Half Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer [59]
I had a feeling that I would be hearing about the magnetized unicorn’s horn for quite some time.
I returned my attention to the patio. April was giving Murt the big round angel eyes.
‘Mercedes was crying at our sleepover, sergeant. It was pink night. We’re all in pink, because that’s what girls do, and we’re just like any other girls.’
Murt cleared his throat. ‘Pink night? Is that why I came over here? I have better things to be doing. I promised Art Fowler I’d check his vending warehouse for that prowler that’s been spotted. So I do have somewhere to go tonight.’
‘Ah now, sergeant,’ objected Mr Devereux. ‘Be patient. They’re only kids.’
Murt had heard too many sob stories to be a soft touch. ‘I’m a busy man, sir. Let’s hear what the girls have to say and see what has to be done about it. April?’
‘Well, it’s not me, really. It’s Mercedes who has the problem. I’ll let her tell you. Mercedes?’
Mercedes stood, walking with slow deliberate steps to a better vantage point. She cleared her throat and flicked her hair. Preparing herself to repeat the performance we had seen in the unicorn room.
The performance!
I pulled my notebook out, flipping to my unicorn room notes. I had written down Mercedes’s entire routine.
I scrawled a mobile number on the notebook, then passed it to Red. ‘Text this page to that number. Quickly.’
‘Why am I –’
‘Quickly,’ I hissed. ‘No time.’
Mercedes was shaking out her fingers.
‘Shake, shake, shake, silly supper sausages,’ she said automatically.
This surprised the adults somewhat.
‘Excuse me?’ said Murt.
‘She’s nervous,’ said April hurriedly. ‘And upset too. Isn’t that right?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Mercedes, with tears in her eyes. ‘My puppy got eaten by a wolf.’
Murt rolled his eyes. ‘Right, I’m off. Thanks for the wild-goose chase, Mrs Quinn.’
‘No, sergeant. I’m ready now. Please.’
‘One more chance. And I don’t want to hear the words pink, sausages or wolf.’
Mercedes took a deep breath to speak and Murt’s phone beeped.
‘That was quick,’ I said, startled.
‘First sentence only,’ said Red, without looking up from his screen. ‘I’m going to send it in bursts.’
Murt took out his phone. ‘Keep going there, Mercedes. I’m a trained professional, I can read texts and listen to sausage stories at the same time.’
‘Oh, principal,’ gushed Mercedes. ‘I can’t tell. My good and responsible friend, April, made me come here. But he will kill me if I tell.’
‘I suppose you mean Herod Sharkey?’ said Mrs Quinn, straying from the script.
Murt was absently reading his text message, when Mercedes’s words penetrated. He suddenly sat bolt upright in his chair.
‘What did you just say?’ said the guard, then caught himself. ‘Nothing. Go on, keep on going.’
Mercedes dragged at her cheeks, leaving red finger marks. ‘Herod Sharkey… Oh no, I’ve said his name. He’ll know. That boy is the Devil.’
‘I know who it is, Mercedes. You told me that already.’
Murt opened another text. Mercedes continued with the prepared monologue.
‘Please, Principal Quinn. You’re a woman. You understand how it is in this man’s world. We suffer in silence.’
Mrs Quinn was confused. ‘What are you talking about, girl? We suffer in silence?’
Mercedes, dramatically, and again with much wincing, revealed the bruises on her arm.
‘He gave me a skin burn, Principal Quinn. He thinks it’s funny.’
There were tears rolling down Mercedes’ cheeks as she said this, but Murt was not impressed, as he was reading the exact same words on his screen. This was obviously an act.
He nailed Mercedes with his best bad-cop stare. ‘What is going on here? One chance. Start talking.’
Mr Devereux rose to his feet, knocking a glass of congealing lemonade. ‘Sergeant Hourihan, how dare you talk to this poor girl in that tone!’
‘I dare, sir,’ retorted Murt, very theatrically, ‘because this girl is reading from a script. The same script that someone has just texted to me. Someone with my mobile number…’ Murt paused. He was no fool. ‘Someone who can’t show himself for some reason.’ He looked around. ‘Someone who’s running his own investigation.