by Lauren Child
Hitch raised an eyebrow. He saw at a glance what had really happened. ‘Don’t give me that baloney. This wasn’t about practice, this was about you thrill-seeking. You were taking one heck of a risk because you wanted to try out a piece of Spectrum equipment – equipment you haven’t been trained to use, let alone authorised to use, nor, let’s not forget, even permitted to take out of the gadget facility. You have broken so many rules here that I don’t know why I am even wasting my breath, you sure as darn it don’t care.’
Ruby folded her arms. It was hard to look defiant when suspended from a rock by a piece of string but she gave it her best shot.
‘Oh, please,’ said Hitch, ‘don’t give me the petulant school-kid act, it’s just annoying.’
All the time he was talking he was climbing.
‘I ought to haul you down from there and let you walk home, better still, why don’t I just leave you, the eagles might appreciate a little bird food.’
Ruby would very much liked to have replied to these various insults but was kind of keen to make it home before supper so decided it might be wise to keep her mouth shut.
‘Do you value life so little?’ asked Hitch.
‘I totally value life, it’s just I don’t believe I’m going to die. I mean, it’s inconceivable that I would die, will die, I mean like now, I didn’t – did I? The parachute saved me.’
‘By trussing you up on a cliff face? If I hadn’t come along you’d have starved or been pecked to pieces by vultures. This place is slap bang in the middle of nowhere.’
‘But you did come along and I’m not gonna die.’
Hitch sighed. ‘Everyone dies kid, what makes you so special?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just a feeling. I keep not dying when I sort of should.’
‘And why is that do you think?’
‘Just lucky I guess.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Hitch. ‘I think it’s because people keep rescuing you, that and some pretty state-of-the-art equipment – the watch you’re wearing, for instance.’
‘OK,’ agreed Ruby, ‘you might be right about the watch, but I wouldn’t have been in this position at all if it hadn’t been for those guardian wings – they don’t work, you know.’
‘Kid, you wouldn’t have been in this position at all if it wasn’t for your crazy desire to take life to the edge and peer into the abyss. I’ve read your psych evaluation and I happen to agree with it – your lack of fear blinds you to detail. For instance, the little orange card sitting next to the Glider Wings saying, ‘Do not use – awaiting repair.’
‘Oh,’ said Ruby. ‘Well, I was in kind of a hurry, you know. I didn’t want to get caught sneaking around in there.’
Hitch didn’t even bother responding to that.
By now he had reached her and was busy figuring a way of getting her down. Aware that her life was in his hands, she kept it zipped while he worked on the problem.
Twenty minutes later and she was standing on solid ground.
‘How did you even get out here anyway?’ asked Hitch, who was looking around for some clue as to transport.
Ruby opened her mouth, ready to come up with an answer that Hitch might swallow, but before she could speak he held up his hand.
‘You know what,’ he said, ‘don’t even bother to lie because I don’t want to know.’
The figure in black
walked down the side
of the building. . .
. . .not exactly Spider-Man-like, but it didn’t look like it was causing him a whole lot of effort either. That is to say, it looked entirely natural, in the way it looks natural for a gymnast to flick-flack across a mat, or an acrobat to walk on his hands.
Only this guy was walking down a vertical wall.
Not only that, but he looked like he walked up and down walls for a living, and judging by the way he was now running along the narrow parapet, perhaps the balance beam was something he used daily too.
When he reached the ninth floor of the apartment block, its façade decorated with ornate stone carvings, he edged over to a small window, held onto the lintel and – using his feet – pushed at the glass until it gave.
Then he flipped himself inside.
Chapter 17.
The human spider-bird-fly
MR AND MRS OKRA WERE PERPLEXED to find paint chips in the tub. They would probably never have spotted them at all had it not been for Mrs Okra’s bad back and her deciding to have a long hot soak in the tub rather than take a shower. She was about to step in when she noticed the flakes of white paint floating on the surface of the water. How had they got there?
She looked up. Of course, the only thing above her, the only thing painted in white, was the tiny window high in the bathroom wall. She found the stepladder and took a closer look. The window, which had previously been painted shut, had clearly been forced open, and this was what had caused the sprinkling of white flakes.
Mrs Okra was mystified. She called her husband and they searched the ninth-floor apartment for missing items. The only thing that seemed to be gone was a first edition poetry book, A Line Through My Centre, by JJ Calkin – which had been on Mr Okra’s nightstand. It was always kept there. Mr Okra had a sentimental attachment to the book and often read a page or two when he was feeling melancholy.
There was a handwritten inscription inside: To my darling Cat from your Celeste, and Mr Okra had always wondered who these people were. It was nice to think of this woman giving the book to someone important to her.
The cops were called and they examined the evidence. There had indeed been a break-in, no doubt about it, but who would be brave enough to climb ninety feet up the outside of the Fountain Heights building to the ninth floor, be strong enough to force a stuck window, be small enough to climb through the tiny opening and be silent enough to not wake the sleeping Mr Okra and discreet enough to not be seen by his insomniac wife and get away undetected with a possession kept so close at hand?
THE GHOST OF SPIDER-MAN, ran the headline in the Twinford Echo.
Ruby Redfort rolled her eyes when she read this; she was not a big believer in ghosts, and ghosts of superheroes even less so. This was even dumber than the article about the Little Yellow Shoes spectre. She tended to opt for the simpler explanation when it came to crimes that couldn’t be solved; 99% of them were pretty easy to crack if one looked at them logically. RULE 33: MORE OFTEN THAN NOT THERE IS A VERY ORDINARY EXPLANATION FOR THE EXTRAORDINARY HAPPENING.
‘Cars and cabs passed by, late-night walkers hurried home, but no one took notice of this human fly,’ the journalist had written.
Spiders? Flies? What next, birds?
Ruby read on.
‘I’m thinking it must have been some type of birdman,’ Jimmy Long, the concierge at the Fountain Heights building explained. ‘He just swooped in from nowhere and dived in through one of the windows; yeah, it was a birdman all right.’
‘Ah, there we go, birds,’ muttered Ruby.
Mr Long went on to explain that he had been asleep at the time of the incident and hadn’t actually seen or heard a peep, a buzz or a chirp from the burglar, but that sort of detail didn’t seem to bother the Echo. If Jimmy Long said it was a Birdman, then that was what it was.
But the Twinford Lark (Mrs Digby’s paper) had something better than Jimmy Long – they had a witness who claimed to have seen the mysterious climber.
Boo White, a guy sleeping rough in a disused shop doorway, thought he had seen a man scaling a building. ‘Like Spider-Man,’ he insisted. ‘I saw him climb from the roof to halfway down the wall and in through a window, but I never saw him come back down.’
‘Jimmy says Birdman? Boo says Spider-Man? Who should I believe?’ said Ruby, imitating the voice of Elaine Lemon. She knew Elaine Lemon would love this story.
There wasn’t a single other person who had noticed so much as an insect crawl up the building and no one had seen the intruder come out of the Okras’ apartment, and though the cops se
arched from basement to rooftop, there was no sign of the intruder anywhere in the building.
Clancy and Ruby were sitting up in the oak tree on Amster Green. Ruby had risen early that morning and left the house by climbing out of the window and down the eucalyptus tree. She didn’t feel like running into Hitch and had decided to stay out of his way for as long as possible, then maybe he would eventually stop wanting to strangle her.
She and Clancy were perusing various local papers; they were actually meant to be looking for a French polishing service that might visit the Crew’s house pronto, no questions asked. This would save Clancy’s older sister, Minny, from a month of hard labour and evenings in her room. Minny had trashed their mom’s Louis XV dressing table by splattering it with hair dye – she would be suffering a whole lot of grief if something wasn’t done about it before Mrs Crew discovered the wreckage.
Clancy’s mom was out of town but was expected back in 24 hours. Clancy for one couldn’t cope with the stress of the imminent storm and so had decided to take matters into his own hands. However, he and Ruby had got diverted from their perusal of the ad pages by yet another sensationalist piece about the Okra robbery.
‘Was it highly valuable?’ asked Clancy. ‘This poetry book that was stolen?’
‘Ummm,’ Ruby scanned the words, ‘no, unless you call twenty bucks a lot.’
‘I do actually,’ said Clancy, ‘but I wouldn’t climb up or down the outside of a building for it – so what makes this book so special?’
Ruby read on a little more. Mr Okra was describing the book’s importance to him. ‘I found it tucked into the seat pocket of a plane I was on. I guess whoever it belonged to had forgotten it when they disembarked. I was travelling back from LA, I was very depressed at the time, my life was in tatters, but I discovered that book and I began reading – it turned me around. I wrote a piece about it for the Twinford Herald.’
‘Must be some book,’ said Clancy.
‘I guess things don’t have to be valuable to be valuable,’ said Ruby.
‘I guess you’re right,’ said Clancy.
Ruby looked at her watch. ‘Better go,’ she said. She and Clancy were heading to meet Mouse and Elliot at the outdoor ping-pong table in Harker Square. It had recently been fixed having suffered a mishap at the jaws of a tiger (it’s a long story). They were sort of dawdling; it was just that sort of day. When they finally got there the same topic was being discussed. Why would a person break into a swank apartment on the ninth floor of a secure building, stuffed full of super valuable stuff and only steal one single book?
‘I guess this person likes reading,’ said Elliot. Ruby looked at him. ‘I mean, a lot,’ he added.
‘There’s a library down the street,’ said Mouse.
‘Maybe he lost his library card,’ said Elliot.
‘Yeah, but there has to be something about this particular copy,’ said Ruby.
‘Maybe it had cash in it. My mom sometimes does that, hides a hundred-dollar bill in a book,’ said Elliot.
‘Why does she do that?’ asked Mouse.
‘Because it gives her a thrill when she finds it; she always forgets about it until one day, bingo!’
Mouse smiled. ‘I might come over later and borrow some books,’ she said.
Chapter 18.
The dangers of soap
PING-PONG WAS BECOMING INCREASINGLY DIFFICULT because the wind was beginning to pick up and the four of them spent most of the time chasing the ball round the park. After a half-hour they gave up. Mouse and Clancy had to head home and Elliot went on over to Del’s place. Ruby said she’d join him, but first she had to pop home to pick up Bug.
‘He could do with the exercise; he’s been taking it easy since I got injured,’ said Ruby. ‘Hey, head on without me, I’ll see you in a while, OK.’
Ruby went home and collected the dog, then hit the streets. The wind made Bug uneasy. He didn’t like it blowing into his ears or ruffling through his fur. It was as if he felt some unknown presence just to his side or close behind him; someone invisible.
He was the same with ghosts, or at least that’s what Elliot believed.
Whenever Bug or any dog for that matter would stop still and bark for no visible reason, Elliot would say, ‘You wanna know why he’s barking? Spooky dead things that only dogs pick up on.’
Unluckily for Bug, the Twinford county region was prone to getting these short-lived but violent wind storms. They blew in fast and blew out fast. Hard to predict, but destined to repeat over and over, gaining in force during the season until they eventually moved on. The locals often referred to them as Twinford gusters – they usually began in mid-October and whirled away till November arrived, but occasionally they arrived early and hit in September. When this happened, they usually culminated in a truly fearsome coming-together of rain, wind, thunder and lightning. It seemed that this year was a year when one might want to batten down the hatches.
When it came to storms, Ruby did not feel the same way as Bug. The storm’s force, only made visible by what it tore up or tossed into the air, terrified the dog, his animal instinct telling him this was bad news. But Ruby loved it. The sheer energy with which it churned the sea and bent the trees; all this she found exhilarating. Sure it was dangerous, but somehow it transferred its energy and made her feel invincible.
Ruby called to the husky, who reluctantly got to his feet and followed her out of the back door. She put him on the leash, not because he needed to be controlled (Bug was a very well-trained husky), but because the wind was already making him anxious, as if he might be required to do something – the result was one on-edge dog.
They walked all the way to Del’s place, skirting through the back streets. The house backed onto the ocean and Ruby could hear the waves crashing onto the beach as she passed through the front gate. She didn’t bother to knock on the door, but instead slipped through the gap to the side of the house where she knew Del would be. Del was an outdoor type and when hanging out at home was usually in her yard fixing something or kicking, throwing, or catching a ball, maybe twirling a hoolahoop or standing on her head. Today she was sitting on the wooden yard chairs with Elliot, both watching the ocean. The sea was bringing in some big waves and there were a lot of surfers out – the sound of the ocean boomed loud and the wind carried their words.
‘Hey Rube,’ Del said, patting the seat next to her, ‘sit yourself down. Bug need a drink?’ She was up and walking towards the kitchen.
‘Sure,’ said Ruby, ‘you got any strawberry-shake?’
Del raised an eyebrow. ‘Your dog drinks strawberry-shake?’
‘Yeah, funny one Del, I might crack a smile one day.’
When Del came back the four of them (dog included) sat there contemplating the ocean. The water was dotted with the surfers who sat astride boards waiting for the right wave to roll in.
‘Do you think Bug could surf?’ asked Elliot.
‘Unassisted you mean?’ asked Ruby.
Elliot nodded.
‘I’ve taken him out with me a few times; he’s just not got the hang of getting up on the board.’
‘But he’s interested?’ asked Del.
‘Oh, he’s got an interest all right. Bug loves the water, he’s just not so dexterous; it’s hard when you don’t have thumbs.’
‘Yeah,’ said Del, ‘I guess he’s not really a grabber.’
‘No, a dog can’t grab,’ agreed Ruby, ‘not even Bug.’
‘He’s pretty smart for a dog,’ said Del. ‘What do you think he would be if he was a human?’
‘I think he would do a job that involved working with the general public,’ said Ruby. ‘He’s a people person.’
While Del and Ruby were discussing Bug’s human career prospects, Elliot was thinking. Finally he piped up.
‘Do you think he could help solve the yellow shoe mystery?’
‘What?’ said Del.
‘Who?’ said Ruby.
‘Bug,’ said Elliot.
‘How?’ said Ruby.
‘What?’ said Del again. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You know, the yellow shoes, the ones that got stolen the other night by that ghoul,’ said Elliot. Del was looking blank.
‘How can you not know this? Where have you been? Mars?’
‘Florida, actually,’ Del pointed to her extremely tanned face. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been on summer vacation.’
‘Yeah, well, you’ve missed a lot,’ said Elliot.
‘So exactly how are you proposing Bug help out with this investigation?’ asked Ruby for the second time.
‘By, you know, sniffing around and finding that ghost that took the shoes from the Scarlet Pagoda.’
‘Are you seriously halfway to the planet no-brain?’ spluttered Del. ‘You think a ghost stole the shoes?’
‘It’s what everyone is saying,’ said Elliot.
‘You’re telling me you actually believe in ghosts?’ said Del.
‘Why not? Animals believe in them, they can sense them; humans have lost this ability but dogs and cats can tune into spectre vibes,’ said Elliot.
Del looked at him. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s what makes the fur go all upwards and stand on end; they just sense paranormal activity and they react.’
Elliot said this like it explained everything – ghosts existed because animals’ fur stood on end from time to time, and there it was, fact.
‘Where do you get your information?’ asked Ruby.
‘From books,’ confirmed Elliot, ‘and this TV show I watched. This man was interviewed about this house he rented and as he was looking around the place, and the dog followed him to every room, until he got to the bathroom and his dog, Buswell, refused to step inside.’
‘Maybe he didn’t need to go,’ said Del.
Elliot ignored her. ‘Buswell stood there and growled and later when the man spoke to the guy who had rented him the place, the guy told him that someone had actually died in there from slipping on a bar of soap.’
