Sewer Mayhem Read online

  ‘Are you sure it was the Three Bambini?’ Vinnie said.

  Curtis nodded. ‘It was them alright. They arrived under the cover of darkness and kidnapped Timmy, the son of our leader Nigel. They threatened to take him back to Hull, if Nigel didn’t surrender his territory to them immediately.’ He looked down at his paws. ‘Of course, when Nigel gave up his territory, they still held Timmy captive.’

  ‘How many rats are there in Pocklington?’ I said. ‘Why couldn’t you group together and rescue Timmy?’

  ‘Before we knew it the Bambini had organised reinforcements and were keeping us guarded in our own digs. I only escaped because I wasn’t in my digs when it happened. I sneaked around for a day, trying to find out about their plans.’ Curtis pointed at Gus and Leo. ‘That’s when I heard they planned a trip to come to York, visit the family.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Gus’ whiskers drooped and he sagged to the ground. ‘That means us.’

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘You’re family of the Hull Mob?’

  Leo nodded. He had shrunk into a tiny ball of fur. ‘If the Three Bambini are on their way here, that means that Auntie Gabriella wasn’t able to keep them on the straight and narrow again.’

  Gus trembled. ‘They’re going to want to take what’s ours. Just like when we were little.’ He paced up and down a bit. Then he looked at the opening of his digs.

  ‘Argg! My treasure!’ He ran inside, fur all on end.

  ‘Did they actually say that they were coming to York?’ Vinnie said. He looked at Curtis. ‘Or were they just planning it?’

  ‘It sounded like they were planning it,’ Curtis said. ‘So if they get distracted, or find too much to their liking in Pocklington, they might never make it this far north.’ He’d a hopeful tone in his voice.

  Johnny shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps they don’t, but we can’t take the chance. Let’s hope for the best, but be vigilant.’ He turned around. ‘We’d better go and tell the news in Ratville.’

  ‘I hope your family in Pocklington is okay, Curtis,’ I said as the two rats walked away.

  Curtis turned around. ‘I’m lucky. All my family lives in Ratville.’

  We watched their retreating tails in silence.

  ‘I feel sick,’ Leo said. His nose was on the ground and his whiskers drooped. ‘Our cousins hate us. Suppose they really do come? They might kill us all!’

  ‘Let’s not overreact,’ I said. ‘As Curtis said, they might never make it this far north.’

  Gus bolted out of the digs, nearly overrunning me. He had put more rings around his tail and one on each of his ears. He also dragged a gold watch behind him.

  ‘I need to hide my treasure somewhere else,’ he said, frantically looking about him. ‘Or the Bambini will steal it!’

  ‘They’re not here yet!’ I said exasperated, holding Gus by the tail to stop him jumping across the sewer. ‘To be honest, I would be far more worried about the alligator egg than some rats that might never even get here!’ I had no idea why I said that, but collectively we looked at the egg, still stuck to the roof further up the sewer.

  ‘Paddy’s right,’ Vinnie said. ‘Well… about the rats, not the egg.’ He gently pushed Gus back towards his digs. ‘Let’s stay calm and not worry about the Mob now. We’ll have something to eat.’

  Leo’s ear perked up a bit. ‘What have you got?’

  I threw another glance at the egg just before I went into the digs. Had it actually grown since last night?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dave Dawson twirled his pint of beer around on its coaster. ‘So you’re saying that you don’t want to solve this murder?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t.’ Jacob looked at his friend as they sat at their customary corner of the bar in the Fox & Glove pub. ‘Why would I?’

  Dave shrugged. ‘Well, you did in the spring with the allotment murders.’

  ‘I was falsely accused of being the murderer! I had no choice but to prove them wrong.’

  ‘I guess you’re right.’ Dave took a sip of his pint. ‘In any case, I hope this whole new murder is not throwing a spanner in the works for tomorrow’s camera survey of the sewers. I need to be seen to do something otherwise Peggy will have me for dinner over this sewer smell of hers.’

  Jacob couldn’t repress a smile. ‘She will indeed. But truth be told, the smell is pretty bad at Posh Nosh.’

  ‘Not just at Posh Nosh.’ Dave sighed. ‘The whole lower part of Woolaston Road reeks of it, and I have no idea where it’s coming from.’

  ‘The joy of being the neighbourhood warden.’

  ‘Tell me about it. And now that parts of Woolaston Road are still a crime scene, I don’t know how McDermott will react to another blockage of the road.’

  ‘What would it be to him?’ Jacob said. ‘Besides, on Sunday morning there shouldn’t be too much traffic.’

  Peggy entered the pub and made a beeline for the two men on the corner. ‘I thought I’d find you here, brother dear.’ She looked at Dave. ‘Please tell me that the camera survey will go ahead tomorrow.’

  ‘Of course it will, Peggy,’ Dave said. He pulled out a bar stool. ‘Take a seat.’

  Peggy ignored him. ‘You do realise that the whole of ASBOW is counting on this survey to find a solution to the sewer smell.’

  ‘The whole of ASBOW?’

  ‘Well, at least those association members with shops at the bottom end of Woolaston Road.’ Peggy threw a quick glance over her shoulder and leaned closer to the two men. ‘Those ones on the top part couldn’t care less.’

  ‘Like Spencer Peacock, you mean.’

  Peggy looked down at her hands. ‘Spencer’s very enthusiastic about this competition, and so were the majority of the other association members during our last meeting.’

  ‘Sounds like Spencer Peacock has you all wrapped around his little finger,’ Jacob blurted out before he’d realised what he’d said.

  Peggy gave him an icy glared. ‘If during a vote most of the members are in favour, there’s not much one can do about it.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. You’re right.’ Jacob’s cheeks burned and he stared at the corner of the bar.

  ‘I expect swift results from the survey,’ Peggy said with a glare at Dave, then turned on her heel and left.

  Dave caught Jacob’s eye and smirked. ‘Sounds like she’s got you firmly reined in.’

  ‘Rubbish.’ Jacob took his pint and downed what was left of it in one go. ‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

  Dave smiled. ‘I never said she was.’

  Luckily for Jacob, Abe Monday took that moment to materialise beside them and take a seat on the spare bar stool. He gestured at Fred the landlord for a pint.

  ‘There he is, the newly appointed Detective Constable,’ Dave said. ‘What is it like to work with McDermott?’

  Abe grimaced. ‘He takes some getting used to, but I’ve had worst bosses.’ He took the pint Fred put in front of him and gulped some to the contents down his throat.

  ‘So what’s the lowdown on the murder then?’ Dave said. ‘Has McDermott got it all wrapped up yet?’

  Abe nodded. ‘He thinks so, anyway.’ He leaned in. ‘McDermott is certain that it’s a burglary gone wrong. It seems that the time of death was between six and eight on Friday evening. Interesting thing is that the shop wasn’t actually broken into. The front door was undamaged, and apparently unlocked. So it looks like the burglar just walked in, saw no one in the shop, took his chance and was surprised by Nate. No fingerprints on the murder weapon unfortunately.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense at all,’ Jacob said. ‘It’s mid-July. There’s still plenty of light between six and eight pm. Why would anyone take the risk to burgle a shop in daylight?’

  Abe shrugged. ‘I was wondering that myself, but McDermott seems convinced. So we’re looking for the burglar.’ He took a sip of his pint. ‘Anyway, this whole case is a bit freaky to me. I went to school with Nate when we were young.’

  ‘You did?’


  ‘Yeah. Primary and secondary school. I was a bit surprised to hear that he joined his father’s business, as in school he wasn’t interested in the shop at all.’

  ‘Priorities change, I guess,’ Jacob said. ‘Did you keep in contact with him after school?’

  ‘No. In school we weren’t really friends and we lost sight of each other during sixth form and college.’

  They stared at the TV-screen. The darts was on.

  ‘Wouldn’t it have been funny if Jacob had taught you in school, Abe?’ Dave said. ‘Then he could entertain us with all your teenage mishaps and secrets.’

  Abe smiled. ‘Very glad that he didn’t.’ He put his empty glass on the bar. ‘I’d better go. Have to get up early tomorrow.’ He waved his hand and walked to the door.

  ‘I’d better get a move on soon as well,’ Dave said. ‘What with the big sewer project tomorrow.’

  Jacob nodded.

  ‘What about your project?’ Dave continued. ‘I haven’t heard you talk about it for a while.’

  ‘You haven’t?’ Jacob looked at his friend. ‘It’s going pretty well actually. I’m about to do a test to see if the computer is capable of filtering results when I feed it one specific word. In this case “tricycle”. By isolating one word, it might be possible to get more specific results when calculating the different scenarios of what could have happened to Robbie.’

  Dave stared at Jacob. ‘I’m sorry, but even after hearing you talk about it for years, I still don’t understand how this could work.’

  ‘It’s a bit like with DNA. A certain sequence belongs to a certain person. If I can get the computer to isolate a sequence of events, I could get closer to the answer.’

  ‘But there isn’t any DNA.’

  Jacob shook his head. ‘It’s not about the DNA, Dave. That was just an example of how filtering a sequence can work to get results.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I still can’t see how this is going to work.’ Dave smiled. ‘You’re too clever for me, you know that. Always were.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s true.’ Jacob smiled. ‘In any case, it’s just a test. If it doesn’t work, I will have to dig deeper.’

  Dave got off from his bar stool and clapped Jacob on the shoulder. ‘In the meantime, let’s see if I can solve the sewer mystery.’

  * * *

  29 March 1972

  The alleyway was eerily quiet. Unlike the day before, when everyone had been frantically running around, looking for Robbie, a silence had now come over the neighbourhood. As if everyone was holding their breath.

  The weather wasn’t cooperating either. A blanket of low grey clouds had settled itself above Milbury, making it gloomy, even though it was the middle of the day.

  ‘Come on, hurry up!’ Jacob pulled his socks up to his knees to make them reach the bottom of the old-fashioned knee-length shorts that were a hand-me-down of one of his older cousins. Perhaps he could stay warm that way. He gestured at Dave to stop dragging his feet and follow him across Lower Tile Street into another alleyway. ‘We must find the tricycle.’

  ‘Jacob, wait.’ Dave’s face was pale, dark circles under his eyes. ‘There’s no point. Why would we be able to find the tricycle? We couldn’t find Robbie.’

  Jacob walked back to his friend. ‘That was yesterday. The tricycle might be easier to find.’ He grabbed Dave by the arm and dragged him into the alleyway. ‘You take that side, I’ll take this.’

  Walking towards the five-foot-high brick wall that separated the back gardens of the houses on Lower Tile Street from the alleyway, he opened one of the doors set into the wall. It led into a back garden. Covered entirely by concrete, it was actually more of a yard. A quick look showed him that the only thing in it was a washing line spun between the brick wall and the back of the house. No sign of the red tricycle here.

  He closed the door behind him and ran to the next door. Opening it revealed another concrete backyard, but this one had two overflowing dustbins in a corner. Jacob made his way into the yard and checked behind the bins. Nothing. Perhaps inside them. He opened the lid of one of the bins. A cloud of flies suddenly engulfed him, together with the sickening smell of rotting food.

  One of the flies flew into his mouth. Sputtering, he dropped the lid and made his way back to the alleyway. The bins were too small to hold the tricycle anyway, or Robbie for that matter.

  Jacob looked down the alleyway and saw that Dave hadn’t moved. ‘Why aren’t you looking?’

  ‘I don’t want to do this any more.’

  ‘But why not? Robbie was riding the tricycle the last time we saw him. If we find it, we might find him.’ And feel less guilty about leaving him behind on his own, Jacob added silently to himself. Why hadn’t he listened to his mother and kept an eye on Robbie as she told them to do?

  Dave looked at the ground. ‘We should never have left him on his own.’ His voice trembled. ‘It really is our fault.’

  ‘We have to keep looking.’ Jacob grabbed Dave by the arm again. ‘We have no choice.’

  Together the two boys continued checking all the yards in the alleyway. There was no sign of Dave’s four-year-old little brother or his tricycle anywhere.

  Back on Lower Tile Street Jacob pointed to the next alleyway. ‘Let’s check that one.’ He walked along the row of terraced houses, but soon noticed that Dave wasn’t following him.

  ‘I’m not doing it any more,’ Dave said. ‘I want to go home.’ He rubbed his arms and shivered.

  ‘But why not?’ Jacob swallowed. ‘I don’t understand. Don’t you want to find Robbie?’

  Dave’s face crumpled as he started to cry. He turned around and ran down Lower Tile Street.

  Jacob watched as his friend disappeared into his house. Well, if Dave didn’t want to keep looking, he did! He ran towards the next alleyway and started opening doors again. He had to find Robbie! How else was he ever going to get some sleep again?

  * * *

  Present Day

  What?!? No, couldn’t be! Where was his loot? Willy-nilly, Ricky shone down his flashlight into the depths of the sewer, only to see the light bouncing off brick walls and an empty circle of concrete at the bottom. His heart was beating like mad and his stomach had clenched itself into a ball. Where did his frigging backpack go? It should have been waiting for him at the bottom of this manhole. He peered down the dark hole again. Wait… Did he have the right manhole?

  Ricky got up from his crouched position in the middle of Woolaston Road and looked the street up and down. No, the manholes were too far apart. This was definitely the right one.

  He shone his flashlight down the hole again. His palms had become sweaty and it nearly slipped from his hand. Should he go down and have a look? Maybe a surge of water had taken the backpack out of sight.

  The light fell onto some steel rungs leading down the wall of the manhole. He hesitated and sniffed the air. Was that sewage he could smell? It would be horribly disgusting and dirty down there and he didn’t want to ruin his new trainers. It was only the second time he wore them!

  Then he realised that if he didn’t get his loot back, everything would have been in vain. The break-in in the jewellery store, his escape from the police, the lying low for a day. This was the first big thing he had ever undertaken, so it needed to go without a hitch. He had no choice but to retrieve his backpack, show everyone he didn’t always fall at the first hurdle! Besides, he’d promised his mother a fur coat, and she’d been nagging him about it for days now.

  Ricky sat down on the edge of the manhole. Clamping the flashlight in between his teeth, he slowly lowered himself into the dark hole, his feet feeling for the rungs. Would they be strong enough to hold him?

  Gradually he descended into the sewer. His jaw cramping up from holding the flashlight. Then about nine feet down, his foot hit the concrete floor. He’d made it!

  Bending over he was able to shine his flashlight into the sewer tunnel both ways. It was made of brick and a little river ran down the middle of it. He
shivered. He didn’t like spooky places, especially ones that were slimy and damp. The tunnel was much more cramped than he’d thought. On top of that, there was the overpowering smell of sewage.

  He jumped as water clattered down a little further up in the tunnel. What on earth was that? The water caused a little surge in the river and a few seconds later a turd floated past. Ricky bolted upright. What? No! Disgusting! He’d better get out of here quick! He shone his flashlight in the direction the turd had gone. There was no sign of his backpack anywhere. How was that possible?

  Back at the surface, Ricky put the cover back over the manhole. His mind was racing as it skipped past the possibilities of why his backpack had disappeared. Had a large surge of water taken the backpack a lot further down the sewer? Nah, couldn’t be. It had been really heavy – far too heavy to float. Had the police seen him dump the loot and taken it? If so, why hadn’t he read about it in the newspaper? The hairs on the back of his neck started to tingle. What if this was a trap? Were they watching him retrieve a loot that was no longer there? His eyes quickly scanned the quiet street. Were they going to pounce on him at any moment?

  Realising he still stood in the middle of Woolaston Road, Ricky quickly picked up his crowbar and walked over to the pavement. There he sat down on the doorstep of one of the shops. His breathing shallow and hands trembling. If they were going to arrest him, wouldn’t they have done so by now? No, the police hadn’t taken his backpack.

  He looked at the dark windows of the shops. What if someone else took it! One of the shop owners maybe? That had to be how it went. One of the shop owners took his loot out of the manhole and was obviously keeping quiet about it. The bastards. He had to get it back from them! But how? There were quite a few shops on this road. Which owner had stolen his loot?