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FINE CUT FILMS - NONSENSE

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THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF AARDVARK JENKINS

N.B. This is part of a long story. You may want to read chapter one first. Or go somewhere much more interesting!

Chapter four

"Yes, and that's where the van stopped. And the other van was over there. And here's the bowl I tripped over. This is it! This is the place." Henrietta was pacing up and down. "I recognise it now. These old houses all look the same."

"Well it's not really a lot, you know," Thomas looked thoughtful. "A red and white hankie and a bowl. We need a proper clue. A bullet or something."

For the second time that day they began to search a half-demolished house.

Sherlock Holmes himself never scoured the scene of a crime so thoroughly. They moved every brick, every piece of glass and every lump of wood in sight.

And found ... ants!

They searched every inch of the road. But it was as devoid of clues as the house.

Richard flung himself down on the grass verge, mindless of the ants who were still looking for lunch. "Nothing. Not even a cigarette end with lipstick on."

Henrietta looked at him in surprise. "There weren't any women there."

"Doesn't matter. All the detective stories I've read have cigarette ends with lipstick on them."

Thomas flung down the stick he'd been using to poke at the grass. "What we need is a scientific approach."

"Looking for clues is scientific," said Henrietta. "We just haven't looked hard enough."

Richard lay back. "I've had enough of ants for one day."

"No!" said Thomas. "A proper scientific approach. We'll re-create the events of that fateful day!"

"Fateful day!" sneered Richard. "How? There's only us here, and no vans or guns."

"Never mind. We get Henrietta to go over it in her mind."

"What! Like a hypnotist?" she asked.

"Well sort of. Where were you when you first saw the van?"

"About here, I think." Henrietta moved over to the low wall. "It came from down there." She pointed over to her left. "And it sort of skidded sideways and stopped there."

"What happened then? Describe the van. Close your eyes and tell me what you see."

Henrietta closed her eyes and made her hands into fists. "It screeched to a stop and sort of wobbled. This man got out. He ... he had a brown hat on. And he had curly hair!"

"Good, good." Thomas smiled at Richard. "Curly hair. It's working. Go on Hal."

"And then there was another van. And guns."

Richard got up and moved closer. "What kind of guns?" he asked. "AK47s?"

Thomas waved him to be quiet. "No, what about the vans? What colour were they?"

Henrietta scrunched up her eyes to think better. "Er ... "

"They were different colours."

"Okay. Come on Hal, the first van. That's the important one."

"I think ... grey. Yes, grey!"

"Just grey?"

"I think it was grey."

"Okay, what about the men?"

"They were dressed in grey. No, brown. Grey."

Richard turned away and sat down again.

Thomas gritted his teeth. "Come on Hal, think! Okay, the van. The first van. It was sideways in the road. Did it have any writing on?"

"Yes. No! I don't think so."

"Are you sure? Vans usually have writing on."

"I ... don't think so."

"Okay, but it was grey?"

"Dark grey." She paused, then the words came out in a rush. "And it had a dent just near the driver's door, and it had yellow paint on the dent, and the dent looked like a ... a pyramid, upside down." She opened her eyes. They were bright. "I saw it!"

"Hal, you are brilliant." Thomas punched her on the arm. "And so am I for my scientific deductions." He looked down. "And Simpson is totally brilliant too, of course."

"Hummph!" shrugged Richard.

"Hummph!" shrugged the sergeant an hour later. "A red spotted handkerchief, you say?"

Thomas held it up in its plastic bag.

Henrietta nodded.

"And a white bowl?"

"And a grey van. Two grey vans."

"Have you any idea just how many grey vans there are in Singapore?" The policeman looked at the trio. Richard eased himself a little behind the other two.

"No, well neither have I. There must be thousands. Red and white handkerchiefs are a little more rare, I admit. But there's nothing in your original report about either a handkerchief or a grey van, miss." He shut the report file and looked at them sternly.

"There has been no report of any attack on any van in any part of Singapore. I think you three amateur detectives will agree that if anyone had been held up, he might have mentioned it to us by now."

"Not if it was money from an illegal drugs operation." Richard's chin was up.

"Not if it was ... Now look here young man. Your games are all very well if you keep them to yourselves, but when it comes to wasting police time, I strongly advise you to think again. I shan't warn you again. There has been NO robbery. I repeat; NO ROBBERY. Good day to you." He walked to the door and held it open. They filed out in silence.

"Good day to you too," muttered Thomas when they were safely out of earshot. "What now?"

"Why won't they believe me?" Henrietta shook her head. "I saw it. The grey van. I really did."

Richard looked up at the police station, then to Henrietta. "Look Hal. There might have been a grey van there. And a man with a spotted hankie. But guns? Are you honestly sure there were guns?"

"Yes."

"Could have been a car backfiring."

"No! And I saw the money."

"Sacks. That's all. People shift things from vans to cars or other vans for all sorts of reasons. And maybe ..."

"Rick!"

"And you didn't tell us about the hankie until after Simpson found it."

"Rick. What do you mean?"

"I don't think there was any robbery at all! I think you're making it up."

Thomas stepped in. "Look Rick. You were there. You saw Hal had been knocked out."

"Yeah. By a tree. Not by a bunch of drug dealers. And I'm surprised she didn't invent a kidnap as well."

"Richard!" Henrietta stamped her foot.

"Ah!" He turned and walked off. "I'll see you later."

Henrietta stared after him horrified.

Thomas put his arm round her shoulder. "Never mind old Hal, old pal. He's just a bit fed up, that's all."

"Oh Tee, I feel sick." She took a big breath and shook her head. "Oh, pooh to him. I saw it, and I know that I saw it."

Simpson whined. He knew something was wrong. He also knew that it was time for his supper.

"Come on Simpson," said Thomas. "Let's take him home, then we'll go and invest in a very large ice cream sundae at Swenson's. Your mum gave us far more than the taxi cost."

"Bad idea," said Henrietta.

"What is?"

"An ice cream sundae."

"And what's better than an ice cream sundae."

"Two ice cream sundaes!"

They raced off down the road, Simpson out in front by a long way.

"Goal!"

"Four-three to us, then," Richard called. "Better wake your ideas up!"

The opposing captain took a better grip on his stick and curved off to have a word with his team. The roller blade hockey derby was into its last five minutes.

It was just a friendly game, but winning was a matter of pride and honour.

The whistle blew, the rollers spun, and the sticks clacked. For another two minutes the cul-de-sac was a flurry of whirling players. Then Richard got the ball and for a minute he was unmarked. He shot down the pitch, blades screaming, a masterful piece of dribbling.

He was just twenty metres from the goal. From nowhere, an opposing defender appeared, flashed across his path and hoiked the ball away. Richard spun around and tackled him. Sticks clashed, and the ball shot off sideways. They both made a mad dash for it. It was win or lose time.

Then somebody's stick got in the way of somebody's rollers, it was too quick to tell whose, and Richard shot out of the cul-de-sac and into the road, tumbling head over heels.

There was a huge screech of brakes and he wrapped his arms around his head and squeezed his eyes shut. A second later he opened them again.

Just a few centimetres away was a large black tyre. It was connected to a grey van. The grey van had a dent with yellow paint on it. And the dent was like an inverted pyramid!