The Four-Fingered Man (7 page)

But it sounded more like they were in on it with Tom. And Mary too.

What could they all be –?

‘And I still can’t believe they made us go through with that whole apology thing!’
Charlie broke in on her thoughts, oblivious. ‘How awkward was that! And anyway, we
were only trying to
help
Miss Ardman!’

‘Oh Charlie, just shut it, will you?’ Amelia snapped, surprising even herself.

‘Fine,’ said Charlie holding up his hands in mock surrender. ‘
Sorry
.’

Amelia hadn’t spoken to Charlie at all at school. She didn’t
avoid
him exactly; it
was just easier to let the Sophies and Shani carry her along with their chatter,
and pretend she couldn’t see Charlie trying to catch her eye. Once he came right
over to where they were sitting, but when Amelia ignored him and Sophie T said in
her coldest voice, ‘Excuse me, Charlie, can we help you?’ he went away and didn’t
try again.

Amelia didn’t feel good about it.

On the other hand, school was the one place she could just sit and think through
what was going on at the hotel without worrying that something
else
was about to
start happening. And even though she knew Charlie wanted to discuss the same thing,
even though he was the only person in the world who could possibly understand what
was going on in her head, Amelia wanted some space to figure it out by herself. After
all, if she couldn’t rely on her parents any more, she might as well get used to
being on her own.

By the time the bell rang for home time, Amelia had gone over the facts about five
hundred times, but they still didn’t make any more sense to her. She had a whole
lot of homework that didn’t make sense to her either (she might not have been listening
very much in class), and Sophie T was a bit distant with her when they said goodbye
to each other at the gate. Amelia got the impression she might have zoned out a few
too many times.

So when she saw Charlie waiting for her by the big tree outside school, she was ready
to talk to him again. She even smiled when the first words out of his mouth were,
‘We really need to figure out the deal with Tom.’

They dawdled along the footpath past the beach, paused for a moment at the Forgotten
Bay Newsagency (which also sold homewares and collected dry-cleaning) while Charlie
bought some liquorice laces, and then headed up the steep hill to the Gateway Hotel
headland. Neither of them could come up with a better theory to explain Tom sneaking
around than Charlie’s original pirate idea.

As they got to the hotel steps, Amelia saw that James was already home. He was sitting
leaning against a pillar, a dazed expression on his face.

‘You’re home early,’ said Amelia.

‘Hm?’ said James. ‘What? Oh, I had a free for last period, so I caught the early
bus.’

Amelia studied him. ‘Are you OK, James? You seem a little …’

‘Huh? Oh, I’m fine.’ He smiled to himself. ‘I’m super.’

He stared dreamily into space, his long arms propped on the points of his knees,
and a strange pink blush passed over his face.

Amelia suddenly recognised the look. ‘James, who’s here?’

The pink blush on James’s face deepened to red. ‘She just walked right past me. Right
there.’ He stroked the step beside him. ‘She said hello.’

‘Who?’ said Charlie, baffled.

James sighed. ‘Lady Naomi.’

Amelia rolled her eyes. ‘Let me guess:
not
a hundred years old?’

‘No …’ James closed his eyes and smiled to himself.

‘Ugh, come on, Charlie.’ Amelia walked into the hotel. James was ridiculous. All
the same, she couldn’t help looking up towards Lady Naomi’s room. She was pretty
curious herself.

But Lady Naomi must have already disappeared into her room, because the only person
around was Miss Ardman. Amelia flinched with embarrassment, but when she saw Miss
Ardman holding her bag at the top of the stairs, Amelia found herself smiling. Simply
remembering the jewels inside gave her a warm feeling.

Without noticing it, she stepped towards the stairs, closer to Miss Ardman.

Miss Ardman smiled nervously and backed away from the gallery railing. ‘Hello, children.’

‘Hello,’ said Amelia.

‘Yeah, hi,’ said Charlie. His voice sounded as happy and dreamy as James’s. As happy
and dreamy as Amelia felt.

They both stepped closer again to the stairs, still smiling up at Miss Ardman. But
Miss Ardman, her eyes widening in alarm, pulled away from the gallery railing and
hurried off to her room. Amelia suddenly felt cold.

‘Overreactor,’ Charlie muttered.

Amelia elbowed him grumpily, and they headed for the kitchen.

‘Hey, kids,’ said Dad, his apron and eyebrows white with flour. ‘Cookie?’

He held up a baking tray of surprisingly tasty-smelling cookies, fresh from the oven.

‘Ooh, yeah!’ said Charlie. His mood shifted quickly in the presence of sugar.

‘Take two,’ said Dad. ‘I’ve got more cooking.’

Amelia looked at the tray. The biscuits were bright orange with green flecks – another
one of Dad’s experiments. She grinned at him in relief. How could any dad so dorky
be up to anything bad? Well, apart from his cooking, of course. The cookies were
bound to be disgusting, but not
evil
.

Overcompensating a bit for her earlier doubts, she bit into a cookie with gusto.
To her utter surprise, it was delicious. ‘Mm, what are they?’

Dad grinned proudly. ‘Guess!’

Amelia chewed, thoughtfully. ‘Carrot?’

‘Pumpkin and tea leaves!’ Dad beamed.

Charlie coughed and spluttered, spraying orange crumbs all over the floor. ‘These
are
healthy
?’

‘They’re great,’ said Amelia. ‘Can I please have another one?’

Dad shoved the cookies at them both, thrilled to have a winner on his hands.

‘We saw James,’ said Amelia, casually. ‘He said he met Lady Naomi.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you meet her too? What’s she like?’

‘Nice,’ said her dad. ‘Sweet. Just like my Dr Walker Pumpkin Tea-Times! Go on, help
yourselves. I know you want to.’

Amelia grinned and grabbed a handful. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

Charlie pulled a face. ‘No thanks, I’m full.’

They walked out to the veranda and Charlie’s eyes suddenly lit up. ‘I nearly forgot
– I’ve got something to show you! Not here, though. C’mon.’

He dragged her to the far end of the hotel, rounding a corner and sitting in a little
nook seat where they were shielded from view on three sides.

‘Check this out.’ He took from his pocket the little cylinder he’d found the day
before, and twisted one of the brass rings. A little light glowed at one end.

‘A torch?’ said Amelia, wondering if they’d finally found something in this place
that was
less
mysterious than it seemed.

But then Charlie twisted the ring again, and the light flared up and opened like
a little fan. The fan stared rotating faster and faster to create a cone of light,
its point spinning on the end of the cylinder, its flat end like a circular platform
a handspan above.

‘Whaaaaaat?’ Amelia peered closer, and Charlie twisted the ring a third time.

Now, on the platform of light, a tiny figure appeared – a man wearing an old-fashioned
coat that reached past his knees. The figure rotated on the platform so they could
see it at all angles.

‘Whoa. Charlie. What
is
that?’

‘I don’t know. This is as far as I got last night before Mum came in and busted me
for not sleeping. A spy communicator, maybe?’

Amelia looked at the little figure. Her stomach gave a sudden jolt. If they could
see the man in the old coat, did that mean he could see them too?

No,
she told herself. The figure on the platform was frozen in place, way too still
to be actually alive.

Amelia shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s a real person. More like a 3D picture
of a person. Can it do anything else?’

‘I’ll try.’ Charlie twisted a different ring, and a burst of light flashed out of
the other end of the cylinder, blinding Amelia for a moment as it blasted straight
into her face.

‘Whoops! Sorry, Amelia.’

She rubbed her face and blinked until her vision came back. ‘What was that?’

‘I don’t know, but look – it’s shut down now.

Or broken.’

‘Weird.’

Charlie shook the cylinder and twisted different rings in various directions and
combinations. Nothing happened.

‘Hey, your dad’s a scientist, right? Have you ever seen anything like this in his
stuff?’

‘No,’ said Amelia. ‘He’s not that type of ...’

She trailed off, the weight dropping back into her stomach. She didn’t
think
this
thing could be anything of Dad’s. Or anything Dad would know about. But if he and
Mum were keeping secrets for Tom, who knew what
else
they were hiding?

‘Do you think he’d be able to figure it out, though?’ Charlie pushed.

‘No,’ said Amelia. Then realising how snappy she’d sounded, she went on, ‘Actually,
James is the one who loves gadgets and puzzles. If you want to ask anyone, you should
–’

‘It’s all right,’ said Charlie, pulling the cylinder closer to him. ‘I’ll keep trying
on my own for a while.’

Amelia looked at the cylinder, her eyes narrowed. There was this thing in science
that Dad always talked about: Occam’s razor. Only it wasn’t really a razor, it was
an idea – a principle. It said that whenever you have a problem that needs explaining,
the simplest solution is usually the right answer.

Right now, the problem was all over the place: weird, suspect Tom; crazy Miss Ardman;
Miss Ardman’s foul tank of bugs on one hand and amazing jewels on the other; Mum,
Dad and Mary all in on some secret Tom knew about … and now this funny little cylinder.
According to Occam’s razor, the right answer should neatly link all those things
into one story. But what on Earth could link those things together?

‘Hey, look,’ said Charlie. He tried the cylinder again, and the light came back on.

‘Maybe it reset,’ said Amelia.

Charlie nodded, and twisted the ring so that the little figure of the man appeared.
So far, so good. He twisted the same ring a fourth time, and this time the man disappeared
but the cone stayed in place. The light kind of blinked as though something was loading,
and then – to Amelia’s utter shock – she was staring at her own face.

She swallowed hard.

‘It’s some kind of camera!’ Charlie crowed. ‘It snapped you while you were looking
at it. A 3D digital camera – awesome!’

Amelia shook her head, spooked. Also, she looked kind of terrible – the light image
showed her scrunching up her nose and frowning. Was that really what she looked like
when she was concentrating?

She turned away in discomfort, but then froze.

She gripped Charlie’s arm and whispered, ‘I heard something.’

They listened together, and Charlie heard it too.

Footsteps.

Slow, careful, creaking footsteps coming from inside the hotel. Right behind them.

Amelia looked at the walls and thought. It must be that set of stairs they’d seen
Tom go down when they’d caught him in the hotel. And they had to come out somewhere
near here.

But who was using them now? And why did they sound so secretive?

Silently, Amelia and Charlie crept along the veranda. The back of the hotel was a
ballroom which opened onto a large, low deck and led down to a lawn and gardens.
It was also completely screened by tall hedges. Anyone coming out this door would
be able to move around the back of the garden almost unseen from any of the hotel’s
windows.

Anyone
, Amelia chided herself. As if she didn’t know who it was.

More footsteps, and then a small door opened next to the wide, glass ballroom doors.

It was Tom.

He limped across the deck, down to the garden, through the bushes and then around
to the other side of the hotel, in the direction of his own cottage. Amelia saw he
was holding a familiar leather bag to his chest. Holding it very tightly, as though
cuddling it more than carrying it.

Breathlessly, Amelia and Charlie watched Tom scuttle down the hillside, moving faster
than she’d ever seen him move before. Not quite running, but a hurrying, half-skipping
urgency, almost as though Tom was … excited. Amelia thought about how she would feel
to have all of those jewels wrapped up in her arms, all warm and golden and close
to her heart, and she felt a deep, jealous anger towards Tom.

‘That creep,’ Charlie hissed beside her.

The two of them, without needing to discuss it, had set off across the veranda to
follow Tom when another sound gave them pause. Not footsteps this time, but a low,
bloodcurdling wail of despair.

And it was coming from right behind them.