“It's okay,” I say, returning her laugh. “I've read too many adventure stories.”
I'm feeling wonderfully happy sitting here with Annabel when the cafeteria door flies open and Bill strides toward us. “We have to go,” he says in a voice loud and urgent enough to turn the heads of the other cafeteria patrons.
“What is it?” Annabel and I say at the same instant, but Bill's already past us, heading for the parking lot.
“Someone's stolen the
Loch Ard
peacock,” he shouts over his shoulder.
“How did this happen?” Bill asks. “In broad daylight!” We're surrounded by shards of broken glass and staring at the empty pedestal where the
Loch Ard
peacock used to be.
“Somebody must have seen something,” Annabel says. “The peacock's not small. The cops'll get it back.”
“In how many pieces?” Bill asks miserably.
Annabel moves away from the pedestal, crouches down and stares at something on the floor.
“What is it?” I ask, joining her. She seems to be studying the silver lock. The halves of the lock lie side by side. They don't look damaged, but one wouldn't expect them to be, since the thieves shattered the case rather than forcing the lock.
Before Annabel can respond, the police inspector sticks his head around a display. “We're done here,” he says. “I've got a couple of officers interviewing the neighbors to see if anyone saw anything suspicious. Forensics is still dusting for prints, so don't touch anything, but as soon as he's done you can begin cleaning up.”
“Thank you,” Bill says. “Do you have any leads yet?”
“Too early to know. We'll review all the interviews and see what that tells us, and forensics will narrow fingerprints down to those that don't belong to the staff. It'll take time.”
“I suppose so,” Bill says. “Thanks again.”
We move through to the staff room. “Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Sturridge,” Penny says as we enter. “I should have seen something.”
Bill pours himself a coffee and we all sit at the table. “I know you've probably had to tell the police everything three or four times, but could you go over it once more for me?”
“Of course, Mr. Sturridge,” Penny says. She's tiny, no more than five feet one or two, and so delicate that she looks more fragile than the peacock did. Her short hair is dyed jet black. Her face is red from crying. “I was just coming out of the washroom when I heard a crash from the museum. I thought something had fallen over, you know, after the storm last night.” Penny sniffs and blows her nose loudly.
“Did you go straight through?” Bill asks.
“No, I went back to the front desk to make sure everything was all right there first.”
“Was it?” Bill asks.
“Yes. The front doors were locked, and there was no one in the parking lot.”
“No suspicious vehicles?”
Penny shakes her head dejectedly. “Then I went though to the museum. It was like you saw itâglass from the smashed case everywhere and the peacock gone. I'm afraid I screamed.”
“I would have as well,” Annabel says gently. “Were the electricians still here?”
“No. They left about half an hour before I heard the crash. They said the alarms were fixed and not to forget to arm them when we left.”
“So it was just you and Pete here?” Bill asked.
“Yes. Ms. MacAuley called in sick.”
“I know,” Bill said thoughtfully. “She texted me this morning. Did you hear the crash, Pete?”
“I heard Penny scream. I was on the balcony having a smoke. When I came in, she was standing by the broken case.”
“And you didn't see anyone suspicious round back?”
“No.”
“This is impossible.” Bill stands up. He's talking loudly and almost shaking with anger. “The peacock's a meter and a half tall and weighs forty-five kilos. It can't just vanish. I want this entire place searched. Sam, will you help?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Good. I'll search the museum. The four of you split up the village. Search every space big enough to hide the peacock. Don't forget
Reggie
and
Rowitta
. I want to be absolutely certain that the peacock's not on this property.”
“So, it's not here,” Annabel says. We're sitting on
Reggie
's deck, tired and confused. Penny has gone back up to the museum, and Pete is sitting sullenly on the dock across the pond from us. I have an uncomfortable feeling that something is wrong, but I can't figure out what. Pete flicks a cigarette butt out over the water, stands and, without a glance in our direction, heads back up to the museum.
We have searched every building in the heritage village. Annabel and I have even double-checked some of the buildings in Pete's search area, since we felt he wasn't taking the job seriously. Nothing. We're both certain the peacock isn't hidden anywhere in the village.
“So where is it?” I ask. “Like Bill said, it's impossible.”
“It happened, so it's obviously possible,” Annabel says. “We just need to think it through rationally.”
“Pi's not going to help us here,” I say more harshly than I intend.
“Probably not,” Annabel says, showing no sign that I have offended her. “But what Pi representsâscience, rationalism, clear thinkingâwill.”
“How?” I ask glumly. The excitement from the morning's discovery and Annabel's accident has vanished. It's midafternoon, and it's hot. I'm hungry, thirsty and fed up, and my bandaged hand is throbbing. “Science can't explain everything.”
“Maybe the
Loch Ard
peacock was taken by aliens.” I turn and stare at Annabel. She looks serious. “That's ridiculous.”
“Hmmm. Perhaps you're right. If aliens can travel across space, they probably have the technology to take the peacock without breaking the case. How about ghosts? A lot of people died on the
Loch Ard
. Maybe all their ghosts got together to take the peacock back. Or superheroes? Thor could have smashed the case easy, and the Flash could have taken the peacock away so fast, no one could have seen him.”
“This is stupid,” I say, drifting back to the idea that Annabel is insane. “None of those suggestions makes any sense.”
“Exactly,” Annabel says with a smile. “So what are we left with? Someone very human, who stole the peacock in a way we haven't yet been able to work out. The only way we're going to solve this is by thinking logicallyâthe kind of thinking that produced Pi. Now, we can sit here feeling sorry for ourselves, or we can examine what we know.” Annabel is right. I
have
been feeling sorry for myself. “Okay,” I say. “Let's look at it rationally. But can we do it somewhere that sells Coke and French fries?”
Annabel laughs and stands up. “I know just the place.”
“Okay, so what do we know for sure?” Annabel is businesslike, complete with pencil poised over a notebook. We're in a diner that makes me feel as if I'm in a movie about the birth of rock'n'roll. The countertops are red Formica, and gleaming chrome-and-plastic swivel chairs are lined along a bar. There's a shiny soda fountain, and Buddy Holly is warbling away in the background. I'm halfway through my second CokeâI don't think the first one even touched the sides of my throat on the way downâand chomping through a plate of the best fries I've ever eaten.
I doubt Annabel wants me to answer her question, so I dip another fry in ketchup and keep eating. Sure enough, she goes on. “The last time we know the peacock was there for sure was about a half hour before Penny heard the crash. That was before the electricians left.”
“Could the electricians have taken it? They had a truck parked out front.” I like to think I'm contributing.
“Good idea.” Annabel writes,
Electricians?
in her notebook. “Trouble is, we have two problems. One, they didn't carry anything as big as the peacock out the front door, or Penny would have noticed. And two, they left before the case was smashed.” Annabel puts another two question marks beside
Electricians?
“After the electricians left, there was only Pete and Penny. Penny was at the front desk except for when she went to the washroom, but we don't know where Pete was. Could he have stolen it?”
“Not on his own,” I say. “Where would he put it?”
“Besides, Pete wouldn't need to smash the caseâhe has a key.” Annabel puts Pete's name in the book but follows it with a question mark.
“So someone else,” I suggest.
Annabel writes,
Someone else
. “Okay. Someone else comes in and steals the peacock, someone who was tipped off that the power on the alarms would be out.”
“Pete could have tipped off his dad.”
Annabel rubs her chin thoughtfully. “That doesn't sound like Kelly. It's not the way he works. I'm not certain that he and Pete are smart enough to pull off something this complicated. And, don't forget, Kelly was at the wreck with us when the peacock was stolen.”
“He could still be involved,” I say weakly.
“I suppose so.” Annabel puts
Kelly
beside
Someone else
and adds the inevitable question marks.
“We've got an awful lot of question marks,” I point out.
“I know,” Annabel says. She chews the end of her pencil. “I don't see how we get around Penny hearing the crash. Even with her going back to her desk first, there's not enough time for anyone to get the peacock out, into a vehicle and away. I don't see how the timing can possibly work.”
“So we're heading back to impossible.”
“No. We're missing something.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes. Annabel doodles in her notebook, and I finish off my fries. Annabel is drawing keys and locks. Suddenly, she stops. “You saw the lock for the peacock's case lying on the floor?”
“Yeah,” I say, wondering why this is important.
“It hadn't been forced?”
“Didn't look like it. But whoever stole the peacock didn't need to force the lock. They simply went through the case with a club of some sort.”
“Exactly. So why was the lock open?”
“It fell apart when the case shattered?” I suggest.
Annabel shakes her head. “It was a high-tech lock. You'd need explosives to get it apart without a key.”
Realization dawns on me slowly. “So the case was unlocked with a key.”
Annabel nods. “And then someone smashed it to make us think that was how the peacock was stolen. That solves our time problem. The thieves had a full half hour after the electricians left to remove the peacock. The peacock was long gone when the case was smashed.”
“By Pete? Then he ran out onto the deck so that Penny wouldn't find him beside the smashed case,” I suggest.
“Maybe,” Annabel says thoughtfully. “That would explain why Pete only came in when he heard Penny scream, not when the crash happened.”
“So Pete's the thief ?” I say.
Annabel's brow furrows as she concentrates. “But he couldn't have worked alone, and we still have no idea how the peacock was removed. It wasn't taken to the road, and it wasn't hidden in the village. It couldn't have been carried very farâsomeone would have noticed, and there wasn't a lot of time.”
Again we lapse into silence. I'm trying to imagine what happened. I do my best imagining out loud. “The electricians leave,” I say. “Pete lets his accomplices in and opens the peacock case. At least two accomplices take the peacock out the back, so Penny doesn't see them. Pete comes back into the museum, smashes the case and then goes out onto the deck. He probably assumed that Penny wouldn't hear the crash.”
“She wouldn't have heard it if she'd been at her desk instead of near the washroom,” Annabel says. “He probably intended for more time to pass before the theft was discovered. But when he heard Penny's scream, he had to go back in.”
“So Pete's involved.” I keep thinking aloud. “An international dealer is paying Pete, and maybe Kelly, to steal the peacock for him.” Then another problem surfaces. “But how could someone in New York or wherever know there was going to be a storm last night that knocked out the power?”
“He didn't,” Annabel says excitedly, the words tumbling out of her. “The plan was to steal the peacock at night. That's why Pete was so keen to work the night shift. That way he could power down the alarm system and have plenty of time to remove the peacock. They were ready to go, but they got tired of waiting and saw the power cut as an opportunity.” She calms down and frowns. “Of course, this is all speculation, and it doesn't answer all the questions.”
“So what do we do?”
Annabel closes her eyes. She has the look of concentration she has when she's reciting Pi. “If we're right and the thieves were taking advantage of the storm, I doubt they were ready to ship the peacock out of Warrnambool. It's still here, but it'll be gone soon, probably tonight.” She opens her eyes and stares at me. “Is there anything else we could have missed?”
It's my turn to close my eyes as I run back through the events, from arriving at the museum to searching the village. Nothing jumps out at me until I remember sitting on
Reggie
, watching Pete as he smoked his cigarette on the dock.
“That's it!” I shout, startling Annabel and the waitress. “When we were on
Reggie
, Pete was on the dock across from us.”
“Ye-es,” Annabel agrees warily.
“His legs were dangling off the end of the dock. When you showed me the village yesterday, there was a red rowboat there. Today it was gone. Has anybody moved it?”
“I don't think anyone was at the pond today except us.” Annabel sounds interested.
“Does the pond still link to the sea?” I ask.