The Mystery of the Stolen Books

©2006 Keith Robinson

The Five Find-Outers and Dog are home for the holidays again. When Peterswood library is broken into, the gang are soon on the trail... much to Mr Goon's annoyance. Fatty and his friends find only one clue: a footprint on the windowsill where the burglar smashed a window and climbed in. Why anyone should risk breaking into a library to steal a few books is a mystery—so it's even more puzzling when the stolen books are found dumped in an old school field. Meanwhile, Mr Goon is investigating another break-in, this one at an office building in town. Valuable coins have been stolen out of a safe. Two burglaries in one night! Can they be connected somehow?

This is a completed novel which I sent to Egmont (the current publishers of the Find-Outer series) for consideration. They returned my synopsis with a hand-written note in the bottom corner saying simply, "I am sorry, I must pass." So I thought I'd make the story available here. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 6: Mr Goon on the job

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Mr Goon's mouth dropped open. He peered through the chain fence at the tangle of bushes beyond. "You found the stolen books? In the old school, you say? This old school?"

"I don't know of any other old schools around here," said Fatty. He glanced down and feigned surprise. "Why, look, Mr Goon—a hole in the fence! That'll save a long trip down the alley, through the library garden, and back up Union Street. Let's hop through here and I'll show you where the books are."

With that he ducked and scampered through the tight space, ignoring Mr Goon's protest. He threaded his way through the bushes and emerged into the school field once more. There he waited, listening with delight to Mr Goon's pants and struggles and exclamations of annoyance. The bushes suddenly rustled loudly and a large angry policeman burst through in a shower of leaves and twigs.

Fatty fought to contain his laughter. Old Clear-Orf had a branch sticking out of his jacket, dirt around his knees, and his forehead was perspiring freely.

"Why'd you take off like that for?" the policeman complained loudly. "Crawling through small spaces and disappearing into the bushes..."

"I just thought you'd like to find the stolen books before the crime scene is disturbed," Fatty said innocently.

"Well, I do," Mr Goon mumbled. "So where are these here books?"

"This way."

Fatty led Mr Goon across the field towards the shed. As they approached, Larry, Daisy, Pip and Bets appeared on the street outside the grounds. They waved and pressed themselves against the railing with big grins on their faces. Fatty stifled a snort of laughter; they were a funny sight. How Mr Goon must detest 'interfering kids'!

"Poking their noses in again," Mr Goon grumbled on cue, a little out of breath with the fast walk across the field. "Meddling as usual. Nosey little toads, the lot of you."

Fatty turned to him, looking hurt. "Mr Goon, we found the books for you! Would you have preferred it if we hadn't come to get you?"

Mr Goon didn't answer.

They arrived at the pile of books outside the small hut, and Mr Goon took charge. He stopped Fatty in his tracks and commanded him to stay away, then slowly paced around the crime scene with his eyes on the ground.

Giggles came from the railing. "Isn't he careful," Daisy was saying. "Look how he checks every blade of grass for clues."

"You can tell a lot from the way a blade of grass is flattened," said Larry solemnly.

"Yes," Pip added, "some people flatten them more than others, depending on weight. Take Mr Goon, for instance—"

"Will you CLEAR ORF!" shouted Mr Goon suddenly, swinging round. His neck had gone purple. "This 'ere is a crime scene and it's got to be checked for clues!" He snorted and started mumbling under his breath, resuming his search. "But you kids wouldn't understand police procedure. Always hanging about and meddling with the law. Getting under my feet all the time—"

He stopped suddenly, staring at something. Then he bent and picked up something small and red—Bets' boiled sweet. "A-ha!"

There was an explosion of stifled giggles from the railing, and Fatty put a hand over his mouth and noisily cleared his throat. Mr Goon was oblivious. He stared in fascination at the sweet, his eyes gleaming, and then he took out a small envelope and placed the sweet carefully inside.

When he placed the envelope in his breast pocket, Fatty remembered what Pip had said about another clue Mr Goon had found in the alley. What could it be? And how come Fatty and the others had missed it? That was most annoying!

Mr Goon knelt by the books and peered at them with interest. "Looks like they're all from one section," he said to no one in particular. Fatty guessed he was just talking aloud to himself, forgetting about the others. "So our burglar had an interest in books about crime, did he? Well, that says something, that does!"

"Such as?" Fatty asked politely.

Mr Goon's head snapped round, looking surprised. Then he scowled. "You still here? Why don't you all clear orf now? You're not needed."

Fatty smiled. "Certainly." He sauntered off across the field to the railing, calling back over his shoulder as he went. "Oh, and Mr Goon—please don't strain yourself getting all those books back to the library. There must be forty or fifty of them. Would you like me to bring you a bag?"

"Ah, now, wait a second," said Mr Goon, his voice suddenly very warm and buttery. "Perhaps it would do you kids good to see how a real policeman does his job. Why don't you stick around while I analyse the crime scene? I shouldn't be long. And then, er, if you like you can all help me get these books back to Mrs Sharple."

"How kind," said Larry, and the others chortled.

The next ten minutes were amusing. Mr Goon made a great show of looking important and thoughtful, occasionally rubbing his chin and saying "Ah!" a lot, as if he was putting two and two together and building a profile of the burglar from what few clues he saw on the ground. He even poked around in the shed for a while, but it was empty apart from a few spades with cobwebs all over them. The door had been open, but Fatty privately guessed some old tramp had been using it as a place to sleep.

Just when it looked like Mr Goon wasn't going to find the scrap of paper Pip had dropped on top of the books, it showed up. It had blown across the grass a little way. When a breeze picked it up and carried it further across the field, Mr Goon hurried after it and pounced heavily.

When he read it, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Coo, look at that. Now, that's a proper clue, that is."

"What is it?" Fatty asked, stepping closer.

Mr Goon almost forgot himself and held out the paper for Fatty to see—but then he snatched it back. "Er, it's a vital clue, but it's important police business and therefore confidential, so I can't show you. I'm sure you understand."

He looked pleased himself as he stood up and pocketed the note. "All right, you kids. Let's get these here books back to the library."

Larry and Pip shot over the fence at once and rushed to help Fatty collect up the books. As they did so, the paper baker's bag was revealed and Fatty stopped.

"Mr Goon, is that another clue?"

The policeman frowned and bent to stare at the bag. He sniffed. Then he picked it up and studied it. "Why, this is from the bakery at the end of the alley," he said triumphantly. "So the burglar must have visited there before stealing the books. I might be able to get a description of the man."

As he stuffed the bag into another pocket, Fatty frowned and continued picking up books and stacking them in Larry's and Pip's arms. After a while they staggered off to the fence and handed them all through to Daisy and Bets, then returned for more. Meanwhile a gnawing sensation was tugging at Fatty's stomach. He suddenly felt guilty about the false clues. Why, oh why, had they left them? Superintendent Jenks would not be impressed when it all came out. Mr Goon was a blunderer by nature, and it was a lot of fun to send him off wild goose chases...but leaving false clues at the scene of a crime was more than just a prank; it was actually a very serious offence. What would Old Clear-Orf call it?—perverting the course of justice?

Heavy-hearted, Fatty collected up the last few books and handed them through the fence. Then he followed Larry and Pip over the railing and joined Daisy and Bets on the pavement. They divided up the books so that the boys had larger stacks than the girls, then turned to Mr Goon.

He stood empty-handed in the field, looking at the fence with a frown on his face.

"Problem, Mr Goon?" Fatty asked.

Mr Goon waved his hands airily. "You kids get along to the library and return those books. I'm going to take another little look around here before I go."

"You could try the gate if you don't want to tackle the fence," Fatty suggested. "I think the gates are probably locked, but you never know. Or you could squeeze through that tiny gap back into the alley."

Mr Goon's face reddened again as a number of giggles filled the air. "Thanks for your help," he said through gritted teeth. "You clear orf now. Tell Mrs Sharple I'll be along later."

The Find-Outers headed back to the library. Fatty was so lost in thought that he hardly noticed when everyone stopped talking and went quiet. "Are you all right, Fatty?" asked Bets.

"What? Oh. Well, I was just having second thoughts about leaving those clues for Goon," said Fatty. He groaned. "Why did we do it? What were we thinking? We'll get into awful trouble when this comes out. Remember when we left clues for Old Clear-Orf when Dark Queen disappeared from her cat house? It was fun—but embarrassing when we had to own up afterwards. And then we left clues for Ern up Christmas Hill..."

"Still," Pip said, "at least Mr Goon has one up on us. He has a real clue, that we somehow missed."

"That's true," said Fatty. "That makes me feel a little better. Although it shouldn't. I'm annoyed at myself for not spotting whatever it was!"

"It was probably a worthless clue anyway," said Daisy. "You know how Old Clear-Orf is. He probably picked up an old lemonade bottle that's been there ten years."

Everyone laughed. They turned in once more at the library, noting that the glaziers had gone, and headed inside. Mrs Sharple was amazed, delighted and horrified all at once when she saw her precious books being stacked on a table.

"You found them! But where were they? Oh, it's lovely to have them back—but oh dear, look at the state of them! This one's corners are bent, and these pages are torn—and this one has its dust jacket missing! Some people have no respect!"

"Mrs Sharple," said Fatty in his most grown-up voice, "we must check these books off against your list and see which one has been stolen. That might give us some kind of clue as to why it was stolen. Maybe the last person to check it out had something to do with the burglary."

"But why?" said Bets, puzzled. "Why one earth would someone check out a book, then return it, and then want to steal it? And why steal all of the books rather than just that one?"

"It's a real mystery," said Larry, and he winked at her. Bets beamed.

Mrs Sharple produced a leather-bound register listing every book in the library. She opened it with reverence, and the children crowded round. The pages were filled with tiny, neat writing. Each book title was listed alongside its author, and it took about ten minutes to compare the pile of stolen books against those listed in the register.

There were eight books missing, and Fatty noted them on a sheet of paper. At first the Find-Outers were startled so many had been stolen, but then Mrs Sharple explained that some of those books might be checked out. She had a separate list of borrowed books, and she went to fetch it.

Fatty nodded. "I'm slacking," he said. "I have three of those books myself." He pointed at the short list he'd made. "See, this one, this one, and...yes, this one. So there are now only five books to account for."

Mrs Sharple returned with her register of borrowed books, and they checked it against Fatty's list. "Yes, see, this one is being borrowed by Jack Crowder," she said, apparently forgetting all about her strict library privacy rules. Or maybe, Fatty thought idly, she realised that the details needed to be disclosed since a crime had been committed.

She went on. "These three are currently being borrowed by Peter Westlake, a very nice young chap who comes in regularly. He's a college student, you know, and I believe he's doing some sort of essay on crime at the moment. He has the most darling Jack Russell dog by the name of Purdy. She only has one eye, and—"

"So we have one book missing," said Fatty. "Which one is it, Mrs Sharple? What's it called?"

"Well, now," Mrs Sharple said, staring at her list. "The final book is being borrowed by a lady called Miriam Strider. So they're all accounted for."

The Find-Outers exchanged astonished glances. "You mean there aren't any missing?" asked Daisy. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, quite sure," said Mrs Sharple, snapping her leather book shut. She sounded chirpy. "So that's good news. Although I'm really annoyed that all these lovely books got so badly treated. Just look at them. Bent, dog-eared, dirty, torn here and there..."

She went off with her precious lists and left the children standing there in silence.

Fatty shook his head. "Well, I didn't expect that. I felt sure one book would be missing. Now we're back to the original question: why would someone break in, steal a bunch of books, and then dump them all straight away? Ideas, anyone?"

"Maybe there was something inside one of the books," Bets suggested. "A letter, maybe. Or a photograph. Something that someone placed inside a book for safe-keeping, then forgot it and returned the book."

"And had to break in to steal it?" Pip said scornfully. "Why would someone do that? They could just drop by anytime and thumb through the books until they found what they were looking for."

"But it's the only idea we have," Fatty said, patting Bets on the shoulder. "And there might be something in it. We should consider all options, Pip, however unlikely."

Bets beamed and circled her arm around Fatty's. Pip looked glum.

Mr Goon chose that moment to stomp in through the rear door. He looked hot and bothered. He marched straight past the Find-Outers without even seeing them and tapped Mrs Sharple on the shoulder. "Blue book with red lettering," he announced. "Did the missing book have a blue cover with red lettering?"

"I...I don't know what you mean," said Mrs Sharple, backing away. "There are no missing books, Mr Goon. They're all accounted for. We have fifty-six in total, of which eight are checked out by members. Frederick has three of them, and the other five are being borrowed by three other people."

"I'll want their names," Mr Goon said pompously. "It's important. The thief was after a crime book with a blue cover and red lettering, quite thick, and if you say all the books that were stolen are accounted for, well, that means the thief didn't find the one he wanted. Which means one of your library members must be borrowing it."

Fatty's mouth dropped open. He glanced around at the others and saw that they were thinking the same thing. Mr Goon might have inadvertently got the right idea! Perhaps it was being borrowed. Fatty had three books himself; what if he had the very book the thief was after? Mr Goon was after a blue book with red lettering thanks to Pip's false clue, but apart from that he was possibly on the right track.

The Find-Outers hung back while Mr Goon majestically wrote down the names and addresses of the other three borrowers. Then he turned to go, and suddenly saw them. "Ho! You're still here, then, loitering in the shadows."

Fatty glanced about, wondering which shadows the policeman was talking about.

"I'm leaving now," Mr Goon said grimly, "and I don't want you hanging about any more than necessary. You clear orf and keep your noses out of this here business. If I catch you meddling, you'll be for it."

"Right-o," said Fatty, saluting. "We promise we won't meddle or hang about any more than necessary. What's more, we'll keep our noses well clear of anything they shouldn't be poking into."

Mr Goon stared at him, then muttered "Gah!" under his breath and stalked out.

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