Charlie Bone and The Blue Boa (Children Of The Red King, Book 3) (4 page)

"It's Benjamin's dog," Charlie said nervously "You know, Runner Bean."

"Of course, I know, but why isn't it in Hong Kong?"

Before Charlie had time to answer, Runner Bean, snarling horribly rushed at Grandma Bone, who shrieked again.

"Get it out!" she shouted.

"Er . . . " Charlie played for time.

Runner Bean bared his teeth and snapped at the old lady's ankles.

"That's it!" yelled Grandma Bone. She backed out of the kitchen shouting, "I'm calling pest control — the dogs' home — the police. They'll have to put that dog down. It's dangerous."

"Grandma, you can't," Charlie pleaded.

But Grandma Bone was already on the phone, giving her address, telling someone about the killer that needed exterminating. "They'll be around at half past six, and I'm not coming downstairs until that wretched Bean has gone."

Charlie was horrified. He didn't know what to do. Maisie and Mrs. Bone came running down to see what all the fuss was about. But they didn't know what to do either. Maisie was so worried about her sister, she said she couldn't think straight.

"If only Uncle Paton were here," Charlie wailed. "He'd know what to do."

Charlie felt like taking Runner Bean and rushing over to Fidelio's or Emma's, or even Olivia's place. But could they hide the big dog, or would they want to, with Runner Bean looking so wild? He hated being shouted at; his eyes were rolling and low growls kept coming from his throat.

"We'll explain to whoever comes that he must on no account be put down," said Mrs. Bone. "We'll tell them that he's never bitten anyone, ever."

"Perhaps he'll go to a nice dogs' home where you can visit him," Maisie said hopefully

"He'd hate it," cried Charlie. He took a large dish of goose liver pate and ten slices of honey-roast ham out of the fridge and poured them into the dog bowl that Maisie had hidden under the sink.

"Grandma Bone's specials," said Maisie in hushed tones.

"I don't care," said Charlie. He kneeled beside Runner Bean and stroked the dog's wiry head.

It was very satisfying to see his grandmother's favorite food being wolfed down a shaggy throat.

The time was twenty-five minutes past six.

Charlie stood up. "I've made a decision. I'm going to ask Fidelio to hide Runner until Benjamin comes back."

"With all those noisy musicians?" said Maisie. "He wouldn't last a minute."

And then someone rang the doorbell.

CHAPTER 4

SPARKLING STONES

“Is that the dog people?" called Grandma Bone.

Charlie's heart sank.

"Don't worry Charlie. We won't let them do anything nasty" said his mother

Grandma Bone was already in the hall. She opened the front door and gave a yelp of surprise.

Charlie ran into the hall. A small furry-looking man stood on the doorstep. Charlie recognized him immediately It was his friend, Mr. Onimous. Behind him stood three fierce-looking cats — the cause of Grandma Bone's yelp. She hated cats, particularly orange cats. These were orange-, yellow-, and copper-colored.

“Are you the dog exterminator?" she said suspiciously "I've seen you before, and these peculiar cats." She took a step backward.

The man held up a card. "Orvil Onimous, madam. Pest control."

"You'd better come in and get the dog," said Grandma Bone. "Charlie, if it's got a leash, fetch it."

Charlie leaped back into the kitchen, followed by Mr. Onimous and the cats.

"It's OK," Charlie whispered to Maisie and his mother. "Mr. Onimous has come."

Maisie pulled the leash out of her apron pocket and handed it over. "You be good to that dog," she insisted.

Mr. Onimous winked.

There was some good-natured growling and sniffing between cats and dog as Mr. Onimous clipped the leash to Runner Bean's collar, but the big dog seemed very happy to see them all again.

"How did you know about Runner?" Charlie whispered.

"The cats," said Mr. Onimous. "They wanted to pay you a visit. I didn't know nothing till I got here. Come and see us at the café, Charlie."

Grandma Bone called, "Come on, come on! Get that dog out of here."

Mr. Onimous led the cheerful dog away and Runner Bean looked back, just once, to give Charlie an encouraging bark.

"Cheerio, folks," said Mr. Onimous.

Grandma Bone slammed the door. Luckily it was Charlie who answered the bell when the real pest controller turned up. "It's OK," Charlie told the man, "we found the dog a home."

With one problem solved, Charlie had a good night's sleep; in fact he overslept. The next thing he knew, Maisie was shaking him awake.

"I'm off now; Charlie. The taxi's waiting. Your mom's already gone to work, and Grandma Bone's off somewhere." She put a scrap of paper on Charlie's pillow "It's the Yewbeams' address. In case you need them. After all, they are your aunties. I'm leaving you on your own, love, but I've got no choice."

"I'll be OK," yawned Charlie. He couldn't imagine why he would need to call on the Yewbeams.

Maisie gave him a peck on the head, and then she was gone.

It seemed unnaturally quiet. Charlie couldn't remember ever being completely alone in the house before. Uncle Paton had always been there. Always. What had become of him?

After breakfast, Charlie stopped by the market to see his mother. She was weighing apples for an impatient-looking man and there was a long line behind him.

"I can't stop now, Charlie," she muttered. "See you at lunch. You'll be all right, won't you?"

"Sure, I'm going over to Emma's," Charlie said cheerfully

Emma lived with her aunt, Julia Ingledew, in a bookshop behind the cathedral, but as Charlie began to make his way up the steep road to Ingledew's, he found himself pulling Maisie's scrap of paper out of his pocket. His aunts had a very strange address: number thirteen Darkly Wynd.

"Darkly Wynd," murmured Charlie. Was that a road, an alley or another town entirely? Charlie went into a newsstand. He bought a package of peppermints and showed his scrap of paper to the woman behind the counter.

"Darkly Wynd? You're not going there, are you?"

"I thought I might," said Charlie.

"Not a good idea. It's a nasty place. Not suitable for young lads like you."

Charlie was intrigued. "Why?"

"Very dark. No streetlights."

"But it's daytime," Charlie pointed out.

"Things have happened in that place, love. Better not go."

"I've got relations there," said Charlie.

The woman leaned over the counter, staring at Charlie. "What sort of relations?" she asked.

“Aunts. Great-aunts. I'm sure I'll be all right. Please tell me where it is."

The woman sighed and said, "All right, but don't say I didn't warn you. Turn right at the top of this road, then go on till you get to Greybank Crescent. It's off there somewhere."

"Thanks." Charlie left the shop before the woman could utter any more gloomy warnings.

Greybank Crescent was what it sounded like, a crescent of tall, gray buildings facing a semicircle of dusty grass. A huge fir tree stood in the center, lending an air of shadowy menace to the place.

Exactly halfway around the crescent was a gap in the terraced houses, and a faded sign nailed to a side wall read
DARKLY WYND
. Charlie turned into a narrow, murky alley On either side, grimy windowless walls towered up to the sky A damp wind swirled into his face and it was hard to believe that only a moment ago he'd been standing in sunlight.

The alley broadened into a courtyard surrounded by gaunt, ancient-looking houses. Like giant walls they seemed to lean inward, blotting out the light. Above them hung the darkest cloud Charlie had ever seen.

He shivered and began to walk past the houses, counting the numbers on the doors. Nearly every house appeared to be deserted. Windows had been boarded up, peeling doors nailed shut. Someone or something had driven away all the former residents. At number five a group of youths burst out of the door, fighting and screaming. Charlie hurried on. At number nine, a rough-looking man emerged from the basement. He bellowed at Charlie, who began to run. At number eleven a trash can lid crashed to the pavement and a rat ran between Charlie's legs.

Darkly Wynd didn't lead anywhere. At the end of the courtyard a block of buildings, taller than the others, stood facing Charlie. They had strange turrets and iron-framed balconies, tall arched windows with pediments of gnomish faces and unlikely beasts. The first house was number thirteen.

Charlie mounted the stone steps. On the black door at the top a brass knocker, shaped like a hand, hung above the number thirteen. Charlie didn't knock. Of course he didn't. Instead he leaned over the railings and peered into a long window The room beyond was filled with dark, looming furniture. He looked through the window on the other side of the porch and saw portraits of grim and serious people, hanging three deep on every wall. The house was silent. It appeared to be empty

As Charlie retraced his steps he noticed that the next house was also numbered thirteen and so was the next. "Poor mailman," muttered Charlie. The second house was also silent and gloomy but from the third came a whirring, ticking sound.

To get a better view, Charlie ran down the basement steps and climbed onto a narrow ledge beneath the long window Standing on tiptoe he could just see into the room beyond.

What he saw there was more interesting than he could have hoped for. A long oval table almost filled the room. It was covered with scraps of cloth, sparkling sequins, feathers, buttons, tiny squares of mirror, velvet, leather, and bolts of cotton. A row of lights in bell-like brass shades hung over the table, illuminating three figures. Belle sat at a sewing machine, while Aunt Venetia and Dorcas Loom stood side by side, watching her. Aunt Venetia was holding a long hatpin with a black beetle on the tip. Belle said something and Venetia stuck the hatpin into a piece of red velvet. The velvet immediately became a writhing mass of shiny black beetles.

Dorcas gasped — and so did Charlie.

Belle looked at the window and her violent blue stare sent Charlie toppling back onto a row of trash cans. Looking down at him, from the front door, was Asa Pike.

"Wh-what on earth are you doing here?" asked Charlie, picking himself up.

"I could ask you the same question." Asa, who usually went around wearing a tattered disguise, looked extremely sharp. He wore a leather jacket, white shirt, blue-checked tie, and stone-colored trousers. As if this weren't surprising enough, he was carrying a bunch of tulips.

"My aunts live here," said Charlie.

"So why are you spying instead of going in?" asked Asa.

"Mind your own business."

Asa shrugged and rang the doorbell, while Charlie leaped up the basement steps. When he reached the pavement, a sound from above made him glance up. A man looked out from a high barred window; he had dark hair and a solemn face. Charlie felt sure he knew him. He got the impression that the man was a prisoner.

Charlie ran on, down Darkly Wynd, trying to get the horrible picture of crawling beetles out of his mind.

"Have you been to a horror movie?" said Emma as Charlie leaped into Ingledew's. "You look awful."

"I've been somewhere horrible, all right," said Charlie. He told Emma about the beetles and Darkly Wynd.

Emma's eyes widened and then she said, "To tell the truth, it doesn't surprise me. Your great-aunts are so gruesome. My auntie's making sandwiches. Do you want some?"

Charlie certainly did. Julia Ingledew made delicious sandwiches with very exotic fillings. Today was no exception. Unfortunately Saturday was Ingledew's busiest day so they all had to eat sitting behind the counter and Miss Ingledew kept jumping up to help the customers.

A man with expensive taste in books and suits, by the look of it, had just left the shop with a rare book on fish. But Miss Ingledew didn't look as happy as she should have, considering the huge sum of money she'd been given. She nibbled a sandwich, cleared her throat, and said, "Charlie, what's happened to your uncle?"

"I don't know He's gone off somewhere."

Miss Ingledew looked anxious. "It's just that he usually comes to the shop at least twice a week, and there's been no word."

Charlie was pleased to see that she reddened slightly It meant that his uncle's crush on Miss Ingledew wasn't entirely hopeless.

"He left a note saying the aunts were plotting," Charlie explained. “And he had to stop someone dangerous from arriving."

"Wow!" exclaimed Emma. "I wonder if he succeeded."

"Me, too," said Charlie.

"I do hope he's all right," said Miss Ingledew anxiously "I don't know what I'd do without . . . I mean, he's so dependable, isn't he, Charlie?"

"Certainly is," agreed Charlie.

Charlie got home in time for lunch, but wished he hadn't. Grandma Bone decided to put in an appearance, which meant that he had to eat a disgusting vegetable pie instead of his usual potato chips.

There had been no word from Uncle Paton, but Grandma Bone didn't seem worried anymore. "I'm sure he's having a lovely vacation," she said.

This convinced Charlie that the opposite was true. He also had a sneaking suspicion that his grandmother now knew where Paton had gone. Her smug expression could only mean one thing. His uncle was in danger.

After a painful half hour, Grandma Bone left Charlie and his mother to do the dishes.

Charlie gave a sigh of relief. "Mom, I'm worried about Uncle Paton. How can we find out where he's gone?"

"We can't, Charlie. Your uncle knows what he's doing." She glanced at herself in the mirror and brushed her shoulders.

"You haven't got another boyfriend, have you?" Charlie asked.

His mother's answer wasn't very reassuring. "What makes you think that?"

"Please don't forget Dad," said Charlie.

She smiled pensively "Of course I won't, Charlie."

On Sunday afternoon, Charlie went to the Pets' Café as usual. It was a good place for friends to meet, as long as they didn't forget to bring a pet.

Today the manager, Norton Cross, let Charlie in without a pet. "Mr. Onimous told me all about Runner Bean," said the big man. "Your pet's waiting for you, Charlie." He pointed to a table where Gabriel sat, feeding dog biscuits to Runner Bean.

The yellow dog gave a happy bark when he saw Charlie and jumped up, almost knocking Charlie over. After making a big fuss over Runner, Charlie sat beside Gabriel, whose lap was covered with gerbils.

"I'm surprised Runner didn't eat those," Charlie remarked.

"I don't think he eats things that move," said Gabriel.

The Pets' Café door clanged open and three more customers came in. Olivia and a white rabbit, Emma carrying a strange-looking bird in a cage, and a surprising visitor: Mr. Boldova. He held up his black rat, Rembrandt, and Norton Cross waved him into the café.

While the girls came over to Charlie's table, Mr. Boldova went to the counter.

"Mr. B came into the bookshop yesterday" Emma explained. "He wants to talk about Ollie and the boa thing, Charlie. So I brought him here."

Mr. Boldova arrived at the table with a tray of cookies and orange juice. "My treat," he said. "Pass them around."

The art teacher took a seat between the girls while the cookies were divided as fairly as possible.

"Emma says you want to talk to me, sir," said Charlie, biting into a giant cookie.

Mr. Boldova lost his cheerful expression. "Yes, Charlie. I'll come straight to the point. There's a new girl in art. Belle Donner. Apparently she's staying with your aunts. Does that mean she's related to you, Charlie?"

Charlie choked on a crumb. "I hope not," he croaked.

"Hey what's going on?" asked Olivia. "Is there something we ought to know?"

"Yes, what do you know about Belle?" said Mr. Boldova.

"Nothing," said Charlie, "except her eyes keep changing color and . . . and . . . I saw . . .”

"What?" said Olivia impatiently

Charlie told them about Darkly Wynd and the beetles. "It was one of my aunts who did the beetle thing, but I'm sure Belle had something to do with it. She's got some sort of power over them."

"It must be her."

"Her who?" said Olivia.

Mr. Boldova gave a grim smile. "Emma has probably told you by now that my younger brother, Ollie, was a pupil at Bloor's. Just over a year ago he disappeared. When I came to Bloor's to try and discover what had happened to him, I had to take on a new identity There are people in Bloor's who would certainly want to get rid of me if they knew who I was."