Atticus Claw Breaks the Law (2 page)

3

At number 2 Blossom Crescent, Littleton-on-Sea, the Cheddar family was sitting down to breakfast. At least the children – Michael, who was eight, and Callie, who had just turned six – were sitting down. Mrs Cheddar and her husband, who had recently been appointed as the town’s Police Inspector, were rushing round in circles looking for his badge.

‘I had it yesterday,’ Inspector Cheddar shouted. ‘I put it down on the kitchen table ready to polish it in the morning and now it’s disappeared!’

‘It can’t have, darling,’ Mrs Cheddar said mildly, opening cupboards and looking inside. ‘Have you checked the fridge?’

‘I didn’t put it in the fridge!’ Inspector Cheddar yelled. ‘It’s a police badge, not a pint of milk!’

‘Can’t you go without it, just this once?’ Mrs
Cheddar suggested. She was already running late for work.

‘No!’ Inspector Cheddar wailed. ‘The Chief Inspector of Bigsworth is coming to the station today. I need to make a good impression if I’m ever going to get a job at Scotland Yard.’ (Getting a job at Scotland Yard was Inspector Cheddar’s lifelong
ambition
.) ‘If he sees me without my badge he’ll put me on traffic duty.’

‘Perhaps Mrs Tucker knows where it is,’ Mrs Cheddar said, rummaging inside the pan drawer. ‘She’ll be here any minute.’

Mrs Tucker was the Cheddars’ childminder. She came in the mornings and afternoons to help with breakfast and tea and to take the children to and from school while Inspector and Mrs Cheddar were at work.

At the mention of Mrs Tucker, Michael and Callie grinned at one another. They liked Mrs Tucker. She
was fun.
And
she was on their side in what had become known as ‘The Battle of the Pet’.

The Battle of the Pet had started when the Cheddar family moved house for Inspector Cheddar’s new job. Inspector Cheddar had promised the
children
they could have a pet to help them get used to their new home. Mrs Cheddar had agreed. Now they were both too busy with work to do anything about it. But Michael and Callie hadn’t given up hope; especially as Mrs Tucker was on the case.

They heard the roar of a motorbike pulling up. A key turned in the latch. A few seconds later Mrs Tucker strode in.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, taking off her helmet and patting down her frizzy grey hair. She thumped her basket on the table. ‘I had to help Mr Tucker mend his nets.’ She winked at the children as she pulled off her leather jacket and stepped out of her biker boots. ‘Just in case he meets one of those horrible
you-know-whats
when he’s out in his boat today.’ She reached in her basket for a pair of slippers and an apron.

Michael and Callie giggled. Mr Tucker was a fisherman. The children had never met him, but he sounded awesome. A horrible
you-know-what
was a
sea monster. According to Mrs Tucker, Mr Tucker regularly came across them when he was out
catching
sardines.

‘Not to worry, Mrs Tucker,’ Mrs Cheddar said
cheerfully
. She pulled her head out of the washing machine. ‘Only we’ve lost Inspector Cheddar’s badge. You don’t know where it is, do you? He needs to polish it.’

‘It’s in the fridge,’ Mrs Tucker said at once, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I saw it lying about last night and thought to myself, he’ll be looking for that in the morning so I’d better put it in a safe place.’

‘I told you!’ Mrs Cheddar exclaimed.

The children giggled.

‘How stupid of me,’ Inspector Cheddar said
sarcastically
. He opened the fridge and plucked his badge from the vegetable drawer. ‘I should have known it was here all along.’

Mrs Tucker ignored him. ‘Now if you had a
dog
,’ she looked meaningfully at the children, ‘you could train it to find things for you.’

‘No!’ Inspector Cheddar said firmly.

‘Please, Dad!’ Callie cried.

‘Yeah, Dad,’ Michael joined in. ‘You promised we could have a pet.’

‘I’m too busy to look after a dog,’ Inspector Cheddar said irritably, getting the Brasso out from under the sink. ‘So’s Mum.’

‘What about a cat?’ Mrs Tucker suggested. ‘They’re easy to take care of. They don’t need
walking
, for a start.’

‘I love cats!’ Callie cried.

‘Well, I
hate
them,’ Inspector Cheddar declared, rubbing away at the badge with a duster. ‘They’re nasty scheming things with no sense of loyalty. Like criminals.’

‘Nonsense!’ Mrs Tucker declared. ‘Mr Tucker had a cat once which was cleverer than a human. It used to help him navigate. It saved his life in a storm more than once.’

‘I very much doubt it,’ Inspector Cheddar said rudely. He didn’t believe any of Mrs Tucker’s stories about her husband. He put his badge down on the window ledge and opened the window to get rid of the smell of Brasso. He didn’t want the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth to suspect he’d polished it in a hurry.

‘Go on, Mum,’ Michael begged. ‘Please can we have a cat? Callie and me will look after it, I
promise
.’

‘Well …’ Mrs Cheddar hesitated. She’d been going to say ‘yes’ (she liked cats too) but decided she’d better not upset her husband any more. ‘It’s really up to Dad.’

‘And Dad says NO,’ Inspector Cheddar said again.

Michael and Callie looked disappointed.

‘Never mind,’ Mrs Tucker whispered loudly. ‘We’ll get round him one way or another.’

‘I heard that, Mrs Tucker.’ Inspector Cheddar sat down next to the children and poured himself a mug of tea. ‘And I’d like to remind you, I am a Police Inspector. No one “gets round” me.’

There was an awkward silence.

‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!!’

Everyone looked up in surprise. Two magpies had landed on the window ledge. They didn’t seem remotely frightened of the humans. In fact, they hardly seemed to have noticed the Cheddar family at all. They were staring at something else.

‘Quick, Dad!’ Michael cried. ‘They’re after your badge!’

The thinner of the two birds hopped towards the newly polished badge and opened its beak.

‘Over my dead body!’ Inspector Cheddar sprung out of his chair and ran to the sink. ‘Shoo!’
he shouted, flapping his hands at the birds. ‘Shoo!’

The two birds hopped along the windowsill, but they didn’t fly away.

‘Nasty things, magpies,’ Mrs Tucker muttered, shaking her head.

‘Why?’ asked Callie.

‘They’re just birds,’ said Michael. ‘Aren’t they?’

‘They’re not
just
birds,’ Mrs Tucker said in a hushed voice, as though she didn’t want the magpies to overhear her. ‘They steal things. And you should never cross them.’ She shivered. ‘It’s like breaking a mirror. Magpies bring bad luck.’

‘Now then, Mrs Tucker.’ Inspector Cheddar turned his back on the magpies. ‘None of your
superstitious
old wives’ tales, please. Michael’s right – they’re just birds.’ He started to pin his badge to the top of his sleeve. ‘OUCH!’

‘What’s the matter now?’ Mrs Cheddar asked
anxiously
.

‘I just stuck the pin in my arm!’ Inspector Cheddar moaned. ‘What a morning!’ He grabbed his cap and left.

‘I told you magpies bring bad luck,’ Mrs Tucker said darkly. ‘How’s it going up at Toffly Hall, dear?’ she asked, changing the subject.

Mrs Cheddar was helping to organise an antiques fair to be held in the grounds of a nearby stately home. The fair was going to be filmed for the TV show
Get Rich Quick!

‘All right, I suppose,’ Mrs Cheddar sighed. ‘But it’s only ten days away and there’s still so much to do. We’re expecting hundreds of people to bring things to be valued. I just hope it all goes smoothly.’ (Mrs Cheddar was also secretly hoping that if it
did
go smoothly then Rupert Rich, the presenter, might offer her a job on the programme.)

‘
Attack the attic, make a packet!
’ Mrs Tucker roared. (That was Rupert Rich’s famous catchphrase.)

‘Can we come?’ asked Michael excitedly.

‘Of course you can,’ Mrs Cheddar said. ‘You’ll love it. There’s going to be a real mixture of stuff. Lots of trash, probably – there always is – but some really beautiful things as well; people will bring
jewellery
and watches – and of course there’s Lady Toffly’s tiara.’

‘What’s a tiara?’ Callie asked.

‘It’s a sort of hairband,’ Mrs Cheddar smiled, ‘made of diamonds.’

‘It sounds wonderful,’ Mrs Tucker sighed. ‘I wish I had something like that tucked away in the roof.’

‘You should have a look,’ Mrs Cheddar said. ‘You never know what might be there.’

‘
Attack the attic, make a packet!
’ Michael and Callie shouted.

‘Huh!’ Mrs Tucker snorted. ‘All I’m likely to find is a load of Mr Tucker’s old fish hooks. Now come along, you two,’ she told the children, ‘let’s get you off to school.’ She went to get their bags while Mrs Cheddar kissed them goodbye and set off to work.

When their mum had left, Michael and Callie got down from the table and went to wash their hands. The magpies were still at the window. They gazed at the children with black beady eyes.

‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’ cawed one.

‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’ the other cackled.

Callie frowned. ‘It sounds like they’re laughing at us,’ she whispered.

‘I know what you mean,’ Michael said. He studied the birds carefully. One was thin and scrawny with a hooked foot, the other was fat with feathers missing from its tail. The birds stared back at him. ‘It’s as if they’ve been listening to our conversation!’ Michael
shivered. For some reason the two birds gave him the creeps. Maybe Mrs Tucker was right – maybe they
did
bring bad luck.

‘If we had a cat, it could chase them away.’ Callie grinned.

‘Yeah, like
that’s
going to happen! You heard what Dad said, Callie – he
hates
cats. We’ll be lucky if we get a goldfish.’ Michael leaned over the sink as far as he could and pulled the window shut.

4

Two days later, Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw purred goodbye to the old lady in whose wheelie basket he’d been riding and stepped off the bus in Littleton-on-Sea. The journey had been
reasonably
straightforward: a comfortable cabin on a cruise ship with a couple from Spain who thought he was the ship’s cat and brought him delicious scraps every mealtime; followed by a pleasant train journey in first class and a short ride on the bus with the old lady in a shopping basket full of biscuits. He rubbed the crumbs off his whiskers.
So far
, he thought,
so good
.

Atticus looked about him, taking in his
surroundings
. To his left was a parade of open-fronted shops and cafés, which wound its way into the distance. The shops sold ice cream and buckets and spades
and postcards. The delicious smell of fish and chips wafted from the cafés. Atticus sniffed the air.
Maybe later
, he thought, turning his back. Right now, he had business to attend to.

Across the road was the sea. The tide was out and the beach seemed to stretch for miles, flat and muddy-looking. Only a few people were on it. Atticus could understand why. A cold wind was blowing and it had started to drizzle. Like all cats, one of the things Atticus disliked most was rain. Fluffing out his coat, Atticus sighed. He missed Monte Carlo already.

Sidestepping a little girl with sticky hands who wanted to stroke him, Atticus crossed over to the beach, hunching his shoulders against the wind, and jumped on to the sea wall. From here he had a better view of the pier. It stood a little way along the sand, beside the car park. He gazed at it, taking in every detail. It was roughly as wide as railway tracks and stuck out into the sea for about a hundred metres. Rusty rails ran along both sides of the wooden
walkway
, which was held up by huge iron pillars covered in seaweed.

Atticus approached cautiously along the wall, ready to disappear in an instant if there was any
trouble. He reached the car park and gazed along the walkway. The pier was deserted. There was no sign of anyone. Or anything. Atticus hesitated. He heard the town clock strike once to signal the
quarter
hour. 11.15. He was bang on time. But where was the mysterious client who had sent for him?

Suddenly he heard a strange noise.

‘
CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA
!’

The chattering was loud and angry as though someone or something was warning him off. He
listened
again. The sound was coming from somewhere
below
the pier, where the iron columns held the
walkway
in place. Atticus jumped down lightly on to the sand and tiptoed under the pier. He followed it out towards the sea, glancing up from time to time. About halfway along, he stopped. Balanced between several rusty struts way above him was a scruffy mess of twigs and leaves. Leaning over the side of it were three bright-eyed birds with black heads and flashes of blue and white on their wings.

‘
Magpies!
’ he whispered.

‘What are you doing down there?’ the first of them jeered.

‘Yeah, if you’re Claw and you’re really as good as you say you are, you’ll climb up here so we can talk,’ the second one sneered.

The third one said nothing, but even from a
distance
and in the shadow of the pier, Atticus could see its eyes glittering.

Atticus thought about walking away. He’d never worked for a bird before. People: often; dogs:
sometimes
; cats: occasionally; and once a pig who paid him to steal every truffle in Italy – but never a bird! A cat working for a magpie? The idea was
ridiculous
. And yet … Atticus’s curiosity got the better of him again.
What on earth could a bunch of magpies want with him
? He couldn’t resist staying long enough to find out. And if they
were
just messing around, he decided, he could always give them a nasty fright and go and get some fish and chips.

‘Sure,’ he agreed lazily, jumping on to one
slippery
beam and then to the next, balancing effortlessly on the thin edges.

Soon, he reached the ledge where the magpies perched. They had climbed out of the nest to greet him. ‘Well,’ said Atticus, sitting down and popping
out his claws one by one. ‘Here I am.’ He smiled, making sure the birds could see just how sharp and white his teeth were. ‘Now, what do you want?’

When they saw his fangs, the two magpies who had shouted down at Atticus when he was a safe
distance
below – a fat one with ragged tail feathers, and a thin one with a hooked foot – dropped their beaks to their chests and fluttered backwards, away from him. But the other one – who Atticus took to be the boss – stood his ground and looked him straight in the eye.

‘It’s very simple,’ Jimmy Magpie said quietly. ‘We want you to steal all the jewels in Littleton-on-Sea and bring them here to us.’

Slasher nodded. Thug chattered to himself.

Atticus raised a whiskery eyebrow. He’d heard people say that magpies were thieves, but he’d never suspected they could be
this
greedy.
What do they want with all that loot
? he wondered. Most thieves fenced jewels for cash. A few kept the most treasured items for their own use in necklaces (or collars if they were cats or dogs).
But this lot?
They couldn’t use cash and, as far as Atticus knew, birds didn’t do bling.

‘Suppose I agree,’ he said eventually, when the
bird didn’t elaborate. ‘I prefer to go in through cat flaps and open windows. I can’t guarantee I’ll clean the whole town out.’

‘I see …’ Jimmy Magpie blinked at Atticus coldly. ‘Well I think you’ll find my boys can help you get into most places if you can’t manage it.’

‘I don’t want their help,’ Atticus snapped angrily. ‘I’m the best cat burglar in the world, remember?’

There was a tense silence. ‘Very well,’ Jimmy Magpie said finally. ‘We’ll do it your way. We find the houses. You hit them.’

‘What’s in it for me?’ Atticus demanded. He didn’t like the way the magpie did business. Nobody spoke to Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw like that: least of all a bullying bird. He’d almost decided to leave on the next boat.

‘Sardines,’ Jimmy Magpie said, watching Atticus carefully. ‘Four per hit.’

Atticus wavered.
Sardines!
His mouth watered at the thought. He couldn’t resist sardines. ‘Eight,’ he countered.

‘Six,’ the magpie snapped back.

‘Done.’ Sardines were
sardines
. Whatever doubts Atticus
might have had about taking the job he decided to put to one side, for the time being at least. ‘I’ll start tonight.’ He got up to go. ‘By the way,’ he asked as an afterthought, ‘how did you hear about me?’

‘We magpies keep our eyes and ears open.’ Jimmy Magpie shrugged. He looked sharply at Atticus. ‘We’re
everywhere
. And we know
everything
. So don’t try and double-cross us.’

Suddenly Atticus remembered the messenger pigeon. Now he understood why it hadn’t talked. Jimmy and his gang must have terrified it.

‘You don’t frighten me …’ Atticus hissed. ‘And you’d better be careful what you say, or the deal’s off.’ He drew himself up and arched his back. ‘I’ll have you three for lunch before you can say “
feathers
”.’

The two other magpies were trembling, but Jimmy showed no sign of fear. Instead he grinned and held out a claw. ‘No need for that, my friend!’ he cawed slyly. ‘We’re partners now! Come on, boys. Let’s get out the sardines and celebrate.’

Thug and Slasher hopped back into the nest. Atticus heard heaving and panting as they flipped a fish over the edge.

‘I’ll eat alone, thanks,’ Atticus said, catching the
sardine in his teeth and making his way back down to the beach.

‘Suit yourself,’ Jimmy Magpie called after him. ‘Make sure you’re back here tonight at midnight.’

There was no reply. Atticus had gone.

‘Why didn’t you tell him about the antiques fair at Toffly Hall, Boss?’ Slasher asked, peering down.

‘Yeah, that lady in Blossom Crescent said there’d be loads of jewellery there,’ Thug reminded him.

‘And watches,’ Slasher said eagerly. ‘Isn’t that why we hired the cat? To steal things for us?’

‘You keep your beaks shut about that for now,’ Jimmy hissed.

‘Why, Boss?’ Thug’s face was puzzled. ‘I thought the cat was gonna help us.’

‘Help himself more like,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’m not sure I trust Atticus Claw … yet. It didn’t take him long to threaten us, did it?’ Jimmy dipped his head angrily. ‘Typical cat. He thinks he can call all the shots. Doesn’t want to be told what to do by a bird.’

‘We could try and burgle the houses ourselves,’ Slasher suggested.

‘Yeah,’ Thug agreed. ‘Tell Claw we don’t need him.’

Jimmy shook his head impatiently. ‘We can’t break safes. We don’t know how to open cupboards. And we make too much noise – or you two do, anyway.’

Thug and Slasher looked sheepish.

‘We need a pro,’ Jimmy continued. ‘Which means, for the time being at least, we need the cat.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘So let’s keep the antiques fair a secret until we know more about him. See if he delivers on the burglaries or if he tries to double-cross us. In the meantime, you two get up to Toffly Hall and case the joint.’