The Lornea Island Detective Club

by Gregg Dunnett

  "With that?" Tucker nods towards the light. Then he sighs.

  "If Vinny's come all the way out here to find me, you better believe he's gonnacome with more than a goddamn flashlight."

  Dad doesn't move.

  "Don't you have a gun?" Tucker asks, and eventually Dad shakes his head.

  "After I got shot I decided I didn't much like them." He hesitates a second, then looks directly at Tucker.

  "You did an armed robbery. Where's the gun from that?"

  But Tucker shakes his head, "I got rid of it. Tossed it in a river."

  There's a silence.

  "You could make a gun," I say, without really thinking if that's a good idea.

  Dad turns on me at once.

  "What?"

  "If you had a 3D printer you could make one. I saw a TV program about it. You can download the plans from the internet."

  Dad doesn't reply, but Tucker looks interested.

  "You got a 3D printer?"

  I shake my head.

  "No. I wanted one but they’re too expensive."

  Tucker stares at me for a while, before looking away.

  Dad flicks the flashlight on. "I'm gonna take a look outside. Make sure there's nothing out of place. Then we'll figure out what the hell to do next." This time Tucker doesn't stop him.

  "Stay here with Billy."

  I don't move, but watch the light from the flashlight flicking around outside. Neither me nor Tucker speak at all. I don't know about him, but I'm tensed up, half expecting to hear the bang from a gun. A few minutes later, Dad comes back inside.

  "Well?" Tucker says, as Dad locks the front door.

  "Nothing," Dad replies. "There's no one there. But we gotta make a plan. We gotta work out what to do."

  We go into the lounge, because we don't have blinds for the kitchen window, and I think we all feel a bit nervous with the light on inside and just this black window open onto the night. I've hardly been in the lounge for ages, not now it's become Tucker's room.

  "How about the police? Any way you can tell them where he is?" Dad asks.

  Tucker's a long time in answering, but eventually he does.

  "I don't know where he is."

  Then Dad doesn't answer for a long while either.

  "And how about you? You reckon maybe you should..."

  "What?" Tucker says, when Dad doesn't finish his sentence.

  Dad sighs. "I don't know. Maybe, go speak to them? Put your side of things. If you weren't involved in this guy getting killed... Maybe you're better off getting ahead of it?"

  Then there's a really long pause while Tucker looks around the room. He drums his fingers on the coffee table, then finally scratches at the stubble on his chin.

  "I dunno man. I think maybe it's too late for that. I already got a record. And what they gonna do to you? They're gonna want to know where I've been this last month. You really reckon they're not gonna pick you up for harboring a fugitive?"

  "So what then?"

  Tucker pauses again. "There ain't much choice is there?" He says in the end. "I just gotta leave. I gotta get outta here." His voice nearly breaks as he says it, and I'm shocked, because he looks like such a tough guy, and now suddenly he's nearly choking up.

  He squeezes his palm against his eyes, as if trying to force them to stop making any tears, and when he pulls his hands down I wonder if I'm wrong, because there's no water there.

  "It wasn't just your dream you know?" He looks at Dad. "The boat. I dreamed about that boat. All the time after you left me. That dream kept me going." His face is tense from where he's trying to stop himself crying.

  "But I guess you're right. The idea that guys like us could ever get a break. It just ain't gonna happen."

  Dad looks awkward for a moment. But when he speaks he's calm.

  "Tomorrow," Dad says. "I'll take you to Goldhaven. You can get a ferry off the island. Find somewhere out of the way and set yourself up... It ain't easy but," he looks around the lounge. "Hell I managed it. It must be possible."

  Dad turns to me. "You better get some sleep."

  I look at him. "What about Vinny?"

  "Tuck and me will take turns staying awake. Chances are he ain't within a thousand miles of here."

  I'm not so sure about this, but I am exhausted. But I do feel pretty bad now. I turn to Tucker.

  "I'm really sorry," I say. "For messing everything up."

  Tucker's face stiffens for a moment, but then it softens into a sad, bitter smile.

  "You didn't do nothing wrong kid. I brought this on myself."

  "But I told Vinny where you were."

  "He would have worked it out." Tucker shakes his head. "Everyone back home knows about your Dad and me. If I disappear, eventually he would have worked it out. It ain't your fault."

  Fifty-Four

  The next morning I wake up in my bed, and for about half a minute I don't remember anything of what happened last night. Then I jump up and look out the window. I don't know what I'm expecting to see, maybe this Vinny character hiding behind Dad's truck. But everything looks normal. Right down to Steven waiting on my windowsill and flapping up and down when he sees me.

  I go downstairs, and find Dad and Tucker already up and in the kitchen, or maybe they never went to sleep. Tucker is making breakfast, spreading peanut butter onto brown toast and throwing it on a plate.

  "Here you go kid," he says, sliding the plate in front of me.

  "Did anything happen?" I ask. "Did Vinny come?"

  Tucker shakes his head. "No. And he ain't gonna come neither. Not when he knows I'm not here. You don't have to worry about that. You shouldn't have to worry neither."

  "So what's going to happen?" I persist.

  Dad looks exhausted, but he tries to smile. "You're gonna go to school, just like normal."

  "And then what?"

  "And then there's a ferry tonight that Tucker's gonna be on. So when you get home everything is gonna go back to normal. Just like it was before." He tries to smile again, but it doesn't come out very well. I know why. Everything before was pretty awful.

  "But one thing," Dad continues, "You gotta stay in school today. I don't want you going off anywhere on your own, OK?"

  I turn to Tucker. I suppose the truth is I've got quite used to having him around.

  "Hey don't worry kid. I'm a big boy. I'll look after myself."

  "Will we ever see you again?" I ask. "Dad?"

  Dad doesn't answer, but after a few moments Tucker does. "You're a pretty good detective Billy. I reckon you'll always be able to find me."

  And after that I have to go to school.

  It's super weird being in school. I mean, it's super weird being in school anyway, just with everything that happened with Mrs. Jacobs and Principal Sharpe and the gym, without wondering what Dad and Tucker are doing. But at the same time, it's kind of nice to know that I don't have to worry about Dad trying to rob the jewelry store. I have to lie to my class teacher about why I wasn't in the last two days, but Dad thought of that and gave me a note, saying I was ill. Luckily you only need a doctor’s note if it's more than three days.

  "Psssst," I need you.

  Amber grabs my arms as she speaks, and she pulls me behind the bank of lockers in the main corridor.

  "What?"

  "Where have you been? I've been looking for you? You haven't been in school for ages."

  Oh that. I think.

  "And you never answer your phone."

  "Sorry. I've been a bit busy."

  "Doing what?"

  It's lunchtime, so I lead her to the library and when we find a quiet corner I explain everything that's happened.

  "Fuuuccckkk!" She says, several times, as I tell her. And her eyes go wide and sparkle like they always do when she gets excited.

  "So he's on the ferry tonight?"

  "Uh huh."

  "That means I won't get to see him again," Amber says, and the sparkle dulls a little.

  "And they weren't going to
rob the jewelry store anyway? They just wanted a loan?"

  I don't answer.

  "I never really thought they were going to rob it," she says. "He's a nice guy."

  In a funny way I think I feel the same way. I mean, he looks scary, and obviously he's an armed robber and not far off from being a murderer, but at the same time, once you get to know him, he's OK. And I think he was quite good for Dad. In a way. I mean sure, Dad should have realized the jewelry was stolen, but at least he made a plan with it. At least he had some ambition. Now what's going to happen? He's just going to go back to scrubbing out the fish warehouse.

  I'm so caught up thinking about all this, that it takes me ages to realize that there's something else Amber is worked up about.

  "Will you please listen?" She says.

  "What?"

  "We need to talk about the Mrs. Jacobs case."

  I half-hear what she says, but it's really hard. Partly because that all seems a long time ago, and not very important anyway, not compared to Dad. But also, we can't do anything more about it, we'll be expelled. I tell this to Amber now, but she just waves it away like it's nothing. So I tell her again.

  "Billy!" Amber waves me away. She's getting frustrated. "Sharpe's only saying that because she's scared. Because we're close to the truth."

  I stare at her, like she's gone mad. Then I realize she’s right. We have to finish this.

  “So what then?” I ask.

  Then the twinkle comes right back into Amber's eyes.

  "I remembered something. We made a mistake."

  Fifty-Five

  "Right back at the beginning," Amber asks. "When we first met with Mrs. Jacobs, do you remember what she said?"

  It's a stupid question really, she said lots of things.

  "Can you be a bit more specific?"

  "She was talking about her husband disappearing. Come on."

  I try to remember. "She said it was at Christmas time." I try.

  "And..?"

  "And... He just walked out? But we know now that he went to live in Hawaii."

  "Bullshit. If that was the truth, then why were the police so keen to dig up the gym? Don't you think they would have checked whether Mr. Jacobs was alive and well before making all that mess?"

  I've never thought about it in those terms. "Did they say that to you? The police?"

  "No. They didn't tell me anything, but it's obvious isn't it? You must have worked that out."

  I don't say anything. I'm trying to think if there's a problem with Amber's logic, and if not, why I hadn't thought of it. I'm usually quite good at working things out.

  "So what are you saying?"

  "I'm saying there can't be any record of Henry Jacobs having ever lived in Maui, at least nothing the police could find. Otherwise they wouldn't have trashed the gym. Which means Principal Sharpe must have been lying."

  Again I struggle to find the flaw in her argument, but the more I think about it, the more I see it's quite good logic.

  "So what else?" Amber asks.

  "What else what?"

  "What else did Mrs. Jacobs say?"

  I try harder to remember, but it's no good. "I don't know. It's too long ago."

  And then Amber pulls out her notebook.

  "Then allow me to remind you," she says, opening the book and leafing through the pages. "Here it is." She holds out the notebook for me to see. I can't read half of it because her handwriting is so bad, but I can make out these words:

  Before Xmas children excited disappears

  "So?" I ask.

  "Look again. Don't you see?"

  I know how much Amber is loving this, but I don't know what she's showing me. I shrug.

  "Children," she says excitedly. "Plural. Principal Sharpe had a brother or sister."

  I think about this for a moment. I think I already knew that.

  "So?" I ask again.

  "So! So there's another witness we can speak to. Someone who isn't mad like Mrs. Jacobs or lying like Principal Sharpe."

  I wait for Amber to go on, but there doesn't seem to be anything else. I can’t help but feel disappointed.

  "Is that it?" I ask in the end.

  "What do you mean is that it?"

  "I mean don't you have any more? Like where they are now, this brother or sister?" I don't bother to ask whether they're likely to want to speak to us. Although the answer to that is pretty obvious. But surprisingly, Amber doesn't sound annoyed, she sounds hopeful.

  "I've been looking," Amber says, pointing to the computer, but I can't find anything. I lean in to see the screen more clearly. She's got multiple search pages open with terms like Wendy Sharpe Lornea Island sister, but none of the results seem to help.

  "The problem is, I reckon, we don't know the name to actually search for." Amber goes on, but I stop listening, and read through the search results. One of them, about half way down the list, is for a genealogy website. It sparks something in my mind.

  "I was thinking, maybe we could just ask Sharpe," Amber continues, and I tune back into her. "But I don't suppose she'll tell us. Not if she's been lying about everything so far."

  I sit back. Trying to catch the idea that's forming. Or maybe the half-idea.

  "So I know you're quite good at this sort of thing, and I wondered if you had any ideas for how to find them?"

  I pull the keyboard towards me and start typing.

  "What are you doing?" Amber asks, but I’m too busy to answer.

  Do you remember I told you, my name isn't really Billy Wheatley? Or at least, it wasn't when I was born. My Dad changed it when he took me away after my mom tried to drown me. But since we were technically on the run, he didn't change it properly, not legally. But then, a few months after all that got sorted out, we had to make it legal. And the way we did it, we had to spend ages and ages at the records office, here in Newlea, trying to get all the paperwork sorted. And Dad doesn't really have that much patience for that sort of thing, so once we'd started, I ended up doing a lot of it. Or helping anyway. To be honest, the lady at the records office, Mrs. Richards, did a lot of it. I got to know her quite well.

  "There'll be a birth certificate." I say, as I'm typing.

  "You what?"

  "If Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs had children on the island, there must be birth certificates for them. They'll be in the records office."

  Amber's leans in close enough that I can smell her skin. "See, I knew you were good at this stuff Billy."

  I glance across to see her mouth curving up in a warm smile. The light is beginning to dance in her eyes. "I didn't even know there was such a place."

  "It's at the town hall. On the first floor, it's right at the back."

  Amber grins a goofy smile at me.

  "And you can access it from here? You can search it?"

  I'm on the website now, Amber leans in, she sounds anxious.

  “For some stuff… I’m just checking now.” I sit back. “No. You have to go there in person.”

  "Oh shit. Well can we? Will they let us in?"

  I think back to how Mrs. Richards would bake trays of brownies especially for when we had appointments. She'd put one on a plate for me, and then insist I took the rest home in a Tupperware. They were really nice brownies.

  "I think we'll be just fine."

  I start putting my things in my bag, thinking we're going to leave straight away, but then there's a problem. Nothing major, just a hiccup.

  "We'll have to go after class," Amber says.

  "Why not now?"

  "I can't. Sharpe's got all my classes registering if I turn up or not. You know she's looking for any excuse to kick me out of school."

  "But the records office closes at four."

  We're both silent for a moment.

  Amber turns back to the computer, frustrated. "Well how about tomorrow?”

  “It always closes at four. It’s ten to four, Monday to Friday.”

  Amber looks irritated. She clicks her jaw.

  "
Then you’ll have to go. You can sneak out now before afternoon classes start.”

  I don’t like this idea, but I don’t immediately know why not.

  "I'm not meant to miss class either," I remind her.

  "Yeah but they're not recording your attendance," Amber says. "So you won't get caught."

  I hesitate. If I do get caught, there’s a good chance that Principal Sharpe will expel me. But more than that, Dad told me I had to stay in school. I haven’t told Amber about Vinny. I didn’t want to admit the part where I answered his phone call. And I can’t really tell her now.

  Amber turns to me and asks in a really pleading voice.

  "Come on Billy," She says. "Just go and find out. We've got to know. This could be the key that explains everything."

  I tell myself not to worry about things that aren’t gonna happen. And I nod my head.

  Fifty-Six

  We go down to the main entrance hall together and walk casually through, checking to see if the receptionists are behind their desk or not. Annoyingly they are. So we have to wait in the corridor the other side of the lobby.

  "I'll tell you when it's clear," Amber says, then she ducks back into the hall and pretends to read something on the school notice board. I wait, wishing I'd managed to say no to this. I’m going to be finished if I get caught. But then there's a low whistle, and I don't have a choice, so I take a deep breath and step out of the corridor. The entrance hall is unmanned, the receptionists back in their room.

  I keep walking, expecting any moment to hear them call out my name. I feel their eyes on my back as I pull open the door and step outside. And then even more so as I walk across the parking lot and out towards the gate. But I don't hear anything, just my footsteps. And then I'm past the gate and out of sight. I breathe a sigh of relief. Then I break into a jog. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  "Well well. If it isn't young Billy Wheatley!"

  That's Mrs. Richards. I was a bit worried, as I was walking here, I thought that maybe she might have retired, or died. I didn't think she'd get another job, because apparently she's worked here forever. And I knew she wouldn’t forget me.