Catch Your Death

by Lauren Child

  Ruby got her wish for peace and quiet and had had the living room all to herself for the past hour. She was happily lying on the couch, blowing bubblegum bubbles and reading several books all at the same time, and only looked up when she heard her father’s shoes.

  ‘Shucks Rube, you know how I feel about bubblegum.’

  He had picked up the scent seconds after he crossed the threshold. Brant Redfort hated bubblegum; not only did he think it vulgar, both the chewing and the bubble-blowing, but he also hated it because of the memories the smell of it evoked, one in particular.

  Once, when he was a ten-year-old kid, a boy called Mickey Durrant had cruelly rubbed Hubble-Yum into his scalp. The result was an ugly, close-cropped haircut, executed by Mrs Bell the school secretary – boy, should that woman never have been allowed to wield a pair of scissors. Just a whiff of that fake-strawberry smell and he was back there in that schoolyard, feeling frustrated and humiliated. For Brant Redfort, bubblegum represented all that was wrong with childhood.

  ‘Jeez, sorry dad, it’s Clancy’s. He left it the other evening and I just got kinda hungry studying,’ said Ruby. ‘You know, too busy to grab a snack. . . and what with Mrs Digby being out and all.’

  She handed her dad the pack like she couldn’t care less about bubblegum.

  None of this was actually true: Clancy Crew wasn’t even a small fan of the stuff – sure he chewed gum, but not bubblegum; he always found it went sort of dry after about ten minutes of chewing – no, he preferred straight chewing gum, the mintier the better.

  The reason Ruby tiptoed around the issue of bubblegum was because Brant Redfort was very determined about it and when he was determined about something he couldn’t be budged. Perhaps this was because he felt truly strongly about very little – good manners being top of his list, which was a fair enough thing to feel strongly about. The importance of saying Gesundheit when a person sneezed? Not so sensible.

  The bubblegum thing fell somewhere in between – nothing odd about not being keen on it, but slightly odd to not even allow it in the house. Ruby Redfort was a person who knew her own mind and didn’t like being pushed around; however, she was also blessed with common sense. She had a rule – RULE 42: DON’T WASTE TIME ARGUING WITH SOMEONE WHO WON’T IN A MILLION YEARS CHANGE THEIR MIND.

  Ruby took the balled-up pink out of her mouth.

  ‘So how are you planning to enjoy the vacation honey? You got ideas?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Ruby, only telling half the truth. ‘Nothing firm anyhow.’

  ‘Well, if you’re looking for adventure, you could always join Camp Wichitino. I don’t want my girl getting bored. Remember, you’re only a kid once in your life.’ He sighed. ‘Might as well have fun – live a little.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind Dad.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ said Brant, mussing his daughter’s hair, an affectionate gesture that Ruby always found irksome.

  He left the room and she heard his expensive shoes squeak as he made his way down the stairs. Ruby turned back to her books and as she did so popped the bubblegum back into her mouth.

  What she was reading was pretty interesting: it related to what she had been learning in class, concerning smell and memory. Many scientific studies had been carried out into just why smell is such a strong link to past events. Her dad’s problem with bubblegum totally fitted with the theory. The studies seemed to agree that it was to do with the fact that:

  Olfaction is different from the other senses. It is extremely old in evolutionary terms, and has more than one pathway into the brain.

  Like the other senses – taste, touch, sight and sound – it reaches the cerebral cortex via the thalamus, which regulates unconscious processes.

  But unlike the other senses, smell also has a direct projection into the limbic system, a part of the brain surrounding the thalamus and so closely associated with feelings that it is often called the ‘emotional brain’. Specifically, smell has a pathway that runs into the amygdala and the hippocampus. The amygdala is implicated in emotion and instinct. The hippocampus deals with memory and learning by association.

  In other words: smell signals directly enter parts of the brain that deal with emotion and memory. This means that they can easily arouse strong recollections of the past, along with accompanying feelings.

  The reason her father reacted so badly to the odour of bubblegum had nothing to do with the actual smell of fake strawberries, but the fact that he associated the smell of fake strawberries with something bad that had happened to him long ago, and the way it made him feel. Just a whiff of that smell triggered a memory and set him on edge.

  It was a remarkable thing when you thought about it. That Ruby, who wasn’t even on the planet when her father had endured this schoolboy mishap, could so easily take her father back in time, conjuring the same emotions he had felt when he was just ten, was kind of remarkable, and all this just by chewing bubblegum.

  Ruby didn’t hear the doorbell; she had moved up to her room so she could concentrate better on what she was studying.

  Clancy was surprised when Brant Redfort opened the front door and handed him a not quite full pack of bubblegum.

  ‘I don’t approve of this Clancy, but it’s yours to use off the premises. I hope you’ll forgive me for pointing out that it will do you no good at all. I’m sure it’s bad for the gut. Anyway, if that’s understood, then we’ll say no more about it.’ He patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’s swell to see you Clancy. I hope you’ll be joining us for supper.’

  ‘O. . . K. . .’ said Clancy a little uncertainly. ‘Is Ruby in?’

  ‘She sure is, go on up.’

  Clancy scooted upstairs as fast as he was able, knocked on the door and entered the room.

  ‘Your dad’s acting weird,’ he said.

  ‘Must be the temperature,’ said Ruby. ‘Now take a look at this.’ She took out the miniature camera Spectrum had issued her with. It was a tiny device set into a decorative fly, which was attached to a ring to be worn on the middle or ring finger of a small hand. The lens was in the fly’s eye and photographs were taken by pressing the ring band at the back of the ring with the thumb of either hand. It was very discreet and simple to use. One could point it pretty accurately at what one wanted to photograph and take pictures without arousing suspicion.

  Clancy was impressed. ‘That’s a nice piece of kit,’ he said appreciatively. ‘What are you expected to do with it?’

  ‘It’s for a stake-out at the Let Them Smell Roses launch.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Spectrum has me on stake-out duty at the Melrose Dorff perfume launch. I’m gonna be there with my folks so it makes sense for me to tag along.’

  ‘So what’s the stake-out in aid of?’ asked Clancy.

  ‘Some pretty pricey jewellery has been disappearing from the store. I’ll be nosing around while everyone’s drinking cocktails and doing the whole socialising thing.’

  ‘So what does this thief guy do?’ asked Clancy. ‘Climb up the drainpipe and in the window?’

  ‘No one has seen him and no one has worked out how he could be getting into the building,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Perhaps it’s an inside job,’ said Clancy. ‘You thought of that?’

  ‘Yeah, we have, but you see at night this kinda grille thing comes down surrounding the Katayoun & Anahita cabinets – it’s like a super huge cage, so there’s no way anyone’s gonna get inside that.’

  ‘But what’s to stop them raising it during the night? If it’s someone who works in the store, then they’d know how to raise it back up.’ Clancy was pretty sure this was how it was managed. ‘It has to be a disgruntled shop worker,’ he said.

  ‘Can’t be done,’ said Ruby. ‘It’s all automatic; as soon as the shop closes, the grille comes down; as soon as it opens, it goes up no involvement from the store security or anyone who works in the store.’

  ‘So. . .’ said Clancy. ‘With this stake-out deal, you’re trying to catch
the jewel thieves in the act?’

  ‘That’s the idea, but I don’t think it’s very likely.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ asked Clancy, pointing at what looked like a bracelet lying next to Ruby on the floor.

  ‘Very small binoculars,’ said Ruby, picking up the teeny gadget.

  ‘Cool,’ said Clancy. ‘What’s it meant to be?’

  ‘You know, a bangle,’ said Ruby, slipping it on her wrist. ‘You wear it like so,’ she demonstrated, ‘and when you want to take a closer look at something you flip this piece up’ – she was referring to the hinged gold figure of eight with its circles of decorative glass – ‘then you can rest your chin on your hand like you’re just sorta thinking when really you’re looking through a pair of binoculars.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were into jewellery,’ said Clancy.

  ‘This isn’t jewellery buster, it’s state of the art. By the way, what happened with your French exam?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘One last chance,’ said Clancy. ‘So what happened with your LB meeting?’ he asked.

  ‘One last chance,’ said Ruby, ‘maybe not even that – I wouldn’t trust LB not to change her mind, that’s why I’ve got a do well with this whole Melrose Dorff case, otherwise I reckon I’m gonna get kicked out for sure.’

  Clancy had never seen Ruby look so worried about anything: all that confidence was gone, all that Ruby Redfort cool had melted away, and suddenly she was just like him, fallible.

  He smiled as he

  smelled the fragrance

  of Turkish delight. . .

  . . .and he knew who had entered the room before he had even lifted his eyes to meet hers. ‘I’m ready,’ he said. ‘Shall we go?’

  She cocked her head to one side and said, ‘Slight change of plan.’

  He searched her face, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The thing is, I’ve been doing some research of my own; you know the City Library is full of useful information, books on every subject, every subject under the stars, amazing how much one can learn.’

  His face fell.

  ‘Who would have thought it was going to be so simple.’ She smiled. ‘Yes,’ continued Lorelei, ‘I know how to find your creature and I know how you control it too.’

  She reached into her purse and pulled out the gun. ‘Time to say búcsú, is that what you Hungarians say? I’m a little rusty I’m afraid. Anyway, no matter, however you say it, it’s goodbye and this time it’s final.’

  She extended her arm and pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  Nothing.

  She frowned and then laughed. ‘You know I really can’t be bothered to kill you tonight, I have somewhere to be and my dress isn’t ironed and goodness knows where I stored those spare bullets – no time to look.’

  She left the room, clanking the door shut behind her, her stiletto heels echoing down the corridor.

  Relief did not register on the man’s face; death was inevitable now that his secret was discovered; he had no plan B and was beyond hope, so it didn’t matter when it came.

  He gazed up at the broken skylight and then in a blink of an eye all that changed. He turned to look at the pile of metal debris in the corner of the room.

  Plan B, he thought.

  Chapter 24.

  ‘WHAT’S GOING ON WITH YOU CREW? I saw you loitering around the bike shop last night. Is it that new sales girl – you fallen in love or something?’

  ‘Cut it out Del,’ said Clancy. ‘I don’t even know what girl you’re talking about.’

  ‘It’s not the girl,’ said Mouse, ‘it’s the bike. He goes there every day, don’t you Clance?’

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Clancy.

  ‘I’ve seen you lots of times,’ said Mouse.

  Ruby and her friends were making their way to school from the bus stop, and they had stopped by the waffle stand to grab a bite before class.

  ‘Well, it must be some bike,’ said Elliot. ‘Because that salesgirl sure is pretty.’

  ‘Too pretty for you Finch,’ said Del.

  ‘What? You saying she wouldn’t go out with me?’

  ‘Not in a million,’ said Del.

  ‘So you’re saying she’d date Clancy?’

  ‘I’m saying she wouldn’t date either of you.’

  ‘That’s what you think,’ said Elliot.

  Clancy wasn’t interested in this debate; he was busy thinking about the bike and how it would never be his unless his dad grew an actual heart or he himself robbed a bank.

  ‘Never gonna happen,’ muttered Clancy.

  ‘What?’ said Ruby. ‘You still down about that blue bike?’

  ‘It’s a Windrush 2000,’ said Clancy.

  ‘Clance, you either got a stop feeling sorry for yourself and make it happen or. . .’

  ‘Or what?’ asked Clancy.

  ‘Or. . . get over it. I mean I’ll loan you my bike if you’d lighten up for twenty minutes. I’m not really riding much now my foot is all sewn up – feel free to ride it until you get a new one.’ She looked at him, his face a picture of dejection.

  ‘No offence Ruby, and that’s a real nice offer and all, but it doesn’t really compare,’ said Clancy.

  Ruby couldn’t agree with him. ‘You’re getting your head turned by looks Clance; appearances can be deceptive my friend. Take that girl at the bike store. She’s pretty, yes, but Elliot can do better.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ spluttered Del.

  ‘She’d be lucky to date Elliot: she clearly has no brain at all,’ said Ruby.

  ‘She went out with Max Cunningham for a year,’ said Elliot.

  ‘My point exactly,’ said Ruby, gurgling down the remainder of her shake. ‘A total duh.’

  The afternoon was taken up with sport – not that Ruby would be doing much. She could walk OK now she had the Bradley Baker sneakers, but the way her foot was, stitches and all, naturally she’d had to pull out of the Twinford interschool athletics. Clancy wasn’t exactly broken up about missing the chance to compete against Ruby; he couldn’t be sure that if she was running he would actually beat her, but now he didn’t have to worry about that.

  Gemma Melamare was the one real threat; sure there was Dillon Flannagon and Cassius Knole, perhaps even Ronda Lewis, but to lose to any of them would be deemed OK. They were all fast, all contenders, but Gemma was nasty. She had always looked down on Clancy and Clancy was sick of it; he had had enough of being treated like some dorky bozo. He was going to win.

  And he did win.

  He beat Gemma by a hair’s breadth, but it was enough.

  ‘Way to go Clance,’ shouted Ruby from the bleachers. He glanced over at her and saw that she was genuinely happy for him, no faking. As he looked at her smiling face, he began to wonder if he really would have beaten her had she been running. She looked so easy about it, maybe she knew she could do it, could take this small victory, his win, away from him and it didn’t matter to her because she was faster than him, better than him.

  And suddenly somehow this race won felt not quite a win.

  When Ruby returned home, she walked into the middle of an interesting conversation. The Redforts were all attending the Melrose Dorff launch and Mrs Digby had the night off. Hitch was busy shaking martinis for Brant and Sabina who were sitting on the curved sofa in the living room. They were both dressed in their finest and all ready to go.

  ‘That Mrs Beesman must have really lived a life once,’ said Brant, spearing an olive with a cocktail stick.

  ‘You think?’ said Sabina.

  He nodded as he popped the olive into his mouth. ‘Judging by the expensive jewellery she was carting around when I stepped into the office this morning.’

  ‘What are you talking about Brant? Mrs Beesman doesn’t have a cent! Well, she has a cent, but she couldn’t have anything much more than a cent and, if she has anything worth anything, she would surely sell it to get some dollars,’ said Sabina. ‘Have you seen her coat? It’s all holes. I left
one of my winter wraps on her stoop in January, but I’ve never seen her wear it – Barbara suspects Mrs Beesman made it into a cat blanket.’

  ‘Well, I’m telling you, her cat looked like it was wearing a pretty pricey-looking rock around its neck,’ said Brant, ‘and I know more than a little about jewellery, my old man having been in the business and all.’

  ‘I can’t argue with you there honey; if you say it was top dollar, I believe you.’

  ‘It has to be quality costume jewellery,’ conceded Brant, ‘but still, good antique costume jewellery can fetch a buck or two.’

  This was a strange conversation in light of everything that had been going on recently, and when Ruby made it up to her room to change she wrote it down in her yellow notebook number 624.

  Wednesday morning: Mrs Beesman’s one-eared cat spotted somewhere near Dad’s office wearing quality costume jewellery.

  She flicked back a few pages to where she had written:

  Stranger tries to grab Mrs Beesman’s cat.

  She then drew a red line across the pages to connect the two Beesman notes.

  Is there a link?

  She had no idea, of course, if there could possibly be any kind of connection between the sighting of a cat wearing a jewel on its collar and a man trying to grab the cat – for one thing, Ruby had no way of knowing if the cat had been wearing the collar at the time of the attempted cat snatch, nor did she think it was likely anyone would imagine Mrs Beesman would own anything worth stealing. But it was interesting that her father thought so.

  It had been a

  difficult climb. . .

  . . .the ladder was unstable and rusty, but he had made it and now he was free and looking down through the broken skylight at the deserted warehouse room.

  If he could just make it from the high roof, he would be OK. He could see the canal, he could see the road, the quiet suburban houses and he was going to have to take a chance. His mouth was dry; it was a long way to fall, unlikely that he would survive it.