Mum grabs the tin holding today’s earnings, ‘Okay team, let’s count up the money and get it ready to take over to Hoof and Paw Rescue Home’, she sings happily. My mum is always most happy when she is busy helping people. ‘Oh, that’s really not good’, her face darkens and she goes a bit wobbly. I look at mum and she looks at Mrs V. showing her the tin. It is empty.
Chapter 2
I feel like I am in a dream. Mum is trying to hold herself together while Mrs V flails her hands about (a bit like Kermit the frog does, if I wasn’t so worried I would be cackling with laughter) and saying over and over ‘where has the money gone Beatrice (my mum’s real name), where?’
Bas and Billy are shuffling about, not knowing what to do and Celia has just arrived with a look on her face like thunder – I think she has discovered her scooter missing.
‘Where is my scooter numskull’, she shoots at me angrily.
‘Billy has it and it’s not the time for dramatics Cee Cee, all our cake money has been stolen’. I glare at Celia who is now looking shocked, like someone who has had a mouse run up their skirt.
‘Wha…? How? Why? Celia stammers, unable to get her head around what’s going on.
‘Right’, declares my mum who seems to have come out of her stupor with a kind of serious, hard look on her face. ‘We need go and tell the police what has happened and then post some posters with a reward for whoever gives back the money. We will say it is for a good cause and if they want to drop it into our letterbox there will be no more about it. There must have been about two hundred dollars, so if we make the reward one hundred dollars, at least that’s one hundred that will go to Hoof and Paw.’
Mum sounds firm and ready for action, but her face looks very sad. Celia and I go either side of her and envelop her in a big hug. Mum sniffles a bit and then claps her hands. ‘Action stations!’
I grab my bike and ride off towards home to start making posters. I see Gilbert running towards me, he is very muddy and I suspect he has been down by the river poking into restricted areas. I am mulling over in my mind who would do such a terrible thing. Usually my first thought would be Aunt Bossy, because she is my most not liked person in the world, but she did not bother to come down to the stall at all. All of a sudden I remember that Carter and Emmerllee were hanging around the stall and I brake hard on my bike making a deep snakey line in the road. I turn about and head back into town because I know it was those foul marauders and I will prove it. Then I will take them down.
Gilbert and I arrive at the police station just as mum, Celia and Mrs V. are coming out.
‘What did they say?’ I ask as I pull up to them.
‘He said they will look into it, but with so many people about they don’t think they can do anything’, Celia looks more serious than usual, which I would have thought impossible.
‘Well I reckon I know who did it, and they will pay’, I am very angry and feel like if I saw those two you-know-what’s right now I would do something not nice in a physical kind of way.
‘Valoura, please don’t speak like that, you know getting angry only harms yourself and it’s not going to get the money back’. Mum is right, because I feel quite sick in the stomach right now.
‘Who was it Loo (Celia’s nick for me)?’
‘Carter and The Grater’, I say slowly, spitting each word with venom as I walk away. A bit dramatic I know, but it’s that kind of day.
I run up the steps into our police station which has the numbers eighteen seventy eight carved into the sandstone fascia. It is not so busy inside. A man in uniform who I know very well looks up at me and groans like this: ‘heeeeerrrrrrrrrrrumph.’ The wispy hairs sticking out of his ears shiver as turns his back to me to show he doesn’t want to talk to me. He is busying himself with some papers on the noticeboard behind the counter.
‘Hello Constable Carey.’ I say in a nice easy sing song-y voice. I don’t want to put him off too soon or he won’t listen to me.
‘Hello Ms Karuna, what can I do for you today’ asks Constable Carey in a wary way. He the sees muddy Gilbert and says ‘OUT!’ in a very shouty voice. Gilbert hangs his head and slips out the door.
‘I know who it was what stole the money from the cake stall’. I know that saying ‘what’ is wrong and that I should have said ‘that’ but I like the way people in Britain say ‘what’ like that, it makes them sound tough. I watch a lot of TV shows from Britain, my favourite is Nasty Past, a sketch style show where people dress up as people from the past and talk about poo a lot. Anyway, Constable Carey has pricked up his hairy ears now.
‘Oh yes, did you see this theft occur?’
‘Weeeelll not exactly,’ (I can see Constable Carey’s interest wane a bit), but I have some incriminating information that will land two certain bums in hot water!’ I get a bit over excited and some spit comes out.
Constable Carey wipes the spit from the counter-top with his sleeve and says impatiently ‘well, say it, don’t spray it? Who was it?’
‘Carter and Emmerllee Lamb.’
‘I’m listening’.
Constable Carey is listening because everyone knows those two are bad news.
So I am telling him about how I heard them in Sago’s talking about how they have no money and how The Grater wanted to steal something and how they were hanging about the stall and looking shifty.
‘Okay Karuna, I’ll look into it’. And he looks at me like that is the end of our talk. So I leave.
*****
Gilbert and I walk my bike down Mayne Street. Looking around I try to pinpoint (another of my favourite words) any suspicious activity that may lead me to the thief. I can’t see anything out of the ordinary and a sadness sweeps over me like a cold ocean wave, I can feel it in my bones and my guts. I wonder why anyone would want to steal the money, what would they have to gain?
Ah-ha! Light bulb moment! Gilbert looks up at me wondering what I am doing because now I have stopped and am rummaging about in my pocket. I know I have a bit of paper in it somewhere. My fingers grip the edge and I pull it out, along with five sweet wrappers, lots of fluff and a thumbtack. Huh, that explains that poking feeling.
The piece of paper is a part of a personalized stationary set that Aunt Bossy gave me for my birthday. Except of course there are not very many Valoura’s in the world, so it says Valerie on it. Aunt Stacey knows I hate it when people call me Valerie and she has done this to get under my skin.
I put my grump about Aunt Stacey aside and dig out the pencil I keep in my sock. You may be wondering why anyone would keep a pencil in their sock. Yes, sometimes it does slide down into my shoe, or poke my ankle, but one never knows when a pencil will come in handy. For example, a pencil can help you rip open the plastic on a packet of lollies. It can help you draw glasses and a skirt on the guy on the front cover of Ornithology Monthly magazine in the doctor’s waiting room. Or it can help you to make a list.
I love lists.
So this list I am writing now is of all the people I can think of what came to the stall who would steal the fundraising money. I know how to write this list out because I watch a lot of detective shows with my Nanna Jessop. She’s crazy for old time-y detectives like Miss Marple. I think my Nanna Jessop would like to be Miss Marple. I must ring her and tell her what’s going on.
Who Coulda Dunnit
Chief Suspect/s: The Grater and her dumb brother.
Why? Because they have no money and The Grater is willing to steal to get what she wants. And they are bums.
Other Suspects
Mrs Tremlow. She hates our family and is a grumpy snood. (I don’t actually know what a snood is, but it sounds good).
Uni Students. They never have any money. Too much ‘glug glug’??
???
I am now at a loss because there were so many people and I just can’t think who else was close to the money, because I wasn’t paying any attention. It’s always like that. When you should be paying attention you don’t think you need to
pay attention and when no attention is paid it always turns out you should have been paying attention. Ack!
Anyway. What they do in detective shows is work down their list of suspects and eliminate anyone who can prove that they didn’t do it. This is mostly done by showing that they were somewhere else during the time the crime was committed. This is called an alibi for some reason. I am going to start with the Lambs and I’m sure I won’t have to go any further.
Chapter 3
I decide to ride home. I feel like I need to find out what everyone is doing and maybe help in some way. Then I will formulate a plan for how I will conduct my ‘sting operation’ on Carter and Emmerllee. A sting operation is when your undertake surveillance (which means to watch people) and then get some evidence on the perps (perpetrators). Then when you have enough evidence, ya bust ‘em!
It is getting dark and a bit chilly now, even though it is spring the nights are still a bit frosty. I am riding into my driveway and our house is all lit up like a Christmas tree. This is very unusual because my mum is a greenie and is always telling us to switch things off to save the planet.
There is some kind of ruckus going on inside. I can hear Cee Cee fussing about Bas and Billy making a mess on the table. I can’t help but giggle.
When Gil and I step inside the heating is turned up to eleven and the TV is turned up to one hundred and Celia is turned up to a million and Aunt Bossy is sitting in the corner with shorts and a t-shirt on and her fingers in her ears. She is singing a very daggy ABBA song very loudly so as to block out the kerfuffle in the dining room around her.
Bas is spraying pink and yellow glitter EVERYWHERE, trying to get as much as possible in Billy’s hair. Billy is freaking out because his parents are neat freaks and if he even gets one smidge of glitter on the expensive Persian rug he is dead (not literally of course. Literally means you take what I am saying as what will actually happen when really, Billy is just exaggerating. I think?).
‘Where is mum?’ I say as I think only she could stop this nonsense.
‘Give me the glue Bastian and if you don’t stop attacking Billy he can go home’.
‘No!’ Shouts Billy. I get the feeling he would rather have glue stick rubbed all over his forehead than go home.
‘HELLO CAN ANYONE HEAR ME’.
Aunt Bossy glares at me.
‘Where have you been Valoura?’
I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want her to know anything I do.
I don’t know why Aunt Stacey dislikes me so much. She and Celia talk a lot about holidays on tropical islands and technological advancements her company makes and mostly Aunt Bossy just ignores Bastian. Me however, she likes to goad, taunt and undermine. This makes me want to not tell her anything and also make me want to prank her as much as I can, which I do do (lol – doo doo, get it?!)
I put cling wrap on her toilet so her wee bounces all over her Chanel suits. I put frog spawn in her coffee mug which she hates because she is a caffeine addict and often says she would murder the queen for just one drop. Bas and I often hide Gilbert poo in her three hundred dollar shoes or under the floor mats in her Mercedes. Of course I always get caught and mum has had many talks with us both about our ‘attitudes’ and ‘communicating in a healthy, kind way’. Usually Aunt Bossy and I murmur half-hearted apologies at each other and shoot dirty looks when mum turns away.
She is now looking at me with a piercing stare. Her over-plucked eyebrow is raised into a high triangle and her pointy nose is wrinkled like she has just had a Gilbert poo attack.
‘Your mother is with Mrs Vanmanthy. Mrs Vanmanthy is unwell from the excitement of the day and needs some help around her house. If you ask me, (which I never ever would) I think your mother is too soft and allows people too much of her attention. I am certain she will be home soon. IN THE MEAN TIME (loud!), I want all this packed up and we will make some dinner. (*Sigh* Aunt Bossy makes horrible raw food which I HATE.) Then we will all go to our own rooms and be quiet until bedtime. Got it?’
She looks at us like if we say anything other than ‘got it’ will be locked in the cellar for the remainder of our natural lives.
‘Got it’ we all sing.
After a disgusting meal of raw zucchini pasta topped with tomatoes and raw onion (stinky fart breath!) Celia and I are charged with clean up. Bas and Billy are told to put all bikes and scooters in the garage – as far away from Aunt Cranky Pants’ car as possible – ‘If even ONE scratch….’ The Evil Witch Queen is enjoying a piece of dark chocolate torte on the patio. You get there through the white French doors from the kitchen. Not that I’d want to be there right now.
Celia is sullen as usual and is making no attempt to talk to me as she scrubs a big bowl. I look at her as I am curious as to what she is pondering. I often try to guess what people are thinking as I really want to know what makes people tick.
Celia huffs and turns to me with a glower. ‘What?’
‘Nothing, just wondering what you are thinking’.
‘None of your business’.
‘OK, OK’. I shrug defensively.
‘Listen Valoura, I have something on my mind and I am not interested in sharing it with you’. A mug slips out of Celia’s soapy hand and hits the sink. The handle comes off and we hear a shout from the patio,
‘That better not be my Snode’.
Snode is the brand of Aunt Bossys’ stupid china mugs that cost like forty dollars each! I wish it was.
‘No it was the one with the cat eyes on it’ I shout back, a bit louder than was necessary. I loved that cup *sob*.
‘Oh, good’, Stacey murmurs into the night air.
I turn to get the next plate or cup from Celia and I see that she is looking down, a tear splashes on her hand which has a short deep line of crimson on it. She smooshes them together, sniffs loudly and carries on scrubbing.
‘What’s up Cee Cee?’
‘Nothing Loo, just forget it.’
*****
I can’t forget it though. As I get into my purple and black monster print PJ’s and snuggle into bed (Gilbert is already there taking up most of the bed. I have to shove him over every night just so I can get in) I wrack my brain to think what may be going on with Celia. Even though my sister can be very moody and shouty, it is not often that she will cry. In fact I have only seen her cry twice, once when I was five and our dad drove away and once last year when she fell out of our river gum and a stick impaled her foot. There was a whole lot of crying then, and she screaming. Oh the screaming!
As I am drifting off to sleep I can see random images floating about my head: The Grater thumping her fist into her hand; Gilberts’ tongue dribbling spit; Constable Carey’s ear hair wriggling into worm like creatures which then become snakey thin white fingers fumbling in a purple tin with $5 notes in it. Then I am asleep and I don’t hear our station wagon crunching up the driveway.
Chapter 4
I spend the morning chatting with my grandmother on the phone. I tell her all about yesterday’s events, my theories on ‘whodunnit’ and my plans to snare my culprits. Nanna Jessop is very kind and listens to me rabbit on and says: ‘hmmm’ and ‘really!’ and ‘what nerve’ and ‘good on you’ at appropriate moments. I miss my nanna very much right now as she is a really good friend and is very kind. It makes me wonder how someone like her could bring up a daughter like Aunt Stacey.
Nanna lives far away on the north coast. It is really warm there and tropical and she has palm trees in her front yard. When we go there Celia, Bas and me spend the whole time pigging out on the bananas and mangoes that grow like crazy in the lush garden. Nanna makes us smoothies and takes us out for Thai food and we help her sell her folk art at the markets near the beach. I like going there even more in winter because all the tourists are at home and the waves are huge and sometimes we see whales with their new babies travelling north to warm up.
After I talk to nanna I feel really full up to the brim with knowing. I know what I have to do and I t
hink I know how to get it done.
I sit and have a boring breakfast with Bas because mum and Celia are putting up posters about the money and Aunt Stacey is out who cares where. Bas is going on and on about how Billy reckons he will get a green and gold scooter because he loves sport and supports all our teams and then he shouts unexpectedly ‘oi, oi, oi!’ This scares me, I drop my spoon into my cereal-ly soy milk and it goes on my face.
Bas whoops and sprints out the door because he knows I will tip my bowl on his head if he doesn’t.
I sprint upstairs to check on my ant farm. The larvae were very quiet earlier this morning. Still quiet. Gilbert is still on my bed which is weird because he is an ‘out and about’ kind of dog. He must have eaten something yesterday which is playing a game of ping pong in his stomach. I root around on the floor of my bedroom looking for some jeans and my favourite t-shirt – it has a cat wearing sunglasses on it. The cat tee is a bit smudgy but I don’t care as I fling it over my head, shaking out my wavy auburn shoulder-length hair which I like to keep loose. It is always messy and I hate brushing it, but I think it looks better that way – curly hair is a nightmare to do anything with. I kinda have a big bunch of knotted hair at the back that my uncle Kai calls ‘a wicked dreadlock’. Aunt Stacey calls it a ‘rats’ nest’. I actually hope a rat moves in with its wife and likkle rat babies and they have a party in there and then jump on Aunt Bossy’s face and bite her nose off! I can just imagine her running about like a loony screaming ‘rat ate my face!’ I chuckle to myself as I grab my MP3 player and head out to start on my ‘catch the thieves’ plan.
When I get into town I see that is it pretty dead. Not much happens here on a Sunday. Then, all of a sudden I see Constable Carey whizz by on his motorcycle. I am sooooo curious about where he might be going I take off as fast as I can after him. There is just no way I am going to catch up, but I can see he is turning into Stampson Street and I know that this is the street Emmerllee and Carter live on. I am sure I am about to witness them being busted for robbery, and hopefully for just being total ignoramuses, (or is it ignorami?). However, when Constable Carey comes into view I can see him standing between two old guys, his helmet under his arm and his hand on one guy’s chest.