Catch Your Death. Lauren Child

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СКАЧАТЬ Ruby.

      ‘Yes, Gilbert Gilbert is what she calls him,’ said Clancy.

      Ruby pondered this information with an expression of puzzled pity.

      ‘He was on his leash,’ continued Clancy, ‘tied to the fence, you know, so he could run round the backyard, but not actually get out of the yard – anyhow, he did.’

      ‘Did what?’ said Ruby.

      ‘Get out the yard, and the weird thing is he musta slipped outta his collar somehow ’cause Mrs Gilbert found it down the street, but there was no sign of Gilbert Gilbert.’

      ‘Quite the mystery,’ said Ruby.

      Clancy smiled. ‘Isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Maybe you should alert Spectrum.’

      ‘Who’s Spectrum?’ said a voice.

      They both jumped – Spectrum was not a word to be breathed in public and was not a word that Clancy was supposed to know, let alone utter.

      Ruby looked up and saw the eager face of Elliot Finch.

      ‘TV show,’ she said.

      ‘Never heard of it,’ said Elliot.

      Ruby shrugged.

      ‘But then you guys watch a lotta TV,’ said Elliot. He slid into the diner booth. ‘Where’ve you been anyway?’

      ‘Oh, here and there,’ replied Ruby.

      Elliot eyed her. ‘You don’t look so good, kinda scrawny – what’ve you been eating?’

      Ruby shrugged. ‘Just grubs and maggots, but I’m done with that diet.’

      Elliot looked at her, unsure if she was joking.

      ‘You want a donut?’ said Ruby.

      Elliot looked at his watch. ‘Sure, I could eat.’ He studied the menu. ‘You seen Mouse? I’m meant to be meeting her here; we were gonna play table tennis in Harker Park.’

      Harker Square, or Harker Park as kids and locals often referred to it, was the smart square in the centre of town. It had clipped hedges and ornamental apple trees as well as huge dappled plane trees, rose beds and several fountains – some traditional, some very modern and surprising (surprising in that they suddenly spouted water high into the air when people walked by – a lot of people had complained).

      The square was surrounded by smart shops and office buildings, all built in the art deco style. Harker Square was popular: it was pretty, sunny with plenty of benches and shaded areas, and had just acquired a permanent outdoor table tennis table and Elliot was making the most of it. Mouse was a pretty good table tennis player, championship good actually, and Elliot was getting her to teach him some moves.

      When Mouse eventually showed, she had come with news.

      ‘Strangest thing – I got to Harker Park, but the ping-pong table is sort of gone, at least half of it’s gone, I mean totally wrecked; looks like something actually took a bite out of it.’

      ‘I bet it was that Flannagon kid,’ said Elliot. ‘I saw him and those boys he hangs out with hitting a baseball around the back alley behind the department store. I’ll bet they wrecked the table tennis table and then went to find something else to destroy. They broke a window with their baseball too. That Flannagon kid is some hitter.’

      ‘You saw them do that?’ said Ruby.

      ‘As good as,’ said Elliot. ‘I heard the sound of a ball hitting a bat and then I heard the sound of glass breaking, so it had to be them, right? I mean it’s always them.’

      ‘You got a be careful accusing people without being a hundred per cent sure,’ said Mouse. ‘People end up in the big house every day, locked up for crimes they never even committed.’

      Mouse’s grandfather was a campaigner – he worked hard to protect ‘John Q. Public’s’ civil rights and so Mouse had grown up with strong feelings about fairness and justice. She didn’t much like Dillon Flannagon, but that didn’t mean he was guilty of every act of vandalism in Twinford County, though he did seem to be responsible for most of them.

      In any case, it didn’t much matter if it was Dillon Flannagon or not: no one was going to be playing table tennis in Harker Park any time soon.

      Elliot shrugged. ‘So what now?’

      ‘Beats me,’ said Mouse.

      ‘I’ll think I’ll order another waffle,’ said Ruby.

      ‘You have to be kidding,’ said Clancy.

      But she wasn’t.

       The department store’s stylish restaurant was busy and buzzing with fashionable Twinfordites

      A young woman sat alone at a table, not concentrating on the menu she was supposed to be reading, but instead looking around her and glancing at the clock.

      She took a small bottle from her purse and dabbed perfume onto her wrists; the smell of Turkish delight enveloped her and seemed to calm her. Her sharp blue eyes relaxed a little when she saw the young man zigzagging through the crowded room. He was casually dressed, unlike the other diners.

      ‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ she said.

      ‘I’m only two minutes late Lorelei,’ said the man, checking his watch.

      ‘Two minutes is two minutes,’ she asserted.

      Lorelei von Leyden was elegantly dressed in grey. Her spiked shoes tapped on the floor under the restaurant table: she was nervous.

      ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked. ‘I thought everything was going to plan.’

      ‘I got a message,’ she replied. ‘I think. . . I think she knows.’

      ‘How could she know?’ he asked. ‘She can’t know; you’re just paranoid.’

      ‘You don’t know her like I do Eduardo. I know she knows, she always knows, she knows everything.’

      The man tried to catch the waiter’s attention. ‘So what are you suggesting we do?’ he said.

      ‘Bring the plan forward; we need to get on with it – contact you know who, get him to deliver.’

      She made to leave.

      ‘You not eating?’ said the man.

      ‘I have to get back to the day job,’ she said. ‘Besides,’ she sniffed the air, ‘I don’t think the food here smells so appetising.’

Chapter 13.

      

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