The Case of the Disappearing Corpse

by June Whyte

  A young guy in black jeans and black tee-shirt, looking more like a high-school football star than a mean, side-winding, two-bit, sneaky crook, stared back at me.

  For a moment, as recognition dawned, I felt a sense of joyful relief. Then I zeroed in on the gun and realized it was pointed straight at my head. Disappointment was like being whacked in the stomach with an iron bar.

  “Constable Roberts?” My voice cracked into little pieces as I said his name. This couldn’t be happening. Scary things like this only happened in books or movies—and always to other people.

  “But why?” I croaked. “You’re supposed to be one of the good guys.”

  “And what do good guys get out of life?” He sneered. “Hard work and poor pay. That’s all. This little caper will earn me more money than I’d earn in ten years on the police force.”

  I found myself staring at a face harder and more lethal than a sharp jagged rock. There was no sign of goodness in Nick Roberts now. What happened to the nice looking cop with the twinkle in his eye?

  “But I liked you,” I bleated. “And Tayla thought you looked cute.”

  Sam guffawed. “Yeah. Cute as a man-eating shark.”

  Nick turned on Sam. “Shut your face, clown. I told you to trick the brat into giving you the microfilm—and what have you done—brought three kids to the wharf.” Clearing his throat he spat noisily on the ground. “Take them into the office with the other brat and tie them up while I work out what to do.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Sam. “Don’t blow a fuse.”

  “And for God’s sake get the microfilm from her. Or do I have to do everything myself?”

  “Everything?” Sam’s stomach bounced off the edge of a forty-four gallon drum as he flung himself forward to push us through the doorway. “You didn’t kill my mate, did you? Ya gave me that dirty job.”

  “Frank grew greedy. He had to go. And no-one but you could have got close enough to stab him.” Nick’s lip curled into a grim reaper smile. “Hey, enough of this soap opera drama. Get the kids into the office.”

  Sarah grabbed for my hand. It felt cold, yet sweaty. I grabbed back, thankful for the contact as we were herded into the warehouse. Our feet echoed eerily in the silence and the dark threatened to smother us; making it hard to breathe, hard to walk. My legs were so shaky they threatened to give away from under me.

  Not much bigger than our laundry at home, the “office” was lit by a globe that cast more shadow than light and made the room as welcoming as a graveyard. The furniture consisted of a scarred table, an old metal filing cabinet, and three wooden chairs. Tayla, her arms and legs bound with rope, slumped in the chair nearest the door.

  “Tayla!” I cried, rushing forward. “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

  Her answer was too soft to hear. I’d never seen Tayla look so shocked. For a moment her eyes lit up when she saw me, then they went dull again.

  “Give me the microfilm,” Sam demanded, his expression ugly.

  “What if I lost it on the way over here?” My defiant mouth said these words while my heart skittered up into my throat.

  “Cha—give it to him. Please.”

  Sarah’s cry and Sam’s fist hit me in the face at the same time, sending me reeling against the corner of the table. Yellow stars swum before my eyes as I shook my head and wiped the blood from my mouth.

  “I’ll repeat it one more time, kid. And if I don’t get the right answer I’ll call Nick in here. He’ll shoot off all your fingers—one at a time.” He paused while my nervous fingers shook so hard I had trouble reaching for the string around my neck. “So what’s it to be?”

  I untied the string, put the pink handkerchief in my pocket and handed him the small cartridge. How I wished I’d never looked in Patsy’s pocket.

  The bones in my legs felt like they’d melted and were refusing to hold me up. I slumped onto one of the empty chairs and touched my sore mouth with the tip of one finger. I needed a plan.

  Sam pulled two lengths of rope from inside the filing cabinet. After tying Sarah to one chair he began attaching me to the other.

  “Can I ask you something, Sam?” I asked as he looped the rope around my wrists.

  His only answer was to pull the rope a fraction tighter.

  Call it stubbornness or confusion or just plain P.I. orneriness. I had to know. “Why did you shift Frank’s body?”

  “Dunno what ya talking about,” he grunted, bending to tie my ankles to the chair legs. “Now shut up or I’ll plug your mouth with a gag.”

  After tying the rope so tight it was digging into my flesh, he stood, flexed his fingers and looked around the room. Then he began to snigger.

  “Hey, look at that fierce guard dog of yours.”

  Leroy was under the table, stretched out on his back, legs in the air, fast asleep.

  “Wooohooo!” Sam sneered. “Ya dog’s got me trembling in me boots.” Still chuckling he left the room and shut the door behind him.

  All I could hear was the loud thumping of my heart, Leroy’s snores and the wailing sound of either a fire engine or an ambulance fading away in the distance.

  Already the ropes were biting into my skin. My shoulders were telling me they weren’t happy with the shape they’d been forced into behind the chair. And I felt so guilty about dragging Sarah and Tayla into this mess that I couldn’t look at them.

  Tasting blood, I licked my swollen lips and forced myself to speak.

  “Tayla, I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

  She grunted.

  Taking that as “apology accepted,” I continued. “How did they trick you into coming here?”

  Tayla’s voice was so soft I had to strain to hear her. “Sam said he had something to show us and that you were already here waiting for me.”

  “How did he find you?”

  “I was coming out of the mall after school and he was waiting there in the van.” She sniffed loudly and looked ready to cry. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to get in the van with him.”

  “You think you’re stupid. What about me? I let Sarah talk me into letting her come too. Now we’re all in the poo.”

  Sarah was sitting rigid in the chair opposite me, her face pale, her Princess-like hair in uncharacteristic tangles. She stuck out her lower lip.

  “I would’ve followed you anyway,” she said. “Why should you have all the adventures?”

  “Some adventure, eh?” I rolled my eyes at her.

  “Chiana,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, her lips trembling as her bravado began to fade. “Do you reckon we’ll get out of this alive?”

  The way the bottom was falling out of my stomach I had my doubts.

  Nineteen

  Sarah’s face was the color of scone dough. Her mouth was open in a permanent O—as though she were drowning in her own fear.

  “Of course we’re getting out of here alive,” I declared, in what I hoped was a super-confident voice. “So don’t you go all soggy on me or I swear I’ll tell Mum it was you who put the spider in her underwear drawer. Jack will rescue us. You can bet on it.”

  “Hmmm…” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Everything’s cool,” I continued. “Sam and Nick have the microfilm.”

  “But we can identify them,” moaned Tayla, her face a similar color to Sarah’s.

  “So what? They’ve got what they wanted. They’re not going to hang around,” I said. “My guess is Frank was a spy, filmed the plans of a highly secret weapon to sell to a foreign country, Nick and Sam found out, Frank wouldn’t share the loot with them, so they killed him.”

  By the way both girls’ eyes grew larger and more fearful I figured my theory wasn’t making them feel any better. Okay. I wasn’t ready for a chorus of Santa Claus is Coming to Town either but one of us had to stay positive.

  “Does anyone know where we are?” Tayla wriggled in her chair and when her teeth gritted in pain, I figured her bonds were as tight as mine. Every movement sent the
rope digging more deeply into soft flesh. “Does Jack know we’re here?”

  Sarah sniffed. “His mobile was switched off so Cha left a message.”

  “Hey, no worries, Jack will find us,” I promised. “As soon as he hears my message he’ll throw on his amour, jump on his trusty bicycle and pedal to our rescue. Any minute now—”

  Thuuuump!

  A muffled thud sounded outside the office door. This was followed by a crash and some highly colorful four letter words that could have stripped paint from a car body.

  Next minute the door flew open and Jack, minus amour, but wearing his favorite Port Power bomber jacket, tumbled into the room. Head first. Long arms, legs, and gangly body following.

  Behind him came Sam. Grumpy as…

  “You’ve turned this into a bloody birthday party,” he yelled, his black glare making my bowels go a bit iffy. “How many more invites did you send out to your mates?”

  I answered before Sarah or Tayla could blow Jack’s cover.

  “Hey, I’ve never seen this boy before in my life.”

  At that, Leroy the loveable scrambled to his feet. With a bark of joy at meeting an old friend, he threw himself at Jack’s feet, rasping tongue at the ready.

  Well done, Leroy.

  “Don’t know him, eh?” Sam growled, reaching for another length of rope.

  Every freckle stood out against Jack’s white face as he steadied himself against the table. Blood seeped from a cut above his eye.

  “Sorry,” he said, his wobbly grin a ghost of its usual self. “I tried to stay hidden but Cha forgot to tell me what the bad guys looked like. I ran smack into this one.”

  Now all we could hope for was that Mum poked her head in my room and saw the note pinned to my pillow.

  Tied to the chair, unable to move, unable to take a deep breath without my lungs crying out for more air, I was close to freaking out. I wanted to scream. Beg Sam to set us free.

  “You!” barked Sam, yanking Jack roughly toward him. “On the ground.”

  Jack struggled against his attacker but I could see Nick leaning against the door jamb, gun trained around the vicinity of Jack’s fingers.

  Oh no!

  Gasping for breath I yelled a warning but all I could get out was hnnnnhhhh instead of Do as he says, Jack! In desperation I shook my head, using my eyes to plead with Jack not to make a fuss. Not to risk losing his fingers.

  Like a balloon leaking air, Jack sank onto the cement floor, and within minutes Sam had him trussed like a turkey dinner—and looking just as uncomfortable.

  My gaze fell on the guy dressed in black leaning against the door, his finger still playing with the gun trigger. Nick’s eyes, snake-cold, met mine. He stared at me until I had to look away. How could this be the same guy who joked with me, called me ‘devil’s spawn’ on the way to the mall? I sniffed and forced a threatening tear to remain right where it was—behind my eyeball. No way was I going to let this guy see me cry.

  At last Nick’s gun hand dropped to his side.

  “Let’s check outside, man,” he said. “See if The Intrepid has arrived yet.”

  “Should have been here fifteen minutes ago.”

  “If that boat doesn’t turn up soon we’ll have to fix your ‘mistakes’ before we leave.”

  The door closed behind them and their voices grew softer.

  Fix…Sam’s…mistakes?

  Surely he didn’t mean…

  Oh no!

  My nerves, fluttering like moths in a jar, did a sudden dive into that black bottomless hollow deep in the pit of my stomach.

  Twenty

  “Geez!”

  Jack rolled and kicked and twisted and wriggled until with a final grunt he lay still. Evidently finding it impossible to loosen the ropes he let out a king-size sigh.

  “I should have gone straight to the cops instead of playing boy detective,” he groaned his breath still rough from struggling.

  “Now we’re all going to die,” moaned Sarah.

  Jack cranked his head to look at the speaker of these gloomy words, then frowned and regarded me with raised eyebrows.

  “What’s Sarah doing here?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  I shook my head then glared at the party pooper.

  “Stop moaning, Sarah and let me think. If we’re going to escape—we need a plan.”

  “Yeah, cool it!” Tayla gave my stepsister a double-whammy, hot-daggers scowl. “Cha’s thinking of an escape plan.” She looked across at me and her voice went a bit wobbly. “Aren’t you, Cha?”

  “Definitely.” I put on my thinking face. “It just might take me a minute. Or three.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, and flipped her hair.

  “In case you haven’t noticed Chiana—we’re all tied up here. Who do you think you are, The Amazing Houdini?”

  Now that sounded more like my stepsister, Sarah.

  Ignoring her as though she hadn’t spoken, I turned to Jack.

  “How did you get the cut over your eye?”

  “Ran into the fat guy’s knuckle-duster, didn’t I?”

  “Don’t suppose you saw any boats coming into the Port?” asked Tayla, her voice scratchy.

  “Nope. Not while I was snooping around, anyway.”

  “Sarah’s right,” Tayla whimpered. “If the boat doesn’t come soon, we’re dead.”

  “Not you too, Tay. Come on, we’re getting out of here. I promise.”

  “Nick’s going to shoot us.”

  “Rubbish!” snapped Jack, looking as positive as he could from his awkward position on the floor. “Tayla…did Cha give those two slimy buckets-of-spit the microfilm?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, there you go.” Jack tried to shrug his shoulders and fell flat on his face. He rolled onto his back again before continuing. “Why would they be interested in us now? I bet the only reason they killed Frank was because he wouldn’t give them the film.”

  “But why shift the body and then bring it back?” I persisted, the unsolved piece of the jigsaw still bugging me. “Sam says it wasn’t him.”

  “And you believed that mangy dog?”

  It looked for a moment like Jack was going to spit in disgust, then realized it would probably end up down the front of his jacket, so changed his mind.

  “I’ve got it!” I said. A mind-boggling fabulous idea had leapt into my head at the mention of the word dog. “Jack…you and Leroy are going to get us out of here.”

  “We are?” A small tick was starting to flutter around Jack’s jaw line.

  “Definitely.” I said again and grinned. “Just tell Leroy you’ve got Tim Tams.”

  “Whaaat?” His expression said it all. “Have you gone and lost the bell from your bike, Cha?”

  “Just do it. Keep promising Leroy Tim Tams and he’ll chew through the rope.”

  “You’re kidding me…right? This is Leroy we’re discussing here? The same Leroy who sleeps through storms, train crashes and Freddy Krueger movies?”

  “It might be our only chance of escape.”

  “Just do it, Jack.” Tayla had come to life again, her voice sounding stronger and more positive.

  Sarah sat up straighter and grinned.

  “Hey, this could work! I’m sorry, Cha, you’re a genius. Stop wasting time, Jack and do as my sister says.”

  I grinned back at my unexpected ally. Hadn’t realized she’d seen Leroy at work. The little snoop must have been spying on me.

  “Okay, okay, don’t get your sneakers in a snarl.” Jack tried to shake his head but tumbled onto his face again.

  He gave one almighty wriggle to get onto his side, almost squashing Leroy’s licking tongue. Then, talking in a good dog voice, and promising mountains of Tim Tams, Jack squirmed until his wrists pointed in the direction of Leroy’s teeth.

  With a couple of slimy licks, Leroy began chewing on the rope.

  “Good boy, Leroy.” I said.

  “It’s working,” said Jac
k.

  “Go, Leroy!”

  “Once you’re loose, Jack, untie me and I’ll go ring the police while you lot barricade yourselves in here. That way they won’t know I’m missing.”

  Jack’s voice floated up from the floor. “They took my mobile away and threw it in the river before dragging me in here. Did they take yours?”

  “It’s in my bike basket under Leroy’s blanket.”

  From the other side of the room, Tayla said, “But why can’t we all escape?”

  “I’m with Tayla. I don’t want to stay in this hole a minute longer than necessary,” said Sarah.

  “Cha’s got a better chance of sneaking out if she’s on her own,” Jack assured them. “Anyway, if the bad guys thought we’d all escaped—they’d bolt.”

  “So?” Tayla didn’t seem too fazed by that scenario.

  “The police might arrive too late to catch them. This way, by the time they bust the door down, the police will have surrounded the wharf.”

  “Guess so,” agreed Tayla reluctantly.

  “Hey, I can’t feel Leroy’s slime any more,” yelped Jack trying unsuccessfully to look around. “Can anyone see what he’s doing?”

  Oh! Uh!

  Our squashy nosed champion had drifted off to sleep in mid-chew.

  “Pssst. Leroy!” I tried to buck my chair across the room and came close to tipping over backwards. Leroy opened one eye. “Tim Tams.” His tail thumped. “Untie the knot.”

  With a mighty heave, Leroy stood up on his bandy legs, gave me a hopeful grin, then fastened his teeth around Jack’s ropes again.

  “Go for it,” urged Jack.

  “Hurry,” said Sarah.

  I saw Leroy’s rear end start to grow heavy again.

  “Do this for us, Leroy and you can have a whole packet of Tim Tams all to yourself.”

  “A packet of cream caramel fudge Tim Tams,” offered Sarah.

  I grinned my thanks. “Or what about gourmet Double Choc.”

  “Stop it.” Jack moaned and rolled his eyes. “You’re making me hungry.”

  “What about Peppermint Tim Tams?” suggested Tayla.

  “Or Originals?” I added.

  “Hey, he’s done it!” Jack sat up, his grin flashing a victory sign as he rubbed life back into his wrists. “Who’d have thought that furry garbage-can had it in him?”