Smugglers! Page 7

  ‘It’s okay.’ I took a sip of my drink. Gran liked green tea too. When I first tasted it I’d thought it was bitter, but now I quite liked it. I decided to broach the subject of smugglers and see if Marissa acted guiltily in any way. ‘Max and I found some real smugglers’ caves the other day.’

  ‘Did you? How fascinating. Of course, a lot of smuggling used to go on around here, didn’t it?’

  I looked her straight in the face. ‘Do you think smugglers still use the caves? Smuggling still goes on today, doesn’t it?’

  She paused for a moment. ‘Yes it does, but I believe most smuggling is done by plane and car now. There aren’t any smugglers like in the olden days, Amy.’ She smiled again. Marissa smiled a lot. ‘Now, have you found anything for your mum?’

  I shook my head. ‘I mean, you’ve got lots of nice stuff, but I wanted something really special …’

  ‘Well, I have deliveries quite regularly so keep popping in and you might find something. Or, if you think of something your mum would like, I’ll try and get it for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Well, Marissa hadn’t acted guilty at all, and I’d found nothing suspicious in her shop, I thought, as I walked home. I was still no nearer to finding the smuggler.

  The trouble was, I didn’t really know what I was looking for. All the other crimes I’d solved had been pretty straightforward. Fluffy had gone missing, so I had to find her. I suspected someone was sabotaging Old Joe’s cottage, so I set out to find out who it was. All I had to go on with this case was a flashing light and a string of what could just be coincidences.

  Chapter 13

  A Clue

  ‘I’d like you to come to a car boot sale with me today,’ Gran said, when we were eating breakfast. ‘I’m hoping to find something to add to my “egg” collection.’

  Gran collected these fancy decorated eggs, which open up and have jewels and stuff stuck all over them. She had about a dozen already in a glass case in the private lounge and was always on the lookout for more.

  ‘I’ve got something planned actually …’ I told her.

  ‘Well, you can unplan it,’ Gran said, firmly. ‘I bet it’s only something to do with this ridiculous smuggling notion you have. It will do you good to come out with me for the day.’

  There was no arguing with Gran when her mind was made up, so I just shrugged my shoulders and went to get ready. A break from this investigating might help clear my mind. I made sure I slipped my micro-recorder in my pocket though, just in case.

  I’d never been to a car boot sale before, but Gran and Mr Winkleberry often went to them. From what I could gather, people didn’t actually sell ‘car boots’ (as I first thought), but put all sorts of stuff in their car boots for people to buy. Gran said that sometimes you could find something really valuable going for a few pounds, but other times it was all just rubbish. Anyway, Mr Winkleberry and Gran didn’t seem to be speaking, which is why Gran wanted me to come with her – I think she was a bit miffed about all the attention Miss Pearce was paying Mr W and how he was lapping it up.

  I can’t say that browsing through other people’s junk is my idea of fun, but Gran seemed to be enjoying herself. Some people had tables of stuff by their cars too, and Gran spent so long at one table that I wandered off. As I was getting myself an ice cream, who did I see selling a load of stuff from the back of a white van? Sid the Sniff. Boy, was I glad Gran had persuaded me to come with her now!

  Sid hadn’t seen me, so I quickly ducked behind the car next to the van and kept him under surveillance. From what I could see, the stuff he was selling was mainly clothes and household equipment. Nothing suspicious about that. But, what about the parcel he’d given to Mr Hodgkin and the cheap perfume Max’s sister had bought from him?

  ‘Hey, Sid!’ a dark-skinned man shouted, walking over to the van.

  Sid glanced around furtively, put his finger to his lips and beckoned the man over.

  Now, this looked suspicious. Thank goodness I’d brought my micro-recorder with me. I got as close as I could, switched it on and listened intently:

  PODCAST 3

  Go to www.amycartermysteries.com/smugglers-3

  The man nodded and walked off.

  I almost bounced up and down with excitement. I’d got him! I’d nailed my smuggler! Sid sold smuggled tobacco and was getting more supplies this weekend. All I had to do was wait for the flashing light signal and I had him. Wait until I told Max!

  ‘What are you doing on the floor, Amy?’ Gran asked, coming up behind me. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  ‘Er … I had something in my shoe.’ I stood up quickly. ‘Have you found an egg?’

  ‘No, but I did find a lovely vase.’ She held out a bulging carrier bag. ‘Do you want to go home now? There isn’t really much here. We can stop off at a coffee shop for a snack, if you want.’

  I nodded. ‘Thanks, Gran.’

  Actually, it had been a very successful day, I congratulated myself, as Gran pulled up outside the house. I now knew who the smuggler was, and Gran was happy because she had a new vase. I’d taken a peep at it on the way home and I can’t say I was very impressed, but hey, as long as Gran liked it.

  As soon as I got to the front gate I heard a commotion going on inside the house. I got to the door before Gran so unlocked it. As I stepped inside I saw Fluffy hurtling down the stairs with something pink dangling from her mouth.

  ‘Come back here you little scoundrel …,’ Miss Pearce screeched.

  Fluffy carried on running, almost knocking Gran over as she walked in behind me.

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ Gran asked.

  ‘I’ll kill that ghastly dog when I get hold of her!’ screamed Miss Pearce, swearing at Fluffy as she ran down the stairs in a very unladylike fashion. She was wearing a blue ‘designer wrap’, but her hair was wet and was clinging to her face, which was devoid of make-up. She didn’t look – or sound – so glam now I thought with a grin.

  ‘Good heavens, what is all this shouting and swearing, Miss Pearce?’ Mr Winkleberry came out of the guest lounge looking quite shocked. He peered disapprovingly over his glasses at Miss Pearce, his left eye twitching agitatedly.

  ‘Oh, stop looking so pompous and help me catch that blasted dog. She’s run off with one of my designer tops. If it’s damaged I will expect full compensation!’

  Fluffy was bounding across the hall towards the kitchen. I chased after her. I wanted to get that top off her before Miss Pearce did to see if it really was a designer one.

  ‘Here, Fluffy. Come here, girl!’ I cooed, creeping towards her. Fluffy dived into her basket, the pink top still hanging out of her mouth.

  I took one of her favourite doggy treats out of the cupboard under the sink and held it out to her. ‘Here you are, Fluffy.’

  Fluffy dropped the top and grabbed the treat. I picked up the top and inspected it. It seemed genuine enough. There was a top designer label inside, and I couldn’t find any faults in it, apart from the slight damage Fluffy had caused.

  ‘Would you mind giving that to me, young lady?’ Miss Pearce snatched the top out of my hand. ‘Just look at it! It’s covered in dog slobber and there are teeth marks all over it!’ She swore again.

  ‘Really, there’s no need for that,’ Gran protested.

  ‘Oh don’t act all hoity-toity with me! You wouldn’t know what quality was, you and your high-street shop clothes. Why, you can’t even pencil your eyebrows on properly!’

  Gran blanched. I felt terrible. I’d been meaning to tell Gran about her eyebrows for ages; she had a habit of pencilling in one higher than the other.

  Mr W bristled with anger. ‘Now, look here, Miss Pearce! You can’t go around talking to Sue … Mrs Carter … like that. She’s more of a lady than you’ll ever be!’

  ‘I think it’s best if you leave,
Miss Pearce,’ Gran said, stiffly. ‘I’m not prepared to have my guests insulting me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve no intention of staying here a moment longer. And you can forget about the bill. Your dog has ruined a very expensive top of mine, so I’ll be sending you a bill. You can deduct the cost of my board from it.’

  She flounced upstairs, making sure she stamped on every step as she went.

  ‘How childish!’ Mr W said, crossly.

  Gran rushed over to the mirror and studied her eyebrows. ‘One is higher than the other, isn’t it?’ she asked, sadly. ‘Are they always like that?’

  Mr Winkleberry put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Of course not. Anyway, you can hardly notice it. Don’t let that uncouth woman upset you. You’re well rid of her.’

  I was relieved that Gran and Mr W were friends again. I’d discovered over the last few days that it was even worse when they fell out than when they were acting all mushy.

  Half an hour later Miss Pearce had packed and gone. Well, I guess that’s one suspect eliminated, I thought. Although I was pretty sure I knew who the Little Cragg smuggler was now. All I had to do was nail him. I figured the smuggler and his accomplices would arrive on Sunday night, as they did last week. Well, I’d be ready for them.

  Chapter 14

  Another Signal

  It took me a while to get to sleep that night. My mind was racing from all the stuff that had happened and I tossed and turned for ages. I’d just managed to drop off when my cellphone rang. I took it from under my pillow and checked the screen. Max. I looked at the time. One thirty. What was he doing awake at this time of night, never mind phoning me? I answered it. ‘This had better be good.’

  ‘Look out the window; there’s a light flashing.’

  ‘What?’ I scrambled out of bed and dashed over to the window. Sure enough, there was a light flashing from the direction of the beach, just like I’d seen on Sunday night. And, at exactly the same time too! It was the smuggler again!

  ‘I’m going down to investigate,’ I said, reaching out to grab my jeans from the chair beside my bed.

  ‘I’m coming too …’

  ‘NO YOU ARE NOT!’ I shouted down the phone, before realising I didn’t want to wake Gran and Mr Winkleberry up again. ‘You stay here. You’re just a kid. You hear me?’ I whispered.

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts. I’ve got enough to deal with trying to catch the smugglers, never mind watching over you. Besides, I need you here. If you don’t hear from me within an hour, you call the police and tell them what’s happened. Got it?’

  ‘Okay.’ He didn’t sound too pleased. ‘You be careful, right?’

  ‘I will.’

  I pulled on my black jeans, then reached for a black hoody. It was always chilly at night and the hood would come in useful if I needed to disguise myself (and black would mean I wouldn’t get spotted easily). I crept down the stairs and went out of the front door, closing it quietly behind me.

  The street was deserted. I heard a tap as I passed Max’s house and glanced up to see him waving out of his bedroom window at me. I waved back, then hurried down the hill towards the beach.

  I was nervous. No use pretending I wasn’t. I was on my own against a bunch of smugglers. I wasn’t planning on playing the hero though – I had my cellphone, my micro-recorder and a penlight. All I wanted to do was get enough evidence to nail them and then come home. I could show all the evidence to PC Lambard tomorrow, and he could arrest the smuggler. Or smugglers.

  A gang of youths were gathered around the harbour, drinking out of bottles. They didn’t seem to have noticed me, so I pulled my hood up, kept to the other side of the road and hurried past without glancing at them. My pulse was racing. I must be mad coming out alone at this time of night. I hadn’t really stopped to consider the danger. Thank goodness I’d insisted that Max didn’t come with me.

  Luckily, I reached Smugglers’ Bay without any incident. I peered over the wall at the beach below. The almost full moon and scattering of stars in the sky provided enough light for me to see that it was deserted. Smugglers’ Bay wasn’t visible from up here, of course, but I could make out the shape of a big boat floating out at sea around the bay area. It didn’t seem to be going anywhere in a hurry. I wondered if it was the smugglers.

  I carefully descended the broken stone steps, glad that I was wearing black so I wouldn’t be visible from the boat, and then ran across the sand to the secret cove, keeping close to the rocks for cover. When the rocks got small enough I peeped over to see if anyone was there and had to put a hand over my mouth to stop myself from gasping out loud. A rowing boat was moored on the sand, and a shadowy figure was taking crates out of the boat, while two others were carrying crates over to the cave.

  Smugglers!

  I watched as the figures came back out of the cave empty-handed, got into the small boat and rowed over to the big boat out at sea. I guessed they’d hidden the crates in the secret cave, ready for the Little Cragg smuggler to collect. It had to be Sid the Sniff. He’d said he was getting more supplies this weekend. Would he climb down through the manhole on the cliffs, I wondered, or come down to the beach to collect the goods? I figured he would probably use the cliff route – he had less chance of being spotted that way. It was too clumsy and risky to carry the illegal cargo up to the main road and put it in his van. He’d need an accomplice too. Those crates were far too big to carry by himself, and there’s no way he could climb up the wall with them. Maybe the accomplice would climb down into the cave, tie a rope to the crates and Sid would pull them up?

  So, if I wanted to find out what was in those crates, I needed to do it now, before Sid and his accomplice came to collect them.

  I waited until the rowing boat had almost reached the big boat out at sea, then climbed over the rocks and raced across the sand to the cave.

  It was nerve-racking, I can tell you. I kept glancing over my shoulder, hoping that none of the people in the rowing boat were looking my way, not that I could tell in the dark, which hopefully meant that they couldn’t see me either.

  It was pitch black inside the cave. I longed to use the penlight in my pocket, but I was scared that they’d be able to see its beam from the boat, so I fumbled my way, not taking out my penlight until I was sure I was well away from the entrance. Even then, I only turned it to half-beam, just enough to see where I was going.

  I made my way over to the rocky ledge that led to the secret tunnel, pausing when I saw some dark shapes on the ground beside it. I shone my penlight over them and saw that they were crates. How stupid of the smugglers to leave them there! The tide would come in sometime in the night and then they’d all get soaking wet.

  Unless they had gone to fetch another boatload of crates and intended to move them up to the top cave when they unloaded them all. Which meant I had to be quick if I wanted to find out what was inside the crates.

  I remembered that there were some big boulders at the back of the cave, so I could hide behind them until the smugglers had gone. I beamed the penlight on the back of the cave until I located the boulders, made a mental note of their position and then turned my attention back to the crates. What was in them?

  I turned the beam up a bit and shone it on the nearest crate, searching all over it. I couldn’t see any writing, but there was an open padlock dangling from the lid. Now, I could find out what the smuggled goods were. I lifted up the lid and shone the light inside.

  It was empty.

  ‘Well, it looks like we’ve got ourselves a nosy kid here,’ a voice said from behind me. Before I could turn around, a hand slammed into my back, pushing me into the crate and then crashing the lid down on top of me. I was trapped.

  Chapter 15

  Prisoner

  It was dark inside the crate and cramped. I couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. A fountain of panic welled inside
me, threatening to burst any second into a gush of petrified screams. I was a prisoner. Completely at the mercy of the smugglers.

  What were they going to do to me?

  I should never have come here alone. I should have thought it through more. Or, waited until the boats had gone, making sure the coast was clear.

  Sweat was pouring off my forehead, but I could barely move my arms to wipe it off. My breathing was ragged. Painful. Deep, anguished breaths desperately sucking at the limited air, swallowing it up. I felt tears prick my eyes and a lump form in my throat. This was it, I was going to die.

  Stop it! I told myself. Get a grip. There’s always a way out of a situation if you look for it. How many times had Vince told that to Mac?

  But, that was just a TV programme. This was real life and I was in serious danger.

  Well, panicking won’t help you get out of it, I thought. I forced myself to calm down. To breathe slowly and deeply.

  As I calmed down I realised that I could actually breathe fine, so the crate wasn’t airless. Perhaps that meant the lid wasn’t completely sealed. I shuffled around a bit so that I could move my arms. Then, I pushed the lid, which gave a tiny bit, then stopped. The smugglers must have padlocked it.

  I heard a murmur of voices and strained my ears, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I wasn’t even sure it was English. Then, suddenly, my crate was lifted up and I felt myself moving. I was being carried somewhere.

  Where were they taking me?

  Anger kicked in. I wasn’t just going to sit there and take this meekly. These creeps obviously had plans for me, and somehow I didn’t reckon my personal safety rated highly on their list. I had nothing to lose by going down fighting.

  I hammered on the lid with my fists. ‘Help! Let me out!’ I yelled, at the top of my voice. ‘The police know I’m here. They’ll be coming any minute!’