The Crims Page 11

  The silence from upstairs was, by contrast, deafening. After several excruciating seconds, it was broken by Jack Wooster saying in a dangerously calm voice, “There’s a bad rat in my house, is there? Sounds like several bad rats to me!”

  Imogen heard his feet walking slowly and deliberately down the stairs. Sam had managed to catch all the rats, but one escaped again, and Imogen was just able to grab it by its horrible, gristly tail. Before she could reflect on what the girls at Lilyworth would say if they could see her now, Jack Wooster reached the bottom of the staircase and saw her. “YOU!” he said, pointing at her.

  “YOU!” she said back, just for something to say, and she ran out of Wooster Mansion for the second time in as many days.

  “QUICK!” she shouted to the Horrible Children as they stumbled across the lawn. “SPOILER: THERE ARE GOING TO BE DOGS!”

  And that’s when the dogs appeared, snarling and gnashing and looking extremely hungry. Imogen pounded across the grass but tripped over a clump of mud and fell. She sprawled face-first on the ground, with the sound of angry dogs getting closer and closer.

  Delia stopped and reached out her hand to help Imogen up.

  “Thanks,” Imogen said breathlessly as she got back on her feet.

  They made one final push and raced for the gates, and just in time—they forced them open and slammed them shut before the dogs could get them.

  “STUPID DOGS!” shouted Jack Wooster, panting past his toilet roll–shaped waterfall as the animals ran back to him, their tails between their strangely short legs.

  The dogs were pretty stupid, Imogen realized as she and the Horrible Children collapsed in a heap on the pavement. She’d managed to outrun them twice, and she’d always come in last in the one-hundred-meter race on sports day. Maybe Jack wasn’t such a great Amateur Dangerous Dog Breeder after all.

  Imogen looked around at her cousins. They were all grinning at her, as if they were really seeing her for the first time.

  Delia reached out and hugged her. “So you haven’t forgotten how to be a Crim after all,” she said.

  “Of course I haven’t,” said Imogen, though honestly, she was a bit relieved.

  “Good to have you back,” smiled Sam, holding out his arms so that Assassin, his smallest rat, could run across them.

  Imogen blushed. She didn’t really go in for emotional declarations. “Yes,” she said. “And we’ll soon have all the other Crims back too. Because I think I finally have some proof that they didn’t steal the lunch box. Plus, now I know who wanted it, apart from Uncle Clyde.” She pulled the letter from Charm Ltd. out of her pocket and held it up to show her cousins.

  “Wait,” said Delia, taking the letter, her eyes wide with what Imogen could have sworn was admiration. “Did you steal this?”

  “No!” said Imogen, grinning. “I just borrowed it.”

  THE NEXT DAY, Imogen met Mrs. Teakettle at the door as she arrived to look after the Horrible Children. “I’m so sorry,” she said before Mrs. Teakettle could take off her coat, “I should have called you before you came all the way out here—Isabella is still a bit pukey, so it’s probably best if I look after the kids again today.”

  “She’s still sick?” said Mrs. Teakettle, looking actually disappointed. She really does like the Horrible Children, Imogen realized, impressed. “How about the others? Are they eating again? How are their bowel movements?”

  “Uh, terrible,” Imogen replied, not looking in Mrs. Teakettle’s eyes. “I don’t think any of us are quite over it, honestly. The loo is getting quite a workout! Ha . . .”

  Mrs. Teakettle’s eyes narrowed. “Have you cleaned with bleach? Norovirus is notoriously hard to get out of a toilet.”

  “I keep cleaning and cleaning, but then someone uses the loo again and, well—I’m afraid we’re still probably terribly contagious. You really don’t want to come in here.” Stop talking, she told herself. “The fewer the details, the more believable the lie”; that was one of the very first things Big Nana had taught her. Imogen smiled at Mrs. Teakettle apologetically. “I’m so sorry for wasting your time.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work,” said Mrs. Teakettle, patting Imogen’s hand. “Why don’t you let me come in to help? You’re probably still recovering yourself.”

  “Recovering?” said Imogen. “No, no—I’ll look after the kids today. I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

  “I have immunity.” Mrs. Teakettle tried to enter the house, but Imogen barred her way. Mrs. Teakettle looked at her with surprise.

  “I think this is a particularly rare strain . . .,” said Imogen, getting desperate.

  “I have immunity to almost everything,” said Mrs. Teakettle, with a steely smile. “I was a very unlucky child, illness-wise.”

  Imogen looked at the babysitter. Was she imagining things, or was Mrs. Teakettle challenging her to come up with a better excuse? “Look,” said Imogen. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you. The truth is, I’ve missed my cousins terribly. I’ve been away at school, you see. But now I’m back and . . . and I want to look after them by myself today.”

  Mrs. Teakettle raised her eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say so?” she said. “I don’t blame you—they’re such a delight! Just give me a call when you want me to come back.”

  Imogen breathed a sigh of relief. That had been more difficult than she’d anticipated. As she watched the babysitter drive away in her tiny car, she called out to the Horrible Children, “The pigeon has flown the nest!”

  “Finally,” Delia called back. “That bird was always pooping on my bike.”

  “Not an actual pigeon—Mrs. Teakettle! Operation Charm Offensive has commenced!”

  Imogen felt nervous. Good nervous. Operation Charm Offensive wasn’t just an idea scribbled in her notebook anymore—it was real. She hadn’t come up with such a complicated plan since she and Delia had plotted to fly to New York on the back of an American eagle and steal the top of the Chrysler Building to use as a playhouse. But they’d never actually put that plan into action due to inclement weather. Would they really be able to pull this plan off? They would have to pull it off if Imogen ever wanted to get back to school.

  And she did.

  Even if this was the first time she’d thought of Lilyworth since they’d left for the Ratcatcher Swindle.

  “Imogen? Ready?” called Delia from upstairs.

  “Yes,” said Imogen, nodding to herself. “Let’s do this.”

  The Horrible Children started trooping downstairs one by one, dressed in what they imagined ordinary people wore on their summer holidays. Delia was dressed as a pineapple, “because it’s a summery fruit”; Henry had given himself a new fake tattoo on his forehead that read “Sunburn Kills”; and Sam was wearing a tuxedo, for no apparent reason. “Remember what Big Nana used to tell us?” he said when he saw Imogen’s puzzled face. “You always blend in in a tuxedo. Unless you forget to put on your trousers.”

  “Which is why Freddie always gets arrested at cocktail parties,” said Imogen.

  “What’s that?” asked Freddie, emerging from the kitchen with a piece of thoroughly burned toast. He glanced at each of the Horrible Children and frowned. “Where are you all off to?” he asked. “I thought I told you, if they ever threw another formal party at the Produce Mart, I want to come too!”

  Imogen felt a bit guilty, but her stomach tightened at Freddie’s unexpected appearance. The last thing we need is him coming along and screwing it up somehow!

  “No such luck, Freddie,” Delia said, touching his shoulder and pouting slightly. “We’re off to something really boring, really.” She shot Imogen a look.

  “Yes,” agreed Imogen. “We’re—uh—”

  “Off to a formal ballroom dancing lesson,” Sam said squeakily.

  “With monkeys,” added Henry. When Delia glared at him, he added, “Boring monkeys.”

  Freddie laughed. “That sounds terrible! Who signed you up for that?”

  “Imogen,
” Delia replied quickly. “You know what a stick-in-the-mud she is!”

  “That’s her idea of fun!” added Henry.

  Imogen cleared her throat. “I just thought it would be fun to spend some time with my cousins while I’m home,” she said. “I gave Mrs. Teakettle the day off. Would you like to come?”

  Freddie shook his head. “Oh, thanks, but no,” he said. He picked up his toast and took a bite. It crumbled into a thousand shiny black crumbs. “Got a big exam tomorrow,” he added through a mouthful of charcoal. “I’ve got to study all day.”

  Ironic, thought Imogen, since he can never remember to show up for the exam. “All right . . . well, happy studying.” When he wandered back off into the kitchen, Imogen turned back to her other cousins and asked, “And the twins?”

  “Still getting ready,” said Delia. “But it’ll be worth it when you see their outfits.”

  Imogen checked her notebook. “Right. While we’re waiting, let’s go over what we know about Charm Ltd. so far.”

  “They’re the company who created Captain Crook,” said Sam.

  “Correct,” said Imogen, feeling a little more confident. The Horrible Children had actually done their crimework for once. (Crimework is like homework, but with no grades and more potential for death if you get it wrong.)

  “Actually, after you went to bed last night, I found a tip on a toy merchandising website,” said Delia, pulling a banana-shaped pen from her watermelon-shaped handbag. “Turns out, Charm Ltd. is about to launch a new character called Captain Caring.”

  “Hmmmm,” said Imogen, struggling to take in two new bits of information. One, Charm Ltd.’s sudden possible motive. Two, that Delia had actually worked harder to find answers than she had. She looked at her cousin with new admiration.

  “He sounds rubbish,” said Henry.

  “He is,” said Delia. “It says on their marketing materials ‘Captain Caring is a police officer with a heart of gold and a complete dedication to law and order.’”

  “What kind of role model is that for the children of today?” said Sam, shaking his head.

  “I know!” said Delia. “And it gets worse: They’re launching the character by giving away free action figures with every Fatty Meal at PigMonster restaurants.”

  “They’re dragging hamburgers into this?” said Sam. “Is nothing sacred?”

  “Apparently not,” Imogen said grimly. “If this is all true, then Charm Ltd. is pouring billions into making Captain Caring a success.” She paused, tapping her chin. “So . . . it would be very embarrassing for them if someone dug up anything about Captain Crook.”

  “Exactly,” said Delia. “Captain Crook was evil and fun and encouraged preschoolers to break the law, and these days Charm Ltd. is all about family values and following the rules and being boring. Like Imogen.” But she smiled.

  Imogen stifled her own smile and rolled her eyes instead. “The point is,” she said, “it’s obvious from the letter I found in Jack’s desk that Charm Ltd. is trying to track down all the Captain Crook products that are still out there. They seem to want to destroy them, so that they can pretend he never existed at all. Charm Ltd. is probably the one who put our family in jail. So what are we going to do?”

  “Go to jail as well?” Henry said hopefully.

  “No,” said Imogen. “We’re going to prove Charm Ltd. is the real criminal and save the day! What are we waiting for?”

  “Us!” called one of the twins from the top of the stairs. Imogen looked up and saw Nick or Nate, whoever it was, wobbling unsteadily downstairs in a trench coat. He seemed to have grown to about twice his normal height. Almost exactly twice, in fact. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he towered above Imogen, which was strange, because the twins were the shortest of the Crims (except Isabella), and they never towered above anything, except very small things, obviously, like fleas and cutlery made for dolls’ houses.

  Imogen nodded approvingly. She pulled open the trench coat and saw the other twin grinning back at her, holding his brother’s feet on his shoulders. Imogen shut the coat again.

  “Very nice,” Imogen said. “Let’s hear your concerned-dad voice.”

  Nick (or Nate) coughed and lowered his voice several octaves. “I’ve never seen such low-quality cotton candy!” he said. “It’s like trying to chew on plastic netting!”

  “Perfect!” said Imogen. “That means we’re ready.” Her heart was hammering. “Aren’t we?” She looked at the extremely detailed notes she’d written. “Do we have everything?”

  “Relax,” said Delia, touching her arm. Imogen nodded, eyes still on her notebook.

  “Look at me,” said Delia.

  Imogen looked into her cousin’s eyes.

  “We can do this,” said Delia. Her eyes were warm, and she wore just the hint of a smile.

  “We can do this,” repeated Imogen, closing her notebook and straightening her spine. This time, she let herself mimic Delia’s smile.

  “We’ve got one another’s backs,” said Delia. “Right?”

  “Right,” said Imogen, nodding, her heart still racing, but in a good way. This isn’t fear, she realized, it’s excitement! It had been so long that it had taken a while for her to recognize it.

  Sam insisted that they take a really long and complicated route, just in case they were being tailed. They took a train to London and then a coach to Liverpool, then a bus to Skegness, where they stopped for some ice cream. Then they took a donkey to another part of Skegness, then a fishing boat to Land’s End, and then a very empty to train to their final destination: Charmtopia.

  Charmtopia was a theme park featuring all the famous Charm Ltd. characters (except Captain Crook, of course). It was also the headquarters of Charm Ltd., which was, of course, the reason Imogen and the Horrible Children were on a train pulling into Charmtopia station. If they were going to find evidence linking Charm Ltd. to The Heist anywhere, it would be here.

  As the train stopped, Imogen realized why it was so empty: Charmtopia was not charming at all anymore. When she’d been here with Big Nana as a child, she had loved the place. Everything had been shiny and clean and full of hope and possibility, like really nice new gym shoes before you realize you’re not very good at running. But now, the name Charmtopia seemed ironic, like whoever had chosen it had a dark sense of humor—the sort of person who would give you a piece of chocolate cake, wait until you’d eaten half of it, and then tell you it was actually made of rat vomit. Imogen looked out of the train window and shuddered slightly as she saw the huge face of the Friendly Clown looking down at her. The Friendly Clown was one of Charm Ltd.’s oldest characters. She had loved the smiling clown when she was younger, but Charmtopia hadn’t bothered changing the lightbulbs that made up his face, so now, instead of smiling, the clown was frowning. Isabella pointed to him and started to cry. Imogen felt amazed that Charmtopia was still open at all. Charm Ltd. hadn’t had a big hit since Imogen’s parents were young. Rumors were always swirling that they were about to close the place down, but here it was.

  Anyway, they weren’t here to have fun. “Come on, then!” she said, standing up and clapping her hands. “Who wants to go on a ride?”

  None of her cousins moved.

  “Come on,” she said. “Charmtopia’s great!”

  “You obviously haven’t been here for a while,” said Sam.

  “Well, no,” she said. She tried to think back to the last time she’d been. She and Delia had had an amazing time on the Princess Kindness water ride. (Princess Kindness rode dolphins and taught children how important it was not to waste water, so the ride was pretty ironic when you thought about it.) The twins had been toddlers at the time, and they’d had a great time on the Helpful Baby merry-go-round. (The Helpful Baby was a baby who helped other babies. No one really knew how, exactly.) Considering the strength of Charm Ltd.’s other characters, it wasn’t that surprising they were pinning all their hopes on Captain Caring.

  “Last time I came here, it was
with Big Nana,” said Delia as the Horrible Children began to file off the train. “She managed to lock us into the Happy Monster roller coaster so we couldn’t get out, and I had to pretend to be terrified, and she persuaded the management to give us a skip-the-queues pass for the rest of the day!”

  Delia smiled at the memory. Imogen smiled too. She wondered what Big Nana would think of the plan they were about to carry out.

  Charmtopia was actually surprisingly fun considering how completely creepy and broken-down the whole place was. As soon as they walked in, they were accosted by unnaturally cheerful people dressed as Charm Ltd. characters. Imogen was impressed with the employees’ commitment—they didn’t break character, no matter how hard Delia tried to make them. First, Delia asked Princess Kindness how she’d ended up working in such a dump. But Princess Kindness just smiled and told her that she loved making the people of Charmtopia happy and sprinkling glitter on their boring everyday lives. Then Delia told her she’d seen a sad-looking kitten stuck up a tree at the other end of the park, and the princess ran off to try to cheer it up. Then Delia turned to the person dressed as the Helpful Baby. She asked her a series of questions: “Could you tie my shoes?” “How would you get to New York from here?” and “Can you do an impression of a dachshund?” The Helpful Baby was very helpful in each instance (though her dachshund impression was really more of a cocker spaniel).

  Imogen and the Horrible Children explored all three sections of Charmtopia, which spiraled out from a huge blue castle in the center of the park. First, they visited Imagineland, which featured unimaginably terrible rides full of giant, animatronic teddy bears and dolls and puppets. Then they went to Yesterland, a medieval village of monarchs, peasants, and serfs (who did not take kindly to Delia’s suggestion of an uprising). And finally, Futureland, which was actually the least futuristic thing Imogen had ever seen, including her father’s collection of vintage calculators. It featured an underground bunker called “the Home of Tomorrow” and was full of robots in 1950s clothing that were listening to the wireless and getting very excited about elastic waistbands. When Henry started tagging his name on the future robots’ faces, Imogen decided it was time to get back to business.