The Eye of the Serpent
Page 1
First published in Great Britain in 2009
by Piccadilly Press Ltd,
5 Castle Road, London NW1 8PR
www.piccadillypress.co.uk
Text copyright © Simon Cheshire, 2009
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
The right of Simon Cheshire to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978 1 84812 008 2 (paperback)
eISBN: 978 1 84812 317 5
3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4
Printed in the UK by CPI Bookmarque, Croydon CR0 4TD
Typeset by Carolyn Griffiths, Cambridge
Cover design and illustration by Patrick Knowles
The Saxby Smart – Private Detective series:
The Curse of the Ancient Mask
The Fangs of the Dragon
The Pirate’s Blood
The Hangman’s Lair
The Eye of the Serpent
Five Seconds to Doomsday
www.saxbysmart.co.uk
CONTENTS
CASE FILE THIRTEEN THE EYE OF THE SERPENT
INTRODUCTION: IMPORTANT FACTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CASE FILE FOURTEEN THE STRANGER IN THE MIRROR
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CASE FILE FIFTEEN THE GHOST AT THE WINDOW
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
EPILOGUE
CASE FILE THIRTEEN
THE EYE OF THE SERPENT
INTRODUCTION:
IMPORTANT FACTS
My name is Saxby Smart and I’m a private detective. I go to St Egbert’s School, my office is in the garden shed, and this is the fifth book of my case files. Unlike some detectives, I don’t have a sidekick, so that part I’m leaving up to you – pay attention, I’ll ask questions.
CHAPTER
ONE
THERE ARE SOME THINGS I’M quite good at. Such as, 1) being a brilliant schoolboy detective, and 2) keeping clear, detailed notes on my various detective-type investigations.
There are other things I’m not good at. Such as . . . well, pretty much everything else, really. I’m OK at schoolwork (except maths, eurgh, splutter, help), but the minute I try to do anything practical I go to pieces. I can’t even open a tin of beans without covering half the kitchen with that orangey bean-juice.
So why did I think I could reorganise the garden shed, to make more space for my Crime HQ? Why? Whyyyyy? Because I never admit to myself that I can’t do these things until it’s too late, that’s why.
You know how, sometimes, you’ll be clearing out a drawer or a cupboard and you’ll think to yourself: How did all of this fit inside of that? I was having exactly the same problem with the garden shed. The previous weekend I’d emptied the entire shed out on to the lawn and tried to put it all back in the most space-saving way possible. And I’d ended up more cramped up in there than ever before.
Now Saturday had come around again and I was having another go. On to one side of the lawn I dragged all my essential detective gear: my desk, my filing cabinet full of case notes and my battered old leather Thinking Chair. On to the other side of the lawn, I dragged all the piles of stuff I’m forced to share the shed with: the lawnmower, the garden hose, assorted gardening-type kit, half-empty paint pots, boxes of DIY equipment and tons of other heavy, grubby old tat.
Right, I thought to myself, this is just a simple problem of organisation. Like those video games where you have to slot shapes in on top of each other.
Two hours later I’d packed everything back into the shed. Including myself. I sat in my Thinking Chair and I looked up at the enormous pile I’d jammed in on the other side of my desk and I thought to myself: That’s all going to fall over in a minute and I’m going to be buried under the lawnmower.
Oooohhh, whyyyyyy did I ever start this?
I hardly dared move. I’d got my desk sorted out, and my case files, and my chair. But everything else was now teetering overhead in a kind of looming wall. One good sneeze and the lot would come down.
I let out a long, weary sigh. ‘I’m going to have to start all over again, aren’t I?’ I muttered to myself.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the shed door. The looming wall of stuff wobbled. That might have been caused by the knocking or it might have been caused by the way I nearly jumped out of my skin.
‘Come in,’ I called. ‘Carefully.’
James Russell, my old friend from school, clomped into the shed. You might remember him if you’ve read my earlier case file, The Pirate’s Blood. Quiet, serious guy, pointy face, dollop of curly hair.
‘H’lo Saxby,’ he said. ‘Have you been redecorating in here?’
‘Er, something like that,’ I said, keeping a nervous eye on the wobbling stack beside me.
‘I need your help,’ said James.
He sat in my Thinking Chair while I hopped up on to the desk. I sat back, gently leaning against the tottering boxes to try to keep them stable.
‘What’s the problem?’ I asked.
James gave a tiny little, throat-clearing ‘ahem’, fist poised at his lips. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘last time I came to see you, I had a tale of blood-chilling horror to relate.’
‘Mm-hmm,’ I agreed, nodding.
‘This time,’ he said, his voice shuddering slightly, ‘I have a tale of nerve-tingling fear!’
‘Excellent,’ I said, rubbing my hands together in glee. The stuff behind me wobbled again. I decided to stay still.
‘Do you believe in bad luck, Saxby? Do you believe that an object can carry bad luck around with it? Do you believe that something can be evil and bring misfortune to all who touch it?’
‘No,’ I said.
James’s eyes went a little bit boggly. ‘You might change your mind when you hear what’s happened.’
I leaned forward, frowning. The stack behind me creaked. ‘What’s happened?’ I said quietly.
‘Last night,’ said James, even more quietly, ‘I saw the Eye of the Serpent vanish before my very eyes!’
‘The what of the what?’ I asked.
‘The Eye of the Serpent,’ said James, in a trembly voice. ‘I was watching it and it literally vanished into thin air!’
I was confused. ‘Was this in a zoo, or something?’
‘No, the new art gallery in Gladstone Road.’
I was more confused. ‘What was a snake doing in the art gallery? Admiring the paintings?’
‘Huh? Nooooo, the Eye of the Serpent is a statuette. It was a piece of artwork on display.’
‘Oooooooh, riiiight,’ I said, rolling my eyes a little. ‘Start again. Tell me exactly what happened, from the beginning.’
‘OK,’ said James, taking a deep breath. ‘As you know, my dad runs the local museum. He’s friends with this guy who’s just set up a new art gallery in Gladstone Road. It’s in that building that used to be the library before the library moved. You know?’
‘Er, yes, I think so,’ I said. ‘All stone pillars and high ceilings?’
‘That’s the place. Anyway, my dad knows this guy beca
use they both have the same boss at the Department of Dusty Old Relics or whatever it’s called. The gallery has taken ages to set up, and it opened for the first time last night. There was a formal party there, invited guests only. You know the sort of thing: posh outfits, polite chitchat, snooty attitudes.’
‘Sounds like a non-stop festival of laughs,’ I said with the heaviest sarcasm I could manage.
‘My dad made me help his friend out,’ said James, pulling a grumpy face. ‘I was gliding around all night with trays of celery nibbles. I had to wear a white shirt, bow tie, the lot.’
‘You in a bow tie? Ha-haaaa!’ I snorted.
‘Pack it in,’ said James. ‘This gallery has got lots of things in it – paintings, pottery and so on – but it’s opening with a special exhibition of Art Deco pieces.’
‘What’s Art Dekker?’
‘Dec-o,’ said James. ‘Dunno, really, I’m not into that sort of thing. It’s a kind of arty-style, full of women in floaty dresses who appear to be standing in a strong wind. There are lots of glass ornaments in this exhibition and framed pictures of people from eighty-odd years ago looking a bit miserable. There’s even clothes and lamp stands and everyday objects.’
‘And you say this Eye of the Serpent is a small statue?’ I said.
‘A statuette, yes,’ said James. ‘It’s about thirty centimetres high, and jet black. It looks like a rearing cobra, sideways-on, and there’s a ruby where its eye should be. It’s an evil-looking thing – it gives me the creeps.’
‘Is it valuable?’ I said.
‘Are you kidding? I found out last night it’s worth two million pounds!’
I almost fell off the desk. The mountain of boxes behind me creaked alarmingly again. ‘Wow!’ I mouthed. ‘A creepy little thing like that?’
James shuffled forward on the Thinking Chair. His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘The gallery manager’s assistant was telling me all about it. It’s so valuable because it’s one of the few surviving pieces by Enid Bottomby, almost the greatest artist of the twentieth century.’
‘Why “almost”?’
‘Because,’ whispered James, ‘it’s said that her life was cursed, full of tragic happenings and other doom-type events. Arty people who know about these things say that she should be one of the most famous names in modern art but her work has mostly been lost and she’s been mostly forgotten. There are only a dozen known Bottombys left in the world.’
‘And this Eye of the Serpent is one of them,’ I said.
‘Right,’ said James. ‘Each of these pieces is said to bring bad luck to whoever possesses it. If the rest of her work is as scary as that statuette, I can well believe it!’
‘So, naturally, you were watching it like a hawk last night,’ I said. ‘I mean, knowing you, you were expecting it to start emitting an eerie glow or something.’
‘Exactly!’ said James. ‘You can’t be too careful when there’re supernatural forces about!’
I groaned to myself. ‘James, I can promise you, if that statuette has gone missing then it’s a simple case of theft, and —’
James suddenly bristled like a startled hedgehog. ‘You weren’t there!’ he cried indignantly. ‘I’m telling you, it simply vanished! Of course, there was uproar when I pointed out that it had gone. I jumped up and I shouted, ‘Look! Everyone! The Bottomby’s gone!’ Then the gallery manager started yelling about thieves. All the guests started yelling about thieves. An art critic from one of the newspapers fainted with shock.’
Then his eyes went so boggly I was worried for a moment that they might plop out on to the floor. ‘Hey, maybe that’s why so much of Enid Bottomby’s artwork has been lost over the years? Maybe more of it vanished into thin air?’
I groaned to myself again. ‘For goodness’ sake, things don’t just disappear like that. There has to be a logical explanation for what happened. And the chances are the logical explanation involves a thief, like all those people were yelling about.’
‘But nobody could just have taken it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it was behind a brand new, high-power laser beam security net, that’s why,’ said James, very seriously. ‘I promise you, no thief came anywhere near that statuette. I was watching it. It vanished into thin air before my eyes! The curse of Enid Bottomby has struck again!’
CHAPTER
TWO
I HMMM-ED AND AHHH-ED FOR A BIT.
‘OK,’ I said at last, ‘let’s take this one step at a time. Step one: tell me exactly where this Eye of the Serpent was when it, er . . . vanished into thin air before your eyes.’
James stared at the shed floor and chewed at his lower lip as he visualised the scene. ‘As you know, the gallery is in an old building. The room which houses the Art Deco exhibition is very large, and shaped like a rectangle. The ceiling is high and sort of curved at the top. There are tall windows at one end, and all around the walls there’s a row of alcoves.’
‘What, you mean, like recesses? Little areas that are kind of sunk into the wall?’
‘Exactly, yes,’ said James. ‘They’re not very big, about a metre and a half off the floor. They’ve been there since the place was built, apparently. There are about twenty of them in all. They’re ideal for displaying small pieces of art – statuettes, china figures, that sort of thing. The Eye of the Serpent was placed in one of these alcoves, in the middle of the wall opposite the windows.’
‘Was it the only thing on display in that particular alcove?’ I asked.
‘Oh, yes, there’s really only room for one thing in each. There are a series of suspended lights in the room, and one of them was pointing directly at that alcove. The Eye of the Serpent was in a clear pool of light. You could see it from most parts of the room.’
‘Tell me more about this brand new, high-power laser beam security net thingummy,’ I said.
‘It’s really clever. There are different devices used for different parts of different displays, but they all work by projecting a criss-cross of invisible beams. Around the walls of the Art Deco room, there are strips in the floor, which project a tight net of lasers right across each wall from one side to the other. The net is about two centimetres away from the actual wall itself.’
‘So people can go right up to the things on display but if they try to actually touch them then a whopping great whah-whah-whah starts up.’
‘That’s right,’ said James. ‘It’s really cool, you can’t see the beams or anything. This system cost a fortune to install.’
‘Pity it’s no bloomin’ good then,’ I grumbled.
‘Huh?’
‘Well, the system’s not exactly good value for money, is it, if the gallery’s pride and joy gets nicked on opening night.’
James pulled an ah-yes-that’s-awkward face. ‘Yeah, I see what you mean. But it proves my point, doesn’t it? No thief took that statuette. They couldn’t. If anything had broken those beams, the alarm would have sounded.’
‘The alarm system was actually on, was it?’
‘I know it was,’ said James. ‘When I was preparing trays of celery nibbles in the gallery’s office I saw the manager’s assistant switch the whole system on. Little flashing red lights, the works. All systems go.’
I frowned, rubbing my chin in a thoughtful and detectivey way. I had to admit, this case was starting to sound more and more puzzling.
‘Could someone have reached the Eye of the Serpent some other way?’ I wondered.
‘Not possible,’ said James, shaking his head. ‘The entire wall was covered by the laser net. And nobody could have broken through the wall from the back. For one thing, everyone would have seen the hole! The alcove was untouched. The statuette simply disappeared from it.’
I frowned some more. ‘And where precisely did you see the, er . . . disappearance from?’
‘I was just having a rest from gliding around with trays of celery nibbles. There are these sort of padded benches dotted around the room and I was sitting
on one close to the windows, on the opposite side of the room to the statuette.’
‘But you could see the alcove clearly?’
‘Yes. Like I said, I was keeping a sharp watch on the Eye of the Serpent, after what I’d heard about it.’
I frowned hard enough to make my face look as crumpled as the school uniform scattered across my bedroom floor. ‘Now think carefully. You actually saw it vanish, did you?’
James shrugged. ‘Weeeeell, obviously I wasn’t sitting there literally not taking my eyes off it. I was looking around the room a bit too. I remember someone asked me for another celery nibble. And the manager’s assistant slipped over on a puddle of wine someone had spilled and went down with an almighty crash. Which made me laugh. And of course I had to blink now and again! But I can’t have taken my eyes off that alcove for more than a couple of seconds at a time. One second it was there and two or three seconds later, it wasn’t. I tell you, it vanished.’
‘And then you jumped up and yelled?’
‘Yes.’
‘And then there was general confusion?’
‘Yes.’
There was a chilly sensation starting to creep along my spine. And it had nothing to do with the teetering pile of shed-debris that was still looming up behind me. If what James had told me was accurate – and I had no reason to doubt him – then here was a daring robbery, which had been carried out in the blink of an eye! Not only that, but a daring robbery which had somehow fooled a brand new, high-power laser beam security net thingummy! And not only that, but a daring robbery which had been carried out right in front of a room full of people!
‘Well,’ I said, trying to sound confident, ‘whatever happened to the Eye of the Serpent, I can promise you that there were no supernatural forces involved. Not one tiny, weeny, microscopic little supernatural force of any kind. How many guests attended last night?’
‘Ah, I know that exactly,’ said James. ‘Seventy-seven. At the start I had to collect up the invitations.’
‘And they all had invitations? There was nobody who brought a couple of extra, uninvited friends with them? No hangers-on?’