by Lavie Tidhar
“Nelle…”
“It’s fine, Mom. Really. It’s just … a case I’ve been working.”
“You’re not a private detective, Nelle! No one is! Only people in cheap paperbacks, or in the movies!”
She sounded so worried, but it still hurt when she said it.
She could see my reaction, and her face softened. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But this isn’t a game, this is serious. Someone broke into our house! I’m going to call the police.”
“I understand.” I gave her another hug quickly, then took the teddy without saying anything else. I took him to my room and put him on the bed next to Del Bear. She sulked for a moment but didn’t say anything.
“Look after Teddy for me,” I said.
I went back to the living room. My mom had tidied up the broken pot and replanted the cactus. They were hardy things, cacti. Like private detectives, they took any amount of beatings and still went on. My mom had changed into her house clothes and now sat on the sofa with the television on. She looked tired, but she smiled when she saw me.
I was going to tell her about my investigation, and Waffles, and the playground, and marbles and candy and missing teddy bears and Sweetcakes Ratchet and the chocolate factory, and perhaps I started telling her, and my mom said, “Slow down, Nelle, I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” when there was a knock on the door.
“It must be the cops,” my mom said. She looked relieved. I followed her to the door and she opened it.
There were two of them, a man and a woman. The man was thickset and balding on top, unshaved, with a shirt one size too small for him. He wore a bad suit and a bad haircut and what looked like a permanent scowl.
The woman was his opposite. She wore a crisp linen suit and an expensively-cut bob and dark mirror shades despite the hour. She was tall and thin and she smiled the way a shark does when it sees you swimming towards it like a happy meal.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” my mom said. “I only just called about the break-in.”
The two of them exchanged glances.
“What break-in?” the man said.
“Was anything stolen?” the woman said.
“No, no, I don’t think so,” my mother said.
The woman just shrugged. “Then this isn’t our problem,” she said, and my mom bristled.
“Then who are you?” she said. “And what do you want?”
“I’m Detective Tidbeck,” the woman said. “Ma’am. And this is Webber. May we come in?”
Tidbeck made to follow through but my mom didn’t budge. “What is it about?” she said.
Webber came to life, as though he were a mechanical doll switched on, with groaning limbs, at the press of a button. His voice was the sound of a car engine stalling.
“Missing Persons,” he said. “We’re looking for one – ” he made a pretence of studying a small notebook he brought out of the breast pocket of his suit – “Edward, AKA Eddie, de Menthe. Age twelve and a half. He’s gone missing.”
“He lives with his grandmother on Falcon Drive, but she hasn’t seen him in three days,” Tidbeck said. “She’s very concerned.”
There was as much warmth in her voice as a winter storm. She made me think of snow flurries and being out alone without a coat.
“Eddie?” my mother said. “What happened to Eddie?”
“We don’t know, ma’am.”
“That poor boy,” she said. “Did you hear that, Nelle? You remember Eddie, don’t you? You used to play together when you were little.”
“I don’t remember,” I mumbled. My voice was very small. Both detectives turned their heads as one and registered me.
“You’re –” again, Webber consulted the notebook – “Nelle?”
“Yes.”
“We were told the de Menthe boy came to see you –” another glance at the notebook – “two days ago? Around noon?”
“Who told you that?”
They ignored the question. Tidbeck pushed up her mirrored sunglasses. Her eyes were cold blue marbles underneath. “Did he, Nelle?”
My mom turned to look at me, concern written on her face. “Did he, Nelle?” she said quietly.
“Yes,” I said. “It was just…”
“What did he want?”
“It was nothing,” I said. “Really.”
“I heard you like to play detective,” Tidbeck said unexpectedly. Webber laughed. It was the sound of rocks avalanching. His whole belly shook.
Tidbeck smiled, with what apparently passed for human warmth. It was like watching a store mannequin stretching its mouth.
“You do?” she said. “That’s so sweet!”
“Do you have a licence?” Webber said. His belly continued to shake. I stood there, red-faced and angry.
“Please do not make fun of my daughter,” my mom said, and I could have hugged her at that moment. She stared stony-faced at the detectives.
“Nelle,” she said, “did Eddie come to see you?”
“Yes,” I said. There was no room to avoid the question, not when she was like this.
“What did he want?”
“He was just looking for something,” I said. “Something he lost.”
It didn’t feel like it was a big deal to tell them the truth, and yet there was something about the detectives I really didn’t like, and it made me hesitate.
Tidbeck and Webber dropped their smiles. They dropped them as though they’d never worn them, as though they had been masks all along.
I could see hunger in their eyes and it made me afraid.
“What was it, Nelle?” Detective Tidbeck said. “What was Eddie de Menthe looking for?”
“Answer them, Nelle,” my mom said. All this time her eyes were on Tidbeck and Webber.
“His teddy bear,” I said. I saw no reason not to tell them.
“His teddy bear?” Detective Webber said.
“His teddy bear,” Detective Tidbeck said.
My mom looked surprised. She began to smile, then stopped when she saw how serious the two detectives were. They were both staring at me like I was a bar of slowly-melting chocolate.
“And did you find it, Nelle?”
“Did he tell you where it was, Nelle?”
“What is this really about?” my mother demanded. “Why are you so interested in a teddy bear? And why are you questioning my daughter?”
“This is very important,” Detective Webber said. “What did he tell you, Nelle?”
“Nothing,” I said. “He told me nothing. Is he really missing? What happened to him?”
Webber and Tidbeck exchanged glances. Tidbeck slipped the mirrored shades back over her eyes. I could see myself reflected in them like a fly.
“That is what we are trying to establish … Miss Faulkner. Here. My card,” Tidbeck said. She passed it to me. It had her name on it, and a telephone number. “You call me if you hear anything. We’re all very concerned about poor Eddie.”
“Think of his grandmother,” Webber said. “How she worries.”
“Day or night,” Tidbeck said. “You’ll let us know?”
“Sure,” I said. I slipped her card into my pocket. “But I don’t know where he is.”
“You take care now,” Webber said. “Ma’am. Little girl.”
“It’s Nelle,” I said. “My name is Nelle.”
His eyes narrowed, just a little. “I’ll be sure to remember that,” he said. “Tidbeck?”
“Let’s go,” she said. She nodded to us and executed a turn and they both walked off without a backwards glance. I stared after them.
They got into their black car and drove away.
11
In the morning I woke abruptly. One moment I was deeply asleep. The next I was wide awake. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. Morning light played on the walls. I couldn’t help thinking about the case, and I wondered what I’d let myself in for. I realized that I’d seen the detectives’ car twice before, and it meant that either they were following me, or they we
re somehow wrapped up in Eddie and Waffles’s chocolate business. Why else did they keep showing up?
And what exactly did it all mean?
It felt safe in the bed. Safe, and warm. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to face the outside world. Beyond my bedroom the world wasn’t nice and it wasn’t comfortable, and if I left my room I didn’t know what I would end up finding.
Eddie was in trouble, I knew that. And there was no one to help him.
But he’d come to me for help.
I had to help him.
And that meant I had to find him.
I had only one clue. The missing teddy bear.
The same missing teddy bear that was currently perched at the end of my bed.
After the two detectives left the night before, I’d had a hard time explaining to my mom what was going on, because I wasn’t totally sure myself. Finally I went to my room and then I picked up the worn-out old teddy and looked at it closely.
I wondered if maybe there would be a clue inside it, but when I pressed its tummy and felt round its head, I couldn’t feel anything other than soft squishy stuffing. I didn’t want to cut it open. It looked like it had been through enough already.
“Farnsworth”, the faded old label had once read.
Why Farnsworth? How was he tied into this?
It wasn’t a dead end, it was something, but I didn’t yet know what it was.
I stared at the ceiling. I smelled French toast cooking. It was comfortable and warm and safe in bed: but you can’t stay in bed for ever.
So I got up and I got dressed and I brushed my teeth and I went downstairs and had breakfast with my mom. I drank half a cup of milk. Then I kissed her goodbye and did what every good detective should when they don’t have any leads: I went to the library.
It was another hot day, hot enough to melt chocolate, if only you could buy any. On my way I passed the playground on Malloy Road. Despite the relatively early hour the sentries were already standing guard on the door in the fence, and I saw a trickle of kids heading that way with their hard-earned pocket money.
Across the road under the shade of the trees I saw a now-familiar black car. I went the long way around so they wouldn’t see me, but I knew Tidbeck and Webber were there. They must have been watching the playground, hoping Eddie would turn up. Who were they, really? Why were they looking for Eddie, and why were they asking questions about the teddy bear? Were they even really from the police?
Further on my way, on Mandarin Road, was a call box. I went inside and phoned the police line.
“Can I speak to Detective Tidbeck at Missing Persons?” I said.
“Hold on, please.” I was put on hold and a moment later the phone rang again and a woman’s voice answered, “Detective Bureau.”
“Oh, hello,” I said. “I was looking for Detective Tidbeck at Missing Persons.”
“Tidbeck? You must have made a mistake, Tidbeck’s with the Bureau of Prohibition, they report directly to the mayor’s office.”
“She’s with Prohibition?” I said.
The voice sighed. “Yeah, the Banned Candy Bureau,” she said, in what definitely sounded like a sort of disapproving tone.
“And her partner? Webber?”
The voice on the other end of the line was still. “Who is this?” she said.
“I’d rather not say.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble, kid?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
“I don’t mean to tell you your business,” the voice said, “but it would probably be better if you stayed away from those two.”
“That might be too late.”
“My name’s Levene,” the voice said. “Detective Suzie Levene. If you need to talk, call me. Or tell me where you are, and I’ll—”
“I have to go,” I said. “Thank you.” And I hung up. I stared at the receiver. After a moment the phone rang and made me jump. I hesitated, then picked it up.
“Hello?”
“This is Levene. Listen, kid, I want to help—”
I hung up again. This time I didn’t stick around. I left the phone booth and heard the phone ring again, the sound growing fainter as I walked at a quick pace up the road. I’d been right not to trust Tidbeck and Webber. But how did I know Detective Levene was any better? I couldn’t trust anyone – anyone grown-up. I was on my own…
And Tidbeck and Webber were obviously mixed up in all of this – I thought suddenly of the two shadows Cody had described to me, the ones he saw break into my office. It was a thought that I’d had at the back of my mind ever since last night, and a thought I’d tried hard to push away – only it kept coming back.
Grown-ups, Cody had said. And I thought of Tidbeck and Webber sneaking into the backyard and smashing everything in my office, in total silence, looking for – what?
The teddy.
I felt suddenly very cold, despite the warmth of the day.
12
The library was a pleasant single-storey building with a white stone facade and ivy growing over the walls. I climbed the short steps and went in.
It was a clean well-lighted place and I went past the children’s books shelves and mysteries to the back, where the research centre was. It was darker and quieter there, mostly deserted but for a couple of older people placidly reading the morning papers.
I went up to the librarian and she helped me find what I needed.
It is a useful rule of the professional detective: when in doubt, ask the librarian.
I began looking for the Farnsworths in the Local Interest section, where the librarian had directed me. Among books on home-grown movie stars, unsolved murders, haunted mansions, dairy production, local geography and pirates, there was a section set aside for the chocolate factory and for the Farnsworths themselves. I took an armful of books and went to a seat by the window, with my back to the wall, and began to read.
There was surprisingly little information I could find. The Farnsworths had lived in the city for three generations, beginning with old General Farnsworth who, having retired from the military, first established the Farnsworth Candy Company, Inc. The business grew modestly at first. The general’s son expanded the business but died in an unfortunate chocolate-related accident just five short years after the birth of his own boy.
The book had a photograph from the funeral. All the dignitaries of the day were there: the mayor, two film stars and an Oscar-nominated director, the ambassadors of Brazil, Peru and the Ivory Coast, an exiled princess of Romania with a black veil over her face, a former vice president, the owner of the local baseball team, the conductor of the national philharmonic orchestra, two generals, three major industrialists, a world-renowned playwright, and a minor member of the British royal family in a very expensive-looking coat and hat.
The heads of the other chocolate companies were also there – Madame Sosotris, The Soufflé Brothers, Benny Bonbon, Edmonton St Creme-Egge and Borscht.
They posed together for the camera, with the hard looks of people who didn’t really want to be there. It was the first time I had seen them, and I studied the old photograph with interest.
Madame Sosotris was a tall, thin woman with a big wide hat, and big yellow teeth like a horse’s. The Soufflés were short and fat: one was bald and one had a thick head of black hair like liquorice. Borscht just scowled – he looked like a grumpy maths teacher – and Benny Bonbon looked bored. Edmonton St Creme-Egge was dressed in a black suit with a top hat and white gloves over long fingers.
The boy – the present Farnsworth – stood with his back to the camera. Now he would be a grown man, but he was only a boy then. He wore a sombre dark suit tailor-made to his smaller size. He was holding his mother’s hand. This was the widow Farnsworth who had taken over the family business and with an iron fist expanded it into a worldwide empire.
But the boy. His fine hair was slicked back against his scalp. His hand gripped his mother’s tightly as the coffin was lowered. It was a black and
white picture and the sky was grey, the ground dusty, the assembled dignitaries frozen for ever in the photo. They towered over him.
I felt so sad for him then. I knew how he’d felt.
He was so small, and so alone.
But not entirely. I looked closer and, of course, it was there. With one hand he was holding on to his mother. With the other he held on to a friend. He hadn’t yet lost his eye, and a part of his ear, and his coat of fur was shiny and new, but I knew him all the same: it was Teddy.
I stared at the young boy and his teddy bear, and then I turned the page quickly. How had Eddie come to own Farnsworth’s old teddy, and why were people looking for it now, all these years later? I wanted – needed – to know!
The rest of the book was irritatingly vague. The young Farnsworth grew up. He went to college. He enlisted in the air force, was wounded in battle, received a commendation and was honourably discharged. He took over the Farnsworth Candy Company after his mother’s death, and seemed to have taken to the job with ferocious enthusiasm. The company’s influence grew even further, and Farnsworth chocolate bars and Farnsworth sweets and Farnsworth candy were sold everywhere from Chicago to Timbuktu. The factory became the single largest employer in the city.
And that, pretty much, was that.
I decided to look through the newspaper archives next. The librarian helped me with the microfilm machine and I flicked through the old scanned pages.
Though the factory and the Farnsworth Candy Company were often mentioned, I could find no more photos of Farnsworth himself. He seemed to have gone to a great deal of effort to ensure no photos of him were ever taken.
Then, when Thornton became mayor and the factory was shut down, Farnsworth just disappeared. No one knew where he went, what he did.
He had lost the one thing that was most important to him, his life’s work: the chocolate factory.
It was so unfair!
But it did not get me any closer to finding out where Eddie de Menthe was, or why Tidbeck and Webber were after him, or why the teddy bear I’d been hired to find was now hiding in my bedroom.
I rubbed my eyes. They were sore and I needed air.