‘SO KIRBY, JUST WHERE WOULD ONE COME BY SUCH A TOOL?’
‘WELL, BRETT, THE ANSWER IT SEEMS IS IN A TIN OF MUFFINS. PRISON GUARDS BELIEVE THAT EACH MUFFIN CONTAINED ONE COMPONENT, AND ALL THE INMATE HAD TO DO WAS BREAK OPEN THE MUFFINS AND CONNECT THE PARTS. HE THEN CUT HIS WAY THROUGH THE WALL, CLIMBED INSIDE THE CAVITY, DOWN THE WATER PIPES, AND TRUDGED THROUGH YARDS OF SEWER PIPE TO GET BEYOND THE PERIMETER FENCE.’
‘YEEKS, SOUNDS PRETTY DISGUSTING, KIRBY. SO WHAT SHOULD WE CONCLUDE?’
‘BRETT, THIS LEADS THE PRISON GUARDS TO THE ONLY CONCLUSION POSSIBLE – THAT THE PRISONER HAS ESCAPED FROM THE PRISON GROUNDS AND IS ALMOST CERTAINLY ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE PERIMETER FENCE.’
‘SO YOU ARE SAYING HE HAS ABSCONDED?’
‘YES, I AM BRETT.’
Jeepers Brett! How many ways does Kirby have to say it, the guy is gone!
‘IN OTHER WORDS, KIRBY, THIS FELLON IS AT LARGE IN THE NORTHWESTERN COMMUNITY?’
‘Well duh, Brett, it would seem likely,’ muttered Ruby. ‘Now where is that cream cheese?’
‘THE FBI CAN NEITHER CONFIRM NOR DENY THIS, BUT IT WOULD SEEM LIKELY.’
‘AND, KIRBY, CAN WE PUT A NAME TO THE CONVICT?’
‘YES, HIS NAME HAS JUST BEEN RELEASED AND HE IS ONE BOYD MARSHALL, ALSO KNOWN BY HIS CRIMINAL NICKNAME OF BABY FACE.’
Ruby dropped the cream cheese.
Baby Face Marshall, she mouthed.
She made it back into the living room to see the implausibly innocent face of Boyd Marshall big on the screen.
‘EARLIER THIS YEAR HE WAS APPREHENDED, ACCUSED AND CONVICTED OF PLAYING A PART IN THE PLOT TO STEAL THE JADE BUDDHA OF KHOTAN FROM THE TWINFORD CITY MUSEUM. HE WAS ALSO CONVICTED OF ATTEMPTED MURDER.’
‘SO WOULD I BE CORRECT IN ASSUMING THIS GUY IS CONSIDERED DANGEROUS, KIRBY?’
Ruby looked around the room, appealing to an invisible audience for some kind of sanity check here.
‘WELL, BRETT, I WAS ABOUT TO GO ON TO SAY, HE HAS MURDERED MORE THAN ONCE.’
‘HE SOUNDS LIKE A THOROUGHLY UNPLEASANT CHARACTER, KIRBY.’
‘YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT, BRETT.’
‘AND I WOULD IMAGINE HE SMELLS PRETTY BAD TOO, RIGHT?’
{LAUGHTER}.
‘I SHOULDN’T WONDER, BRETT, BUT SERIOUSLY, WE WOULD LIKE TO WARN ANYONE WHO THINKS THEY HAVE SEEN HIM NOT TO APPRoaCH THIS MAN. HE MIGHT LOOK LIKE A NICE GUY BUT HE IS IN FACT DEADLY.’
That was the thing about Baby Face. He really had the cutest face, people just wanted to trust him. Ruby sat down with a thump. She could hear Bug in the kitchen, evidently taking full advantage of the cream cheese accident. She scrabbled to find the remote and switched to the news channel, hoping to find a slightly more in-depth report.
BOYD MARSHALL, KNOWN TO FELLOW CRIMINALS AS BABY FACE, WAS IMPRISONED FOR HIS PART IN THE ATTEMPT TO STEAL THE PRICELESS JADE BUDDHA OF KHOTAN, A PLOT FOILED BY TWINFORD POLICE.
Of course it was actually Spectrum who had foiled the plot, but the downside of being a secret agency was never getting the credit.
MARSHALL HAS BEEN LINKED TO CRIMES DATING BACK FIFTEEN YEARS, THOUGH UNTIL NOW THE POLICE HAVE NEVER HAD ENOUGH EVIDENCE TO CHARGE HIM. HE FORMERLY WORKED IN A CHEMICALS WAREHOUSE DEALING WITH TOXIC SUBSTANCES AND POISONS – POISONS HE IS BELIEVED TO HAVE USED ON SOME OF HIS CRIMINAL RIVALS. THE POLICE HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE THAT MARSHALL IS ALREADY OUT OF THE COUNTRY. SOMEONE FITTING HIS DESCRIPTION WAS SEEn BOARDING A PLANE TO BRAZIL.
Up popped a very fuzzy-looking black and white CCTV still of a man in a hat.
I guess it could be him, thought Ruby, but who helped him to get out?
She didn’t have long to wonder about this. Her Spectrum-issue Escape Watch blinked at her and she knew where she needed to be.
She pulled on her parka, zipped up and stepped out into the dark.
Ruby arrived just before the briefing was due to start and sat down in a seat next to Blacker.
‘Who helped him break out?’ whispered Ruby.
‘That’s what we’re all wondering,’ said Blacker.
Their conversation was interrupted by a fake cough. LB was now standing at the front of the auditorium.
‘So,’ she began, ‘the news of Boyd Marshall’s prison breakout hit the news stations before it even reached us.’
This sent a wave of muttering through the room. LB gave another impatient cough and the muttering stopped immediately.
‘Baby Face Marshall is a very high-profile criminal, even his nickname is a household name, and this of course could be to our advantage. Let’s hope so anyway.’
Ruby could see her point. Baby Face really wasn’t going to want to stroll up and down advertising his whereabouts. If he had any sense, he would get across the state line and head in the direction of anywhere that wasn’t the United States of America.
‘I’m going to hand over to Agent Delaware from Spectrum 1 who is better acquainted with the details of the Marshall escape.’
Agent Stanley Delaware peered at his audience from over his glasses. He looked a little like a buzzard, a very neat and tidy bald buzzard in a blue suit.
‘Doubtless Boyd Marshall is going to want to avoid suffering any more jail time,’ said Agent Delaware. ‘Some documents were found in his cell, concealed inside the wall. It is clear from these that he was intending to escape across the border to Mexico and then make his way on to Brazil – indeed there is anecdotal evidence to support the theory that he boarded a flight to Brazil yesterday.’
Agent Delaware paused to sip some water. ‘We know it was an outside job,’ he said. ‘Marshall escaped with the help of one of his mob connections – we figure it was a quid pro quo arrangement – and though we would all be happy to see him brought in, we will be leaving that to our FBI colleagues and will not be considering this an active Spectrum case. He poses no threat to Spectrum and no threat to our agents.’
‘Finally some good news,’ muttered Ruby.
‘Mr Marshall,’
said the figure standing
at the window …
‘… how nice to see you out of your chains.’
‘I’m glad to be free of them, believe me.’
‘How does it feel to be in Brazil?’
‘I have to admit, I wish I was.’
‘You will be soon if you keep to the plan – you’ve done all right so far.’
‘That’s down to you; they swallowed every clue you planted.’
‘People swallow what they want to swallow, Mr Marshall. It suits them to believe you are gone for good and always.’
‘So long as they don’t look for me here in Twinford.’
‘And they won’t. Now, are you aware of how things are progressing?’
‘Yes, my sources kept me up to speed.’
‘Excellent.’
‘You’ve been busy.’
‘Oh, you know, the devil makes work for idle hands.’
‘So you have work for me?’
‘Yes, it’s a sort of disposal job, needs to be handled with great delicacy.’
‘Of course.’
‘The lady in question has a public face so we don’t want to arouse suspicion, which is why I felt an event such as this would be the perfect send off.’
‘You want it to look like natural causes.’
‘Quite so Mr Marshall. By all means be creative, but not so creative that you trip up. What I am looking for is a nice, elegant murder; you have such skill in that department.’
‘Not a problem. Are you looking for something inhaled, ingested or perhaps merely touched?’
‘Dealer’s choice.’
RUBY SLEPT SLIGHTLY MORE SOUNDLY THAT NIGHT and got out of bed feeling better than she had done in a while. To show her appreciation of her parents’ large-mindedness concerning the past few days’ events, she decided to dress to her mother’s satisfaction or at least an approximation of what might satisfy. She wasn’t prepared to go the whole nine yards and dolly herself up like child star Shirley Temple, bu
t she could meet her mom halfway.
So Ruby fished out a yellow and black vintage dress that fitted pretty well – the hem wasn’t even stuck in place with sticky tape, nor were there any rips or holes in it. Next she pulled on a pair of over-the-knee black and white striped socks and slipped her feet into the red clogs her mother had bought her for the Twinford City Museum do. These clogs had proved strangely lucky on that April night. She had successfully wrong-footed the Count by aiming the left one at his head, and it was this clunk to his dome that had prevented him from stealing the Jade Buddha of Khotan. These clogs were a lucky charm and she hoped that by wearing them for the next few days they might do a good job of keeping the peace.
Ruby was on her way to school when she reached in her pocket for a cube of Hubble-Yum only to discover there was none. She walked into the nearest store, picked up a pack (strawberry flavour) and joined the line at the counter.
The short red-headed kid in front was holding everyone up by turning out his pockets trying to find the right change for a can of soda.
‘Here,’ said Ruby, handing him a dollar, ‘have it on me, I got to be somewhere – don’t you?’
The kid paid up and the line moved quick enough until a boy of maybe fifteen asked, ‘Can I get one of those Taste Twister things?’
‘What Taste Twister things?’ asked the woman behind the counter.
‘They’re advertised all over,’ said the boy. ‘You must have seen the billboards.’
‘Never heard of it,’ said the woman. ‘What is it? A drink?’
‘I don’t know,’ said the kid.
‘You don’t know but you want one?’
‘Yeah,’ said the kid. ‘The ads are pretty cool.’
‘Well,’ said the woman, ‘I for one do not know what you’re talking about.’
‘How can you miss it?’ said the boy. ‘There’s a billboard right on Trip Street.’
‘Stan?’ called the woman. ‘Do you know what a Taste Twister is, ’cause I sure as heck don’t.’
Jeepers, thought Ruby.
The storeowner came over. ‘I know the Taste Twister advertisements, but we haven’t had any sales reps come by trying to sell it to us.’
‘So you don’t know where I can get it?’ said the boy.
‘No,’ said the man shaking his head. ‘You could try Babe’s, they stock a lot of new brands, more product ranges than we could ever hold.’
‘Already did,’ said the boy. ‘They never heard of it either.’
The storekeeper shrugged. ‘Sorry I can’t help.’
‘They shouldn’t advertise things that aren’t for sale,’ said the kid.
The storekeeper scratched his head. ‘Well, if I see Taste Twisters around, I’ll try and get them in.’
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ said the boy, ‘but it’s them that keep going on about how good it tastes.’
It was a funny thing, Ruby thought as she popped a Hubble-Yum in her mouth and headed for school, because she hadn’t seen it in any stores either and what sort of manufacturer would bother to advertise a product that wasn’t for sale?
When at last Ruby made it into school, she was greeted by a very excitable Clancy Crew.
‘So did you hear?’ hissed Clancy.
‘I heard,’ replied Ruby. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Baby Face Marshall, escaped criminal and bogeyman of the moment.
‘You think he’s at large here in Twinford?’ Clancy was on the brink of flapping. ‘Do you think he’s coming for us?’ He had come face to face with Boyd Marshall back in April and he knew only too well what this man was capable of – he was a cold-blooded murderer with a twist of sadistic.
‘Clancy, do you really think he has gone to all the trouble of busting out of jail just so he can murder you?’ asked Ruby. ‘I mean think about it – you must be way down the list of people he wants to murder – I think you can relax for a while.’
‘Well that’s kind of a relief,’ said Clancy. He looked calm for a minute and then not so calm. ‘Hey, what do you mean about me being way down his list? You think he has a list, you think I’m actually on it?’ Now he was flapping.
‘I’m kidding Clance! Get a grip would you,’ said Ruby thumping him lightly on the shoulder. ‘He isn’t interested in you. To him you’re an ant, you’re nothing, you’re no one.’
‘Thanks a bunch.’
‘All I’m saying is, sometimes being unimportant and sidelined is not so bad.’
There was a loud clearing of the throat followed by, ‘If Ruby Redfort and Clancy Crew seem to think that their conversation is so important that they can interrupt roll call then perhaps we should all hush up and they can come stand at the front and tell us all about it.’
Boy what a cliché line, thought Ruby. If I was a teacher, I would put that line to bed and come up with something original.
‘Otherwise,’ continued Mrs Drisco, ‘I can write D for detention and you can both spend your lunch hour writing me a couple of essays on manners.’
Clancy looked at Ruby and Ruby looked at Mrs Drisco and Mrs Drisco put her hands on her hips like she meant business.
‘OK, Mrs Drisco, if you really want to know and you really want the whole class to know then I’ll tell you,’ said Ruby, ‘but it isn’t pretty.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ said Mrs Drisco.
‘You might have heard about this escaped convict. I think he goes by a sort of nickname, Baby Face Marshall or something. Anyway, he is considered armed and dangerous and Clancy here might well be in his sights, if you know what I’m saying.’
‘Well, that sounds highly unlikely to me,’ said Mrs Drisco.
Ruby gave her the wide-eyed stare – an expression that conveyed not only innocence, but bafflement too. Once fixed with this stare most people crumbled instantly, but Mrs Drisco had been a teacher at Twinford Junior High for more than twenty years now and she did not crumble easily.
‘If you want to know what I think, I think you have been watching a tad too much television.’
‘I know,’ said Ruby, ‘it does sound sort of unbelievable, but here, I can prove it,’ and out of her satchel she pulled a note.
Warily Mrs Drisco took the piece of paper.
This is what the note said.
DEAR MISS R REDFORT,
AS YOU MAY OR MAY NOT KNOW, A DANGEROUS CRIMINAL HAS ESCAPED HIS BONDS AND IS BELIEVED TO BE HEADING TO OUR OWN DEAR TOWN OF TWINFORD CITY.
THIS VILLAIN IS NO LAUGHING MATTER AND IS OF EXCEPTIONAL INTEREST TO US, THE POLICE FORCE AT LARGE. WE HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT THIS CRIMINAL MAY BEAR A STRIKING GRUDGE TO ONE CLOSE TO YOU. I WILL NOT NAME NAMES BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE UNPROFESSIONAL, BUT SINCE YOU ARE AN IMPORTANT ACQUAINTANCE OF ONE CLANCY CREW I FEEL I MUST WARN YOU TO BE VIGILANT.
YOUR FAMILY FRIEND AND LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICER,
SHERIFF BRIDGES.
Mrs Drisco went pale and seemed just a little flustered. Ruby could imagine what she was thinking. She would be turning it over in her mind, unsure if she should take it seriously and embarrass herself if it turned out to be untrue, or really humiliate herself by not taking it seriously only to discover she was wrong when Clancy turned up dead.
Finally she handed the note back to Ruby, gave Clancy a sympathetic nod and brushed the matter to one side.
After school Clancy asked, ‘So what did it say, that note?’
‘I don’t want to give you sleepless nights.’
‘I think I can handle it.’
She handed her friend the note and Clancy read. Not even a whimper, not a flap, not an intake of breath.
‘She fell for this?’ was what he said.
‘It’s the element of surprise,’ said Ruby. ‘She didn’t give herself time to think.’
‘But it’s not even written like a cop would write it – I mean, “an important acquaintance”? What’s that supposed to suggest?’
‘I know,’ agreed Ruby, ‘I wrote it years ago when I was just a kid.’
‘How
did you get hold of the police department paper?’
‘I went on a tour of the police station once, managed to grab a few sheets from the sheriff’s desk,’ said Ruby.
‘And the sheriff’s signature?’ asked Clancy.
‘I asked for his autograph, got him to sign right there at the bottom. I’d covered the letter with another piece of paper, of course.’
‘Of course,’ said Clancy, somewhat sarcastically. ‘You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested – that has to be a crime.’
‘I was only five,’ said Ruby, ‘but it’s super lucky I happened to write it – it kept you out of detention and, I mean, what are the odds that there really would be a dangerous criminal on the loose and looking to hunt you down?’
‘I thought you said he wasn’t interested in me?’ said Clancy, looking panicky again.
‘Clance, I’m still kidding,’ said Ruby.
She slotted the note back into her note file. ‘I thought if I left a letter like this lying around I could spook Elliot one Halloween.’
‘Too late now,’ said Clancy.
‘Or not,’ said Ruby, pointing towards Elliot who was hurrying their way.
‘I just heard,’ he said, pulling up a chair.
‘What?’ said Clancy.
‘That you’re in the witness protection programme.’
‘I’m not,’ said Clancy flatly.
‘But it’s all around the school, there’s an escaped convict after you and you are in the witness protection programme.’
‘If I was in the witness protection programme then I wouldn’t be here, would I?’ said Clancy. ‘I would be in some other junior high, talking to some other kid called Elliot or not called Elliot.’
Elliot looked at him for a moment, not talking just looking and then getting it.
‘Oh yeah,’ he said, ‘so there isn’t a hit man after you?’ He almost looked disappointed.
‘No,’ said Clancy, ‘I don’t think so anyhow.’
‘You sure fooled Mrs Drisco.’ Elliot was smiling. ‘I mean, she thinks you’re in deep trouble,’ he laughed. ‘I mean she is totally fooled.’ He was beginning to lose it.