Mr. and Mrs. Bunny—Detectives Extraordinaire! (21 page)

“Yes, yes, let's not replay those old tapes,” said Uncle Runyon. “As long as Madeline is fine. That's the important thing. How it happened will always be a little hazy. I'll have Jeeves take you to the ferry now. Say goodbye to Madeline for me. I leave tomorrow. Thank goodness Jeeves goes with me. He's an excellent butler.”

Curses, thought Mr. Bunny, who couldn't help overhearing this last part. If Mrs. Bunny heard this, she would think she was right about Jeeves. What she didn't understand was that when good butlers went bad they were the worst. This Jeeves fellow would bear watching.

Then he got into his car and drove like the wind to collect her and Madeline.

Mrs. Bunny and Madeline were in the driveway, talking to Mrs. Treaclebunny.

“You see, Mrs. Bunny,” said Mr. Bunny, after letting Madeline know that her uncle was out of his coma and would be going to Africa soon with Jeeves. “The butler appears innocent,
but he was at the center of things with all that burning. Just as I thought.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” asked Mrs. Bunny, who really wished Mr. Bunny would let the butler thing drop once and for all. Especially as it was so apparent he had been wrong from the beginning.

“The burning was a
smokescreen
! That's where the term comes from. I knew I would have to explain this to you.” Mr. Bunny was quite pleased with this spontaneous stroke of genius.

“Whatever you say,” said Mrs. Bunny. She was getting very tired of detecting. Perhaps it was time to buy new hats.

Just then there was a great commotion. A cloud of dust came down the road. When it got closer they saw who it was.

“THE MARMOT!” cried Madeline in surprise.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my,” The Marmot said over and over as he ran up to them. “It came to me this morning. In a dream! I remembered the rest of the file card. It was a recipe. Take two pulverized rabbits, stir with a rubber—there's the word
rubber
I remembered—spatula into five egg yolks with some grated chocolate. Bake in a three-hundred-fifty-degree oven until done for rabbit soufflé. WELL? Aren't I a clever marmot? You
rabbits think you're so smart, but, you see, a marmot always saves the day!”

The Bunnys stood agog, not knowing what to say, until Mrs. Treaclebunny decided to take The Marmot home with her to give him some tea. She was banking on using him afterward to wash her windows. Wrung out properly, a marmot made an excellent squeegee. “Come along, Marmot.”

“Call me The.”

“I'll do nothing of the sort. Hurry up, I've made some very nice blueberry tarts. And what kind of a soufflé doesn't use egg whites?” she said. “It's just as I suspected, foxes can't cook.”

“I want garlic bread,” he could be heard saying as they headed to her house.

“You're getting blueberry tarts,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny. “Or you're getting nothing at all.”

“But I saved the day,” protested The Marmot.

“I saved the day, everyone agrees on that. I was the one who told Mrs. Bunny about the factory. I led the rescue operation with my intrepid driving.”

“I want garlic bread.”

“Blueberry tarts for you. I tried making a prune plum tart, but it exploded. Odd. I am thinking of writing a cookbook about
it.
Recipes for Disaster
, I will call it,” said Mrs. Treaclebunny. “Say, want a few bolts of rubber? It makes swell wallpaper.”

“And so,” said Madeline to Mr. Bunny as they drove up to Comox. “The rubber clue wasn't about the rubber factory, the exploding industrial rubber or even the rubber lining for the bonnets.”

“There was all too much rubber in this case,” said Mrs. Bunny. “It just got confusing.”

“So my parents are fine,” Madeline said, sighing contentedly. “Jeeves and Uncle Runyon are going to Africa, the foxes are gone. All's well that ends well, and I guess I can parade with you, Mrs. Bunny, since I can't go to graduation. Not without white shoes.”

Mrs. Bunny handed her the package she had come back to the hutch to collect.

Madeline opened it. “White shoes! Oh, Mrs. Bunny, they're beautiful. Did you knit them?”

“Out of used dental floss!” interjected Mr. Bunny.

“How … nice,” said Madeline.

“If you like, I can make you a sweater to match,” said Mrs.
Bunny happily. “But it will take longer because I have to use up an awful lot of floss first.”

“That's wonderful. But don't feel you need to hurry. I know how busy you are …,” said Madeline.

“Look!” shouted Mrs. Bunny as they approached Comox. “They're gathering!”

And sure enough, buses were stopping and bunnies were hopping out, wearing the most amazing assortment of avant-garde bonnets.

“What happened to the bonnets?” asked Mrs. Bunny. “They're either terribly high-fashion or they're old bonnets that have been ripped to shreds and glued back together hastily in buses while driving up-island.”

“Odd,” said Mr. Bunny. “Say, Mrs. Bunny, how much do you like that hat club, anyway?”

“Oh!” shouted Madeline. “Look over there! It's Prince Charles! It's the cavalcade! Look at all those limousines gathering! Quick, Mrs. Bunny, you must get in line! The parade is starting!”

“Don't be silly, dear, there are always parades, but there's only one grade five graduation for you. Come on, Mr. Bunny, let's hurry to the school. We want to get good seats.”

Soon the Bunnys were seated in the back of the auditorium by the door. They didn't have a very good view, but they felt they'd better be near an exit in case some humans got all exercised about rabbits being in the building. They didn't want to cause a scene on Madeline's big day.

Madeline sat up on stage with the other fifth graders, wearing her white tissue gown and her dental floss shoes.

“She looks so beautiful!” sighed Mrs. Bunny.

“Yes, she's a cutie. Say, I painted her name on the cottage before I left this morning and she hasn't noticed it yet. Right over the door. It says ‘Madeline' in blue letters,” said Mr. Bunny. “I thought it would be a nice surprise for her tonight when she comes home.”

Mrs. Bunny screwed her nose up. “Oh, Mr. Bunny,” she said, and a big tear started to drip down her face. “You know after graduation we have to drive Madeline to the ferry, don't you? That that's where we're going after this?”

“Oh!” said Mr. Bunny, and he hopped around in a circle in agitation. “Oh!”

“Stop hopping, someone will notice!” hissed Mrs. Bunny.

“Oh,” he said a bit more quietly, and bit his lip. “I knew that. I meant, she'd see it when she came to visit.”

“I know that's what you meant,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“Unless she says she wants to live with us and not with those useless parents of hers. Then she can. That would be okay, wouldn't it?”

“Of course it would,” said Mrs. Bunny, and squeezed his arm, but then their attention was diverted. The prince had arrived and everyone was standing to sing “God Save the Queen” and “O, Canada.” After that there were speeches and finally the awards. As each child was called for her award, she came to the center of the stage, where Prince Charles bent forward, handed it to her and said “Congratulations.” Finally Madeline's name was called.

“What's he saying? Look!” said Mr. Bunny. “He's talking longer to her than to anyone else.”

What Prince Charles said to Madeline was “What smashing shoes! What are they made of?”

“Thank you, used dental floss,” said Madeline, turning scarlet.

“Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!” said Prince Charles. “Did you make them?”

“No,” said Madeline. “It was a … a friend.” But how could she not give Mrs. Bunny credit, after all she had done? “It was a rabbit, actually. Mrs. Bunny. I spent some time with her and Mr. Bunny. I can hear them speak. I understand their language.”

“Ah,” said Prince Charles. “I've often heard animals speak. Plants too. It's all a matter of noticing, isn't it? The richness of our lives depends on what we are willing to notice and what we are willing to believe. Of course, I get crucified in the press for talking to my plants, but it's awfully rude not to talk back to anyone who speaks to you, isn't it?”

Madeline just nodded.

“Well, congratulations,” said Prince Charles, and then it was someone else's turn.

Madeline went back to her chair, her heart racing and her face still brilliant red. The girl next to her had won the math award. Her name was Katherine and she was in Madeline's class, but Madeline knew her only slightly. Katherine leaned over to Madeline and whispered, “What was he
saying
to you? You were up there forever.”

“He liked my shoes,” said Madeline.

“Yeah, they're cool,” said Katherine. “They look like they're made out of dental floss.”

“They are,” said Madeline.

“I hope it wasn't used,” said Katherine, and then they giggled at how ridiculous
that
would be. There was a pause and then Katherine whispered, “Hey, do you want to sleep over at my house sometime?”

“Yes,” said Madeline, “that would be great.”

They beamed at each other and then went back to watching the next award.

When the ceremony ended, Madeline raced off to tell Mrs. Bunny what Prince Charles had said about her shoes. Mrs. Bunny glowed as they tripped off happily to the parking lot. Nobody seemed to notice that Madeline was going off to a car with a couple of rabbits, which just went to show that Prince Charles was right. It was all a matter of noticing.

“Oh, and I made a friend! Her name is Katherine. We're going to have a
sleepover
! First at her house and then, maybe, on Hornby!”

“Ah!” said Mr. Bunny. “It's off to the ferries, then.”

It was a quiet ride. Mrs. Bunny could not bear to look at Mr. Bunny's face the whole way. They pulled up just in time
to hear the ferry tooting its warning signal, and so there was only a quick hug before Madeline raced off to get her ticket.

“Thank you! Thank you for everything! I'll come back and visit as soon as I can,” she called over her shoulder, and ran to the ticket booth as the ferry tooted again, so that she never heard Mr. Bunny call, “Madeline, don't go! Come back! Come live with us!”

When the ferry pulled away, Madeline ran to the rail and looked for the Bunnys, but she couldn't see them over the crush of big people and cars at the dock, and then the ferry turned and pointed itself in the direction of Denman Island. By the time Madeline caught the ferry from Denman to Hornby, the sun had set and the last ride was under a starry sky.

At first she watched the waves rolling in the moonlight and then, closer into the bay, the ocean suddenly lit up as if a flashlight were shining beneath it. And then again in another place. And then the crest of a wave was alight for a moment.

Phosphorescence, thought Madeline excitedly. She had learned about it at school but never seen it. Small plankton called dinoflagellates must have made their way into the bay. Her teacher had said they flashed when the water was
disturbed or crustaceans were trying to eat them. Scientists thought they flashed to warn other plankton or to distract the crustaceans. But Madeline liked that no one really knew why they did it. What had Uncle said? That Einstein believed that an underlying reality existed in nature that was independent of our ability to observe or measure it. An underlying reality. And bunnies, thought Madeline. She watched a long time as light appeared miraculously from underneath this and then that corner of the dark sea. And then the ferry docked and she followed the moonlight home.

Mr. Bunny was grumpy for many days afterward. Then one morning Mrs. Bunny brought him a scone and some tea outside and placed a thick manila envelope in front of him.

“What's this?” he asked.

“I have decided I am tired of being detectives,” said Mrs. Bunny.

“Oh dear,” said Mr. Bunny. “I see something expensive on the horizon.”

“Au contraire,”
said Mrs. Bunny with dignity. “This time I am going to
make
us some money. I have written up the whole
story of our detecting adventures. I am going to be a writer. And so are you.”

“I don't think you can just decide to be a writer,” said Mr. Bunny.

“Yes you can. In fact, I have done it. Now I want you to drive me into town for my hat club meeting and while I'm there, mail this manuscript to Bunny Publishing.”

Mr. Bunny sighed. “Do you really think you should go to another meeting after the, uh, incident?” (As they referred to Mr. Bunny's hat-tearing caprice.)

“Oh, don't be silly. The ladies all think the male of the species is more or less insane. They have, if anything,
more
sympathy for me than ever.”

“Harumph,” said Mr. Bunny, sliding the manuscript out of the envelope and starting to read it.
“Madeline and the Detectives, by Mrs. Bunny,”
he read.