Page 53 of Payback

Henry, Blake, and I decided to conduct a little mission of our own. If we could find one of the envelopes Philippe left for Mr. Carbuncle, we might be able to better implicate Rudolph in their crimes. At six-thirty, we set off in separate vehicles.

Estermere village wasn’t as quaint as the village by Mercia Academy. According to Edward, our village shops received a lot of patronage from the academy, the duchy, and all the buildings were listed by the government as warranting preservation for special interest. Potholes marred the main thoroughfare of Estermere village. Tall, plastic trash cans stood on the sidewalks outside flat-fronted cottages with brick facades marred by water damage and satellite receivers.

Blake, who had been taught to drive by one of the royal bodyguards, drove a jeep behind Edward’s limo. Henry and I sat in the front seats, tracking our progress with Google maps on my smartphone.

“They’re going to park in a moment.” I squinted at the screen. “Turn right onto… Scratchy Bottom Street, and we’ll walk the rest of the way.”

The boys snickered. Henry said, “It’s still a better place name than Shitterton, Happy Bottom, and Shaggs.”

“You’re making that up.” I placed my phone into my pocket. We had all dressed similarly for the occasion: black, long-sleeved tops and black pants.

“They’re in Dorset.” Blake pulled up by the street sign. “Edward brought us there in our second year to take a look.”

I undid my seatbelt. “What did you find?”

Henry opened the front passenger door and stepped out. “Nothing worth the journey, but the fish and chips weren’t bad.”

“He liked the cockles and mussels,” said Blake. “And the spotted dick.”

Pushing aside the mental image to concentrate on our mission, I grabbed them both by the hands, and we stood at the corner to watch Edward step out of the limo and knock on a door covered in peeling, red paint.

Mrs. Carbuncle answered the door, carrying a leather suitcase almost half her size. Edward gave her a gallant bow and took her case. Then he led her to the limousine and handed the suitcase to the driver, who carried it to the trunk.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t return for the kitchen sink,” muttered Henry.

“That’s why I brought these.” Blake reached into the pocket of his black jeans and pulled out a handful of unused stockings.

“Why do you have those?” I whispered.

“Don’t ask,” they both replied at the same time.

If we weren’t about to commit the crime of breaking and entering, I would have pressed for more information. But since Mr. Carbuncle could be anywhere, including close by and watching his mother’s house, I kept my mouth shut and slipped on a pair of leather gloves.

When the limo disappeared down the road and out of the village, we walked through the street, acting as though we were on our way to visit a friend. Henry knocked on the red door, waited, and stepped back. Blake slid in front of him and forced open the lock with a credit card.

A breath caught in my throat. “Where did you learn that?”

“One time at the palace, everyone was bored of waiting for Mother and the prince to emerge from their chamber. To pass the time, a pair of detectives taught me the basics of lock picking.”

The door swung open, and the scent of strong air freshener filled my nostrils. Wincing, I stepped into a darkened hallway. Floorboards creaked with every step. I turned the knob of the first door and entered.

Threadbare, floral sofas took up most of the room, and a fluffy, brown rug made up of four sheepskin covered splintery, wood floors. A thick envelope lay on the side-table. Henry picked it up and placed it in a bag.

“We should search his bedroom,” I said. “He’s bound to keep something incriminating up there.”

Upstairs was a bathroom with a dark purple toilet, sink, and bath, complete with a bidet. Mauve, damask carpets covered the ground, along with fluffy, aubergine bathmats.

“There’s only one toothbrush,” I spotted a plastic brush with splayed bristles standing in a grimy, enamel mug.

“Indicating that she lives alone,” added Henry.

“Indicating that Carbuncle lives here part-time,” said Blake. “His mother would have packed hers for her little trip.”

A chill shuddered down my spine. “I think you’re right.” That was an excellent observation, although I’d seen Mr. Carbuncle’s teeth up close, and it wouldn’t surprise me if this was the only toothbrush he owned. I turned around and glanced through the bathroom door into the upstairs landing. “We’d better hurry in case he decides to visit.”

The next room was a pink bedroom with a quilt-covered bed that obviously belonged to Mrs. Carbuncle. I opened the next door, which contained a water tank and mauve towels on a shelf.

“Where does he sleep?” I muttered.