Lori and Max

by Catherine O’Flynn

  ‘Yes, sir. That happens to my nan all the time. The other day she was sure she’d seen her green bobble hat – she has bobble hats in a range of colours – hanging in the porch, because that’s where she normally keeps it. But later on Mrs Evans brought it round, ’cos Nan had left it at her house and Nan hadn’t even noticed!’ I shake my head at the memory. ‘Nan often mislays things.’

  ‘Right. Well. Exactly, Lori. That’s what I’m talking about. Very easy to get these things muddled up. So do you think that might have happened?’

  ‘When, sir?’

  ‘With the collection money. Do you think perhaps you think you saw it yesterday morning because you normally see it there?’

  It’s only now I realise that Mr Wilson is doubting my reliability as a witness. Me! Of all people! Does he have any idea of how precise I am in my note-taking, of my attention to detail, my years of close TV cop-drama viewing? Well, no, obviously he doesn’t as it’s all top secret, but one day, when I’m an internationally famous detective, he’s going to be very embarrassed about this particular conversation. He blunders on, though, unaware of all this.

  ‘The thing is, Lori, the fact that there was no trace of the money found in anyone’s bag or desk or anywhere in the cloakroom, suggests strongly to the police that the money was taken out of school sometime before yesterday. A lot of people have been in and out of the classroom in the last few days: other children; the occasional parent; cleaners. Any one of whom might have seen Miss Casey’s keys lying around and spotted an opportunity.’

  Cleaners! Bad detectives always blame the easy suspect first – the cleaner, the maid, the butler. It’s a textbook mistake. No, I decide, this can’t go on.

  ‘Mr Wilson, the money was definitely in the collection box yesterday morning. I know this because I check the box every morning when I arrive in class.’

  ‘You know it?’

  ‘I absolutely know it, sir.’ I give him my hard-cop stare which I’ve practised in the mirror but which is unfortunately quite similar to my ‘I desperately need the toilet’ face. Mr Wilson doesn’t seem to notice anyway.

  ‘Well, Lori, I appreciate your help and, of course, it was you who noticed the money missing in the first place, so you clearly are an observant girl. I will certainly tell the police of your strong conviction that the money was there on Tuesday morning, but … I’m afraid, without concrete proof, they may have to stick to their current theory.’

  Back in the classroom, no one seems fully awake. The heating’s on full blast and I keep reading the same question on my worksheet over and over without taking it in. Suddenly Cuddles the hamster pipes up and breaks the silence. Cuddles has not been his demented self recently. He hasn’t been on his wheel, hasn’t been hurling himself against the bars of his cage, hasn’t even bitten anyone for days. Now he lets out a long, sad-sounding groan, as if he just can’t take any more. As if he hates the overwhelming heat and stupid fractions as much as I do. I almost feel sorry for him. It’s only then that I notice Miss Casey crouching by Max’s side.

  ‘Maxine, could you open your desk, please?’ she says in a very quiet voice.

  Unfortunately, Max is off somewhere in Max-world and doesn’t appear to have noticed Miss Casey’s presence. I give her a gentle nudge.

  ‘Hmm? What is it?’ Max turns to me, blinking rapidly as if I’ve just woken her.

  ‘Miss Casey wants you.’

  She looks up at the front of the class and then turns back with a grin.

  ‘She’s not there. Off on one of her Frequent Brief Disappearances, ha ha!’

  At this, Miss Casey clears her throat, making Max, who somehow still hasn’t noticed her crouched at her side, jump quite dramatically, which makes everyone sitting nearby laugh and causes the whole class to turn their attention to what was clearly intended by Miss Casey to be a strictly hush-hush operation.

  Miss Casey gives up on the soft voice and speaks normally. ‘I’m sorry if I made you jump, Max. Could you please open your desk?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Could you just lift the lid, please?’

  Max considers this for a moment. ‘Are you searching me?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid I am.’

  ‘Is this about the money? Do you think I took it?’

  ‘No, Max. I don’t think that. I very much doubt we’ll find the missing money in your desk especially as we’ve already searched all the desks once, but a certain accusation has been made, information given, anonymously, I might add, which is rather cowardly, and I hope to prove that accusation wrong.’

  Max takes this in and then looks straight at me. ‘Whatever she finds, I didn’t do it.’ Which is a mad thing to say as obviously Miss Casey’s not going to find anything. Then Max stands up and steps away from her desk. Miss Casey lifts the lid and the whole class is out of their seats, crowding around to get a good look.

  ‘All of you back to your seats!’ Miss Casey shouts. ‘You are supposed to be finishing your fractions worksheets. Anyone out of their seat will be sent to Mr Wilson.’

  Everyone groans and drags themselves back to their chairs. Everyone except Josh Ryman who, I notice, never left his.

  Miss Casey lifts the lid slowly and, of course, there’s no big pile of money sitting inside. Instead there’s a single maths textbook, a couple of exercise books and a Miss Marple paperback. Miss Casey seems quite relieved.

  ‘Well, now, just as I thought. Nothing at all out of the ordinary here.’ She moves the books from side to side as if to make a show of searching. ‘Max, you can come back to your desk now and I’m sorry we had to do this, but…’ She stops talking. Something slides from between the pages of the Miss Marple book and catches the light, glinting like a small dead fish at the bottom of the desk.

  Max looks over Miss Casey’s shoulder. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s in your desk, Maxine. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’

  ‘I haven’t got a clue. It’s not mine.’

  Miss Casey sounds sad. ‘No, it’s not yours. I know that. It’s mine. It’s the key to the padlock that went missing from my key ring.’ She’s muttering to herself now. ‘Easy to miss last time. Of course we weren’t even looking for the key. No wonder we didn’t see it.’

  Max taps Miss Casey on the shoulder to get her attention. She looks her in the eyes and speaks slowly. ‘Miss Casey, I didn’t take your key.’

  Miss Casey looks at her. ‘Maybe you didn’t, Max, but I’m afraid as it’s been found in your desk, you’re going to have to come along with me to see Mr Wilson and answer a few questions.’

  Max’s face hardens. She shrugs. ‘Suit yourself.’ And she follows Miss Casey out of the room.

  All afternoon I wait for Max to come back but she doesn’t. I keep thinking about her desk. I’m missing something, I know. A clue. A sign. I concentrate hard and try to picture in my mind exactly what I saw. A maths textbook. A couple of exercise books. The key sliding from between the pages of the novel. It’s not until I’m putting my coat on at home time that my brain fog suddenly clears and I see it. The book! I run back into the classroom and catch Miss Casey before she leaves.

  ‘Miss Casey!’

  ‘What have you forgotten?’

  ‘Imagine if you had stolen that key…’

  ‘Oh. It’s about that, is it? I’m sorry, Lori. I know you and Max are pals. This must be hard for you.’

  ‘But if you had stolen that key. What would you do with it?’

  Miss Casey sighs. ‘I don’t know, Lori. What would you do with it?’

  ‘I’d smuggle it out of school as soon as possible.’

  ‘Yes, that sounds fair enough.’

  ‘And the only way I’d keep it in school is if it was in such a safe hiding place, there was no chance that any one would ever find it or know that I had taken it.’

  ‘Again, I think that sounds about right. But often when people do things that are wrong they don’t necessarily think very clearly. They make mistakes. That’s how
the police catch them.’

  ‘The book.’

  ‘Which book?’

  ‘Miss Marple’s Final Cases – the one that the key was hidden in.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It just hit me: I only lent that to Max yesterday.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So she can’t have hidden the key in the book, because she didn’t even have the book when the robbery happened.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Miss Casey slowly. ‘But she could have put the key in the book after you’d lent it to her.’

  ‘But why would she do that? Why would she keep it at school and move it from place to place? Why would she put it in a book that she was reading – and I know she was reading it as we were talking about one of the stories at breaktime – where it could fall out at any point? That isn’t what a criminal would do. It just doesn’t add up!’

  Miss Casey smiles. ‘You’ve really thought about this, Lori. Do you know what – you sound a bit like a detective yourself!’

  Sometimes Miss Casey can be quite infuriating.

  ‘Lori, look. I know Max does not have an easy home life. I don’t know the full situation, but I can see from her school history that she has had a very unsettled time. We can sympathise and we can try to help her but we can’t, I’m afraid, allow her to steal.’

  ‘Do you think we can help? Will you try and speak to her tomorrow, Miss? Try and find out if there’s some way we could help, you know, so that she’s less … unsettled.’

  ‘Well, I would, Lori, but I’m afraid in this case, that’s not going to be possible.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, Mr Wilson needs to discuss the matter of the missing money and Max’s possible involvement with it at the next meeting of the school’s governing board. Until a decision is made, Max is suspended from school. She won’t be coming back tomorrow.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Max gets home, she finds her dad in the hallway, going through all the coats.

  ‘What you doing?’

  ‘Nothing. Just looking for my keys.’ He frowns. ‘Why are you back so early?’

  ‘I’m suspended. Where’s Mum?’

  ‘Asleep. What do you mean suspended?’

  ‘School thinks I stole some money.’

  ‘What they talking about?’

  She shrugs.

  ‘What money anyway? Dinner money?’

  ‘No. Charity money. £300.’

  He stops fiddling with the coats and looks at her.

  ‘Did you take it?’

  Max meets his eyes and he shakes his head. ‘Course not. Look, I’ve got to run like a bean. Got to see a man about a dog.’ Max notices that he’s sweating.

  ‘Dad,’ she calls after him.

  ‘Yeah.’ He’s opening the door. His hands are shaking. She wants to ask him if he’s OK. To tell him to stay home. To come and read a book about animals with her, but instead she shakes her head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Suit yourself. Later potata,’ he says and goes.

  Max’s dad is a superstitious man. He believes in black cats, four-leafed clovers, cracked mirrors and lucky horseshoes. He says that Max is his lucky charm. He always tweaks her nose for luck. And this is proof to Max of just how hopeless a case her dad really is, because it’s clear that she brings him no luck at all. She used to actively wish him bad luck, in the hope that if he lost, he’d give up gambling for good. But now she knows it doesn’t matter what he loses: TVs, cars, jewellery, houses. He always goes back.

  Max might think her dad crazy for believing that she could ever bring him luck, but she’s just as superstitious as him. She has total faith in the power of her snake charm. It’s old and heavy, solid silver with green gems for eyes. It was once her mum’s. ‘Keep it safe,’ she said when she gave it to Max, meaning: ‘Don’t let him get it.’ And Max doesn’t. She keeps it in her pocket and whenever she feels it there, she knows that she and her mum will get through it all.

  The next morning, Max is surprised to find her mum up before her. She gives Max a hug and then notices the time.

  ‘Hey, why aren’t you at school yet, Maxie?’

  Her mum’s always better in the mornings: brighter, more focussed. Max can tell a lot from her mum’s eyes. Sometimes, even when they’re open, it’s like they are closed: not really registering anything. The first time Max heard about driverless cars it made her think of her mum: moving about, lights on, but nobody really there. Today though, her eyes look different, some spark or light that makes it seem as if a real person is actually inside. Max never lies to her mum, but she can’t face telling the truth about school and risk making that spark vanish.

  ‘It’s a teacher-training day.’

  ‘Nice. Have you seen the sky this morning? Look at it! Not a cloud. Solid blue.’ She looks out of the window and then turns to Max. ‘Hey! Why don’t we go for a walk?’

  ‘You want to go out?’ Max is amazed.

  ‘Yeah. I really do. I’m sick of sitting in this place all the time. I want some air. A woman needs to breathe sometimes, you know.’

  Max smiles. ‘We could go feed the ducks in the park.’

  ‘Ducks! Man, when was the last time I saw some ducks? Not since you were a crazy little chubby thing, chasing them with your chocolate buttons.’

  ‘Those ducks loved me.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s why they used to run away. Come on, let’s do it. But first I need some coffee and we’re out of milk. Could you run and get some?’

  ‘Sure.’ Max grabs her jacket and her backpack and heads out. She’ll buy some chocolate buttons as well, to make her mum laugh.

  Out on the street it’s a bright, crisp day. Everything looks clean and fresh, even the pavement outside Rooster Party. ‘Spring has sprung,’ thinks Max and she repeats that over and over in her head in time with her footsteps. She thinks about all the animals waking up after their long winter hibernation. Maybe that’s what her mum has been doing for the last year or two – kind of hibernating. Maybe, while she’s bright and in a good mood, Max could persuade her to go and see a doctor. It can’t be right to sleep so much.

  Max is actually skipping, when a strange woman steps in front of her.

  ‘Hey, Max! Slow down. I’ve been trying to catch up with you.’

  Max looks her up and down. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘Yes, love, I’m Julie. I’m a friend of your dad’s. Don’t you remember me?’

  Max has met lots of her dad’s gambling cronies over the years but she doesn’t recognise Julie. ‘Look, Max, your dad’s in a bit of bother. He’s asked me to come and get you. He needs your help.’

  ‘What do you mean? What kind of bother.’

  ‘Nothing serious. He just needs a favour.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he ask me himself?’

  ‘Look, love, it’s nothing to worry about. He’s just tied up with something and asked me to come and find you.’

  ‘But my mum’s waiting for me. She needs some milk.’

  ‘That’s OK. Your dad’ll ring your mum and explain. Don’t worry, it’s just a quick favour. Twenty minutes at the most.’

  Max can guess what the favour will be. Now she’s off school, he’ll have her doing all his errands. She’ll be sent to give messages and excuses to blokes he owes money to. He always tries that when things are bad. He thinks they’ll go easier on a kid than on him. Max’s instinct tells her to say no, to get back to her mum, but she knows her mum would want her to help her dad. She sighs. ‘OK, twenty minutes max.’

  They walk to a housing estate. The high-rise flats block out the sun on the ground and it doesn’t feel like spring any more. A sharp wind blows around the bottom of the flats, making Max shiver. A lot of the tower blocks are empty, awaiting demolition. Some of the houses are boarded up, too. Julie leads them to a green front door at the end of an empty-looking row of houses.

  ‘Here you go.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘Yeah, come on, your dad’s waiting.’
/>   Max hesitates. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  ‘He’s just lying low, love. You know, keeping out of certain people’s way. You know the kind of trouble he gets himself in.’

  Julie unlocks the door and lets Max in ahead of her.

  ‘He’s upstairs, love, back bedroom. Think he said he might have a nap so you’ll probably have to wake him up. You go on up. I’ve just got to grab something from the kitchen.’

  Max heads upstairs and opens a door. The room is completely dark and she squints to make out her dad. She steps inside, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

  ‘Dad?’ she calls.

  Suddenly the door bangs shut behind her and she hears a key turn in the lock.

  ‘Hey!’ She hammers on the door. ‘Open up!’

  ‘It’s alright, Max, love.’ She hears Julie’s voice. ‘You’re alright. Your dad will be with you soon. Just locking the door for your own safety.’ Max hears footsteps run down the stairs and a door slam.