The Mum Mystery Page 11

  I rushed back into the garage to find Dad holding the paint pot in one hand and the brush in the other. ‘Dad, why aren’t you wearing gloves?’ I wailed. ‘You’re destroying all the evidence!’

  Dad looked at me as if he didn’t have a clue what I was on about. ‘What evidence?’ he asked.

  I mean, honestly, at times like these it’s hard to believe that my dad is a real detective.

  Lizzie arrived home just as Dad was about to go and meet Matty, and since it was just going to be the two of us in the house for the next fifteen minutes, I decided now was a good time to bring out the bridal magazine Holly had given me. I went up to my room to fetch it and placed it in the centre of the coffee table in the living room, where Lizzie couldn’t fail to see it. Maybe if I just left it there for her to find herself she would feel less pressured, and more inclined to look at it, than if I actually gave it to her directly.

  I switched on the television and waited for her to join me, but unfortunately she took ages doing loads of stuff in the kitchen first. By the time she came into the room, Hercule, who had been sitting in the middle of the floor washing himself, had jumped up on to the coffee table and sat himself down right on top of the picture of the bride.

  ‘Esmie, have you finished your homework?’ Lizzie asked, sitting down beside me on the sofa. ‘You know you’re not meant to watch TV unless you have.’

  ‘I’ll do it in a minute!’ I gave Hercule a shove, but that just made him dig in his claws so that he slid off the table taking the magazine with him.

  ‘Careful, Esmie. He’ll make scratch marks!’ Lizzie exclaimed, staying put to inspect the table, rather than going to rescue the magazine from Hercule, who was now lying on his side and subjecting it to a frenzied kicking with his back feet.

  Just then the front door opened and Dad came in, followed by Matty. My brother didn’t go straight to his room, but went into the kitchen with Dad. Our father seemed a lot calmer than I’d expected, and Matty didn’t look nearly as upset either, so I guessed they must have come to some sort of truce in the car. I suddenly remembered that Jennifer had been going to meet Matty after school, and I wondered if Dad had seen her there.

  Lizzie went to join them, so I picked up the magazine and put it in her bag, which was underneath the coffee table. She couldn’t fail to see it there as the top half was sticking right out. Then I went through to the kitchen too.

  Matty was rummaging around under the sink, asking if we had any spare cloths, so I guessed he was about to go and wash the van.

  ‘We left a bucket of water out there for you, Matty,’ I told him.

  ‘Matthew still claims he had nothing to do with this,’ Dad said to Lizzie. ‘Even though I’ve told him I found that paint pot in the garage.’

  ‘Don’t you think I’d have hidden it in a less obvious place if I really had done it?’ Matthew said grumpily.

  ‘Oh, you mean like where you hid that spray-paint can?’

  My brother pulled a face, but not so that Dad could see him.

  ‘And change out of your school uniform before you go out there,’ Dad added firmly. (Whenever Matty’s done something wrong Dad always reverts to treating him like he’s about five.)

  After my brother had gone upstairs to get changed, Dad said to Lizzie, ‘I know it’s still inexcusable behaviour, but thank God he’s used paint that washes off this time.’

  ‘It wasn’t him, Dad,’ I butted in. ‘And if you’d let me finish my investigation then I’d be able to prove it.’

  ‘I don’t think we need any further examination of Robert’s van, thanks all the same, Esmie,’ Dad said. ‘Oh – and did you know Matthew was planning to meet Jennifer after school today?’ He didn’t wait for a reply, but told Lizzie, ‘Apparently they were going to walk home together. As Matthew pointed out rather hysterically in the car, if they don’t get to do that, then they won’t get to see each other for the whole time he’s grounded.’

  ‘So what did you tell him?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘I said they could walk home together from tomorrow, as long as they don’t take too long about it and we don’t get any more painting incidents.’

  ‘Well, that’s fair,’ Lizzie said, sounding relieved.

  ‘Yes – I must be getting soft in my old age.’

  They carried on talking, and I thought what a good influence Lizzie was having on Dad, and how he must have taken in what she’d said about Matthew finding it really difficult to cope with not seeing Jennifer.

  I had made myself some toast and was just spreading peanut butter on it, when Matty came downstairs and shouted from the hall that he was going out to wash the van.

  As soon as he’d shut the front door behind him Lizzie said, ‘Esmie, I really think you should make a start on your homework.’

  She obviously wanted to talk to Dad in private, so I pretended to take my toast up to my room, though instead I doubled back and stood in the hall, listening to what they were saying.

  ‘So did you manage to have a proper talk with him in the car?’ Lizzie was asking.

  ‘I tried. He says he isn’t worried about you moving in, and that the only thing he’s worried about is how he’s going to see Jennifer while he’s grounded. I told him he should have thought of that before he vandalized our neighbour’s van, and then he started getting all indignant, insisting he knows nothing about it. The school sign and Frank’s car, yes – but not Robert’s van.’

  ‘But that’s so strange,’ Lizzie said. ‘I mean, why wouldn’t he just admit to that as well? He agreed to wash the van readily enough, didn’t he?’

  ‘Well, I think he knew he had no choice as far as that was concerned.’

  ‘At least you were able to talk to him, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes, and you know, Lizzie, although I still don’t fully understand what’s going on with him, I really don’t think it has anything to do with you.’

  She sighed. ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Come on. Let’s go and sit down. Do you feel like a glass of wine?’

  I suddenly realized they were moving out of the kitchen, so I dived into the hall toilet, which we hardly ever use because it’s the size of a broom cupboard, but which provides useful cover whenever I want to eavesdrop. I stayed there until they’d gone into the living room and then I slipped out, but just as I was starting to climb the stairs I heard Dad exclaim, ‘What’s this?!’

  I rushed back to listen at the door and I soon realized he had discovered Holly’s bridal magazine.

  ‘Let me see that,’ Lizzie said, sounding surprised.

  There was a long silence and I kept my fingers crossed that they were both being totally captivated by the beautiful wedding gown on the front cover.

  But Dad didn’t say anything else until Lizzie asked in a confused voice, ‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘It’s just . . . well . . .’ Dad sounded irritated. ‘It’s just that one minute you’re worried Matthew might be twitchy just because you’re moving in with us, and the next you’re leaving wedding magazines lying around the place.’

  ‘This isn’t mine, John,’ Lizzie retorted. ‘And if you ask me, you’re the one who’s twitchy.’

  Dad sounded impatient. ‘Look, you don’t have to lie about it, OK?’

  ‘I’m not lying.’ Lizzie sounded like she was getting cross now.

  Dad didn’t answer, but I could guess only too well the sort of look he was giving her. It’s the one he always gives me and Matty when he thinks we’re not being truthful – which I’ve always imagined is exactly the same look he gives his murder suspects when he interviews them.

  Clearly I was right, because all of a sudden Lizzie snapped, ‘Don’t look at me like that, John! And don’t you dare accuse me of lying. This isn’t mine – and even if it was, I don’t expect to be interrogated about it!’

  ‘Interrogated?’

  ‘Yes! Here you are. Maybe you want to check it for fingerprints.’ And she must have thrown the magazine
at him, because there was the sound of a thud and a flutter of pages as it landed.

  I heard Lizzie walking towards the door and I quickly dived into the kitchen.

  ‘Well, if you didn’t put it there, who did?’ Dad was shouting after her as she headed for the stairs.

  ‘Take a wild guess!’ she yelled back.

  And it only took another ten seconds after that before Dad was bellowing, ‘ESMIE!’ at the top of his voice.

  When I stepped out into the hall I found Dad standing at the bottom of the stairs holding the magazine – which was now very crumpled. He whirled round when he heard me, looking surprised that I had come from the kitchen. ‘Esmie, did you put this in Lizzie’s bag?’ he asked me.

  ‘Well . . . umm . . . sort of . . . yes . . .’ I admitted.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I . . . well . . . I just thought she might like looking at the brides’ dresses. I didn’t mean to make you and Lizzie have a row, Dad. I just thought—’

  ‘I know what you thought, Esmie,’ he interrupted, but less sharply this time. He sighed. ‘Look, just go upstairs and do your homework, please.’

  Reluctantly I did as I was told and I had just reached the top of the stairs when I met Lizzie on the landing. She was carrying her overnight bag and she looked upset.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked her anxiously.

  ‘I’m going back to my own place for a couple of nights, Esmie.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Didn’t your dad just say you had to do your homework?’ she reminded me.

  I stayed where I was while she went downstairs. Dad was waiting for her in the hall and she spoke to him calmly. ‘I think we both need a bit of space tonight, John.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry—’

  ‘I need some time to think about things. And I think the children need to spend some time alone with you.’

  No, we don’t, I felt like shouting down the stairs to her. But I knew she was thinking more about Matthew than about me, so any protestations on my part would be pointless unless Matthew backed them up.

  ‘Lizzie, wait . . .’ Dad was following her through the front door now, and I felt my stomach lurch as if I might be sick.

  I raced downstairs and watched through the kitchen window as they talked together out at the car. But even though they talked for quite a long time Lizzie still didn’t come back inside with him.

  ‘Dad, I’m sorry!’ I cried as he returned to the house. ‘This is all my fault!’

  ‘No, it’s not, Esmie. Grown-ups have rows sometimes and they need time to cool off, that’s all.’

  ‘Dad, Lizzie isn’t going to dump us now, is she?’ I realized how weird that must sound, since Lizzie was going out with Dad, not me and Matthew, but I didn’t care. Lizzie was a big part of my life now, as well as Dad’s, and I reckoned I needed her just as much as he did. And I reckoned Matty did too, despite all his protests.

  Suddenly the front door opened again and we both turned towards it hopefully. But it wasn’t Lizzie – it was my brother. He was carrying a bucket of dirty water and the sleeves of his jacket were soaking wet. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Why did Lizzie drive away just now? I thought she was staying tonight.’

  ‘She’s gone back to her own flat,’ I told him. ‘You were right about her needing to keep it in case she got fed up living with us!’ And I let out a loud sob and rushed upstairs to phone Holly.

  Luckily Holly knows that if there’s one thing guaranteed to cheer me up and take my mind off my troubles, it’s a piece of detective work.

  ‘Lizzie’s obviously upset for two reasons,’ she said when I told her what had happened. ‘Firstly she thinks that Matty’s turning to crime because he can’t face having her as his stepmother, and secondly she secretly wants to get married but your dad doesn’t. So if we prove that Matty isn’t a criminal and we get your dad to propose, then everything will be all right, won’t it?’

  ‘I don’t see how we can make Dad propose,’ I said gloomily. ‘I’ve tried everything I can think of.’

  ‘Tell you what – let’s start with the other thing,’ Holly suggested. ‘Let’s start by proving Matty didn’t paint that fruit-and-veg van.’ She paused. ‘And if you like we can ask Nevada if she wants to help us.’

  I sniffed. ‘Thanks, Holly.’

  ‘Yeah, well . . . three heads are better than one, I guess.’

  So the following day I sat down with Holly and Nevada at morning break-time and Holly pulled out her notepad and pen. ‘OK,’ she said in a heading-up-the-investigation sort of voice, ‘so how are we going to do this?’

  ‘It’s elementary, my dear Watson,’ I replied. (Holly and I have a bit of a Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson thing going on at times like this, with the only trouble being that we both want to be Sherlock Holmes.) ‘Clearly the first thing we need to do is check Matthew’s alibi.’

  She frowned. ‘I thought you said he was with Jennifer.’

  ‘I know – but we’ve only got his word for it. I reckon I’d better interview Jennifer as well.’

  ‘I’ll interview Matthew then,’ Holly offered at once.

  ‘I’ve already got a full statement from him,’ I said quickly (not liking to imagine my brother’s reaction if Holly suddenly descended on him with her notepad and pen). ‘Anyway, I reckon the next person we need to interview is our chief suspect.’

  ‘You mean Ian?’ Holly sounded sceptical.

  ‘Yes. I’ll ask Jake where he lives, and then I think we should all go round to his house. I’ll go and knock on his door and the two of you can wait outside in case I need back-up.’

  Nevada was staring at me as if she thought I was mad. ‘You really think he’s going to talk to you?’

  ‘Well, it’s worth a shot. And the other thing we have to do is get a sample of his handwriting to compare it with the writing in that letter that was put through our door. Maybe you two should go through his rubbish bin while I’m distracting him with my interview.’

  ‘Yeah – like that’s really gonna happen,’ Holly said, giving me a get lost sort of look. Nevada looked relieved, and as the school bell rang to signal the end of break-time Holly glanced at her and added, ‘There is just one other thing I was wondering, Esmie. If the two of us are Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, then who’s Nevada going to be?’ She had a gleam in her eye as she spoke, as if she already knew the answer.

  It didn’t take long for me to get what she was thinking. ‘Moriarty!’ I exclaimed.

  She started to laugh. ‘It’s brilliant, isn’t it?’

  ‘But that’s just my real surname,’ Nevada said, sounding puzzled.

  ‘Moriarty was also one of the characters in the Sherlock Holmes stories,’ I explained to her quickly.

  ‘Really?’ She sounded pleased. ‘I didn’t know that. Was he a detective too then?’

  ‘No,’ Holly said, giggling. ‘He was Sherlock Holmes’s nemesis – his evil foe. Isn’t that right, Esmie?’

  I nodded. ‘It’s just kind of funny that you’ve got the same name as him.’

  But Nevada didn’t look as if she found it funny. In fact, from the way she was scowling, you’d think we had just told her that there was no place for her in our detective story at all.

  At lunchtime I phoned Jennifer on her mobile and she confirmed that Matthew had been with her after school on Monday, which was the day the van had been painted. However, there was a short window of time that wasn’t accounted for, so unfortunately Matty’s alibi wasn’t as airtight as it had first seemed. When I told Jennifer my theory about Ian setting Matty up, she didn’t seem to think it was a possibility. ‘He’s never liked Matthew, but I’m sure he’d never do anything like that.’ She didn’t have Ian’s address – or maybe she just didn’t want to give it to me – so as soon as I’d ended the call I set off to find Jake.

  I found him in the school canteen with Matthew, and when I explained why I wanted Ian’s address, Matty told him not to give it to me. ‘I don’t wan
t you getting into any trouble on my account, Esmie. Dad’s calmed down a lot since I managed to get the paint off the van. It’s easier just to let him think it was me and be done with it.’

  ‘But, Matty, that’s not the point,’ I protested. ‘If you’re innocent it’s not right that you’re taking the blame.’

  ‘Look, there’s plenty of stuff I’ve done in the past that Dad hasn’t found out about,’ he said, ‘so I reckon it all evens out in the end. Just leave it, Esmie, OK?’

  ‘I’m not leaving it,’ I said doggedly. ‘I’m going to go and see Ian and I’m going to make him tell the truth.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to wait until he gets back then,’ Jake put in. ‘He’s gone to see his dad in Manchester. He went on Monday morning.’

  I stared at him. ‘But he phoned Jennifer on Monday afternoon while Matthew was round there . . .’

  ‘So? They do have phones in Manchester, you know,’ Jake said sarcastically. ‘And haven’t you heard of mobiles?’

  ‘You’re sure he’s been in Manchester for the last two days?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course I’m sure. Why?’

  Matthew answered for me. ‘Because if Ian went to Manchester on Monday morning he can’t be the one who painted Robert’s van on Monday night.’ He turned to me and added, ‘So thanks for trying to help, Ez, but it looks like you’re on the wrong track.’

  ‘As usual,’ Jake quipped.

  I went back to Holly and Nevada in a bit of a daze, not certain what to do next. My chief suspect had a rock-solid alibi and I didn’t have a clue who else might have done it. In fact it looked horribly like I had come to a complete dead end.

  ‘If this was a detective story like the ones you get on television, the culprit would be the person you least suspect,’ Nevada said.

  ‘Yes, but Esmie’s dad always says that in real life it’s often the person you suspect most who turns out to have done it,’ Holly informed her. ‘Only sometimes it’s really hard to actually prove it. Isn’t that right, Esmie?’

  I nodded. The person I suspected most was still Ian and I was about to voice the possibility that Ian might have set up the crime but got someone else to do his dirty work for him – sort of like employing a hit-man if you didn’t want to do your own murder. But before I could say anything Nevada suddenly asked Holly if she could come round to Holly’s house with me that afternoon after school.