‘Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll find you,’ Beans muttered.
Now that she was doing something constructive, Beans felt a lot better. She even felt kinder towards that detective. Maybe she had been a little bit unfair on Detective Warner. Like most grown-ups, he wouldn’t want to share his thoughts as to what he was doing with a kid, even if it was the kid’s dad who had been kidnapped. But Beans couldn’t sit around doing nothing.
I’m not that sort, she thought.
Using her magnifying glass, Beans examined the door very closely but could find no further clues. She wondered if she should dust the door handle for fingerprints, but then she wouldn’t be able to tell which fingerprints belonged to her dad and which ones belonged to the kidnappers, as she didn’t have a record of her dad’s.
Beans was still trying to make up her mind what to do, when Ann and Louisa came out into the garden.
‘What did your parents say?’ Beans said to both of them.
‘I have to be back home by eight at the very latest,’ Louisa sighed. ‘They’re so tedious!’
‘I told Mum that you’d invited me to spend the weekend with you and that your dad didn’t mind, but she reckoned I’d be too much trouble at such short notice,’ Ann said with disgust. ‘When she began to make noises about speaking to your dad to see if it was really all right, I decided not to push it.’
‘Worth a try though,’ Beans smiled.
‘Worth a try,’ agreed Ann.
‘So how’s it going?’ Louisa asked.
Beans held up her first evidence bag. ‘This is material I found on the nail over there. One of the kidnappers must have been wearing a blue plaid shirt.’
‘Are you sure that wasn’t on the nail before today?’ Louisa asked.
‘I can’t be positive, but then where did it come from if it was here before today? Dad doesn’t have any shirts like that, and I certainly don’t,’ Beans replied.
‘What are you going to do with any evidence you find?’ Ann asked.
Beans shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about that bit yet. I guess I’ll just hand it over to Detective Warner – when I have some evidence worth something, some evidence he can use.’
‘Why don’t you store all your information and clues in the TOP SECRET folder in your spy kit?’ Ann suggested.
‘That’s a good idea.’ Louisa raised her eyebrows.
‘You needn’t sound so surprised.’ Ann frowned.
‘I’ll do that,’ Beans butted in before her friends could launch into a full-scale argument. ‘We should really call the folder something, though. Some name only we three will know.’
The garden was quiet as they all pondered.
‘How about “Project Beans’s dad”!’ suggested Ann.
Both Beans and Louisa wrinkled up their noses.
‘It doesn’t exactly flow off the tongue,’ Louisa said. ‘How about “Project . . .” No, on second thoughts that’s a stupid idea.’
Louisa looked hastily at Beans. Talk about insensitive! She’d been about to suggest ‘Project Kidnap’. What on earth was wrong with her? This wasn’t a game – not at all. It wasn’t a film or a joke. Beans’s dad really had been kidnapped.
‘I think I’ve got a title,’ Beans said slowly. ‘What do you think of “Operation Gadgetman”?’
Louisa nodded. ‘I like it.’
‘Brill!’ Ann grinned.
‘Operation Gadgetman it is then,’ Beans said.
She squatted down and opened up her TOP SECRET folder. She dropped her first evidence bag into the folder before closing it.
‘Next, I thought I’d dust for fingerprints,’ Beans said. ‘It probably won’t do much good, but I have to make sure I’ve done everything I can.’
‘How can we help?’ Ann asked.
‘I’ll need some Sellotape,’ Beans said.
‘I’ve got some in my satchel. I’ll just go and get it.’ Louisa ran back into the house.
‘Be careful not to touch anything. I don’t want any of the kidnappers’ fingerprints smudged or any clues in the house ruined,’ Beans called after her. She turned to Ann. ‘That goes for you too, Ann. Be very careful what you touch. OK?’
‘Gotcha.’ Ann nodded.
Gloves! That’s what Dad needed in his spy kit. Some thin plastic gloves – or maybe they should be cotton? Beans made a mental note to tell her dad when she saw him again. If she saw him again . . . ? No! Beans shook her head fiercely. When – not if.
While Louisa was gone, Beans busied herself with sprinkling black fingerprint powder all over the silver-coloured metal door handle as Ann watched. Then Beans used the fingerprint brush to delicately brush away the excess powder.
‘Does it explain how to do all that in your dad’s instruction book in the spy kit?’ Ann asked, her eyes wide.
Beans nodded. ‘Black fingerprint powder for light surfaces and white fingerprint powder for dark surfaces.’
‘Wow! You must be so proud of your dad. He’s not like most grown-ups, is he? He’s not boring at all . . .’
Beans straightened up, her lips set.
‘Oh Beans, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . Me and my ginormous mouth,’ Ann said, stricken.
‘It’s all right, Ann,’ Beans said. ‘You’re right. My dad may be a lot of things, but he certainly isn’t boring. It’s just my fault that I didn’t appreciate that until now. And I miss him already.’
‘Beans, he’s all right. I just know he is,’ Ann said unhappily.
Beans wiped her hand over her eyes. ‘I just wish I could be sure.’
Chapter Six
Gran Arrives
‘I’ve got the Sellotape.’ Louisa emerged from the kitchen, a roll of Sellotape in her hand.
Ann gave a secret sigh of relief. She was no good at this kind of thing. She never knew what to say or do when things went wrong with other people and she always just ended up embarrassing everyone. Beans smiled at her.
‘It’s all right, Ann,’ Beans said softly.
Ann smiled back.
‘Wait a sec, Beans. What about your dad’s notes on his oscillator?’ Louisa frowned. ‘Aren’t you going to look for them?’
‘Not yet. No way. Finding the kidnappers is the most important thing now, not searching for useless information about Dad’s gadget. I don’t see how that will help to find him.’
‘But Detective Warner said . . .’
‘I don’t care,’ Beans interrupted fiercely. ‘It’s my dad who’s been kidnapped, not his. Looking for stupid notes on the lousy oscillator will just have to wait. And what’s more . . .’
‘So what do we do now?’ Ann asked, deliberately interrupting.
Beans took a deep breath, then another. She had to calm down. Getting angry wouldn’t help anything.
‘First, we need a blank sheet of plain paper,’ Beans said quietly. ‘Then I put two pieces of Sellotape on the front and the back of the door handle and peel them off very carefully. Then I put them on the plain paper. With the dark fingerprint powder I should get a set of prints. That’s the theory, anyway.’
‘So you’ve not actually done this before?’ Louisa asked.
‘Never. And the prints might not even be clear. They might be smudged, or I could smudge them, or I might have two or three sets of prints one on top of the other. Lots of things could go wrong.’
‘That’s right, Beans, look on the bright side!’ Ann teased. ‘Or the whole thing might just work first time.’
‘Too right. You tell her, Ann,’ Louisa joined in.
Beans smiled. They were right. She shouldn’t be so pessimistic. She wasn’t usually. Moving very slowly and carefully, Beans laid the Sellotape on the outside of the door handle. Once she peeled it off, she held it by its extreme tips before placing it on the plain paper Ann had got out of the kit for her. Next, she did the inside of the door handle. Once that piece of Sellotape had joined the first piece on the paper, they all huddled around for a look. The Sellotape was marked with th
e dark fingerprint powder and some kind of prints were definitely there.
‘The first set of prints are a bit smudged.’ Louisa frowned.
‘I don’t think so,’ Beans said. ‘I think that’s part of a palm print. The second bit of Sellotape has the fingerprints on it. That makes sense. Think about how you’d turn a door handle. Your fingers would be on the inside of the handle.’
‘But do they belong to your dad or his kidnappers?’ Ann asked.
‘That’s just it,’ Beans sighed. ‘I have no way of knowing. I’m going to have to try and find some prints that must be Dad’s. Meanwhile, these ones can go in the TOP SECRET file along with the other clues. I think . . . Oh no . . . !’ Beans’s face fell.
‘What’s the matter?’ Louisa asked quickly.
‘We came in here too,’ Beans said, stricken. ‘Did either of you touch the door handle?’
Ann and Louisa looked at each other.
Ann shook her head. ‘I can’t remember.’ Louisa shrugged helplessly.
‘I don’t think you did, ’cause the door was already open, wasn’t it?’ Beans tried to remember.
‘I think you should take both our fingerprints as well – just to be on the safe side,’ Louisa said.
Ann nodded in agreement.
‘I’d better do my own as well,’ Beans realized.
She took a felt-tipped pen out of her case and coloured in the fingertips of first Louisa, then Ann, then herself. She pressed each of her friends’ fingers to a clean sheet of paper, one hand above the other, before doing her own. Beans labelled each sheet of paper very carefully. Ann wiped her fingers on her skirt. Louisa held her hands out in front of her and eyed them with distaste. She stretched out her fingers so that no finger touched the one next to it.
‘Yuk! So what next?’ Louisa asked.
‘Next we go through Dad’s workshop with a fine-toothed comb,’ Beans said. ‘If you find anything, anything at all, let me know.’
Ten minutes and several questions later, they were all getting discouraged. Ann and Louisa thought they found several strange items but Beans had an explanation for each of them.
‘This is getting us nowhere,’ Beans said reluctantly. ‘If there are any other clues in here, then I can’t see them. Louisa, you didn’t find anything in the corners of the room?’
Louisa shook her head.
‘Ann, there was nothing on the windowsill or under it?’ Beans carried on.
Ann shook her head. ‘Sorry.’
‘And there was nothing in the waste-bin?’ Beans asked.
Ann and Louisa frowned at each other before turning back to Beans.
‘I didn’t check in the bin,’ Louisa said, surprised. ‘I thought you were going to do it.’
‘I thought Ann did it,’ Beans replied. ‘Still, I don’t expect we’ll find anything in there either.’
‘Beans!’ Louisa warned.
Beans headed for the bin, mentally telling herself off. If that was the way she really thought, then why bother doing anything at all? She began to fish through the bin.
‘Two dead batteries – at least, I’m assuming they’re dead . . . bits of wire . . . more bits of wire . . . hang on . . .’
‘You’ve found something?’ Louisa asked eagerly.
‘So that’s where the fish-knife got to!’ Beans smiled, regarding the burnt, blackened top of the knife. ‘I do wish Dad wouldn’t use our cutlery for . . .’
Beans stopped herself in mid-sentence. Dad could burn every knife, fork and spoon in their cutlery drawer as long as he came home safe and well. She carried on searching through the bin.
‘Yet more bits of wire . . . an insulating tube . . . Wait a minute . . .’
‘What is it?’ Ann asked hopefully.
‘There’s . . .’ At this point, Beans stuck her head right in the bin. Ann and Louisa stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
‘Yes, I’m right – there’s cigarette ash in here.’
‘And your dad doesn’t smoke,’ Louisa said, a slow smile spreading right across her face.
‘Exactly.’ Even in the rapidly darkening workroom, Beans’s eyes were gleaming. ‘And Dad empties this bin every night so the ash had to have been put in there today.’
‘What kind of ash is it?’ Ann asked.
Beans frowned at her. ‘Ann, I’m not Sherlock Holmes, you know! I can’t tell the difference between one brand of cigarette ash and another simply by sniffing it.’
‘No, I meant is it from a cigar or a pipe or a cigarette?’ Ann said.
Silence.
‘Good point.’ Beans stuck her head into the bin again. ‘I’d say it’s cigarette ash, but they all smell disgusting to me.’
‘Let me have a whiff.’ Ann barged Beans out of the way. ‘My granddad smokes a pipe so I know that smell.’ Ann took a deep breath, her nose over the bin. ‘It’s not a pipe. It’s a cigarette.’
‘I suppose it’d be too much to hope for that the cigarette tip is in there?’ Louisa said.
Ann shifted through the quarter-full bin. ‘No. Just ash,’ she said at last.
‘I’ll put some in an evidence bag, anyway,’ Beans said.
Once they were sure that there was nothing else in the workroom, Beans led the way back inside the house.
‘You two can check upstairs. Watch where you’re both stepping and don’t touch anything.’ Beans warned. Louisa and Ann went to explore the upstairs, whilst Beans phoned her gran.
It only took a few second’s deliberation for Beans to decide that she’d wait for Gran to arrive before telling her what had happened to Dad. She couldn’t exactly say, ‘How are you, Gran? By the way, Dad’s been kidnapped!’ over the phone. No, she’d wait until Gran came round and they were alone.
‘Gran, it’s Beans,’ she said, the moment her gran picked up the phone and said hello.
‘Well, hello Beatrice, how are you?’ Gran asked. Her voice was warm and normal and made Beans sad.
‘Er . . . that’s what I’m phoning about. Dad isn’t here. Can you come over to stay with me until he gets back? He left a note to say I should ask you.’ Beans chewed on her bottom lip.
That was about right!
‘Where is he?’ Gran asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Beans replied. That was truthful.
‘Well, when will he be back?’
Beans could hear the frown in Gran’s voice.
‘I don’t know that either. I’ll explain when you get here,’ Beans said.
‘Hhmm! I’ll be there as soon as possible. In about an hour,’ Gran said.
‘Thanks, Gran. See you later,’ Beans replied.
‘Just what is your father playing at?’ she heard Gran mutter.
Beans waited for a few seconds before she put down the phone at her end. She was sure she’d done the right thing. It wasn’t the sort of conversation to have over the phone. With a sigh, Beans went to join Louisa and Ann.
Forty minutes later the upstairs was done – and not one more clue.
‘Downstairs now,’ Beans said. ‘We’ll have to make this fast. Gran will be here soon.’
It was certainly very tiring work. Beans felt as if she had to examine practically every square centimetre of carpet just so she wouldn’t miss anything important. And in spite of careful and detailed scrutiny, there was nothing out of the ordinary in any of the downstairs rooms either.
‘Look, Beans, I’ve got to go home,’ Louisa said, glancing down at her watch.
‘Oh, no! Is that the time? My mum’s going to kill me,’ Ann joined in. ‘Beans, I’m gonna have to shift.’
‘That’s OK. Thanks for all your help. It would have taken me for ever to try and do all this by myself,’ Beans said gratefully. ‘Will I see you both on Monday morning?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Louisa frowned. ‘We’re going to be round here first thing tomorrow morning . . . at least I am.’
‘I’ll be here too, don’t worry,’ Ann said indignantly.
Beans look
ed at her friends. She tried to smile. ‘Thanks.’ She didn’t know what else to say.
‘And don’t worry, we won’t say a word to anyone,’ Louisa said. ‘Will we, Ann?’
‘Dead right! Not one word,’ Ann agreed.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
‘That’ll be my gran,’ Beans said. She opened the front door, Louisa and Ann behind her.
‘Hello, Beatrice. Hello, girls.’ Gran stepped over the threshold, closing the door firmly behind her. ‘My goodness, but it’s getting chilly out there.’
‘Hello, Mrs Conran,’ Ann said. ‘We were just leaving.’
‘Don’t let me chase you out.’ Gran raised her eyebrows.
‘You’re not – honest. We really were just going,’ Louisa said. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow, Beans,’ she added with a whisper. ‘Good luck with the fingerprints.’
Beans opened the front door for her friends and watched them as they walked down the hill to the bus stop.
‘What fingerprints was Louisa talking about?’ Gran asked.
‘You heard that!’ Beans stared.
‘Of course! You young people! You think that once a person passes forty, they’re ready to be tucked up in their grave.’ Gran grinned. ‘So what’s this about fingerprints?’
‘Gran . . . I’ve got something to tell you,’ Beans said unhappily. ‘I think you’d better sit down.’
This was it. And it was the worst thing Beans had ever had to do.
At first, Gran wouldn’t believe it. A joke in very poor taste, she called it. It was only when Beans convinced her gran to phone Detective Warner that Gran’s expression changed from being seriously annoyed with Beans to being seriously worried. Beans listened as Gran spoke to the detective, incredulity and fear growing in her voice. When at last Gran got off the phone, no-one spoke.
‘Why didn’t you call me, Beatrice?’ Gran said at last. ‘You should have told me at once. Why didn’t you tell me over the phone?’
‘I couldn’t. I thought it would be better if you were here. If we were together,’ Beans sniffed.
Gran beckoned Beans towards her. ‘Come here.’
And in the middle of the sitting-room, they silently hugged.