no tie-clip.’
‘No tie-clip,’ confirmed Blacker.
‘You don’t suppose Nileston swallowed it?’ suggested Ruby.
‘I would say impossible,’ said Blacker. ‘If the kid ate it then he would be in the ER right now, same goes for the dog, I imagine – anyway, it doesn’t explain the open window nor the unlocked door.’
‘Unless this is an insurance scam,’ said Froghorn, who had stepped out of the Frog Pod with a file which he handed to Blacker. ‘They could be faking a burglary – maybe they need the money.’
‘They are living on Avenue Walk in the Warrington Apartments, why would they need money?’ said Ruby.
‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ said Blacker. ‘Never take anything at face value. It’s certainly worth checking out the Thompsons’ bank credit.’
‘We’ll get someone on to it,’ said Froghorn. ‘They can check the Thompsons’ financial position, see if they are in debt.’
‘If they were in debt they would hardly just report one valuable missing,’ said Ruby.
‘Exactly, which is why we are also investigating the more than likely angle that Mr Thompson simply mislaid the tie-clip, left the window open and forgot to lock the front door when he came home,’ said Blacker. ‘However, the police are convinced it’s a copycat burglar. Either way, there’s not much we can do without that card.’
‘What are the Thompsons doing while all this goes on?’ asked Ruby.
‘They’re spending a few days out of town,’ said Blacker. ‘Mrs Thompson doesn’t feel safe knowing anyone can just crawl in the window whenever they feel like it.’
When Ruby got home the main house phone was ringing. She answered, ‘Dentures dental service, you got tooth decay, we got pliers.’
‘Excuse me?’ said the voice of Elaine Lemon. ‘I was trying to get hold of Ruby, Ruby Redfort?’
‘I can’t help you there, lady,’
‘Are you sure? I wanted to offer her some babysitting at his little birthday party, she adores my baby boy, Archie.’
‘That sounds unlikely.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘What I’m saying is, you dialled an incorrect number.’
‘But that can’t be, the Redfort number is programmed into my speed dial.’
‘Look, Cookie, unless you got some kind of toothy emergency, I’m going to have to ask you to clear the line.’
Mrs Lemon hung up and Ruby switched the phone so it went direct to answer machine.
Mrs Digby peered around the kitchen door. ‘Child,’ she said, ‘I’m sure the king of mischief himself could learn a thing or two from you.’
It was just as Ruby was changing into her nightwear, an over-sized T-shirt with superhero written across the front, that Archie Lemon’s face popped into her head.
Why? she wondered. What are you trying to tell me, brain?
Somewhere deep inside her mind a thought was trying to connect with another thought. When Ruby was very small she had sometimes liked to imagine that there was a tiny person, a little file clerk in her head, filing facts and sifting through ideas, collecting up stray thoughts and joining them all together. When she was struggling to remember something, she would imagine this little figure going off to search for it in one of the many filing drawers.
She hoped the tiny clerk might return with something soon.
She went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Then she washed her face, examined her newly mended arm, and her recently injured foot – the scar was almost gone. She massaged it with some baby oil that Mrs Digby had bought for the purpose, and then suddenly there it was: the brain clerk had found what she needed – Archie Lemon and Nileston Thompson.
Both babies, both crawlers, both grabbers.
The tie was in the dog bowl because Nileston had put it there. The tie should have been where Mr Thompson had left it, which was most likely not in the closet as he had claimed, but on the floor of Nileston’s room. Therefore the card would have been left on the floor on top of the tie.
Nileston must have grabbed the card when he grabbed the tie, so where it was now was anyone’s guess. It was only a theory of course, she couldn’t prove it. . . at least not unless she went over there and searched the place. Of course she could wait until dawn, she could call someone right now, tell them her theory, but she felt the need to do it herself. It was her theory after all.
She wondered what Hitch would say, and decided it was probably best not to imagine.
Ruby changed into her climb gear: black clothes, free-climbing shoes, climbing gloves and a pouch of chalk dust belted around her waist. She took off her glasses and switched to contacts, clipped her hair in place with her barrette and found a warm woollen hat – it was bound to get a little chilly thirty-seven storeys up. She decided she would take the same route the window thief had taken, figure out how he did it, and at the same time avoid the security guard sitting outside the apartment door – she was pretty sure there would be a security guard and she just hoped he wasn’t authorised to use the Thompsons’ bathroom.
She took a deep breath. She was going to climb the outside of an apartment block.
A little voice in the back of her mind said, This is exactly the kind of dangerous stunt Hitch was warning you about. If he finds out you might as well wave bye bye to Spectrum.
Ah shut up, little voice, thought Ruby.
IT TOOK RUBY APPROXIMATELY TWENTY-THREE MINUTES to reach the Warrington Apartments on Avenue Walk. When she got there she found a place to hide her skateboard, behind a low stone wall to the side of the building, then looked for the easiest way to make her ascent without being spotted.
It wasn’t exactly an easy climb and even as she hauled herself up the outside of the building, she tried not to dwell on the possible challenges to come, not least how she was going to bluff it if the security guard decided to pop into the apartment and have a check around. The wind was howling outside the Warrington, fluttering her hair, and it hampered her progress; on the other hand it meant everyone had their shades drawn and no one would hear her.
Arriving at the thirty-seventh floor, she looked down at the teeny cars and the few tiny night-time sidewalk walkers below. The air was a little on the chilly side and she had to admit she wasn’t exactly comfortable, but nor was she fearful. She felt sort of in her element crouching there on that windowsill. She hoped it was the baby’s room she was peering into – give it a go, she thought, and she set about opening the window, using the laser-cutting device on her Escape Watch, she was in in a matter of minutes. She landed softly on carpeted floor.
