‘I’m thinking, if you were going to steal something as inconsequential as a book, from somebody’s apartment, secure yes, but no Fort Knox, then why be so elaborate about it? Is it really necessary to climb up and down walls? What is this guy trying to prove here?’
‘That, my pal Ruby, is a mystery,’ said Blacker. ‘Not only do we not know why he does it, but nor do we know how he does it – why is it that not one security camera has picked him up leaving the apartment?’
‘So you are thinking of investigating the ghost angle,’ said Ruby.
‘Not yet I’m not, but I’m telling you, it might come to it,’ said Blacker. He winked and wiped his hands on his jacket. He caught Ruby’s eye and shrugged, ‘Ah, it needs washing anyway.’
‘So this card Mrs Okra found, did the cops get any fingerprints off it? Or were there prints in the apartment?’ asked Ruby.
‘Zip,’ Blacker replied. ‘The lab technicians are running some tests – UV light, that kind of thing.’
‘And this Braille-type code,’ asked Ruby, ‘is there enough for us to crack it?’
‘We’ll see but I don’t think so,’ said Blacker. ‘It looks like only a handful of characters. Not enough for us to break it with any kind of statistical analysis. We need more cards. More cipher text.’
‘In other words, we have to wait for him to strike again?’
‘And you can bet he will,’ said Blacker. ‘For now, stay on standby. I’m gonna have SJ hand the card over to you when she’s done her thing. I want your input on the code.’
‘You know me,’ said Ruby, ‘I’m always on standby.’
THE SUMMER WAS FADING FAST NOW, the wind beginning to gust through the trees, pulling at the branches in an effort to loosen the leaves. Whatever the townsfolk might be feeling, the authorities certainly weren’t sad to see the back of summer, but no one was quite expecting the season to change with such force.
Clancy and Ruby lay on beanbags facing towards the large picture window in Ruby’s top-floor loft-style bedroom.
‘Do you reckon that by the time we grow up, man will have invented a flying suit – a Superman-type of thing?’ mused Clancy.
‘Maybe,’ said Ruby, thinking of the Glider Wings. ‘It’s more than likely.’
‘It would be pretty cool – I mean, if I could have any superpower, that would be it,’ said Clancy. ‘That or invisibility.’
‘Invisibility is overrated as a superpower,’ said Ruby. ‘There’s an art to being invisible – you just have to think yourself into it.’
‘Yeah,’ said Clancy. ‘I saw that guy on TV doing it, you know, the one I was telling you about? The illusionist?’
‘Darnley Rex,’ said Ruby.
‘Yeah,’ said Clancy, ‘him. I might give it a try.’
‘Give what a try?’
‘Thinking myself invisible,’ said Clancy, ‘see if it works.’
‘You might have to lose the socks,’ said Ruby indicating Clancy’s neon yellow footwear.
‘Nancy took all of mine, I’m down to wearing Minny’s.’
‘And perhaps the hat should go too,’ added Ruby.
‘But this hat’s practical; it’s got a good brim and it’s waterproof.’
‘It’s pea green,’ said Ruby, ‘it practically glows.’
‘Not if you’re against grass,’ argued Clancy.
‘I don’t think invisibility’s a natural fit for you Clance.’
It was true enough. Clancy was the sort of boy who wanted to blend but who got noticed, and usually for all the wrong reasons. The only person who didn’t seem to see him was his father.
‘No, if I could have any superpower,’ said Ruby, ‘and I admit flying would be good, I might choose time travel. Imagine being able to teleport yourself from one time and place to another.’
‘Yeah, that would be kinda useful.’ Clancy was thinking about all those French tests he could retake once he had memorised the answers.
‘D’ya wanna grab a snack?’ said Ruby, pulling herself up.
Clancy nodded. ‘I could eat.’
They went downstairs and padded barefoot into the kitchen where Mrs Digby was sitting reading her Twinford Echo.
She didn’t look up but said, ‘If you two children think I’m about to up and fix you an ox tongue and sea pickle sandwich you are quite mistaken.’
‘I’m disappointed,’ said Ruby, ‘but actually I was thinking more along the lines of cheese and ham.’
‘Oh, well that I can do you for,’ said Mrs Digby getting to her feet. ‘I live to serve.’
Clancy wiped his brow; he wasn’t always sure when the old lady was pulling his leg. She had told him so many stories of the things she had been forced to eat as a young woman growing up during the Great Depression that he couldn’t be certain that the housekeeper wasn’t about to feed him some alarming part of a creature.
‘So what have you children been plotting – mischief no doubt,’ said Mrs Digby tutting.
‘We have been discussing superpowers,’ said Clancy. ‘What kind of super human would you be if you could be anything?’
‘I’ve got just about all the superpowers a person could have – look at the amount I have to do around here. You think you could do all this at my age?’
‘I hadn’t looked at it that way,’ said Clancy.
Mrs Digby threw Ruby a glance. ‘That Quent called again. He wants to know if you will be attending his superhero party.’
‘Darn it,’ said Ruby, ‘I was trying to forget about that.’
‘Well, I hope your father doesn’t hear you talking that way. You know how he gets about the notion of hurting another mortal’s feelings.’
Ruby sighed, she knew only too well.
‘Jeepers,’ said Clancy, ‘so you’re gonna have to go!’
‘I’ll think of something,’ said Ruby.
They were just about to settle into some solid TV time, when Mrs Digby called from the kitchen.
‘Child, did you put this piece of bread in the toaster?’
Silence.
‘I just made you a snack for jeepers’ sake,’ continued Mrs Digby. ‘It’ll be dinner not so long from now and you’re making yourself toast. You suffering from worms or something?’
‘Ah, no Mrs Digby, that’s Clance’s toast.’
‘What?’ hissed Clancy.
‘Yeah, you see, he’s looking to put on a little weight so he’s eating double.’
‘Darnedest thing,’ said Mrs Digby, ‘almost looks like there’s words on this toast.’
Ruby raced into the kitchen and took the plate from the puzzled housekeeper.
‘Must be your