Look into My Eyes. Lauren Child

thing is,’ continued Brant, trying to keep the conversation on track, ‘Mrs Digby felt Sabina was taking Consuela’s side – she’s very high-strung.’

      Ruby was by now standing in the doorway quietly observing. The detective was writing something on his notepad, obviously thinking very hard.

      ‘What is it?’ asked Sabina.

      ‘Could just be that your Mrs Digby is somehow involved in all this – have you thought of that?’ He waved his arm to indicate the now furnitureless house.

      ‘Oh now come on Detective! Nat, you’ve seen Mrs Digby – you really think a little old lady is capable of stealing every stick of our furniture?’ Brant was appalled by this suggestion.

      ‘Well as it happens, I don’t, but as the Detective says, we have to follow up every lead.’

      ‘Maybe she wasn’t acting alone,’ said the detective.

      ‘Oh, you must be out of your mind – Mrs Digby practically raised me,’ exclaimed Sabina. ‘That’s an awful thing to say.’

      ‘Maybe I am, and maybe it is, but you have to admit it’s quite a coincidence her disappearing at the same time that you lose all your million-dollar stuff, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs Redfort?’

      ‘Well yes, but, but…’

      ‘I’m just saying, we need to look into it,’ said the detective, closing his notepad. ‘Thanks for your time.’

      He left by the back door.

      ‘Sorry not to come with better news,’ said the sheriff.

      Just then his radio crackled. ‘Nat, you there? We got a problem at the City Bank.’

      The sheriff sighed and spoke into the radio. ‘Not again! OK, I’ll get over there right away.’

      He looked up at the Redforts. ‘Darn it, this gold delivery’s causing mayhem – the new alarm system keeps triggering. It better be fixed before that shipment arrives.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘Look, I’ll let you know if I get any more leads. You take care. Remember, get those locks changed!’

      ‘What’s left to steal?’ said Sabina, closing the door.

      Ruby glanced over at Hitch. He looked far from the suspicious character Clancy wanted him to be – he was busy making cocktails and seemed not the slightest bit interested in this latest development. Was he listening? It was hard to be sure – he seemed a lot more concerned about squeezing limes than he did about a little old lady who was missing, presumed felon. Maybe there was nothing sinister about him at all, maybe he was just a bit dumb.

      Handsome but probably not a lot going on upstairs, thought Ruby.

      Brant caught sight of his daughter. ‘Hey, Ruby honey, what happened at basketball?’

      ‘Oh, you know, bounced a ball, shot some hoops, came home. What’s going on?’

      ‘Well that… detective fellow wanted to interview Mrs Digby about the robbery, but no one can find her.’

      Ruby took a breath. ‘Do you think it’s possible…’ her voice was hushed so her mother wouldn’t hear. ‘Do you think it’s possible that Mrs Digby was stolen, you know, along with all our stuff ?’

      Brant Redfort smiled, ‘That’s a good one Rube!’

      But Ruby wasn’t joking.

      ‘I’m serious Dad, perhaps she was kidnapped?’

      ‘If she was kidnapped then we would know about it,’ said Brant.

      ‘Not necessarily, the kidnappers might be waiting a while before they make contact – you know, to build up the tension.’

      ‘You know what?’ said Brant conspiratorially.

      ‘What?’ said Ruby

      ‘You watch too much TV.’ He laughed, patted his daughter on the head and walked into the living room. Ruby sighed as she straightened the barrette in her hair.

      ‘And you guys probably don’t watch enough’, she muttered under her breath. This kind of situation was always coming up in Crazy Cops. Ruby had learned a lot about the workings of the criminal mind from watching this show. It was on tonight and if Mrs Digby were here they would be watching it together – side by side on the couch. Except there was no couch. Wherever Mrs Digby was now, Ruby wondered, was she watching Crime Night?

      Ruby’s sleep was fitful that night – she had a hard time dozing off, and when she did, she dreamt dreams which gave her no rest. Dreams where the telephone rang and the voice on the other end spoke in riddles. Dreams where her mother was taken hostage by a dangerous toast eating butler and her father was shot at by crazy furniture thieves, and all the while the voice of Mrs Digby called out to her from some faraway prison cell. She was woken by her own voice calling, where are you Mrs Digby?

      She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Mrs Digby, a criminal? That detective was a prize bozo. Mrs Digby would never commit a crime – well, not a crime against the Redforts anyway. Ruby’s mind began sifting through worries, exploring solutions, hitting dead ends and double-backing to square one. She consoled herself with RULE 33: MORE OFTEN THAN NOT THERE IS A VERY ORDINARY EXPLANATION FOR THE ‘EXTRAORDINARY’ HAPPENING.

      But it was no use, she was wide-awake.

      She got up, pulled on a sweatshirt and quietly made her way downstairs – she didn’t want to wake Bug. But Bug was already awake and staring intently at the man sitting in the kitchen. Ruby froze: from her vantage point she could see Hitch, perched on a stool, his right shirtsleeve rolled up high to reveal a bandage at the top of his arm, which he slowly began to unwind.

      She held her breath and became as still as the walls.

      She watched as gradually all the gauze was removed to reveal what could only be a gun-shot wound.

       Meanwhile,somewhere in themiddle of nowhere…

      Mrs Digby was crawling out of a floatation tank. She emerged in a polka dot bathing suit, somewhat dazed and disorientated, finding herself not quite in the Redfort’s spa gym. Certainly most things were familiar but at the same time everything was very, very unfamiliar. All the furniture was the same, all the objects were the same, all the art was the same, what was odd was there was no house.

      ‘Where in all heaven have the darned walls gone?’ she exclaimed.

      She appeared to be in an enormous aircraft hanger containing just about everything the Redfort’s had ever owned.

      The last thing Mrs Digby had been aware of was climbing into the floatation tank at three o’clock the previous day – she had been suffering from angry thoughts concerning her rival in the kitchen, Consuela, and thought she could do with some isolation time – or who knew what she might do.

      Sabina Redfort had had the floatation tank installed only the other month, having taken advice from her personal healer, who had persuaded her that she needed more time with herself.

       Mrs R always finds it very calming – what harm could it do? I guess it prunes the skin a little but at my age what’s a little pruning?

      Mrs Digby had thought these thoughts as she climbed in, lay down, pulled the door shut and instantly fell into a heavy sleep.

      Boy, had she slept!

      What was the day, she wondered? Better not be Tuesday, she thought, catching sight of the Redfort’s kitchen clock. If it is then I’m missing Crime Night, and I never miss Crime Night.

       Chapter 8.

      Getting Lucky

      BY DAYBREAK RUBY WAS UP, showered and pulling