by Sophie Lee
Dad’s special purple paper
Microchip
Monkey, wind turbine, 23???
‘What’s so important about these monkey shoes anyway?’ asked Cheesy suddenly.
‘My dad gave them to me last year when things were going so well for him.’ Edie nibbled thoughtfully on the end of her pencil. ‘You know, at the University. He was awarded a big grant to assist him with his breakthrough discovery. He said to me, “Life couldn’t be going any better than it is right now.” The monkey shoes were a special gift to celebrate. So I thought that maybe if I could find my missing shoe he’d—’
‘Get his job back? I doubt it,’ Cheesy replied. ‘As he himself would say, that is unscientific.’
Mister Pants snorted heavily then sucked air in through his nostrils, making a vague trumpeting sound in the process.
‘Yes, boy,’ said Edie, giving him a pat.
‘Huh?’ said Cheesy. ‘You can’t really think he’s talking to you when he makes those ridiculous noises.’
Edie chose to ignore this.
‘Like I said, the shoes are . . . special. It makes me feel fluttery knowing that one is missing. Like . . . even worse things might happen to us . . .’
‘I see, they’re a sort of talisman,’ said Cheesy, who had recently been reading books about the Incas.
‘I guess,’ said Edie, putting one hand on her tummy to stop the Worries and looking back at her notes.
Pink light reflected off the page. Edie looked up and saw a large green bridge decorated with dragon faces.
‘This is it,’ she said, pressing the stop button.
Bun Fight
The entrance to Chinatown was fringed by a canopy of trees illuminated by fairy lights. Mister Pants stayed close to Edie. He was in danger of being trampled on. Two large bronze creatures with talons guarded a large red bridge, upon which was written Within The Four Seas All Men Are Brothers. Edie scribbled this down in her notebook in case it provided a clue for later.
Edie knew that it was important to follow procedure, and she didn’t want to miss a single clue. What the clues would provide was evidence and it was important that she not be sidetracked from the evidence trail.
Edie, Cheesy and Mister Pants dodged a man in a pointy hat who was trying without success to entice passing shoppers into his restaurant on this rainy evening. Just beyond his empty restaurant lay a stall with a hundred juices ready bottled in an ice bucket and a motorised miniature helicopter that flew around in circles attached to a string. The stall also sold large plastic tubs filled with mysterious powders that were labelled Pork Floss and Dried Beef.
‘Now,’ said Edie, ‘where do you suppose the Lucky Dragon is?’
She squinted up at a sign that read Furuoma Bakery beside an illustration of a snowy mountaintop. She could not hear Cheesy’s reply because suddenly they found themselves swept up in a throng of excited people of all ages. It became apparent they had unwittingly joined a queue that had quite simply gone bananas.
Buns and sweet cakes of all descriptions were flying off the bakery shelves at such a rapid rate that it occurred to Edie this was what a Bun Fight must be. She had heard her father use the term in relation to work matters and now understood why he had sounded so exasperated when he mentioned it. There just didn’t seem to be enough buns to go around.
Edie had a little money left over from the bus fare and when she was at last swept to the front of the queue she merely pointed to the bakery item that had seemed the most popular. It was a small white bun with yellow crystals on top. The shopkeeper said something very fast that she didn’t understand. Edie held her breath and handed over two of her remaining five dollars. She was rewarded with twenty cents in change and the very last bun in a brown paper bag.
Edie wrenched Cheesy from the bakery counter by her left plait, saving her from being squashed by a small man with buck teeth.
‘Phew, that was close! Now let’s see what all the fuss is about,’ said Edie, feeling slightly guilty at having been diverted from her important business by what appeared to be a confection, and also at being about to indulge in a treat her mother would frown upon.
The three of them found a small area near a rubbish bin and huddled reverently around the bun. Edie divided it into three pieces, and was surprised to see custard oozing from the centre.
‘Sit, Mister,’ she said, handing over his piece and biting into her own. Her tongue tingled and fizzed at the delightful mix of sugar, bread and custard and other unidentified chemicals. It was entirely unlike anything biodynamic or macrobiotic and Edie wondered if her bun-induced state could be described as swooning, which was something she’d read about in books about princesses. It made perfect sense that so many shoppers were desperate for this freshly baked item.
‘Yummy,’ said Cheesy.
Mister gobbled his section and hightailed it to the other side of the street, causing a street sweeper to collide with a large green dragon winking one eye.
The Lucky Dragon
That’s it! He’s found the restaurant!’ said Edie, watching as Mister Pants deftly climbed the narrow staircase behind the dragon (this doesn’t mean he did it without hearing, it just means he did it well). The dragon really did have a lucky look about him. ‘Let’s go before Mister gets into trouble.’
‘It’s a violation of the health code, though,’ said Cheesy, picking the remaining yellow crystals from her kilt and popping them on her tongue. ‘Well, what are you waiting for, Sparks? Leg it!’
Edie couldn’t help grinning as they ran to the other side of the street.
‘You know, they don’t seem to mind dogs in French restaurants. I know for a fact that they even let the French bulldogs help prepare the cuisine in the kitchen,’ she said.
‘Rubbish,’ sniffed Cheesy, panting heavily as she ran up the stairs.
‘I’ll take you to Frenchtown to prove it,’ said Edie, hurrying along behind.
Mister Pants, having reached the top of the stairs first, was now looking up at several fish that were somehow suspended above him. Edie and Cheesy joined him, catching their breath in front of the wall-to-wall tanks. The inhabitants swam restlessly in small circles. Edie observed a large grey fish with small but very sharp teeth, who looked as though he had recently received terrible news but hadn’t yet shared it with a friend. Crabs crowded beneath him, making it difficult for him to get the space he must naturally have craved.
‘Chin up,’ Edie said quietly through the tank. ‘Things will get better soon.’
‘Hardly,’ snorted Cheesy. ‘Those fish are there for a reason, you know . . .’ But before she could elaborate, they were greeted by a girl with the longest hair Edie had ever seen. She looked at them with large green eyes.
‘Table for three? Come this way!’ she said in a musical voice, gesturing for them to follow. ‘You’re lucky my dad’s not here this evening, he’d never let your dog through. Not with the trouble we’ve had here lately. Can you believe a man was robbed by a gang wearing Albert Einstein masks as he ate a serving of vegetarian spring rolls at that very table, just three days ago?’ She pointed to a table near the fish tank as she led the party of three through the restaurant, her feet jingling with every step.
Edie’s mouth opened in surprise and she raced to keep up. ‘Did she just say that a man was robbed by a gang wearing Albert Einstein masks?’ she said, clutching Cheesy’s sleeve. ‘Charisma, that man was my father! He arrived home three days ago after being robbed in broad daylight by three men disguised as Albert Einstein!’
The waitress had reached a table at the centre of the restaurant and was continuing to speak in her musical voice without seeming to draw breath.
‘. . . lovely breed, isn’t it. Do they have any problems with their breathing? Well, hopefully he’ll stay at your feet for now. Perfect! I hope this table will be okay for you, and if there’s anything you need just let me know.’
Mister Pants trotted forward in excitement, as if thrilled by all the compliments.
> ‘Yes, thank you for accommodating him,’ said Edie. ‘Sorry to hear about the, er, incident you mentioned. Could you possibly give us some further information, perhaps some indication of the height and weight of the attackers?’ Edie felt herself gaining confidence, knowing as she did the importance of eyewitness accounts in such cases. ‘You see, we are here on a rather important mission and . . . Where on earth did you get those slippers? They’re so pretty!’ Edie exclaimed, finally getting a proper look at the gorgeous creations on the waitress’s feet. They were made of ocean-coloured silk with silver bells on the toes.
‘Oh, thank you. I got them from a shoe emporium close to here,’ she said, gesturing for them to sit. ‘Shoe-Shoe-Monkey-Moon, it’s called, run by a lady who’s been around for a hundred years. I’ll write down the address.’ She paused for a moment, looking suddenly puzzled. ‘You know, you’re the second person I’ve given the address to this week. Anyway, can I bring you something to drink? Maybe after you’ve had some refreshment I could assist you with your enquiries—isn’t that what the police say in these situations?’
There was only one other diner, a man who was sitting at a table in the far corner of the restaurant. Although he kept his head down, Edie had a strange feeling that she had seen him somewhere before but could not recall where or when. His wild black hair stuck up in the air and he wore a rather odd-looking patchwork coat. Edie shook her head. Surely she would have remembered such a weird hairdo.
‘A cold drink?’ smiled the waitress. She had perfect white teeth.
‘Do you have any pink juice?’ Edie asked.
‘Coming up,’ she said, swooshing her hair to one side. ‘Guava-oh,’ she sang to the kitchen.
Edie, Cheesy and Mister Pants sat quietly in the centre of the restaurant. They could still hear the din of the bun fight below. Edie withdrew the piece of purple paper from her evidence bag and smoothed it out on the tabletop, puzzling for the hundredth time over the words that were written on it.
‘Can we actually afford to order some food?’ asked Cheesy, who by now had quite forgotten her earlier feelings of guilt over the fake science experiment. ‘I’m really rather hungry, and this menu looks delicious. See . . .’ She pointed at the photographic depictions of the dishes on offer. ‘You don’t even have to pronounce them, just pick a photo!’ she exclaimed, eyeing a frizzy bowl of noodles with a cracked egg on top. Edie herself did not find that particular image especially enticing.
‘What’s the price, I wonder?’ asked Cheesy, just as the man in the corner stood up abruptly, moved to a table closer to them and stared moodily at the fish tank.
Edie shivered. Call it intuition or good detective skills, but she was now certain this man had a place in her life, however peripheral (which is just a fancy word that means he was hovering on the edge somewhere).
‘He’s making a selection,’ whispered Cheesy, gesturing towards the tank.
‘Nonsense, those fish are not for sale,’ said Edie dismissively. ‘What do you think this is, a pet shop?’
The Fish Who Knew Too Much
Edie looked over at the fish and the fish seemed to hover, suspended, looking back at her. He was a grey fish with a boxy snout, brown eyes and a tiny mouth opening crammed with sharp white teeth. Edie supposed that the fish had what could be described as an overbite, teeth jutting upwards. Did fish have dentists? she wondered. His large eyes mesmerised her, as though his head was brimming with secrets. He seemed to draw Edie closer, although she hadn’t moved so much as a fingertip.
What did it know? What had it been able to see from its elevated position?
The fish seemed to blink meaningfully at her. Did fish blink? she wondered. It wasn’t as though they were trying to stop water getting into their eyes. The words ‘curly toes, curly feet’ floated through her mind and Edie closed her eyes for a moment, wondering why.
If only the large grey fish could speak, what it could tell the detective gang in the Lucky Dragon Restaurant might solve a very significant problem.
Purple Notepaper
‘Hey,’ said Cheesy sharply, snapping her fingers in Edie’s face.
Edie opened her eyes, returning to earth.
‘I don’t think we can afford any more than a pink juice each, so let’s make it last,’ she heard herself say. She stroked the piece of purple paper and surveyed the restaurant, squinting with the effort of concentrating. ‘Honestly, I cannot understand what would make Dad come here. He doesn’t even like Chinese food! He only likes my mum’s cooking!’
‘Really?’ Cheesy sounded sceptical (which is just a fancy way of saying she found it hard to believe that anyone could love to eat one type of food exclusively, especially macrobiotic food). As much as Cheesy enjoyed the Sparks’s biodynamic bounty, she also enjoyed cupcakes with pink icing and milkshakes that were made with real ice cream instead of soybean extracts. ‘But Edie, didn’t the waitress specifically mention spring rolls—’
‘He just loves everything about Mum,’ interrupted Edie with complete confidence.
‘Then why would he have come here?’
‘Perhaps he had to meet someone.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, it is quite close to the University, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe it’s a hot spot for the Science Department,’ said Cheesy sarcastically.
At this point the girls’ conversation was abruptly interrupted as they, and Mister Pants, found themselves being showered with their own drinks. It was no accident that the pink juices and the gold tray upon which the waitress was carrying them were at this moment colliding spectacularly with the rotating ceiling fan.
And do you know, the cause of this most dangerous collision was the only other diner in the restaurant? As the waitress returned, he’d suddenly sprung to his feet and knocked the tray from her hands, his remarkable thatch of black hair sticking up as though he’d been electrocuted then covered in glue. In the resulting confusion he’d made a play for the piece of purple notepaper, attempting to snatch it right from under Edie Amelia’s nose.
‘Jumping juniper berries, we’re under attack!’ cried Edie, scooping up her father’s handwritten note. ‘Run! Run! Run!’
Chaos in Chinatown
The fish looked on from his tank as the tall man pursued two little girls and a rather clumsy French bulldog around the restaurant. They ran round the tables and chairs in three large circles, heedless of the waitress’s pleas.
Cheesy stumbled into the corner of table eight and whinnied with pain. Edie said prayers that she would not reopen her old Bouncy Log wound.
Both the girls’ clothes were wet with the pink juice, whose origin was the exotic Indonesian guava fruit. The gold tray, having ricocheted off the fan, had bounced off the tall man’s forehead, which gave the girls a marginal advantage in the chase as their pursuer had been momentarily stunned.
‘Here, go out the rear exit, I’ll try to stall him!’ said the long-haired girl, indicating a secret stairwell at the back of the kitchen.
‘Run!’ cried Edie again, as Cheesy and Mister Pants struggled to keep up.
‘We are!’ panted Cheesy.
‘Out of here, I mean! Go!’ yelled Edie, gesturing wildly at the kitchen.
Edie turned back to see their nimble waitress blocking the way of the tall, looming man. He repeatedly tried to sidestep her, but to no avail. The waitress hopped back and forth, slipper bells a-jingle, causing the tall man to wobble dangerously from side to side. This seemed to infuriate him and he began to growl, but still the waitress seemed unfazed. The last image Edie had was of the waitress grabbing a champagne bucket and hurling it at his knees, then running for cover herself.
I must thank her when this is all over, thought Edie as they tumbled through the kitchen, past the busy chefs frying prawns, glazing ducks and rolling dough, down the back stairs and out onto the street. Edie felt panicky and frightened, but in a real way, quite different from her Worry Spirals.
She wasn’t sure which way to
turn and kept looking behind for Cheesy, who wasn’t a great runner at the best of times, with her damaged knee still a reminder of her painful trip to the hospital.
‘Keep up,’ hissed Edie, grabbing Cheesy by the kilt and looking over her shoulder for the tall man. She made sure she held tight to the scrap of purple paper, which she realised was even more precious than she’d previously thought.
Happy New Year
It was now dark. The rain was coming down hard and the crowd from the bakery had almost dispersed (which is just a fancy way of saying that most people had gone home for their dinner). There were no buns left and disappointed customers were being sent away empty-handed. A street parade had begun and a long red dragon was jingling and jangling its way down the centre of the street. Traffic was in chaos and frustrated drivers beeped their horns in protest.
‘This way,’ said Cheesy, displaying a surprising burst of energy and running towards the corner of a lane, where she imagined she could see a policeman. In fact it was a large cardboard cutout of an airline pilot advertising cheap fares to Korea. It was clearly time for Cheesy to check her lenses.
‘Bother!’ she exclaimed.
‘Language!’ said Edie, who was feeling horribly out of breath. She had the same cold, sick feeling in the top of her chest that she used to get at sports carnivals on the long-distance run. She was afraid of what the tall man would do if he caught up. He was close behind them now and seemed to be reaching out to grab them when WHAM! he fell to the ground, having tripped over a one-legged beggar holding a tin cup.
‘Watch where you’re going,’ they heard the beggar yell in protest.
‘Out of my way,’ growled the tall man. It was obvious that he would not be deterred by the impoverished or the disabled. Hair askew, he grunted and returned to his feet just as a remote-control helicopter buzzed past and collided with his head. He gave a bellow of pain and crushed the helicopter in his hand, then let the wreckage fall to the ground, his hand now dripping with blood.
