Mr Parker was the nosiest nosy parker there ever was. He was a retired army major, and now ran the local Neighbourhood Watch group, Lower Toddle branch. This was a collection of people who kept an eye out for burglars. But Mr Parker took it one step further. He spied on absolutely everyone.
Mr Parker had very nearly landed Ben and his granny in a puddle of trouble when they’d tried to steal the Crown Jewels. That night, Mr Parker had ended up humiliated by the policemen who hadn’t believed his story. Ben and Granny had walked free, but Mr Parker had held a GIANT GRUDGE against the boy ever since. He was determined to one day finally see Ben unveiled as a criminal mastermind.
“I said,” began the nosy neighbour in his nasal voice, “how do you know so much about the theft of Tutankhamun’s mask?”
“Erm,” spluttered Ben. “I don’t know anything!”
“You just said you did!”
“Did I?”
“YES!”
“Ah, Mr Parker!” began Raj, staring back at the man. “My least favourite customer!”
Mr Parker was sporting his usual pork-pie hat, rain mac and highly polished brown brogue shoes. At Raj’s greeting his sour face soured some more.
“Hmm,” said Mr Parker. It was unclear what this meant, but it sounded disapproving. “I should report you!”
“Whatever for?” asked the newsagent.
“Selling out-of-date chocolate bars!” declared Mr Parker, brandishing one he’d picked up from the counter.
“Let me see that!” snapped Raj, snatching the bar out of the man’s hands.
The newsagent studied the wrapper. “It is only ten years out of date! It is perfectly fine to eat!”
A sinister smile spread across Parker’s face. “Well, you eat it, then, Mr Raj!”
“Me?”
“Yes! You!”
Raj shot a panicked look over at Ben. He needed help. The boy shrugged. Raj shook his head and unwrapped the bar.
“It is so old that the chocolate has turned white!” exclaimed Mr Parker.
“It is meant to be white,” lied Raj. “It is white chocolate.”
“It says ‘dark chocolate’ on the wrapper,” added Ben innocently.
“You are not helping, Ben!” said Raj, who nibbled the edge of the mouldy chocolate bar.
“Does old chocolate turn white just like old cat poo?” asked Ben.
“Now you are really not helping!”
“EAT IT!” ordered Mr Parker.
Poor Raj had tears in his eyes as he munched his way through the dry and dusty snack that had died many years ago. As he did so, against all odds, he began to enjoy the tangy taste. “Mmm. It’s actually delicious! Excellent vintage! Please, have a bite!”
This hurled Mr Parker into a rage. “Never mind about that! Ben, you need to tell me everything you know about last night’s heist. Because the theft of Tutankhamun’s mask has all the hallmarks of one of the crimes of the silver-haired menace: your grandmother! Or, should I say, of her… ACCOMPLICE!”
Ben gulped guiltily. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean, Benjamin Herbert.”
Raj popped his hand in the air. “I have no idea what either of you mean!”
Mr Parker’s red eyes narrowed. “So, you little worm,” he said, addressing Ben. “Where were you last night?”
“In my bathroom at home fixing the toilet flush!” spluttered Ben.
“Fixing the toilet flush! What twaddle!”
“It’s not twaddle. It’s true!”
“Have you got an alibi?”
“A what?”
“Someone who can vouch for your whereabouts!” thundered Mr Parker.
“Only the toilet. And toilets can’t talk.”
“Mine does!” chipped in Raj. “Just last night I could swear it called out in pain when I sat on it!”
“A daring robbery in the dead of night by a figure dressed only in black,” continued Mr Parker, pointing at a picture from the grainy security footage at the museum, which was on the front page of the newspapers.
“I don’t wear black!” protested Ben.
“You and your grandmother were wearing all black the night I apprehended you!”
“Apart from that one night, I don’t!”
Mr Parker looked Ben up and down. “Right now, you have black socks on!”
“One of them is navy.”
“You might be wearing black undercrackers!”
“My undercrackers are brown, actually!” replied Ben.
“Very wise,” muttered Raj. “I do the same. In case of a boomtastic* bottom banger!”
“Never mind about bottom bangers! Let me tell you this, young man…” said Mr Parker, leaning in so he could stare right into Ben’s eyes, “I have my eye on you!”
Not breaking his gaze, he began stalking away theatrically. Because he wasn’t looking where he was going, Mr Parker backed straight into a carousel of cards.
DOINK!
He slipped over.
SLOOSH!
The greetings cards fluttered into the air like butterflies…
WHOOMPH!
…landing on top of him in a shower.
“Ouch! My bottom!” cried Mr Parker from the floor.
A Get Well Soon card landed on his face.
“Looks like I won’t need to send you a card!” joked Ben.
“The greetings cards are on special offer!” added Raj. “One hundred and thirty-seven cards for the price of one hundred and thirty-six!”
“HELP ME UP, YOU FOOLS!” thundered Mr Parker.
Ben and Raj hoisted the man up by his armpits.
“OOF!” exclaimed Mr Parker as he landed back on his feet. “Now unhand me, you brutes!”
Ben and Raj shared a confused look. The pair had no idea why they were now “brutes”, but they let go of Mr Parker.
“You lied your way out of it last time! This time you won’t be so lucky!” he said as he swept out of the shop.
DING!
As Raj righted the carousel, Ben began stuffing the cards back on the shelves.
“What was all that about?” asked Raj.
“I have absolutely no idea,” lied Ben.
“Come now! This is your Uncle Raj. You don’t need to keep secrets from me.”
“I don’t have any secrets!”
“We all have secrets! Was it something about your grandma?”
“No!” replied Ben, a little too quickly to be believed. “I have to get home. My mum and dad will be worried.”
“Yes. You run along. Would you like to take the Ballroom Monthly for your mother? She orders it in. This month it has Flavio on the cover!”
There was indeed a photo of the smug-looking Strictly Stars Dancing dancer blowing a kiss to the reader.
“Oh! Not him again,” muttered Ben. “Yep, I can take it for her.”
Raj scoured his famously messy shop before he finally found one. “Ballroom Monthly? Ballroom Monthly? Ballroom Monthly? Ah! There it is! In the freezer! Of course! Nice and fresh for you!”
With that, he handed Ben the magazine, which was so cold a white mist danced across it.
WHIZZLE!
Ben slipped the frozen magazine inside his Plumbing Weekly. He didn’t want anyone to think he read Ballroom Monthly! He loved ballcocks, not glitter balls! He put the money down on the counter.
“There you go, Raj!”
“My white-chocolate bars are on special offer.”
“No thanks, Raj. I don’t like white chocolate!”
“Let me have a peek,” said Raj, unwrapping a white-chocolate bar from the counter. “This one is only twenty years out of date. And – oh look – you’re in luck! The white chocolate has actually turned brown!”
Ben did not want to risk it. “I’m good, thanks, Raj!”
“Oh! The kids of today are so fussy!” The newsagent took a bite out of the musty white-chocolate bar. “Delicious! I know what I’ll do – I’ll put the white-chocolate bars that have gone brown in the dark-chocolate wrappers, and the dark-chocolate bars that have gone white in the white-chocolate wrappers. I’m a genius!”
“Remind me never to buy chocolate here again!”
“One more special offer?”
“What now?” asked Ben wearily.
“I have some fancy-dress outfits left over from Halloween!”
“No thanks, Raj.”
“Ben, haven’t you always wanted to dress up as a pretty little princess?”
“NO!” replied the boy firmly.
“Oh! I have! Or how about a lobster?”
Raj did indeed have a large red lobster costume on sale.
“Funnily enough, no!” was Ben’s answer.
“Buy nine lobster costumes, get a tenth free!”
“Goodbye, Raj!”
“Goodbye!” chirped the newsagent. “You just missed the deal of the century!”
DING!
* A real word you will find in your Walliamsictionary, the finest book of made-up words in the world. The definition of “boomtastic” is “thunderous”.