Then again…I was still grounded.
And I knew what it was like to be a lion trapped in a cage.
I paced from one room to the next. I roared at Sarah when she said the purple top I wore clashed with my red shorts. I scowled at Ken when he suggested I clean the kitchen cupboards. And I snarled at Leroy when he swallowed my dressing gown cord.
Lately, I’d been teaching Leroy tricks in return for his daily Tim Tam. Just for something to do. Today’s trick was untying knots with his teeth. It wasn’t so bad when he chewed through the knot but when he swallowed the whole cord it left me with nothing to keep my dressing-gown together. And there was always the smelly twenty centimeter doggy-do to pick up on the back lawn.
The only good part of the day was school. No-one checked my every movement, pulled power plugs on the television and computer, or offered a mop and broom as a way to fill in the long boring hours.
While sitting on the grass leaning against a tree at lunch break, Jack threw himself down beside me. Almost took my eye out with his elbow.
“Find out who K is yet?” he asked as he removed the lid from his giant sized lunch box. I watched him shove sandwiches, cake, miniature pizzas and something that looked like long yellow worms into his mouth with awe. Mum always said Jack was a growing boy, but wow…how much bigger did he want to grow?
I grabbed a handful of raisins from his lunch-box and shook my head.
“The pink handkerchief is old news.” I glanced around to make sure no-one was watching, then snuck the microfilm from my pocket. “How’s
this
for a clue?”
He leant forward his blue eyes sparkling. “Cool. What’s it from—a digital camcorder?”
“Don’t know. Found it in Patsy’s tracksuit pocket. Could be hers, but I’m betting it belonged to Frank.”
“It wouldn’t belong to Patsy.” Jack shook his head. “That woman’s a total techno-dummy. She doesn’t know a computer byte from a dog bite.” He took a healthy swig from his Coke. “How come you haven’t given it to the police?”
Before I could answer, one of Jack’s mates appeared, boots in one hand, football in the other.
“Hurry up Jacko,” he called, tossing the football in the air. “Coach wants us on the field in two minutes.”
“Gotcha, Dingo,” Jack answered, closing the lid of his lunch-box. Turning to me he hissed. “You
have
to tell the police, Cha.”
“Mmmmm…” I mumbled in a sort of
perhaps
voice.
“At least don’t do anything dangerous unless you check with Tayla or me first.”
“Okay,” I promised, watching him walk away. “I will if I can.”
Tayla wasn’t at school. She was staying with her grandparents for a couple of days. Whenever her mum was at the flowers and chocolates stage of a romance like she was with Stevie, she didn’t want Tayla hanging around.
Her mum often screwed up Tayla’s life like that. And yet, in between boyfriends, she was a great mum. Except she acted like Tayla’s big sister instead of her mother. Tayla said it was because her mum didn’t want to grow up. She said her mum had this weird
hangup
about getting old.
Being grounded, I wasn’t even allowed to ring Tayla at her grandparents when I arrived home from school. I was so bored I almost offered to scrub the kitchen floor. Almost—but I’m not
that
crazy. I didn’t even have Sarah to fight with. She was at the mall with friends and wasn’t due home for another hour. So when Ken asked me to take his books back to the library I gave a yell of excitement and danced around the room. You’d have thought I was on my way to Disneyland instead of the local library.
“See if the latest Nora Roberts book is in, will you, Cha? I’ve had my name on the list for a month now.” Mum flicked water at Ken from the sink, then giggled when he used an extra fast tea towel to flick her back. “And don’t hurry back. Have a look around the library and see if there’s anything you want to borrow. A few good books should keep you out of mischief for the next week or two.”
It was while I was riding my bike over the Birkenhead Bridge into Port Adelaide that I spotted Constable Nick Roberts. The young cop was hurrying in the direction of the shopping mall. He looked different out of uniform. Dressed in black jeans and a black Nike tee-shirt, like a normal guy.
On the spur of the moment I decided to practice my P.I. skills and tail the cop—keep out of sight—catch him off guard and finally pounce.
Standing on my brakes, I came to a dragging halt. In the P.I. manual it says a good P.I. should follow their suspect on foot so I chained my bike to a post outside the British Hotel and waited for him to reach the curb.
Not wanting him to recognize me, I untied my ponytail and let the reddish straw-colored stuff I called my hair hang down over my face.
This disguise stuff is easy
, I thought, as I slipped a pair of sunnies on my nose, yanked the teal, black and white Port Power’s cap down over my eyes, and developed a left-leg limp.
Constable Roberts stood by the curb waiting for a red light so I hid behind a bush and peeped out through the leaves. As soon as he reached the other side of the road, I ran a yellow light and hid in the doorway of a hairdresser’s shop.
A woman with bright yellow hair piled on top of her head pushed through the hairdresser’s door and smiled at me. It was Patsy’s neighbor from the house she’d been renting with Zoë.
“Hi Mrs. Murch,” I said. “Cool hair-do.”
I could almost see her going through the files in her head, trying to work out who I was. Then it seemed like a light went on.
“Chiana Ryan? How are you, dear? Have you recovered from finding that nasty body in the shed? Poor thing. It must have been a terrifying experience for you and your little friend, Tayla.”
“Terrifying,” I answered, mechanically. Nick was striding down the street mega fast. If I got caught up talking, I’d lose him.
“Nice to see you, Mrs. Murch,” I said, moving out of the doorway. “Can’t stop. I have to get to the library before it closes.”
She smiled again and then with a toss of her new hair-do, took off up the street, high-heels clicking on the stone pavement with each step.
Eyes on my prey, I flattened myself against the painted brick wall then slid into the next shop doorway. Nick had crossed the road by now and was heading in the direction of the shopping mall.
In my hurry to cross the road and keep my prey in sight, I didn’t see the humungous truck. That is until its blaring horn made my heart do a double somersault with a twist. I quickly staggered into the gutter and crouched down behind a parked car.
Over the bonnet of the silver grey Commodore, I could see Nick coming out of the Newsagents, a magazine in one hand and a can of Coke in the other. He glanced up and down the street then headed off once more toward the mall.
I started to jog to keep up, my eyes still on the jean-clad figure ahead. Suddenly Nick stopped. So I stopped. Nick scrunched his can, put it in a street bin and looked casually in my direction. I threw myself at the nearest shop window and plastered my nose to the glass.
That’s when I discovered the only thing worth buying in the window was a row of dead blowflies. The shop was closed. And judging by the thickness of the dust it had been closed for a hundred years.
What was Constable Roberts doing now
?
I grabbed a quick look out of the corner of my eye.
Uh! Oh!
He was walking toward me.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even slip inside the shop and pretend to buy a few mummified blowflies. Shoulders hunched, chin buried in my chest, I bent down and undid my shoelace on the pretence of tying it up again. The footsteps came closer, not in any hurry, just casually strolling towards me.
“Hey, kid! Why are you following me?”
I buried my chin further into my chest and untied the other lace. Perhaps if I ignored him he might think he’d mistaken me for someone else.
“Chiana Ryan?”
Hmm…
I looked up at his starchy face through a curtain of hair. “Oh, hello, Constable Roberts. Fancy meeting you here. Your day off, is it?”
One large hand, complete with very pointy fingers, wrapped itself around my arm and helped me to my feet.
“Don’t give me any of that
who me
rubbish. I want to know why you are you tailing me like some third rate Private Eye from a cheap movie?”
Third rate? Cheap movie? This guy was seriously in need of glasses.
“I was on my way to the mall, Constable,” I said, my voice honey-sweet and innocent.
I half-expected the sparks from his eyes to set light to an old man who happened to be passing by. “Rubbish.” Nick Roberts snapped. “You were tagging me. Have been for the last five minutes. And I don’t like that.”
“You don’t? Okay, here’s the deal then,” I said, getting ready to run for my life if his ears started to smoke. “You tell me about Frank Skinner and I’ll stop following you. If not, I might have to practice my tracking for say—the next couple of hours. See, I’m writing a story about this famous P.I. called Rebecca Turnbull and I
really
need to know what’s happening.”
Nick’s scowl could have knocked a magpie off its nest. He drew himself up to his full height of around six-two and glared down at me. The fact that my head didn’t even come up to his armpits put me at a slight disadvantage. However, I folded my arms. Tapped my toe. Tried to stay cool.
Which is tough when you’re so scared you’re about to wet your pants.
At last, he shook his head slowly then burst out laughing.
“Okay, you win.” A grin spread across his face as he looked me up and down. “Right-O, devil-spawn,” he growled. “What do you want to know?”
A low breathy sigh escaped my lips. I returned his grin and hurried to keep up with him as he strode along the footpath toward the mall.
“What have you found out about Frank Skinner?”
“Your body in the shed?”
“Yeah. Come on, you must have checked him out by now.”
“Well, he did have a past record for assault and robbery with a weapon.”
“Know where he worked?” To keep up with Nick’s long legs I was jogging beside him now.
“At the Weapons Research Station at Osborne.”
“Isn’t that where they try out new weapons of war?”
The microfilm was starting to make sense
.
“Yes.” His voice went cold, almost threatening. “And intruders at the Centre are shot on sight.”
I looked up and for a moment his eyes seemed as cold as his voice. Then his smile returned.
“Okay, that’s all you’re worming out of me, devil-spawn. Now, go buy an ice cream or something and stop tailing me—or I’ll run you in.” He stopped and gave me a mock frown. “And I’ll tell you something else for free. If DI Phillips catches sight of you at the police station, he’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”
“Is that the detective with the moustache and the very shiny black shoes?”
Constable Roberts nodded, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned face.
“That’s the one. And I heard from a very reliable source he had to toss those shiny black shoes in the garbage.”
His grin widened as he walked off, slowly shaking his head. “Not a happy man…”
Fourteen
“Here’s the library book you wanted, Mum,” I called, letting the screen door slam behind me. “You were lucky. The person who borrowed it only returned the book an hour before I got there.”
“We’re in the kitchen baking cakes.” Ken’s voice was followed by a muffled giggle from Mum.
As I poked my head through the kitchen doorway I rolled my eyes.
“Geez, do you two lovebirds ever stop?” I asked in mock disapproval.
By the flush on Ken’s face and the way Mum was grinning at him they’d been kissing over the cake-mixture.
I was happy for Mum. She deserved a good guy like Ken in her life after losing Dad to a heart-attack six years ago then bringing me up single handed. This guy made her laugh and since he’d come into her life she looked years younger.
But that didn’t make it any easier to put up with Ken’s daughter. If only Sarah wasn’t such a pain in the body-part you sit on.
What about the sneaky way she found my diary?
In my room…inside my wardrobe…under a pile of old tee-shirts…wrapped in a nightdress I used to wear when I was five.
Hey, if she could find that—she could find anything.
Which is why I tied the micro-film inside the pink handkerchief then tied both to a hunk of string around my neck. That way both clues were with me 24/7.
I was half way through reading chapter 4 of an Emily Rodda’s Teen-Power mystery when the phone rang. Of course Sarah, who was home from the mall by this time, came barreling out of her room. The thumping beat of one of her rap idols followed her.
“It’s mine!” she screamed, both hands outstretched. Her wet purple colored nails reminded me of vampire claws. “Let me have it!”
Let her have it? Ooooh, I was so tempted…
Instead, I grabbed the phone and accidentally smudged one of Miss Pre-Teen’s painted nails in the struggle.
“Hello. Chiana Ryan speaking.”
“Hi, Cha. It’s me, Tayla.” There was a pause. “What’s with the noise? Sounds like a bulldozer is knocking down the house.”
“Just Sarah.”
I scowled
get lost
at Miss Pre-Teen, who was stamping her feet and giving me an,
I’ll get you
back
glare. Geez. Anyone would think I’d chopped her finger off at the last knuckle instead of smudging her nail polish.
“Hey, Tayla,” I said. “Are you home from your Gran’s yet?”
I had to stick a finger in my other ear. All the better to hear Tayla’s voice over thumping music, stamping stepsister and Mum yelling up the stairs to
turn that blasted music down.
“I came home this afternoon. It’s peaceful with Gran and Poppa, but deadly boring.”
“Are you okay? I’ve been worried about you since—you know—the other night.”
I watched Sarah stamp off in the direction of her room then slam the door so hard the floor boards quivered under my feet.
“Creeped me out big time, like, I keep thinking of—you know—the ants eating his face and stuff.” I could hear the shudder in her voice.