I don’t want to think about what I saw when we hauled Mike back from the edge. Richard’s body was lying, smashed and broken, on the rocks below. As we’d pulled Mike up, the incoming tide had taken Richard again, only this time it was for real.
Graham was nursing a broken finger, I had a loose tooth and a split lip, and Mike’s nose was bleeding. But we were alive.
“Where did you come from?” I asked the injured Graham. “I thought I told you to keep an eye on Cathy.”
“I couldn’t keep eating toast for ever,” he replied, looking faintly green. “I had sixteen slices as it was. Sixteen slices! I’m surprised I wasn’t sick. She kept sharpening that knife. And then she said she was going off to help Mike. It sounded highly suspicious to me, so I thought I’d better come and find you.”
“And how did you get here, Mike?” I asked.
“I was coming back for breakfast,” Mike replied. “I heard you screaming.”
“It was lucky you came when you did,” I said, “or we’d both have been toast.”
“More toast? No thanks!” Graham flashed one of his blink-and-you-miss-it grins and then snorted with laughter, and we both sniggered, light-headed with relief, until the sight of Cathy and Mike’s serious faces made us pull ourselves together.
We began to hobble back along the cliff path towards the warmth of the centre, Mike breaking it gently to a white-faced Cathy that she’d sent her own cousin toppling over the cliff.
“I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t want to hurt him,” she whimpered miserably. “But he was trying to kill you!”
“The fall finished him,” said Graham cheerfully. “Not you. I think they’ll call it manslaughter. If we were in America they’d probably say it was justifiable homicide. From a legal perspective I would have thought it extremely unlikely they’d hold you criminally responsible.”
“It’s not like you woke up this morning and decided to bump off your cousin,” I said. “You were defending Mike. It was Richard’s own stupid fault that he was so close to the cliff edge. Besides,” I added, “he was going to murder you, Cathy. You were next on his list, so don’t feel bad. He had it all planned.”
“No!” Mike gasped, his face blanching with horror at the thought. “No! Not that!” He shuddered, and slid a protective arm around Cathy’s shoulders.
“Why kill me?” asked Cathy, baffled.
“Because you were working here,” I told her. “He thought you’d betrayed him. And … er … well, he said you were in love with Mike, and he didn’t like that very much.”
Cathy flushed deep red, and fixed her eyes on the path. But she didn’t push Mike’s arm away, and I noticed a look of surprise on Mike’s face that turned into a shy, hopeful smile.
There’s not much to add, really. Once the storm had blown itself out, the police sent a helicopter over and asked questions about Bruce’s climbing accident. They were a bit shocked when they heard about all the murders. Everyone’s parents had to fly up to Murrag and there was a whole load of stuff with statements and interviews, but it was pretty dull. Then we were helicoptered off the island, which was as sick-making as the ferry had been but a whole lot quicker.
After all the fuss died down, Cathy and Mike got together and they even opened the centre to proper, paying customers. Graham and I were offered a free week’s holiday. They said we’d be guests of honour.
I don’t believe in ghosts. Neither does Graham.
But we both turned down the offer, just in case.
mondays are murder
Tanya Landman is the author of many books for children including Waking Merlin and Merlin’s Apprentice, The World’s Bellybutton and The Kraken Snores, and three stories featuring the characters Flotsam and Jetsam. Of Mondays are Murder Tanya says, “I love visiting small, remote islands but I’m always slightly scared of being stranded in bad weather. Then it occurred to me that a wind-blown rock, cut off from the outside world, would be the perfect setting for a murder mystery.”
Tanya is the author of two novels for teenagers: Apache, which was shortlisted for the Carnegie Medal and the Booktrust Teenage Fiction Prize, and The Goldsmith’s Daughter, which was nominated for the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize. Since 1992, she has also been part of Storybox Theatre. She lives with her family in Devon.
You can find out more about Tanya Landman and her books by visiting her website at
www.tanyalandman.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used
fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information
and material of any other kind contained herein are included for
entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for
accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published in Great Britain 2009 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
Text © 2009 Tanya Landman
The right of Tanya Landman to be identified as author of this
work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced,
transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any
form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical,
including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior
written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:
a catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-3953-6 (ePub)
www.walker.co.uk
Tanya Landman, Mondays are Murder
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