Selby Supersnoop (6 page)

‘The Trifles are too trusting,’ he said. ‘Anyone could come along and steal the car. Car thieves are always on the lookout for cars with their keys in them.’

Selby pulled the front curtains apart and peered out into the darkness.

‘I’ll just keep an eye out to make sure that Vivian what’s-her-name — and not some car thief — takes the car.’

No sooner were these words out of his mouth than Selby saw the dark shape of a man walking down Bunya-Bunya Crescent. When he got to the Trifles’ car he stopped and peered in through the window.

‘Hey, what’s he up to?’ Selby thought. ‘What am I saying — there’s nothing wrong with looking in a car window. This is no time to panic. My imagination’s running away with me. But, wait! He’s opening the door! He’s getting into the car! It’s panic time!’

Before he had time to think, Selby cranked open the window and yelled, ‘Get out of there!’ in his deepest, most car thief-frightening voice.

The man looked around wondering where the voice had come from.

‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.

Selby stood there with his paws on the windowsill in full view of the man.

‘Crumbs, he’s looking right at me now,’ Selby thought. ‘I’ve got to stay calm, keep my mouth shut, look innocent, and get away from the window. But how am I going to keep him from stealing the Trifles’ car?’

Selby got down and trotted into the study. He picked up the telephone and dialled.

‘Bogusville police,’ the voice said. ‘How may I help you?’

‘I’d like to report a car theft,’ Selby said.

‘Could I have your name and address please?’

‘There’s no time for that,’ Selby said. ‘This is an emergency! Just get down here before he steals the car!’

‘So the car isn’t stolen yet?’

‘No, not yet — but he’s working on it.’

‘Then it’s not a car theft.’

‘But it’s about to be one,’ Selby said, listening as the Trifles’ car started.

‘So what you’re actually reporting, technically speaking, is a theft-in-progress.’

‘Theft, theft-in-progress,’ Selby said. ‘What’s the difference? It’s on Bunya-Bunya Crescent and — hey! He’s driving away! Is it okay to call it a car theft now? It’s a red car! Get down here quickly!’

Selby slammed down the phone and ran out of the house.

‘I’ve got to stop him!’ he said, racing down the street. ‘I don’t know how but at least I’ve got to try!’

Selby was puffed and about to turn back when he saw the Trifles’ car stop for a red light. At the same time a police siren wailed in the distance.

‘I’ve got it,’ Selby said as he got closer to the Trifles’ car. ‘If I can catch him before the light changes, I’ll hop on and ride along.’

Just as the light turned green, Selby got to the back of the car, crept quietly up onto its back and then up onto the roof.

‘He can’t see me up here,’ Selby thought. ‘Now all I have to do is figure out how to stop him.’

As the car sped off, Selby’s feet slid backwards over the slippery surface.

‘Oops! This guy’s driving like a maniac! I’ve got to grab hold of something — but there’s nothing to grab!’

Selby hooked his claws between the metal strip and the top of the windscreen and lay flat
on top of the car as it sped down the street towards the centre of Bogusville. The sound of the siren came closer and closer.

Finally the police car came round the corner, its blue light flashing, the police officer waving out the window.

‘Oh, good,’ Selby squealed. ‘They’re about to catch him!’

The Trifles’ car slowed and then stopped as the police car approached. Sergeant Short pointed his torch into the car.

‘Oh, it’s you, Vivian,’ he said. ‘I thought you were a car thief. Someone’s just stolen a red car and I thought it might be this one.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ the driver said. ‘I’m just taking the Trifles’ car to the car wash.’

‘Vivian?’ Selby thought as he flattened himself even flatter against the top of the car. ‘This guy is the mechanic! I forgot that Vivian can be a man’s name, too! All this time I thought Vivian was a woman!’

‘Off you go, then,’ Sergeant Short said. Then he added, ‘I see you’re taking the mayor’s dog out for a bit of fresh air.’

The policeman laughed as he tore away.

‘The mayor’s dog?’ Vivian mumbled. ‘What’s he on about? I think this crime wave is beginning to make the cops crack.’

‘That was too close!’ Selby thought. ‘I’d better get down from here quick before he starts up again!’

Selby was about to climb down when he realised that his claws were caught. He tugged and tugged but they were stuck so tight that he couldn’t work them loose. Just then, Vivian put the car in gear and started off again.

‘Oh, no!’ Selby thought. ‘How will I ever get loose?’

Selby tugged again but it was no use. His claws were wedged so tight that no amount of pulling would pull them loose.

Finally the car slowed and turned into the Clean-as-a-Whistle Car Washatorium.

But instead of getting out of the car, Vivian drove it straight into the Whirligig Auto Washer and Blow-Drying Machine, quickly pushing the buttons that turned it on before rolling up his window again.

‘Ouch! That stings my eyes!’ Selby thought as a hundred jets of warm soapy water hit him in
the face and the huge scrubbing brushes came closer and closer. ‘Oh, no! If this contraption doesn’t drown me, it’ll brush me to death!’

For the next few minutes, Selby was washed, rinsed, waxed and scrubbed to within an inch of his life. Finally the car moved to the end of the machine and he saw the giant whirring buffing wheels coming towards him.

‘Those things really will kill me!’ he thought. ‘What does it matter if I give away my secret now? I’ve got to save my life!’

‘Help!’ he screamed in plain English. ‘Turn this monster off before it skins me alive!’

Above the roar of the Whirligig Auto Buffer and Blow-Drying Machine, Selby heard a faint voice.

‘Who said that?’ Vivian called.

‘I did!’ Selby yelled back. ‘I’m stuck on top of the car! Just shut the machine off before it kills me! I don’t care if you know that I know how to talk.’

‘I can’t shut it off,’ the mechanic yelled back. ‘It’s got to finish its cycle! Who are you anyway? And how did you get up there? What’s this about knowing how to talk?’

‘Oh, this is stupid,’ Selby mumbled as the buffing wheels crept to within a millimetre of him. ‘What a way to go — buffed to death in a car wash!’

Just then, the wheels hit him, pulling his claws loose and hurling him through the air and into the bushes on the other side of the road. Selby watched as the car finally came out of the car wash. Vivian jumped out and looked on top.

‘Where are you?’ he cried. ‘Why, there’s nobody here. My goodness me, the police aren’t
the only ones who are going crackers around here — all this crime-wave stuff must be getting to me too!’

Selby ran home and tore through the hole at the back of the garage and into the lounge-room just as the Trifles came through the front door.

‘Just in time,’ he thought. ‘Now if I can keep from panting, they’ll never know I’ve been running.’

Dr Trifle plonked himself down on the lounge and started patting Selby.

‘I take back what I said about Selby needing a bath,’ he said.

‘But you thought he needed one,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘I did, but now his fur is all nice and fluffy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d been to a hairdresser or something.’

‘You’re right,’ Mrs Trifle said, patting Selby’s head. ‘It’s as if he’s had his fur washed and blown dry. What a laugh!’

‘Just my luck,’ Selby thought, happy to be alive and back home with the Trifles. ‘Right in the middle of a crime wave, I end up with a blow-wave!’

‘That Jerry fellow built us a beautiful swimming pool,’ Mrs Trifle said.

She looked at the picture in the Jerry-Built Pools brochure and compared it with the new pool in the Trifles’ backyard.

‘The only problem is that it’s in the wrong place.’

‘We can’t move it now,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘You should have said something before it was built.’

‘I mean it shouldn’t be under that tree. I’d hate to have the tree cut down, but it’s such a bother scooping leaves out of the water. Look! There goes one now!’

Mrs Trifle pointed to a leaf that drifted down
from the top of the tree. It landed in the pool and floated like a tiny boat.

‘You were the one who wanted the pool under the tree so we wouldn’t get sunburnt when we were swimming. Remember?’

‘I guess I wasn’t thinking about the leaves.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Dr Trifle said, giving one of his little scientist smiles, ‘I have the perfect answer.’

‘You have an answer to leaves?’

‘Certainly. Just watch and you’ll see how JAWS will solve everything.’

‘JAWS? What exactly are JAWS?’

‘JAWS isn’t a them; it’s an it. It’s my new leaf-catching invention. It takes the worry — and the leaves — out of swimming pools.’

‘An invention to do that? How exciting! I’ll bet JAWS stands for Justifiable Attenuated Water Sucker or some such science talk,’ said Mrs Trifle, knowing how her husband named his inventions.

‘No, this time it doesn’t stand for anything. It’s just plain old JAWS, like in your mouth. Watch what happens to that leaf.’

Selby lay nearby in the bushes secretly reading The Art of the Private Investigator and
watching the Trifles out of the corner of his eye.

‘I can’t wait till they go out so I can enjoy the new pool,’ he thought. ‘I’ll sit on the edge and dangle my feet in the water to cool off.’

Just as he was thinking this last thought, a giant shark’s head suddenly rose from the water, snapped up the leaf in its huge jaws, and disappeared again to the sound of Mrs Trifle’s piercing screams.

‘Help! Call the police!’ she cried. ‘Did you see that? There’s a monster in our new swimming pool!’

Dr Trifle laughed.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ he said. ‘It’s not a real shark. It’s just JAWS, my leaf-gobbler.’

Mrs Trifle stepped forward, looking down into the water.

‘You mean — that shark is a machine?’

‘It’s made of fibreglass and has rubberised teeth. I only made it look like a shark to make it more fun.’

‘Fun?! It’s about as much fun as falling down stairs! Get it out of there this instant. I refuse to swim with that contraption in there.’

‘But why?’

‘Because it’ll mistake me for a leaf and gobble me up, that’s why.’

‘No, no, you don’t understand. It can’t possibly eat you.’

‘Are you kidding? That thing could eat a car.’

‘But darling, it’s perfectly safe because it’s got EYES,’ Dr Trifle explained.

‘And teeth the size of bread knives too!’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘No, EYES aren’t the little beady things on the sides of its head. EYES is science talk for Energy-Yield Evaluation System. It’s programmed to only gobble up little things that come fluttering down — like leaves. You have nothing to worry about. You’re not little and you don’t flutter. In fact, you’re quite large and when you plunge into the water you make quite a large splash.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ Mrs Trifle said, ‘but I still don’t trust it — EYES or no EYES.’

‘I’ll show you how safe it is,’ Dr Trifle said, leaping into the pool, clothes and all. ‘See? It didn’t eat me, so it won’t eat you. It’s perfectly safe.’

‘Rubberised or fibreised, I just wish it wasn’t so horrible-looking. My goodness!’ Mrs Trifle cried, looking at her watch. ‘Quick! We have to buy the food for the council barbecue before the shops close! Get yourself back to dry land and get a wriggle on.’

In minutes, Dr Trifle had changed into dry clothes and the two of them were out the door and driving down Bunya-Bunya Crescent towards the shops.

When they were safely away from the house, Selby crept out of the bushes and picked up the brochure. In it were photos of swimming pools and lots of smiling people diving and swimming and playing in the water.

‘This is torture,’ he said. ‘Here I am, hot and bothered, and the only place to cool off is in a shark-infested swimming pool! I want to be happy and smiley like the people in the pictures. I could dangle my feet in the water but what if that monster gives me the big chomp? It might recognise a people dangly foot when it sees one, but what if it thinks mine is a big furry leaf?’