Finally, we headed back to Mum’s for a celebration party, though celebration was probably the wrong word. While Mum and Uncle Pike got changed I had my session with my counsellor on the phone in my bedroom. She asked if I felt safe, and after I said yes, we spent the hour talking about death—what I knew about it, what I knew about suicide and my thoughts on it.
She interrupted only once, when I talked about Dad committing suicide. ‘We don’t say committed suicide, not anymore. Took his own life, or ended his life. Committed refers back to when suicide was considered a criminal act.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Uh-huh,’ I said, gripping the handset tighter. Whatever, it was my dad who had ‘taken his life’, not hers.
‘Words matter, Tippy,’ my counsellor said.
Sometimes it felt like she was asking the same questions over and over again, really basic stuff about dying as if she thought I was a baby. I guess after me not realising about Dad’s suicide for a whole year, it made sense my counsellor would no longer assume I knew anything about anything. When we finished, she told me we would talk more about Dad next week. She made me write down a special number to call if I felt unsafe or needed to talk urgently. I passed the phone to Mum who spoke to her for a couple of minutes in her room.
I felt okay after my chat, until I thought about Dad and him leaving us like that. My fists clenched and I wondered if I would ever not feel this rage. I blew out a big breath and unclenched, shaking my hands out. I pulled off my T-shirt to get changed when Devon, Mrs Brown and Melanie appeared outside my window. Shit. I ducked down, covering my chest until they disappeared to the balcony. My face felt hot. So embarrassing. I quickly got changed and went out to the living room. Everyone was hanging around the kitchen table. Mum sat with Uncle Pike, changing his dressing.
‘Isn’t Mr Brown coming?’ Devon asked Mrs Brown.
She patted his arm. ‘He’s in the toilet. Don’t worry, he can’t move from there.’
Uncle Pike cringed and not from Mum cleaning his dog bite.
Melanie sat and took off her heels. ‘My feet are killing me. I haven’t worn these shoes for ages.’
No one mentioned my nudie-rude moment. I brushed my fringe out of my eye and felt a pimple at my hair line. Great.
Mrs Brown called across the room to me. ‘Oh, you’ve found your little pimple. Who’s a grown-up girl now!’
I gritted my teeth, blushing again. Sweat broke out under my armpits.
Melanie glanced at Mrs Brown over her phone. ‘Stop infantilising Tippy, Phyllis.’
I avoided them and hid in the kitchen, getting the wineglasses for Mum.
‘What happened to Chuck’s trophy?’ Uncle Pike asked.
‘I don’t think it’s a trophy,’ Mum said, wrapping his hand in a clean bandage.
‘Maybe he didn’t win one?’ Mrs Brown said, joining me in the kitchen. ‘Can I help Helen? I can get the crackers and cheese out if you like?’
‘Sure,’ Mum said. ‘You know where everything is, Phyllis.’ Uncle Pike kissed her on the cheek as she packed up the first-aid kit.
I put the glasses on the table then headed back into the kitchen to help Mrs Brown, but she shooed me away. I decided to try one last push to get information on Mr Tulips before the Nancys had to give up this case. I never thought that would be an option but, now, with Uncle Pike and Devon split and the feeling that we weren’t being told the whole truth … Like that feeling I had all last year. I bit the inside of my cheek. No matter what we had tried, maybe this was the end. But Nancy Drew had never failed. Just one more try. I leaned against the sink.
‘Did Mr Tulips have any enemies?’ I asked Mrs Brown.
She put down the salsa dip jar. ‘That’s the strange thing,’ she said. ‘He was loved by everyone. Literally in some cases.’
Devon called out, ‘I hear you.’
‘He killed two people and injured two others, one severely,’ Melanie said. ‘Let’s not forget that when we’re saying how wonderful he was.’
Mrs Brown stiffened.
I totally agreed with Melanie but we needed more information.
‘Why did he do it?’ I asked Mrs Brown.
The room went quiet and she grabbed my hand, hers warm and dry. ‘I wish I knew. That’s all I keep asking myself: why? I just wished I’d talked to him more the last time I saw him.’
‘When was that?’ Uncle Pike asked.
‘Up at the vet, picking up cattle drench on the way to the farm,’ she said. ‘He seemed in such a hurry to leave.’
‘Was that last Saturday?’ I remembered they had gone the day before Uncle Pike and Devon arrived in Riverstone.
Mrs Brown nodded. Three days before the van explosion. I tried to catch Uncle Pike or Devon’s eyes but they both were looking at the table. She popped the snacks down on the table and we both sat down. I reached over and grabbed a handful of chips.
Mrs Brown patted her hair then raised her wineglass to Devon and Mum. ‘I am so proud of both of you.’ We all clinked our glasses and sculled.
Uncle Pike stood and topped everyone up with wine, except me and Melanie who had lemonade.
‘Just doing my job,’ Mum said, as she cut cheese for the crackers.
Mrs Brown took a sip and leaned over to me. ‘Always too modest, your mum.’
I nodded and grinned at Mum, a hero. She rolled her eyes then threw a stuffed olive at me.
‘Got to hand it to you, Lucy,’ Melanie said to Devon, ‘you know how to work it.’
‘But the service did seem rather queer, don’t you think?’ Mrs Brown said.
‘Thank you,’ Devon said. ‘It was a good community turnout, with the Mayor and her wife and, of course, Pete.’
‘Yes, Phyllis,’ Uncle Pike said. ‘Pete and Councillor Dalrymple, what was going on there? And no mention of Chuck, plus hardly any of Raewyn … So queer.’
‘It was like a weird popularity contest,’ Melanie said. ‘With wood.’ She took a swig of lemonade.
Chuck. ‘Dry dogging,’ I said. Mrs Brown put her hand to her throat and Melanie sprayed her drink.
‘Tippy, what?’ Mum said.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Something I saw on a wall.’
‘She’s obsessed,’ Melanie said to Mum. ‘I think it’s time for the sex talk.’
‘Melanie!’ Mrs Brown flapped at her with a tea towel.
My cheeks burned as they all stared at me. I got up and went to the kitchen and waved at Uncle Pike. ‘Nancys STAT,’ I mouthed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It took some time but finally I managed to get both Uncle Pike and Devon away from the kitchen table and out on to the balcony together. They stood an arm’s length apart, on opposite sides of me. Overhead, the sky was packed with rain clouds and it was getting dark. A strong biting wind with spits of rain blew in our faces from the direction of town. Any second now, I expected Melanie or Mrs Brown to join us from the warm glow of the party inside.
‘We’ve got to be quick,’ I said. ‘Chuck, he wasn’t there.’
Uncle Pike’s shoulders relaxed. ‘I thought it was something serious.’
‘Or you had cracked the case,’ Devon said.
‘Come on, let’s go back inside. It’s freezing out here,’ my uncle said. ‘And I don’t like the look of these clouds.’
‘Battleship grey,’ Devon said. ‘For the first time I agree with you.’ He put his arm around my waist. ‘Let’s go, before we get frostbite.’
I watched Mrs Brown get up and head towards us. ‘Listen,’ I said quickly. ‘Chuck wasn’t there on the security-camera videos. Not on any of them.’
‘What?’ Uncle Pike said. ‘You’ve seen them?’
I glanced at Devon, who nodded slowly and said, ‘You’re right.’
‘Hang on. You’ve both seen them?’ my uncle said. ‘When?’
The sliding door opened. ‘I’ve got them, and the note,’ I said hurriedly. ‘Listen, it means there’s a blind spot.’
Mrs Brown stepped onto the balcony w
ith a glass of wine. ‘Ooh, it’s fresh out here.’ She rubbed her arms. ‘Now, when are you two inviting me to your new home?’
Devon stepped back into Uncle Pike and whipped around. ‘Don’t try and “sexy emergency call” me.’
Uncle Pike raised his voice. ‘You backed into me.’
‘Oh dear,’ Mrs Brown said.
‘Just in time to say goodnight,’ Devon said to her. ‘Do you mind giving me a lift back to the Airbnb?’
I had been about to ask if I could stay with Devon tonight, even though I had promised to stay home, when I caught Uncle Pike’s confused and upset look. Damn it.
Mrs Brown shivered. ‘Of course, dear.’
‘See you tomorrow.’ Devon pecked me on the cheek and avoided Uncle Pike, each giving the other a weird nod-wave.
‘A big day for us, Anzac Day,’ I called out after him. ‘April 25, remember? We’ll pick you up early.’ Down below, Riverstone Bridge had its lights on. I shuddered. Tomorrow. We had run out of time to find a bomber and stop a bomb.
‘Come inside,’ Mrs Brown said to us. She turned to Uncle Pike. ‘Wasn’t it such a terrible shock about poor Michael Hornblower’s mother? He’s been so brave all this time on the telly.’
Uncle Pike’s brows scrunched up. ‘What happened?’
Mrs Brown patted his arm. ‘Go inside, dear. I think you should give him a call.’
After the Browns left, I stayed up with Uncle Pike while Mum went to bed. I washed the glasses while he cleared the table.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I meant to tell you about Hornblower’s mum. I overheard him tell Devon last night.’
Uncle Pike grunted but didn’t look up as he brought the dirty plates over to the sink.
I continued, ‘Well, Hornblower was already drunk, and I think that was why he was drinking. Devon just kept him company.’
My uncle scratched his beardy cheek. ‘Mike must be devastated.’ Even though Hornblower was a dick, I did feel sorry for him. I knew what losing a parent and also losing a best friend was like.
As we dried the dishes, I told him about the files we had found on Hornblower’s USB. He kept asking if I was okay after seeing them. I told him I was fine. I was back in mystery mode. Anything to stop the why questions on repeat in my head about Dad, and the guilt I felt when I sometimes hated him. Maybe this is what drove Nancy to investigate, so she didn’t have to think about her mum.
‘Number one—I want to stop the bomber,’ I said. ‘The Nancys have to.’ I put away the last of the glasses.
He nodded and studied his tea towel. ‘How’s Devon doing?’
‘He misses you,’ I said. Devon might not have used those words exactly, but I knew it was true. I couldn’t think of a good way to ask. ‘When are you and Devon getting back together?’
Uncle Pike sighed. ‘If only it were that simple,’ he said. ‘It’s certainly a lot quieter without him.’
I shoulder-nudged him. ‘That’s what he said about you.’
My uncle nearly crushed me in a hug. He pulled back and wiped his eyes with the tea towel. ‘Come on,’ he said and chucked the tea towel at the oven. ‘Let’s see those files.’
I got my tablet and joined him on the couch. I handed it over.
‘You sure you’re okay?’ he said.
‘I’m fine. What about you?’ I snuggled beside him to get a better look at the screen.
‘You know we can talk about your dad any time you like?’
I stiffened and kept my eyes on the blank screen.
My uncle bumped my leg with his. ‘The darkness will always be there, but that’s why you have to keep the lights on.’
I didn’t know what he meant, and dug my thumbnail into my finger. Even the mention of Dad made my eyes water and blood boil. I nodded, hoping he would drop it.
Uncle Pike sighed. ‘You’re the toughest person I know, Tippy. And resilience is important, but don’t let it stop you from being open.’ He hugged me. ‘A broken bone heals back stronger.’
‘Mum says that’s not true,’ I said into his shoulder.
‘What?’ He pulled back. ‘Why?’
‘She’s a nurse?’
He rolled his eyes and we cracked up. It felt good to laugh.
Glad the talk was over, I put in my password and opened the folder. Uncle Pike clicked on the bottom file, the scribbled bomb threat note. I glanced at him. His eyebrows were raised and he blew out a big breath. ‘Sad,’ he said. Uncle Pike’s eyes welled up. He leaned forward and rubbed his bottom lip.
I put my hand on his back. ‘You okay?’
Uncle Pike croaked then shook his head. He buried his face in his arms. It reminded me of his childhood story about the lonely chimp in the rain at Wellington Zoo, who covered itself with a sack while my grandparents had laughed at it.
I wrapped my arms over his massive back and laid my head on his shoulder, my ear and cheek warm against his T-shirt. I rose and fell on his shuddering sobs. My eyes blurred; I’d never seen Uncle Pike cry. I blinked hard to push the tears away. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ I couldn’t lose him like Dad. I clung harder. This time I’ll do better, I promise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The next morning we were up early, but still not early enough for the Anzac Day dawn service. Following a quick breakfast, I went with Uncle Pike in the twin-cab, Fabulon tied on the back. After last night I hadn’t been sure if Uncle Pike would even still want to be a Nancy. We didn’t end up watching the security-cam videos; he had been too upset. But this morning it was like last night’s sadness never happened—he was so like Mum. When I asked him how he was feeling he put on a big smile and said, ‘Chimpanzee!’
We pulled up outside the stinky Airbnb. The Nancys needed to solve the mystery fast. Today was 25 April, bomb threat day. Uncle Pike refused to come inside and waited in the truck instead. I guess this was due to the whole Hornblower thing last time he came around. I didn’t want to jinx it and was thrilled he had agreed to a Nancys meeting. Now, I just needed to get Devon on board, plus pick up all our clues to take to Number Four.
I hopped out and gave Fabulon a quick pat then ran up to the door. I crossed my fingers, really hoping Hornblower wasn’t going to surprise me again.
Inside it was freezing, much colder than outside again. This place is definitely haunted. I shivered and called out for Devon.
‘Nooooooooooo!’ he yelled back from his bedroom.
‘We have to, remember?’ I said, heading for his room. ‘Ticktock. In case it’s not just Mr Tulips blowing up the town.’ I really hoped it was, though. At least then there’d be no ticking bomb and we’d all be safe.
‘Today’s the day. We have to solve this before—’ I peeked my head around the door. Devon was still in bed. ‘Are you naked?’
‘Inapprops, Tippy.’ His eyes were red and his face looked puffy from crying. He looked shell-shocked. Beside him on the stool was his award, on top of the toast I had made him for dinner on the day of his break-up.
My nose wrinkled as I sat on the edge of his bed. ‘Your bedroom smells sad.’ It actually smelled the same yuck as the rest of the place, but I hoped saying it might make him move.
‘I can’t believe this all happened.’ He turned to the pillow beside him. ‘Did it?’ I nodded. He grabbed it and shoved it over his face.
‘We need you,’ I said, doing a quick scan to make sure he really was alone. And hopefully you and Uncle Pike make up.
Devon groaned and wrapped his arms around the pillow.
I wanted to ask if he was seeing Hornblower, but I thought it might complicate things plus slow us down. ‘There might be another explosion,’ I said.
‘I can’t,’ he said, his voice muffled under the pillow.
‘You have to, Sissy,’ I said. ‘Come on, you’re a Nancy. Remember what Uncle Pike said, “Once a Nancy, always a Nancy”.’ I squeezed his toes through the duvet. ‘Please? We can’t do it without you.’
Devon lifted the pillow above his
mouth. ‘She must hate me.’
I left him and looked for the duty-free bag, half expecting Hornblower to jump out at me at any minute like a frisky kitten. The bag was in the kitchen, and inside there was one bottle of whisky left. ‘Uncle Pike’s waiting for you in the car,’ I called out. ‘If he hated you that much, would he be here?’
A grunt came from the bedroom.
‘Come on!’ I said, and went back in. He peered at me from the corner of the pillow. I handed him the whisky. ‘Give this to him and say you’re sorry. The rest you can sort out later.’ Like what I’m doing.
‘Stop being right.’ He sighed.
‘Tick-tock,’ I said again, then shuddered. What if we had run out of time? I smacked his feet through the duvet. ‘We need to go. Now.’
‘I can’t,’ his muffled voice replied.
I ripped the pillow off him, ignoring his screams, and chucked it on the couch. In the bathroom, I stood on my tiptoes and pulled the round mirror off the wall. It was heavier than it looked. I carried it back in to his bedroom.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I hate to do this, but I need you to get up.’ I lifted the mirror up to his face and Devon shrieked. I dumped it on his bed. ‘You’ve got five minutes to fix this.’ I circled my hand around his face.
‘Who are you?’ he yelled at me as I left his room. ‘Monster!’
No one spoke on the drive over to Number Four. I sat in the front with Uncle Pike and watched as he sneaked glances at Devon in the rear-view mirror. I turned up the stereo, The Corrs were singing ‘What Can I Do’.
My uncle tried to turn the volume down, but it didn’t seem to work. His face flushed. ‘Unbelievable,’ he muttered.
Devon wound his window down, letting in cold air. I crossed my arms to keep warm, not wanting to say anything. After a new ‘worst trip ever’, we finally got to the house. Uncle Pike and Devon helped me carry in the bags of clues from Mr Tulips’ house. In my backpack, I had more pens and my tablet.
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