I open my mouth to protest again, how Principal Sharpe has letters from her dad which prove her mom didn't kill him, but I can tell I'm not going to get anywhere. Amber has convinced herself. So I try a different issue.
"How are you going to do it? We don't have any secret recording equipment."
And then Amber leans down to her bag, with a broad grin.
"Oh yes we do." She pulls out a tangle of black cables. "I borrowed this from the music department. All we have to do is tape this under your clothes and plug it into a phone. She's never going to search us is she?"
As she speaks I can't help but picture a miniature, secret microphone, like the type you see in spy movies. But the microphone she pulls out isn't one of those. It's like of those ones you clip onto a shirt, that the newsreaders wear. I guess you could call it discreet maybe, but it's definitely not secret.
"Why me? Why do I have to wear it?"
"Because I'm gonna be the one asking all the questions, so she'll be looking at me more, and she might see it."
"I don't know." I say, after considering all this.
"What do you mean you don't know? What is there to know?"
"I don't know if we should. I mean, after what Principal Sharpe said. What if Mrs. Jacobs tells her that we tried to speak to her again?"
"She can't stop us speaking to her. She's our client. Besides, you saw what a lonely old lady she is. She'll be pleased to see us. And, if we're wrong, it'll give us the chance to report back what we found out. We can tell her we discovered her husband moved away to Maui. If it is true, we should tell her that at least."
I think about this for a while. I guess it makes sense when she puts it like that.
"I can't go tonight." I tell her. "Dad's back and I want to see him.
"OK." For the first time Amber looks reasonable. "Are you gonna tell him about Tucker? About how he's casing out jewelry shops?"
I nod. I don't know how I'm going to tell him. But I know I do have to.
But then when I get home and look on VesselTrack, Dad's boat is still quite a long way out from the island, and I realize I misjudged how slowly it goes. I discover you can measure the actual distance on the screen, and since I know the boat's speed, I do my calculations properly this time, and I work out that Ocean Harvest will dock at about 10 tonight. I guess he'll have to help unload too, so probably won't get back here till midnight. I won't be able to tell him about Tucker then, so it will have to be in the morning, before I go to school. Then Dad can throw him out and I don't have to be part of it.
At least Tucker isn't here this evening. There's still half of the vegetable lasagna in the refrigerator, and he's left a note on the table saying he had to go out, and I should eat it.
So I catch up a bit more on my homework and tidy the house a bit, for Dad. It's not going to be easy to tell him about Tucker. Dad'll ask how I know about him, and he'll think I've been snooping, which he hates. I've just got to hope he'll understand it was the right thing to do, because of what I ended up finding out. But you never know with Dad.
I'm still thinking about this when, just before I go to bed, I break into Dad's emails. I actually do this from time to time, not because I'm being nosy, or snooping or anything, but just to keep an eye on things. A lot of the bills for the house come in by email, and I need to know if Dad's on top of them. So I scan his inbox a bit absently, and I'm about to click away when I see something that stops me dead. It's an email from Tucker, sitting in Dad's inbox. It's already been opened, I guess Dad in range of the shore now and he's seen it on his phone. So I click the message to see what it says. and after a moment it opens.
It's really short, just an email link and four words:
How about this one?
Confused, I click the link, and then my screen fills with a familiar looking website. It's the one with the couple spinning around on the beach, showing off the diamonds on their fingers. Carter's Jewelry. Tucker's sent it to Dad. Which means...
Which means I don't need to tell Dad that Tucker is looking for a jewelry store to hold up.
Because Dad already knows.
Thirty-Six
My dad isn't a bad person, I just want to take a moment to say that. It's just he's had a really tough life. When he was growing up his mom and dad had no money at all. So Dad couldn't afford to go to college, or even finish high school because he had to get a job or they wouldn't have been able to eat. Then he must have thought his life was going to get better when he met my mom, because she came from a family that had loads of money, and lived in this big house. But then my Mom went mad and murdered my sister, and tried to kill me, and her family blamed it all on Dad, so he had no choice but to run away here with me, in secret. So it didn’t really.
And if that wasn't bad enough, then Dad got involved in all the stuff that happened here. But that was just bad luck. He started dating this girl who seemed really nice on the outside, but turned out to be a murderer, and then Dad got blamed for the girl she killed. And even now, half the town doesn't really believe he was completely innocent even though she’s in prison for it. So if he's involved in Tucker's idea to rob a jewelry store then it's only because he's desperate. He just wants to earn enough money so we can both live here and have folk leave us in peace.
Even so I can't get to sleep for worrying. I keep trying to work out what to actually do. There's no point me telling Dad about Tucker, because obviously Dad already knows.
And I can't go to the police now either. Because if they came to arrest Tucker, they'll also look into his emails, and they'll work out that Dad is part of the plan too.
I can't even tell Amber about it, because... Well, because Amber's basically insane.
And I know that things like this always seem worse in the night, and not so bad in the morning. But even so I can't stop myself crying. Just a little bit. And once I start crying, pretty soon my pillow is all wet, because I'm crying quite a lot.
But after that I do feel a bit better. And just in time, because then I hear the noise of an engine outside, and I peek out the window, and I see Dad and Tucker getting out of Dad's truck. And I see how they're laughing and joking with each other, and Dad looks really happy. And I don't know what to feel about that. I'm pleased to see Dad again, and I want him to be happy. But I'm terrified about what he's going to do.
Quickly I wipe my eyes and get back into bed. I pretend to be reading a book, so that when Dad comes in, to tell me he's back and he's safe, he can't tell that I've been crying. I hear them both, still laughing downstairs, for quite a long time, but eventually I hear the squeak of footsteps on the stairs. I wipe my face again, and get ready for Dad to come in.
But then he doesn't. I hear the sounds of him in the bathroom. And then his bedroom door opening, and then shutting again. And then nothing. So I'm left there, holding the book I'm not really reading.
So eventually I just put it down, and try and go to sleep.
Thirty-Seven
I'm a bit vacant in school the next morning, so when Amber catches up with me and tells me we're sneaking off for the afternoon to see Mrs. Jacobs, I don't even try to argue with her. It's easy to leave. There's a teacher by the gate, but she's only checking students who are walking in, and we're in Amber's mom's car, driving out.
Once we're out of Newlea she stops and tells me to take off my shirt. Again I do what she says without arguing. She's got some of that silver sticky tape that sticks to anything, and she pulls off long strips of it, and uses it to tape the microphone leads around my body and to my back. We put the actual microphone just below the neckline at the front of my t-shirt. When I put it all back on I can't move because the tape pulls and rips at my skin.
"Has that Vinny guy replied yet?" Amber asks as she's pressing the tape back down on my chest. "To the message we sent?"
I sense my body tensing up, and force it to relax. I'd forgotten about that.
"No."
"How about your Dad? Did he get back last night? Have you told
him about Tucker planning to hit the jewelry store?"
"No."
"Relax will you? You'll put the tape off."
"I am relaxed. Just stop picking on me."
Amber doesn't mention it again.
I know why, it's because she's distracted. She's super excited about what we're doing. I've figured out how to tell with Amber. It’s in the way her eyes go really shiny. She totally believes that Mrs. Jacobs murdered Mr. Jacobs, instead of him just going away like Principal Sharpe told us. And she really seems to believe she's going to persuade Mrs. Jacobs to confess to it. It’s ridiculous. But then so is Amber half the time. But I suppose she is right about telling Mrs. Jacobs what we've learnt. Probably Mrs. Jacobs is too mad to understand, but just maybe she won't be, and maybe it’ll even help her. And if that's the case then maybe we could hold onto the $5000 check. I still haven't quite decided what we should do about that.
We pull up outside Mrs. Jacobs’ house and Amber fusses about with my wires again before we get out of the car. Until I knock her hand away, because Mrs. Jacobs will have heard us arrive, and might be looking out of the window.
"Alright. Easy Billy," Amber says. Then she presses record on her iPhone, and slips it into my pocket. And then she gives me an excited look, then we get out of the car and walk to the front door.
Amber rings the bell and we wait for a while, but nothing happens. I start to feel a bit relieved, because I don't really want to do this, now that I'm here. I think it's stupid, and I think we could get into a lot of trouble.
"Come on. Let's go back to school." I say. "She's not in. Even if she was, she wouldn't tell us anything."
Amber presses the doorbell again. And then she uses her fist to bang on the door.
"Shit," she murmurs.
"Come on," I say again. "Let's get back before we’re missed..." But then the door suddenly opens. Just a crack, only as far as the security chain allows it. There's a rustling sound from inside, and we can see a strip of Mrs. Jacob's face. Just wide enough to see her eyes looking back, milky and a bit scared.
"Mrs. Jacobs? It's Amber. From the detective agency. We said we'd come to meet you?"
The eyes blink slowly. They look confused.
"Detective agency?" I didn't remember from before how old she sounds.
"The one you hired, Mrs. Jacobs." Amber is speaking really loudly now, and the poor old lady winces away from the sound, like it hurts her ears.
"To find out what happened to your husband."
The eyes come back again, blinking. Even though I can't see much I feel sorry for her, and I hope she won't let us in, because I'm worried about what Amber wants to do to her.
"To Henry, Mrs. Jacobs. Remember? Your husband Henry? He disappeared that Christmas. You asked us to find out what happened to him."
Then Mrs. Jacob's eyes rotate in their sockets as they inspect first Amber and then me. I feel awkward standing so close, it's like I can feel the wires of the microphone standing out through the thin fabric of my shirt.
"My husband?"
"That's right Mrs. Jacobs. We've got some news." Amber bites her lip hopefully. "Can we come in please?"
Suddenly the door shuts, and I feel slightly hopeful for a second that maybe she won’t let us in. But of course she’s just taking the security chain off. It rattles for ages, like she's struggling with it, and then the door slowly opens again, but all the way this time.
I'd forgotten how stooped over she is. And how crazy. She's only wearing one blouse today, but it’s two buttons out of alignment. It makes her look lopsided. Amber slides a quick look at me.
"Thanks you Mrs. Jacobs. We appreciate it."
Mrs. Jacobs does a sort of smile, and then she stands back from the door. Amber walks in, and then I don't have any choice but to follow her in.
I remember the big hallway, the oil paintings. It all seems darker this time. Then I get a weird thought. I can suddenly imagine Principal Sharpe running around here as a nine year old who just lost her dad. But she's not like a real nine year old, she's like a miniature Principal Sharpe, just scaled down to be the same size as a child.
Then Mrs. Jacobs shuts the front door, making it even darker. She puts the security chain back on. It takes her ages again, and while she does it Amber and I just stand there waiting. But eventually she gets it, and that's a relief in itself. I wonder if she's going to take us somewhere crazy to talk this time, like into her bathroom. But again she leads us out into the garden, just like before.
"Could I get you a drink? Some coffee perhaps? Or some iced tea?" Mrs. Jacobs asks, and we both say no straight away, but she doesn't seem to hear.
"I'm sure I've got a soda somewhere. I won't be a moment." She waves her hand, and Amber and me are left there for a moment, looking around her garden again.
"What are you going to tell her?" I ask. The truth is I've been a bit distracted all day, with all the Tucker and Dad stuff, and I haven't really thought through what we're doing here.
"I told you," Amber say. "We’re gonna tell her what we’ve found out and get her to confess ."
"But what about..." I don't finish what I'm saying because then Mrs. Jacobs returns with two cans of 7 UP on a tray. She sets it down and makes a big thing about giving us both coasters.
"I know what you young people are like with spillages," she says and winks at me.
I pick up my 7 UP and notice the tab is already open. I sniff it, a bit suspicious. But it seems alright, I get a nose full of fizz, so I take a sip.
"Now dear," Mrs. Jacobs says to Amber. "You said you found out something about Henry?"
I'm glad she asks Amber, because I don't have a plan for what we're supposed to say. I don't see how we can say how Principal Sharpe – her own daughter – told us about Mr. Jacobs running off with another woman. Nor how she – Mrs. Jacobs – must have known this, only now she's forgotten because she's gone mad. How's that going to make her feel? As it happens, I don't think Amber knows what to say either, because she starts off by explaining how we discovered Henry was the Principal of Newlea High School when he went missing, and how we searched the newspaper archives for information about it. And all the time Mrs. Jacobs sits there with a whole series of looks on her face, from confused, to nodding, to angry.
"But I know all this!" She says, when Amber finally stops. Then she looks at me.
And that makes Amber look at me too. So I have to say something.
"We spoke to your daughter. Or rather, she spoke to us. She's our school Principal."
There's a moment when Mrs. Jacobs smiles, I suppose at the mention of her daughter, but then she looks totally baffled.
"Your school principal?"
"We go to Newlea High School. You know she's the principal there now?"
"Well yes. Of course. But..." she lifts a frail hand and points at me. "You're a student at Wendy's school?"
“We both are.”
There's a moment of silence, then I try to smile. Amber isn't looking very happy. But what am I supposed to say?
"She told us..."
"But you're detectives. She told me you were detectives." Mrs. Jacobs spins in her chair and stares at Amber again, but she's more confused than angry.
"We are detectives. We're just students as well."
There's an odd moment when I don't know how Mrs. Jacobs is going to take it, but then she laughs.
"My my. Good heavens. I did think you were rather young." Mrs. Jacobs pauses, her face screws up again, like something's just occurred to her.
"But Wendy doesn't know what happened to Henry."
I'm not sure what she means by that, so I decide to correct her.
"Actually Mrs. Jacobs, that's what we need to..." But I don't get to finish my sentence because there's a sudden change in Mrs. Jacobs. She suddenly sits up straighter in her chair, appears less frail. And her voice hardens. It’s like what happened the first time we were here.
"She doesn't know anything that girl. Never bloody did!"
"What did she tell you?" Mrs. Jacobs demands. "What did that stupid girl say?"
I look at Amber, trying to get her to take over again, but her eyes are wide and she just nods, urging me on. And I can feel Mrs. Jacobs eyes too. Piercing and sharp. Suddenly mean. I go on, as carefully as I can.
"She said your husband left the island with another lady. That he started a new life with her. In Hawaii. He wrote letters. To Principal Sharpe. That's how she knows."
Mrs. Jacobs eyes flare with something, surprise, perhaps. But she doesn't speak.
"I'm really sorry," I start to say, but then she interrupts me.
"The goddamn hell he did!" She suddenly explodes. "There's no way that man was ever going to leave me. I made damn sure of that."
There's a long silence. All I can hear is the birds tweeting, and the rolling of the surf at the bottom of the rock cliffs.
"Could you say that again Mrs. Jacobs." I hear Amber asking, but it's from a long way away.
"Say what again?" She snaps.
"What you just said. About how you made sure he wouldn't leave you? What did you mean by that?"
There's another shift in Mrs. Jacobs, and for a moment I think the sweet old lady is back. Or maybe I just hope that's what happens, because this version is scary. But I'm wrong. She’s someone else again. Less angry, but more lucid.
"Henry was never going to leave me. I made him respectable. My family had all the money. Oh no..." her hand comes up again, even that looks somehow less frail than it did before.
"No. I killed him." She sits back and smiles, her lips drawing back to show her old, stained teeth and blood-red gums.
Amber's staring at me now, and there's all sorts in the look on her face. Like she's telling me how she told me so, and that I'd better be recording this.
The Lornea Island Detective Club Page 16