Chapter 11

Lost and Found

Art went home for lunch because Mum was on late shift. He ran, so he’d have time to do something else as well. He gulped his thick pea and ham soup, vegetable roll and fruit salad.

‘What’s the hurry?’ Mum poured herself another coffee.

‘I wanted to call in at the pet shop and the photographer’s before I go back to school.’

‘What for?’

He knew that question was coming. ‘Just want to look at some things.’

‘You know we can’t have a kitten here. The fur might affect your asthma.’

‘I want to look at a birdcage and maybe a hollow log.’

‘A bird wouldn’t be a good idea here either.’

I want to look at the cage, not buy the bird.’ Art wondered if he should tell his mum what he was looking for. Mystery-solvers were supposed to work out everything by themselves. So far, he hadn’t found many clues and it was nearly Saturday.

‘Mr. Snip-pets has lost Serena, his crested featherfoot fantail pigeon.I’m trying to find it before the wedding.’

‘Has he advertised in the newspaper’s Lost and Found column? Or tried online?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘If someone found the bird, they might put a notice in the Found column. Have a look.’

‘You read it Mum.’

‘I’ll find the page and the site. Then you can look for yourself. Don’t throw the papers away afterwards. I want to keep your photo to show Dad. I might ask Mrs. Next-Door for hers. That would give us a second one.’

Art could tell Mum was pleased.

‘I don’t know why they interviewed young Mario if it was you who saved the baby. ‘

‘Is that what it says?’ Art peered at the words.

‘Look for yourself.’

Slowly Art read the words which made Mario sound like a hero.

‘Sounds like Mars Bar. He usually talks about himself.’

Under Lost and Found were cats, keys and wallets but no birds. Art decided to search for Serena himself, at the pet shop and at the photographer’s place.

During what was left of lunchtime,Art was very busy. Panting, he jogged down to the petshop.

His breathing was going wrong again. He stopped and felt for his puffer. He wasn’t going to let asthma get in the way of solving the mystery of the missing Serena.

‘Hi,’ he called to Mr.Snip-pets on the way through to the yard. He wanted to check on the hollow logs. A bird could nest in there, like the photos of the nesting birds in Mrs.Tasker’s book. ‘Any news about Serena?’

‘No. But the birds have been dyed.’

‘What? Died? You mean dead? Have the other doves died? ‘ Art was alarmed.

‘No. I just coloured them. It was your friend’s idea. Something different. Over there. Look.’

Art stared at the rainbow birds flying around in the aviary. ‘They’re beautiful.’

‘I hope the bride thinks so. She’ll be disappointed about Serena.’

‘She may turn up yet,’ said Art hopefully as he moved towards the cobwebby part of the back fence. There were a few logs. And a few spiders. One big log was on its side. Art knelt and peered inside. It was hollow.

Something cooed.

‘Serena?’ Gently Art put in his hand. The bird had made a nest. It was deep inside , away from the rain.

‘Mr. Snip-pets!’ called Art over his shoulder.

Just then the phone rang, and Mr Snip-pets turned to answer it.

“Hello. Snip-pets Pet Supplies.’

Carefully, Art put his hand back into the log and touched the soft feathers. ‘Serena?’

Mr Snip-pets returned. ‘Someone’s found a bird.’

‘Which bird?’ asked Art. ‘Is it…but it can’t be …’He looked back at the log. ‘Is it a pigeon?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it …white?’

‘Not at present.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What has been found is a green bird.’

‘Oh…’

‘My neighbour found it on her lawn. Because I’ve got the pet shop with aviaries, she wants to give it to me. She asked if I’d like it. I said,’Thank you Madam, I think he belongs to me anyway. One must have escaped while I was dying them.” ‘

Mr.Snip-pets seemed to make a hobby of losing birds.

‘I think I’ve found ... Come and have a look.’

Art squatted down. Mr. Snip-pets knelt alongside him.

‘A nest! Of course, I should have looked around here.’

‘She wasn’t here a few days ago, ’said Art. ‘I checked.’

Very gently, Mr. Snip-pets pulled the bird out of the log. He smoothed the feathers and patted the dove. ‘Thanks a lot Art. Very glad to find her.’

Just then, the white dove fluttered and flew upwards. It perched on the outside of the aviary.Inside, the rainbow doves started to coo. Art stared. Something was wrong. The bird was the wrong shape. Its tail was not a fan.

‘That isn’t a crested feather foot fantail pigeon.’

‘It isn’t Serena.’

‘Correct. It’s Henrietta. She went missing on Wednesday.’

Art despaired. Perhaps Mr. Snip-pets should change the name of his shop to Lost Birdbrains.

Back inside the shop, Art looked at the bird labels.

‘Are they love birds?’

‘That’s the name on the cage. I sell them in pairs. But it’s been a bit quiet lately.’

“I know how you could sell some more,’ suggested Art. ‘Put a red bow on the cage and put them out front as St Valentine’s Day love birds.’

‘That’s an idea!’ said Mr. Snip-pets.’ Thirty-five dollars a pair. Want to write me a nice label? I’ve got a red texta here somewhere.’

‘Er ... I’m not much good at that,’ Art looked around. ‘India could do it. But she’s at school.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘ I’m late and Mrs. Tasker will chuck a mental.’

Art ran puffing back to school.

Sam was next on his list of suspects. After school, he’d find out if Sam the fantasy photographer was a pigeon-napper.