Money Bags

by Leanne Davidson

  She smiled as her gaze fell upon a vase filled with flowers. Swiftly she grabbed it, dumped the flowers, and was about to tiptoe back towards the doorway when she spotted something else. Stress balls. Of all things! Two of them sat on a small table near the lounge. So she grabbed them too.

  She had a plan.

  She only hoped it worked!

  ‘We’re going to do something different tonight, folks!’ beams Ken into the camera, and he looks over at me. ‘Instead of spinning up the contestant’s Money Bag at the end of the show, I’m going to let Ted spin it up right now. How’s that sound, Ted?’

  ‘Sounds great, Ken,’ I say as enthusiastically as I can.

  ‘Okay then, Ted, you know what to do. Give the Big Wheel a spin!’

  So I press the button and the wheel begins to spin.

  It seems to spin forever before finally coming to a halt on a Money Bag. The camera zooms to a close-up, and the Money Bag disappears to reveal three thousand five hundred dollars.

  The audience erupts into raucous applause.

  ‘Well it’s not the ten thousand dollars, Ted,’ says Ken, ‘but three and a half thousand dollars is nothing to sneeze at. It will come in very handy, I’m sure.’

  He reaches over to shake my hand. I am just about to take his hand, when I suddenly smell smoke, and seconds later the fire alarm shrills, drowning out everything else. The power dies, and the studio is plunged into darkness, causing instant panic.

  Screams erupt from the audience and in a matter of seconds the place is chaos, as people run, screaming, for the doors.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I hear Ken ask the production crew, but nobody knows.

  ‘Fire?’ someone suggests tentatively.

  ‘Oh … my … God!’ he shrieks, and runs for dear life.

  Suddenly, the sprinkler system bursts into action, dousing everything.

  I run too. But I’m not interested in escaping. That is the furthest thing from my mind. I have more important things to do.

  Like finding Ted and Mrs Dimple.

  I check the Green Room. But it’s empty. It’s then that I realise some sort of emergency lighting has been turned on, because everything is bathed in a soft yellow glow. There is no one remotely resembling Ted anywhere.

  I check the foyer. But it is a madhouse, with people pushing and chattering excitedly, enjoying the excitement now they’re out of the studio and know they’re going to escape safely. Trying to find Ted and Mrs Dimple is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. It’s almost impossible.

  I hear fire engines outside, then firemen push through the crowd, dragging huge hoses with them.

  Now I am really starting to worry. What if Ted gets trapped by the fire? What if he … No! I can’t think negative thoughts. Now is not the time.

  What could have happened to him? Ted can do some crazy things, and if he was really nervous he might have run away, but …

  Suddenly I have a terrible thought. What if Ted didn’t run away. What if he was dragged away? Kidnapped? What if someone lured him from the Green Room and whisked him away?

  But who would do that?

  Then I gulp, as two words suddenly come to mind.

  Prescott Heath.

  CHAPTER 30

  I have looked everywhere there is to look, but there is no sign of Ted. Or Mrs Dimple.

  They have disappeared into thin air. So have Crofty and Harriet, for that matter.

  The firemen are inside the studio now, doing what firemen do. But I haven’t sighted a spark yet, let alone smoke or flame. I wonder where the fire is?

  I am just about to stick my head back into the studio for one last look when I notice a corridor that any normal person probably wouldn’t even notice, unless they were on the lookout for a best mate and his mother.

  I don’t know where it leads. But I don’t care. It is the only place I haven’t looked.

  I head straight for it.

  At first it looks like a dead-end, and my heart sinks. But then I notice a railing, leading to some steps, and then a door. And I race towards it.

  I quickly pull it open and suddenly find myself in one of the lower levels of the studio. Unlike the pandemonium on the floor above, in here it is quiet. Eerily so. And I am on full alert. Just in case.

  I move quickly along the corridor, checking each room as I pass. They are all in darkness.

  I am about to check out yet another room, when a persistent banging catches my attention. It is coming from somewhere up ahead. Maybe it’s the firemen breaking down a door.

  Suddenly the banging stops, and the place is bathed in silence again.

  But for some reason I feel uneasy; as if I’m not alone.

  What was that? My heart thumps wildly in my chest and I stand rooted to the spot, unable to move.

  And that’s when someone grabs my arm, covers my mouth and yanks me into the darkness.

  ‘Harriet, you scared the heck out of me!’ I whisper once she’s taken her hand away. But Harriet’s friendly face is a welcome sight. ‘What are you doing here? And where’s Crofty?’

  ‘Prescott Heath’s got him,’ she says worriedly.

  ‘It figures. Somehow I should have realised he’d be involved. I knew something wasn’t right when Ted didn’t come out of the Green Room with the others. That’s when I went to the production staff and told them I was his mate, but I think as soon as they heard me mention ‘Ted Dimple,’ they just assumed I was him. I could barely concentrate the whole time, knowing Ted was missing, not to mention his mother.’

  ‘Mrs Dimple is missing too?’

  I nod.

  ‘We have to be quiet,’ whispers Harriet. ‘Prescott Heath’s just up ahead in the next corridor. I’m pretty sure he’s got Ted, too.’

  ‘I thought as much,’ I say flatly. ‘After all, he does have a motive: revenge. And that can be one mighty big motivator.’

  The banging starts up again; even louder than before.

  ‘What is that?’ asks Harriet.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I reply. ‘At first I thought it might be the firemen …’

  ‘What firemen?’ Harriet sounds startled.

  ‘Oh yeah … you wouldn’t know. The fire alarm went off in the studio, when I was still up on stage. I didn’t see any flames, though. Or smoke. The firemen are in there now. I thought it might have been them banging.’

  I can almost hear Harriet swallow nervously. ‘Are we going to be safe down here?’

  ‘As long as there are firemen doing their stuff, we’ll be fine.’

  ‘Oh, I wish that banging would stop. It’s pretty damn annoying, and it’s been going for ages. It’s almost as if …’

  ‘Of course!’ I exclaim.

  And Harriet and I look at each other with sudden realisation.

  ‘Ted!’ we say in unison.

  Prescott Heath smiled as he grabbed Crofty by the scruff of the neck and led him towards the storeroom.

  ‘Um … couldn’t we just … you know … talk about this? Mrs Gribble reckons it’s good to talk about things; get everything off your chest.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so. I know exactly what I’m doing, and I don’t need to discuss it with you.’

  Prescott Heath grabbed the keys off the hook and fumbled at the lock on the storeroom door.

  ‘You could just let me go, you know,’ suggested Crofty. ‘I promise I won’t tell anyone.’

  Prescott Heath laughed, but it wasn’t an infectious laugh. He was not interested in spreading joy. This was an evil laugh; almost a cackle. And Crofty felt a chill run through him.

  ‘Don’t play me for a fool, boy,’ said Prescott Heath savagely, ‘Because I am no fool.’

  He pulled what was left of a torn rag out of his pocket and stuffed it in Crofty’s mouth.

  He was just reaching for a length of rope when –THUD!

  Something slammed into his head.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t,’ said Harriet, a look of fierce determination on her face as she threw the o
ther stress ball with all her might, collecting Prescott Heath smack bang on the forehead.

  He barely had time to think before something big hit him. Hard. Right in the face. His nose gave way with a sickening CRACK!

  Prescott Heath stared for a moment, at nothing in particular, then fell backwards onto the floor.

  Harriet flung her fist into the air.

  ‘Yes!’ she shrieked triumphantly. ‘Girls rule!’

  ‘Hey, I was the one who threw the vase,’ Brain reminded her.

  ‘But I’m the one who hit the bullseye, twice!’

  The two of them hurried over to Crofty, pulled the rag out of his mouth and untied his wrists.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Crofty, very relieved.

  ‘No prizes for guessing where Ted is,’ said Brain, racing over to check that Prescott Heath was out cold.

  Moments later, Ted was free.

  ‘Boy am I glad to see you,’ he said with a smile.

  Prescott Heath looks awful. There’s blood everywhere. I bet he feels even worse.

  ‘Ooooooohhhh, my nose,’ he moans. ‘I think it’s broken. I need to get to a hospital.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ I tell him.

  ‘You tell him Brain,’ chips in Ted, full of newfound bravado.

  ‘I’ve got a good mind to charge you all with assault,’ snaps Prescott, but his heart isn’t in it. He’s beaten and he knows it.

  ‘What about what you did to Ted? Not to mention, Crofty,’ I remind him. ‘Imprisoning them. That’s kid-napping. And you, a former principal of a school! Tsk tsk tsk. You’re looking at a hefty fine at the very least; probably a jail term, with a bit of luck.’

  ‘Ha! It’s me with the broken nose, remember! Who’s going to believe a bunch of meddling brats?’

  ‘When they see the evidence I’ve got,’ says Crofty, holding aloft the Sonnex 2000. ‘I’ve managed to get some very nice footage of today’s action-packed events – well, everything except that last little bit showing Brain and Harriet’s impressive throwing skills. I’d hate it to fall into the wrong hands. Could make for very interesting viewing.’

  ‘Ah, but you’re forgetting one thing,’ smirks Prescott Heath. ‘You may have impressive footage, you little twerp, but it will be footage of Jeebs, you fool, thanks to my brilliant disguise! So, you see, this time I’ve won. I stopped Ted Dimple from going on Money Bags. And I stopped that ghastly school of yours from winning a cent.’

  ‘Oh, didn’t anyone tell you?’ pipes up Harriet.

  ‘Tell me what?’ asks Prescott Heath uncertainly.

  ‘You may have stopped Ted from going on Money Bags, but Brain ended up going on in his place. Almost scooped the pool.’

  ‘No! It’s not possible,’ Prescott groans.

  A loud BANG echoes along the corridor, and moments later a security guard marches into view.

  ‘What’s going on here? And who are ... they?’ he says tersely, as he points to Jeebs and Prescott Heath.

  Further along the corridor, Jeebs groans and slowly sits up, a look of confusion on his face.

  ‘Wh … where am I? And who’s that?’ he asks, surprised, as he points to his likeness sitting only centimetres away.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jeebs,’ I say. ‘You’re not going crazy. Everything’s going to be all right.’

  ‘Could somebody please tell me what’s going on?’ enquires the security guard.

  ‘Well,’ I begin, ‘this is Maxwell Jeebs. The real Maxwell Jeebs.’ Then I walk over to Prescott Heath. ‘This, on the other hand, is not.’ And I pull off the dark wig Prescott Heath is wearing. ‘This is an impostor. His name is Prescott Heath. He’s the one who started all of this.’

  ‘He started the fire?’ says Harriet, confused.

  ‘What fire?’ says Ted worriedly.

  ‘The fire’s all taken care of,’ the security guard says impatiently. ‘Nothing more than a little kid trying to set alight to someone’s coat. I’d be more worried about why you lot are down here. It’s off limits, you know.’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ I say.

  ‘A very long story,’ adds Ted.

  ‘Good,’ snaps the security guard. ‘I like stories. And yours had better be a good one.’

  We are on our way back to the studio when Mrs Dimple comes racing towards us, looking frantic.

  ‘There you are Mrs Dimple,’ I say, relieved. ‘We were just about to send a search party out for you.’

  ‘Oh Ted! Ted! You’re okay! I was so worried,’ she gushes, and throws her arms around Ted, smothering him in a loving embrace. ‘I’ve spent all this time looking for you.’

  ‘Mum, you’re embarrassing me,’ whispers Ted. ‘As you can see, I’m fine. You can let go now.’

  ‘What happened? Where were you?’

  ‘I … um … I got lost! Yes, I … I was … I was busting for a pee so I raced to the dunny and … then I got lost on my way back. It’s easy to do, you know.’

  What? Only Ted could think up something as lame as that! Jeebs and I look at each other. Crofty and Harriet try to stifle giggles.

  As for Prescott Heath, he’s confessed to everything. Stealing Mischief before Quizzical. The botched blackmail attempt that followed. Planting the Woozer lollies so I’d get the hiccups! Not to mention kidnapping Ted and holding him against his will during Money Bags. It helped that Crofty managed to video a lot of incriminating evidence.

  With a bit of prompting, and the knowledge that I had a certain piece of blood-stained material in my keeping, Prescott Heath even admitted to the graffiti, and planting the can of spray paint in our garage.

  The security guard wasted no time escorting him to the police station. With a bit of luck he’ll get what he deserves. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say!

  ‘Thank goodness you’re safe,’ says Mrs Dimple. ‘That’s all that matters.’

  ‘If it’s okay with you, Mum, I think I’d like to go home now,’ says Ted.

  Mrs Dimple smiles. ‘Home sounds good. What do you say, Brain?’

  I sigh. It has been a long day.

  ‘Home sounds really good,’ I say.

  CHAPTER 31

  ‘What is going on, Brain?’ Mum fires at me as soon as I get in the door. ‘Did you think we wouldn’t watch Money Bags? What were you doing up on stage? And what happened to Ted? Your father and I have been worried sick.’

  ‘Questions, questions, questions,’ I sigh. ‘Do we have to go into it now? I’m beat.’

  ‘Well, that’s just too bad, son,’ says Dad, in the serious tone of voice that suggests arguing the point is not an option. ‘Because you are going to sit down and tell us everything. And you’re going to do it now!’

  So I do.

  I tell them about Prescott Heath and his blackmail plot to keep me off Quizzical; and the Woozers that caused my embarrassing hiccups. I tell them about his plan for revenge, involving the graffiti, and how he even confessed to planting the can of spray paint in our garage. And I tell them that we have everything on tape as proof, thanks to Crofty’s obsession with the Sonnex 2000.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ says Mum sympathetically. ‘We’re always here for you, you know that.’

  ‘I tried to, with the ransom note, remember? Right back when this all started. You and Dad thought I’d planned it myself. And you didn’t really want to know my side of the spray paint story …’

  ‘You have to admit son, it all sounded a bit far-fetched,’ says Dad.

  ‘Gordon, that’s enough,’ hisses Mum, and she shoots Dad a filthy look. ‘We should have been there for him. We shouldn’t have just assumed things.’

  ‘You’re right I guess. We shouldn’t have. Sorry about that, son,’ Dad says, a bit sheepishly.

  ‘That’s okay. But do you mind if I go to bed, now? It’s been a very long day.’

  ‘Of course,’ says Mum, and she wraps me in a hug. ‘Goodnight, darling.’

  ‘Sleep tight, son,’ chips in Dad.

  ‘You don’t have to worry
about that,’ I tell him. ‘Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Brain Davis is going to sleep like a baby!’

  CHAPTER 32

  I am putting away the dishes on Monday evening, when Mum points frantically at the television.

  ‘Isn’t that Henry Daram, the man who’s building that Puzzle Palace place?’

  Yes! It is! It’s him! I race over and turn the volume up.

  Naturally, Dad has his head stuck in the paper. He may as well be a shop dummy sitting at the table, for all the interest he shows.

  ‘Good evening,’ says Henry Daram, as he stares into the television camera. His face takes up the whole screen.

  ‘I am Henry Daram, owner of what will soon be known as Puzzle Palace.’

  My heart skips a beat.

  ‘For all of you who entered the Choc Puffs puzzle competition, I’d like to say thank you. And I’m here today to tell you that we have found our five winners! Soon, those five lucky boys or girls will be the first to see inside Puzzle Palace!’

  ‘What?’ I shriek, hardly able to contain my excitement. ‘They already have the winners?’

  ‘Cross your fingers, Brain,’ says Mum. ‘You never know your luck.’

  I hardly dare to breathe. Who? Who are they?

  ‘And don’t think I’m going to tell you who the lucky winners are, because I’m not. That would spoil all the fun! But I will say, to those lucky boys and girls, you will know who you are soon enough.’

  I sink back into my chair, disappointment flooding through me.

  ‘Don’t worry darling, he’s only doing that for effect,’ offers Mum.

  ‘Keeps ’em guessing,’ chips in Dad, his head still buried in the paper. ‘And he gets to have his face on the telly at the same time. The perfect advertisement for a product.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I don’t think he needs any help, judging by the total lack of Choc Puffs boxes in all the supermarkets.’