Mystery & Mayhem. Julia Golding

RAIN ON MY PARADE

       By Elen Caldecott

      It felt just like mini sparklers were fizzing in Minnie Adesina’s arms and legs and elbows and knees. She couldn’t stay in her flat above Mum’s salon on Marsh Road, not with fireworks exploding from her fingers to her feet! Today was Carnival! Car-ni-val. She drawled the word slowly, the way Bernice, one of Mum’s assistants, did in her Kingston accent. Those three syllables turned the road upside-down and left-side-right every year. The regular market was swept away by a swell of sound and colour. She rushed downstairs, ready to see it all.

      It was still early, the summer sun hardly heating the ground, but already the street was full. People in high-vis jackets swung barriers like giant paddles; food vans’ fried onions and spices made her mouth water. At the end of the road, a camera crew and technicians swarmed a temporary stage, tweaking the spotlights on the lighting rig, adjusting the legs of tripods and moving monitors. That would be where the bands played into the evening. But already there was music. From speaker stacks the size of cars, from tiny portable radios, from everywhere, rhythms that made her shoulders leap and roll throbbed and thrummed. Marsh Road was alive with it all.

      ‘Minnie!’

      Flora, one of Minnie’s very best friends, hurtled down the street towards her and grabbed her elbows. Minnie and Flora were part of an investigating team who’d solved more than one mystery on Marsh Road, and seeing her always meant fun and excitement. Then Minnie noticed Flora’s twin, Sylvie, strolling behind. Minnie sighed. Sunny days came with shadows. She smiled at one half of the twins.

      ‘Isn’t this exciting?’ Flora asked, her red hair bouncing as she leapt up and down. ‘I can’t believe Bernice wants us to help her get ready! We’re going to be right at the heart of Carnival this year, with one of its very best costume makers.’

      Minnie glanced at Sylvie. She hadn’t been part of the plan.

      Flora noticed the look, but Sylvie was too busy smiling at the camera crew.

      ‘Is it all right if Sylvie comes too?’ Flora ground the tip of her trainer into the pavement. ‘She didn’t want to be left out.’

      Sylvie never wanted to be left out. And she was often loud and pushy enough that it was impossible to ignore her. Sylvie even helped with the Marsh Road Investigators’ cases, when it suited her.

      But today was too nice a day to make trouble. Minnie sighed. ‘You can both come. More hands make light work, Mum always says.’

      ‘Girls!’ The word was yelled so loud that it made a man carrying a barrier drop it on his foot and swear. ‘Girls!’ Bernice waved with both hands. She looked amazing – she must have been up before the sun to do her hair; it was teased into a huge pile on her head, streaked red, yellow and green with extensions. Her gold nails sparkled as she waved. She pulled Minnie into a tight hug. ‘I’ve got an extra helper, have I? Good. My costume is the best yet, like a parrot fought a glitter factory and won. Today you three are my right-hand girls. Come on, the dress is waiting at the lock-up.’

      The lock-ups were down a narrow footpath behind Marsh Road, under the railway tracks. A span of arches had doors set into them, creating workshops and storage spaces, vaults of red brick. As they walked, Bernice kept up an excited commentary. ‘Mind your step, this part is a bit overgrown. Careful of the nettles. I’ve been working on this costume for a month now, every spare minute I get. It’s going to knock the shoes and socks off everyone! Ooh, wasp. I don’t like this path, but the lock-up is so cheap, and it’s dark and cool, perfect for storing costumes. No one can even peek inside. Watch out, this bit’s muddy.’

      Finally they were in front of Bernice’s lock-up. The smartly painted blue door, with a polished letter box, was padlocked shut.

      Bernice took out a key.

      She turned it in the lock.

      The door swung inward. Minnie caught a scent like charring before Bernice flicked on the light.

      ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Oh no!’

      Minnie ducked through the small doorway, the twins clambering after her. ‘Bernice? What is it?’

      With one look it was obvious what was wrong.

      Standing on a dressmaker’s dummy in the middle of the space was the ruin of Bernice’s costume. The base layer of Lycra was in place, but the tatter of feathers surrounding it was hideous. The spines were bald without their fluff, the broken quills ugly as road kill. Whatever had happened to the costume had taken all its grace and beauty and left behind a horror.

      ‘My costume,’ Bernice whispered. She stepped forward robotically. As she reached to touch the few remaining feathers, they crumbled to dust under the pads of her fingers. Brittle pieces flaked to the ground.

      Minnie stepped further into the room, with the twins close behind her. They moved slowly, the way hospital visitors might walk into an intensive care ward.

      But it was too late for the costume. It was already dead.

      ‘What happened to it?’ Sylvie asked. ‘It’s awful.’

      ‘I . . . I . . . don’t . . .’

      Minnie glared at Sylvie. ‘Bernice, I think you need to sit down. Here.’ Minnie grabbed a wheeled chair from beside the desk and pushed it towards Bernice.

      ‘Wait!’ Flora said suddenly. ‘We shouldn’t move anything.’

      Minnie froze. Her hands tightened on the back of the chair. Was Flora suggesting what she thought she was suggesting? ‘You think this is a crime scene?’ Minnie whispered. Could this be a case for the Marsh Road Investigators?

      Flora gave a firm nod. ‘Bernice, the costume didn’t look this way when you last saw it?’

      Bernice shook her head, whipping her extensions back and forth. ‘No – no way. It was fine last night.’

      ‘And could this have happened by accident?’

      Again, Bernice shook her head. ‘No, child. The temperature is just right. The place is kept dark. There are no insects, or mice, no chemicals or anything that could do this damage. This is no accident.’ Her eyes widened as she realised what she was saying. ‘Someone did this on purpose! Someone doesn’t want me to walk in Carnival!’

      ‘Who?’ said Sylvie.

      ‘How ?’ said Flora.

      Minnie saw exactly what Flora meant. There were no windows in the lock-up at all. The door was the only way in, and it had definitely been locked.

      ‘Bernice, who else has a key to the padlock?’ Flora asked.

      ‘No one. There’s only one key and I’ve had it safe in my purse all night.’

      Minnie watched as Flora did what she always thought was one of the most exciting things in the world. She opened her ever-present backpack and took out a pen and a notebook. It was the signal that they were about to begin a new case. They had investigated several crimes before now, and each time the details went into Flora’s notebook – every clue, every witness statement, everything – until there was enough information to help them catch