RUBY REDFORT: THE COMPLETE RUBY REDFORT COLLECTION
Look into My Eyes
Take Your Last Breath
Catch Your Death
Feel the Fear
Pick Your Poison
Blink and You Die
Lauren Child

Copyright

This e-book collection first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2017

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is www.harpercollins.co.uk

Visit Lauren Child on the web at:

www.milkmonitor.com www.rubyredfort.com

Text copyright © Lauren Child 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016

Illustrations of characters in the 'Picture This' section of Blink and You Die © Lauren Child 2016 Series design by David Mackintosh Inside illustrations © David Mackintosh 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

Cover photography © Sandro Sodano

Map layouts of Blink and You Die by Martin Brown Map illustrations of Blink and You Die © Emily Faccini

Look into My Eyes: 9780007447428

Take Your Last Breath: 9780007487509

Catch Your Death: 9780007523337

Feel the Fear: 9780007586806

Pick Your Poison: 9780008139650

Blink and You Die: 9780008190156

Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN 9780008249113

Version: 2017-07-27

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Look Into My Eyes

Take Your Last Breath

Catch Your Death

Feel the Fear

Pick Your Poison

Blink and You Die

About the Author

About the Publisher

Dedication

For AD

Epigraph

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

There was a girl called Ruby

An Ordinary Kid

Chapter 1. You can never be completely sure what might happen next

Chapter 2. There’s a lot of truth in fiction

Chapter 3. ‘Sounded like dessert’

Chapter 4. Full of nothing

Chapter 5. More of nothing

Chapter 6. Fifteen dollars and forty-nine cents

Chapter 7. Don’t call us we’ll call you

Chapter 8. Getting Lucky

Chapter 9. A small dark space

Chapter 10. The voice

Chapter 11. The eyes followed the hands

Chapter 12. The silent G

Chapter 13. As good as gold

Chapter 14. Don’t erase me

Chapter 15. Strictly confidential

Chapter 16. Don’t look now

Chapter 17. Strange and uneasy

Chapter 18. If in doubt, say nothing

Chapter 19. One little lie

Chapter 20. Unlikely but not impossible

Chapter 21. The blink of an eye

Chapter 22. Don’t breathe a word

Chapter 23. Funny peculiar

Chapter 24. A total yawn

Chapter 25. Some likely suspects

Chapter 26. The little brown box

Chapter 27. A formula for murder

Chapter 28. Secretly super

Chapter 29. A Regular Girl

Chapter 30. Room Service

Chapter 31. When you’re out, you’re out

Chapter 32. The advantage

Chapter 33. Crisp and lean

Chapter 34. ‘They could feed my toes to a pack of vultures but I would never blab’

Chapter 35. Nine Lives

Chapter 36. A colony of vultures

Chapter 37. Time waits for no man

Chapter 38. The sands of time

Chapter 39. Lucky twice

Chapter 40. Look into my eyes

Cat Woman

Acknowledgments

There was a girl called Ruby

IT WAS A CRISP OCTOBER DAY in Cedarwood Drive and a two-year-old girl was standing on a high stool in front of a huge picture window. She was watching the leaves fall, studying the patterns they made as they whirled their way through the air. Her eyes followed them until her gaze was caught by a single yellow leaf, almost exactly the shape of a hand. She watched as it swooped down into the yard and then sailed up high over the fence and across the street. She watched as it danced up and down in the breeze and then slapped flat onto the windshield of a passing truck.

The truck pulled up in front of old Mr Pinkerton’s grey clapboard house. The driver climbed out, walked up the path and knocked on the door. Mr Pinkerton stepped out onto the porch and the driver produced a map – the two men struck up a conversation.

Exactly one minute later an elegant woman turned the corner, carrying a large green picnic basket. With a glance to the house and the slightest nod from the driver, the woman slipped out of her heels, scooped them up and nimbly scaled Mr Pinkerton’s fence. Mr Pinkerton was busy studying the map and noticed nothing; the child saw everything. Forty-five seconds passed and the woman reappeared: she was carrying the same basket but it looked much heavier than before and its contents seemed to be moving.

The little girl attempted to grab her parents’ attention but since her use of language was still limited she could not get them to understand. She watched as the woman pushed her feet back into her black shoes, walked to the rear of the truck and out of view. Mr Pinkerton chatted on. The girl jumped up and down, pointing at the window. Her parents, sensing she might be eager for a walk, went to put on their coats.

The child drew a truck on her chalkboard.

Her father smiled and patted her on the head. Meanwhile, the driver folded his map, thanked Mr Pinkerton and returned to his vehicle – waving to him as he drove off. The yellow hand-shaped leaf fluttered to the ground. The woman, now minus the picnic basket, walked on by. She had a fresh scarlet scratch on her left cheek.

The child spelled out the truck’s license plate with her alphabet blocks.

Her mother tidied them away and dressed her in a red woollen bobble hat and matching mittens.

The family left the house and strolled down Cedarwood drive. When they reached the grey clapboard house, the little girl paused to pick up the yellow leaf, and there underneath it, found a small tin badge embossed with an image of something. What was it?

A sudden cry shook the stillness of Cedarwood Drive. A cry that cut right through the heart of the child. She gripped the badge tightly and felt the pin dig into her palm. The neighbours came spilling out onto the street to find the kindly Mr Pinkerton doubled up with grief. Despite the best efforts of the Twinford Crime Investigation Squad – a search which continued for sixteen weeks – Mr Pinkerton’s prize-winning Pekinese dog was never seen again.

It was on that October day that the little girl resolved to dispense with the toddler talk and brush up on her language skills. More importantly, that was the day she set her sights on becoming a detective.

The little girl was Ruby Redfort.

An Ordinary Kid

WHEN RUBY REDFORT WAS SEVEN YEARS OLD she won the Junior Code-Cracker Championships – solving the famous Eisenhauser conundrum in just seventeen days and forty-seven minutes. The following year she entered the ‘Junior Code-Creator Contest’ and stunned the judges when they found her code impossible to break. In the end it was sent to Harvard University professors, who eventually managed to solve it two weeks later. She was immediately offered a place for the following semester but declined. She had no interest in becoming, as she put it, some kind of geek freak.

Some several years later…

Chapter 1.

You can never be completely sure what might happen next

RUBY REDFORT WAS PERCHED ON a high stool in front of the bathroom window, her binoculars trained on a cake delivery truck that had been parked on Cedarwood Drive for precisely twenty-one minutes. So far no one had emerged from the truck with so much as a blueberry muffin. Ruby gurgled down the last dregs of her banana milk and made a note in the little yellow notebook which lay in her lap. She had 622 of these yellow notebooks; all but one was stashed under her bedroom floorboards. Though she had taken up this hobby nine years ago, no one, not even her best friend Clancy, had read a single word she had written. Much of what Ruby observed seemed pretty mundane but EVEN THE MUNDANE CAN TELL A STORY {RULE 16}.

Ruby also kept a vivid pink notebook, dog-eared and smelling of bubble gum, and it was in this that she listed her Ruby rules – there were seventy-nine so far.

RULE 1: YOU CAN NEVER BE COMPLETELY SURE WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN NEXT. A truth no one could argue with.

Ruby was a petite girl, small for her years – at first glance a very ordinary looking kid. There was nothing particular to mark her out – that is, nothing until you looked a little longer. Then you would begin to see that her eyes were ever so slightly different shades of green. When they looked at you it was somehow hard to remember the point you were arguing. And when she smiled she revealed small doll-like teeth which somehow made it impossible to consider her anything other than a cute kid. But the most striking thing about Ruby Redfort was that when you met her you felt a strong need for her to like you. The bathroom phone rang; lazily, Ruby reached out and groped for the receiver.

‘Brandy’s wig salon, hair today, gone tomorrow.’

‘Hi Rube,’ came back the voice on the other end; it was Clancy Crew.

‘So Clance, what gives?’

‘Not a whole lot actually.’

‘So to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?’

‘Boredom,’ yawned Clancy.

‘So why don’t you get yourself over here, bozo?’

‘Well, I would you know Rube but my dad wants me home – he’s got some kinda embassy type function and he wants us all smiling, you know what I mean?’

Clancy Crew’s father was an ambassador and there was always some function or other in progress. Ambassador Crew liked to have his children scrubbed and serving canapés to prove what a great family guy he was – though truth to tell he was usually too busy to even remember their birthdays.

‘Some people have all the fun,’ drawled Ruby.

‘Yeah, my life stinks,’ said Clancy.

‘So cheer yourself up why don’tcha. Scoot yourself over, watch a few toons and you’ll still be home in time to smile for the camera.’

‘OK Rube, you’ve talked me into it, see you in ten.’

Ruby put down the phone. It lived on a shelf with two others: one was in the shape of a conch shell, the other disguised as a bar of soap. She had a whole lot more of them in her bedroom. She had been collecting telephones since she was about five years old, all in different shapes and colours. The donut phone was her first – the latest, a cartoon squirrel sporting a tuxedo. Just about all of them had come from yard sales.

She was about to continue her bathroom-based surveillance when the intercom buzzed – Ruby’s parents had sensibly fitted them on each floor to keep shouting to a minimum.

She pressed the ‘speak’ button.

‘Hello, how may I be of assistance?’

‘Howdy,’ came the voice from the other end of the intercom. ‘This is Mrs Digby, your housekeeper, may I please remind you that your parents will be home from Switzerland in two and a quarter hours.’

‘I know, Mrs Digby, you told me that a half hour ago.’

‘Glad you remembered. May I also point out that they may be a little grief stricken to see the state of your bedroom.’

‘It’s my style Mrs Digby – “layered”– it’s very in vogue.’

‘Well may I continue to remind you that some magazine folks are coming to photograph this very house tomorrow and if your mother sees it in its “layered” state, you will be in what’s commonly referred to as “the dog house”.’

‘OK, OK,’ sighed Ruby, ‘I’ll take care of it.’

The Redfort house, dubbed the Green-Wood house, on account of its environmental features, had been designed in 1961 by famous architect Arno Fredricksonn. Even now, a decade or so later it was still considered very state of the art and was regularly featured in architectural journals.

Ruby returned to the bathroom, sat back down on her stool and continued to stare out of the window; the truck was still there but now there was a raccoon sitting on its roof. The bathroom door pushed open and in ambled a large husky dog, which sniffed around before settling down to chew the bathmat.

‘Bored, huh?’ said Ruby, slipping off her stool. She padded into her bedroom and surveyed the wreckage. It was not a pretty sight. Ruby wasn’t so much untidy as she was a spreader – she had a lot of stuff and when she was busy working on something the stuff had a habit of creeping from one surface to another and this was what her mother did not like.

Darn it! muttered Ruby. If the magazine people were coming, her mom would just about freak if this was what they saw. She could almost hear her father saying, ‘for the sake of your mother’s sanity – do something Ruby.’ So she set about slipping records back into their sleeves and pushing books onto shelves. Ruby had a lot of books; they were arranged floor to ceiling across one end of her room.

A FICTION SECTION:

both English and foreign titles.

FACTUAL:

comprising anything.

GRAPHIC NOVELS AND COMICS:

subject – largely crime and mystery.

Ruby and Mrs Digby had a shared enthusiasm for crime and thrillers: fact or fiction, whether in book form or on the screen. They would often settle down with a large bowl of blue corn chips and watch the quiz show What’s Your Poison? or when Ruby was several years younger, Mrs Digby would settle Ruby to sleep by reading one of her favourite Crime thrillers, The Claw at the Window.

PUZZLES:

Puzzles were Ruby’s passion.

Any kind of puzzle: crosswords, anagrams, riddles, even jigsaws – anything that needed to be solved by finding the ‘pattern’ the ‘trick’ or the ‘key’. This had led Ruby to…

CODES:

She had read many books and essays on the subject.

In fact she was a subscriber to Master Code Monthly, a little known Chinese subscription-only magazine. Subscribers had to prove their code-cracking talent before they were permitted to sign up. It was this journal that had led her to read the following:

* Garp Einholt’s, The Theory of Code, its Abstract Duality and Subtext (to be honest Ruby had found this very overstated and not a little tedious).

* Sherman Tree’s more vital Unlock My Brain.

* Anya Pamplemous’s thirty year study of codes, The Puzzles That Lie Within, which she also very much enjoyed.

But her personal handbooks were both written many centuries ago, one, by the Greek philosopher, Euclid with the simple title of X, the other, a tiny indigo book (origin unknown) which was filled with all manner of codes. It explained riddles and poems and equations – patterns, symbols and sounds. It was a code breaker’s bible.

Having dealt with the books, records and papers, Ruby began the more complex task of sorting through clothes; all of which seemed to be on the floor of her closet. It was here, underneath a pile of knee-high striped socks, that she unearthed her glasses.

Boy, am I glad to see you!

Although Ruby would on occasion wear contact lenses she didn’t much care for them; they had a habit of falling out at exactly the wrong moment. If Ruby Redfort had an Achilles heel, it was her eyes; without some sort of visual aid life was just a blur.

There was another buzz from the intercom. ‘Yuh huh?’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Being tidy – why?’

‘Just checking.’

‘Mrs Digby, you are one suspicious woman.’

Having put away as many of her clothes as she could be bothered to put away, Ruby grabbed all the remaining garments and stuffed them down the laundry chute. She was in the habit of tipping all sorts of things down the laundry chute – even, on occasion, herself. It saved time.

Judging her work finished, Ruby’s finger hovered over the TV’s ‘on’ switch, but her attention was caught by what sounded like activity in the kitchen. Seven years ago she had rigged up a reverse periscope device so she could see what was occurring in the kitchen below. Today she saw Mrs Digby taking a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven.

Nice work Mrs Digby.

She slid her notebook carefully inside the hollowed out doorframe, and went downstairs.

RULE 2: IF YOU WANT TO KEEP SOMETHING SECRET, DON’T LEAVE IT LYING AROUND.

Chapter 2.

There’s a lot of truth in fiction

WHEN RUBY ENTERED THE STYLISH, modern kitchen, she was automatically handed a vile-smelling green drink. Ruby glared at Mrs Digby, bearer of the unfortunate liquid.

Mrs Digby shrugged. ‘Don’t look at me, it’s your mother’s orders – she wants you to grow.’ Sabina was always trying to get Ruby to eat foods that might promote growth. ‘Personally I don’t see what’s so wrong with being short,’ Mrs Digby added. ‘I’ve always been short and it’s never stopped me from getting by in the world.’

This was true. Mrs Digby was probably one of the smallest and most determined people one could meet. She had been with the Redforts long before Ruby was born and before that she was housekeeper to Ruby’s mother’s parents. Her face resembled an autumn leaf – dry and covered in lines. When she applied lipstick, it bled along the tiny cracks around her mouth, creating miniature rivulets. She was getting on in years but no one was exactly sure of her age – if asked she usually answered, ‘sixty, seventy, eighty, who’s counting? Not me that’s for darn sure.’

Mrs Digby spoiled Ruby whenever possible but never, ever, went against Mrs Redfort’s dietary instructions. Sabina Redfort was always putting her household under one health regime or another and Ruby and her father dreaded them all.

Ruby took the drink without arguing, brought it to her lips and said, ‘Mrs Digby, could I have just one cookie, just to take the taste away?’

Mrs Digby considered the request for a mere moment. ‘Well, your mother didn’t say you couldn’t – so I guess it would be all right.’ She turned her back just for a second, maybe two, and in this tiny moment Ruby poured the drink down the sink, having been careful to first make sure she got some of the green liquid on her upper lip.

‘Yuck!’ said Ruby.

‘There’s a miserable kid,’ said the housekeeper, wiping Ruby’s face as if she were still just a toddler. Mrs Digby looked at Ruby’s T-shirt, which bore the statement some days stink and muttered, ‘well, who can argue with that.’

She paused.

‘On second thought your mother will. If I were you I might avoid the trouble by changing into something, you know – frilly.’

Ruby made a face – ‘frilly’ was neither in her vocabulary nor her wardrobe. As far as her attire went, she was more often than not dressed in jeans, sneakers, a T-shirt printed with either a somewhat hostile word: bozo, an interesting number: 1729, or some less than agreeable statement: bored beyond belief. But she knew what Mrs Digby meant and she knew she had a point.

The backstairs door opened and in walked a young woman followed by three large boxes of heirloom tomatoes balanced on a pair of skinny legs.

‘Hola Ruby, how are you?’ said the woman.

‘Bien gracias Consuela,’ replied Ruby. ‘Hey, is that you under there, Clance?’

‘I think so,’ muttered Clancy, struggling to heave the boxes onto the counter. He rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll just go and fetch the others.’ Clancy was a good-natured person – mostly he tended to like people, but he didn’t much like Consuela. Too bossy. Mrs Digby was no big fan either.

The trouble had begun when Sabina Redfort rather rashly decided that Mrs Digby’s cooking was too stodgy and that they should adopt a more olive oil and tomato based diet. This had led to the hiring of dietary expert Consuela Cruz. Consuela had been flown over from Seville, Spain, along with many suitcases and countless cooking utensils, and though her salary was eye-watering, Mrs Redfort considered her to be worth every penny.

The new diet, however, may have been helping maintain healthy hearts but it certainly wasn’t generating much love. Mrs Digby made a muttering sound deep in her throat and Consuela clucked her tongue and both women left the room by different doors. Ruby, now alone, piled several cookies on to a plate (ten to be exact) and went about making herself some more appealing drinks (two banana milks with strawberry ice-cream). The banana milk was imported from Europe, for though Brant Redfort had tried, it seemed impossible to find anywhere inside the USA.

Ruby popped straws in both drinks and carefully carried them out of the kitchen – sucking on one of the straws as she went. She was about to climb the stairs, when she caught sight of the little light on the answer phone flashing to indicate a message. She pressed play.

‘Hey there Redfort gang! It’s the Humberts here – Freddie and I were just saying how much we would like it if you all came over – and Quent would just adore to see darling Ruby! Call us back won’t you! Bye bye bye!’

This voice belonged to Marjorie Humbert, a family friend, wife of Freddie Humbert the Twinford City Bank manager and mother of Quent the dullest boy in town. Ruby automatically pressed ‘erase’ and continued on her way. She was followed by the large husky.

‘Hey there Bug,’ cooed Ruby, ‘wanna watch some TV?’

When she entered her room she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Mrs Digby was right: if she wanted to avoid a whole lot of grief she might want to put on a dress. She rummaged through her closet until she found an interesting red and white number she had picked up at a thrift store – if Ruby wore anything other than jeans and T-shirts, then it was usually second hand. She was one of those girls who people talked about as ‘having her own style,’ which was sometimes meant as a compliment and sometimes not. The hem of the dress was secured with sticky-tape, but one hardly noticed if one wasn’t looking too closely.

Ruby pulled on some black over the knee socks and a pair of Yellow Stripe sneakers. The dress still retained its thrift store odour, so Ruby sprayed herself with some perfume. (Oriental Rose: she had a sizeable collection of beautifully bottled fragrances which, when worn mingled with the odour of the bubblegum she so often chewed, creating a unique Ruby Redfort fragrance.)

Clancy had not yet reappeared so Ruby carried the tray of snacks up the open-tread staircase which connected her room to the rooftop. She liked to sit up here on warm evenings looking at the stars, writing in her notebook, reading and, more than occasionally, watching the portable TV. She settled down in the beanbag, in one hand a cookie and in the other a large green apple. She believed that the healthy attributes of the apple might counteract the bad effects of the cookie. (Ruby Redfort had a lot of theories like this one.)

She looked up when Clancy popped his head through the trapdoor. Clancy was a shortish, scrawny looking boy – not exactly your ‘yearbook kid’ but certainly one of the most engaging characters you were likely to talk to, if of course you bothered to talk to him – which a lot of people didn’t.

‘Oh boy! I had to make a dash for the stairs or she would have had me peeling tomatoes for the rest of my life – I wouldn’t mind but tomatoes give me hives.’

He slumped down next to Ruby, who was busy flipping through the channels. Ruby was a keen watcher of TV – she watched a lot. She loved sit-coms, dramas, news shows, quiz shows, documentaries, but it was the detective shows that were her TV passion, and Crazy Cops in particular. Crazy Cops was a police drama that Ruby and Clancy were practically addicted to – it was very informative while at the same time being extremely entertaining. They had both picked up a lot of knowledge about police investigations and human behaviour from watching Crazy Cops. ‘There’s a lot of truth in fiction,’ was something Ruby was fond of reminding her parents whenever they complained about her ‘TV habit’. Sunday night, however, was toon night, and they were just into a fourth episode of Grime Girl of the Crime World, when Ruby heard her parent’s car drawing into the driveway.

Clancy looked at his watch and groaned. ‘I guess I gotta go, my dad won’t exactly see the funny side if I’m late.’

‘That’s too bad Clance, but hey, don’t forget to smile.’

‘Yeah, yeah, some friend you are – I’ll call you later.’

He left by climbing from the roof onto a branch of the large tree handily positioned right next to the house – from there he could shimmy his way down to the yard. Ruby descended more conventionally, by way of the stairs.

Noticing that she had forgotten to tackle the large pile of shoes in the middle of the room, she fetched the beanbag and placed it on top. The room looked magazine-shoot tidy. She took one last look in the mirror, then adjusted the barrette securing her long dark hair in a firm side-part, giving her a look of utter composure.

Satisfied, Ruby sort of half walked, half hopped downstairs, followed silently by Bug.

Chapter 3.

‘Sounded like dessert’

‘HEY HONEY, HOW’S MY GIRL?’ said her father, lifting Ruby up over his shoulder and mussing her hair. It was a ‘welcome home’ ritual Brant Redfort had never grown out of.

‘Hey Dad, d’ya wanna cool it, you’re messing with my look!’ said Ruby in a somewhat strangled voice.

‘Oh Brant!’ said Sabina Redfort, pretending to disapprove. ‘For an intelligent man you really can behave like a total nut.’ No one but Sabina would ever describe Brant Redfort as intelligent. Ruby had been born to parents who would never be giving Einstein a run for his money.

In many ways nature had been generous to Brant and Sabina. They had been given an easy charm and likeability, good looks and generous personalities. But for all their fairytale-like graces, they had little going on upstairs in the smart department. However, you would be hard-pressed to meet a more popular couple, and for this reason they headed up just about every committee or fundraising benefit in Twinford – they were what’s known as ‘socialites’.

The Redfort family walked upstairs to the living room and settled down on one of the large white couches.

‘So how was Switzerland?’ said Ruby ‘Oh it was wonderful, just wonderful, if we hadn’t had to get back for the museum launch we would have stayed on longer,’ said Sabina wistfully.

‘Oh yeah, what museum launch is that?’ said Ruby.

‘Ruby, surely you haven’t forgotten about the Jade Buddha of Khotan!’ exclaimed her mother.

‘Sabina honey, she’s pulling your leg,’ said Brant, raising his eyes heavenwards. ‘You have been talking about nothing but the museum launch for the last two months.’

‘Oh very cute!’ laughed Sabina as she pinched Ruby on the cheek.

Ruby’s parents were both wildly excited about the Jade Buddha coming to Twinford. Stolen from the ancient kingdom of Khotan during the 8th century and missing for over a thousand years the Buddha had recently been rediscovered encased in a block of ice somewhere north of Alaska. The archaeologist who dug the artefact out of the glacier was the senior curator of the Twinford City Museum, Dr Enrico Gonzales. In recognition of this monumental and heroic discovery, the people of Khotan had agreed to have the Buddha displayed at the museum for a limited period before it made its long journey home. Brant and Sabina were, of course, on the museum party committee.

‘You guys sure do travel light,’ said Ruby looking around for their suitcases.

‘Oh yes,’ said her mother. ‘The airline managed to lose every piece of our luggage – can you believe it!’

‘So I guess you lost all your vacation pictures too?’ said Ruby hopefully. Ruby had endured many tedious hours of her parents’ vacation snapshots and would go to any reasonable lengths to avoid the misery of a family slide show.

‘No,’ said her father, ‘luckily I kept all the film in my carry-on luggage – I can’t wait to get them developed, you’ll see I got some beautiful shots.’ Ruby considered this unlikely; Brant was a horrible photographer.

After quite a lot of welcoming from a very excited Mrs Digby – ‘Good to have you back at last, you’ve been away too long!’ and a good deal more fussing, ‘You’ve lost weight Mrs R, you need feeding up,’ – supper was ready and the family sat down to eat. Mrs Digby had gone to a lot of trouble with the table and there was a huge floral display which was very difficult to see over or indeed round.

During dinner, Ruby’s parents burbled on about the wonderful hotel and the delicious schnitzel and the beautiful Alps. And the conversation went something like this:

SABINA: ‘Quite the tastiest schnitzel I have ever tasted.’

BRANT: ‘And what about those Alps! Talk about high.’

Until Ruby wished they would start talking about the Jade Buddha again. But then, of course, they did.

SABINA: ‘Speaking of Switzerland, Marjorie mentioned that the Buddha’s glass display case has all been expertly designed by a Swiss expert – no one’s met him, no one – he’s an utter recluse.’

BRANT: ‘Oh yes, that’s right, a fellow named… what’s his name honey?’

RUBY: ‘Klaus Gustav.’

Ruby hadn’t exactly been listening, but she had been party to so many of these discussions that her brain had absorbed all the interesting and less than interesting details.

SABINA: ‘That’s right Ruby! Well, according to Marjorie the glass display case will be the shape of a cylinder and is going to rise up through the museum floor at the stroke of midnight!’

BRANT: ‘How does he do it, do you think?’

SABINA: ‘Beats me! Must be some kind of magician – no one even knows how you get that glass cylinder open – it’s top secret.’

BRANT: ‘Well if their glass is as excellent as their schnitzel we are going to be in for a treat!’

…and they were back to talking about schnitzel again.

Ruby wished hard for some kind of distraction before her brain froze over – and her wish was granted by a loud thud and a high pitched shriek.

‘Whatever in the world was that?’ exclaimed Mrs Redfort.

‘Sounded like dessert,’ said Ruby.

‘What?’ said her mother.

‘I must say having Consuela around is great if you are looking to lose weight but I am afraid our friend Bug has been pounding it on.’

‘Bug’s been putting on weight? What do you mean? Why would Bug put on weight?’ asked Mrs Redfort.

‘On account of all the low flying food in there,’ replied Ruby. ‘Mrs Digby and Consuela throw ingredients at each other nearly every night. Most of it ends up on the floor and Bug is only too happy to clean up, if you know what I mean.’

‘What!’ said Brant who was very much against pets eating their owner’s food.

There was a crashing sound followed by a yelp.

‘Yeah, I’ve pretty much got used to it but you may get complaints from the neighbours any day soon.’

‘Oh we don’t want that,’ said Brant, looking over towards where Mr Parker lived. Mr Parker was a very difficult man.

‘Get used to what?’ said Sabina

‘Kitchen friction,’ replied Ruby. ‘Mrs Digby can’t stand Consuela and Consuela can’t stand Mrs Digby – it’s been like this ever since you guys went away.’

‘Really?’ said Sabina

‘Oh yeah,’ said Ruby raising her voice a little, to make herself heard over what sounded like the smashing of a cut-glass tulip vase. ‘It’s been terrible – I must say this fish is very good though.’

Sabina slammed down her napkin, stood up and strode over to the kitchen door.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mom,’ warned Ruby through a mouthful of mackerel. But Sabina was not to be deterred. She opened the door just as Mrs Digby took aim with a pitcher of tomato juice. Consuela ducked and Sabina found herself covered in red gloop.

‘Mrs Digby! What has gotten into you!’

Mrs Digby quickly reached for a large dishcloth, put it down and picked up a towel.

‘That’s the second time today that someone has thrown a drink over my Oscar Birdet suit!’ exclaimed Sabina.

‘Really? Who was the first?’ inquired Ruby, who was by now standing in the doorway, and chewing on a carrot.

‘Some frantic little man at the airport – spills my martini all down my front and now this! Boy, this tomato is never going to come out.’

‘Let me clean it up, Mrs R,’ said Mrs Digby, who was looking rather pale in the face.

‘I’ll thank you not to touch it Mrs Digby, it’s dry-clean only!’ replied Sabina, these last words coming out rather more sharply and with more volume than she had intended.

‘Is never gonna be clean again Mrs Redfort, no way José,’ said Consuela giving Mrs Digby a smug look. Sabina was about to try and calm things down when Mrs Digby got in first.

‘Well, I can see whose side you are taking in all this, and me a person you’ve known your whole entire life. I see thirty-six years of service and loyalty count for very little round these parts. Maybe I’ll just go and pack the few sorry possessions I own and get out of here for good! No doubt cousin Emily will take me in.’

‘Oh Mrs Digby! Please don’t… ’ pleaded Sabina, but it was no use. Mrs Digby was already making her way downstairs to her housekeepers apartment – there would be no pancakes for breakfast, that was for sure.

Ruby was relieved when the telephone rang.

‘Redfort high drama society. You want drama, we got it.’

She hoped it would be Clancy Crew, he would certainly lighten the atmosphere – but it was Marjorie Humbert.

The following words were delivered by Ruby at super high speed to avoid conversation.

‘Hello Mrs Humbert yes I’m weller than you could begin to imagine I would love to chat but I know my mother is on the edge of her seat at the prospect of talking to you – bye, bye, bye!’

Ruby handed the phone to Sabina. ‘Gotta walk, Bug,’ she said, and whistled to the dog.

Jeepers, could I use some air.

Ruby and Bug left by the back door and made their way down Cedarwood Drive, turning right on Amster Street. Ruby decided to stop by the tree on Amster Green; a large oak in the middle of a triangle of grass. It stood there surrounded by blossom trees; a wooden bench sat directly under it. The oak tree was old, with branches that twisted towards the ground and swept up again. It was perfect for climbing. Ruby and Clancy liked to sit up this tree and watch the people down below; when the tree was in leaf it provided perfect cover.

Ruby jumped on to the bench, swung herself onto the lowest branch and from there made her way quickly up to the highest climbable limb. Finding the hole in the bark, she felt around with her hand and pulled out a piece of elaborately folded paper. A perfectly formed origami turtle. Ruby and Clancy had got into the habit of leaving each other tree notes, written in code and usually folded in this complicated way as it meant they would be sure to know if someone had got there first – origami was impossible to re-fold without knowing how, and very few people knew how. Clancy had obviously written the note on his way back home because it said,

wvitp xrauuziv vuwp eofyboc efivrlw ay va mq vcwpw *

Ruby smiled, scribbled something on a bubblegum wrapper,

nsyq ltszsjyk wvy ptrwayoe

pushed it into the hole in the tree and climbed back down. When she got home, she found her parents were still discussing the tomato gloop incident. Her mother was saying, ‘I hate for Mrs Digby to be unhappy but we can’t lose Consuela, she is a dietary genius.’

‘Why don’t I call that house management agency?’ said her father, ‘see if they can’t send someone to sort of keep control.’

‘I guess it’s worth a shot,’ replied her mother.

The telephone began to ring.

‘I’ll get it!’ called Ruby, she was sure this time it would be Clancy complaining about all the smiling he had had to do at his dad’s dinner, but disappointingly there was no one on the end of the line.

*CLUE 1: THIS IS A VIGENERE CIPHER. YOU WILL NEED TO FIND THE KEY. THE EYES HAVE IT.

Chapter 4.

Full of nothing

THE NEXT MORNING RUBY WAS JUST fixing her barrette the way she always fixed her barrette, when the phone in her bathroom rang.

It will be Clancy, she thought. I’ll bet he’s calling to complain about his hives.

She picked up the receiver.

‘Twinford sewage plant, how may we assist?’

But there was no reply.

‘Weird,’ muttered Ruby, replacing the handset.

There was no sign of Mrs Digby – no doubt she was still smarting about the tomato incident. So Ruby swallowed a large glass of orange juice in a single gulp, grabbed her school bag with one hand and a chocolate peanut cookie with the other, and shouted goodbye to her parents, who didn’t hear because they were engaged in a fascinating discussion about which drycleaners might best remove a tomato stain from a silk jacket.

BRANT: ‘Honey, take it to Quick Clean, then you’ll have it back in no time.’

SABINA: ‘Are you kidding, Brant? This is an Oscar Birdet jacket! Do you even know what that means? I’ll take it to Grosvenors.’

RUBY: Oh brother.

Ruby’s bike had a flat so she was taking the school bus this morning.

Twinford Junior High School was two buildings really. One old, grand and in some ways beautiful – a little run-down on the inside but somehow comfortable. The other starkly modern, stylish and sterile. Ruby sauntered into class just before Mrs Drisco, her homeroom teacher, called out her name. Mrs Drisco made the same comment she always made when Ruby was late, and Ruby made the usual faces behind her back.

The truth was Mrs Drisco found Ruby Redfort ‘rather full of herself, utterly unmanageable and impossible to teach’. Ruby Redfort found Mrs Drisco ‘a royal pain in the derriere’.

They were both right.

When it came to teaching the cleverest student in the history of Twinford Junior High, Mrs Drisco was out of her depth. On the other hand, it was a little pathetic for a grown-up teacher to be so snarky.

Once this little pupil-teacher exchange was over, Ruby went and sat down next to Clancy.

‘So was last night fun?’ whispered Ruby.

‘Well, that depends on what you call fun – my sister Nancy accidentally sat on the Spanish ambassador’s dessert,’ replied Clancy.

‘Oh, well at least she got dessert – some of us weren’t so lucky,’ said Ruby

‘What?’ said Clancy

‘Never mind, I’ll tell you later,’ whispered Ruby.

It was the usual Twinford Junior High day, nothing in any way out of the ordinary. Ruby had the usual interaction with her arch enemy Vapona Begwell, which went something like this…

VAPONA: ‘Hey Ruby, can you see outta those glasses because my suggestion would be – don’t look in the mirror if you don’t wanna give yourself a fright.’

RUBY: ‘Why, you gonna be standing behind me?’

There was a mildly interesting geography lesson followed by a mind-numbingly dreary French class (Ruby’s French was already so good that she spent the lesson reading War and Peace in the original Russian). History had Mrs Schneiderman promising in the next week or so to give a lecture on the Jade Buddha of Khotan. ‘My, is it ever the most fascinating story,’ she said. ‘I could talk about it forever.’

‘Meet my folks and you probably will,’ muttered Ruby.

At lunch time Ruby got into an altercation with Mrs Arthur over the let them eat cake T-shirt she was wearing. Ruby was protesting about Mrs Arthur’s strict guidelines about cake – or, more accurately, no cake. Mrs Arthur had banned cake.

MRS ARTHUR: ‘Cake is in no way essential and should not be present in any child’s diet.’

RUBY: ‘Cake is one of life’s great wonders and who would deny wonder to a child?’

All the pupils, with the exception of Denning Minkle, who had a sugar allergy, supported Ruby. However, Ruby was requested to turn her T-shirt inside out or risk a month of detention.

Ruby said goodbye to Clancy, who was being kept behind so he could retake his French vocab test. He was nervous; French made him feel queasy and Madame Loup gave him the shivers.

‘You’ll be fine, Clance,’ said Ruby, as she secretly slipped him an index card. ‘Copy this list onto your arm and you’ll have no problem.’

The piece of paper had all the test answers written in code – the code they had devised a couple of years ago and perfect for a situation like this. To the regular human on the street it just looked like gobbledygook.

Then it was time to catch the bus back to Cedarwood Drive.

Yes, everything was pretty normal. Things only began to get strange when Ruby arrived home.

She swung open the gate and saw that the front door to the house was standing open and a police car was parked in the drive. As she walked up the stairs to the kitchen she could hear the voice of Sheriff Bridges.

Now what is he doing here?

It didn’t take Ruby long to find out. She stood there in the living room, open mouthed.

Everything had gone. Well, almost everything. The telephone was still plugged into its socket and was sitting on the floor. Apart from that the house was as empty as a house could be. Even the dust was gone. It was obvious to anyone, even someone who had never visited the Redforts before, that they had been burgled.

‘Yes,’ said her mother, second guessing her daughter’s thoughts, ‘Every room is full of nothing.’

Chapter 5.

More of nothing

RUBY TURNED AND RAN UPSTAIRS, right to the top of the house. She went into her empty bedroom and set about pulling at the wobbly floorboards. As she lifted them up she was met by the yellow glow of her 622 yellow notebooks.

Thank goodness, it seemed everything was in order. Next she checked the doorjamb – and was reassured to see that, yes, the 621st notebook was also safe. She checked her other eleven hiding places before breathing a huge sigh of relief.

As Ruby turned to leave the room, she caught sight of her donut phone tucked underneath the bookcase. It was the only remaining phone from her collection and the only remaining visible object in the room. She picked it up and dialled Clancy’s number. He wasn’t home yet so she left a message. ‘Call me, OK?’ Then she went back downstairs. As she walked into the kitchen she adopted an expression of quiet distress.

‘I’m sorry sweetheart,’ said her mother kindly.

‘Don’t worry Ruby, we’re going to track this yoyo down,’ said the sheriff, patting her on the shoulder. ‘I’ll see myself out, Mrs R.’

‘Goodbye Nat,’ called Sabina.

Two minutes later the doorbell rang.

‘Oh, Ruby honey, would you get that?’ asked her mother. ‘It’s probably Nat, he’s forgotten his notepad.’

But when Ruby answered the door she was surprised to see a remarkably handsome, rather tall, formally dressed man. He was neither particularly young nor would he ever be considered in any way old – in fact it was impossible to really put any accurate age on him.

‘You are inside out,’ said the man, extending his hand.

‘Huh?’ said Ruby.

‘Let me guess, the so-called authority figures didn’t like your silent demands?’ he was pointing at her T-shirt which was of course inside out, the let them eat cake slogan no longer visible.

‘Oh yeah,’ she said, ‘something like that…’

How did he know about the school cake protest? she wondered.

Who is this guy?

Her mother by now had made her way downstairs. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked uncertainly.

‘Hitch,’ said the man, looking into the house. ‘I see you go in for the minimalist look.’

‘Pardon me? Oh yes, I see what you mean, we’ve been robbed,’ stammered Sabina. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing to photograph.’

‘Well, lucky I didn’t bring my camera.’

‘Why ever not?’ Sabina said, shaking his hand – Ruby noticed the man wince as if the action had caused him a sudden flash of pain.

‘Because I take terrible photographs – always getting my thumb in front of the lens.’

Sabina looked blank. ‘But aren’t you the photographer from Living Luxury Magazine?’

‘I’m a household manager – from Zen Home management – you called this morning?’

‘Oh!’ said Sabina, brightly, ‘you’re the butler?’

‘I prefer household manager, but butler if you insist.’

‘But I only called the house management agency a few hours ago, they said no one would be available for weeks, how did you…’

‘I returned from London unexpectedly two hours ago. My previous employers, Lord and Lady Wellingford, suddenly decided to tour the palaces of India and no longer required my services.’

‘But surely they will be back in a few weeks?’

‘Not for three years,’ he replied quickly.

‘It takes three years to tour the palaces of India?’ said Sabina.

‘They are travelling by elephant.’

A likely story, thought Ruby. I’ll bet he got fired.

‘So, do you want to see my references? I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’ He winked at Sabina and she giggled.

‘I’ll bet I won’t!’ said Sabina cheerily,

Oh brother! thought Ruby

‘I’m so glad you’re here, Mr Hitch.’

‘Just Hitch – that’ll do fine.’

‘Oh of course, that’s a butler thing isn’t it, calling yourself by your last name.’

‘Well in this instance it’s more of a me thing, it’s my only name – only my mother calls me anything else.’

‘Oh, and what does she call you?’ asked Sabina.

‘Darling, usually.’

‘Well, you can call me just Sabina – or darling – no just kidding…’

Ruby looked at her mother. Something strange had happened. Why was she giggling like an idiot?

‘Anyway, I don’t mind telling you, Hitch,’ Sabina went on, ‘things have been none too pleasant around here lately, no siree Bob. First the airline totally lose our luggage, and now look – we have been cleaned out.’

Sabina babbled on excitedly about the tomato incident and Hitch listened. It was if she had fallen under some kind of spell.

What is this guy, some kind of hypnotist?

Sabina was interrupted by the ring of the telephone.

‘At least we still have the telephone!’ cried Sabina, delighted that one small possession had escaped the burglar’s grasp. ‘I expect that’ll be the airline! Get that would you Ruby?’

Ruby walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. ‘Chucks Cheesery, you want cheese we aim to please.’

But for the third time there was absolutely no one on the end of the line. She hung up and was about to dial Clancy’s number when the phone rang again.

‘Look buster if you ain’t gonna talk, why call?’

‘I’m sorry?’ said a low, gravelly voice.

‘What’s with all the heavy breathing and hanging up? It is considered rude you know,’ snapped Ruby.

‘I have no idea what you are talking about – I am not in the habit of calling people with whom I have no intention of conversing,’ replied the voice.

So who called me those other times?

‘I am looking for Ruby Redfort,’ said the voice.

‘Well you found her,’ replied Ruby.

‘Good, so now I’ve found you, all you’ve got to do is find me.’

‘Excuse me?’ said Ruby, ‘what is this, quiz night?’

‘Well,’ the voice said, ‘a little bird told me that you notice everything – but do you notice everything Ruby Red?’

‘The name’s Ruby Redfort.’ Ruby didn’t like her name to be messed with.

‘As I was saying,’ continued the voice. ‘I hear that you are quite the code cracker, that you are capable of noticing the smallest things, the tiny details and how they connect. I bet you can see when something is plum square in the wrong place, while everyone else just walks on by. You can see that something ordinary might mean something extraordinary once it’s put in context. Am I right?’

‘I can crack a code,’ said Ruby struggling to sound more confident than she felt.

‘Good,’ said the voice, and the line went dead.

‘So what’s the code, buster?’ said Ruby to no one but herself. She slowly put down the receiver.

Now what?

Hitch meanwhile, true to his job description, had been managing the Redfort household. By the time Brant Redfort walked in the door Hitch had brought in some of the lawn furniture, conjured camp beds from nowhere, and ordered sushi for dinner. Sabina was leaning on the countertop, and chatting as if she had known him a good deal longer than one hour and forty-two minutes. Though Ruby observed that the conversation was not exactly scintillating.

‘So would you believe it, Hitch, I take my little Oscar Birdet jacket to the drycleaners – you know, Grosvenors on Harling Street? And what do they say? ‘Sorry Mrs Redfort but we won’t be able to fix this, it’s too delicate.’ Can you believe it? What kind of drycleaning service are they?’

‘Well it is an Oscar Birdet, maybe they felt a little out of their depth.’

‘You know Oscar Birdet?’

‘Sure I do.’

‘Aren’t his designs exquisite?’

‘Divine. Look, leave it with me, I’ll take it to my drycleaner tomorrow, he knows what he’s doing,’ said Hitch. ‘And if he can’t fix it, he’ll send it to someone who can.’

‘Boy, I can’t wait for Mrs Digby to meet you.’

‘Mrs Digby?’ he asked.

‘Our housekeeper. We had a misunderstanding, I expect she’s still at her cousin Emily’s cooling off – she’s going to just love you.’

Ruby wasn’t so sure. Mrs Digby ‘couldn’t abide fools’, and as far as Ruby was concerned this guy struck her as a prize turkey.

He was busy unpacking something from one of his bags.

‘Hey, how cute – you travel with your own toaster,’ exclaimed Sabina.

‘Well,’ said Hitch, placing it on the countertop. ‘It’s a good one, and who doesn’t love toast?’

There it was again, the little flash of pain, vivid just for a second when he lifted his right arm.

‘I can’t argue with you there,’ nodded Sabina.

‘That’s some butler,’ said Ruby’s father, impressed.

Ruby made a face. ‘Because he carries a little toaster every place he goes?’ Had the body snatchers broken in and removed her parents’ brains?

She went up to her room and pulled out her yellow notebook – she was thinking about what Hitch had said about his previous employers. Who are these people who can just up and tour India for several years on elephants? And why at such short notice? Ruby couldn’t help feeling this Hitch guy wasn’t telling the whole truth about the Wellingfords, if indeed the Wellingfords ever existed. And what if they did?

Probably cast them adrift in the middle of the North Sea and stole all their money. No, there was something about the timing of his arrival which made the hairs stand up on the back of Ruby’s neck. It reminded her of Mary Poppins – the way he had just arrived out of thin air.

Only thing was, Hitch was no Mary Poppins.

Ruby thought about RULE 29: JUST BECAUSE A LION SAYS IT’S A MOUSE, DON’T MAKE IT A MOUSE.

All evening Ruby waited to hear again from the mystery caller – but the phone didn’t ring and that night Ruby lay on her makeshift bed running over the conversation again and again in her mind.

Why did the caller hang up? You want a person to crack a code – why not give them the code? Geez! There were some strange folks out there.

But then, when the hands of her watch reached 4.43am, Ruby sat bolt upright.

Of course! How could she have been so dumb – the mystery caller had given her the code! The whole conversation was code!

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