That narrows it down to about fifteen results on the screen. Fifteen separate webpages that Tucker's visited. But even then there's a problem. Most of them are impossible to read. You can see there's something there, but the program has blurred the words so you can't actually read them.
"Why can't you see what it says?" Amber asks.
"It's because I only installed the free trial version of the software. They only work for a few days then you have to pay."
"And you can't click them either? To see where they go?"
"Only the ones you can read."
Amber goes quiet for a moment, looking at the list more carefully. She puts her hand onto the track pad, and places the mouse pointer on the first legible name on the list. It expands to show the whole web address. Then she moves down, and goes to the second legible name, and then the third.
"Billy, these are all jewelry stores..."
"Are they?" I say. And then she clicks the link she's resting on.
The internet window opens and slowly a page loads. A video starts playing, showing a happy couple spinning around on Silverlea beach, and then a close up of their hands, with rings on the fingers. It's a store called Carter’s.
"That's the jewelry store in Newlea. At the end on Main Street."
Amber frowns. She clicks back, and checks the next website on the list. Straight away I can see it's another jewelry store, also on the island. Then she clicks the third legible search on the list, and a third jewelry store website opens.
"Why is he looking at other jewelry stores?"
"Dad said," I begin, thinking back. "Before he went out on the boat, he said that Tucker was looking to give it a go here on Lornea Island."
Amber turns to look at me, her brow deeply furrowed.
"Like get a job?"
"That's what he said but..."
"... Maybe what he meant was, actually do a job. Like another robbery."
Thirty-Four
There's silence for a long while, then Amber stands up.
"I dunno. Maybe he’s just looking for a necklace?"
"Look at him. Why would he want a necklace? And Dad told me he was looking for work here. This is his work."
Still she looks doubtful, but after a while she laughs.
"What's funny?" I ask, confused.
"You are. Everyone at school thinks you're this weird, nerdy geek, but then you've got the most full-on fucked-up home life that no one knows about. It's hilarious!"
Strangely enough, I don't laugh at that.
"You really think he's planning to rob a jewelry store here?" She asks a few moments later.
I shrug. "I'm not thinking anything. I’m just looking at the evidence. We know he robbed a jeweler’s in that Hounds Beach place. And now he's looking at all the jeweler’s stores on the island?"
"Maybe he's..." But her voice faces away. In the end she just stares at me.
"Fucking hell Billy. This is so fucked up."
Amber has to go home soon after that, so we don't get a chance to talk about what to do next. But she promises she's going to help me, with whatever it is. Like if we need to get more evidence that Tucker is planning to rob jewelry stores. Or if we just need to tell the police what we already know. Whatever we decide, she's going to help.
And then she goes downstairs. I watch for her out of the window. She takes a while, and I hear her laughing downstairs for a bit. But then she appears outside, gets into her car and drives away. Then I make sure the desk is securely in front of my bedroom door and go to bed.
I guess I must be getting a bit more used to living with a criminal, or maybe I'm just exhausted. But either way I get to sleep quite easily, and the next morning I wake up and I'm in quite a good mood. Maybe it's because I get woken up naturally for a change, instead of by the alarm on my phone, which obviously doesn't work because it doesn't have my SIM in it.
So I turn on my radio. It's tuned to Lornea Island 104FM. It's a music station, and I used to listen to it all the time when I was younger, but recently I've forgotten about it, until last night, when I needed it to make sure Tucker couldn't overhear what we were saying. But actually it's nice to listen to music, and some people say it's good for your brain too, it's something about helping the neurons to connect to each other. I don't think the evidence is clear, but it does feel nice sometimes.
After a while I get up and have a look at VesselTrack, and then my mood gets even better, because I see that Dad's boat is heading back from the fishing grounds. I work out he’ll be back sometime tonight, which is earlier than he said. That's double good news because the boats only ever come back early if they're totally full of fish, so he’ll have earned a lot.
Then I start to very quickly do my homework, because I've been so busy with all the Tucker stuff, and the Mrs. Jacobs stuff, that I haven't had a chance to do it, and there's two pieces I have to hand in this morning. So I'm doing all that when suddenly my phone rings.
I know what you're thinking, but I guess I'm still half-thinking about Dad, because I just assume it must be him on the phone, that maybe he's come back into range now he's getting closer to land. So without realizing what I'm doing, I answer my phone.
"Hi Dad!"
"Who's that?" The voice is all wrong. Right away I realize what I've done.
I lower the phone to look at the screen. The caller ID says 'Vinny'.
"I said who's that?" The voice says again. He sounds gruff, a bit angry.
"No one." I reply, desperately trying to work out what to do.
"Well it's definitely someone. And it's someone with Tucker's phone." The man goes on. "You know where he is?"
I don't answer, but I can't help thinking the answer. That's he's downstairs on the sofa, asleep. Then I have another thought. He might not actually be downstairs by now. I've been doing homework for a while now, and sometimes Tucker does get up early, and he's in the habit now of just coming upstairs and using the shower without being asked. And if he does that he'll hear me speaking on the phone, and wonder who I'm speaking to. So just in case I twist the volume knob to make the radio louder.
"Well? You know where he is?" The man on the phone repeats.
"No," I lie. "He's not here."
The man – I suppose I should call him Vinny, since I know that’s his name - doesn't reply, and I wonder if I could just hang up. But I spend too long thinking about it and miss my chance.
"So where's 'here'?"
"Erm. I don't know."
For a stupid moment I wonder if Vinny might actually be Tucker's probation officer, like Amber thought last night, but I know he isn't. He doesn't sound anything like a probation officer would sound.
"How'd you get hold of Tucker's phone son?"
But then I'm not quite so sure. Suddenly he sounds a bit more friendly. So what if he is a probation officer. Or a policeman. How would you actually tell?
"Listen kid. I only want to speak to him. He don't have nothing to worry about, not from me."
I swallow at this because the way he says it, it kind of makes me think the exact opposite.
"Where are you kid? You don't sound like you're from round here. You got an accent. Tell me where Tucker is..."
Still I don't hang up, and I begin to understand why. I start to feel a bit braver. I work out that, whoever he is, there's no way he can tell where I am, just from a phone call. That's why he keeps asking me. Because he needs me to tell him. So I'm safe, as long as I watch what I say. And that means I'm able to start asking him questions. It might help when I speak to the police.
"Who are you? And why are you looking for Tucker?"
There's a long pause, and at the end of it Vinny laughs.
"Who am I? You got a nerve kid. And who says I'm looking for Tucker? I'm just looking out for him, you know what I'm saying?"
I don't answer.
"Tell me where you are you kid? Where's that accent from?"
I don't reply. I know what he's trying to do.
"Is that Ea
st Coast?"
Again I stay silent. I'm not going to be tricked into revealing anything.
"Tucker's a friend of yours is he?"
"No. He just knows my Dad, that's all." Straight away I realize I shouldn't have said that. I know it from the way he replies, sharp and fast.
"And who's your dad?"
I try not to answer, but Vinny just waits for me to speak, and it's weird how hard it is not to tell him, with the question just hanging there. And I can feel myself about to reply, even though I don't want to, when he speaks again.
"Who's your dad kid? What's his name?"
And somehow that makes it easier to not answer him. I shouldn't have let slip about Dad, but it's not enough for Vinny to know where we are, and now I'm not going to make a second mistake.
"Where's that accent son? You don't sound like you're from around here..." His voice has changed now. He doesn't sound mean, more like someone offering candy to a kid.
I decide the best thing to do it hang up, to be on the safe side. But then something really bad happens. Something really super unlucky. Just before I press the button to end the call, the song on the radio ends, and the DJ starts calling something out. And right away I know what he's gonna say, because I've heard it before, when I used to listen to Lornea Island 104 a lot. There's this really old movie, you might have seen it. It's about the war in Vietnam, and a DJ in the army played by the an old actor called Robin Williams has this catchphrase. I reckon the Lornea Island 104 DJ must have watched the movie a lot because he's always doing it too.
"Gooooooooood Moooooorning..." I panic. I should just kill the call, but instead I dive across the room to switch the radio off. But I don't get there in time. "... Lorneeeeeee Isssssland!"
The room is suddenly silent. The phone has fallen to the floor, and I stoop down to pick it up, praying that it broke or stopped the call when it fell. But then I realise Vinny is saying something.
"What was that kid? What's goin' on..."
I don't wait long enough to hear it all. I fumble with the buttons until the phone's screen goes blank.
I stare at the phone for a few moments, and then the screen lights up, and the caller ID shows he's rung back. Hurriedly, and fumbling even more now, because my hands are really shaking, I manage to slide the back off and rip out the battery. Then I pull out the SIM card out too, and throw it away, it cuts through the air, like when you throw a playing card, but then it hits the wall, then drops down to the floor like a dead insect.
Thirty-Five
Amber corners me as I get off the school bus, and asks if Vinny replied to the text, That's good, because it means I don't have to lie to her. I tell her that he hasn't sent any texts, and she looks disappointed, but then she starts talking about something else.
"I had an idea," she tells me. "About Mrs. Jacobs."
I have to get to class, so it's not really the time to talk.
"You remember how Sharpe told us about Henry Jacobs running off with another woman? But we know he was more interested in little boys."
"So?"
"So I figured that kinda proves how he didn't go off with a woman. You see what I mean?"
I try to follow her logic, but it isn't actual logic. As in anything actually logical.
"Why not?"
"Because he liked boys. So he wouldn't go off with a woman would he? Think about it..."
"Maybe he liked boys and women."
She gives me a look.
"That's how it works Billy," Amber says, then she drops into step with me, so we're both walking together down the corridor.
"What are you interested in?"
"What?"
"Girls? Boys? What do you like?"
Straight away I feel my face begins to heat up.
"What do you mean?"
"What I said. Handsy Henry liked little boys. So he's not going to like women as well. What are you into? Are there any girls you like?"
I don't look at her. I make a real point of it.
"No."
"Why not? Are you into boys?"
"No!"
"It's alright. I don't mind either way."
"I'm not..."
"Look my point is, people usually like one or the other. Except for bisexuals I suppose. And people that like to stick it into sheep. Maybe they like goats just as much, I don't know."
I open my mouth to reply, but she's off on one now.
"Henry Jacobs. If he was into boys, then I reckon it proves he didn't run off with another woman. Or if it doesn't prove it, then it pretty nearly does. Because he didn't like women! Not in a sexual way."
I don't know what to say. I think I just want this conversation to end. And then it does, but not quite how I wanted it to.
"Anyway." Amber says. "I gotta get to class. I had this great idea what we should do with Mrs. Jacobs. I'll tell you at lunch." And then she disappears.
I've had a bit of bullying to deal with recently. Ever since what happened in the reception hall, when Amber attacked James Drolley. It's not been anything too serious. But that kind of changes, in mid-morning break, when I'm going from one class to the next. Most of the classrooms in our school are in the main block, but there's also an annex, where the science labs are. To get there you have to go down this long corridor. And I'm walking down there when I hear someone calling my name. I turn around and see Drolley and a couple of others. Right away I know it's going to be bad. You can always tell.
"Wheatley. Where d’ya think you’re going?"
I think about making a run for the classroom. But it's still break time. The teacher won't be there yet so I'll be trapped, and they'll be wound up from chasing me. So I wait for them, hoping to get it over with. Drolley's gang stop a few steps away, but Drolley himself doesn't stop. He keeps walking till he's almost on top of me, and then without slowing down or hesitating he punches me in the stomach. He punches me really hard.
It hurts twice as much because I wasn’t expecting it. I double up. I'm still on my feet but it's knocked all the breath out of me and I can't get any new air in. I start to panic, trying to draw a breath, but it’s like my lungs have broken.
"No vampire protector today Wheatley?" Drolley asks, then there's a fresh wave of pain as he hits me again. Then a third time. This time I don't stay on my feet, though I don't know how I go down. I just find myself on the floor, gritty against my cheek.
"Fucking little freak." I hear him mutter above me. And then there's a blow on my back, I think where's he's kicking me. I curl up into a ball, the kicks don’t hurt as much as the punches, and now, finally, I’m getting some air in again.
It's bad, but at least it's quick, because then they're gone, laughing as they carry on down the corridor, and into the classroom. And slowly the pain recedes, and eventually I can get enough air in. I push against the wall of the corridor with my feet, and after a while I get to a sitting position. Quite a few of the other kids from my class have come by now, but none of them have done anything. They can't really, because Drolley will only pick on them if they do, so they just step by, like they're pretending they didn't see. And I know I have to get up too, before the teacher comes to take the class, because he'd ask what I'm doing here on the floor. And then if I told him what happened, Drolley would know I sneaked on him, and then he'd just do it again.
I'm sort of on my feet by the time Mr. Edwards comes by. He just gives me a strange look.
"Everything OK Wheatley?"
I still can't speak, so I nod, and he pulls a face. I've never got on with Mr. Edwards.
"Well don't hang around here looking odd. Get into class." And he waits so that I have to walk in front of him into the classroom. Normally I get in early, so I can get a desk at the front, but because I'm late there's none left, and I have to take one right at the back, right next to where Drolley is sitting, smirking at me.
So that's not very nice.
"You what?" I ask Amber, at lunchtime.
"It has to be her. It all fits."
"I'm sure of it."
"Why?"
"She found out he was a pedophile. She didn't like it. So boom." She mimes the action of a handgun against the side of my head.
"But what about the letters? The birthday cards Principal Sharpe received from her dad, who was living with another woman in Maui?"
"Faked."
I'm still staring at her.
"But why would she hire us? To find him, if she killed him."
"I know, it's crazy right? But what if she forgot? What if her mental state, whatever it’s called, made her forget, but she really wants to know?"
"Her senile dementia?"
"Yep, that's the thing."
I realize I'm shaking my head.
"Look Billy, I'm only saying it's a possibility. This is how you investigate things. You make a hypothesis, then you test it."
"So how are you gonna test it?"
"We, partner, are going to go back to see her, and we're going to tell her we know the truth – that she killed him. And if that is true, it'll make her remember. She won't be able to hide it. And we'll record what she says, so we have the evidence."
"But..." There's so many reasons why this is crazy that I don't know where to start. "Principal Sharpe told us we're not allowed to speak to her again."
"She also lied about Henry Jacobs moving to Maui. You really gonna listen to her?"
"We don't know she lied, and she's the school princip..."
"Cos I'm not. Can't you see? She was covering for her mom. That's the reason she doesn't want us speaking to her. Because she knows what really happened to Henry Jacobs. She doesn't want us finding out."
"Or she just doesn't want her mother getting disturbed because she's got – what did you call it?"
Amber shakes her head to dismiss this at once, but then she stops.
"Actually it's a pretty big problem for her isn't it? Here's her mom with this dark secret, who's now going mental, and she could spill it out to anyone."
The Lornea Island Detective Club Page 15