The Case of the Exploding Brains (17 page)

“They’re not, like, dead or anything, are they?” Porter asks. “Couldn’t the guards have stepped in earlier?”

“They can’t be dead,” I say. “How could they confess to knowing Dad – like PC Eric said they did – if they were dead?”

“Good thinking,” PC Eric says. “Although, technically, that would only require one of them not to be dead. Don’t worry, though, they’re fine except for a couple of
large bumps on the head.”

“Serves them right for helping Dad and his cavemen,” Holly mutters.

“Dad didn’t bop a Mobi-tech man, did he?” I ask anxiously.

“I think that was the plan.” PC Eric says. “But he froze at the last minute and a gentleman named Hell Raizah was forced to ‘bop’ two technicians. By all accounts
he bopped your father too, for failing to follow instructions.”

“Good,” Holly mutters as the new ‘Mobi-tech men’ walk into camera shot.

“Wow! You’ve got to hand it to Dad,” I say. “That is an incredible invention.”

“Yes,” Holly replies. “But look at the way he’s chosen to use it.”

I nod. “On the positive side, it’s helped me work out where we’ll find the Space Rock.”

Days Left to Save the Earth: 1

The
B
ureau
A
gainst
D
angerous
D
evices in
I
reland,
E
ngland and
S
cotland (what
did
happen to Wales?) confiscate the Stealth Blankets and add them to a long list of things Dad is not allowed to work on in the future.

The police discover some half invisible prototype Stealth Blankets in the Science Museum’s ‘Live Science Lab’ and convince the prison authorities to give Aggressive Policeman
unrestricted access to Dad, to interrogate him about a possible connection to the Space Rock’s disappearance.

Unsurprisingly for someone on the verge of being offered a reduced prison sentence for his ‘help’ in preventing the break-out, Dad is denying any involvement with the Space Rock
robbery. More surprisingly, Aggressive Policeman believes him.

I suspect this is because if he didn’t believe Dad, he’d have to admit he should have paid more attention to my evidence about the woman under the blanket. However, Aggressive
Policeman claims he’s based his decision that Dad is innocent on two factors:

Aggressive Policeman’s brains are clearly made of brown bananas if he can’t see that Dad could have organised the theft without actually touching the Rock, but he’s right to
focus on the symptoms caused by the Space Rock.

Everything moved so fast in this case I missed a few clues. Or at least I missed the connections between them. Being smart is all about finding the connections between things.

+

=

Time to hitch another lift with Uncle Max. I call PC Eric and tell him to meet us at the museum.

“This will be your last trip, girls . . . and lodger,” Uncle Max announces as we cruise down the A1. “My business in London is coming to an end. Plus, it’s not safe there
any more.”

He’s talking about all the fights that have been breaking out around the city. The Emergency Services are on high alert and people have been warned not to travel into London if they can
avoid it. The danger hotspots are all within a twenty kilometer radius of the Science Museum. So far no brains have exploded, and you get the impression the news crews are slightly
disappointed.

The museum itself is now closed to the general public because so many staff members have been hospitalised, either with chronic head pains or as a result of injuries following attacks by fellow
Science Museum workers. However, the lady who answered the phone told me there were still a few staff members watching over the exhibits and said we were welcome to pop in to investigate further as
they’re so desperate for things to get back to normal they’ll accept help from anyone. Not massively flattering, but at least they’ll let us in.

“Why is your business coming to an end?” Holly interrogates Uncle Max from the passenger seat. “Is Aunty Vera getting suspicious?”

Uncle Max keeps his eyes on the road, but they go all narrow and slitty. “Why? Have you said something to her?”

“No, but I considered it.”

Uncle Max’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Why would you do that? You’ll spoil the surprise.”

Holly glares at him. “How can you be so heartless?”

“Heartless? What are you talking about?” Uncle Max turns to Holly and his car drifts across the road until a white-van driver beeps and makes gun hands at him.

“I heard you on the phone.” Holly fiddles with her seatbelt, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. “I know you’re meeting another woman every time you go to
London.”

“Well, of course I am. How else would I get the . . .” Uncle Max pauses mid-sentence and his expression changes from shock to disbelief and then he barks with laughter. “You
think I’m seeing another lady behind Vera’s back?” He looks almost flattered. “Wow! That would be brave. If your aunt thought I was even considering something like that
she’d cut off my . . . head.”

“But, if you haven’t got a girlfriend, what
have
you been doing in London?” Holly gazes out of the window as if the road signs might hold the answers.

“He’s been meeting Mobi-tech,” I announce, waiting for the explosion.

“Who?”

Okay, so that wasn’t quite the reaction I was expecting. Where are the screams of horror from Porter and Holly? Where are the guilty, desperate attempts to defend himself from my uncle?
Uncle Max is either a very good actor or genuinely confused.

“Mobi-tech!” I repeat. “Hello? The IT firm who helped Dad with his failed escape attempt? The guys who got bopped on the head by Neanderthugs?” I point to the bag I
spotted when I clambered into Uncle Max’s car. The bag with the large Mobi-tech logo on the side.

Holly and Porter gasp in shock. Finally, some normal reactions.

Not from Uncle Max though. His face takes ‘confused’ to whole new levels “Mobi-tech? They’re just the company providing the technology.”

“What technology?” Holly stretches her seatbelt and shifts in her seat to face him. “Let me get this right – you’re meeting a mysterious tech-lady connected to the
people who tried to break Dad out of jail?” She turns to me and Porter. “Is that better or worse than having a girlfriend?”

“Mobi-tech is a big company,” Uncle Max protests. “I wasn’t involved in any attempt to release your father. Nor would I ever be! No offence . . . Well, a bit of offence I
suppose, but not to you personally.”

Holly doesn’t look offended. I’m withholding judgment until I figure out what he’s talking about.

“You still haven’t told us what you were up to,” Holly says.

Uncle Max sighs. “Can I just say these trips to London are all to do with a gift for Vera, and leave it at that?”

“A gift for Aunty Vera?” Holly smiles and looks ready to drop the subject, but I’m curious now.

“What kind of gift would Aunty Vera want from Mobi-tech?”

“Oh, look!” Uncle Max points out the window. “We’re here already. What a shame, no time to discuss it.” He pulls in to the kerb. “I’m just picking
something up today, so only forty-five minutes this time. You’ll have to move fast.”

As we enter the Science Museum, I forget about Uncle Max’s gift-buying cover-up. We have bigger Space-Rock-related mysteries to solve.

I recognize the walnut-faced receptionist immediately.

“Walnut-faced?” Miriam the Receptionist glowers at me.

Uh-oh. I’d forgotten about the mind-reading. “Mmm. Walnuts. My favourite snack,” I mutter quickly, looking for a way to distract her. “Porter, show Miriam that photo of
your mum.”

Porter pulls it from his pocket.

“Miriam, do you recognise this woman?”

“Of course I do,” Miriam says. “Mallory Trimm isn’t a person you forget.”

This is true. “Then do you remember what she was wearing on the day the Space Rock went missing? A blanket perhaps?”

“A blanket? Why would a person wear a blanket? Is this some kind of joke?” Miriam scowls some more. “She was wearing a suit. I remember because it was a particularly ugly one.
Plaid polyester in green, rust and cream. Single breasted with two buttons at the front and—”

“Okay, okay, got it. Not a blanket.”

So Ms Grimm must have hidden the blanket somewhere between ‘Exploring Space’ and Reception. What are the options?

That’s got to be a clue. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.

The memory of the burning smell triggers an image in my brain.

I remember the thought that went through my head on the day of the Space Rock heist, and picture it in a clue box:

“Excuse me!” I run (well, jog, as I’ve never been able to run more than twenty metres in one go) to the museum café. Holly and Porter race along behind me.

“What are you . . .? Ahhh!” Holly nods in understanding as I grab the café’s fire blanket. “Ooooh!” she murmurs as I pull off the poorly-glued-on
‘FIRE’ label. “Oiiii!” she protests as I shove the blanket into my bag.

“Evidence,” I mutter, unsure whether I’m collecting it or hiding it. “I have a new theory.”

“What are you doing?” Miriam appears at my shoulder.

“I’m picking up something I left here the other day,”
I think as hard as I can.
“Something incredibly dull and not worth you paying any attention to. Now,
about Mallory G-ahem-Trimm and her blanket . . .”

Miriam’s face goes walnutty again. “I already told you she wasn’t wearing a blanket! Just an ugly suit. A really ugly suit. Hideous. She looked much better when she popped in
yesterday.”

“Whoa! Yesterday? Mrs Trimm was here yesterday! Are you sure?” I can’t hide my alarm.

“Positive. I remember because I had to remind security to search her. The Curator says they have to do that every time she visits. He had a tip-off.”

“The Museum Curator? I thought he was in hospital?” I feel a wave of fondness for Museum Curator Gnome, who obviously listened to my warnings about Ms Grimm.

“He was discharged early.” Miriam doesn’t look particularly pleased about it. “Some kind of miracle recovery.”