Art didn’t get a chance to ask any more questions. Mrs. Tasker hurried them inside to do their maths.
The lunch bell rang ,just after they opened their books.
Art hurried outside to find Sam.
His van was just leaving the teachers’ car park.
It was too late.
Chapter 11
Lost and Found
Art went home for lunch because Mum was on late shift. He ran, so he’d have time to do something else as well. He gulped his thick pea and ham soup, vegetable roll and fruit salad.
‘What’s the hurry?’ Mum poured herself another coffee.
‘I wanted to call in at the pet shop and the photographer’s before I go back to school.’
‘What for?’
He knew that question was coming. ‘Just want to look at some things.’
‘You know we can’t have a kitten here. The fur might affect your asthma.’
‘I want to look at a birdcage and maybe a hollow log.’
‘A bird wouldn’t be a good idea here either.’
I want to look at the cage, not buy the bird.’ Art wondered if he should tell his mum what he was looking for. Mystery-solvers were supposed to work out everything by themselves. So far, he hadn’t found many clues and it was nearly Saturday.
‘Mr. Snip-pets has lost Serena, his crested featherfoot fantail pigeon.I’m trying to find it before the wedding.’
‘Has he advertised in the newspaper’s Lost and Found column? Or tried online?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘If someone found the bird, they might put a notice in the Found column. Have a look.’
‘You read it Mum.’
‘I’ll find the page and the site. Then you can look for yourself. Don’t throw the papers away afterwards. I want to keep your photo to show Dad. I might ask Mrs. Next-Door for hers. That would give us a second one.’
Art could tell Mum was pleased.
‘I don’t know why they interviewed young Mario if it was you who saved the baby. ‘
‘Is that what it says?’ Art peered at the words.
‘Look for yourself.’
Slowly Art read the words which made Mario sound like a hero.
‘Sounds like Mars Bar. He usually talks about himself.’
Under Lost and Found were cats, keys and wallets but no birds. Art decided to search for Serena himself, at the pet shop and at the photographer’s place.
During what was left of lunchtime,Art was very busy. Panting, he jogged down to the petshop.
His breathing was going wrong again. He stopped and felt for his puffer. He wasn’t going to let asthma get in the way of solving the mystery of the missing Serena.
‘Hi,’ he called to Mr.Snip-pets on the way through to the yard. He wanted to check on the hollow logs. A bird could nest in there, like the photos of the nesting birds in Mrs.Tasker’s book. ‘Any news about Serena?’
‘No. But the birds have been dyed.’
‘What? Died? You mean dead? Have the other doves died? ‘ Art was alarmed.
‘No. I just coloured them. It was your friend’s idea. Something different. Over there. Look.’
Art stared at the rainbow birds flying around in the aviary. ‘They’re beautiful.’
‘I hope the bride thinks so. She’ll be disappointed about Serena.’
‘She may turn up yet,’ said Art hopefully as he moved towards the cobwebby part of the back fence. There were a few logs. And a few spiders. One big log was on its side. Art knelt and peered inside. It was hollow.
Something cooed.
‘Serena?’ Gently Art put in his hand. The bird had made a nest. It was deep inside , away from the rain.
‘Mr. Snip-pets!’ called Art over his shoulder.
Just then the phone rang, and Mr Snip-pets turned to answer it.
“Hello. Snip-pets Pet Supplies.’
Carefully, Art put his hand back into the log and touched the soft feathers. ‘Serena?’
Mr Snip-pets returned. ‘Someone’s found a bird.’
‘Which bird?’ asked Art. ‘Is it…but it can’t be …’He looked back at the log. ‘Is it a pigeon?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it …white?’
‘Not at present.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What has been found is a green bird.’
‘Oh…’
‘My neighbour found it on her lawn. Because I’ve got the pet shop with aviaries, she wants to give it to me. She asked if I’d like it. I said,’Thank you Madam, I think he belongs to me anyway. One must have escaped while I was dying them.” ‘
Mr.Snip-pets seemed to make a hobby of losing birds.
‘I think I’ve found ... Come and have a look.’
Art squatted down. Mr. Snip-pets knelt alongside him.
‘A nest! Of course, I should have looked around here.’
‘She wasn’t here a few days ago, ’said Art. ‘I checked.’
Very gently, Mr. Snip-pets pulled the bird out of the log. He smoothed the feathers and patted the dove. ‘Thanks a lot Art. Very glad to find her.’
Just then, the white dove fluttered and flew upwards. It perched on the outside of the aviary.Inside, the rainbow doves started to coo. Art stared. Something was wrong. The bird was the wrong shape. Its tail was not a fan.
‘That isn’t a crested feather foot fantail pigeon.’
‘It isn’t Serena.’
‘Correct. It’s Henrietta. She went missing on Wednesday.’
Art despaired. Perhaps Mr. Snip-pets should change the name of his shop to Lost Birdbrains.
Back inside the shop, Art looked at the bird labels.
‘Are they love birds?’
‘That’s the name on the cage. I sell them in pairs. But it’s been a bit quiet lately.’
“I know how you could sell some more,’ suggested Art. ‘Put a red bow on the cage and put them out front as St Valentine’s Day love birds.’
‘That’s an idea!’ said Mr. Snip-pets.’ Thirty-five dollars a pair. Want to write me a nice label? I’ve got a red texta here somewhere.’
‘Er ... I’m not much good at that,’ Art looked around. ‘India could do it. But she’s at school.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘ I’m late and Mrs. Tasker will chuck a mental.’
Art ran puffing back to school.
Sam was next on his list of suspects. After school, he’d find out if Sam the fantasy photographer was a pigeon-napper.
Chapter 12
Bird Shot
Photo Fantasy was empty.
Art had knocked but no one answered, so he pushed open the door. Inside the studio-shop, giant photographs covered the walls. Big faces. Smiling teeth. Eyebrows so large you could see each hair. It was like walking into a crowd of flat giants.
Near the door was a black desk with a black , very hi-tech mobile.
‘Excuse me!’ called Art. ‘Hello. Is anyone there?’
There was a big couch draped with a velvet rug. Art ran his fingers along the top.It felt smooth. Just then the mobile rang.
Art moved closer.
It kept ringing.
He didn’t know whether he should answer it. The shape was unusual, so he had trouble lifting the receiver.
Then he saw it.
A spot of something white had dropped on the mobile. It was dry, not wet. So it must have dropped a while ago.
‘Hello.’
The mobile went dead. The caller had hung up.
Art looked behind him.
There were a few white spots on the floor.
Bird droppings?
Had a fantail pigeon been in here?
Had Serena been pigeon-napped by the photographer?
There was a sound behind him
.
Art swung around.
In the doorway was Sam. He was carrying several cameras and a white umbrella. He looked puzzled.
‘Did you have an appointment?’
Art shook his head.
‘Sometimes, when I’m doing interesting work, I forget the time. I’ve just shot the most beautiful…Hey didn’t I meet you up at the school?’
‘Yes. But I wanted to ask about ...’
‘Your school photos won’t be ready yet. They have to be developed in the dark room.’ Sam nodded towards the back of the shop. ‘But I’ve got something else for you.’
He opened a door in the side wall. He pulled out a big photo backed with cardboard.
‘D’you know him?’
Art looked. ‘It’s me.’
‘That’s right. Took it the other night outside the fruit shop. I thought your parents might like a copy.’
‘This is like the one in the newspaper.’
‘Yes. I took a few. I do all kinds of work. But I like unusual shots best. Got a beauty in here.’
Sam tapped his camera.
Art blurted out. ‘Have you ever shot a bird?’
Puzzled, Sam replied,’ I don’t agree with violence. You mean duck shooting and stuff like that?’
Art kept trying. ‘Not ducks. Pigeons. Doves.’
‘No, I don’t believe in killing. Why? Are you doing school assignments or something?’
‘No.’ Art was getting confused.’ Er, I’m trying to solve a mystery.’
‘This whole conversation is a mystery to me.’ Sam carefully unpacked his gear. He put the open white umbrella in the corner. Art tried again. ‘Do you take photos of weddings?’
‘Only if people book me.’
‘Do you ever photograph brides holding doves?’
‘Ah… Now we’re getting somewhere.’
‘Do you?’
‘Not yet.’
By the time Art left Photo Fantasy he had collected enough clues to solve the mystery of the missing Serena. The only problem was whether he could get Serena back in time for the wedding photos.
Chapter 13
Market Spy
Even at 6 o’clock in the morning, the market was busy. Rows and rows of stalls. Bird noises everywhere. Beak pecking. Wings fluttering. The smell of birds and animals of all kinds. Stalls were being set up.Trucks were being unpacked. Regular sellers knew the routine, but casuals got in the way.
Crates of poultry were stacked on tables and on the ground. Sellers called out, but I was hard to work out what they were saying. The words joined together like a chain of sound.
‘How will I ever find Serena?’ muttered Art.’We’ve only got a few minutes .Where are India and Mario?’
All night, Art had dreamed of doves flying. Sometimes the doves were taking photos of the people. Sometimes the people were taking photos of the doves.
‘Hey, Mario! There you are. Sorry I’m late. I slept through my alarm.’
I got your message.’ Mario looked around. ‘Con is the only one I know. He’s one of my cousins. He’s the market superintendent. I’ll ask him.’
If Sam was telling the truth, then Serena, the crested featherfoot fantail pigeon was in the area. Now he just had to find her before the wedding at 3 o’clock. That meant he needed the help of India and Mario’s family.
‘Mars Bar, thanks for helping.’ Art said awkwardly. ‘Let’s hurry.’
Mario was interested in the reward but Art didn’t know that.
‘Don’t worry. You’ll pay me back later. Or else!’
Mario had a big family. Several of them had stalls at the market. It would be quicker if Mario asked them about the missing fantail. ‘Sam the Photo Fantasy man said she’d be here. Serena was in his studio before. He even photographed her .’
‘How do you know that?’
‘You know how he was filling in for his partner Bill, taking our school photos?’
‘No,’ said Mario.
‘Well, if you’d listen,’ Art was exasperated. ‘I’ll tell you.’
India was dragging Tiny. ‘Hurry up. We’re supposed to be at Dog DIS -obedience classes this morning. But we’ll help look for Serena first, Art.’
‘Thought they were called obedience classes?’ said Mario.
Only for other dogs. Tiny is different.’
‘Let’s hurry,” Art was losing his cool. He felt bad about sleeping in. His chest was beginning to hurt and his breathing was getting hard. He was so close to finding Serena. But he did need their help. The market closed in an hour.
‘Okay. But I’ll have to bring tiny with me,’ India insisted.
Art wasn’t sure if there was a law against dogs like Tiny bounding up the aisles between the birds. But it was too late to find out. Tiny moved so fast he was dragging India.
‘Hey! Get that dog out of here.’
They did try. But Tiny had seen a chicken fluttering in the corner. He bounded over to it.
‘Tiny!’ called India who was dragged along with him.
But Tiny was having fun. He poked his nose into the bundle of feathers. The feathers started running and so did Tiny.
Art grabbed for the leash which India was trying to hold. Tiny kept moving up the aisle between the stalls. So did India and Art. Art’s sneakers couldn’t get a grip on the slippery ground. All around them, bird owners were yelling.
‘Hey. Tiny!’
‘Sit down!’ screamed India. ‘Sit!’
Suddenly Tiny skidded to a stop. His back legs acted like brakes. He panted. The chicken had reached the safety of the open cage.
‘Good boy!’ panted India. The bird noises increased. Bird heads poked out of crates. Beaks opened and closed.
‘Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.’
‘Get that dog out of here,’ warned a stall owner. ‘Out!’
Dogs for sale were already in cages. So were geese, ducks and even guinea pigs. If Tiny wasn’t carefully, he’d be…’
The three children dragged Tiny away.
‘Good boy,’ India patted Tiny.
‘What’s good about tiny doing that?’ Mario watched. ‘He nearly frightened that chicken to death.’
‘He only knows how to do two things: sit and drop. If you say anything, he knows he’s got a fifty percent chance of being right.’
‘Sell him then,’ said Mario.
“No way,’ said India. ‘He’s mine, unfortunately.’
Crossly, Art panted, ’We’re trying to find Serena, not train Tiny. We’ve got to check every stall…quickly.’
Just then, a voice boomed over the loudspeaker.
‘This message is for the owner of car number plate ECP 007. You’ve left your lights on.’
‘Dumb thing to do. Gives you a flat battery.’ said Mario. Happened to Grandad’s truck once.’
‘I know,’said Art.’ The announcement had given him an idea.
Panting, Art glanced at his watch.
There were rows and rows of birds in crates. And there were lots of aisles but not all had birds. Geese hissed. Ducks quacked. Pigeons cooed.Even the rabbits looked out at passersby.
They wouldn’t have time to look at every bird. They might not even have time to find Serena before the market sellers packed up.
‘Sam told me that Bill gave Serena to a guy who comes to the market. He brings lots of different birds. The man was going to sell Serena.’
‘How did Sam get her?’ asked India.
‘Long story. I’ll tell you later.’
‘So many different kinds of birds. Let’s look for someone selling doves,’ decided India ‘Is there one aisle for doves?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You start. I’ve got a faster way.I’ve got to do something.’ Art raced off towards the market office.
/> ‘Hey!’ called India. ‘What do we do when we find Serena?’
‘Pigeon-nap her,’ suggested Mario.’ Before she’s sold.’
‘Meet Con. He’s my cousin. He runs the market office.’ Con was very large and helpful. Arm muscles under his cream and brown uniform stood out like balloons.’Need some help with finding a bird, young Mario?’ He gave a big laugh.
“Yeah. M’friend Art does.’
Art explained about Serena. Then he asked Con for a favour.
‘No worries,’ said Con. ‘Just come into the office.’
Soon the loudspeakers boomed again.
‘Another message. Would anyone with a crested featherfoot fantailed pigeon for sale today please contact the market office. We have an interested party here.’
‘An interested party.What does that mean?’ muttered India as Art came out of the office.
‘Me. I hope he comes,’ Art felt for his puffer. His breathing was getting hard again. He took some deep breaths.
‘How can Serena be sold if she was stolen?’
‘Found not stolen. But Sam didn’t try very hard to find the owner.’
‘Is it a bit like a lost wallet you hand in to the police station? If no one claims it after a while, you can have it,’ suggested India.
Just then, a little man hurried up to the market office. On his arm was a fantail pigeon.
‘Excuse me. Are you the one interested in buying a fantail?’
‘Not exactly,’ confessed Art. ‘But I want to look at her.’
‘Do you know about this bird? ‘ asked Con.
‘The lad claims the bird is called Serena and belongs to Mr. Snip-pets. Let me have a look.’
Con looked at the bird. She was white and beautiful. He checked her neck and her feet.
‘Er ... I think this could be her,’ said Art.’ She’s er…crested.’
‘Is she a featherfoot?’ asked India
‘Yes,’ said Art. ‘Look at the feathers on her legs. And she’s got a little white band. Mr.Snip-pets told me he put that on.’
Birds on the Brain Page 5