And it’s hard to feel too bad when you’re about to be visited by a sausage dog.
But my brother doesn’t even notice them coming. That’s why I’m a detective and he isn’t. He doesn’t notice anything.
He starts reading out facts from his computer.
“The blue-ringed octopus,” reads my brother (with evil pleasure), “has a store of tetrodotoxin behind its salivary gland—where it has enough poison to kill twenty-eight people.”
I go cold.
“Upon contact with the poison,” continues my brother, “the victims first lose all liquid around their mouths, then they go stiff, then they get paralyzed, then they die.”
“So that’s what poisoned Corner Boy’s dad!” I say.
“We don’t know that!” says Seamus.
“We do!” I tell him. “And we definitely do not want Mom eating at that restaurant! We have to keep her from going!”
“Rory,” says my brother, “you cannot let Mom find you being a detective again. I swear she may actually just bite your head clean off.”
“Well, that’s a risk I’m going to have to take,” I tell him, “if I’m going to save her life! At the very least I have to warn Mom of the danger.”
“She will kill you,” says my brother.
“She won’t literally kill me,” I say. “But if she eats poison, she might literally die.”
My mind is now made up. I am thinking: I am definitely scared of crime lords and poisoners, I am now scared of the blue-ringed octopus, and I most definitely am scared of my mom, and I definitely don’t want to upset her again.
But more than that I want to get at the truth of what’s happened.
I feel it doesn’t matter if the truth is a long, long way off and it’s on the other side of cold, stormy seas.
I must get to it.
“You can’t stop me,” I tell my brother. “I need to warn Mom.”
“No,” says my brother. “You need to play Boggle with Mrs. Welkin.”
“No, you need to play Boggle with Mrs. Welkin!”
“I’ll go now,” says my brother, “and I’ll tell Mrs. Welkin you’ll be right down, ready to play Boggle.”
“You do that!” I answer. And he does.
And I immediately climb out my window toward Cassidy. I tell her everything.
“Give it five minutes,” I say. “Then knock, loud. Say you need me.”
“All right, Mr. Detective!” she says. “I will!”
CHAPTER TEN
Reinforcements Arrive. And We Go Out to Beat the Bejesus Out of the Baddies
Five minutes later, I am playing Boggle with Mrs. Welkin.
I’m also with Wilkins.
I swear he thinks he’s a detective too! He is standing with his feet up on the sofa, and he’s looking out, growling, as if he’s heard a rumor that there are some bad cats out there, and he wants to get them.
Suddenly there’s a huge banging on the door. It’s as if we’ve been attacked by a pack of wolves.
“Rory!” shouts a voice.
“Sorry about this,” I say to Mrs. Welkin.
As I open the door, I see a last burst of evening light beaming into the hallway. I also see Cassidy Callaghan, and she is smiling like a cat.
“Are you ready?” she says.
“Wait,” I say.
I put on the hat she gave me earlier. I also put on the coat my mom bought me last week. It suddenly seems a whole lot cooler.
“You look deadly!” says Cassidy, smiling more. “In fact, I am going to call you Deadly Branagan!”
“And you look like a big cat,” I tell her. “I am going to call you Cassidy ‘the Cat’ Callaghan!”
“I like it!” she says.
Just then Wilkins arrives, and right away he goes to the front door. He pokes his nose outside, sniffing for cats.
“Mrs. Welkin,” I shout, “I am just going next door to my friend’s for one or two hours!”
“All right, dear!” she calls.
“Can I take Wilkins?” I ask. (She knows I love Wilkins!)
“All right,” she calls.
And I am very pleased about that.
And the moment we step out onto the street all the streetlights come on together, and just for a moment I feel as if . . . I have my coat, my hat, my Sidekick, and also a brave dog who thinks he’s a detective, and I feel that . . .
I am Deadly Branagan, and I am ready for anything.
As we go down the road an ambulance is outside Corner Boy’s house. Stephen Maysmith is standing around the back, as if he’s waiting for fish and chips.
“I found out that Mr. Gilligan might have eaten food that had tetrodotoxin in it,” I tell him. Then I say it again, so the ambulance men will definitely hear. “Tetrodotoxin,” I say.
“Thank you,” says Mr. Maysmith. “I wouldn’t worry yourself. We also found out he may have eaten nuts to which, we believe, he was allergic.”
“Did you hear that?” I say to Cassidy. “They thought that Guinea Pig had been poisoned by nuts. So telling them about the tetrodotoxin could maybe have saved his life.”
She just prowls onward.
“And this could save ours,” I say. And I pick up Corner Boy’s spear.
As we stride off down the street I can’t help but smile.
“What are you smiling about?” asks my Sidekick.
“That finally I feel like we’re getting to the bottom of things,” I tell her.
“Do you?” she says.
“Oh yes!” I tell her. “I feel like we’re getting to the bottom of the bottom.”
“And when we get to the bottom of the bottom,” says the Cat, “do you think we’ll find a poop?”
“Well, if we do,” I say, “we’ll take it home and give it to my brother.” We both laugh.
5.6 minutes later, we’re outside the Deadly Pirate.
We tie Wilkins to the lamppost. He immediately turns and sniffs. There is something down that alleyway that bothers him.
I am crouching by the trash cans. But in my head I am making a diagram of EVERYTHING THAT I KNOW about what might lie ahead.
Meanwhile Cassidy scampers out into the middle of the road, checks the restaurant, then comes back.
“I saw your mom,” she says. “She is with a man.”
“Who?” I ask.
“I couldn’t see him very well,” she says. “But let’s go in.” She heads toward the front.
“But wait,” I tell her. “I don’t think you should just walk in like that. Because it would be best if I could see first, who my mom is actually with, and what she’s talking about.”
“Good thinking,” says Cassidy. “So how will we get in?”
“Like this!” I say. And I turn and sprint off down the alleyway.
At the end the wooden door to the yard is shut.
But I don’t care about that.
I spring onto the door handle and then leap right over, like Cassidy.
For a moment I am Rory Branagan, Super-Detective, and I’m flying in to the rescue!
The next moment I smack the ground (which is a lot farther down than I was expecting).
I am actually quite winded.
Meanwhile Cassidy just walks through the door, all casual.
“You OK?” she asks.
“Yes!” I tell her. “Except for the big pig.”
There actually is a big pig. He comes waddling toward me.
“Why would they keep a pig in the back?” I ask.
“To eat the scraps,” says the Cat. “Also to eat anyone who tries to come in the back.”
I leap out.
I go over to the Cat, who now is by the back door of the kitchen.
We peek inside. I see Belly Man from the alleyway. He is scraping food off p
lates with his fingers. In the kitchen, there’s Dracula. He’s standing by a man who’s chopping something. This guy has a knife and a huge hairy eyebrow like a caterpillar.
Just then Auntie Jo comes into the kitchen. We run back outside.
“So which one of them is the crime lord?” I whisper.
“Oh,” she says, “a man like that has someone else to do his dirty work. That’s why you’ll never catch a crime lord.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s obvious,” she says. “But someone here is working for the crime lord. They’re the one who has done the poisoning. They’re still the murderer. And we have to work out which of the four suspects did it.”
I am thinking of all four suspects.
Belly Man
Dracula
Eyebrow
Auntie Jo
Now the questions are swirling in my head once again, but now they’re all asking the same thing.
I’m thinking . . .
“I think it’s Belly Man from the alleyway,” I say.
“But he is only cleaning the plates,” she says. “So he’s not in the best place to put in the poison.”
“So then it’s the one who looks like Dracula,” I say.
“Why?”
“I just don’t like him.”
“Master Your Emotions,” she tells me, “and Investigate the Facts.”
“Who do you think it is?” I ask.
“I think it’s your Auntie Jo,” says Cassidy.
I say nothing. Even thinking it might be Jo makes me feel like I’m drowning in dark slimy water that’s filled with snakes and confusing questions.
I am thinking . . .
I’m thinking . . .
I’m thinking . . .
Then I’m thinking: I need to get inside.
“It could be two people working together,” says Cassidy. “This is what we must find out.”
Suddenly I am so scared. But she smiles.
“So,” she says (eyes gleaming). “Shall we go in?”
I do not want to go in. But just then Belly Man appears at the back door, holding a bucket.
We go as silent as statues.
We’re also as silent as statues at the bottom of the sea.
Belly Man has now gone past. Cassidy then grins at me, as if to say: this is our chance. And I can feel my heart bump-bump-bumping.
I count: one, two, three . . . I am about to go in.
“You coming?” says Cassidy.
“Try stopping me!” I say.
And, together, we enter the scene of the crime.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Entering the Scene of the Crime
We both float through the first room. When we reach the kitchen the only person there is Eyebrow, chopping. For a moment it looks as if we might be able to float right by him.
But then Dracula appears.
We both duck behind the fridge. Dracula talks quietly to Eyebrow. We just stay stock-still, and as we do, the questions are swirling in my head like sharks.
I am thinking . . .
And . . .
And . . .
And a moment later I get my answers. From here we can see into the restaurant. I can’t see Mom yet, but I can see the tank.
Just then Jo steps toward it. She holds a skewer of food out to the octopus.
Suddenly his rings go dark, and he attacks the skewer, and you can tell he’s biting it with lethal poison.
Meanwhile, I am just looking at Auntie Jo. She is completely still. Her eyes are totally cold.
And as I look at her I am completely still as well.
First I am shocked.
Then I am paralyzed (as if my insides were filled with stinging jellyfish).
Then I am as cold as a detective standing on the thick ice of the North Pole, and I think:
Oh my God, that is not my Auntie Jo. That is a stone-cold killer, who needs to be put in prison.
But then I see that she’s walking toward us. We dodge back behind the fridge.
She gives the poisoned meat to Eyebrow. He has two other skewers in front of him. He starts adding the poisoned meat to one of them.
Then he and Jo stare at each other, and only now do I think: Whose food is it that they are wanting to poison? Could it be Mom’s?
Auntie Jo turns and places the empty skewer carefully in the trash can. Eyebrow places his knife in the trash can.
For about 0.48 seconds they are both turned away.
In that moment I see there are now two skewers with meat. I see that one could be Mom’s. I don’t want ANYONE to be poisoned, but most of all I need to save Mom. But which is her plate?
One of them is piled high with spinach, which my mom loves. That must be her plate. It’s the one with the poisoned skewer. I switch the skewers around.
Just then Jo starts to turn. Cassidy and I both duck down totally silently and leave.
We have gotten through the kitchen without anyone noticing us.
In the restaurant we squat down beside a big plant.
As I peer around it, I see Mom. (She’s all dressed up with lots of makeup, which makes me feel a little sick.)
Through the plant I see Mrs. Daniels, who is now tucking into her pudding.
But who is Mom talking to? I peek around the plant again. I see . . .
Stephen Maysmith the police detective!!
He is looking at her with a big smile smeared over his big cheesy face. I do not like the way he is looking at her.
But what are they talking about?
“And this is Michael Mulligan,” says Maysmith, and he passes over a picture, of a fierce man with a beard.
“Do you know him?” asks Maysmith.
“No,” says Mom, and she shuts her eyes.
What? I’m thinking. Is she lying? Does she know Mulligan?
“And this is Jack ‘Muscle’ Thompson,” says Maysmith.
“Why would I know a person like that?” asks Mom.
“We know Thompson has people working and living in this area,” says Maysmith.
He looks at Mom.
I look at Jo. She’s hovering with the skewers, looking white.
“And how about this?” says Maysmith, passing over another picture.
It’s my dad!
“Well, that’s my husband,” says Mom.
“Yes,” says the detective. “Where do you think he is?”
The questions are definitely swirling like sharks now.
I’m thinking . . .
I’m thinking . . .
I’m thinking . . .
But Mom says nothing, and just then Jo steps forward and serves the food.
My mom lifts her skewer, and I see it’s the poisoned one.
“NO!” I shout.
“Do NOT eat that!”
My mom can’t believe I’m here. Nor can Jo.
“Rory!” says Mom.
“It’s poisoned!” I say.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she says.
“It’s the same stuff that poisoned Guinea Pig Gilligan!”
“It certainly doesn’t look poisoned,” says Mom. “And it costs fourteen ninety-five.”
My mom hates waste. She’d almost rather be poisoned than waste fourteen ninety-five.
I look at Jo.
I’m thinking: Does she know she’s given Mom the poisoned skewer? I’m thinking: Is that what she wants?
But I can’t wait to find out. Mom is about to eat. I spring into action.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Action.
Fast, Lethal Action
I leap forward and fwap the skewer off Mom’s plate. It flips through the air, landing in front of Mrs. Daniels.
She lea
ps to her feet. Maysmith stands too.
His chair hits Mrs. Daniels in the back of the legs.
She goes down like a tree being chopped.
Her hair falls in the candle, and goes up like a torch.
I grab a glass of water and splash it—direct hit—on her head.
I think I got the flames the first time, but I take no chances. I grab the water jug, and dash the whole thing right over Mrs. Daniels’s hair.
S
p
l
a
s
h.
(It feels good!)
“What are you doing, you crazy fool!”shouts Maysmith.
He grabs me, but I wriggle away like an eel.
“It’s not me you want!” I shout, pointing at Auntie Jo and Eyebrow, who are watching from the kitchen. “It’s them! She is the one who decides who to get, then she tells him, and he poisons them.”
“But why would Jo want to poison me?” says Mom.
“It’s him they want!” I shout, pointing at Maysmith. “He knows Muscle Thompson has people working here. And I know Jo’s done the poisoning, and that’s why she’s about to leave.”
“What do you mean?” says Mom, looking at Jo.
Rory Branagan Page 4