the same one Mrs Burton had given him, but with his mother cut away.
Yesterday evening, Inspector Grimsby announced in an exclusive interview with the City Times that the main suspect for the bicycle shop murder was Mr Peter Smith, Pete read.
Forensic experts have confirmed that a blood-stained bicycle spanner discovered in Smith’s flat on the day of the murder was indeed the murder weapon. His fingerprints were also lifted from a whisky bottle that was found in the shop after the murder.
Inspector Grimsby said that although Smith hadn’t yet been arrested, he would be apprehended in the next twenty-four hours.
“This is nonsense! That Grimsby’s a liar. He never found a spanner in our flat!”
“Sure he’s a liar, but tell that to the court. It’s your word against that of two police officers. I think we have a slight problem here, my friend. Your dad’s going to be locked away for a very long time.”
When Pete had read the whole article, Freddy turned to page three.
“Here’s another little article that might interest you.” Again, Squeak seemed very interested.
“Homeless people get doughnuts from fairies,” Freddy read. “Yesterday Mr Samson, a homeless person who lives under a bridge on 22nd Avenue and apparently has no last name, caused a commotion when he claimed to have received doughnuts ‘from the fairies’. An emotional Mr Samson told our correspondent that a butterfly sat on his knee while he lay in the gutter. A moment later it turned into the ‘best doughnut I’ve ever tasted, with caramel and jelly bears’. After this first ‘gift from the fairies’, he saw a similar butterfly and chased it into the busy street where he caught it by jumping on the bonnet of a passing Mercedes. This butterfly also turned into a doughnut. Very soon, there was a free-for-all as other homeless people started chasing butterflies in the street, causing the worst traffic congestion in this street in years. Mr Thabo Radebe, the unhappy owner of the Mercedes, believes the people were all high on some substance. He said that butterflies cannot possibly change into doughnuts and that he plans to sue the socks off Mr Samson, the Traffic Department and the City Council for the extensive damage to his car.
“Now, is this a coincidence, or what?” asked Freddy. He frowned, and then seemed to make up his mind. “Coincidence. Someone sure has an overactive imagination.”
Pete had seen so many strange things in the last few days that he wasn’t surprised. In any case, he was too worried about his father to give this incident much thought.
“We have to find my dad before the cops do, Freddy.”
“When last did you see him?”
“Well, he didn’t come home last night. Maybe he slept in the park. He often goes there ‘to think’.”
Squeak ran up Pete’s jacket and into his pocket.
“So let’s go,” said Freddy.
At the park they separated to have a greater chance of finding Pete’s father. Pete had an advantage over Freddy, since he had his skateboard with him. After about five minutes, he found his father sitting on a bench.
He was obviously not in a good mood. “I have a headache. Go away,” he said.
“Dad, remember I told you Mr Humperdinck was murdered? Well, they say you did it, and the police are looking for you!”
Peter Smith stared at his son with blank eyes. “What?”
“Maybe you should begin by telling your son where you were between eight and two o’clock on Wednesday night, Peter old buddy.”
Inspector Grimsby’s voice made Pete jump.
“You followed me, you …PIG!” cried Pete.
“Of course! That’s what the police do. And watch your tongue, sonny. Now come on, Peter, tell me where you were on Wednesday night.”
Smith held his head in his hands. “I was drunk. I can’t remember.”
“Then I have no choice but to arrest you for the murder of one Humperdinck. You know your rights. Gripe, cuff the man.”
“Warren, do you really think I did it?” pleaded Smith.
Grimsby just smirked.
Pete felt a movement in his jacket’s top pocket. It was Squeak, trying to get his attention. The little mouse made frantic movements with his front paws. Run! The mouse was signalling him to run! Pete leaped over the park bench and was about to jump on his skateboard when Gripe’s cudgel hit him in the small of his back. He fell forward, skinning the palms of his hands on the gravel path. The constable was on him, grinding his knee into Pete’s back.
Gripe laughed. “This one’s a sport, hey, Boss? Good thing I played a bit of rugger in my day!”
Pete glanced at his father, but Smith was almost in a stupor, and hadn’t even noticed what had just happened.
“You’ll be coming with us, young man. I understand there’s no-one at home to look after you,” said Grimsby and pulled him up by his collar. Pete had no chance of escaping now: The man had a grip of steel. They were marched to the waiting police van, Pete loaded into the front and his father in the back. Pete could only hope that Freddy had seen what had happened.
When they arrived at the police station, Grimsby disappeared into an office with his father, while Pete was taken to the charge office. The officer on duty was bent on treating him like a baby.
“Hello, Peetie. A sweetie?” She pinched his cheek.
If looks could kill, Pete would have turned her into a whole graveyard. He was looking for some sort of escape route, but the gate in the doorway was kept locked by the policeman on guard.
“It’s chocolate! Sure you don’t want some?”
Pete didn’t bother to answer.
She popped some chocolate in her mouth and started to chew. “Poor thing, they say you’re going to The Home.”
Pete would rather die than go to any kind of “Home”. He had heard many stories about what happened to kids once they were put in one.
“So what are we waiting for, then?” he asked.
“Hurrah, he has a tongue! We’re waiting for the auntie from the Welfare.”
The wait proved to be a rather long one. When the “auntie from the Welfare” finally arrived, it was already late.
“I thought Mrs Murfin was coming,” said the policewoman.
“She doesn’t feel well, so they sent me.” The Welfare lady turned to Pete. “Hello.” Her smile brought sunshine into the cold charge office.
The policewoman scowled. “He’s a grumpy one. Don’t expect much conversation from him.”
“Hi,” said Pete, just to prove her wrong.
“My name is Sandra. I work for the Department of Welfare. I’m taking you to a place
