There was a yellow drawing pin nearby. Art wondered if that was a robbery.
‘Okay son,’ the police officer was back. ‘Serge said just this once. Pin it over with the community notices.’
‘Thanks,’ said Art. ‘What do the yellow pins mean?’
‘Hot burgs.’
Art didn’t understand. ‘Like Mc Donald’s hamburgers?’
The police officer laughed again. ‘No. A ‘hot burg’ is a burglary where the owners are in the house.’
‘Is it a ‘cold burg’ when no one’s home?’ asked Art.
‘That’s right son. Now off you go.’
Hurrying down the steps of the police station, Art noticed the police cars parked with blue lights which were not flashing. Was a police car ever booked for parking in the wrong place? His dad’s truck had been booked a few times. Mum said it was Dad’s own fault.
Also Mum wouldn’t be happy to hear there had been a ‘hot burg’ near their street. She was always telling him to lock his window or remember his key.
Out the back of Art’s place was a shed. Inside were lots of paint pots. When he was home, Art’s dad painted walls and doors in their house. But usually he was away interstate, driving his truck.
‘Ah. I thought there was some left,’ said Art as he used a screw driver to open the lid on the rusty tin. Inside was a dull gold skin of old paint. Before he packed up his new school bag for the first day back, there was something he needed to paint.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
