by Lena Jones
I look at her in surprise, but she is busy unfolding her serviette and dabbing at the corners of her mouth.
We all have a second slice of cake and more tea (except for me, because I’m on my favourite – hot chocolate), and then we wander out into Hyde Park to enjoy the mid-September sunshine. The leaves are already turning and the colours are beautiful.
This time, it’s the professor who appears by my side without warning.
‘Before the others come back over, tell me everything you know about the case,’ she says quietly.
I fill her in: how the museum attendant was murdered because he must have uncovered the tunnel, and how the clay cup was only stolen to make his murder look like a bungled burglary.
‘Did Wallace Jones let slip anything incriminating?’ she asks, under cover of admiring some autumn crocuses.
‘Not really.’ I take a moment to consider what he’d said, and add, ‘I asked him how he’d managed to get the date of the fireworks moved, and he said he had “friends in high places”, but he wouldn’t say who.’
‘“Friends in high places”?’ She is quiet for a moment. ‘I wonder … There is someone in local government, whom certain agents believe to be corruptible … for a price.’
‘So if they were able to move the date of the fireworks somehow …’
‘… then I’m sure our friend Mr Jones would have paid them quite handsomely.’
‘Is there any way to check?’
She nods. ‘We have someone who can look into it.’
‘And is there anything the Guild can do to make sure Wallace Jones goes to prison?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s looking doubtful. These “friends in high places” seem to be everywhere.’
I remember all the other Guild agents involved in the robbery. ‘I’ve been wanting to ask you: how did Wallace Jones persuade so many Guild agents to desert?’
‘Oh – those weren’t Guild agents!’ She looks horrified.
I’m confused. ‘But Wallace Jones said …’
She shakes her head. ‘Let me rephrase that. They were not current Guild agents. Disgraced, every one of them.’
‘So they’d all been fired?’
‘Indeed they had. For quite serious misdemeanours, in some cases.’
That makes me feel a lot better. ‘And Sofia Solokov?’
‘What about her?’
I feel uncomfortable. ‘Was she …?’
‘If you are asking me whether Sofia was involved with this corrupt band of individuals, child, then you can stop right there. I even had her warn you off – don’t you remember, when you were investigating the sinkhole?’
‘That was her? The woman with the scarf and sunglasses?’
She nods. ‘That’s right.’
I frown, trying to piece the jigsaw together. ‘So you knew …?’
She shakes her head. ‘All we knew was that someone had caused a cave-in by tampering with the tunnel network. But my agents were already investigating, and it certainly wasn’t safe to allow a teenage girl to run around in that area. What’s more, we had yet to find out who had caused the damage – a simple saboteur-cum-vandal, or someone with a more organised agenda.’
Liam shouts over: ‘Agatha – we’re heading over to the fountain. You coming?’
‘In a minute!’
The professor takes my hand and places something in the palm – it’s cold and heavy. I open my fingers just enough to assure myself it’s the key.
‘Welcome back, Miss Oddlow,’ she says, smiling. ‘Now, please try to stick to the rules.’
‘I will – I promise. Thank you so much.’
She draws a thick envelope from her handbag.
‘I have placed some things you might like in here,’ she says, handing me the envelope. ‘I had a good old rummage at home, seeing as how the Guild file rooms were no use. These are all from my private records. Put it away now.’ I haven’t brought my backpack with me, so I run back to the house and up to the attic, to deposit the package somewhere safe.
When I reach my room, I rethread the key through its silver chain and fasten it round my neck. It feels good to have it back. I tip the contents of the envelope out on to my bed. There’s a small bundle of photos and newspaper cuttings about Mum, fastened with a bright-red paperclip. I remove the clip and quickly scan through them. I don’t think there’s anything groundbreaking here – just stories about Mum and her work keeping the City of London safer. Nothing mentions the Gatekeepers’ Guild, of course – it’s all presented as though she works for the council or something.
I put the contents back in the envelope and place it carefully on my bedside table, beside Mum’s photo, and whisper: ‘I will find out who killed you, Mum, I promise.’
Then I race downstairs and out to join my extended family in my favourite London park. They are all standing round the fountain, admiring the water’s sparkle – except for Brianna, who is trailing her hand in the water and exclaiming over the chilly temperature.
‘You could just not put your hand in it,’ Liam points out.
At this, she splashes him and he squeals.
‘See – cold, isn’t it?’
I walk over to join them. Liam grins at me and rolls his eyes at Brianna’s behaviour.
‘Come on,’ he says, gesturing to a bench nearby. We sit down and watch Brianna, who has taken off her shoes and socks, rolled up her jeans and is now paddling in the fountain. Dad has either not noticed this serious breach of park rules, or is turning a blind eye.
‘Are you OK?’ Liam asks me.
I meet his eye. ‘I wish I knew if I’ll ever find out what happened to Mum.’
He reaches out to hold my hand, and I let him. His palm feels warm and smooth.
‘You’ll find out, Agatha Oddlow. If anyone can solve a mystery, it’s you.’
Brianna comes running over and we quickly let go of each other’s hands. She’s soaked, and she shakes herself like a dog, spraying us with cold water. Liam and I shriek and make a run for it, with Brianna chasing after us. As I glance back, I can see Dad, JP and Professor D’Oliveira watching on in amusement.
It feels good to be silly and childish for once.
As I run, giggling like a little kid, a familiar figure steps out in front of me and touches his hat in greeting.
‘Enjoy your birthday celebration, mam’selle,’ says Poirot. ‘I am sure we will meet again very soon.’
I nod and smile to him, and carry on running, out of breath and laughing.
A – whizz
B – achoo
C – sizzle
D – beep
E – plop
F – brring
G – quack
H – thwack
I – choo-choo
J – ding
K – glug
L – vroom
M – hiccup
N – oink
O – jangle
P – kerplunk
Q – meow
R – moo
S – honk
T – belch
U – buzz
V – ribbit
W – bang
X – cheep
Y – guffaw
Z – argh
Tibor Jones Studio is about enabling aspiring unpublished writers so that they can work together and bring one voice to these pages for our readers. Via the intrepid spirit of Agatha Oddlow and her guiding star, Agatha Christie, we’ve been able to interrogate the writing process and ask questions about narrative, creativity and what a good detective story is all about. Joe Heap helped again and Rosie Sandler was instrumental in seeing this through. Charlotte Colwill and Tilda Johnson were fantastic in their creativity and support as were John Bond and Annabelle Wright at Whitefox. A special mention goes to Mrs Graham at Corpus Christi Primary School in Brixton, London, who shared the first book in this series, Agatha Oddly – The Secret Key, with her students and won us valuable feedback and, we’re delighted to say, rave reviews.
She’s an incredible teacher who makes reading both fun and liberating. The world needs more Mrs Grahams. We have to thank the team at Tibor Jones, especially Ana Boado, Mary Rodgers and the steadfast Landa Acevedo-Scott, who shared Kevin Conroy Scott’s vision of creating stories for children in new and ethical ways. Thanks also to Michelle Misra who is part of a sharp and talented team at HarperCollins in the UK which includes Rachel Denwood, who first saw Agatha lurking round the corner in her beret, ready for her stage, and Carla Alonzi who keeps spreading the word about Agatha around the world. Agatha always dares to be different in her own analogue way and we hope that children can draw inspiration from her quirky pursuit of the truth.
Agatha Oddlow has been a detective for as long as she can remember – she’s just been waiting for her first big case. And nothing gets bigger than saving the city of London from some strange goings-on. But just who can she trust when no one is quite who they seem …
Read all the Agatha Oddly adventures:
THE SECRET KEY
MURDER AT THE MUSEUM
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