The Littlest Detective in London

by Suzy Brownlee

  ‘Forty,’ said Clemmy.

  ‘Sixty?’ said Alice.

  Clemmy took the crumpled fifty pound note from her pocket. ‘Fifty. Final offer!’

  He looked at it for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Well, I suppose fifty is better that nothing.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Clemmy held out her hand.

  ‘Here, it’s all yours.’

  ‘Thanks Alice.’

  ‘You’re welcome, you little thief. Here’s my bus.’

  A moment later he had jumped onto the number 52 bus and Clemmy had bought her first mobile phone. Now all she had to do was call Mrs Mac.

  But what was Mrs Mac’s number?

  Oh no. She didn’t have it. She’d never had to call it before.

  Terrific. She was back where she had started and the bus was still nowhere to be seen.

  Then she remembered Origami Pete’s card. She was glad she had ignored Daddy about wearing dirty clothes and put on yesterday’s jeans.

  Pete answered straight away. ‘Moshi, moshi.’

  ‘It’s me, Origami Pete,’ said Clemmy.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness, Mrs Macklebelly is frantic. Wait a minute.’

  Clemmy heard talking in the background. Pete must be talking to Mrs Mac, because whoever it was replied that she was so relieved she needed to make herself an extra large chocolate pudding to replenish her strength. Clemmy’s tummy grumbled; she hoped there would be some left for her.

  ‘Are you okay Short Stuff-chan?’

  Why does everyone keep calling me short? thought Clemmy. ‘Of course I’m okay.’

  Origami Pete laughed. ‘Okay? Didn’t you get carted away in a sack? That’s not okay.’

  ‘It isn’t really her fault.’

  ‘Her?’

  ‘Natasha Commonov.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Pete, are you there?’

  Pete tut-tutted. ‘Now Short Stuff-chan, you know Natasha is in boarding school in Slakistan. You and Mrs Macklebelly have to stop telling us she is here in London.’

  ‘But she is! And I think I can help the old spies get rid of her.’

  Pete had obviously decided to humour her. ‘How will you do that?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later, Pete, but first I need Natasha’s phone.’

  ‘How do you know it’s hers? And why do you need it?’

  ‘Pleeeeease,’ Clemmy pleaded. ‘I just can’t say, but I need to take a look.’

  ‘I don’t know, Short Stuff-chan. It could be dangellous.’

  ‘It won’t be. Trust me Pete. I know how to handle Natasha. Now, about that phone … ’

  … In a 5-star hotel in the City …

  IT TOOK HENCH ABOUT TWO HOURS TO FIND Clementine Bird’s address.

  As he foraged on the computer and phone, Natasha sat in a huge bubble bath, pondering how proud her father was going to be once she had completed her mission. Then he would finally see her as more than a child. She would be his partner. Oh, the crimes they could commit together...

  ‘Come on Hench,’ she called. ‘I haven’t got all day.’

  ‘I am waiting for one more telephone,’ called the hapless henchman, ‘then I will have it.’

  ‘No, you are waiting for a telephone call, you imbecile.’ Natasha sighed for the fiftieth time that afternoon. How could Igor send her the stupidest man in the whole of Europe? When she got hold of Igor, she was going to stuff him in a preowned suitcase and toss him head first into the nearest charity bin!

  Hench finally reported he had the Bird’s address. Natasha leapt out of the bath and wrapped herself in a huge white robe. She opened the door.

  ‘She lives nice and close,’ said Hench, giving Natasha a big, queasy grin.

  ‘Close your mouth, you dolt,’ Natasha held out her hand for the address. ‘You look like a letterbox.’

  Hench snapped his mouth shut and passed over a piece of paper. ‘Shall I drive you, Miss Natasha?’

  ‘No Hench. This time I will deal with that busy little body myself. Igor has sent the codes again. I’ve reprogrammed the device. We are ready to go.’

  Hench looked confused, but Natasha ignored the blank look on his face.

  ‘You stay here and get packing,’ she said. ‘Then get over to the old spies house in Hampstead and prepare the device. Wait for my call before you set it off.’

  ‘Da Miss Natasha.’

  ‘Don’t ... get ... it ... wrong ... Hench.’ Natasha spoke slowly, hoping Hench’s miniscule brain could comprehend how important this mission was. ‘That device can’t be reset. If you turn it off it won’t work. Not even if you turn it on again.’

  Hench squirmed in his silver jumpsuit. Natasha looked at him. ‘Tonight, one way or another, I will get that evidence, and deal with those disgusting old spies. Then we will take the jet and go straight to France.’

  ‘Paris? We are going to Paris?

  ‘Of course, we have to rescue my father, you spindly streak of foolishness.’

  Hench was excited. ‘I’ve never been to Paris.’

  ‘You’ll be going somewhere far south of Paris if you are not careful, Hench.’

  ‘South? Is that Jersey? I’ve never been there either.’

  ‘No, you imbecile! I mean south, as in under the ground!’

  With that, Natasha stormed out, and old spies already forgotten, Hench was left wondering how many silver jumpsuits to pack for his impending visit to France.

  Chapter Ten

  A pide too far

  PETE HAD DECIDED TO GIVE CLEMMY THE phone because he discovered Scotland Yard had sent it back and it was just hanging around in a box at the police station. He couldn’t really see how Short Stuff-chan could get into any trouble with it.

  Stu wasn’t so sure. ‘What if one of those Commonovs decides to call the phone?’

  ‘Stu-san, no one has rung that phone since we got it. And no one answers the solitary number on it.’

  ‘Still, we have to be responsible. You may be a nutjob but I still value my reputation as a cop.’

  ‘Not a nutjob, Japanese. You really must quell your anger, Stu-san.’

  ‘No one says quell anymore, Pete.’

  ‘Quell is a very effective word. Much nicer than saying ‘calm.’ In Japan ...’

  ‘Argh! Just take it!’

  Stu had handed over the phone simply because he couldn’t be bothered arguing anymore.

  Besides, the only Commonov who was not dead or in prison was young Natasha, and she was in a Slakistanian boarding school, probably playing hopscotch.

  ... A few hours later ...

  At the corner of Queen’s Gate Place Mews and Queen’s Gate Place, Natasha told the cab driver to wait. Before he could argue, she thrust 100 pounds at him.

  ‘Okay, I can wait,’ he said, snapping up the glass partition of the black cab and turning on his radio.

  Staring out of the window, Natasha tapped impatiently on the diamante clasp of her pricey handbag. She would wait until the time was right.

  Then she would get even with that busy little body, Clementine Bird.

  ... In a cafe on the Gloucester Road ...

  Clemmy was hugging Pete and jumping up and down. ‘You did it! You got it for me. You are the best, Origami Pete. Totally, completely kooky cool.’

  Pete blushed and said, ‘You are very welcome, Short Stuff-chan.’

  ‘Can I keep it?’

  ‘Definitely not,’ said Pete. ‘I need to take it back in 24 hours. And if anyone calls that phone, don’t answer it. You need to tell me straight away. You have my number, don’t you?’

  Clemmy nodded. It was already programmed into her new mobile – the one Daddy didn’t know about. Poor Daddy. There was a lot he didn’t know about. In fifteen minutes, Daddy was due to meet Clemmy in front of Geraldine’s house, none the wiser that Clemmy had been on the Gloucester Road with Origami Pete.

  Clemmy didn’t like lying to him, but it was all in a good cause – so she could find Mummy.

/>   ‘Now, about the other day, are you and Mrs Macklebelly still pretending the whole kidnapping situation was just a misunderstanding?’

  Mrs Mac told Clemmy the police didn’t believe her about Natasha kidnapping her, so there wasn’t much point trying to convince them.

  Even if Clemmy could convince Pete, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get Natasha and that poor Hench in trouble with the police. Clemmy knew what it was like to lose a parent.

  So, like Mrs Mac, she changed her story.

  ‘I told you, Origami Pete, it was just a mix-up. A funny mix-up.’

  Pete looked at her sternly, ‘Mrs Macklebelly was very worried. She called us said something about a sack.’

  Clemmy made a circle around her ear with her finger. ‘She’s a bit deranged, poor thing.’

  Origami Pete continued to look dubious.

  ‘I went for a walk to say hello to Abdul and saw Geraldine from school on the bus. So I hopped on for a chat, then I got off and caught the C1 bus back home. Mrs Mac panicked, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ Origami Pete stroked his chin. ‘Good story. Not entirely true, though, is it? What about the sack, then?’

  ‘What sack?’ said Clemmy, fluttering her eyelashes, fingers crossed behind her back.

  ‘Really Pete, would I lie to you?’

  ... An hour later ...

  Clemmy’s Daddy decided they should go out for dinner that night.

  She was busy reading Mummy’s book, comparing it with the phone, looking for other clues in the words or the markings.

  ‘It’s the last night of the school holidays. Let’s do something different. I hear there is an excellent pide place by the Globe, Clem. We should try it.’

  Clemmy’s face crumpled into a grimace. She had hoped for schnitzel from the dark little Austrian restaurant down near the station, so she wasn’t thrilled by this new plan.

  Besides, now that she had the phone, she wanted to spend some time checking it out.

  ‘Two questions, Daddy. First, what is pide, and second, what is the Globe?’

  ‘What do they teach you at that school, Clem?’ Horatio Bird shook his head in despair. ‘Pide is Turkish pizza, and The Globe is Shakespeare’s theatre.’

  ‘Isn’t Shakespeare dead, Mr Bird?’ asked Clemmy with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘Only for 500 years, Miss Bird. Now, get your coat. That green tweed one is nice and warm.’

  Again with the warm coat? Do adults develop a cold phobia when they turn 40?

  Still not convinced about the choice of cuisine, Clemmy asked: ‘What’s wrong with Italian pizza? What if I don’t like Turkish pizza.’

  ‘Trust me, your mother used to love it and …’

  Suddenly, Horatio Bird stopped talking, reminded of his missing wife; guilty that he had ruined their evening with talk of Clemmy’s runaway mother.

  ‘Come on. Let’s get going. We’ll have to take the car because there is no direct bus.’ And he bustled Clemmy out of the flat and up the stairs without another word.

  Sighing, Clemmy followed. Hang on! She remembered something important. Something she couldn’t leave unattended in her room.

  ‘Just a moment. I need to get my bag, Daddy.’

  Her father smiled. What a cute kid. Purses at her age. He wondered briefly what his wife, Cordelia, would think of it, but the pain of her disappearance stung once again, and he forced himself to put his absent wife out of his mind.

  … Waiting outside the Bird’s house …

  After seeing the busy little body and her father walk down the stairs to their flat an hour ago, Natasha wondered how long she should wait to put her plan into action. She had let the cab go, just in case the driver saw what she was up to.

  Her idea was to wait until dark, then buzz the Bird’s flat, saying she was being attacked. When Horatio Bird ran up to help her, she would point him in the direction of a nonexistent mugger, then creep downstairs and deal with that miniature pain in the brain, Clementine Bird.

  But her plan was suddenly foiled. Father and daughter appeared at their gate and began walking along the street.

  ‘Now what?’ Natasha watched as they got into an aging white sedan. The car pulled out and began indicating right at Queen’s Gate. She noted the number plate, and then ran to the end of the road and flagged down a cab.

  ‘You okay love?’ asked the cabbie. ‘You need help?’

  ‘I need a cab, you buffoon.’

  Natasha jumped into the back of the cab.

  ‘See zat crappy white car ahead. Follow it.’

  The cabbie laughed. ‘Is this some sort of joke? Follow that car? Hah! You youngsters get crazier every day.’

  ‘Zere is two hundred pounds.’ Natasha pushed four notes through the hole in the glass. ‘Keep ze change. Just follow zat car. NOW!’

  Enticed by the cash, the cabbie complied, although he shot Natasha a worried glance as he put the cab into gear.

  Natasha sat back, satisfied. In the end, everyone complied, either with the inducement of money, or as that bite-sized annoyance was to soon discover, with force.

  … In a restaurant near the Globe Theatre …

  The restaurant turned out to be much nicer than any pizza place near home. Surprisingly, Clemmy liked the look of the delicious food she could see on the plates of other diners.

  ‘Maybe this won’t be so bad,’ she said.‘Wait until you taste the food, Clem. You’ll love it. I promise!’

  As they waited for their pide, Clemmy mustered up the courage to ask about her mother.

  ‘Where do you think she is?’

  Her father sighed. ‘Who knows? We just have to hope she comes back soon.’

  ‘It’s been over a year, though. Maybe something has happened to her.’ Clemmy thought about this a lot. What if her mother was in hospital somewhere, and she couldn’t contact them, shouldn’t they be looking for her?

  Her father looked sad. Clemmy saw he had been biting his nails. That was new. He never did that before. Poor Daddy.

  ‘There are things you don’t understand, Clem. You’re only nine. When you’re bigger, things will become clearer.’

  Clemmy Bird suspected her father knew a lot more than he was saying, and promised herself once again that she would discover what it was.

  Just as soon as she sorted out her problems with Natasha Commonov, of course.

  And discovered the retired spies’ link to Mummy.

  … In the cab outside the restaurant ...

  ‘You going in, love?’ The cabbie was clearly eager to run away and spend his new found wealth.‘In a minute. But you have to wait. I’ll be back. When I get back, drive off as fast as possible. I’ll have someone with me.’

  The cab driver was silent.

  Natasha made to get out of the car, then suddenly turned back. ‘Oh, and I’ve got your name and licence number, so if you do a runner, ze cops will be on your case faster than you can say ‘cor blimey.’

  Sighing deeply, the cabbie sank down into his seat. ‘Make it quick, will you. I’m starving. Actually, you couldn’t get me a small selection of dips, could you? This place has top nosh.’

  Natasha’s scowl provided the answer.

  … Back in the restaurant …

  Clemmy Bird decided pide tasted pretty good and told her father so.

  His face lit up. ‘Good. We hardly ever come over to this side of the Thames. Perhaps we should do it more often.’

  But Clemmy didn’t answer because she was staring at the dark-haired figure standing by the glass doors to the eatery.

  Oh, no, she groaned, it couldn’t be!

  But it was.

  Natasha Commonov!

  The Slakistanian crime princess was dressed in a soft wool navy coat, topped of with a pale pink cashmere scarf and shiny black boots with silver buckles. She really was a very good-looking evil-doer.

  Despite of the situation, Clemmy wished she had the money to dress like that!

  Pay attention, Clementine Bird! she told her
self sternly.

  Finding Mummy and being a family again was far more important than designer clothes!

  Jumping up, Clemmy told her father she needed the lavatory – urgently.

  ‘Are you alright, Clem? Was it the pide?’

  But Clemmy didn’t answer. She was racing towards the toilet, bag in hand.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tower Bridge calling

  NATASHA COMMONOV SAW CLEMMY DASHING TOWARDS the back of the wide, spacious restaurant. She smiled a slow, evil smile.

  Turning on her heel, Natasha marched back out of the restaurant and over to the cab.

  The driver looked up hopefully.

  ‘Food?’ he asked.

  ‘No food,’ Natasha snapped. Why were English cab drivers so infuriating? ‘I want you to drive around to ze back of zis place. I will meet you zere.’

  The driver looked uncertain. Natasha suspected he was still considering driving away with her money.

  ‘Don’t forget I have your details,’ Natasha reminded him, and he reluctantly spun the engine into life and pulled away from the curb.

  … In the ladies’ loo …

  Clemmy knew it was only a matter of time before Natasha appeared inside the lavatory. She spied a window behind the toilet in one of the cubicles. Climbing on the seat, she pulled herself up onto the top of the cistern and pushed open the window. She could just pop outside for a moment, wait until Natasha disappeared, then run back through the front door. Hopefully Daddy wouldn’t notice.

  Being quite small, Clemmy found it tough to heave herself up onto the window sill, but finally she managed to hook one booted foot up through the window. Then she grabbed the frame around the top of the window and pulled herself up. Looking outside, she guessed how high the drop was. Maybe five, or six feet? Could she make it? After all, she didn’t want to break a leg. A cast and crutches might be a little difficult to explain to Daddy.