight stepped out from the darkness, scowling like a razor-beaked vulture. She wore all black save for a heavy swab of violet lipstick on her pursed lips, matching the bulbous purple wart on her pointy nose. “Take your business elsewhere, Candlewacks.” She stepped out fully on to the porch and closed the door behind her.
“We just want to ask you some questions, Mrs Blight; that’s all,” Casper gulped.
“Not interested. Get off my drive.” She inspected her three visitors through narrowed eyes, and then with a silent laugh her glare settled on Daisy. “Helping them solve the case, Miss Blossom?”
“We-we just want to know where you were last night,” Daisy stammered.
“Why, what happened last night?” Mrs Blight’s purple lips curled into a daring smile.
“Le Chat stole Cuddles.”
Her eyes swept towards Casper. “And Cuddles was tucked up in bed, was she?”
That look she was giving him… she knew about last night! But Casper couldn’t lie or he’d boil the egg no matter what she said. “Where else would she be?” he answered more bravely than he felt.
“Oh, I don’t know. It just seems strange that Le Chat would come all the way to—”
“You’re Le Chat, aren’t you?” Casper’s blood pounded, his courage returning.
“Of course I’m not,” Mrs Blight simpered. “And neither’s my Nemmie, before you ask.”
Casper’s skin prickled. “We know you’ve got Cuddles.”
“You think you know everything, little boy.” Mrs Blight wrinkled her nose. “Well, you don’t. I’m not Le Chat, but might I suggest you look a little closer to home?” With a sweep of her jet-black dress she whisked round and strode back into her house, slamming the door behind her.
“I hate that woman.” Casper’s face was still crimson with anger.
“Me too,” said Daisy, deep in thought.
“Ooh! The Bluff Boiler.” Lamp grasped the egg and cracked it on the side of the pan. A slimy glob of white dribbled down and dripped to the floor. �
��It’s raw,” he said, eyes wide.
“But…” Casper searched for more words to say, but they were all hiding.
“So it’s not the Blights?” said Daisy.
“Can’t be,” said Lamp. “My Bluff Boiler works perfectly.”
Casper clutched his head. Every egg had come out raw. The whole village was telling the truth and nobody was Le Chat. “What now?”
Daisy shrugged. “Time for tea?”
Casper flicked a straggle of sweaty hair out of his face and fanned himself with a hand. “So we’ve lost. We don’t know who it is.”
Daisy looked worried. “It has to be someone. We’ll ask around again tomorrow, OK?”
“I was so sure it was Anemonie or her mum.”
Lamp was scuttling behind, desperate to catch up. “Daisy, Daisy, I made you a present.” He proudly handed her a leftover boiled egg.
“That’s beautiful, thank you.” Daisy smiled and took the egg, holding it awkwardly with two fingers. “I’ll save it for later.”
Lamp grinned and adjusted his boiler suit.
It was late afternoon, but the scorching day had hardly cooled. The village seemed to sag under the stifling heat like an old mattress. Casper’s investigation had been as unsuccessful as the day was hot, and he hoped never to see another egg again in his life.
“Hello there, sonny Jim. Found us that sword yet?” The willowy figure of Headlock Bones clambered out of a bush in Betty Woons’s front garden and strutted into the road to block their path.
With a grunt and a rustle of leaves, his burly sidekick, Wartson, tumbled out after him, covered in mud and sticks and a disgruntled grasshopper.
Lamp clung to Daisy’s arm. “Who are those men and what were they doing in that bush?” he asked a little bit too loudly.
“They’re bullies,” said Casper.
“Oh, we’re worse than that. We’re your worst nightmare, sonny Jim.” Headlock Bones’s lip curled as he doffed his deerstalker hat at Lamp.
“My name’s actually Lamp, sir, not Jim.”
“I know what your name is. We’ve been following you all day.”
Lamp gulped.
“Now,” – he took his time, drawing slowly on his pipe – “who’s going to tell me where I can find that sword?”
“We don’t have it.” Casper’s voice came out all quavery.
“Oh, I’m quite confident you don’t. But you’re getting close, aren’t you?”
“What about my hat, boss?” snarled Wartson, waving around the flattened black cloth that used to be his bowler hat. “I sat on it in the bush.”
“Oh, Wartson, what a shame.” Headlock Bones’s eyes narrowed. “I bet one of these chaps could lend you a shilling for a new one.”
Wartson turned to face Casper with a rotten-toothed grin. “Gimme your money or I’ll thump ya.” His knuckles cracked threateningly.
“Haven’t got any.” Casper stepped back, trembling.
“Don’t lie.” Wartson crunched forward. “What’s in those pockets?”
Daisy jumped into Wartson’s path and struck a frosty face. “Leave us alone.”
Wartson faltered. Nobody had spoken to him like that since Mash-faced Mick back in ’86 (and we all know what happened to him). With a snarl Wartson raised his clenched fist, but Daisy met his glare.
“You wouldn’t dare hit a girl.”
Stunned, Wartson dropped his fist. He blinked, then stumbled backwards.
“Thought not.” Daisy strutted straight between the two men, followed by the two dumbfounded boys.
Moments later the spell broke. “Oy!” roared Headlock Bones. “Come back here, you scallywags!”
“Run!” Daisy led the three as they sprinted towards the square, hotly pursued by Bones and Wartson.
“How’d you do that?” Casper gasped, trying to keep pace with Daisy.
“Doesn’t matter right now. Just keep running.”
Hundreds of detectives stood in the square, watching vacantly as the three children dashed towards Blossom’s Bloomers.
“HEY, EVERYONE,” bellowed Terry, smashing two windows and deafening a pigeon, “SUSPECTS!”
A stampede of idiots armed with magnifying glasses turned, gasped and trampled across the square in Casper’s direction.
“We’ve got trouble,” groaned Daisy.
The herd grew closer, gathering speed as it went.
“I’m too young to be squashed,” Lamp’s voice trembled.
The oncoming idiot storm was only metres away now. Casper’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape. Then, just at that moment, Headlock Bones and Wartson marched into the square, red-faced and furious.
“Look!” Casper yelled, “There’s Le Chat!”
The herd screamed and swerved towards the newcomers, stampeding away from the three and brushing past Lamp’s shoulder with only a few centimetres to spare.
Headlock Bones and Wartson stopped in their tracks, terrified. The clueless amateur detectives charged towards them, and now they’d gathered momentum they didn’t look much like stopping. Headlock Bones’s jaw fell open, his pipe clattering to the ground. He tried to shield himself behind Wartson, but found only fresh air – his gallant henchman was already halfway back down the road, screaming like a black pudding in a vampire novel. Headlock took one more look at the advancing sleuth army and scarpered in the same direction as his friend. The herd disappeared after them, yelling nonsensical war cries and lobbing hopeful pairs of handcuffs.
Within the blink of an eye the square was empty except for Casper, Lamp and Daisy, and a deaf pigeon wondering where his new friends had gone.
“Wow.” Lamp wiped his brow. “That was close.”
Casper laughed. “Got rid of both our problems, though, didn’t it?”
With the coast clear, Daisy led the boys into Blossom’s Bloomers. Through a door at the back of the shop was a dingy corridor, and this took them out, blinking, into a conservatory so impossibly beautiful that Casper had to pinch himself – and even that didn’t convince him. A breathtaking array of vibrant and tropical plants climbed from floor to ceiling, weaving in and out of each other like green spaghetti and bursting into bloom wherever they could. The early evening light streamed in through the glass roof, bathing the foliage in a warm golden glow. Casper’s nostrils were bombarded by the fragrant cocktail of sweet nectars and petals; his ears were serenaded by the tuneful twitterings of tiny birds. In the centre of the room stood a trestle table, wrought-iron legs entwined with creepers, and four chairs, one occupied by the ravishingly beautiful Lavender Blossom.
“Come on in, for goodness’ sake,” she sang, patting the chair next to her. “What’s all that commotion out there, anyway?”
“You’ll never believe us,” chuckled Daisy, picking pigeon feathers from her hair.
Dreamily, Casper made his way to the nearest chair and sat down, dazzled by the light and bewitched by the surroundings.
Lamp plonked himself on the next chair with his mouth agape. Steadily, he leant towards Casper and whispered, “Is this heaven?”
Casper shrugged.
“Mum, we’ve been investigating.”
“Really?” Lavender’s eyes twinkled as she laughed. “Who’s the culprit, then?”
“I wish I knew,” said Casper.
“Ah, me too. I’ve had people at my door all day, and none of them have a clue. If you work it out, you’re a brighter spark than I am, Casper.”
“Well,” he blushed. “It’s just that…” He didn’t mean to tell her anything, but before he could stop himself the whole story tumbled out like a mouthful of baby squirrels, with the occasional pause for breath while Lamp interjected with his own side of the tale. Meanwhile, Daisy had slipped off for a moment and reappeared with a large primrose teapot filled with chamomile tea. She poured out four cups, stirred each with a teaspoon of honey and passed them round the table. Then there was sponge cake, apricot brownies and sweet walnut loaf with generous dollops of raspberry jam. Lavend
er listened intently, nodding and laughing gracefully, placing a motherly hand on Casper’s during the sad bits.
“…So basically, we don’t know.” By the time Casper had finished his story he was full to bursting and exhausted, and Lamp had fallen asleep on his shoulder.
“Well,” chuckled Lavender, “no wonder he’s tired.”
Casper looked at his watch. Six o’clock. “Poor Mum. I haven’t told her what happened. She still thinks it’s a game of hide-and-seek.”
Lavender lent Casper a second comforting hand. “Break it to her gently. Goodness knows how I’d feel if I lost my Daisy.”
Casper sighed. “I don’t even want the sword any more, if it means getting Cuddles back.”
“You’re right,” said Lavender. “One sword’s worth nothing compared to your baby sister. The villagers should agree to Le Chat’s terms if they have an ounce of sense.”
“But all they want is their sword. They’re all scared of Cuddles.”
“You have to convince them. Show them you need your sister back. They can’t hold out for ever, Casper.”
“You don’t understand – nobody listens to me.”
“Well, they should. You make more sense than the rest of this village put together. So you think they’ll never agree to Le Chat’s demands? Hmm.” Lavender reached across for a brownie, but her sleeve caught on the edge of the table, revealing a fine set of scratches on her wrist. Casper caught his breath and pretended not to notice, but Daisy had spotted his reaction.
“Oh, don’t worry about those. We’ve had a new delivery of Venus Flytraps, but we just can’t tame them.”
Lavender nodded sagely. “Awful biters, the lot of them.” She swivelled on her chair and lifted a red earthenware pot on to the table. “Here’s one.”
Casper shuddered at the sight of the monstrous plant. A thick green stalk led up to two gigantic leaves, each with a row of pink needley teeth slowly chewing the air. Daisy cut a corner off her walnut loaf and popped it into the Venus Flytrap’s mouth. It snapped shut with a Glomp! and the loaf was gone, save for one sanguine trickle of raspberry jam running down the stalk.
