by A. J. Low
Wendy laughed. “Dad, Cher Lock looks like a tau sar pneah!”
I could not defend myself. I chewed furiously until I could swallow safely without choking, and I finally asked, “Did anyone see which direction the man turned?”
“He made a left somewhere up ahead,” Wendy said. “But I’m not sure how far up ahead.”
We walked slowly, looking at every alley and passageway on our left, but didn’t see him again. We made it all the way until the pasar malam ended at a major road.
“I think we lost him, Sam,” Dad said.
Foiled by my unquenchable desire for delicious food!
“I’m sorry, guys,” I said. “This was totally my fault. I shouldn’t have stopped for tau sar pneah, as delicious as it was.”
“Oh, well,” Eliza said. “We tried to find that dumb robot, but now we can get back to our holiday. The beach looked really nice from our room.”
“We can’t just give up!” Jimmy shouted. “It’s my mom’s robot!”
“We’re not going to give up, Jimmy,” Wendy said, giving Eliza a dirty look. “We’ll just have to think of something else.”
“Maybe we could go back to Uncle Ben and ask him if he knows the guy?” Nazhar said. “Maybe this isn’t the first time he’s tried to sell something?”
“Good thinking, Nazhar,” I said. I put my arm around Jimmy. “I’m really sorry, Jimmy, but we’re definitely not going to give up. And I promise not to let my stomach get in the way anymore.”
“Unless it’s a very narrow passageway, in which case no choice,” Wendy said, laughing.
I ignored her and we started walking back to the minivan.
“Where-are-you-going?” a disembodied voice asked. We all gasped and looked around.
“Watson, is that you?” Dad asked.
“Sorry. I-am-still-camouflaged.” Watson shimmered back into view, in an alleyway off to our right. “The-man-you-were-following-went-this-way,” Watson said, pointing into the alley behind him.
“You were following him this whole time?” I asked.
“Yes. I-correctly-assumed-your-gastro-intestinal-proclivities-would-hamper-your-trailing-skills,” he replied.
“I’m not even going to try to pronounce those words,” Jimmy said.
“He said he knew Sherlock’s love of food would distract him from following the tattooed man,” Eliza said.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked, ignoring everything else.
“Yes-but-not-for-much-longer,” Watson said. “If-we-are-done-wasting-time-perhaps-we-could-catch-up.”
“You’re the one making jokes at my expense,” I said.
“That-tau-sar-pneah-had-red-bean-paste-inside-correct?” Watson asked.
“Are you seriously about to make a fart joke?”
“Not-any-more,” he said. “You-have-ruined-my-punch-line.”
“You are the worst robot ever,” I said.
We followed Watson down the alley. It was surrounded on both sides by small warehouses with high walls and no windows. I looked behind me to make sure everyone was following. Watson made a left, and then a right and then another right.
And then maybe another left.
I had actually lost count as to how many turns we had made, but we probably weren’t lost. Probably.
“I think I should call Sergeant Huda,” Dad said. “Do you still have her card, Sam?”
I handed Dad her card and he dialed her number.
“Hello, Sergeant Huda?” Dad asked. “This is Sherlock’s dad. Yes, the boy detective from Singapore. We’re currently following a man who tried to sell the stolen robot to another toy museum in George Town.”
Dad listened intently for a few seconds while we continued to follow Watson.
“Well, no. I didn’t witness anything myself. I was in the minivan...Uh, I was...guarding it? Maybe you should talk to Sherlock.”
Dad handed me the phone.
“Hello, Sergeant Huda,” I said. “We are in pursuit of a suspect who tried to sell the robot to Uncle Ben at Ben’s Vintage Toy Museum.”
“Did you witness this attempted sale?” Sergeant Huda asked.
“No, ma’am, but Uncle Ben relayed the information to us when we asked him if he’d seen the robot. He’s your primary witness.”
“Where are you right now?”
“That.... That is a very good question.” Okay, maybe we were a little lost. “I haven’t seen a street sign in some time. We’re in a warehouse district of some kind near a pasar malam.”
“There are pasar malams all over George Town, Sherlock,” Sergeant Huda said. “Are there any other details, perhaps a bit more concrete?”
“We are somewhere west of Lebuh Pantai and north of Little India,” I said. “Does that help?
“It does. Let me speak to your father again.” I handed the phone back to Dad. Watson had made a few more turns, and at this point we were completely lost. All the warehouse walls looked very similar to me, and I was afraid the tattooed man knew we were following him and was luring us into a trap.
“Yes, I understand,” Dad said. “You can be sure the children’s safety is my foremost concern.” He hung up and addressed us. “Okay guys, Sergeant Huda says we can follow the man as long as we don’t go into any private property. And if I feel this is getting too dangerous, we’re leaving immediately and going somewhere with a lot of people.”
We all nodded.
“Everybody-should-be-very-quiet-now,” Watson whispered. He stopped as the alley widened into a small courtyard. Beyond the courtyard was the entrance to a small warehouse. There were two men standing around talking—along with the tattooed man!
“Oh my gosh!” Wendy said, trying hard not to raise her voice. “Look!”
I looked where she was pointing and saw what looked like bent and curved steel wire lying on the ground.
“It’s wire,” Nazhar said. “Why’s that important?”
“Because it’s not just any wire,” Wendy said. “It’s the stolen wire art!”
We had stumbled onto the secret lair of the wire art thieves!
“Watson, you know what to do!” I said, pointing at the secret lair.
The group of three men had walked into the warehouse and shut the door. I could see that the warehouse windows were protected by sturdy iron grilles but you could still look inside if you got up close enough.
“I-am-to-record-their-evil-deeds-from-a-safe-distance-away. Like-from-behind-that-potted-plant-over-there,” Watson replied, pointing to a large plant in a cracked pot at the corner of the courtyard.
I glared at my robot.
“No, you are to use your camouflage powers and make yourself invisible and record their evil deeds from inside the lair!” I said.
“My-idea-was-better,” Watson said, but he shimmered and vanished right before our eyes. A disembodied voice said, “I-would-like-my-displeasure-to-go-on-record.”
As soon as I was sure that Watson had embarked on his mission and wasn’t just standing around next to us (which involved madly waving my hands about), I turned to my dad. “Dad, we need more evidence.”
“Isn’t that what you sent Watson in there for?” he replied.
“Yes, but it never hurts to have more proof, Dad! Besides, what if Watson is discovered?” I said, though I trusted my robot’s sense of self-preservation enough to know that he would not take any unnecessary risks.
“Oh no! Will they kidnap Watson just like the antique tin robot?” Jimmy said, clutching his face in horror. “We can’t let that happen! Let’s rush in and save him now!”
Nazhar and Wendy both caught Jimmy’s skinny arms before he ran towards the door and into certain danger.
“My neighbour has a Jack Russell that behaves exactly like you do, Jimmy,” Eliza said, crossing her arms.
“Don’t go anywhere, Jimmy,” Dad said. “Your mom would be really unhappy with me if anything happened to you!”
“Okay, I was just trying to help,” Jimmy said, his shoulders sa
gging.
“You’re awesome, Jimmy,” I said. “But this time, we’re up against what looks like professional art thieves. We can’t be too careful. Your mom is going to be so proud of you once we solve this case for her.”
Jimmy beamed at the thought of helping his mom out.
“Okay, Dad. We need to use the camera on your smartphone to take photos from the window,” I said. “Particularly of the wire art.”
Wendy nodded. I could tell from her expression that she was outraged that people would consider stealing art.
“That’s easily done,” Dad said, fiddling with his handphone. “I even have a new program that allows me to insert emoticons into my photographs.”
“I don’t think we’ll need that function today, Dad,” Wendy said with an expression that looked remarkably like Mom’s.
We sneaked up to one of the iron-grille windows of the warehouse and ducked down right beneath it. While still squatting under the window, Dad extended his hand up and used his handphone to take a few photographs of the inside of the warehouse. The rest of us kept watch on the door, ready to make a getaway if the door opened even slightly. As Dad couldn’t see what he was taking, it took him awhile to get the shots that we needed. Finally, we managed to get four good shots of the men and the wire art before creeping back to safety outside the courtyard.
“See, with this application, I can lighten the photographs so that we can see what’s inside even without using the flash function,” Dad said, sounding very pleased with himself as we crouched under the window. “And this is what it would look like in sepia.”
“Focus, Dad!” I said.
“The photograph is in focus, the app does that automatically,” Dad replied before he realised what I had meant. Then he smiled sheepishly. Dad was a tech-geek and could get all caught up in his toys and gadgets.
“You should probably send these over to Sergeant Huda so that she has proof to present to her superiors,” I said. I was worried that the art thieves would emerge from the warehouse and find us lurking outside!
“Good idea, Sam,” Dad said. “But oh dear, the roaming charges are going to be expensive.”
“You can charge it to the case,” I said, impatiently.
“That means it’s going to come out of your weekly allowance, Sam,” Wendy said, snickering. “That would probably mean one less chicken wing for recess.”
“Actually, now that I think about it, perhaps we could take this as your personal contribution to a good cause, Dad,” I quickly added.
“Okay, sent!” Dad said.
“So, now we wait, right?” Nazhar asked.
I nodded. However, we didn’t have to wait for very long as Dad’s handphone vibrated with a response from Sergeant Huda.
“She says we are to stay put and out of sight, and that she’s gathering a team to come with her,” Dad read. “Also, she says I should have just called her because sending photographs while roaming is very expensive.”
“She didn’t really say that, Dad,” Wendy said, peering at Dad’s handphone.
“She should have. It is sage advice.”
We waited for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only about ten minutes. Two police cars and one van rolled up to the front of the courtyard quietly. They didn’t want the art thieves to know that they were about to be invaded by the authorities.
Sergeant Huda walked up and told us to stay with the police vehicles while she and her team did their work.
“But Watson’s still in there,” Jimmy said. Sergeant Huda looked startled at that news.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s invisible and he knows not to take any risks.”
“An invisible robot, eh? Maybe you can loan Watson to our police force one day,” Sergeant Huda said, smiling. “But for now, all of you had better move back.”
The police crept up to the doorway, then banged on the warehouse door a few times. Sergeant Huda shouted, “Open up, it’s the police!” We heard people yelling and things being knocked over from inside the building. Sergeant Huda and her team broke through the locked door and entered the premises. There was more yelling and crashing sounds. Jimmy looked terrified and clung on to Nazhar who did his big brother thing.
“Your mom is probably going to yell at me for letting you kids anywhere near this,” Dad said to me. “But I know she’ll be super proud of you too.”
We waited for about a half hour near the police cars and soon enough, the police had captured the three men in the building, including the man with the geometric tattoos. They were all in handcuffs with their arms behind their backs.
“I need to tell Sergeant Huda about the man with the tattoos, Dad,” I said.
“Wow, his tattoos are really intricate,” Wendy said. “His tattoo artist must be really skilled. I wonder how long it took to get them done.”
Dad narrowed his eyes and frowned at Wendy, who grinned at him.
Sergeant Huda walked up to us and said, “I thought you’d like to know that we think we’ve recovered most of the stolen wire art. Unfortunately, we didn’t retrieve the antique toy robot. But things are still a mess now and it might turn up in one of the boxes.”
“Sergeant Huda, you need to talk to the man with the tattoos,” I said. “He was trying to sell Auntie Vivian’s vintage tin robot to the owner of Ben’s Vintage Toy Museum.”
“Thanks for the tip, Sherlock,” she said. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind during the interrogation.”
Sergeant Huda told Dad that she would be in touch with us once all the suspects had been questioned. Then she headed back to her team. The art thieves were put into police vehicles before being taken to police headquarters.
“What’s an interro—interra—” Jimmy started to ask.
“An interrogation is when the police question suspects to find out more details of their crimes, Jimmy,” Nazhar said. “Sometimes they even get them to confess to their wrong-doings.”
“So Sergeant Huda is going to get them to confess to stealing my mom’s robot?” Jimmy asked.
“We hope so, Jimmy,” I said.
“Well, now that that’s done, we should probably head back to the hotel,” Dad said. “I have five messages from your mom asking me what’s happening.”
“It’s also probably time for an afternoon snack,” I said in all seriousness. Detecting was difficult work and a mind is only at its best when the stomach is well fed.
We walked back to where Dad had parked.
“Wait! What about Watson?” Jimmy said suddenly as we reached the van.
I immediately started to dash back to the crime scene—I couldn’t believe I had forgotten about my robot! However, before I got very far I heard a voice behind me say, “What-took-you-so-long? I-have-been-waiting-for-twenty-minutes.”
“Watson!” I yelled, rushing back to the van. “When did you sneak back into the van? Also, why did you scare us like that?”
“I-was-bored-and-decided-to-take-a-break-and-rest-my-weary-legs,” Watson said.
I really needed to talk to my robot about his sense of humour.
“I-also-believe-I-have-recorded-something-important-and-I-did-not-want-to-continue-to-put-myself-in-harm’s-way.”
What could be more important than capturing the art thieves?
“I don’t understand,” Eliza said. “The police already have the thieves in custody, what else are we looking for?”
“If Watson thinks it’s important, it’s likely to be important,” I replied, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I ignored Wendy’s grossed-out look as Dad handed me a tissue. “Also, we haven’t actually found the vanished robot yet.”
We were all gathered in our hotel room, snacking on the goreng pisang that Dad had bought from one of the street stalls on the way back to the hotel.
“Shouldn’t we get Watson to play the recording instead of snacking?” Wendy asked.
Eliza smirked and even Nazhar couldn’t hold back his smile. Jimmy continued to jump on the bed i
n his socks.
“A full stomach is essential to clear thinking,” I replied, wiping the last bit of grease from my chin. “Watson, please proceed with the recording.”
“I-only-managed-to-get-a-voice-recording-as-I-was-invisible,” Watson said. A whirring sound emerged from his torso and then we heard two male voices speaking:
“WE FOUND A BUYER.”
“MEET AT?”
“ET TIAM PNUA.”
“AIRPORT, ISSIT?”
“YAH, HEH PENG.”
“BETTER TELL HER WE FOUND A BUYER. QUICK, QUICK. IT’S TOMORROW, RIGHT?”
“TOLD HER ALREADY.”
It ended there. “That-is-the-important-part,” Watson said. “The-rest-of-the-time-they-talked-about-where-to-find-the-best-kopi-susu.”
“What’s an et tiam pnua?” Nazhar asked, badly mangling the pronunciation.
“What’s a heh peng?” Eliza asked as well. Her pronunciation was a little bit better.
“Dad, do you know what those words mean?” I asked.
He shrugged and said, “It’s probably Hokkien, which I don’t really know as we found out earlier. I only studied Mandarin in school like you kids.”
“Maybe we can search for the meaning of the words on the Internet,” I said.
“How do you spell pnua? Does it have an ‘h’ or a ‘w’?” Wendy asked. I didn’t know the answer to that unfortunately. Chinese can be tricky. The way a word sounds can be very different from the way it is spelled alphabetically.
“Hmm, let’s see what we can understand then,” I said. “They mentioned an airport. Maybe she’s meeting a buyer at the Penang Airport.”
“How do you know for sure it’s a she, Sherlock?” Wendy asked.
“You need to listen more closely, Wendy,” I said. “The man on the recording clearly says ‘better tell her quick’.”
“Oh yah,” Wendy said.
“And we know that it’s tomorrow,” Eliza added. I nodded.
“Isn’t that enough?” Wendy asked.