The Venetian Job (9 page)

Luca maneuvered the police boat alongside
the bad guys' boat, and Santo and Luca stepped into the bad guys'
boat to talk to the
Carabinieri
.
They were chatting and laughing with one
Carabiniere
like they were at a football match. A
couple of times, Santo turned and pointed to me. I guess he was
telling the
Carabiniere
the whole
story. Santo waved for us to join them and Luca got out his cell
phone and took our photo with Santo and the
Carabiniere
. Then he took a photo of the bad
guys.

Wow! Now I had evidence to show my
class.

Another boat suddenly appeared from nowhere.
There were two passengers - a bloke with a big camera and a lady
who looked like a fashion model, but must've been a reporter
because she had a microphone. After the cameraman got photos of the
bad guys and the
Carabinieri
, the
reporter asked Santo for an interview. Her high heels made it
difficult to stand steady in the boat. We got in their boat and
docked it, so we could stand on the sidewalk.

Charlie and me stood close to Santo, but
since he and the reporter were chattering in Italian we didn't
understand a word. Santo pointed to me and the reporter gave me a
smile. Not long after that, one of the
Carabiniere
came over in his boat and called Santo
and Luca over.

The reporter turned to Charlie and me. She
switched to perfect English and asked Charlie, "Could you please
tell me what part you played in these dramatic events and what 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.

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 to happen? Like
when you kick the football and it's heading straight for the window
of the library. Or when you've left your project on the dining-room
table and the next time you see it it's in your dog's mouth." I
didn't tell them that I'd been praying the whole time I was in
Venice that I'd get a bad feeling.

I told my class about being on the police
boat, about the big art theft that'd happened at a New Year's Eve
party in a palace on the Grand Canal, about The Cursed Mansion,
about the movie being filmed in The Cursed Mansion, about Charlie
and me meeting the film director and about my bad feeling when I
met the first bad guy. Then I told them the details that didn't
make sense, like how the guy with the Save the Whales T-shirt had
pressed down the corner of a painting and about the strange silver
tubes that had been kept hidden.

The whole class seemed to be holding their
breath. When I got to the bit about hiding in the storeroom, I
noticed looks of disbelief. Then by the time I got to the boat
chase, Thomo and Chook were sniggering up the back of the
classroom. They reckoned this was one of my 'Max stories'. By the
time I'd got to the bit about the reporter and the cameraman, even
Mrs. Kingston laughed at me.

When I finished, she said to me, "Great
story, Max." Then she turned to the class and asked, "Hands up who
thinks that is a TRUE story?"

Not one person put up their hand, not even
Mrs. Kingston. Just as I'd hoped.

I picked up the yellow envelope that
everyone had probably thought was one of my tricks, and pulled out
the newspaper article and the photos showing the handcuffed bad
guys, me, Charlie and Santo with a bunch of
Carabiniere
. I handed the newspaper article to a
girl in the class who could read Italian. She read the whole
article aloud, while the photos were passed round the class.

Kids squealed, gasped and carried on like
pork chops.

Mrs. Kingston came over to me. "Max, are you
serious? Is your story really true?"

I couldn't stop grinning. "Yep! Shows that
it's always important to take notice of your
bad feelings.
"

D
ad cut the engine, jerked
on the handbrake and turned round. "These are the rules," he said,
looking from me to Charlie and back to me. "You're both to be
quiet, still and polite." His voice deepened. "At
all
times."

"Yes, Dad," we answered like a pair of
robots.

"This is Sophie and Dan's special day—"

"Daniel," I interrupted, "Sophie wants
everyone to call him Daniel."

Dad glared at me. "He's my brother and I'll
call him what I want."

Another point to me. Charlie and me were
having a competition to see how many times we could annoy Dad
without getting into serious trouble. So far I was winning three to
one.

"I don't want either of you ruining their
special day because you have the attention span of two year olds."
He stared at us as though that would make his message sink in.
"Okay, Charlie?"

"Yes, Dad."

"And Max, absolutely no trouble today!"

"Yes, Dad." I tugged my collar. The tie was
choking me and I felt stupid. I could see myself in the rear-vision
mirror; I looked like a shrunken version of Dad going to work. "It
would be easier to be quiet and still if I didn't have to wear this
tie."

"The tie stays on," Mum said, without
looking up from the murder mystery she was reading.

After she'd read to the end of the page, we
were allowed to get out of the car and hang out at the front of the
stone church with everyone else. There were heaps of people. People
I'd never seen before. All the guys wore suits, which made me feel
less stupid. And there were heaps of gorgeous girls with long shiny
hair and suntans. Dan and Sophie had lived in London for years and
years, so how did they know all these people?

The four of us stood in a circle looking at
each other because we didn't seem to know anyone else. Mum smiled.
"The sunshine is lovely," she said.

"Beautiful," replied Dad, returning her
smile.

My parents were weird. Actually, weddings
were weird. For months everyone had carried on like Dan was a
prince and Sophie was a princess just because they were getting
married. But they'd been living together in a little flat in London
for ages, so it was like they were married anyway. How did dressing
up and going to church change anything?

And Mum and Nanna couldn't wait until Sophie
had a baby. Once Mum told me babies are hard work. She said, when I
was a baby I never slept and I cried all the time. So why did Mum
and Nanna want Sophie to have a baby so much? Maybe they didn't
really like her.

I shrugged. Who knew? I just hoped this day
and night would go real fast. Now that I wasn't the pageboy I might
die of boredom.

A woman wearing a large hat with feathers on
it came up to us. She said to Mum and Dad, "I'm Sophie's mother."
Mum introduced Charlie and me. Sophie's mother patted me on the
head and whispered, "You would've made a very handsome
pageboy."

I smiled, but inside I was mad because I'd
wanted to be the pageboy. I wanted to be standing near Dan when the
minister said,
Now you may kiss the
bride
. I wanted my face in a wedding photo on their
mantelpiece. I wanted the guests to tell me how handsome I was.

And I wanted to do something that Charlie
hadn't done. He'd never been a pageboy. And now he was too old, so
he never would be. Charlie had always been the chosen one. He was
captain of his soccer team again. When he was in grade six he was
captain of Yarra house. And last week the girls in his class voted
him as the boy they'd most like to kiss. It sucked.

Dan had called me from London to ask,
Would you do me the honor of being my
pageboy?
I pretended to think about it for a minute,
before I said,
Yep.
I even went to
get my suit fitted. But three weeks before the wedding, Dan came
over to our place and said,
Sorry sport, Sophie
has changed her mind. You'll find women do that.

I decided I didn't like Sophie and I didn't
want Dan to marry her. Even though I'd seen her photo and she had
beautiful green eyes and smooth skin. Then a week later I met her
when we had a barbeque at Nanna's place. As soon as Sophie saw me,
her hand went over her glossy pink lips and she said,
Oh, you're so cute and just the right
age
.
You would've looked perfect
with Lucy.
She seemed really upset that she'd made a
mistake, so, being the kind, generous person I am, I forgave
her.

I knew then that something fishy was going
on. All I found out was that I'd lost my place in the team to a
five year old named Hamish (tell me, what sort of pageboy is named
Hamish?), who was Sophie's twenty-third cousin or something. But
why? Someone must've told her I wasn't cute enough. Who would've
said that?