Free Scam on the Cam by Clementine Beauvais Page A

“because Toby, Gemma and I have been massively sick for the past week. We’ve been throwing up every two minutes in the manner of volcanoes erupting.”

    â€œNo, I’m almost certain it was him,” said Patricia decidedly. “Short, brown-haired like that . . . Are you going to pretend it was a coincidence again?”
    â€œYes,” I said. “Complete coincidence, as it happens.”
    â€œAnd zat?” boomed Marcel. “Zat’s a coincidence, perhaps?”
    He’d scooped up the pile of jewelry from the floor, and was dangling in front of our eyes a little gold chain with a little boat charm attached to it.
    â€œYes,” I said. “Funny coincidence, I know.”
    â€œWe’re taking you to ze police,” said Marcel.
    â€œYes,” I said, “I was worried you might.”
    Gemma and Toby, meanwhile, were absolutely petrified. What is the point, I ask you, of sidekicks who don’t kick people’s sides when sides are in need of kicking? But Toby was staring longingly at the river like a fish that’s just been fished and thrown into a fishing basket, and Gemma was staring forcefully at the pile of jewels as if plunged into a deephypnotic state.
    â€œSeriously,” I said, “you’ve got the absolutely innocent zieves here. We were indeed zieving, but zieving from the zieves. I’m not at all even a tiny bit of a zief. I’m a supersleuth: a world-famous supersleuth on skates. I’ve got such a strong sense of justice that I’d arrest my own mother. Thinking about it, I
have
arrested my own mother.”
    While talking, I was kicking the sides of my sidekicks, hoping to summon some sort of response, but they were still being as reactive as a pair of hibernating marmots.
    â€œMy friend is coming with her car to take you to the police station!” announced Patricia, putting her cell phone back into her pocket. “You’ll have to explain to them how you thieved from the actual thieves. I’m sure they’ll be very interested. And also interested to hear about where the rest of the jewelry is. From what I can tell, this is only what’s been gathered in the past two weeks! Where’s the watch that you stole a month ago from my barge?”
    â€œI know not,” I admitted politely, “for never in my life have I laid eyes on it.”
    â€œI’m sure they’ll make you talk,” said Patricia.
    â€œI wish they’d make Toby and Gemma talk,” I said. “I’m tired of doing all the talking. Toby! Gemma! Anything you’d like to say in our defense?”
    â€œEarrings,” said Gemma.
    â€œFrogs,” said Toby.
    â€œBother,” I said, “their brains appear to have disappeared.”
    â€œEarrings,” insisted Gemma. “My earrings. There!”
    So I looked at what she was looking at, and indeed and undeniably, those were her earrings, emerging from the pile of jewelry that Marcel was still holding.
    â€œOh, that’s where they were!” I said. “You lost them in the boathouse, and then the zief just had to bend down and pick them up. He must have been pretty chuffed.”
    â€œCan I have them back, please?” asked Gemma. “They’re mine.”
    â€œNo,” said the pirate. “Ah, Patricia’s friend is coming! Oh no, it’s not Patricia’s friend, it’s a tramp.”
    It wasn’t a tramp, in fact; it was Jeremy being his usual stylish self, that is to say, dressed in clothes older than my dad’s jokes.
    â€œJeremy!” I greeted him. “So nice to see you. Pray tell this gentleman I’m not a zief.”
    â€œShe isn’t a zief,” said Jeremy obligingly. “What’s a zief?” he added, looking at me.
    â€œSomeone who steals zings!” said Marcel. “And who are you? Zeir zief-in-chief?”
    â€œNo,” said Jeremy, “I’m a student at