LITMIR.BIZ

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watched as gradually all the gauze was removed to reveal what could only be a gun-shot wound.

       Meanwhile,somewhere in themiddle of nowhere…

      Mrs Digby was crawling out of a floatation tank. She emerged in a polka dot bathing suit, somewhat dazed and disorientated, finding herself not quite in the Redfort’s spa gym. Certainly most things were familiar but at the same time everything was very, very unfamiliar. All the furniture was the same, all the objects were the same, all the art was the same, what was odd was there was no house.

      ‘Where in all heaven have the darned walls gone?’ she exclaimed.

      She appeared to be in an enormous aircraft hanger containing just about everything the Redfort’s had ever owned.

      The last thing Mrs Digby had been aware of was climbing into the floatation tank at three o’clock the previous day – she had been suffering from angry thoughts concerning her rival in the kitchen, Consuela, and thought she could do with some isolation time – or who knew what she might do.

      Sabina Redfort had had the floatation tank installed only the other month, having taken advice from her personal healer, who had persuaded her that she needed more time with herself.

       Mrs R always finds it very calming – what harm could it do? I guess it prunes the skin a little but at my age what’s a little pruning?

      Mrs Digby had thought these thoughts as she climbed in, lay down, pulled the door shut and instantly fell into a heavy sleep.

      Boy, had she slept!

      What was the day, she wondered? Better not be Tuesday, she thought, catching sight of the Redfort’s kitchen clock. If it is then I’m missing Crime Night, and I never miss Crime Night.

       Chapter 8.

      Getting Lucky

      BY DAYBREAK RUBY WAS UP, showered and pulling on her school clothes despite the fact that there was no one to nag her. Ruby was no early-bird, everyone knew that – in desperation her parents had given her an alarm clock which showed a bird pecking at a worm. It made a pleasant tweeting sound if set for any time before 7am – later than that and it made a sort of strangled squawking noise. Ruby walked into the bathroom and was surprised to see, laid out in neat piles, jeans, T-shirts, over the knee socks and other essentials. On closer inspection she saw that these garments were more than acceptable, in fact they were exactly the clothes she might have chosen herself. There was even a T-shirt printed with the words, keep it zipped.

      This could not be the work of her mother.

      She spotted a typed note next to a pair of size 3 Yellow Stripe sneakers.

      Hope you approve. Had my stylist friend Billie pick these things out for you – she’s good at that kind of thing. Hitch.

      Airhead he might be but he was certainly good at his job. Ruby moseyed downstairs to say thanks and found Hitch examining a piece of toast very closely, almost as if he were reading it.

      He looked up, startled, and immediately began to spread it with peanut butter.

      ‘Toast?’ he said.

      Not just an airhead but a weirdo too, thought Ruby.

      Today, Ruby felt like taking the bus. She made it to the stop in plenty of time, clambered aboard, and sat down, barely acknowledging her friends, Del and Mouse. The two girls tried to get her attention.

      ‘Hey Rube,’ called Del.

      Ruby didn’t even look up.

      Del looked at Mouse. ‘Was it something I said?’

      Ruby was staring at the card she’d picked up in Organic Universe and chewing furiously on her pencil – what was it she wasn’t seeing? What was there to see? Just the words Don’t call us we’ll call you and the simple decorative border – nothing to give any indication as to where the meeting would take place.

      ‘Tomorrow night at eight for eight’ was all the voice on the telephone had said.

       What am I missing?

      ‘So Ruby, I see your toe is all mended,’ said Del.

      Ruby looked down at her foot – she had forgotten all about her fake injury. ‘Oh, yeah,’ she answered.

      Mouse looked at Del and sort of widened her mouth and rolled her eyes – this was her silent way of suggesting that all was not right with Ruby Redfort. Even Clancy Crew couldn’t get any sense out of her – and when Vapona Begwell dared to suggest that Ruby’s ‘recovered’ broken toe was either a miracle or she was some cowardly faker who had chickened her way out of the basketball tournament, she barely even blinked.

      ‘Hey Redfort,’ sneered Vapona. ‘Did those burglars steal your guts along with the furniture?’

      Clancy couldn’t believe it. ‘You gonna let her get away with that Rube?’

      ‘Look, my mind’s got bigger concerns than Bugwart right now.’

      ‘Has something else happened?’ said Clancy eagerly. ‘More burglars? Something else go missing?’

      ‘As a matter of fact, yes.’

      ‘What?’ said Clancy.

      ‘Mrs Digby,’ replied Ruby

      ‘Mrs Digby?’ mouthed Clancy.

      Ruby nodded. ‘She isn’t at cousin Emily’s and she isn’t back home. We don’t know where she is.’

      Clancy’s eyes were saucers. ‘Do you know what I think? I think the butler who isn’t a butler took her.’

      ‘And why would he do that, Clance?’

      ‘So he could get her job – get her outta the way.’

      ‘My mom didn’t give him the job because Mrs Digby had gone – she didn’t even know Mrs Digby had gone when she hired him.’

      ‘Yeah well, I still think he’s some bad news,’ Clancy said firmly.

      ‘Yeah well maybe you’re right ’cause guess what? I saw his injured arm – he doesn’t know I saw it but I did and I am telling you Clance, that’s no housemaid’s elbow he is suffering from – more like Gangster’s Shoulder.’

      ‘So I was right,’ marvelled Clancy. ‘He was in a shoot out.’ His face lit up. ‘You know he’s probably on the run, hiding out at your house, stealing your stuff and selling it.’

      ‘Clance, that brain of yours never ceases to amaze.’

      But she couldn’t help thinking he might not be so far from the truth.

      Ruby pretty much sleep-walked through her morning classes, so distracted was she by the puzzle she needed to solve. And then at 2.30 during her history lesson she suddenly saw what it was she couldn’t see before.

      Mrs Schneiderman was giving a very tedious lecture about the ancient Greeks, and those students who weren’t staring out of the window were busy painting their fingernails with Wite-Out and generally working hard to keep from falling asleep. It wasn’t that anyone didn’t want to be interested, it was just that Mrs Schneiderman was one of those people who managed to make even the most interesting things sound very dull indeed. It was something to do with her delivery – she tended to ramble. Ruby was brought out of her thoughts and back into the classroom by the sound of one hundred thumbtacks falling to the floor. Ruby looked across the room and saw the ever accident prone Red Monroe frantically trying to scoop them back into their container.

      ‘Sorry, Mrs Schneiderman,’ she said. ‘They just sorta fell off my desk.’

      The tacks had rolled right across the room and a few had ended up under Clancy’s chair

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