Frognapped (4 page)

I
t is amazing that only one of us fell to pieces on the way to the beach.

Wanda spent the whole time moaning that she was going to be sick and I bumped my head hundreds of times, but a good detective is always on duty and I made sure I kept looking out the window when we passed Old Morris's mushroom farm. It was a good thing I did because there were tons of clues just
hanging around outside, waiting for a good detective to find them.

First: There was Nurse Watkins's bike leaning against the gate.

Second: There was Old Morris. He was carrying a large red bucket that looked suspiciously like it was full of frogs. Okay, I couldn't actually see any frogs because at that very moment Brenda went around a corner on two wheels, Aunt Tabby screamed, and something rattly happened to Sir Horace.

Third: The sign outside the mushroom farm no longer said:

Now it said:

Fourth: Guess what the exclamation marks were? Yep, frogs—five jumping frogs. And how many frogs does Barry have? That's right.
Five
.

I was just about to explain all this to my sidekick—who was at the time underneath a pile of beach towels—when the van screeched to a halt and my sidekick landed on top of me. We had arrived at the beach parking lot.

Aunt Tabby threw open the door to the back of the van and peered in. She looked pale and her glasses were falling off her nose. She was not in a good mood.

“How on earth,” she snapped, “did Sir Horace get in
here
?”

“Araminta
made
him get in,” said Wanda. “He didn't want to.”

“I did not,” I said. “And yes he
did
. So there.”

Wanda snorted in what she thought was a disdainful way but that only made her sound like a pig. You may wonder why Sir Horace did not say anything, but that was because due to Brenda's driving, his head had fallen off.

I fished his head out from underneath the beach umbrella and put it back on for him. I am quite good at putting Sir Horace's head on
now; if you get it right it goes back with a little click. I listened for the click but nothing happened, so I just squashed it down a bit more and tightened up the bolts on his shoulders.

“Better now?” I asked him.

Sir Horace groaned.
“No,”
he said.
“Headache.”

“Let me do it,” said Wanda, pushing in. Without even asking, she pulled Sir Horace's head off—which is very rude, as you should always ask someone first before you pull their head off. Then she put his head back and it went on with a little click. Huh.

“Better now?” asked Miss Smugpants.

“Perfect,”
said Sir Horace.

“Sir Horace will have to stay here,” Aunt Tabby said, as she pulled out all the beach
clutter from the back of the van. “He can't come to the beach.”

“I have no desire whatsoever to venture onto the sands, Tabitha,”
boomed Sir Horace.
“Rust is a terrible thing.”

Aunt Tabby loaded Brenda and Wanda up with all the stuff and watched them stagger off to the beach. Then she slammed the van door shut. Sir Horace peered out of the window—how was he going to get out of the van now?

“Come on, Araminta,” said Aunt Tabby briskly. “Leave Sir Horace in peace.” She set off across the parking lot. “Come
on
, Araminta!”

I slowly followed Aunt Tabby, and when she had climbed down the steps onto the beach and taken her shoes off I suddenly said, “Oh shoot! I forgot my hanky, Aunt Tabby. I shall have to go back to the van and get it.”

“No need, I've got some tissues,” she said.

“But it's my special hanky,” I said.

“What special hanky?” asked Aunt Tabby
suspiciously. “You don't have a special hanky, Araminta.”

“I do. It's
so
special that you don't know about it.”

Aunt Tabby sighed. “Well, hurry up then. And come straight over to the umbrella.” She pointed to a large striped umbrella near the water, which seemed to have eaten Brenda and Wanda except for their legs.

I rushed back to the van and pulled open the doors. I don't think Sir Horace was that pleased to see me. In fact I think he was asleep.

“Come on, Sir Horace,” I said. “I need your help. Remember?”

“Oh. Ah.”
Sir Horace groaned. He heaved himself out of the van and very carefully stood up. As he did I heard something rattle
inside him, all the way down from his head to his foot.

“Do you want me to get that out for you?” I asked Sir Horace.

“Get what out, Miss Spookie?”

“That rattly thing.”

Sir Horace shook his right foot and it clattered like an old tin can tied to the back of a bike.
“No thank you, Miss Spookie,”
he said.
“I shall be needing it.”

I didn't get to ask him what it was, as a few little kids who had just got out of a car nearby had gathered around, staring and pointing, so I had to make my gibbering monster face at them. They ran off screaming.

Morris's Water Wonderland was not far from the beach. You just had to walk down a small sandy lane, but it was a long way for an
old ghost in battered armor who was making an awful rattling noise. I wanted to make sure the old ghost got there all right, so I decided that Aunt Tabby would have to wait. “Come on, Sir Horace,” I said. “I'll show you the way.”

We set off noisily. Sir Horace made a loud clanking noise as he walked, and every time he kicked his left leg up he kicked up a shower of sand, too. It was
clank-clank thud, clank-clank thud
, and then
clank-clank thud
ping
. I picked up a small spring that had shot off from somewhere and put it in my pocket. Nothing important fell off Sir Horace so I figured he didn't need it right then.

We were heading down the lane when I heard someone calling, “Araminta!
Araminta
!” It was Wanda, and she was as red as a beet from running.

“Tell Aunt Tabby I'll be back in a minute,” I said, peeved.

“Never mind Aunt Tabby,” she said, puffing. “I want to know what you are doing with Sir Horace. You are up to something and you haven't told me. That's
not fair
.”

“I have been following clues,” I told her. “I am on the trail of Barry's frogs, unlike you, who seem to have forgotten all about them.”

“I have
not
,” said Wanda. “I am looking for them on the beach.”

I sighed. “You won't find them there, Wanda. Nurse Watkins has frognapped them.”

“No she hasn't. They weren't in her bag. The only thing you found in the bag was a—”

“Stoppit, Wanda. There is no need to remind me. Now look over there.”

“Where?”

“The gate to the mushroom farm. What do you see outside?”

Wanda squinted. If you ask me she needs glasses. “A bike?”

“Not just any old bike, is it?”

“Isn't it?”

“It's Nurse Watkins's bike.”

“Well, yes. But she said she was going there. We
know
that.”

“But why is she going there, Wanda? What is her
motive
?”

“I dunno. Maybe Old Morris has a boil, too.”

“Wanda, I told you not to remind me…. Anyway, I'll tell you why she is there. Because she is in league with old Morris.”

Wanda gasped. “How do you know?”

“When you were snoozing underneath the beach towels I kept a lookout. That is why I am chief detective and you are not. You will see how I know in a minute.”

We kept on walking—or lurching, in the case of Sir Horace—and soon we got to the gate. “Look at the sign, Wanda,” I said, and I pointed to the five frog exclamation marks. Wanda gasped again.

Old Morris FitzMaurice, who is a thin, stringy man with a long greasy ponytail, had come into view—and he was still carrying the red bucket.

“What is it you wish me to do, Miss Spookie?”
Sir Horace rattled.
“Shall I cut his head off for you? Boil him in oil? Or merely take him prisoner?”

“Oh! Um, no thank you, Sir Horace. Although it is very nice of you to offer. I would just like you to rescue the frogs. I think they are in the bucket.”

But Old Morris had seen us. “Hey!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”

He put down the bucket and stomped over. “Tickets go on sale this afternoon,” he growled. “No unaccompanied kids and no scrap metal. You can come back then. Now stop staring at me like a couple of demented goldfish and scram.”

I nodded and smiled. I was playing for time, which is a ploy that all detectives use
when they are in a tight spot and the suspect looks threatening. Even though he was thin and stringy, close up he looked quite strong. Then I noticed his right big toe was bandaged and sticking out of his sandal.

“Do you play soccer?” I asked him politely. It is always a good idea to gain your suspect's trust and lull him into a false sense of security. Then eventually he will end up telling you everything you need to know, right down to why he did it and how sorry he is and what a great detective you are for finding him out.

“Are you trying to be funny or what?” he snapped. “Got bit by a turtle, if you really want to know.”

I could see I was gaining his trust, so I went in with what is called a leading question. “Frogs can give you a nasty bite too, can't
they?” I said, very sympathetically. “Are you sure it wasn't a frog?”

It was an important moment. I stared at Old Morris, waiting for the giveaway guilty look, but I couldn't see it. He had a strange expression on his face—it reminded me of the one Aunt Tabby has when she gets really upset but tries not to show it.

But I waited patiently and did not stop staring in case I missed a flicker of guilt. Old Morris was about to say something—and I was sure all would be revealed—when my dim-witted sidekick piped up, “What's in your bucket?”