“He’s not going to let me carry him,” Zaiba grumbled. But how were they going to get Roberto out of the maze without his lead? “I suppose we’re going to need some sort of…” Her glance settled on Ali’s leather belt, “makeshift device.”
She smiled sweetly at Ali and held out her hand. He threw Poppy a panicked glance but Poppy had her arms folded. Ali wasn’t going to have any backup on this one.
“My belt? Really? Can’t we just try and get him to follow us?” he begged.
Both Poppy and Zaiba shook their heads. Reluctantly, Ali undid his belt and handed it to his sister who wrapped it around Roberto’s neck loosely, being careful not to hurt him. “There!”
Poppy couldn’t help laughing. “It’s not exactly the designer labels he’s used to,” she said.
Ali looked miserable. He clutched the waistband of his trousers in one fist to stop them from falling down. Jessica had bought the suit online especially for the party – but she had got it one size too big so he could wear it to cousin Anwar’s wedding next summer as well.
He looked down at his trousers. “How do you expect me to walk like this?”
Zaiba placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’re rescuing a little Italian greyhound. You’re a hero.”
“Yes, I’m sure Superman always has his trousers around his ankles when he saves the day,” Ali said, rolling his eyes.
“Come on then. Let’s get you back to your mummy,” Poppy cooed, stroking Roberto’s head. He licked her hand in agreement and Zaiba led the way, retracing their steps through the maze.
“Do you think we’ll get to meet Maysoon properly now?” Poppy said, her eyes sparkling.
“She’s going to be over the moon!” breathed Zaiba. “She’ll probably ask us to be her personal bodyguards for the rest of her stay here. We’d be better than the useless ones Mr Ainsley has stationed outside her room…”
Usually Poppy was the daydreamer, but Zaiba let herself imagine how cool it would be to be part of Maysoon’s entourage. Maybe the three of them would even be given black suits with the walkie-talkie earpieces!
A few metres down the path, she glanced round and had to quickly stifle a giggle. Ali was bringing up the rear, trousers sagging as he tried to keep up with them.
“What was it the mummy tomato said to the baby tomato? Ketchup!” she joked.
“Don’t,” Ali grumbled, hitching up his trousers and trudging after them.
Finally, the entrance to the maze was in sight.
“Look!” Poppy pointed towards the leafy arch. “We made it!”
The large white shape of the hotel reared up and Zaiba felt a sudden movement on the end of the lead. “Roberto, no!” But it was too late. The greyhound had slipped his head out of the belt’s loop and darted off across the gardens.
“Come back!” Poppy cried as the pooch bounded out of sight. “Where’s he gone now?”
Zaiba ran out of the maze. Across the lawn, she spotted a set of tiny footprints in the earth around the flower beds, heading towards stone steps that led down to a doorway with the words Cellar – STAFF ONLY written on a wooden sign. She just caught sight of a tiny grey tail disappearing behind the open door.
“There.” She pointed. “Follow that dog!”
In the entrance of the dingy cellar Zaiba, Poppy and Ali huddled together, peering into the darkness.
“We need to be really quiet,” Zaiba whispered to the others. “If Roberto hears us coming, he might bolt again.”
“First the attic and now a creepy cellar,” Ali said in a low voice. “Why do we keep going where spiders live?”
Zaiba felt sorry for her brother but being a detective meant exploring all sorts of unusual places.
She put her finger to her lips as they stepped inside. The cellar was dimly lit by a single flickering bulb, but she could make out large dusty shelves filled with bottles of expensive wine and round yellow cheeses. A stack of chairs covered in cobwebs balanced haphazardly in the corner, ready to topple over at any moment. This was definitely the dumping ground of the hotel!
“It smells like old P.E. socks down here,” Poppy whispered, screwing up her nose in disgust.
“You’re right,” Zaiba whispered back. “But someone likes the smells down here.”
Poppy followed Zaiba’s gaze and saw Roberto. He was snuffling around the base of some wooden barrels, sending tiny spiders scuttling in every direction. Ali shuddered.
“It’s OK,” Zaiba reassured him. “They’re money spiders – they bring good luck!”
Ali looked slightly less scared. “We need it.”
Zaiba was determined to stay positive. She wouldn’t give up – especially now that the mystery of a missing diamond collar was waiting to be solved. “Follow me and stay low. No sudden movements or Roberto will run.” The little greyhound was so focused on the scent, maybe he wouldn’t notice them approaching.
One step, two steps, three steps… Zaiba trod on the balls of her feet to prevent any noise. Aunt Fouzia had taught her how to move silently across a room and it was paying off. Her plan had worked! Roberto didn’t spot them until Zaiba had squeezed behind the barrels and was bending over him. He looked up happily as she slipped the belt over his head, on a tighter notch this time.
“Those puppy-dog eyes won’t work on me,” Zaiba whispered. “You shouldn’t have run off, you naughty pooch!” But she didn’t have the heart to really tell him off – he was so adorable!
She gave him a little pat on the head then straightened up. Now they could finally get this pup back to Maysoon. Zaiba began to step out from behind the barrels, when—
“What are you doing down here?” came a deep voice from the other side of the shelves.
The three of them froze and Zaiba’s heart began thumping loudly in her chest. They’d been found out! But before she could compose a reply, another voice rang out.
“Sorry, sir. I was just checking the temperature of the champagne for Maysoon’s reception tomorrow.”
Zaiba, Poppy and Ali slunk back behind the barrels. Zaiba peeped through a crack between the shelves and could just make out the hotel manager. Mr Ainsley was talking to the waiter with floppy hair. He’d been serving them at the Mehndi party and helping out in Maysoon’s suite. Mr Ainsley sure worked his staff hard!
Roberto began to whine and pull on the lead, keen to meet these new playmates. Oh no! They’d be in so much trouble if anyone knew they were down here. She bugged her eyes at the others. What are we going to do?
Poppy scrabbled in her pocket and pulled out a samosa, then silently bent down to feed the treat to Roberto. He nibbled at the pastry, licking her fingers. That would keep him quiet for a while. Zaiba shot her friend a grateful look. The sooner we get out of here the better.
“I thought I told you to report to the kitchen and polish the glassware?” Mr Ainsley was saying. “Head up there now, please.”
Zaiba peered further out to see if Mr Ainsley looked as annoyed as he sounded.
Aha! From this angle, Zaiba could just make out the waiter’s name badge, although it was difficult to read as his too-big shirt nearly hid it. Curly gold lettering spelled out the name: Clark. Zaiba shot a look at Poppy who nodded when she saw the badge.
Her hands itched to make a voice recording of her observations but she knew she’d be heard. Wait! A thought popped into her head. Eden Lockett’s golden rule number two: All good detectives make notes. Zaiba pulled out Eden Lockett’s Detective Handbook and began to scribble notes in the back. She wasn’t going to miss a single clue!
“Yes, but, but … the champagne!” Clark stammered, backing towards the crates. Poppy scooped up Roberto and they shrank against the damp wall. She hid Roberto’s nose in the crook of her arm – the last thing she needed was another whine from the greyhound.
Zaiba watched Clark intently, hardly daring to breathe. She glanced over at Ali who had bundled himself into a tight ball with his eyes screwed shut. Zaiba felt a wave of sympathy for her brother before she turned to fo
cus on the scene in front her. The waiter’s eyes darted back and forth across the barrels until he set his lips in a firm line, as though deciding something. Then he threw himself forwards, crashing into the largest wooden barrel, which knocked over a nearby shelf of round cheeses that rolled and bounced across the sloping floor. Ali’s eyes flew open in panic to see what the ruckus was.
“The Stinking Bishop cheese from Pierre’s Delicatessen,” Mr Ainsley gasped.
“I’m sorry,” Clark said. Though Zaiba noticed he didn’t look sorry at all. “I … I tripped over a wine cork.”
“He’s lying,” Poppy whispered, her eyes glittering with outrage.
“I know.” Zaiba held a finger to her lips. They could share their observations later. Zaiba silently pressed “record” on her phone so she could listen back later for any clues.
Mr Ainsley was too flustered to notice Clark’s thin smile. He flung himself across the cellar, chasing after a wheel of cheese as it rolled towards … the shelves where they were hiding!
Zaiba grabbed the others and dragged them further down the aisle. Roberto started to wriggle and wag his tail wildly. He’s going to run! she thought. Luckily Ali saw what was happening and started pulling funny faces at Roberto to distract him. Zaiba reminded herself to give her little bro a pat on the back when they got out of this squeeze. Once again, Zaiba’s heart was beating so fast she was sure it would pop out of her chest. Would they be thrown out of the hotel? That scandal didn’t bear thinking about – their mum and dad would never forgive them for embarrassing their family. They just needed to sneak out with Roberto, undetected.
Mr Ainsley caught the wheel of cheese just as it rolled to a halt before the shelves. He straightened up, lifting the cheese through the air as though it was a giant diamond on a velvet pillow. He went to place it back on the muslin square where all the other cheeses sat. Then he pulled a crisp linen handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped his hands clean. He took a deep breath, turning to Clark as a vein pulsed angrily on his forehead.
Mr Ainsley spoke carefully, clearly trying to stay patient. “I know you’re new here, Mr Stevens, but please. Stop. Messing. Things. Up. Honestly, between you and that useless receptionist, I don’t know how I cope!” His voice went higher and higher until he was almost squeaking and his face turned beetroot-red. As he dropped his head in his hands, Clark’s shoulders shook with repressed laughter.
“And I thought I had a strange sense of humour…” Ali whispered.
Zaiba frowned. For someone who was in the middle of being told off, Clark seemed very pleased with himself. He’d knocked over those cheeses on purpose, but why? Perhaps he just really disliked his boss… Zaiba could hardly blame him. Mr Ainsley had been rude to Liza and now this waiter, and all for what? Because he was super anxious about having a celebrity guest? That didn’t seem fair. Or was Mr Ainsley always like this?
Clark cleared his throat. “Sir? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’m aware that I can be a perfectionist,” Mr Ainsley said with a juddering breath. “We appreciate you stepping in to work these extra events so last minute. But you must be aware that I – I mean the hotel – is under a lot of pressure at the moment.”
“So he’s not a permanent waiter here,” Zaiba whispered to herself.
“That explains why his uniform is more shabby and less chic than the others,” Poppy added.
Zaiba nodded and gestured back to Mr Ainsley. He was instructing Clark to pick up the rest of the wheels of cheese. The waiter scrambled to place them all neatly back on the shelf, using the corner of a napkin to wipe stray bits of dust from the rinds.
“First, the King’s Inn Hotel gets a bed bug infestation, then the Hill Hotel’s pipes burst… Now the White Hall’s ridiculous self-check-in machine has gone haywire. Where do you think all those guests are going to stay now?” Mr Ainsley continued, pacing up and down in the rather cramped space.
“I thought you’d be happy for the extra business?” Clark said coolly.
“Not when it has come from a string of bad luck!” Zaiba saw a shiver run down Mr Ainsley’s spine. “And this is an old hotel, we’re not used to such a high demand, especially with these big events as well. We have lots of restoration work to do, though, which costs money. A lot of money. So at least the extra guests help with that.”
Zaiba began inching closer and closer, still listening to the conversation. She didn’t want to miss out on any potentially important clues!
“With a good restoration job, a celebrity endorsement and some good luck.” Mr Ainsley’s eyes glittered. “Perhaps we’ll finally receive the four gold stars I’ve worked so hard for my entire career.”
Clark nodded in agreement.
“Guess how many hotels in this town have four gold stars, Clark,” Mr Ainsley said.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know…” Clark murmured, replacing a wheel of cheese on a shelf.
“No, go on, guess!”
Clark screwed up his face in thought. “Um, none?”
“That’s right!” Mr Ainsley said. “Not even the Summerway Hotel. Can you believe it? I thought for certain they would…”
Zaiba raised her eyebrows, Mr Ainsley really wanted those gold stars. And the smell of cheese was really making her nose itch. Zaiba pinched her nostrils together and tried not to let out the monstrous sneeze that was brewing.
Mr Ainsley gave Clark a firm slap on the back. “Finish up here and try not to ruin anything else, especially now you understand why everything has to be perfect.” He made his way back up to the ground floor. “Then you can go and polish the glassware.”
Clark waited for Mr Ainsley to disappear up the stairs before sarcastically singing, “Glassware? Oh, whoopie!” He let out a yell of frustration. It was so sudden that it made Zaiba jump. He turned to the crates of expensive champagne and, one by one, began viciously kicking them.
“Let’s see …” KICK! “… how your celebrity …” THUMP! “… likes this!” He gave an extra big kick to one of the boxes then yelped as he stubbed his toe.
Zaiba stared at the crates. If champagne was anything like lemonade, those bottles would be fizzing with bubbles by now.
Clark gave a final few kicks to the crates. “Clear. This. Up. Yourself,” he hissed viciously before storming up the stairs.
Roberto gave out a little whine – Poppy’s samosa had finally been eaten up and Ali’s distraction technique had lost its charm. It was time to head out.
Swiftly and carefully, Zaiba shuffled over to the door back into the garden, Poppy and Ali following close behind. They crept up the stone steps, blinking at the twinkling fairy lights that laced the path.
“That is one angry waiter,” Poppy whistled, passing Roberto to Zaiba so she could dust down her top.
“I can’t help wondering if Mr Ainsley’s attitude has anything to do with the missing dog collar,” Zaiba suggested.
“What do you mean?” asked Ali.
“We know that Liza and the waiter definitely don’t like him. So how many other members of staff hate him too? And we just heard ourselves that Mr Ainsley is desperate for Maysoon’s stay to be a success. So…”
“Oh my goodness!” Poppy breathed. “Sabotage!” She rubbed her hands together. “I love it!”
“We’re not here to love it. We’re here to solve it.” Although Zaiba couldn’t resist grinning – if they got this right, they could save the day! “Remember?”
Poppy’s hands fell to her sides. “Of course. Detecting is a very serious business.” But Zaiba noticed Poppy dig Ali in the ribs and the two of them hide their smiles.
Zaiba looked down at Roberto cuddled up in her arms and felt her own twinge of excitement.
“Come on,” she smiled as she stared up at the hotel windows. “I can’t wait to see the look on Maysoon’s face when she sees her little dog again!”
“And we’ll finally get to meet her,” Poppy reminded her.
The three of them beamed at Roberto who b
arked in agreement.
Yip!
It felt like they were walking on air as Zaiba, Poppy and Ali ascended the stairs to Maysoon’s room. They beamed as they marched up the gilded staircase. Zaiba almost expected a round of applause from Maysoon’s entourage, but she stifled that thought before she got carried away. After all, they still had their biggest investigation to pursue – the case of the missing collar.
Even Roberto could sense he was getting closer to Maysoon as he tugged on the makeshift lead and pointed his nose in the direction of her room. They rounded the staircase and were heading down the corridor when they noticed a solitary figure waiting alone by their hotel room door.
“Uh-oh,” Poppy muttered.
“Mariam, what are you doing here?” Ali asked as they drew level with her.
Zaiba expected Mariam to frown or smirk or say something sarcastic, but instead she draped an arm round Ali’s shoulders and playfully knocked into him. Something wasn’t right. It was like Mariam had had a personality transplant.
“What do you mean?” She smiled. “Why wouldn’t I want to come and see my favourite cousins? And Poppy…”
Ali wriggled out of her grip.
“Sorry, Mariam, we don’t have time to chat,” Zaiba said as politely as possible. This was really testing how professional she could remain as a detective. “We have to go to—”
“Find the celebrity?” Mariam finished for her. Her eyes gleamed with excitement.
Oh no, Zaiba thought. She wants to come with us. She gripped Roberto’s lead tighter. What was she up to?
“I just wondered if … well…” Mariam shifted about uneasily. She almost seemed nervous. “I thought I could come with you!”
Poppy actually laughed out loud.
“Absolutely not!” Ali scowled. Zaiba scooped Roberto up and he whined in her arms.
“You think that after you have been nothing but nasty to Zaiba,” Poppy began. “After you were mean on her birthday, have been trying to get us in trouble all day AND done NOTHING to help us rescue Roberto…” Poppy paused for a breath. “You think after all that, we would let you come with us to meet Maysoon?”
The Missing Diamonds Page 7