Lula Does the Hula (22 page)

But I could tell Dad didn’t mind, and that actually he was pleased I was getting the hang of the hula. I could also tell he liked Jack, and, frankly, who wouldn’t.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered as we did a tricky move to the front and then to the back.

‘For what?’

‘For turning up just at the right time. I wish you could hula with me at the luau too.’

‘Mmm.’ Jack smiled across at me, then his face turned serious. ‘I’m probably going to be filming the race, and doing interviews, and . . .’

‘Okay,’ I sighed.

‘I know, not great, but you won’t dump me, right?’ He was grinning at me, the perfect smile, and though his fringe had flopped over most of his eyes I could still see he was gazing at my lips. My stomach flipped and I lost count of the moves, turning left instead of right so that my arm spun out and caught a Hambledon boy in the sternum.

‘Oof!’ went the boy, winded, his eyes rolling.

‘I’m so sorry!’ I gasped, making a grab for him, but to no avail. He fell back hard, tumbling Alex in the process,
though she had a soft landing – only because she fell on him, obviously.

‘Raymond’s down!’ someone near the back shouted out.

Alex rolled off the boy and we both crouched over him, Dad’s music still lilting away in the background.

‘He’s not breathing,’ announced Alex, leaning close.

‘Wha–?’ gasped everyone onstage, immediately looking at me with scared and staring eyes.

Oh no. Not this again
. ‘He’s not breathing because he’s
winded
,’ I said, giving Alex a slitty-eyed look. ‘Geez. Anyone would think I’d killed him.’

Immediately, of course, a whispering started up and I just know I heard
witch girl
and
no good can come of this
and similar stuff all echoing around the hall.

Mrs Baldacci came hurrying over. ‘Raymond? Raymond? Get up. This is not a football pitch. We dancers are tough stuff.’

Raymond’s eyes flickered, he hauled in a juddery breath and I leaned back abruptly. ‘He’s coming round. Give him space, Alex. Otherwise next thing you know he’ll be needing the kiss of life and Gavin wouldn’t be happy with that.’

Alex stood hurriedly, dusting her knees and turning towards our dancing teacher. ‘He’s all right, Mrs Baldacci. He’s okay!’

‘Good! Good!’ she replied, changing course for the piano. ‘Could we take it from the beginning, please, Professor Bird?’

Professor Bird gave a her genial nod, and winked at me as I took up position next to Jack who, I have to say, had been having a fit of the giggles.

‘Oi,’ I said. ‘Stop that. You’re laughing like a girl.’

‘And you hit like a boy,’ he replied, adding, ‘Raymond’s never going to take a full breath again,’ as the two of us dissolved into silent laughter.

‘Maybe it’s for the best that you’re working at the regatta,’ I whispered. ‘You distracting me is no good for anyone.’

After hula hell, we headed straight for the Carusos’ café, though Jack had to head back to campus. The information that could not wait was only that he couldn’t see me this weekend. Siiiigh.

Tam, Arns and Mona were already there, waiting for us. Gianni came over to our table with his pen and paper at the ready, all swagger, though his smile at Tam was shy. When he saw me, he burst into song: ‘Are you lonesooooome toniiiiight! Do you –’

‘You should be ashamed!’ I retorted. ‘People our age are not supposed to know Elvis.’

‘Where is Jack?’ asked Tam.

‘Working,’ I said, ‘and he’s away again this weekend.’

‘We’ve got to go to our gran’s,’ explained Mona. ‘She’s not very well.’

We were about to commiserate, but Gianni bounced up, bearing one small plate only with an exquisite piece of something vanilla-ish on it.

‘I bring-a you most beautiful cake-a,’ said Gianni to Tam, his eyes going all soft and shiny.

‘Pukerama,’ said Alex. ‘Really.’

But she winked at Gianni as we all ordered, to make sure he didn’t spit on her cake.

‘So what’s the deal behind Parcel Brewster’s demise?’ asked Tam. ‘Who could possibly want him dead? What possible motive?’

‘Oh, pick one,’ I said. ‘Maybe Parcel saw someone abducting Emily, so he had to be taken care of. I reckon that’s it.’

‘No,’ said Alex. ‘Gav had a call from Sergeant T saying he’s definitely off the hook. That Emily is with her grandparents.’

‘Yes?’ I asked, interested. This news had not reached school.

‘Yes,’ said Alex firmly. ‘Julie Saunders found a message on voicemail last week already saying she was okay, that she was at Tide’s Up, her grandparents’ cottage.’

Mona shook her head. ‘Wow. Mum would kill me if I ever worried her like that.’

‘Well,’ replied Carrie, ‘it turns out Emily is apparently always going off somewhere.’

‘Now Parcel,’ said Alex. ‘Maybe he saw the poisoning. Maybe that’s why he was done away with.’

‘We don’t know there was poisoning up there,’ said Tam.

We all looked at our friend in stunned amazement.

Alex was the first to speak. ‘Tam! Where have you
been
? It must have been poisoning because now the labs are saying the bird flu verdict was all a “mistake”.’ She made quote marks in the air with her fingers. ‘They can’t find any trace of bird-flu there now, and they can’t retest old samples because they’ve all disappeared.’

‘Again you keep me out of the loop!’ wailed Tam. ‘Again!’

Carrie patted her kindly. ‘Why pretend there’s bird flu, though?’ she asked the rest of us.

‘To give them time to get rid of the evidence,’ I said, before I could think not to.

‘What evidence?’ asked Tam.

‘The evidence of the poisoning,’ said Arns.

‘What’s the motive for the poisoning?’ I asked.

A gravelly voice came from doorway. ‘You lot are talking in circles. I’ve only heard the last part of this complicated conversation, and already my head is spinning.’

‘Mr K!’ I raised my hand in a salute and he winked back, hanging up his coat and fedora and coming over.

‘So what came first,’ he asked, ‘the poisoning or the murder?’

‘The poisoning, then the murder,’ said Alex decisively. ‘It was all plotted out before. The area would be declared a no-go zone while the body rotted away.’

‘Why kill Parcel?’ asked Mona.

‘Well,’ said Alex grimly, ‘Cluny would not have been able to sell the land if there’d been a squatter on it.’

‘He wants to sell?’ asked Tam. ‘How do you know this? Why don’t I know this?’

‘Because you’re too busy kissing me-a,’ proclaimed Gianni, back with more plates.

‘EEEEEEE!’ I shrilled in scandalised delight.

To be honest, I don’t think Gianni would have said anything if he’d known how we’d all go on – there was SQUEAKING and SQUAWKING and entirely too much noise for a coffee shop in Hambledon.

Tam, totally cerise, said, ‘Well, I had to get in with someone who’ll tell me what’s going on in Hambledon!’

‘That’s not-a why you love me,’ said Gianni, serving hot drinks with a flourish. ‘It’s a-cos I’m –’

‘Italian stallion?’ finished Carrie, and we all dissolved into snorty laughter. We were giggling so hard at Gianni’s discomfit that we couldn’t hear his retort as he turned on his heel and left.

‘He won’t come back now,’ mourned Tam.

‘Just eat your cake,’ I advised. ‘Before I do.’ Tam lifted her fork hurriedly. ‘So, squatters’ rights. That’s a biggie. Is it really true?’

‘Indeed,’ said Mr Kadinski. ‘Brewster would have had legal right to remain, so Cluny would have had great difficulty selling that area. And he does need to release capital, doesn’t he? Hmm. Squatters’ rights. Didn’t even think of that. Was all caught up in the witness theory.’ He tipped back in his seat, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

‘Well, there you go,’ said Alex triumphantly. ‘Now we just have to prove it.’

‘What, that Mr Cluny is a murderer?’ Tam was outraged. ‘No way!’

‘Maybe it wasn’t Cluny, as such,’ I wondered out loud, thinking of my previous misadventures. ‘Maybe it’s someone who knows Cluny will sell to them if he could . . .’

‘You’re making my head hurt,’ said Mona.

‘Leave it to Lula,’ suggested Tam. ‘And eat the cake. It takes you to a happy place.’

But it seems cake does not take Mona to a happy place. She picked at it delicately, and I wondered what the point of having a fantabulous bodacious body was, if you couldn’t EAT.

The high point of the evening was definitely the arrival of Jack. The best kind of surprise . . .

‘Hey,’ he drawled, pulling me out of my seat, and then
hugging me back on to his lap. ‘Any cake left?’ I couldn’t speak: my lips were smiling too widely to move.

Alex lifted an eyebrow. ‘Do you not
know
Tallulah Bird?’ she asked with heavy irony. ‘Her cake was gone the second we all lifted our forks.’

‘It’s true,’ I admitted, still grinning like a crazy person. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know you were coming. I thought –’

At that moment the bell on the door jangled and in came someone small and gorgeous and beautifully dressed in clothes too skimpy for this time of year. For any time of year. For anyone. ANYWHERE.

‘Hi, Jack,’ she trilled. ‘I see Talluley’s got my spot.’

My jaw clenched and I’m afraid my nostrils flared of their own free will. I couldn’t help it. But Jack didn’t notice. He just laughed good-naturedly and said, ‘So, what’s the news, Jazz?’

‘Ohh, you’ll need to come with me to hear all that,’ twinkled Jazz.

‘Come on, Jazz,’ said Jack, still smiling. ‘This lot probably know more than you do. Spill the beans.’

I felt all warm and cosy inside, and on the outside too, with Jack’s arm round me, but Jazz clearly did not. Her eyes narrowed for just a second before she said, with defiance: ‘I’ve got the coroner’s report.’

Alex gasped. ‘No way!’

‘The police don’t even have that yet,’ said Arns.

‘I know,’ smirked Jazz. ‘Bruising on the neck and head –’

‘Oooh!’ went Mona.

‘But no clear trauma to indicate a homicide.’

‘Ahhh,’ went Jack.

‘Death by drowning,’ concluded Jazz.

‘Hmmm,’ was the reply, from all of us, even though us girls didn’t want to give Jazz the satisfaction, and then everyone was quiet. Parcel Brewster had kept to himself, but even those that hadn’t known him didn’t like to think of him dying like that, all alone and helpless. I was thinking about the autopsy, and adding it to the conversation Jack and I had overheard up at Frey’s Dam in the dead of night. There must have been a scuffle, and Parcel either fell, hurting himself badly before rolling into the water and drowning, or they held him under . . . It didn’t bear thinking about.

‘May he rest in peace,’ said Tam with a sigh.

‘I’ll be a whole lot more peaceful if I know how he went,’ said Carrie.

‘Well, because things are so inconclusive, they’re going to get a second opinion on the autopsy,’ said Jazz. ‘Plus they’re going to re-examine the crime scene.’

‘When will that be?’ asked Jack, meeting my eye.

Jazz shrugged, unwilling to admit there was something she didn’t know.

Mr K was still staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, a toe tapping quietly. ‘Interesting,’ he murmured.

He would have said more, I’m sure, but the bell on the door jangled wildly and we all turned to look. There stood Pen, with Boodle pushing ahead of her on a short leash. Behind her was Fat Angus and he was carrying a box.

‘Hi, everyone,’ said Pen, smiling sweetly at my friends. Me, she did not smile at. Me, she glared at. Over she stomped.

I sensed this was not going to go well. ‘Hi, Pen!’ I said.

‘Hi, yourself,’ she hissed, coming round the back of my chair.

I kept a wary eye on her.

‘What’s up?’ I asked.

‘My bliddy dog won’t go anywhere without your bliddy duck! It’s pathetic! Everywhere I go I have to carry the dumbass box. With the dumbass duck. I’m not doing it any more. Today you have duck and dog. Angus and I need time alone!’

‘You have a duck?’ asked Jack, astonished. ‘Lula, is that –’

‘Uh . . .’ I said, thinking furiously. ‘Just give me a few minutes, Pen! You can’t leave household pets in a café!’

‘I can and I will!’ she muttered, dropping Boodle’s lead right there on the floor. ‘Put the box down, Angus,’ she commanded.

Angus put the box down gingerly on the table. Biggins stretched his neck over the edge of the box and went ‘cheeep’ longingly at the condensation on Jack’s smoothie.

‘Oh no, you don’t,’ I said to Pen. ‘Oh no no no no, you don’t!’

‘Sayonara!’ said Pen, drawing a Z-shape in the air, with a waggle of her head and hips. ‘Angus, come!’ Out she strutted, Angus shrugging and mouthing ‘sorry!’ behind her. The bell jangled, and all was quiet. I half-stood to make a grab for Boodle’s lead and saw Mrs Caruso hurrying over.

‘Did your sister just leave her big hairy dog here in my café?’ asked Mrs Caruso.

‘She did,’ I said, with a look across at Tam. Tam’s eyes went very big.

‘And the duck in a box?’ asked Mrs Caruso. ‘She left that too?’

‘Yes,’ I ground out.

‘Oh, boy,’ said Arns. ‘You about done, Mona?’

‘Don’t rush me, love-love,’ she replied, taking another tiny mouthful of cake.

‘The dog and the duck are here to stay,’ said Arns with meaning. ‘Here in the café. There’s going to be a disaster.’

‘I’m done,’ announced Mona, hurriedly leaping from her chair, snatching up her bag.

‘What dog and duck?’ asked Gianni, struggling under a tray of glasses and the biggest jug of water I’ve ever seen.

Boodle turned towards him and skipped up to
whump
both her enormous paws square in Gianni’s Italian-stallion bits.

‘WHOA!’ went Gianni. He went down like a tonne of bricks, his arms shooting up, the tray flying out of his hands. It was one of those slow-motion moments, and all I could see was the enormous jug of water hurtling my way. Not even my lightning-fast reflexes could prevent it sploshing its full load all over me and Tam but I was quick enough to snatch it up a hair’s breadth from the floor.

The glass tumblers hit the wooden boards, bouncing and rolling in all directions, while I shouted, ‘Frik! Stay! Oh no! Stay, Boodle!’