Eye Spy (3 page)

By the time we reached home, my tummy was rumbling. I was cold, hungry and apprehensive. We tried to sneak in quietly, but Nan was waiting for us in the hall. She started on us even before we'd shut the front door.

“Mr Bull's been on the phone. Gambling! For shame! It nearly killed me, having to apologise to That Man for your behaviour! What
did
you think you were doing?”

Donna hung her head. “I'm sorry, Nan. I promise I won't do it again.”

“I should think not! Alex?”

“I won't either, I promise.”

She sat down heavily on the chair by the phone and sighed. “No pocket money, either of you, for a month. That should teach you not to waste money. Now make yourselves scarce. I don't want to see you again until supper.”

We went upstairs to my bedroom and sat down on the bed. Donna was fuming all over again. “First Mr Bull takes my winnings, then I lose my pocket money. I'm being punished twice. It's not fair!”

“I thought Em said we were going to come into money, not lose it,” I said, teasing her.

“Oh, ha ha. You'd like her to be wrong, wouldn't you?”

I wasn't going to get into another argument with Donna, so I changed the subject.

“Maybe we don't have to wait for the hand of fate,” I suggested. “Maybe we could think of a way to earn some money ourselves?”

“Like what?”

My stomach rumbled noisily again. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and I was so hungry it was difficult to think straight. I scrabbled in my pockets to see if there was anything edible there, like a chocolate bar or a packet of crisps, but all I found was the crumpled piece of paper I'd picked up in the street. As I straightened it out, I saw the words ‘£100 reward'.

“Look!” I showed the paper to Donna and together we read:

£100 REWARD

For the safe return of Kiki, a long-haired

Sichuan Pekinese, lost on Saturday,

February 16th. Contact Mademoiselle

Boudet, Flat 6, 49 Castleview, Holcombe Bay.

“A hundred pounds?” Donna said. “She must be desperate. She's probably one of those old ladies who absolutely dotes on her pet.”

“Never mind that! Why don't we offer to find the dog for her?”

“Oh, yes? How are we going to do that, Mr Sherlock Holmes? It could be anywhere by now.”

“We need to talk to the owner and find out where and when it went missing. Then we can draw up a plan of action.”

Donna frowned as she thought about it. Then she smiled. She really should smile more often; it makes her look less hostile. “OK. Let's do it. Where do we start?”

I turned on our ancient computer, which Dad had found on a skip and brought back to life for Donna and me to use. We began by using an Internet search engine to research Sichuan Pekingese.

‘
This type of Pekingese is a
rare subspecies, not often found outside China,'
said the website
. ‘They are sought after by collectors and change hands for huge sums of money.''

“Definitely worth stealing, then. What next?”

I typed ‘lost dogs' into the search box, and we got a list of charities that took in lost animals. We took down the details of the ones with local branches. Then we noticed that one of the websites included a long article on dog-napping.

‘
This is one of the fastest-growing crimes in the UK
,' it said. ‘
The dogs are kidnapped
by organised gangs, who wait until a ‘missing' notice is posted and then use the contact number to demand a large ransom. Owners usually pay up rather than going to the police, fearing for the safety of their pet.

Other gangs kidnap rare breed dogs to order so they can sell them to collectors. When the dogs are worth so much, the criminals stand to make a lot of money.'

“I don't like the sound of those gangs.”

Donna snorted. “Don't be such a wimp! Imagine if we returned Kiki to her owner after outwitting a gang of international criminals! We'd get our pictures in the paper, and it would prove to the Pitbull that not all Macintyres are losers.”

I liked the idea of forcing Mr Bull to change his opinion, but I suspected finding the lost dog wouldn't be that easy. I tried to think the problem through. “First of all, we've got to get this Mademoiselle Boudet to take us seriously. How about we make ourselves a business card like Marjorie's?” Nan's friend Marjorie runs a domestic agency. Her business card says ‘Maid to Measure' and shows her telephone number beside a picture of a girl in an old-fashioned maid's uniform. Donna nodded. “That's a good idea, but we'll have to think of a name for ourselves.”

Finding the right name was harder than we'd expected. Nothing seemed quite right. ‘Macintyre Investigations' wasn't snappy enough. Combining our names gave us ‘Don Al Investigations', but that sounded too masculine. ‘Premier Services' didn't explain what we did. Then, while I was looking round the room for inspiration, I noticed some old puzzle books that had belonged to Granddad. Each one covered a different subject, like wild flowers or types of car, and you ticked off each type of flower or car as you came across it. “I know! We'll call ourselves ‘Eye Spy', just like Granddad's puzzle books. What d'you think?”

“Brilliant!” Donna said, and I couldn't help feeling pleased with myself, because she's really difficult to impress.

It didn't take long to design a business card on the computer. When it was finished, it read:

EYE SPY INVESTIGATIONS

Discrete private enquiries

Donna and Alex Macintyre

Holcombe Bay 357102

When it was finished, we printed out the text onto some thick cream notepaper with a watermark that Donna had been given as a birthday present. We found we could get twelve cards out of one A4 sheet. When we'd cut out the individual cards, they looked really professional.

Now we were all set to start working on the case of the missing lapdog.

The next day was Saturday, and we planned to go and interview the owner of the missing dog. I'd prepared a story about spending the day with friends to keep Nan happy, but in the end she let us go without a murmur. “That'll be fine,” she said as she shrugged herself into her coat and checked the contents of her handbag. “I'm doing a cleaning job for Marjorie so I'll be out for a few hours. Just make sure you're back by teatime.”

Castleview, where Mademoiselle Boudet lived, was at the top of a long, steep hill. Once you reached the top, there was a spectacular view over Holcombe Bay to the ruined castle on the promontory opposite. The road was full of huge, swanky houses with three or four cars parked in each driveway, and blocks of cream-painted flats that looked like cruise liners that had been washed up on the top of the hill by a gigantic wave. Mademoiselle Boudet lived in the largest, sleekest block of flats.

“I wonder what she'll be like,” I said as we walked up the driveway. I was beginning to feel nervous about the coming interview.

“Old and wrinkly, I expect, and really grateful for offers of help. Don't worry – I'll have her eating out of my hand. I'm very good with old ladies.”

There was an entry-phone, and when Donna pressed the bell marked ‘Boudet, Flat 6', a crackly voice said, “Who is it?”

“We've come about your dog,” I said.

“Top floor,” said the disembodied voice. The door opened and we went in. A gleaming lift whisked us up to the fourth floor in no time, and we walked through the open door of Flat 6 into a small entrance hall. There was a vase of flowers with a heavy, sickly scent on a marble table in front of a huge mirror. Then from a room on our right a low, husky voice called out, “In here!”

The room we walked into was the sort of room you see in the pages of a glossy magazine. Everything was cream: the thick carpet, the textured wallpaper, the silk curtains. There were mirrors everywhere and lots of little glass-topped tables, which winked and sparkled in the light from a gigantic chandelier. But it was the lady reclining on an enormous cream leather sofa who really surprised us. Mademoiselle Boudet was no old lady in distress. She looked like a film star.

“Well? Do you have my Kiki?” she asked as she swung her legs to the floor. She had very long legs, and she was wearing sheer, silky black tights and shiny black shoes with the highest heels I'd ever seen. Her perfume smelt exotic and expensive.

I tried to speak, but I was so bowled over by the luxurious apartment and its glamorous owner that I couldn't get my words out. Donna said quickly, “Er… not yet, but we'll try and find her if you'll give us some information about her.”

She dug me in the ribs, and I hastily handed the lady one of our new business cards. She took it, cocked an eyebrow, and laughed softly to herself.

“So? The young detectives! How charming! How do you think you can help me?”

“Well…” I cleared my throat and started again. “Well, if you could give us a clear description of… er… Kiki, and tell us when and how she disappeared, we can start making enquiries.”

“And if you have a photo, that would be a big help,” Donna added.

Mademoiselle Boudet sighed. “
Helas
! Poor Kiki! It happened last Saturday afternoon when we were walking along the promenade. Usually she is on a lead, but her collar had snapped earlier that day, so she was running free. We were on the way to the pet shop to buy a new collar. As we approached the shopping mall, a man stopped me to ask directions. When I called Kiki a few moments later, she did not come. I searched for an hour but…” she gave a little shrug, “she had disappeared.”

“Were there many people around at the time?” Donna asked.

“There were other people walking along the promenade: mothers with babies, skateboarders, people coming out of the shopping mall.” She shook her head. “I cannot understand it. She always comes when she is called!”

As she fell silent, I asked, “What does Kiki look like?”

“She is a Sichuan Pekinese. Quite small, with long silky hair.” She stood up, walked over to a small desk, and took a photo out of a drawer. She handed it to me, and we peered curiously at it. Kiki was sitting on her owner's lap, looking – there was no other word for it – smug. It was difficult to see why a dog who was so obviously pampered would want to run away.

“Have you told the police she's missing?” asked Donna.

“The police!” She made a dismissive gesture. “What do they care about missing dogs? They have more important things to do!”

“What about the home for lost dogs?” I suggested, but she shook her head. “I ring every day and ask, but they have not seen her.”

“I suppose she's quite valuable?” Donna enquired.

The lady gave a shrug. “I do not know. She was given to me by a dear friend, but yes, I am sure he must have paid a high price for her. She is a rare breed.”

“And the man who asked you for directions? Did you know him?” I asked. I wanted to make sure we covered all angles.

“Oh, no! He was a stranger.”

“Can you remember what he looked like?”

She frowned. “A large man, not English, I think. And he wore a fur hat, like a Russian spy in a James Bond film. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. “Well, I think that's all we need to know for the moment. We can start making enquiries now, and we'll let you know if we discover anything.”

“Thank you,
mes enfants.
You are very kind. Let me give you my phone number in case you find out anything useful.” She picked up her handbag from the table beside her and extracted a card from it, which she handed to me. ‘Helène Boudet. French language tuition', it read, then it gave her phone number. The card smelt of her perfume.

She settled back comfortably on the sofa and waved a dismissive hand. “I wish you good luck,” she said. “
Au revoir
.” We went out through the little entrance hall and shut the front door behind us. As we approached the lift, a tall, well-dressed man carrying a bunch of flowers stepped out of it. He barely glanced at us as he marched up to Mademoiselle Boudet's door and rang the bell. As we stood in the lift waiting for the doors to shut, we saw her open the door and murmur, “
Mon cher
…”

As we turned into Castleview and began the walk back into town, Donna said, “Well, what d'you think?”

I shrugged. “The dog's been missing for almost a week. She could be anywhere by now. But it's worth a try.”

“She could have been stolen. If she's a rare breed, there are probably people who'd pay a lot of money for her, no questions asked.”

“Or perhaps she was kidnapped. She's a valuable dog, and Mademoiselle Boudet certainly looks as if she's got enough money to pay a ransom.”

“She didn't say anything about ransom demands. Anyway, surely they wouldn't wait this long to contact her?”

“Mm… You're probably right. Hey, Donna, wasn't that flat amazing? It was like a film set. And she looked like a film star.”

Donna snorted. “A film star! I'll bet anything you like that the man with the flowers is somebody else's husband.”

I stared at Donna. “Why d'you think that?”

She giggled. “Nan has a phrase she uses for women who look like that. She says they're ‘no better than they should be'. You'll see. I bet he has a wife and four children at home.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Maybe, but right now, I'm not interested in Mademoiselle Boudet's love life. Come on, let's go and find that dog.”

As we walked back down the hill, we discussed our next move.

“What d'you reckon?” I asked Donna. “Was Kiki stolen or did she just stray?”

“Why should she stray? Sounds like she had everything she wanted at home. No, I think someone nicked her. That man in the fur hat Mademoiselle Boudet mentioned… he could have been trying to distract her while somebody else lured the dog away.”

I nodded. “That makes sense. So we need to find people who were on the promenade last Saturday. Maybe somebody noticed something suspicious.” It was a long shot, but we had to start somewhere.

It was still very cold, but the wind had died down and there were quite a few people strolling along the promenade enjoying the pale winter sunshine. We started to walk in the direction of the shopping mall. Inside the first of the little shelters that were scattered along the sea front we saw a young woman with a small boy and a baby in a pram. Donna's eyes brightened. “Let's go and talk to her!” she said. Donna just loves young kids. She never misses an opportunity to play with them. She has always been really sad that we didn't have any younger brothers or sisters.

We went into the shelter and sat down next to the woman. She was holding the boy up so he could look out at the choppy sea while she pushed the pram to and fro with her other hand.

“Look at the seagulls, Ben,” she said.

Ben looked bored. “I want whales.”

His mum sighed. “There aren't any whales here, Ben,” she said. “Seagulls, yes. Whales, no.”

Ben looked mutinous. “Want whales!” he whined. The baby started to cry. The woman looked harassed.

“Here, let me help,” Donna offered. She smiled at the baby and made
coochie-coochie
noises. The baby stared back at her and stopped crying.

“You've got the magic touch,” said the woman.

Whilst his mother had been chatting to us, Ben had started to get restless. To distract him, I asked, “Do you like dogs?”

Ben nodded. “Dogs,” he said. “Woof, woof!”

“That's right,” I said. “I've got a picture of a dog here. Look!” I pulled out the photo of Kiki and Mademoiselle Boudet and showed it to him.

He grabbed it and thrust it at his mum. “Look. Dog!”

“Nice,” she said. “Yours, is it?”

“Er… it belongs to a friend of ours. The dog went missing a week ago, and we're trying to help her find it.”

“She was walking Kiki on the promenade last Saturday,” said Donna, getting back to the business at hand at last. “I don't s'pose you remember seeing them, do you?”

“Let's have another look,” said the woman, studying the picture more closely. “Now you mention it, I do remember that woman. Very glamorous, isn't she? As they reached the shelter, the dog ran in here, yapping. I shooed it away. You can't be too careful with dogs.” She handed the photo back to me.

The baby's cries, despite all Donna's efforts, began to get louder. “Look, I gotta go. Baby needs his feed.” She manoeuvred the pram out of the shelter and, grabbing Ben's hand, headed off towards the shopping mall and the pier. We followed more slowly in the same direction.

“It's a pity it was Kiki and not Mademoiselle Boudet who went missing!” I said. “People would have noticed if something happened to her!”

Donna looked at me sideways. “She certainly made a big impression on you, didn't she?”

I felt myself going red. I wish Donna didn't guess what I was thinking so often. That's one of the drawbacks of being a twin.

Outside the shopping mall some skateboarders were taking it in turns to shoot down the sloping tarmac path from the mall, building up speed all the while until, at the bottom, they'd soar into the air just in time to clear the raised flower bed, coming to a shuddering stop at last by the sea wall.

We stopped to watch them. “They must have spent hours practising that trick,” Donna said. “Maybe they were here the day Kiki disappeared. Maybe they saw something.”

One of them, a boy I recognised from the year above us at Lea Green, was circling on his board in front of the mall. He was showing off to a group of younger kids who were hanging around nearby, when he accidentally cannoned into an old woman and sent her flying. He was standing there, looking sheepish, while she gave him what-for, and to add to the confusion, a scruffy black mongrel was barking madly at him and trying to bite his legs. The old woman was still ranting at the boy as he took off down the slope with the dog in hot pursuit. Then the woman screeched, “Rockerfeller!” and the dog reluctantly returned to her side.

The boy skidded to a stop beside his friend, who was waiting for him by the sea wall, and looked uneasily over his shoulder. “That old bird's scary!” he panted. “Let's go, before her mad dog changes his mind and comes after me!”

“Relax, man!” I heard his friend say. “That's only Crazy Kath. You tellin' me you're afraid of a bag lady?”

“I don't care who she is, she's still scary! I'm out of here!” He shot off down the promenade, and his friend gave a shrug and followed him.

Donna sighed. “How annoying. They might have been able to help. We've been here a whole hour, and so far we haven't got anywhere.”

“It was just bad luck that the bag lady frightened them off,” I pointed out. “Let's go up to the mall and ask some questions there.”

The first person we saw when we got into the mall was Crazy Kath, pushing a huge, battered pram full of carrier bags and black sacks, with the dog still dancing around her feet. As we watched, she sat down on an empty seat next to a couple of girls, who immediately got up and walked away.

“You don't have to go. I don't bite!” she called after them. Then I had an idea. “Why don't we ask
her
if she remembers anything?”

Donna looked doubtful. “Has she even got a memory? She looks soft in the head to me. I bet that's why she's called Crazy Kath.” But we didn't have many options left, and it was getting late, so, nervously, with one eye on the dog, we walked over to the bench and sat down beside her.

The first thing I noticed about her was the smell. It was a combination of B.O., bad breath and unwashed clothes, and it made me feel queasy. Maybe this wasn't such a bright idea after all. I could think of better ways of spending a Saturday afternoon.

Kath was leaning against the back of the bench with her eyes closed. I sneaked a glance at her. It was difficult to guess what age she was. The skin on her face was as wrinkled as a walnut shell, but her hair was jet black with only a few grey streaks. She wore an ancient sheepskin jacket over a thick jumper, and corduroy trousers tucked into leather boots with broken zips. On her hands were fingerless mittens.

After a few moments Kath sighed and opened her eyes. She noticed us staring at her and frowned.

“What d'you want?” she muttered. It wasn't an encouraging start.

“Er… I was just admiring your dog,” said Donna. “Will he let me pat him?”

It was the right thing to say. Kath's face crinkled into a smile. “'Course he will! He's ever so friendly, ain't you, Rockerfeller?” She seemed to have forgotten all about his attack on the skateboarder a few minutes before.

Rockerfeller was a strange-looking animal, with legs that were too short for his body and a head that was too big for the rest of him. I thought he was one of the ugliest dogs I'd ever seen. He wagged his tail as Donna stroked him, then he stood on his hind legs and pushed his nose over the edge of the old pram, whining softly.

“Down, boy!” said Kath sharply, pulling him away from the pram. “He's hungry,” she explained. “We both are. He thinks there's food in the pram, but there ain't.”

I scrabbled in my pocket and brought out the few coins I had left. I resented spending the last of my money on food for a bag lady, but I could see that if we were to get any information out of Kath, we needed to butter her up. “I'll go and buy some biscuits, shall I?”

“You're a real gent!” said Kath. I could hear her throaty laugh as I crossed the mall and went into the supermarket.

When I returned with a packet of chocolate biscuits, Donna and Kath were chatting like old friends. We divided the biscuits between the four of us. Rockerfeller got more than his fair share, but I didn't eat very many because the smell that hung around Kath took my appetite away.

When the biscuits were finished, Rockerfeller laid his head on Kath's boots, heaved a sigh of satisfaction and closed his eyes. She fondled his ears absent-mindedly. “You're a good pal, Rocky,” she said. “Don't know what I'd do without you.”

This was the opportunity I'd been waiting for. Nervously, I cleared my throat. “We know another lady who's got a dog she's very fond of, but her dog's gone missing.”

Kath's fingers stopped their stroking for a moment, then continued. “That's sad,” she said. “Very sad.” I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

“Yes,” said Donna. “The dog disappeared last Saturday when she was walking her along the promenade, and she's still missing. We've been trying to find people who were around then and might have seen what happened.”

Kath continued to stroke Rocky's head. “What's this dog look like?” she asked eventually.

I slid the photo out of my pocket and showed it to her. She raised her eyebrows. “One of them small, yappy dogs,” she said. “Not my type. I like them big, dark and handsome!” She gave us a gap-toothed grin.

“So were you on the promenade last Saturday afternoon?” Donna asked.

Kath seemed to be thinking hard. “Now you mention it, I think I was…” Now we were getting somewhere. Had we found a witness at last? “…but I don't remember seeing any small, yappy dogs.” My heart sank. It seemed we'd hit yet another dead end.

Kath was getting ready to go. She hauled Rocky up by his collar and then levered herself up, leaning on the handle of the old pram. “I gotta go. Thanks for the snack. Rocky says thank you too, don't you, old son?” Rocky wagged his tail enthusiastically.

We said goodbye to her and walked quickly through the mall and out of the huge glass doors into the square beyond, where the stallholders were beginning to shut up shop after the Saturday morning farmers' market. I took some deep breaths. “I'm glad that's over,” I said. “She really stank, didn't she?”

“Don't be so unkind! You'd stink too if you had nowhere to wash.”

“What did you talk about while I was buying the biscuits?”

“I asked her where she goes at night. She said that when it's cold and wet, she sleeps in that old observatory at the end of the pier. And in summer she sleeps in the churchyard because it's quiet and peaceful.”

“Isn't that a bit spooky, spending the night in a graveyard?” I was only half listening to the details of Kath's life, because by this time I was cold and tired and hungry and I wanted to go home myself. I was just about to suggest we call it a day when Donna hissed in my ear “Look!” I followed the direction of her pointing finger. Threading his way through the busy shoppers and the market stalls was a big man in a fur hat.