Free The Venetian Job by Sally Gould Page A

you
witnessed?"
    That always happened; because Charlie is
older and taller, adults always talk to him when they want
information.
    Luckily, Charlie slapped me on the shoulder
and told her that I was the one who'd noticed the details that
didn't make sense and she should talk to me. Sometimes Charlie
could be a really good brother.
    The reporter stuck the microphone in front
of my face and asked my name.
    "Max McLean," I said. "Charlie and me are
from Australia and the policeman you were talking to is our uncle.
He told us that policemen need to look for the detail that doesn't
make sense. Santo took us to The Cursed Mansion on the Grand Canal
to meet the film director, André, and to see some filming. When we
had a look over the mansion, I saw one of the bad guys and I got a
bad feeling." Then I told her about the details that didn't make
sense.
    The whole time I was telling her the story
she was nodding and encouraging me to keep talking, like this was
the best story she'd ever heard. I even told her the bit about me
falling out of the boat. If she thought I was a hopeless case
because I couldn't hold on, she didn't say so. When I'd finished,
she asked Charlie and me about our trip to Italy and told us we'd
have to return again soon. The guy with the camera took about ten
photos of Charlie and me.
    Then he and the reporter zoomed off in their
boat and the boatload of Carabiniere zoomed off in their boat with the bad guys. Two of the Carabiniere took the water taxi that
the bad guys had stolen and zoomed away. Luca and Santo joined me
and Charlie on the sidewalk.
    "Well, Max," said Santo as he shook my hand,
"you got your real bad guys, real crime and real action. I expect
the owner of The Cursed Mansion is very happy that you noticed the
detail that didn't make sense."
    We all laughed.

9. THE MAX
STORY
    T wo weeks later, I sat in
my usual spot at the back of the class next to Thomo and Chook.
Everyone, other than me and Arabella, who was telling us about
winning a horse-jumping competition, had given their TRUE or FALSE
story. No one had a story half as exciting as mine. The strange
thing was that at the end of every story, everyone else in the
class had correctly guessed whether the story was true or false. I
think that was because we all knew each other so well.
    Chook had told the class that he went to
North Queensland in the holidays and he cut his foot on coral and
he had to go hospital to make sure it wouldn't get infected. Big
deal. If you're going to tell a false story, I reckon you should
come up with something better than that. No one believed him, even
though it could've happened. Why? Because everyone has known Chook
since our first year of school and when he tells a lie, his mouth
twists up on one side. It always has. The truth was that his older
sister cut her foot on coral and had to go to hospital.
    I was worried. Would the class be able to
tell if I was telling the truth or not, just because they'd known
me for so long?
    When Arabella finished, the whole class
agreed she was telling the truth. Most weekends she went in horse
competitions and she was good at winning. She owned three horses
and there was a special room in her house for all her blue ribbons
and trophies. And, of course, we were right, she'd won another
competition.
    Then Mrs. Kingston, my teacher, looked
straight at me. "Max, your turn."
    I stood and made my way to the front of the
class with the large yellow envelope in my hand. The envelope
contained the evidence. I smiled at everyone before I began. "You
all know that I went to Italy in the holidays, so my mom could meet
her relatives again. Her cousin lives in Venice and she's married
to a policeman. His name is Santo. Charlie and me got to hang out
with him while he was on duty."
    A couple of my classmates groaned. They
already reckoned this story was going to be one of my made up 'Max
stories'.
    "Well this story is about that Venetian job.
Do you sometimes know that something bad is about