Davina Dupree Catches a Crook (3 page)

‘Can you put my new phone down gently please?’ I said, feeling rather alarmed when she picked up my amazing new present from my old nanny, Carrie Whepple. It’s a phone but has loads of other cool functions, like you can write essays on it and print them off on its mini printer, you can watch television programmes from any country around the world, you can even programme it to smell like a particular place, for example if you press the seaside button wafts of suntan lotion, salty sea, fish and chips and hot sun come out of the phone’s speaker. If you press the mountain air button, a crisp, flowery, light scent comes out, it’s SO
cool.com
, # so please don’t break my phone Arabella!

‘Actually,’ I said, thinking fast. ‘Can you pass me the phone, no don’t chuck it just pass it over, I think Carrie would be gutted if it got broken.’

Arabella sighed and passed it to me, then came and sat down on my enormous bed. I’ve got my most FAVOURITE duvet cover on at the moment, one with a large photo of me and Arabella on our school trip to Ni Island printed on it. We look really happy but very cold, standing on a desert island in the middle of winter with strange little animals sitting on our feet!

I opened up a new blank typing sheet on my phone. For short bits of writing I like to use my phone but don’t worry, dear Diary, it will never replace YOU!

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Let’s go through the case so far and I’ll write down everything we know. Then it’ll become clear what we need to do next to help Mrs Fairchild, Diya and Angel.’

‘Good idea,’ Arabella grunted, looking slightly more cheerful. She rolled on to her back. ‘I like having a plan. You’re so good at keeping calm in a crisis, Davina, I don’t know how you do it. So, as far as we all know, this whole thing started on Saturday morning when Mr Portly found Mrs Fairchild. We know that Diya and Angel were probably the last ones to see her and that for some reason Dr Aardvark was very keen for them to be questioned about the poison in his study. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was HIM who poisoned poor Mrs Fairchild. Everything was fine until he came to the school and then suddenly our headmistress collapses!’

‘Yes, but Mr Portly’s new too,’ I reminded her, tapping away at the phone’s keypad, recording everything she said. ‘If we are suspecting new people surely we should include him?’

‘Fine, put him on the suspect list,’ Arabella said. ‘But he seems pretty harmless if you ask me.’

I stared at the screen, taking in everything I’d written. It said:
Suspects so far: Dr Aardvark, Mr Portly, Diya and Angel, (although we don’t really think it was them)
.

‘I reckon we need to do a bit of snooping around in Mrs Fairchild’s study,’ I said, scratching my head. ‘So far we don’t have any clues to go on, just a few facts and if we’re going to prove Angel and Diya were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and had nothing to do with the poisoning we need hard evidence to back up our claims.’

‘Mrs Fairchild’s study is being kept locked at the moment and Mr Portly has the key on a big bunch that he attaches to his belt,’ Arabella said. ‘I saw him locking it up the other day, sniffing and dabbing his eyes. He really is
such
an emotional man.’

‘I’ve just remembered that my old art sketchbook is still in Mrs Fairchild’s study,’ I said slowly, feeling a plan forming. ‘Do you remember Mrs Fairchild borrowing it last week to show to parents who were looking round the school?’ Arabella nodded. Mrs Fairchild always asks for a selection of books to show visitors so they can see the kind of work we do here. ‘We can go and find Mr Portly and I’ll explain that I DESPERATELY need my sketchbook back as there are plans in it that I need to look at for my new art project, which is
kind
of true although I
do
have photocopies, and we can offer to take the key and get the book ourselves as we know how much going back into her study upsets him!’

‘I like your thinking, my dear!’ Arabella rolled off the bed and stood up. ‘Come on then, what are we waiting for? No time like the present, and all that.’

I’ll tell you about the unexpected shock we had as a result of all our planning later, Diary – I’ve got to go now as we’ve got cooking with Marcel and he’s going to show us how to make Ballerina Cakes,
yummy.com
, then after that we’ve got Geography with moody Dr Aardvark, boo!

So anyway Diary,

I’m literally SO FULL right now I can hardly move! The Ballerina Cakes were SO amazing. They went up in layers like wedding cakes, but each layer was part of the ballerina’s skirt made from floaty pink and white sugar paper. We made the body and head out of different coloured marzipan and icing, then Marcel showed us how to put it all together. Mine was a bit wonky but she still looked impressive and she smelled all sweet and almondy. I took some photos on my flash new phone to show Carrie, then Marcel said we could eat some of our cakes before Geography. #Ate too much, #will never have to eat again, #can’t move or walk properly now.

But anyway, back to detective business. So yesterday afternoon, Arabella and I went off to find Mr Portly, who was changing some fairy-light bulbs in the dining room, (Mr Portly LOVES lights, bless him, he’s always adding to the atmosphere of Egmont by installing newer and more glittery ones in every room possible). We told him about my sketchbook and at first he looked horrified when he thought we wanted him to go back into Mrs Fairchild’s study.

‘Oh I can’t girls, I’m terribly sorry,’ he held his hand against his heart and went pale. ‘That room holds
such
bad memories for me,
poor
Mrs Fairchild was lying there on the chaise longue so quietly, so still. Oh dear me-‘ He took out a giant handkerchief and blew his nose into it.

‘Don’t worry Mr Portly,’ Arabella said cheerfully. ‘Davina and I don’t mind going to get the sketchbook, no need for you to go back into that study at all.’

‘Oh you
dear
girls,’ Mr Portly regained some colour in his cheeks and fumbled around on the giant key ring around his waist. ‘You brave soldiers. Here’s the key, give it a jolly good twist, the lock can be quite stiff sometimes.’

So soon, Arabella and I were safely inside Mrs Fairchild’s study, ALONE!

‘Come on,’ I said, immediately spotting my sketchbook on a bookshelf and putting it next to the door so I didn’t forget it. ‘Let’s have a look round for anything unusual, anything that looks out of place or like it doesn’t belong here. I reckon we’ve been in Mrs Fairchild’s study enough times to recognize where everything should be, don’t you?’

Arabella nodded and we set to work, examining the desk, shelves, cabinets, cupboards and especially the chaise longue. Mrs Fairchild does keep some odd things around but then we’ve always known that, so we didn’t pay much attention to the pair of bongo drums, the book about cheerleading or the row of fancy dress outfits.

‘Hang on, what’s this?’ Arabella turned round from the drinks cabinet next to the chaise longue, holding a beautiful, small pink bottle with a label hanging from its neck. ‘I don’t remember this being here before, do you?’

‘No, I would have remembered it because it’s so pretty. Is there anything written on the label?’ I said, going over.

‘”To Dearest Mrs Fairchild”’, Arabella read. ‘”A small gift from a grateful new employee. I’m so excited to be working at Egmont now and hope to serve you and the girls well as your new deputy head. I shall always cherish the day your letter arrived telling me I’d got my dream job. With best wishes and much admiration, your faithful servant Clarence Portly”. It’s from Mr Portly and look, it’s only half full!’

‘Mrs Fairchild must have drunk half already,’ I took the bottle and turned it round in my hands, reading the ingredients. ‘It says it’s dessert wine.’ I took the stopper out and smelled it. ‘Ew, very sweet. But Mr Portly’s such a sensitive soul, you don’t really think-‘

At that moment the study door crashed open and Detective Inspector Clifford strode in. He was NOT looking amused.

‘Girls! What on earth are you doing in here?’ He barked. ‘I thought I heard chatting. This room is strictly off limits to pupils, it’s the crime scene for goodness sake.’ He arrived next to me and yanked the pink bottle out of my hands, very rudely I thought.

‘What have we here?’ He growled, reading the dangling label. ‘Hmm, very interesting. Very interesting indeed. Why didn’t my men find this when they did their search?’

Arabella and I shook our heads and looked confused. How on earth were we supposed to know the answer to that!

‘I’ll bag this and take it down to the police station for testing,’ Detective Clifford said, glaring at us. ‘And I have a feeling your deputy head will be accompanying me to help us with our enquiries. And from now on, you two meddling kids stay AWAY from the crime scene. Do you understand?’

Arabella looked sulky, like she was about to say something rude, so I quickly said,

‘Yes Detective, we just came in to get my sketchbook and noticed the bottle because we thought it looked pretty. Never mind, no harm done, we’ll be off now.’ Arabella growled under her breath as I dragged her out of the study. No point in annoying Detective Clifford or he might get in the way and stop our secret detective work.

So there we are. We now have more questions than answers and will be having a meeting with Diya and Angel this evening to see how they are, discuss our findings, and try and work out our next course of action!

Some good and bad news, Diary...

The good news is that we’ve heard Mrs Fairchild’s condition has improved and it looks like she’ll make a full recovery, although she’ll have to rest in hospital for a few more days. Mrs Pumpernickle, our housemistress, bustled around at breakfast time giving everyone the good news. The bad news is that Detective Clifford has arrested poor Mr Portly for not telling him about the wine he gave Mrs Fairchild and is keeping him down at the police station for questioning (although the good bit of this is that Diya and Angel are now no longer the prime suspects), so now Mrs Pumpernickle is acting headmistress, which is making her very cross and flustered.

We had Geography again today and I have to say that Dr Aardvark is looking more tired than usual. Maybe his animals are keeping him up at night or something? He wasn’t even that rude when we were asking him questions about his collection of stag beetles, which was a nice surprise.

Cleo and Clarice watched out of the window during Geography when Mr Portly was being led away in hysterics. I couldn’t help overhearing the rather mean things they were saying about him.

‘I
knew
it was him all the time,’ Cleo whispered loudly. ‘I
knew
he poisoned Mrs Fairchild right from day one. He’s got a long nose and you can’t trust people with long noses, Mummy always says.’

‘Your nose is
extremely
long, Cleo,’ Arabella said loudly. ‘Does that mean we can’t trust you?’

‘It is NOT!’ Cleo screamed, turning round. ‘My nose is NOT long, is it Clarice?’

‘No, it’s a very pretty nose, much nicer than old stubby, freckly nose over
there
,’ Clarice glared at Arabella. She snapped open her faithful pocket mirror and she and Cleo spent a happy five minutes studying their noses and complimenting each other’s. Dr Aardvark didn’t even notice!

Diya, Angel, Arabella and I held an emergency meeting last night and decided we needed to snoop round the school to look for more clues when the police wouldn’t be hanging around and getting in our way. None of us believe Mr Portly is the poisoner, he’s too much of a softie. He likes soft lighting and even keeps a teddy bear on his bed for goodness sake, Arabella and I saw it once when we had to knock on his bedroom door when one of the girls wasn’t feeling well in the night. So we’ve decided that tonight is snooping, detecting night, Diary. The police always clock off at six each evening and don’t return until nine the following morning carrying their sausage and egg muffins, so we should be safe. I’ll report back tomorrow Diary, #bit nervous, #hope we don’t get caught...

Gob-smackingly unbelievable nightly antics, Diary!

Listen, you are SO never going to believe this...Last night, as planned, me, Arabella, Angel and Diya all set our alarms for midnight. This was a good plan as it meant we got a few hours sleep before our adventure. Arabella and I had dressed in black before going to bed, as planned, so that it would be easier to blend into shadowy areas of the school if we heard anyone coming. We then knocked for Diya and Angel, who were also wearing black and rubbing their eyes, then set off down the softly lit, squishily carpeted corridors towards the main part of the school. We didn’t know exactly what we were looking for, we just knew we had to find SOMETHING that pointed to who REALLY poisoned Mrs Fairchild.

As we rounded the corner into the main entrance hall, where two spiral staircases cascade down either side of an ornate indoor balcony, I put my finger to my lips.

‘Shh,’ I said. ‘Listen. What’s that noise?’

We all stood still, holding our breath.

‘Cluck cluck CLUUCKK!’ Came the noise again.

‘A chicken?’ Arabella turned to me, eyes the size of golf balls. ‘Did you hear that too or am I going mad?’

‘We all heard it,’ Diya whispered, frowning. ‘There’s something strange going on here. Let’s investigate.’ So we tiptoed forwards, not sure what to expect.

‘Well I can’t
see
a chick-‘ Arabella stopped as an unusual looking chicken launched itself at her feet from behind a pillar, settling down on her furry slipper with a few contented ‘clucks’.

‘That chicken looks familiar,’ Angel said quite loudly. She finds it difficult to whisper. ‘I know! It’s the one Dr Aardvark brought out on stage the other day, when he was doing his animal show. Do you remember?’

‘Yes!’ I whispered back. ‘You’re right. What did he say her name was?’

‘Mrs Peck,’ Diya said, and Mrs Peck clucked contentedly at the mention of her name.