Casper Candlewacks in the Claws of Crime!

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Casper Candlewacks in the Claws of Crime! Page 11

by Ivan Brett


  Two miles away the pigeons fluttered down from the rafters and hungrily pecked at Mayor Rattsbulge’s abandoned sausage rolls.

  Three miles away, Clemmie Answorth couldn’t find her way home, so she stopped to ask for directions from a snarling wolf.

  Four miles away, Mayor Rattsbulge picked a jellybean off the fake plastic sword and chewed slowly, confusion etched across his blubbery face.

  Five miles away, a green-eyed, curly-haired young girl in a black leotard knocked on the wooden door of Mr and Mrs Higgins, claiming that her name was Poppy Bouquet and that she was lost. They invited her in warmly with the promise of hot chocolate and a bed. The next morning when they came to wake her she was gone, as were the contents of Mrs Higgins’s jewellery drawer.

  The boys took one of Lavender’s arms each while Cuddles perched on her head, claws dug deep into her scalp. Together they herded their prisoner back to Corne-on-the-Kobb, while Tiddles wound his way clumsily around their feet. Mayor Rattsbulge was delighted to see the sword, more delighted still when he couldn’t eat the rubies, but then utterly undelighted when he had to fork out twenty thousand of his precious pounds to the mucky boys that stood before him. Baz and Gaz Laszlo dragged Lavender to the cellar of the Horse and Horse (to be dealt with in the morning) and triple-padlocked the trapdoor, while the Blights were released without an apology.

  The crowds were furious that they hadn’t got their reward and sneered over their spectacles at the boys. Cuddles hung round Casper’s neck, lurching out to gnash villagers as they passed.

  They stopped by the postbox on Feete Street and Casper counted two hundred crumpled fifty-pound notes out of the mayor’s plastic bag of money and handed them to Lamp. “Ten thousand pounds. That’s half.”

  He looked at the wad of cash for a while and then gave it back. “I don’t really want it. Money’s boring. Give my half to your dad.”

  “I was giving him my half too,” grinned Casper.

  “Can he buy a new restaurant with that much?”

  “Hope so, I’m starving.”

  “Me too.” Lamp rubbed his belly. “All I’ve had is eggs.”

  Cuddles yapped, so Casper gave her a fifty-pound note to chew on.

  “Well, bye then, Casper,” grinned Lamp. “I like it when we go on adventures.”

  “Yeah. Tiring though.” Casper yawned.

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “Definitely.”

  Lamp sponged off down the road, leaving a wake of filthy feathers.

  Amanda screamed when she saw Cuddles and spun her round in circles, smothering her in sloppy smooches until the scratching stung too much. The bag of money gave Julius a coughing fit, but he put on a serious face and told Casper, “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

  Bed felt comforting and homely. Casper gingerly lowered his swollen skull to the pillow and winced, but soon the pain softened and his eyes drooped shut.

  Three days had passed since the sword was recovered and everything had slipped back to normal. The morning after the ball a shiny new police car marked ‘High Kobb Constabulary’ had pulled up outside the Horse and Horse, and out had stepped a smart-suited copper with polished shoes. With the help of Mitch McMassive, he bundled Lavender Blossom into the back and sped away, leaving no trace but the smell of diesel fumes and a self-important grin on Mitch’s tiny face.

  Julius had spent the last three days tinkering away in his brand-new restaurant in the space left by Blossom’s Bloomers, measuring gaps for ovens and sharpening his knives. Meanwhile across the square the funny little Frenchman was furnishing his own shop in the burnt-out plot where Julius’s old restaurant had once stood (before the explosion). Julius didn’t understand a word of French and the man, René, refused to speak in English, but they’d struck up an unlikely friendship anyway after Julius lent René a hammer. Now they’d sit in the square together during tea breaks, recounting stories in their own languages and laughing heartily.

  Since Julius was as busy as he’d ever been, and Amanda was busy with Cuddles (and her three new fangs), Casper was free to spend the dying days of summer with Lamp.

  “Caught anything yet?” Lamp lay on his belly, squinting into the cool water of the River Kobb.

  “I don’t think it’s working.” Casper wiggled the rod, but it didn’t feel any heavier.

  “Maybe change the channel.”

  Casper prodded a button on the remote control taped to the reel and the little screen on the end of the line flicked from a soap opera to a football match. “This won’t work, Lamp. Fish don’t like football.”

  “Why not?”

  “They don’t have feet.”

  “Try another channel. Swimming or something.”

  Casper silently hopped through the channels, hoping a fish would come and take a seat soon before his arm dropped off.

  “I miss Daisy,” said Lamp.

  “I know. Me too.”

  “And Albert. Where do you think they are now?” Lamp rolled on to his back and gazed into the sky.

  “Monaco,” said Casper, “stealing pearls from a princess’s necklace.”

  “Or France,” Lamp grinned, “grabbing paintings from a museum while the guards are having their sandwiches.”

  “Hijacking a boat and sailing to Venice.”

  “Jumping out of a plane on the run from the police.”

  Casper sighed, taking in the peace of the balmy summer afternoon.

  “Casper?”

  “Yes?”

  Lamp scratched his sticky black hair. “Do you think love is some metaphysical phenomenon wholly irreducible to the mundanities of neuro-physiological explanations, or do you think it really can be accounted for solely by the mechanistic relational properties of the brain?”

  Casper’s mouth fell open. The rod slipped from his hands and plopped into the river. He stared at his friend. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  More adventures with

  CASPER CANDLEWACKS

  Casper Candlewacks in Death by Pigeon!

  Copyright

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2012 HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, 77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

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  CASPER CANDLEWACKS IN THE CLAWS OF CRIME!

  Text copyright © Ivan Brett 2012

  Illustrations copyright © Hannah Shaw 2012

  Ivan Brett and Hannah Shaw assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.

  ISBN 978-0-00-741157-3

  EPub Edition © JANUARY 2012 ISBN: 9780007411580

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