I fly down from the wardrobe rail and prepare for First Squawk, but Olive rolls over, grabs my beak and mumbles, ‘No, Clara. Please?’
I can’t begin the day without First Squawk. But a good detective must learn to compromise, especially with her sidekick. I wait until she has her hands over her ears, then I do it very quietly.
5.45 AM
Semaphore practice. We get to the end of the alphabet and start again. Olive is a quick learner.
I have been thinking about the three rules of the chookyard. Olive is gradually improving with regard to Rule #1 (Get Up Early So You Don’t Miss Out), but she and Constable Dad are not doing at all well on Rules #2 and #3 (Keep A Clean House So As Not To Attract Rats, and A Varied Diet Is A Healthy Diet).
It is time I stepped in. While Olive gets dressed, I head for the kitchen sink.
I eat the leftovers off the dinner plates, then fly down to perch on the edge of the overflowing rubbish bin. It tips over and all the rubbish spills out onto the floor, which makes it nice and easy to search for food.
Rats aren’t interested in empty tins, plastic bags and suchlike, so I kick them out of the way and get on with the job. By the time I’ve finished, there’s not a single bean, scone or bit of toast left in the rubbish.
Satisfied that I have done my duty, I hop carefully around the empty tins and plastic bags, and go outside to the compost heap. As I begin Worm Hunt, I hear Olive shriek, ‘Clara, what have you done?’
She’s obviously impressed with my cleaning.
7.00 AM
Egg O’Clock. I stroll across the backyard towards my comfortable nest under the bush, murmuring quietly to myself. I duck under the bush—
And stop in shock. The nest is empty. The eggs I laid yesterday and the day before and the day before that aren’t there!
I search all around the nest, in case they’ve rolled out. I turn over the leaves. I poke my head under the bush next door, in case I’ve gotten turned around somehow and was looking in the wrong place.
But my eggs are gone.
No, not gone. The Boss is the only one who collects eggs, and she is not here. So they must have been stolen.
Now I have two mysteries – the stock thefts and the missing eggs. Are they connected? Are they both the work of Jubilee Crystal Simpson, master criminal? Or is there a sneaky rat nearby?
These are not the sort of eggs that will hatch out into chicks, but I still don’t want a rat to have them.
There’s no time to investigate, however, not with another egg on its way. I leave my old nest behind and make a new one behind the compost heap on the other side of the yard. Then I sit and think about yesterday.
When Olive asked me to go to the farm with her, I found myself huddling down as if Rufus and the other chooks were looming over me with their fierce eyes and their sharp beaks. I forgot I was a detective. I pretended I was too busy to go with her.
Inspector Garcia never pretends she is too busy. I have let my sidekick down.
Today I will make up for it.
7.30 AM
Olive has cleaned up all the not-very-interesting rubbish that was on the floor and in the bin, and put it outside. Now she’s cooking something called an omelette.
When it’s done, she cuts it and gives half to herself and half to Constable Dad. It is a beautiful shade of yellow.
Constable Dad looks surprised, but he eats it and says, ‘That was – nice.’
Olive seems a little happier than she was yesterday. She finishes her breakfast and says, ‘Thanks, Clara.’
I’m not sure what she’s thanking me for. Probably for letting her be my sidekick. ‘You’re welcome,’ I squawk.
9.30 AM
Olive gets a map and shows me the farms where sheep have gone missing. She has done quite well for a sidekick, but I am way ahead of her.
‘WILL JUBILEE CRYSTAL SIMPSON BE AT SCHOOL TODAY?’ I ask.
‘No,’ says Olive, ‘it's Saturday. There's no school on Saturday.’
‘THEN WE MUST FIND HER SECRET HIDE-OUT AND SET UP AN OBSERVATION POST.’
‘She hasn’t got a secret hide-out, Clara. She lives at the pub with her dad.’
‘THAT’S HER HEADQUARTERS? THEN WE WILL SET UP AN OBSERVATION POST OPPOSITE THE PUB.’
‘Look, Clara.’ Olive takes a deep breath. ‘It’s not Jubilee, okay? If you want to help Dad, you have to accept that.’
‘WHO LIVES OPPOSITE THE PUB? PLEASE ARRANGE FOR US TO USE THEIR UPSTAIRS ROOM.’
‘It’s not Jubilee!’
‘DO YOU HAVE BINOCULARS? AND A WALKIE-TALKIE?’
‘No, I don’t. And if I did, I wouldn’t give them to you.’
I write, ‘YOU ARE NOT A VERY GOOD SIDEKICK.’
‘And you’re not a very good detective,’ she snaps.
We glare at each other. I walk away.
10.00 AM
I do not need a sidekick. I did perfectly well without one back at the farm, when I solved the Mystery of the Missing Eggs, and I will do perfectly well without one now. Sidekicks are useful, but not necessary.
And some sidekicks are not even useful.
Thanks to Inspector Garcia, I know exactly how to set up an observation post by myself. I may not have binoculars or a walkie-talkie, but my eyesight is excellent and, if necessary, I can squawk very loudly.
I set off for town, and Jubilee Crystal Simpson’s headquarters.
10.15 AM
I’m halfway to town when Olive catches up with me on her bike. ‘Clara,’ she says, skidding to a halt, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.’
I keep walking.
Olive hops off her bike and walks beside me. ‘Really I didn’t,’ she says. ‘Please come back.’
I keep walking.
‘You’re a good detective,’ she says. ‘But you’re wrong about Jubilee.’
Olive rolls her eyes. ‘Look, she won’t even be at home this afternoon. She’ll be at the footy, like everyone else. By the time you finish setting up the – um – observation post, she’ll be gone.’
I stop, and semaphore, ‘WHAT IS FOOTY?’
‘That was a W, wasn’t it?’ says Olive. ‘And an I? Or was it an H? Sorry, could you write it down?’
She puts her phone on the ground beside me, and I write the question again. ‘WHAT IS FOOTY?’
‘Football,’ says Olive. ‘It’s a game. Little Dismal’s playing Yabby Creek.’
‘AND JUBILEE CRYSTAL SIMPSON WILL BE THERE?’
Olive nods. ‘She reckons it’s not nearly as good as American football, and the rules are dumb and the umpiring is weird blah blah blah. But she still goes to watch every week.’
‘What? No, I haven’t been to the footy since – since ages.’
‘TAKE ME THERE.’
‘I said no, Clara. I don’t want to. There are too many people, and some of them—’
‘TAKE ME THERE.’
‘But I—’
‘TAKE ME—’
Olive snatches the phone from under my beak. ‘All right, you don’t have to keep saying it. We’ll go to the footy!’