Casper Candlewacks in the Claws of Crime!

by Ivan Brett

  With a couple of nimble leaps over three weeks of dirty laundry, Casper reached the other side of his room and rooted around among the mess. He fished out a tin can attached to a string leading out of his window.

  “Lamp,” he whispered into the can. “Are you there?” Casper could make out snoring on the other end. “Lamp!” he rasped, as loudly as he dared.

  There was a grunt and a heavy bump. “Daisy?” mumbled Lamp.

  “No, it’s Casper.”

  “Oh. Can you put Daisy on?”

  “She’s not here, Lamp.

  Were you asleep?”

  “Yes. Very.”

  “Sorry, Lamp. But this is an emergency.”

  “Can’t we do it in the morning?”

  “No, that’s too late. We have to go now.”

  “Go where?”

  “I’ll be outside your house in ten minutes. Tell you then.”

  “What about the fur queue?”

  “The fur queue?”

  “No, I mean the

  perfume.”

  “What perfume?”

  “The Corfu. The curlew, the… Oh, I don’t know what it is, Casper. The rule where we’re not allowed outside at night.”

  Casper held back a giggle. “You mean the curfew?”

  “That’s what I said.” Lamp sounded frustrated.

  “We’ll just have to be extra quiet. Bring your sponge shoes.”

  “Yesss.”

  Hearing a clunk and some shuffling on the other end, Casper got on with preparations. He grabbed a holey black jumper and pulled on a woolly blue hat to cover his hair. Into his backpack he threw his torch (for light), a penknife (for protection) and an apple (in case he wanted an apple). Then he found his stiff leather belt and a handful of dog biscuits (left over from a failed attempt to house-train Cuddles) and he was ready. With the bag lugged over his shoulder, Casper padded out of his room as silently as his shoes would allow. It only took one wave of a miniature crunchy bone biscuit to grab Cuddles’ attention. She pricked up her nose, sniffed and bounded through the hall towards Casper, leaping upwards, jaws first, at his hand. With one swift move Casper snatched the biscuit away, grabbed the scruff of Cuddles’ neck and looped one end of the leather belt round her frilly collar. With Cuddles safely restrained, he popped the bone biscuit in her mouth to keep her quiet and shoved her under his arm. Then he headed out through the front door, closing it softly behind him.

  Night-time in Corne-on-the-Kobb is basically the same as daytime, except all the idiots are replaced by darkness and the shops are closed. Sometimes one of the villagers forgets to go to bed and just saunters around town wondering who turned off the lights, but not tonight, not with the curfew.

  The deserted streets still held the day’s warmth, which had softened the tarmac under Casper’s feet to a tacky mess, a similar texture to the crust on his dad’s famous cough-syrup sponge. Cuddles scuttled along in front, straining on the leather belt and occasionally stopping to sniff a tree trunk or gobble some crumbs. At the end of Cracklin’ Crescent Casper turned right, and then right again towards Lamp’s garage.

  Lamp appeared from beneath the shadows in a pair of pale-blue stripy pyjamas and matching nightcap, plus his home-made pair of sponge shoes (useful for super-silent tiptoeing and mopping up spillages). He blinked in the moonlight and rubbed his eyes. “I hope this is important, Casper,” Lamp grumbled. “I was dreaming about dolphins.”

  “Sorry Lamp, but this is huge.”

  Lamp looked at Casper and frowned. “It looks normal size.”

  “I learnt three new things tonight,” Casper continued. “First, Cuddles absolutely loves ca—”

  “TAT?”

  “Never mind that one. She might come in useful, that’s all, because second, we need to catch…” – he dropped his voice to a whisper – “Le Chat.”

  “Yes, we do,” whispered Lamp, nodding knowingly. “Do we? Why?”

  “For the reward money.”

  “I don’t need money, though.” Lamp got everything he needed from the Kobb-Valley rubbish tip, where you can have all the scrap metal you want if you say hello to Mr Flee and pat his dogs.

  “No, for my dad,” said Casper. “He needs his restaurant back, and he can’t do it without twenty thousand pounds.”

  “Can’t he just go and ask Mr Flee and pat his dogs?”

  “Mr Flee doesn’t give away restaurants, Lamp. That’s something you have to buy.”

  “Oh.” Lamp nodded and made a mental note to write that down.

  “Anyway, the third thing I learnt is that the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “‘To check nuffin’s outta place’,” Casper said, doing his best impression of Cuffs Parkhurst. It hurt his throat, so he went back to normal. “Rub out any fingerprints – that sort of thing.”

  Lamp looked at his fingers for a bit and then shrugged. “Which one’s the prince?”

  “Prints, Lamp. Whenever you touch something your fingers leave marks.”

  “That’s clever.” Lamp pulled an impressed face and tried to shake his own hand.

  “My point is this – we know where we can find Le—” Casper remembered Cuddles and stopped himself.

  “Splat,” helped Lamp.

  “TAT!”

  Casper stuffed a dog biscuit into Cuddles’s mouth. “Yes, and with Cuddles we’ve got the perfect catcher. She’s started chasing… erm…” – he spelt it out – “C, A, Ts, you see, but not to catch them. She loves them.”

  Lamp couldn’t spell so he had no idea what Casper was on about.

  Casper continued. “So we let her at Le… the cat burglar, she’ll cuddle him to the ground and we get the twenty thousand pounds!”

  Lamp wrinkled his face. “Do we have to? I’m tired and the dolphins are waiting.”

  “I thought you liked saving the day,” said Casper, disappointed.

  “But it’s not the day,” said Lamp, pointing at the moon. “It’s the night, and that’s when you’re s’posed to be in bed.” He looked up at his window longingly.

  “Come on, Lamp, please? For my dad?” Casper didn’t want to admit it, but adventures weren’t the same without Lamp.

  Silence fell while Lamp thought about it, punctuated only by the sound of Cuddles gnawing on Casper’s shoe. Eventually Lamp sighed. “All right, I’ll come. I can dream about dolphins in the morning.”

  “Great,” grinned Casper. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “The village vault.” Casper yanked Cuddles out of a rabbit hole and set off towards the village square, with Lamp shuffling behind, muttering to himself something about portable duvets. They passed through the moonlit park where a cool breeze disturbed the parched earth and blew little clouds of dust around, stinging Casper’s eyes.

  “Casper?” said Lamp.

  “Hm?”

  “Who do you think it is then? I mean Le—”

  “Yeah, I know who you mean. Wouldn’t put it past Anemonie.” Casper scowled at the thought of her. “She’s done far worse.”

  “What about that smoking man we saw in the square?”

  “The French-looking one? Could be him.”

  “Or Napoleon.”

  “But he’s not alive, Lamp.”

  “I see your point,” said Lamp, sucking his finger. “He is French, though. What about Dracula? He’s always doing naughty things. Or Darth Vader.”

  Casper sighed.

  The three reached the end of the park and stepped on to the cobbled street leading to the village square.

  “Stop,” hissed Casper, spotting the light from a torch up ahead. “Someone’s on patrol.”

  Lamp huffed. “How can we get to the vault now?”

  “No idea. Shh! We’ll get a bit closer.” Casper popped another doggy treat into Cuddles’ mouth to keep her quiet, and together they crept through the shadowed street towards the square.

  “Get down!” They
dived behind a big plant pot in front of Blossom’s Bloomers just in time to avoid the swish of the sentry’s torch. Casper gripped Cuddles’ lips tight and mouthed at Lamp, “Don’t. Make. A. Noise.” The torch swept past again, followed by the sound of slow footsteps.

  Cuddles gurgled.

  The torch swung towards them. “’Ere, oo’s there?” It was the voice of village gardener Sandy Landscape, not five metres away, and getting closer. “Come out and show yerself.”

  Cowering behind his conifer, Casper didn’t even dare to breathe. Trembling, he shut his eyes tight and crossed his terrified fingers.

  Suddenly, from across the square came another sound. It was a girl’s voice, muffled and indistinct. “Oy, Sandy, over here.”

  “Eh?” Sandy grunted. He spun round and galloped out of the square in pursuit of the voice.

  Lamp exhaled and sagged his head. “I thought we were goners.”

  “I recognise that voice,” said Casper. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Now that you mention the Bluff Boiler,” said Lamp (who obviously hadn’t been listening), “I think I’ve got it working. All it needed was the spinny bit from an electric whisk and half a packet of cornflakes to get the motor running.”

  “Shh! Tell me about it later.” Casper only turned round for an instant, but when he turned back two things had changed. Firstly the door to the village vault was hanging open just a crack, and secondly, a soft light glowed from inside.

  “We’ve missed him! He’s in there already.”

  “He didn’t even knock,” said Lamp.

  “Jewel thieves never knock. They don’t have to.”

  “Well, that’s just rude.”

  “Come on, let’s get a closer look.”

  The square was deserted now. Sandy Landscape was far away, chasing through dark streets yelling rude words at shadows. Casper, Lamp and Cuddles darted towards the vault. A glance through the front window sent Casper’s heart thumping. He ducked down, grabbing Cuddles and cowering behind the safety of the wall. Le Chat was right there! He dared to peep through the window again. Dressed in a black leotard with a long thin tail, pricky-up ears and black whiskers, Le Chat slunk round the vault room wiping surfaces with a tiny black cloth. The light from inside cast skewed feline silhouettes of the mystery cat burglar on to the inside of the open door.

  Cuddles spotted the shadow. Her face suddenly tensed.

  “TATATATA!” screeched Cuddles, tugging wildly on the leather belt and straining with fury against Casper’s grip. The silhouette sat bolt upright.

  “Now, Cuddles!” yelled Casper, unleashing the beast with a flick of his wrist. “Go get him!”

  From inside the vault came a woman’s scream and the gnash of teeth followed by more yelps, the tinkling of glass, and then silence.

  Casper sprang to his feet and rushed into the vault with Lamp hot on his tail. Inside was chaos: broken glass and toppled chairs lined the floor, but no Le Chat and no Cuddles.

  “Where’ve they gone?”

  “Through here,” called Lamp, pointing to a smashed window at the back of the room. On one of the sharp edges dangled a shred of pink ribbon flapping happily in the late-evening breeze.

  “Cuddles?” Casper wrenched the window open and clambered out, falling to the glass-sprinkled ground with a crunch. Lamp belly-flopped from the windowsill and landed on top of him, knocking the wind from his lungs.

  “Where are they?” wheezed Casper. “Where are they?” But there was no sign of Le Chat or Cuddles, just an empty road scattered with broken glass and a lonely fox watching the action from an alleyway.

  As a bewildered Sandy Landscape returned to find the vault door wide open for the second night running, Casper and Lamp stumbled through deserted back streets, picking shards of splintered glass out of areas they didn’t even know they had.

  The first cracks of sunlight peeped over the horizon. Morning flooded the streets of Corne-on-the-Kobb, chasing night (which is a total wimp and terrified of sunlight) back to its underground lair. Casper and Lamp were still out, searching in bins and under loose bits of pavement. They’d found some bricks, half a cheese sandwich (which Lamp shared with a lonely fox) and Sandy Landscape napping in an alley, but they hadn’t found Cuddles. There was no sign of the missing baby. She was well and truly lost.

  “We say nothing, OK?” said Casper, limping on his left leg.

  Lamp dragged his feet on the tarmac.

  “Did you hear me, Lamp?”

  “I was practising.”

  “You don’t have to be completely silent. Just don’t tell anyone we left our beds tonight.”

  “We did, Casper. I remember it.”

  “No, Lamp, listen. We have to tell them that we stayed in bed; otherwise we’ll be in big trouble. Understand?”

  “Big trouble…” Lamp looked at his grazed hands and sniffed. “Mum says I’m not to lie, Casper.”

  “She’s right, but this is a special occasion. All we need to do is find Cuddles and we’ll be fine. Until then, we can’t tell anyone what happened.”

  “What do I say then?”

  “Just say you were asleep.”

  “Dreaming of dolphins?”

  “Yes, dreaming of dolphins.”

  “I s’pose I can do that.” Lamp bit his lip and spent the rest of the walk home practising. “No, Mum, I was at home, asleep, dreaming of dolphins,” he repeated. “I can’t have been out of bed, officer. I was dreaming of dolphins, you see.”

  Casper patted his friend on the back and sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  If Casper had expected to see Cuddles patiently panting by the front door chewing a long black tail and looking pleased with herself, he was dismayed to find nothing but his old pair of wellies and the lonely fox. Even if he dressed the fox in pink and sharpened its teeth, it still wouldn’t look anything like Cuddles. Casper turned his key in the lock and tiptoed in, past his snoring father and the blaring telly, up the creaking stairs and into his room. It was only after collapsing on to his bed that the full force of Casper’s actions struck home – he’d gone and lost the baby.

  “How am I going to get out of this one?” he asked the ceiling.

  The ceiling didn’t respond.

  Even though he’d been up all night, Casper, lying fully clothed on his bed, didn’t close his eyes and he didn’t fall asleep. Right now, somewhere out there, Cuddles was screaming and biting and banging her little head – but where? He hadn’t a clue. And then Le Chat’s scream. Was he… was she a woman?

  Twice Casper heard a bang outside, twice he sat bolt upright and leapt to the window, but it was only the lonely fox playing hopscotch. He even thought about going back out to look, but if he got caught then people would start asking questions. And not nice questions like, “Would you like some ice cream?” No – awkward questions like, “Why are you out after the curfew?” and “Does your mum know you’re here?”

  Casper tossed and turned through hours of sweaty fretting, listening to the birds’ choir practice, until exhaustion overpowered his worry and he drifted off into a cloudy and restless sleep.

  Thirty-eight seconds later, somebody shouted, “Found you!”

  Casper awoke with a jolt as the somebody grabbed his toes. “ARGH!” He bonked his head on the wall in his confusion.

  Amanda emerged from the foot of his bed. “Sorry, darling. Thought you were Cuddles. We’re playing hide-and-seek, you see.” She tiptoed across the room and threw open Casper’s wardrobe. “GOTCHA! Oh…” A pile of crumpled clothes and a startled mouse flumped out on to the floor, but Cuddles didn’t.

  With a purple lump swelling on the back of Casper’s head and the morning sunlight stinging his eyes, Casper’s brain didn’t have space to remember why he’d only had thirty-eight seconds of sleep. But then the terrors of last night came flooding back and the pit of Casper’s stomach dropped. Amanda wouldn’t find Cuddles no matter how hard she looked.

  “She’s a good hider, I’ll give her that,”
chuckled Amanda, bustling out of Casper’s room and on to the landing. “But she’s not won yet. You just wait until I check in… HERE! Bother.”

  He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to explain what he’d done, why he’d done it and what he planned to do next. But he didn’t dare; he just climbed out of bed and searched for his jeans. It took a groggy minute for Casper to realise he was still wearing them, as well as last night’s T-shirt and shoes. Feeling too tired, too guilty, too absolutely rotten, he rolled out of his room without changing.

  “I see you down there!” Dirty smalls and sweaty shirts flew across the landing as Amanda dived into the washing basket. She emerged with a pair of pants hung round each ear and holding a large bundle of pink socks. “Nope, not her after all. Smells the same though.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “You get it,” sang Amanda, “I’m playing!” She skipped away to the bathroom to search down the toilet.

  Casper trudged down the stairs feeling really sick and guiltier than ever, and pulled open the front door.

  One-hundred-and-one unblinking eyes on fifty unblinking faces watched Casper from his drive. Instinctively, he slammed the door and leant on it, pinching himself hard in case he was dreaming. After all, he’d only managed thirty-eight seconds of sleep last night; it was entirely possible he’d fallen asleep halfway down the stairs. No such luck – the pinch just hurt.

  There was another knock at the door.

  Casper peeped through his letterbox at the waiting crowd. On the doorstep stood, well, everyone. There were short fat women, tall thin men and some somewhere in between. Some wore hats, some held cats, one man balanced on a unicycle. They couldn’t have been from Corne-on-the-Kobb because Casper didn’t recognise one face. “Who are you?”