The Mystery of Miss King

by Margaret Ryan

  “Of course,” I nodded. “Have a good trip.”

  “I’ll send you a postcard,” he said, and got into the taxi. It was only when it had disappeared down the hill that I wished I’d asked Dr Sphinx if he knew anything about Miss King.

  I carried on with my round, but when I got to number 57 and tried to put the magazine through the snappy letter box, it wouldn’t fit.

  “Oh no,” I said. “Not again!” There was nothing for it. I’d have to knock on the door.

  I banged the knocker.

  No reply.

  I thought about taking the magazine back to the shop, but then I’d still have to deliver it tomorrow.

  Then I had another thought. Perhaps I could leave it on the window ledge, weighed down by the Viking gods.

  I went over to the compost heap. “Excuse me,” I said, picking them up, “but I need you to guard something else today.”

  I put the magazine on the ledge and sat the stone gods on top. “You can look in the window, if you like,” I said, and turned them round.

  I wish I hadn’t, for there, grinning at us from the top of the TV, was a human skull…

  “Aaaargh!” I yelled and bolted down the path. It was getting to be quite a habit. I suppose I must have finished the rest of my round, but I don’t really remember. I just know that when I got back to Mr Maini’s my bag was empty.

  “What’s wrong, Jonny?” said Mr Maini. “You look upset.”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, backing out of the shop. “Just got some things on my mind.”

  I must be sensible, I must be sensible, I kept repeating. Dad’s sure to be right. There are no missing persons from around here. The skull’s probably a theatrical prop or maybe a plastic one from a joke shop. The trouble was, it didn’t look plastic. It looked only too real. Those staring eyes. Those tombstone teeth…

  “But you can’t tell anyone about it,” I said out loud, as I pedalled to school. “Or they’ll really think you’re nuts. Just try to do as Dad says and concentrate on Saturday’s game.”

  Chapter Five

  So I did. I tried to put it all out of my mind and for the next couple of days luckily there were no more magazines to deliver. I just stuck Miss King’s paper through her letter box and hurried away as fast as I could.

  Finally, Saturday arrived and the long-awaited inter-schools’ football final. I was really nervous; so were the rest of the team. Only Mr McGregor was calm.

  “Just do your best, lads,” he told us in the dressing room. “Remember all I’ve taught you and you’ll be fine. And, Smith, you keep your eye on the ball. Don’t let your mind wander.”

  “OK,” I said. If only he knew!

  We started off well, with Peter Ho scoring the first goal. Our supporters, which included Captain Cross-eyed and Mr Tipp, cheered, but then the other team scored, and their supporters cheered. That happened again and it was 2–2. I knew Mum and Dad and Ellie, my little sister, were on the touchline, but I was determined to stay focussed, and I tried not to look at them.

  At last, the referee blew his whistle for half-time and we trooped back to the dressing room.

  Mr McGregor spoke. “You’re doing fine, lads,” he said. “But we need that extra push. Dig deep and give it all you’ve got.”

  We nodded and ran back out onto the field, determined to play our socks off. And we did. But the other team were good. Very good. We were getting tired and struggling to hold on.

  The referee looked at his watch and I heard Mr McGregor yell, “Come on, lads, just one minute to go!”

  Then it happened. I’m not sure how, but suddenly the ball was at my feet and I had a clear sight of the goal. I let fly and really connected with the ball. It soared into the air, over the heads of the other players and hit the side of the post. I held my breath. The ball bounced in.

  All our supporters yelled and jumped into the air. Mr Tipp jumped higher than everyone else, so I guess he must have been wearing his bouncing wellies, and Captain Cross-eyed tossed up his pirate hat. My dad couldn’t jump with his broken leg, so he waved his crutch instead.

  The final whistle blew. All our hours of practice had paid off. We had won the inter-schools’ football championship! I could hardly believe it. Neither could Mr McGregor. He couldn’t stop grinning. “Well done, lads,” he kept saying. “Well done. I knew you could do it.”

  Mrs Bone from the council presented each of us with a medal, then we did a lap of honour with the cup. It felt great, and somehow we weren’t tired any more. After that, Mr McGregor took the whole team out for a pizza to celebrate. I had mine with extra pepperoni and cheese, then washed it down with lots of Coke.

  When I got home, Mum gave me a big hug and Dad congratulated me and showed me the pictures he’d taken of the game.

  “Great goal, Jonny,” he smiled. “You saw your chance and took it. You’ve got a really useful right foot there. Keep practising with it.” And he ruffled my hair.

  I could tell he was pleased.

  Chapter Six

  I got up extra early on Monday morning. Mr McGregor had promised we could take the cup round the school to show it off, and I didn’t want to miss any of that.

  I delivered my papers as fast as I could. When I got to Miss King’s, the house was silent. There was no sign of Miss King or her dog, and I wasn’t going anywhere near the shed! But one thing was different – there was a large hole in the middle of the front lawn.

  “That’s odd,” I muttered. “Everything’s usually so neat and tidy. Perhaps she’s rearranging the garden… Or burying something,” I added.

  But I was supposed to be being sensible, so I pushed that thought away.

  The team had a great time going round all the classes, holding the cup above our heads and listening to the cheers. It was ages before we got back to our desks.

  “There you are at last,” said Miss Dodds. “I’m very pleased you won the inter-schools’ football championship, but now the contest is over, maybe we can get some proper work done around here.”

  We tried, but it wasn’t easy. Everyone was too excited. A reporter came round to interview the team and we had our photo in the local paper. Mr McGregor cut it out and pinned it up on the school notice board.

  Things were quieter after that. Quite flat, really, with no football practice and nothing else to look forward to. Miss Dodds made us work really hard and we were getting a bit fed up.

  “We could do with some of your fantastic stories to cheer us up, Jonny,” said Surinder. “What’s been happening in Weird Street?”

  I took a deep breath. Did I want to bring it up all over again? Should I say something, or not?

  “Nothing much has been going on…” I began. “Dr Sphinx has gone to help excavate an Egyptian tomb, Captain Cross-eyed is busy painting the pirate ship in the park, and Mr Tipp is inventing something that produces lots of purple smoke. So I haven’t seen much of them.” Actually, it would have been good to find out what they knew about the mysterious Miss King.

  “So it’s all quite normal then,” Surinder sounded disappointed.

  “Yes, unless…”

  “Unless what?” Sara’s eyes gleamed.

  “Unless you count the skull I saw in Miss King’s sitting room and the large holes that have started appearing in her front garden. First there was only one, but now they’re all over the place.”

  “Skull?” said Sara. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

  I shrugged. “I was fed up of no one believing me.”

  “Maybe the holes are for new flower beds,” said Surinder.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Some workmen may be putting in a pipe, or something,” said Sara.

  “Possibly. It’s just…”

  “What?”

  “It’s such a mess. Miss King is so neat and tidy. I don’t think anyone would dare leave her garden in that state.”

  “Maybe something is going on,” said Sara, thoughtfully. “Maybe you did see a mysterious foot and a
strange bone and a skull, after all…”

  “Maybe it needs to be investigated,” said Surinder. “Maybe the holes are to bury some body parts…”

  “Oh no,” I said. “I’m not starting that again. I got a telling-off from my dad the last time I mentioned it. And I haven’t seen any more bits of body.”

  “Probably because you haven’t looked,” said Sara.

  “Too scared, I bet,” said Surinder.

  That made me cross, so the next morning when I got to number 57, I took a deep breath and had a quick look in the holes.

  They were all empty.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and started to push the paper into Miss King’s letter box. But some post was stuck in there already. I bent down to poke through a large envelope and saw into the hall. It was empty, but something strange caught my eye. I gasped. My throat went dry and my knees turned to jelly. I didn’t see any body parts, but hanging on the end of the banister was something long, grey and straggly. It looked to me very much like human hair…

  Chapter Seven

  I got such a fright, I wobbled and fell backwards onto the path. I was just getting up when the door opened. Miss King was standing there with Thor.

  “What about my paper?” she asked.

  Oh no, I was still holding it! I scrambled to my feet and, with a shaking hand, held out the paper.

  “Can you come a bit nearer,” said Miss King. “I don’t bite.”

  I inched closer, then I noticed she was leaning heavily on crutches. “You’ve got the same plaster as my dad!” I exclaimed.

  She looked down and sighed. “I was tackled too hard playing American football. Fell and broke my leg.”

  “American football?”

  Miss King nodded and gestured to the hall table. I didn’t go any closer, but I could see that beside the pot plant sat a football helmet with the word “Vikings” written on it. “That’s my team. But I love anything to do with Vikings. Probably because of my name, Vi King,” she laughed. “But the team will have to do without me for a while. So will the museum, though at least I can continue with some work at home.”

  “You work at the museum?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Yes. There’s to be a Viking exhibition soon and I’m making the life-sized models for it. There are bits of them all over the house and the shed at the moment. That’s Freya’s hair on the end of the banister. It will go on a real Viking skull as soon as the clay I’ve used to model the features dries out. I’ve already finished her body.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to take everything in. “I saw a bone in your bag the other day.”

  Miss King laughed again. “That was for Thor. I collected it from the butcher’s on our early-morning walk. Trouble is, Thor’s not getting his regular walks now, and he’s really bored. He’s learned how to open the front door and, a week ago, he nosed open the latch and took off.

  “I finally caught up with him in Dr Sphinx’s garden. Thor likes Dr Sphinx’s cats, but they’re not so keen on him! And now he’s making a real mess digging around in my garden. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it till my leg mends.”

  Suddenly everything became clear. The foot, the bone, the skull and the holes in the garden. Even the kind of magazines Miss King had ordered.

  I felt a bit silly about my suspicions and was really glad she didn’t know what I’d been thinking. Then I had one of my brilliant ideas. That happens to me sometimes. I think I may be an undiscovered genius.

  “I play football, too,” I said.

  “I know,” smiled Miss King. “I saw your photo in the paper. Your team won the inter-schools’ championship. Well done.”

  “Thank you. But now, after all the excitement, things are a bit dull. We’ve never played American football at school. Do you think, if I walked your dog for you, you could come and teach us?”

  “Hmm,” Miss King was thoughtful. “That’s a good idea, and I certainly know where we could borrow the necessary equipment. I’d like that, and Thor would love the walks.”

  “I’ll have to speak to Mr McGregor, our coach, but I’m sure he’ll agree. He loves any kind of sport.”

  At school, I went to see Mr McGregor right away. As I thought, he was really keen.

  “Great idea,” he said. “Ask Miss King to call me and I’ll see what we can arrange. Perhaps we could start lunchtime practices again.” Then he went off, whistling.

  I went off to my classroom, late again.

  Miss Dodds’ eyes narrowed when I arrived. “Well,” she said. “What kept you today? And I don’t want one of your usual silly stories.”

  “OK,” I said, and missed out the ‘I thought Miss King might be a body snatcher’ bit, and went straight to the ‘I went to see Mr McGregor to tell him one of the people on my paper round was interested in teaching us American football’ bit.

  Then I waited for the explosion. Too much football and not enough work! How do you expect to pass exams? Etc, etc.

  But the explosion didn’t come. Instead, Miss Dodds actually smiled. “American football? Now there’s an exciting game. I wouldn’t mind having a go at it myself. Well done, Jonny. That’s a great idea.”

  What?

  The class were stunned into complete silence. And I still haven’t got over it.

  Mr McGregor arranged to collect Miss King at lunchtimes and our coaching started right away.

  In exchange, I took Thor out for long walks along with our dog, Brutus. They were great company for each other, and Thor stopped digging holes in Miss King’s garden.

  Miss King was really pleased and insisted on giving me some money to add to my bike fund.

  “You deserve it, Jonny,” she smiled.

  I thanked her and, when I got home, I took out the rest of my savings and counted them up.

  Yippee! I’d finally done it! I’d saved enough money for my new bike.

  I went into town at the weekend to buy it. It’s bright blue and goes like the wind. I know because I rode it all the way home.

  “Will you give up your paper round now you’ve got your new bike?” asked Dad, when he’d finished admiring it. “After all, that’s what you wanted the money for.”

  “I’ve thought about that, “I said. “I don’t really like getting up early, but I’ve made some good friends on my round. So I think I’ll carry on for a while. Anyway, I’m really curious about the new person who’s moved into number 14. Yesterday, I noticed she had a bright-pink broomstick parked outside her front door…”

  First published 2009 by

  A & C Black

  Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP

  www.acblack.com

  This electronic edition published in April 2012 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  All rights reserved

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  eISBN 978 1 4081 6373 3

  A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the

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