The Case of the Vanished Sea Dragon (5 page)

‘I do not know,' said Alba.

He licked his finger and dabbed it, inspecting it closely. ‘It's ash,' he announced.

There was a line of ash around the cave. Dirk followed it like a dog following scent.

‘What does it mean?'

The trail led him back to where he had started, as though the outline of ash formed an uneven circle. Then it hit him. He stood up on his hind legs and pushed Alba back.

‘It can't be,' he muttered.

‘Cannot it be what?' said Alba.

The ash had been smudged by their footprints, but the shape was still clear. The head. The wings. The tail. It was the outline of a dragon

‘But no one has seen this in hundreds of year,' said Dirk.

‘Seen what this?' asked Alba. ‘What is it all meaning?'

‘A Sky Dragon has materialised here,' said Dirk.

It was the first Saturday of the summer holiday and, after weeks of gazing out of stuffy classrooms at glorious sunny days, the sky was grey with the promise of rain. As Holly got off the bus the sky kept its promise and large droplets began to fall.

Last month, a few days before the general election, Holly had turned twelve. Predictably both her dad and his wife forgot all about her birthday. To punish them, she had unplugged the phone. Big Hair was furious because they had been expecting an important call, but Holly remembered Dad saying that when he called home he thought no one was in because it rang and rang without being answered.

She wondered whether Dirk might have accidentally done the same and kicked his phone lead out of the socket. He hadn't called back and when she tried calling him his phone rang out. She had resolved to go and visit him instead.

She pressed Mrs Klingerflim's doorbell. While waiting for the old lady to come to the door, she examined her palm. There was no sign of last night's cut.

‘Who is it?' called Mrs Klingerflim.

‘It's me, Holly.'

There was a pause as Mrs Klingerflim fiddled with the countless locks on the door. Eventually, the door opened and her owl-like face appeared. She smiled. ‘Hello, dear. Nice weather for ducks.'

‘Yes.' Holly stepped inside.

‘Mind you, my Ivor used to say that just because ducks like sitting on water, doesn't mean they like it falling on their heads.' She laughed. ‘He'd say, “I like sitting on comfy chairs, but I wouldn't want to get caught in a sofa storm.”'

‘His umbrella would break.' Holly added the punchline, having heard the story a number of times. ‘Is Dirk in?'

‘I don't know, do you want to go and have a look? He was making a terrible racket last night. The
neighbours were complaining.'

Holly took the stairs two at a time and knocked on Dirk's office door. There was no reply, so she entered his office. It was a tip. Dirk didn't have the highest cleaning standards at the best of times but this was more than the usual mess. She noticed the smashed television screen.

Mrs Klingerflim followed her in. ‘Oh dear,' she said.

The rain was coming down so hard outside that it was splashing through the open window, dampening the carpet. Holly closed it. The traffic noises cut out, making the room seem suddenly quiet.

‘I wonder where he's gone,' she said, tidying up the bits of paper from the floor and shifting them into a pile in the corner. She picked up what looked like a black paperweight, then noticed the book. It was red with a white zigzagged line across the front. She opened it up and read the title.

DRAGONLORE
A Scientific Study of Dragons
By Ivor Klingerflim

Dirk had told her about the book, but he hadn't let her look at it, telling her that she knew too much as it was.

Holly flicked through the pages. They were illustrated with line drawings. She turned to the chapter on Tree Dragons and shuddered at the memory of the ones who had almost killed her at Little Hope Village Hall.

‘How long did it take Ivor to write?' she asked.

‘His whole life,' replied Mrs Klingerflim, taking the book from Holly and looking at it fondly. ‘Dragon-spotting requires a great deal of patience. Some people think fishing is boring. It's got nothing on dragon-spotting. Ivor would spend every spare moment camping out in some remote spot. When the children were grown up I'd go with him. Sometimes we would come home after a month having seen nothing. But when you did see one, even just a glimpse, it made it all worthwhile. When you have seen the Desert Dragons of California at dusk … well.'

Mrs Klingerflim stopped to wipe a tear from her eye. She shut the book.

‘Mrs Klingerflim, do you remember when I first came here and said I was Dirk's niece?'

‘That's right. What a dreadful fib,' said the old lady.

‘But if you knew Dirk was a dragon, then you knew I was lying. Why did you let me in?'

‘Ah, well. Dragons aren't the most sociable of
creatures, are they? They don't need friends and family like we do. But do you know, since Mr Dilly has been living amongst us I think he's picked up some of our habits. In a funny way, he's become a bit more human. So I thought he needed a friend, and when you arrived and since you were so clever to track him down, I decided maybe you would make a good friend for him. Oh, look, a note.' Mrs Klingerflim picked up a piece of paper on the desk. She stretched her arm out straight to read it. ‘It's no good,' she said. ‘The writing's too small for my old eyes. What does it say?'

Holly took the note and read it out loud.

Mrs K
Away on case for few days. Will pay rent
when get back,
Dirk
PS Sorry about mess

‘Ah, mystery solved.'

There was an awkward pause while Holly tried not to feel disappointed that he hadn't mentioned her in the note.

The silence was broken by the doorbell.

‘I wonder who that could be?' said Mrs K, heading down the stairs.

Holly put the note back on the desk. She pushed open the window and looked down. There were two men standing on the doorstep; a tall one with a strand of wet hair combed over his head, and a shorter one, whose curly red hair was made even curlier by the rainfall. The tall man took a step back and Holly saw his face.

She ducked back inside and shouted, ‘No, Mrs Klingerflim. Don't answer it.'

She ran to the landing but it was too late. Mrs Klingerflim was already opening the door and saying, ‘What can I do for you two gentlemen?'

‘Ah, yes, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Arthur Holt and this stocky gentleman is my friend and colleague, Mr Reginald Norman. We are two small-scale philanthropists, looking for ways to help the situation of the neighbourhood's elderly and infirm, vis-à-vis, a non-profit-making all-encompassing service provider.'

‘We're odd-job men,' added the other.

The last time Holly had encountered Arthur and Reg, the two crooks were working for the mysterious Vainclaw Grandin, unaware that their boss was in fact a dragon who wanted to conquer and enslave their entire species.

‘Well, my guttering needs looking at. Are you pricey?' said Mrs Klingerflim.

‘Our services are offered for entirely magnanimous reasons,' said Arthur.

‘That means we don't charge,' added Reg.

‘I'm sorry, did you say you don't charge?' asked Mrs Klingerflim.

Holly tugged her sleeve. ‘You can't trust them,' she
said in her ear.

‘What a charming little girl,' said Arthur, smiling at her. ‘Is this your granddaughter?'

‘No one does odd jobs for free,' said Holly. ‘It doesn't make sense.'

‘Your scepticism is misplaced but not entirely without precedence.'

‘Oh yeah,' agreed Reg, nodding. ‘They all think we're animal crackers when we tell them, but it's true. It's something to do with utensils.'

‘What my cuddly companion is trying to say is that Reginald and I are foot soldiers of utilitarianism,' said Arthur.

‘That's the word …You-tell-an-aerial-person?' ventured Reg.

‘U-tili-tar-ian-ism,' repeated Arthur. ‘It's a simple philosophy summed up in the sentiment:
the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people
.'

‘Don't listen. It's a trick,' whispered Holly.

‘My companion and I are trying to give something back to society.'

‘Not that we've taken nothing,' said Reg quickly.

Arthur shook his head solemnly. ‘Oh, Reginald, let us not forget that we have walked in the valley of darkness. We have on occasion stumbled on to the
wrong side of the law. But now we are reborn, reformed and at your service.'

‘Are you selling something?' said the old lady.

Arthur laughed. ‘We are but two men standing in front of one elderly lady asking her if there are any odd jobs that need doing.'

‘We don't want anything from you,' said Holly out loud.

‘Fair enough,' said Arthur, backing away. ‘We understand. Have a good day, the both of you.'

‘And be 'appy,' added Reg.

Mrs Klingerflim closed the door. ‘What a funny todo,' she said.

‘I need to go,' stated Holly.

‘Already? You've only just got here.'

‘Sorry, I've just remembered I need to be somewhere,' she said, thinking it best not to tell Mrs Klingerflim that she was actually off to follow the two crooks.

‘Why don't you hang on to this?' said Mrs K, handing her the red book with the white zigzag across the front. ‘I think you'll find it quite interesting. Don't lose it, mind. It's my only copy.'

‘Thanks, I'll look after it.' Holly slipped the book into her coat pocket, hugged Mrs Klingerflim and left.

The rain had eased off. Arthur and Reg were on the opposite side of the road, knocking on a door. An elderly man answered. Holly couldn't hear what they were saying but it looked like they were giving him the same routine. The old man must have bought it because he invited them in. Holly checked for traffic then crossed the road. Along the side of the house was a path where the residents kept their wheelie bins. The first gate on the right led to the old man's backyard. Holly headed down the path. She heard the back door open and Arthur's voice say, ‘Yes, we are foot soldiers of utilitarianism.'

She peaked through a gap in the wooden fence and saw the crooks walk into the backyard.

‘Well, it's very kind of you to help. I'd have done it myself but a rather nasty hiccupping episode last week brought back an old war wound.'

‘You were in the war? How interesting,' said Arthur. ‘I bet you have lots of stories you'd like to regale us with. We'd love to hear them, wouldn't we, Reg?'

‘If it would make you 'appy to tell us, yeah,' said Reg enthusiastically.

‘How nice,' said the old man. ‘People don't seem so interested in my stories these days. I'll show you my collection of antique weapons if you'd like.'

‘We'd love to see them, as soon as we have cleared up these leaves for you,' said Arthur, smiling.

‘You want them put in bags?' said Reg.

‘Yes, please. Are you sure you don't want paying?'

‘As long as it makes you 'appy, we're 'appy, ain't we, Arthur?'

Arthur nodded. ‘Indeed. Reginald, I will take the burden of holding the bag, while you scoop up the leaves and place them within.'

‘Right-oh,' said Reg.

Holly watched them work, while the old man stood in the doorway. ‘Why did you say you were doing this, then?' he asked.

‘We were once on the wrong side of the law, weren't we, Reg?' said Arthur.

‘That's right. Rotten as a pair of bad bananas,' said Reg.

‘And then we had an awakening.'

‘It was like a miracle, weren't it, Arthur?'

‘A miracle, indeed. I remember standing outside a train station somewhere, Stonegarth, I think it was called, when I felt a sharp slap on my cheek.'