Half Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer [44]
I dedicated a page to each subject, filling it with every scrap of information I could find. I topped each page off with a photograph, which were surprisingly easy to find on the school website or local-paper archives. I didn’t bother with a photo of myself as I know what I look like and I knew I wasn’t guilty.
I got one of Red from an Elvis-impersonator competition publicity photo. I downloaded a photo of Maura Murnane from the local paper’s online archive from when she won slimmer of the year. MC Coy had his own website, featuring blurry shots of himself in various tracksuits. And there was a lovely one of May and April on the school fun page.
Red barged back into the room. He had been gone less than twenty minutes. Poring over files was not for everyone.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
Red pulled my chair away from the computer. ‘I think you better come now. Papa is solving your case for you.’
That got me out of my seat sharpish. I did want the case solved, but I was surprised to find that I didn’t particularly want anyone else to solve it. At the risk of sounding like Arnold Schwarzenegger, this one was personal.
I spoke to my computer. ‘I’ll be back,’ I said, then chuckled at the joke that only I understood. Which, I believe, is one of the first signs of insanity.
Papa was seated at the kitchen table with the files piled high in front of him. In one hand he held a statement, in the other a mobile phone.
‘Petey,’ he said into the phone, ‘that tyre job in Doyle’s garage. I’m presuming that was you and the boys, was it?’ Papa winked at me, which looked pretty much like a bear winking at a salmon. ‘I thought so. Why? Oh, nothing. I might be in the market for a few radials, that’s all. Talk later.’
Papa hung up, tossed the file into the bin and moved on to the next one. There were several other files in the bin.
‘Has Papa already phoned those people?’ I asked Red.
Red seemed almost embarrassed. ‘No need. Papa knows exactly who committed those crimes. He was nearby at the time. Very nearby, if you know what I mean.’
I could guess. After all, some of those were the Sharkey files.
Papa was on the phone again. ‘Jojo, I see you’ve been up to your old tricks again. What do you mean, what do I mean? The fruit truck in Wexford. You’re the fruit man in this county and everyone knows it. How about a few boxes of kiwis? I’m very partial to kiwis. Good man. I’ll be over tomorrow.’
Another file in the bin. Some files didn’t even merit a phone call.
‘Jimmy. Bob Hooley. English Ned.’
All files in the bin.
This was not how Bernstein said things should be done. There was no proof, no secondary confirmation.
‘Do you have a shred of proof?’ I asked Papa. ‘Eh… No offence.’
Papa ripped a file in half. ‘Proof, Half Moon? Proof? Do you want proof or results?’
I thought about the accusations painted on my head like a target. I imagined the hourglass of time running out, and I thought about my family, worried sick.
‘Results,’ I said.
‘Good. Give me five minutes.’
Red threw together some sandwiches while Papa worked. We stood at the sink, eating.
‘What’s next, Half Moon?’
I chewed this over, along with a strip of chicken. ‘Next, I suppose, we find our mystery giant.’
‘Shh, moron,’ hissed Red. ‘Do you think Papa is going to let us run around town after a giant? Keep that to yourself.’
‘Keep what to yourself?’ asked Papa, who apparently could hear a whisper at the other side of the room.
Red tossed out a quick fib. ‘His bad language. Half Moon has a foul tongue on him. You wouldn’t believe it.’
I smiled apologetically. ‘I’ll watch what I say.’
Papa pointed a finger the size of a Mars bar. ‘You better, kiddo. There’s a lady in this house, you know.’
I almost asked who, but remembered Genie just in time.
‘Sorry.’
Papa spun a file along the kitchen table.
‘One left. All the rest are accounted for.’
I was flabbergasted. ‘One? You cleared the entire