5.30 AM
Digby is sleeping in the spare bedroom. Olive wakes him up so he can join us for First Squawk.
He does quite well for a beginner.
5.45 AM
We all practise semaphore. I am reminded of Inspector Garcia’s last session at the shooting range with her colleagues, just before she went undercover to break up a gang of drug smugglers (Episode 14).
She made jokes. She gave her watch to Sergeant Jessica Ng, to keep for her until she came back. She reminded her colleagues that justice must prevail.
(I know she is not real, but she is still my hero.)
I do not have a watch, so I will give my egg to Olive for her breakfast. I will remind her and Digby that justice must prevail.
I will try to make a joke, though I am not sure how.
7.30 AM
Olive has made a little bag to hold Digby’s phone. She tells me his passcode, then shows me how to take photos and films. She shows me how to send messages. She warns me to watch out for the battery, and not to use the phone unless I have to.
She hugs me.
I peck her ear gently, and check her hair for mites.
Digby carries me into town on his handlebars. When we are a few doors away from the pub he stops and whispers, ‘Good luck, Clara.’
I hop down and scuttle behind a planter box. There are cars parked up and down the street, and people talking on the footpath. I wait until no one is looking in my direction, then I run into the gap between two shops.
My heart is beating fast. From here on, I am on my own.
A man walks towards me, so I scratch at the dirt and hope he doesn’t notice the bag around my neck. He passes without a word.
As soon as the coast is clear, I set off for the yard at the back of the pub. I get there just as Jubilee Crystal Simpson rides away on her bike.
What’s the point of going undercover in a master criminal’s headquarters if the master criminal is not there? I almost turn around and head for the school. But then I change my mind. Perhaps this is for the best. Perhaps I can dig up some evidence while she’s gone.
8.45 AM
The good news is, the Simpsons don’t have a rooster. The bad news is, they have a very bossy chief hen.
As soon as I walk into the yard, she bustles up with a fierce expression, flapping her wings and saying, ‘Who are you? What are you doing in my yard? Explain yourself.’
I lift my wing to reveal my police badge – only to realise that I took it off to try out the phone bag, and never put it on again.
I can’t be a police officer without a badge. Where’s my authority? Who will listen to me?
But I can’t turn back, either.
‘Sorry to bother you, ma’am,’ I say, ‘but I believe there’s a gang of rats holed up in the pub. According to my sources, they’re notorious egg stealers.’
That gets her attention. ‘Egg-stealing rats? Near MY yard?’
‘GIANT egg-stealing rats,’ I tell her.
If this hen was a rooster, she’d be racing around the yard shouting a warning. Instead, she arches her neck and says, ‘How can we help?’
‘I don’t want them to know I’m onto them,’ I say. ‘So it’s best if you and your sisters just go about your business as usual. Pretend I’m one of the flock. I’ll let you know if I need anything more.’
She hurries off to warn her sisters. They cluck and fuss, and stare at me, but then they go back to their scratching.
I hide Digby’s phone under an old wheelbarrow, then wander towards the back door, scratching at the dirt and catching the occasional grasshopper as I go.
The back door opens onto a small room. There are coats hanging on hooks, and two sets of boots lined up beside another door, which is also open. I cluck quietly to myself, and creep past the boots and into the kitchen.
There are no humans around. There is, however, a large grey tomcat asleep under the kitchen table.
I creep up to him and squawk loudly in his ear. He wakes up with a yowl of fright. I peck his furry tail, and say, ‘Scram,’ and he races out the back door with his fur standing on end and his ears flattened against his head.
Enemy number one dealt with.
Now that the coast is clear, I trot back outside for the phone. I set it up in a dark corner of the kitchen, ready for filming. Then I hide behind the fridge.
10.00 AM
No one comes into the kitchen for some time. I do Nap.
11.00 AM
Still no one, so I pop outside for a quick dust bath and a chat with the bossy hen, whose name is Delilah. She doesn’t know anything much about the Simpsons, except that they often forget to collect the eggs.
12.00 PM
I go back inside, hop up onto the edge of the rubbish bin and investigate the leftovers. I’m just getting stuck into half a loaf of bread when I hear footsteps.
I leave the bread where it is and dive back into hiding, just as Mr Simpson comes into the kitchen, talking on his phone.
I’m about to tap out the passcode and press record on Digby’s phone when I remember what Olive said about the battery. I’d better wait until someone does something illegal.
‘Well, maybe it’s for the best, Noelene,’ says Mr Simpson in his Merrycan accent. ‘Some people just don’t look after themselves well enough, you know what I mean? He’s a great cop, but I don’t think he took the time to grieve.’
He’s talking about Constable Dad! Quickly I press the record button.
‘What’s that, Noelene?’ says Mr Simpson. ‘Well, of course we’ll miss him! He’s one of this little town’s greatest assets. But he’ll be back, better than ever. And in the meantime I’m sure they’ll send us a good replacement. Maybe we should put our heads together sometime over the weekend and figure out a rousing welcome for the new feller. Saturday night suit you? Here, eight o’clock? Sure, invite whoever you like. That’s the way, Noelene. I knew I could count on you. Take care now.’
Undercover work is supposed to be exciting (Death in the City, Episode 6). But it’s not. There are no drug raids. No murders. No bodies buried in the backyard. (If there were, Delilah would have dug them up by now. For the maggots.)
Jubilee Crystal Simpson has no idea how to be a good master criminal.
3.30 PM
Jubilee Crystal Simpson is home from school. Now at last I should see something interesting.
She sits at the kitchen table. She stares at her phone, which is smaller than Digby’s.
This is not interesting.
5.00 PM
Still not interesting. I pop outside for a quick Earwig O’Clock.
Delilah sidles up to me and says, out of the corner of her beak, ‘Any news on the giant rats?’
‘I’m closing in on them,’ I tell her. ‘But it’s a dangerous business, and I can’t rush things.’
‘Let us know if you need backup,’ she says.
Delilah is a chook after my own heart. I wonder if she watches Death in the City.
