Spark, page 3
Ozuru picked up his notebook from the floor. “Number one, the skywatch hide.”
“Actually” – Jack raised his hand – “I’ve something way more interesting to tell you.”
“Oh, Jack,” Tara said reproachfully, “the skywatch hide is interesting.”
“No, what I meant was—”
“Wait your turn.” Ozuru pointed his pen at Jack. “You’re number three on the agenda.”
Tippi jumped to her feet and yelled as if she were bursting from holding the words in, “There’s a bearded vulture coming!”
“Tippi,” Ava hissed, “we were meant to tell them together.”
“What?” Twitch’s head snapped round to look at Ava.
“It’s flying this way,” Ava whispered excitedly, nodding.
Twitch grabbed her arm. She grabbed his hand. Their eyes were shining, and Jack felt a twinge of jealousy.
“Vultures are cool,” Terry said, turning to Jack. “They eat dead stuff. Kinda like zombies.”
“Zombies don’t eat dead stuff. They are dead, well, kind of. They eat the living,” Jack replied, testily. Once again, he didn’t understand what was going on. He’d never heard of bearded vultures.
“It’s a very rare bird,” Tippi said, knowingly.
“Can vultures grow beards?” Ozuru sounded puzzled.
“Do you think it shaves?” Terry joked. “Or waxes its moustache?”
Tara laughed, looking happy that they were all together again and she wasn’t the only girl in the hide.
“That is cool news,” Jack said. “And I’ve got some news that you’re going to—”
“Bearded vultures are not native birds.” Twitch spoke over Jack to Ava. “How do you know it’s coming?”
“The vulture was spotted a week ago. Nan says it’s flying this way.”
“It was her idea to sail here, to see it,” Tippi said. “She wants to paint it.”
“You sailed down on the Kingfisher?” Ozuru’s eyes lit up. The Kingfisher was Ava and Tippi’s grandmother’s canal boat, and Ozuru was the only member of the Twitchers who hadn’t been inside it.
“What’s next on the agenda, Ozuru?” Jack asked, but Ozuru wasn’t listening.
“It took us all yesterday and the afternoon before,” Tippi replied, nodding. “We’re moored by Aves Lock.”
“This is big!” Twitch spun round, looking at each of them. “It’s huge!”
Jack had never seen him so charged with energy.
“This is bigger than huge. It’s our opportunity to see a lifer!”
Everyone was smiling and Jack’s insides crumpled. He wasn’t sure what a lifer was.
“Jack, you are going to love this bird.” Twitch grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “They eat bones!”
“Cool,” Jack replied, faking enthusiasm, and trying not to feel hurt that, in his excitement about the vulture, Twitch seemed to have forgotten about the cat killer case. Sometimes, Jack couldn’t help feeling that he was somehow less than his friend, because he didn’t have a passion as big. He knew he shouldn’t be jealous of birds. That was silly. But birds seemed to matter more to Twitch than anything else in the world, and that could sting. Twitch had changed Jack. He’d got him interested in nature. But Jack didn’t think he’d had any impact on Twitch at all. Twitch was always Twitch.
“A vulture is a big bird,” Tara said. “The best place to see it coming will be our skywatch hide on Passerine Pike.”
“Yes,” Twitch agreed. “It’s the highest point for miles.”
“Shall I draw up a watching rota?” Ozuru suggested. “We could do it in pairs.”
“Nan’s got books about the bearded vulture on the boat,” Ava said, “if you want to come and learn more about them.”
They were all standing up now. Jack rose too.
Tippi held up her right hand and drew her first two fingers together, tapping them twice against her thumb, making the sign for bird. They all made the sign and launched into The Twitchers Oath. They grinned at each other as they recited the words that Jack had helped write, and he tried to smile too.
“I do solemnly swear never to knowingly hurt a bird.
I will respect my feathered friends and help them when they are in need.
I will protect every bird, be it rare, endangered or common, and fight to conserve their habitats, or may crows peck out my eyes when I am dead.
For I am a Twitcher, now and for ever.”
“To the Kingfisher!” Twitch declared, and they all trooped out of the hide after him.
Jack hung back as the Twitchers marched merrily through the trees to the footpath, heading towards the kissing gate that opened onto the canal. Everyone was chatting excitedly. No one noticed that he was subdued and lagging behind.
A tiny bird landed on a spray of elderberries beside him and chirruped. Jack had no clue what type of bird it was.
“Shove off, brown bird,” he growled, and the bird obeyed. He glanced up, feeling a hot flush of guilt, but the others were too far ahead to have heard him. When he reached the junction, he loitered, kicking at a mound of fallen leaves that had collected at the base of the signpost.
Amid the familiar clamour of Aves Wood – the rustling leaves, the churning river and the twittering birds – Jack heard a strange, strangled, hiccupping sound. He lifted his head to call out to the others, but they had disappeared around a bend in the path.
Curious to discover what the noise was, Jack followed a winding track made over years by children going down to the bank of the River Bridd.
Sitting on a rock beside a rope swing was Pamela Hardacre. She had her arms wrapped around her knees and was staring at the river, crying.
Pamela Hardacre was the most popular girl in school and the meanest. Jack couldn’t imagine what had brought her to Aves Wood. It was a place she sneered at. And he’d never seen her upset, let alone cry.
“Pamela?” Jack approached warily. “Are you OK?”
“Go away,” Pamela shouted, wiping her sleeve across her face before turning to see who it was. “Oh, it’s you.” She looked past Jack to see if he was alone. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your feathered freak squad in a muddy hole somewhere?”
“Yes,” Jack replied, coming to sit down beside her, “but I heard crying.” He paused, waiting for her to tell him why, but she didn’t. “Don’t see you in Aves Wood often,” he tried. This was an understatement. Jack had never seen Pamela in the nature reserve.
Pamela clamped her jaw shut and stared moodily at the water. Jack studied her, noticing her nails, painted a glittery purple, had been bitten right down. Her hair, which she always wore parted in the middle so that it fell either side of her blue eyes like long golden curtains, was unbrushed and scraped into a ponytail. Something was very wrong. Jack decided he should wait quietly until she was ready to talk. He knew that’s what Twitch would do.
“Where are your friends?” Pamela asked eventually.
“Looking for a bird with a beard,” Jack replied cheerily.
“Birds don’t have beards!” Pamela laughed despite herself.
“This one does. It’s very rare. Some kind of vulture.”
“Sounds stupid.” Pamela glanced at him. “And ugly.”
“Twitch says it eats bones.”
“Ew! Gross!” Pamela frowned, then gave him an appraising look. “Wait. You’re winding me up. Birds don’t have beards and eat bones.”
“This one does. For real.”
“My cat likes to catch birds…” The muscles in Pamela’s chin tensed as her lips clamped together in a tiny frown.
Jack sat up, suddenly alert. “Is… Is something wrong with your cat?”
Pamela nodded, looking down so he couldn’t see her face. “This morning … in the kitchen … Splatty, my cat…” She made a high-pitched whining noise in the back of her throat as emotion overpowered her speech. “She was on the floor…” Pamela couldn’t go on. She buried her head in her knees and sobbed.
Jack sat patiently beside her, saying nothing. He felt sick. He knew what had happened to Splatty.
Pamela’s sobs subsided. “Someone shot her, Jack!” she blurted out. “Someone shot Splatty! Who would do a thing like that?”
“That’s awful!” Jack said sincerely. “Was she, I mean, is she … alive?”
Pamela nodded as she wiped her tears away. “She was bleeding really bad. We took her to the emergency vet. She’s got to stay the night. They gave her anaesthetic so they could stitch her up.” Her eyes blazed with anger. “Some scumbag shot her in the tummy.”
“Scumbag is right,” Jack agreed. “I found a cat in the woods yesterday. It had been shot too. There’s someone out there with a gun that really doesn’t like cats. The vet said it was the third cat to have been hurt this week.”
“Do you think it was the same person who hurt Splaticus Caticus?” Pamela gasped.
“Splaticus Caticus?” Jack lifted an eyebrow.
“That’s Splatty’s full name.” Pamela glared at him, bunching up her fist. “And if you say a word about it, I’ll give you a dead arm.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Jack held up his hands. “And I do think it was the same person who targeted both cats. When was your cat shot?”
“Last night, but we didn’t find her until this morning.” Pamela’s anger was helping her overcome her tears. “It’s so cruel. Pets are a part of people’s families. Who would shoot them?”
“I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “Have you told the police?”
“My parents talked to the police.” Pamela’s shoulders slumped. “They took down the details, and they say they’re investigating but that there’s not much they can do unless there’s a witness to the attack.” She sighed. “They didn’t even look for clues.”
“What? Four cats have been shot now and one of them has died! That’s murder! This is serious. They should’ve looked for clues.”
“That’s what I think.” Pamela nodded vigorously. “That’s why I came here.”
“To Aves Wood?”
“I was looking for your secret club house…”
“Our hide?”
“Hide, club house, whatever,” she huffed. “I searched for ages, but I couldn’t find it.”
“It’s camouflaged.” Jack paused as the penny dropped. “Wait. You came looking for us? You want the Twitchers to investigate Splatty’s shooting?”
“You caught a bank robber, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but, you’re always so … rude about us.”
“So what? I’m rude about everybody,” Pamela replied haughtily. “I want you to find out who hurt my Splaticus so I can shoot them and see how they like it.”
“You can’t shoot people, Pamela.”
“Fine, well, get them arrested and sent to prison then.” She scowled. “So, are you going to help me or not?”
Jack stared at Pamela. She was exasperating.
“Actually, I’ve been working the case since yesterday,” he said casually.
“You have?”
“Yeah. Mr Reginald Frisby asked us to find the culprit and bring them to justice.”
“Who’s he?”
“The owner of the cat I saved yesterday.”
“You saved the cat?” The sneer melted from Pamela’s face.
“Yes.” Jack pulled up his sleeves. “It gave me a good scratching when I carried it to the vet’s, because it was frightened. The vet said I saved its life.”
“Oh, Jack!” Pamela stared at him with sudden unbridled admiration and Jack felt himself blush.
“So you see, I’m already on the trail of the evil cat killer and I intend to get the evidence needed to convict them and send them to prison.”
“Really?” Pamela’s eyes were wide. “You promise?”
“I promise,” Jack said solemnly, getting to his feet. “Now, you live on Greenshank Road, don’t you?”
“Yes. Number twenty-seven.”
“We’ll come over this afternoon, look at the crime scene, take your statement, and hunt for clues.”
“Oh!” Pamela drew in a ragged breath and smiled at him. “Thank you.”
“We are going to find out who is doing this. And stop them before another cat gets hurt.” Jack felt a thrill as the words came out of his mouth. “Go home. Don’t touch anything, and don’t worry. The Twitchers are on the case.”
“Where did you go?” Ava called out as Jack made his way back along the track. She had her hands on her hips and Terry was stood beside the signpost.
“We got to the boat and you weren’t with us,” Terry said, accusingly. “We thought you’d fallen into the canal or something.”
“I’m fine.” Jack noticed that Twitch hadn’t come looking for him.
“Twitch is on the boat with his nose stuck in a book about vultures,” Terry said, as if reading Jack’s mind. “Turns out the bearded one coming this way is some kind of mythical bird in Iranian culture. Tara got crazy excited. She says it’s called the houmous bird, or something.”
“Huma bird,” Ava corrected him, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, the Huma bird. That’s what I meant. Anyway, she says if you see the Huma bird you’ll be happy for the rest of your life, but that if someone kills it they’ll die within forty days, which is pretty cool because it basically means the bird dishes out luck or curses,” Terry babbled. “I hope we see it. I’d like to be lucky for the rest of my life. Hey, if we do see it, I’m going to play the lottery and win a million pounds!”
“You have to be over eighteen to do the lottery,” Jack pointed out.
“Doesn’t that path go down to the river? What were you doing down there?” Ava asked as they headed towards the canal.
“Working a case,” Jack replied, as if solving mysteries was the most ordinary thing in the world.
“A case?”
“What case?”
Ava and Terry had stopped walking. Jack was gratified to see them wide-eyed with interest.
“I’m investigating the case of the evil cat killer,” Jack replied, continuing to walk. They hurried to his side to hear. “Four cats have been shot in a week. One of them died.”
“What! That’s terrible!” Ava said, aghast.
“How come you’re investigating it?” Terry asked.
“Because yesterday, when I didn’t show up for the Twitchers’ meeting, I was saving one of those cats.” Ava narrowed her eyes as if she didn’t believe him, and Jack pulled up his sleeves. “Colonel Mustard did this to me as I was carrying him to the vet’s.”
“Ouch! That must’ve hurt!” Ava’s astonishment and concern made Jack stand a little taller.
“I told his owner about the Twitchers and Mr Frisby asked if we’d work the case. The police can’t do much unless a witness sees someone shoot at a cat.”
“Why didn’t you say something in the meeting?” Terry asked, almost skipping he was so excited. “This is epic!”
“I tried, but I didn’t want to steal anyone’s thunder.” Jack shrugged. “Twitch knows about the case. I told him this morning, but you know him and birds. A rare vulture visiting Briddvale? That’s a big deal for him, bigger than solving a case.” He felt very noble as he shook his head. “But I won’t let Mr Frisby down. I’m happy to work the case on my own, whilst you guys wait for the big bird. In fact, I said I’d interview him later today. I’ve also promised to visit the house where Splatty, the cat who was found shot this morning, lives: to look for clues.”
“Can we come too?” Terry pleaded. “We want to help, don’t we, Ava?”
“Yes.” Ava grinned. “Let’s tell the others and then we can go.”
“Wait.” Jack stopped. He could see the Kingfisher moored to the towpath fifty metres away, its roof covered with a colourful container garden of flowers. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell the others just yet.”
“Why not?” Terry asked. “They’ll be into it. I know they will. This is our first case since the bank robber.”
“Yeah, but Twitch is really excited about this vulture.” He turned to Ava. “When you told him about it, it was like you’d said Christmas was coming early. Twitch forgot about everything and everyone else, including the case.”
“So?” Ava prompted. “He’s always like that about birds.”
“If Ozuru, Tara and Tippi are excited about the bird” – Jack was uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t – “I don’t want to spoil things for them. Why don’t we three do some preliminary investigating, conduct the interviews, poke about, see if we can find some clues. Then once we’ve got some suspects and have built a case, we can tell them about it.”
“We can look for a giant bird and track down a crazed cat killer at the same time,” Terry protested.
“No, Jack’s right,” Ava said. “Twitch won’t be interested in the case with the vulture coming, and I don’t think Tara will either. Let Ozuru draw up the rota for the skywatch, and Twitch and Tara do the bird research and plan everything. We’ll set up a case file on the cat killer and gather all the facts we can, then we can tell them tomorrow.”
“But Ozuru’s my best friend. I tell him everything.”
“It’s only for one day,” Ava said.
“There’s another reason not to tell the others yet,” Jack said. “The person whose cat was found shot this morning is Pamela.”
“Pamela Hardacre?” Terry was appalled. “She says we’re a dumb bunch of ditch dwellers!”
“Poor Pamela,” Ava muttered.
“What do you want to help her for?” Terry scowled. Jack knew he didn’t like her because Pamela constantly mocked him for wearing second-hand clothes.
“She did help us catch the bank robber,” he pointed out.
“To get likes on the Internet,” Terry spat.
“C’mon, Terry, someone shot her cat,” Ava said. “That’s awful.”
“You don’t see her at school, Ava. She’s horrible to Tara,” Terry said. “Ever since she joined the Twitchers, Pamela pretends she can’t hear Tara when she talks. She pretends she hears an annoying buzzing fly and makes everyone laugh at her.”
“It’s true,” Jack said, “and Twitch and Ozuru like Pamela less than you do. But if they knew about Splatty, they’d want to help.”
