She laughed and folded her arms. “You really do have it all worked out, don’t you? Yes, poor Davie. He came to me, told me he’d found some evidence that the body was really there. Although he never mentioned the CCTV. I didn’t work that one out until later.”
“The following morning to be exact,” I said. “That’s when you sent Fred and Ginger back to Davie’s office. At lunchtime, when you knew it would be quiet. As for Maw Cleggan…” I gazed out at the two figures shifting in the darkness, and raised my voice. “Did you two know Mrs Cravat killed your boss?”
The two figures became very still. I could sense their shock.
“Yes, it was Mrs Cravat who put her in the tumble dryer, not me.”
“Oh, call me Julie, please.” Mrs Cravat laughed, and jumped down off the cabinet. “I was wondering when this would come up.”
Fred and Ginger, on the other side of the walkway, both stepped closer. For a second their faces appeared in the light from the streets. Fred’s face was horrified, Ginger’s was just plain horrifying.
“You… YOU killed Maw?” stuttered Fred.
Mrs Cravat opened out her hands and jiggled her fingers about. “Ta-daa! It was me.”
Ginger whimpered. “Maw was like a… well, like a maw to us.”
“Yes, I know, boo-hoo, it’s all very sad,” said Mrs Cravat. “She started questioning my methods, and she threatened to report me to the big boss. She had to go.”
Fred’s face changed from shocked to angry, to downright murderous. “Come on, Ginger, let’s do her!” Ginger nodded, then his face curled into a snarl. He delved into his boiler suit and pulled out a crowbar. The two men leapt forward, one after the other, over the low railings and across the gap between the walkways.
Mrs Cravat was totally unruffled by this. She didn’t even drop her smirk. She simply turned and pulled a lever.
With a loud whirring noise, a hulking shadow behind her came to life. It shunted forward, just as Fred and Ginger were crossing in front of it.
“Uh, what?” was all Fred had time to say, as the moving machinery bumped into him, swept him off his feet and sent him flying over the edge.
“AAAAAHHH!”
Ginger followed closely behind.
“UH… AAAHHHH!”
The two men barely had time to wrap their arms round each other’s necks as they fell.
Seconds later, I heard a CRUMP… CRUMP below us.
“Anyone fancy a gangster pancake?” joked Grandad.
Mrs Cravat pulled the lever again. The machinery stopped whirring. Then she grinned at me. “The crane’s hoist mechanism still works, which is terribly useful at times like this.”
“STOP THIS!” came another voice from the other end of the crane. This time even Mrs Cravat looked surprised. Another figure stepped out of the shadows, wielding something cold, gleaming and metallic.
Chapter 36
The Top-Secret Grandad
A set of piercing brown eyes appeared from under a wide-brimmed fedora. The man’s accent was familiar: Portuguese. Valente stepped into the light. He was clutching a pair of scissors.
“I represent the Global Diamond Federation.”
“Aw, not this guy again!” said Grandad.
“I expect you’re a bit peeved that I nicked all your diamonds,” said Mrs Cravat.
“I am here to negotiate.” Valente’s gaze then shifted to me. “But you can’t kill this boy…”
I was about to breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this guy wasn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe he was going to rescue us. “At least,” he continued, “not until I have finished his hair; it’s a disaster.”
“Seriously?” said Sian.
He held up his scissors and started snipping them. “Yes, seriously.” He smiled at Mrs Cravat. A broad, white-toothed smile. “Don’t worry, we can do a deal on the diamonds.”
“Oh, this is getting tiresome,” said Mrs Cravat. “Look, I’m not really in the deal-doing business.”
She whipped out a long thin tube from inside her leather jacket. She took a deep breath and blew into it, aiming at Valente.
A lightning fast projectile whizzed past my head.
“Ow!” Valente clutched his neck. “What was that?”
“African blow-pipe,” replied Mrs Cravat. “Very useful weapon. I picked it up on one of my many trips to Africa.”
“But… but…” Valente stared at her for a second, then at me. He looked sad, snipped his scissors a few more times, then his eyes rolled and he fell sideways, off the walkway grill and into the darkness.
CRUMP
“She is the flippin’ angel of death, this one,” said Grandad.
Mrs Cravat clapped her palms together like a teacher at the end of a satisfactory lesson. “I’m pleased that’s that taken care of.”
“Oh, wait,” said Grandad. Valente’s dark glasses had landed on the grill nearby. Now they were glowing a ghostly green. Grandad snatched them up, flipped them open and slid them on. “At last, a pair of shades. This is perfect!” He turned to me and opened out his hands. “Look at me, boy. Top-secret Grandad!”
“I’m going to leave you two lovebirds to your doom,” said Mrs Cravat. “Here, watch this…” She placed what looked like a clock radio with a red LED display on top of the metal cabinet she’d been sitting on. It was wrapped in duct tape and connected to a wire, which ran down below the walkway, presumably all the way to the bottom of the crane. She footered with the buttons for a second, then set the red clock numbers to 10:00. She popped up a red button on the top, and then turned and grinned at us. A huge, smug grin that said she’d won and she was in control. “A nice little countdown,” she said. “Ten minutes. And then, BOOM! You, Mr Patel, and you, Ms Hanlon, will be no longer be thorns in my side. By the time they sift through the wreckage and figure out what happened, I’ll be well on my way.”
She tapped one of the buttons, which immediately began the clock’s countdown:
09:59
09:58
Mrs Cravat gave one final laugh, before dashing across the walkway and disappearing down a ladder.
Chapter 37
The Button Dilemma
“Well,” said Sian, tugging on the ropes tying us to the railing, “looks like I’m not getting any Christmas presents this year.”
“Grandad!” I said. “Do something!”
“Grandad?” she asked. What’s this, an imaginary relative?”
“You may as well tell her, boy,” said Grandad. “Not that she’ll believe you.”
“Uh,” I sighed, and collected myself. But how was I supposed to explain to Sian that the ghost of my dead grandad was haunting me. And, indeed, was helping me investigate crimes. It wasn’t going to be easy. Especially as we only had ten minutes to live. “My grandad’s ghost. Only I can see it. He follows me around everywhere.”
“Oh,” said Sian. “that’s… er…”
“Rubbish!” said Grandad. “You make me sound like a Labrador. I do not just follow you around. Why don’t you tell her how many times I have saved your skin?”
“OK, OK,” I said. “He is quite useful sometimes. Also quite ANNOYING.”
“RR-IIIGHT,” said Sian, staring at me like my head was spinning round. “A ghostly grandfather. That’s new.”
“Show some respect for your elders, boy,” said Grandad.
“I can prove it,” I said. “Look.”
“I hope you can be quick about it,” said Sian, trying to wriggle her wrist out of a knot and failing. “Cos if we hang about much longer, pretty soon we’ll be joining him.”
“She’s right, boy,” said Grandad. “We have to think fast!”
09:01
“Grandad, blow in her ear.”
Grandad bent down, took a breath and then puffed in her right ear, like a strong gust of wind blowing up from nowhere. Sian’s hair flew sideways for a moment. Then the gust died away.
“Wo! That’s interesting,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I won’
t ask him to sneeze on you.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Sian, “but I don’t believe in ghosts. At least for the next ten minutes. After that I’m likely to become one myself.”
“I am afraid you might, young lady,” said Grandad, “because I cannot stop this clock.”
“Grandad, you HAVE TO hit that button! Our lives depend on it,” I said.
Sian began rubbing her wrist along the rusted edge of the railing. “If I can just cut through the rope… I mean, it will take a while. Probably too long. But it’s worth a go.”
Grandad shrugged, and turned to try the button. He strained, but nothing happened. “I cannot move it, boy, I am sorry, it’s too stiff and takes too much energy. Even a big juicy sneeze won’t press that button down.”
It was no good. Both Sian and me were tied up tight by the wrists, and Grandad was limited to passing various types of wind. I didn’t see any way we could press that button. I didn’t see any way out of this one at all.
Chapter 38
The Countdown Song
“Wait a minute,” said Grandad. “I’m forgetting my friends.”
“What friends?” I asked.
“What? Friends?” said Sian, frantically sawing the rope against the rusty edge of the railing.
“My friends,” said Grandad, pointing up at the mask, which was still swinging from the pole in the breeze.
“Oh, those friends,” I said.
“Here, I’ll show you.” Grandad blinked. Suddenly the platform was alive with the ghosts of the Mumbari, who were all standing about, yelling.
“Guys! Guys, guys!” called Grandad. “Do you think for one minute we could have a little quiet? We need to help my grandson and his girlfriend.”
The men’s ghastly faces all twisted towards me. I gave them a pained smile. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Who? What?” said Sian.
“I promise you guys,” said Grandad. “If you help us this one last time, my grandson there will get you and your mask home where you belong.”
“What’s going on?” asked Sian.
I rubbed my head, trying to work out how I could possibly begin to explain, that we were negotiating for help with a tribe of African ghosts. “Eh… Doesn’t matter.”
The ghosts grunted, groaned and wailed in approval, and some of them nodded too, except for one, who didn’t have a head. He just wiggled his neck back and forward.
“I think we can press that button down and stop the clock,” said Grandad. “But we will all have to work together, pool all our energy into one.” He pointed out a rusted old wrench lying on the walkway. “Look, there. Why don’t we use that?”
The ghostly tribesmen grunted and moaned again, except for the one without the head, who just whistled air through the hole in his neck.
“Come on, then!” Grandad knelt down and tried grasping hold of the wrench. His hand wouldn’t budge it. One of the tribesmen knelt down and joined him, then another, and another. One by one they knelt down until they were all clutching at the wrench.
Spectral veins bulged in Grandad’s temples.
“HEAVE!”
Every one of them was straining, but the wrench still wouldn’t move.
Then, one of them started singing. It was one of those African tribal songs. One by one the men picked up the melody, harmonizing with each other, singing as one. Even the one without a head could carry a tune.
Just as I was beginning to give up hope the impossible happened. The wrench moved.
First, a grudging centimetre. Then, a hopeful inch, and then, a joyful and magical foot into the air.
“YESSSS!” I cried.
“OHHHH!” cried Sian.
“We’re doing it! We’re doing it!” yelled Grandad.
“So… there really is a ghost,” said Sian.
“Oh, yes,” I said.
“Careful! Careful lads!” said Grandad, as he and his chanting friends stepped slowly towards the countdown clock. A clock that was creeping slowly but surely towards zero.
03:32
Slowly, step-by-step, and inch-by-inch, until finally the spanner was poised right above the red button.
“OK, lads, slowly, let it down,” said Grandad.
Still chanting, the group lowered the wrench down on top of the button.
02:13
And there it stopped, resting on top of it. For a heart-stopping moment I thought it wasn’t going any further, that the wrench wasn’t heavy enough, or the button was stuck.
01:30
“Push it down! Down!” cried Grandad.
The entire team screwed their faces up, even the one who only had half a face, as they pushed down on the wrench.
“Come on! Come on!” I yelled.
They pushed and pushed, until at last the button jolted down, and the wrench tumbled off the edge and fell away. But it was OK, because the clock had stopped.
0:18
“YESSSSS!” cried Grandad, leading his fellow ghosts in celebration. There were high-fives all round, even for the ghost with no hands – he used his feet instead.
“Right,” said Sian, shocked. “So, ghosts exist… That’s going to take a while to sink in.”
“Now we just need to get free of these ropes,” I said.
“And catch Mrs Cravat,” she added.
“If we’re lucky, we might just be in the nick of time.”
I sat back, laughing, watching the African ghost men dance in celebration around the walkway. Grandad joined in at the back. “I LOVE these guys!” he said, and high-fived the man with no head.
Chapter 39
The Terminal Swoop
The precinct outside Glasgow airport thronged with people. Judging by all the loud shirts on display and the sun-tanned limbs, a couple of tourist planes must have just landed. Our taxi screeched to a halt outside. We’d flagged down a people carrier because it was bigger, and we had a lot of people in tow, or should I say ex-people. I slid the door open, and Sian dumped a five-pound note and a lolly in the taxi driver’s hand.
He looked grateful. If only he knew he’d just given a lift to about two dozen ghosts.
Carrying the mask under my arm, I led the others into the terminal building, only to find the police were already there. They’d just arrived. A small army of officers was streaming through another entrance. I’d managed to phone DI Graves after we escaped from the crane.
I spotted Graves leading a pack of armed officers. She beckoned us over to her. “You two! Come on!”
They were moving fast, creating a lot of noise and excitement among the crowd of travellers checking in.
We ran straight through the passport controls, then down a long corridor. Before we knew it, we were running out onto the tarmac. Patrol cars sped across the far end of the runway, sirens blaring, heading for a private plane that was taxiing for take-off.
“That must be her,” said Sian.
“It’s too late,” I heard Graves say. “The cars are too far away to stop her, and so are we.”
“PAH!” said Grandad, and he looked around at the gawping faces, (or, in some cases, gawping neck-holes), of his fellow ghosts. “That’s the woman who stole your mask.” The African ghosts howled. “Let’s see what happens when ghosts really do get into the machine.”
The others nodded gleefully, and then Grandad led them floating towards the plane.
“CH-AAAAARGGE!!”
The plane turned sharply and revved its engines. Once the pilot hit the thruster and sped down the runway we’d have no chance of catching up.
One by one, Grandad and the other ghosts twisted up into the air and dive-bombed into the engines. Both engines roared, then made a wheezing, cranking noise, before spluttering out.
The police cars swooped in, screeching to a halt in front of the plane. Armed officers gathered all around. Eventually, the door opened and a figure stepped out, blonde and wearing black leathers. Her face was white. DI Graves strode towards her. “Mrs Cravat, you’re u
nder arrest.”
Mrs Cravat glared over at me, as I leant on Sian’s shoulder trying to catch my breath. She shook her head and spat, “Kids!”
Grandad and his posse of tribesmen spewed out the back of the engine and landed on the tarmac in an invisible heap. Grandad sat up, nursing his head. “Well, that is definitely the last time I am doing that.”
Chapter 40
The Final Rammy
The police car pulled away, carrying in the back seat an extremely angry and extremely handcuffed Mrs Cravat.
“Don’t worry,” Grandad called after her, “JEWEL be out in twenty years.” He turned to me and nodded. “Get it? Jewel?”
I groaned.
DI Graves appeared at my shoulder. She seemed slightly less grim than usual, now that the mystery had been solved and the criminal captured. “Well done, Jay Patel,” she said. “But, I really mean this in the nicest possible way – I NEVER want to see you again.”
“Huh! Suits us,” said Grandad.
Constable McBurnie appeared, panting and covered in dirt and twigs and bits of spider web. He was holding a wooden club in front of him. When I’d told DI Graves about the stave earlier that day, over the phone, she’d sent McBurnie off to the country park to search for it. “Here it is, that bit of wood you made me look for.”
“The murder weapon? Thank you.” Graves snatched it off him. With the slightest hint of a smile, and I mean the slightest – an eagle with a magnifying glass might have missed it – she turned and melted into the crowd of police officers.
McBurnie stared round at the scene. “Ach! Did I miss ANOTHER rammy?”
“’Fraid so,” I replied.
“AAAAH!”
He plucked the police hat from his head and tossed it away. “That’s it, I quit!”
Top-Secret Grandad and Me Page 12