The Butler Did It

by Purupuss

The old Hollywood trope is that the butler did it. He always did it... But did he?

2. Chapter 2

It was a restless night where everyone, their minds filled with "whodunnit", got little sleep.

The morning sun found Parker standing on the beach and wishing he was somewhere far away from this place.

Lady Penelope had given him the day off, with the strict instructions that he was to relax. She did not require his assistance and, in the unlikely chance that she did, she would summon him on his watch.

But how could he relax? To Aloysius Parker, Tracy Island was no longer a tropical paradise. Now it felt claustrophobic, where every conversation, no matter how pleasant or inane, had an oppressive undertone. Despite the heat, he felt cold.

A bird screeched somewhere to his right and he flinched. He was a city man and, aside from having to clean the occasional pigeon or sparrow dropping off FAB1, wasn't used to the huge amount of wildlife that roamed free on the island. Even as he watched, skin crawling, a large crab wandered down to the high tide mark, and began sifting its breakfast out of the wet sands.

It wasn't as if anyone had accused him of the thefts, even though nothing in his room had been touched. It was more that each and every one of them were going out of their way to prove to him that they couldn't believe that he would betray them and that they were glad he wasn't a victim too. If they'd said that once, he would have been okay, but they felt the need to ram the point home at every opportunity, as if they were trying to prove it to themselves, as well as to him.

And so here he was; on the beach, clad in a blindingly bright Hawaiian shirt, green Bermuda shorts, socks and sandals, a floppy straw hat; feeling lonely and ostracised, and with no idea how to occupy himself.

Unless...

Unless he solved the mystery. He'd been on the wrong side of the law often enough to know how the old Bill thought. And he'd been with Lady Penelope long enough to know how a top-class investigator worked.

Pleased with his idea he retreated to the cool of his air-conditioned room, grabbed his personal computer, fired up a spreadsheet, and began to take notes.

In column A he listed who the victims were. Column B was what was stolen. Column C recorded where the theft occurred.

Then he began to look for patterns...

-F-A-B-

Scott Tracy was equally keen to discover where their treasures had gone to, but he intended to enlist the help of others to get to the bottom of the mystery. As soon as John was awake, he told him that he planned to have a meeting at the earliest opportunity.

"What about?"

"These..." Scott hesitated over the word thefts. "Disappearances."

"Ah... I wish I could check my room to see if I'm missing anything."

"Do you want me to check it out?"

"No, thanks, Scott. Unless it's glaringly obvious, like my bed, you won't know what's there and what's not."

Scott had to concede that his brother had a good point.

Now, two hours later, alongside three of his brothers and Tin-Tin, and with John looking down from what had been one of Virgil's paintings until seconds earlier, Scott sat in his room and started deliberations. "Right! First let's deal with the elephant in the room. Put your hand up if you don't, that is do not, believe that Parker's responsible."

There was a unanimous showing of hands.

"He's not that stupid." John, emboldened by the fact that he was 36,000 kilometres away from the house, didn't feel the pressure to tip-toe around the subject. "He's an old hand at burgling. He'd know better than to do it some place where there's a limited list of suspects and he'd be head of that list. And he'd take things we wouldn't miss straight away; stuff that he could offload quickly and easily. And why start now when he's had years of opportunities, sometimes when most of us weren't here to catch him out? ... Unless it's a double-bluff."

"John!"

"I'm just saying!" he protested. "I honestly can't believe that Parker's responsible."

"The thing is," Virgil began, "if we take him out of the equation, and I agree we should, it reduces our list of suspects – and each of those suspects is either a member of the family or someone we trust intimately."

"Are you sure we haven't been invaded, John?" Gordon double-checked.

"Very sure," John hmphed. "I checked and re-checked."

"And I checked Father's computer last night," Scott added.

"What!?" John folded his arms in a huff. "So you don't trust me either? Now I know what Parker's going through."

"I didn't do it, because I didn't trust you! I thought a third pair of eyes might see something that you and the computer didn't."

"We all trust you, John," Tin-Tin told him.

"Don't burst your boiler over it, John," Gordon warned his elder brother. "It's gonna get hot enough in here as it is." He turned back to Scott. "How hot does it have to be before you turn the air conditioner on?"

"All right, all right," Scott grumbled. "I'll do it." He got up and slid his window shut before pushing the button that forced cool air into the room. "Happy now?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Let's look at what was stolen," John suggested, deciding to forget his earlier huff. "It's mostly stuff that has a sentimental value over a monetary one... At least to their owner. Speaking of which... Did you have anything taken, Alan?"

"Ah... Yeah."

"Yes?" Gordon looked at his younger brother. "You never said you'd lost anything."

"It was only a, erm, chain," Alan told him with what was supposed to be an unconcerned shrug. "Everyone else was already upset, and I didn't want to add my loss to the mix."

"Was it valuable?"

"It had, ah, a value."

"Sentimental or monetary?"

Alan turned pink. "Both," he mumbled.

"What kind of chain?" Virgil queried. "Can you describe it?"

"It's a chain! Let's concentrate on the bigger picture, okay? Find everyone else's stuff and you'll most likely find it."

Scott got out his tablet PC and started typing – the spreadsheet replicated up in Thunderbird Five and on his wall where everyone else could see it. "We'll make a list. Column A... The... victims..."

"You make it sound like we've been mugged," Virgil told him.

Scott, midway through his list of familiar names, looked up at him. "Doesn't it feel like you've been violated?"

"I guess so."

"Column B... What... was... stolen... ... Father..."

"The gold pen he was given by the World President after he'd helped Bangladesh get back on its feet after the flooding," Gordon reminded him.

"Grandma..."

"Measuring spoons."

"Very special measuring spoons," Tin-Tin corrected. "Made by England's top craftspeople."

"Right... Kyrano... Crystal out of the garden."

"That was a gift from me," Tin-Tin admitted. "I made it out of chromanomium."

"Tin-Tin... Necklace..."

"Special necklace from a special person."

"Special… necklace…" Scott made his note. "Penny... Compact..." He looked up at John. "I'm glad you didn't find any evidence of an invasion. I'd be seriously worried if that got into the wrong hands."

"Me too."

"Parker... Nothing... Me... My wings... John... Unknown... Virgil..."

"Why didn't you do this before?" Alan complained. "The rest of us have things to do."

"Tuning fork..." Scott quoted, ignoring his youngest brother.

"Ma's tuning fork," Virgil corrected.

"Ma's tuning fork..."

Finally, column B was filled.

"Right." Scott looked up at the assembled, but bored, gathering. "What do we put in column C?

"Where the items were allegedly taken from."

"Allegedly?" Gordon gave John a sharp look.

"Some of them may have been taken from where they were supposed to be by their owner, prior to their disappearance."

"My medal never leaves my room."

"I wasn't thinking about your medal."

"My tuning fork never leaves the lounge."

"My necklace has always hung on my mirror. I only wear it when I'm going out somewhere special. I haven't been anywhere special in months."

"Same with my, er, chain."

"All right, all right." John held up his hand to stop the complaints. "Scratch allegedly."

Scott typed in all the locations, noting that the programme's autofill option frequently duplicated bedroom, copied lounge once, and didn't have to do its job with kitchen or garden. "Whoever did this had the cheek, or guts, to raid our private living quarters."

John stared at his copy of the list. "It's the start of a pattern. Do we know what order the disappearances happened?"

"I know that my tuning fork disappeared while I was at Scott's meeting," Virgil told him. "I was only gone for ten minutes at the most."

John stared at him. "That's brazen. Or opportune."

"And Gordon was behind me, so that cuts the available time down till after he'd sloshed through the lounge."

"Unless Gordon took it," Alan joked, and received a less than impressed look from his brother.

"He didn't," Virgil stated.

"Okay..." Remembering the time that he'd decreed that the meeting was to start, Scott wrote that down next to Virgil's name with the approximate finishing time in the column following. "Do you know when Father lost his pen?"

"He started looking for it after the tuning fork disappeared. Whether it had gone before then, I don't know."

Scott duplicated the times with the addendum: (possibly). "Anyone else able to give an approximate time of disappearance?"

"I was giving the polish on my medal a chance to dry," Gordon recollected. "I went for a swim while I was doing that, and then got called into your meeting, before I helped Virgil hunt for the tuning fork... And then I went and played a joke on somebody..."

Tin-Tin's lips thinned. "I remember."

"And got a bawling out for doing it. It was only after that that I remembered my medal wasn't in its display case."

"How long was your swim?"

Gordon pursed his lips and thought. "Ten minutes?"

"And the joke?"

"Ten minutes to set up. Ten minutes to execute."

"And the bawling out?"

"Five... And then I had to clean up. That took about five minutes too."

Scott looked at Tin-Tin, who nodded her agreement at the joker's assessment. "So... Your swim, plus the meeting, plus the time we spent looking for Virgil's medal, plus whatever you did to Tin-Tin and the consequences... Say a window of sixty minutes?"

"That'll do."

"Any ideas when your chain could have gone missing, Alan?"

"I left my room before we decided to watch that stupid movie and I didn't go back until we were all checking to see if anything was missing. So, it was vacant about six hours."

"And I was about the same," Scott made another note. "Give or take ten to fifteen minutes." He looked up. "Tin-Tin?"

"I, erm, returned to my room throughout the day," she admitted, with a slight flush to her cheeks. "But I didn't look at my mirror and see that my necklace had gone until just before dinner."

"It was too hot to be in the kitchen all day, so Grandma was only in there to make dinner," Virgil recollected, "and Kyrano made lunch, so he was in the kitchen then."

"Which means that he wasn't in the garden at lunchtime," Scott noted.

"He was working in the vegetable garden for most of the day," Tin-Tin informed him. "The crystal was in the flower greenhouse."

Dropping his tablet onto his lap, Scott sat back. "So, whoever took everything, with the exception of Virgil's tuning fork, had ample time to execute their plan."

"But why take what they took?" John asked. "As we said before, most of it has a higher sentimental value than monetary one."

Scott sighed. "Okay... Column F... M Monetary or S sentimental value..."

-F-A-B-

Parker had done a similar series of lists, coming to the same conclusion as the group in Scott's room. They had no idea who, what, when, or why had "dunnit".

Short of ideas he decided to take a walk, or "case the joint" as he might have said in another life.

Not wanting to be near the Tracys' accommodation block until he had absolutely no choice, he went into the kitchen.

"Hello, Parker."

"Oh!" He'd wanted to do his examination alone, not with an audience. "'Ello, Mrs Tracy."

"Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

Parker wasn't hungry, but it was an excuse to explain why he was there. "Yes, please, Mrs Tracy."

"What would you like? Cake? A sandwich? Ice cream?"

Theorising that it would at least keep him cool while he tracked through the complex, and that he could observe the kitchen whilst he ate, Parker chose: "H-Ice cream. H-If h-it won't put you h-out, ma'am?"

"It won't put me out at all. Just a minute and I'll get you some." Grandma bustled about, before presenting him with a bowl filled with three scoops of homemade ice cream; creamy white, with swirls of green, and chunky lumps of brown.

"Ta, H-I mean, thank you, Mrs Tracy."

She chuckled.

Parker's first mouthful almost made him forget his quest. "This h-is smashing, Mrs T!"

"Thank you." She dimpled at the compliment. "It's vanilla and mint with chocolate chips. Although I think there's more vanilla than mint in it, and it's not as good as it would have been if I had my good measuring spoons..." Suddenly aware of what she'd said and who to, Grandma blushed. "Of course, I know full well that you didn't take them, Parker."

"H-I know you know. Be good h-if we could find h-out oo did h-it."

"It would be. It's horrible being suspicious of everyone while knowing that no one here would do such a thing. I almost wish that John had found an intruder on the island."

"H-I know what you mean." The room was hot, and Parker resisted the temptation to place the chilled bowl against his forehead. "Don't you 'ave h-air conditioning h-in 'ere?"

"I do, but I prefer fresh air." Grandma indicated the open window. "Kyrano's garden's just out there and it smells heavenly at this time of the year. In fact, at about this time of day, the sunlight would hit his crystal and I used to get a rainbow of colours in here. It was so pretty."

"Bet h-it was." Kyrano finished up the last of his ice cream and carried the bowl over to the sink.

"Just leave it there," Grandma told him. "I'll put it in to wash with the rest of the dishes."

"Thanks, Mrs T. H-I'll get h-out from h-under your feet."

"You're not under my feet, Parker. It's a pleasure to talk to you."

Feeling buoyed by her parting words, Parker left the kitchen and headed for the lounge, glad to see that this time he was alone. What remained of the piano tuning tools had been carefully packed away and Jeff's desk was neat and tidy with no stray paperwork to conceal anything.

He stepped up onto the polished surface of the platform that was the piano's stage and felt his sandal slide out from underneath him. Grabbing the piano, he managed to stop himself from landing flat on his back.

Using the musical instrument to keep his balance, he checked his sandal's sole, seeing a smear of white, green and brown there. "Musta got some h-of me h-ice cream h-on me shoe. 'Ope H-I didn't track h-it through the 'ouse."

But looking back, Parker could see no trace of the creamy dessert.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a packet of alcohol-infused wipes; a hangover from this days on the other side of the law. Then, he'd use them to wipe down any potential fingerprints left at the scene of the crime. Nowadays, he kept them close to remove any scuff marks that threatened to spoil her Ladyship's pristine bags.

He wiped the mess off his shoe and was about to consign it to the nearest rubbish bin when something made him stop.

It didn't look like ice cream.

A cautious sniff confirmed that it wasn't.

"H-I wonder..."

Using another wipe, he removed the smudge from the floor, before using a third to get rid of his own smudges from the piano's gleaming white paint.

With the inkling of an idea forming, he descended the outdoor steps, deposited his three wipes into a bin, and then walked away from the villa; stopping when he had a good view of the windows and balconies of the accommodation block. As he'd expected, all but one, Scott's, had a window or door open. "So that's 'ow you got h-in."

Time to lay a trap to catch the culprit, but what could he use as bait?

He made a decision.

Taking the outside path that skirted the villa, Parker approached the gardens that supplied much of the family's food. "Mister Kyrano..."

Kyrano straightened from where he was hidden behind one plant as he tended to another. "Mister Parker?"

Parker saw some netting of the type that was draped over plants to stop birds from feasting on ripe, juicy fruits. "H-I couldn't scrounge some h-of that, could H-I? H-I'll try not to use too much."

Kyrano, with a confused bow, handed the roll over. "If you have a use for it, you are welcome to use it."

"Thanks. Erm... You wouldn't h-also 'appen to 'ave a wicker basket h-or some such H-I could borrow, would ya?"

A small frown creased Kyrano's forehead. "A wicker basket? I do, and you may."

Parker grinned as he was handed the small bag with its flip-up lid. "Ta, mate... H-I mean, thank you, Mister Kyrano. H-I shall return h-it h-as soon h-as H-I can."

"There is no rush. I have no need for it at present."

After another thank you, Parker entered the house, retreating to the cool of his room. The blast of the air conditioner, so refreshing after the heat of the sun outside, made him reconsider his plan. Then he emptied his pack onto the bed, replacing its contents with a box of tissues from his bedside table, a tablet PC, and a roll of duct tape; and returned to the tropical sun.

He made his way down to the courtyard that surrounded the pool.

After dragging one of the tables out from under a shady umbrella, he then shifted one of the more comfortable seats until it was partially hidden by the shade of a palm tree. Tucking Kyrano's basket, the net, and his pack out of the way, he removed his watch from his arm, set the GPS so it was sending a signal to the tablet, placed the timepiece face up on the exposed table, and then retreated to the chair.

And then he sat down to wait.

-F-A-B-

Alan scowled at the chart on the wall. "We're getting nowhere!"

"We are getting somewhere," John insisted. "We've just got to look for commonalities."

"Commonalities? Like what? Like the fact that every theft was made from our home?"

"Face it, John," Virgil added. "There are only eleven suspects. As much as none of us like the thought of it, it has to be one of us that's doing it."

Scott nodded his agreement. "Virg is right. Maybe the question shouldn't be who, but why? What reason would any of us have to steal from the others? If we can answer that, we might be able to work out who that person is... And get them some help."

Gordon stared at him. "Help?"

"Stealing from anyone, especially from the extended family, is not something we'd expect any of us to do. If one of us is doing it, then they're doing against their will."

"What? You mean someone's doing something like sleep walking? Sleep stealing?"

"All the thefts happened during the day when no one was asleep, so no, I don't think that's the answer."

Alan had his face creased up in thought. "Maybe whoever it is, is under the influence of some external power?"

John frowned. "Blackmail?"

"Oh, yeah..." Alan looked like he hadn't considered that. "I was thinking along the lines of someone else remotely controlling them and what they're doing."

"Remotely? That sounds a little too farfetched, Alan."

"And," Tin-Tin added, "if that is the case, why is whoever is the pawn in this..."

"Science fiction," Gordon interrupted.

"...scheme, or blackmail, being told to only take one thing? And for that thing to be something that doesn't have much value except to its owner?"

"To spread discontent and distrust amongst us?"

"Well..." Virgil glanced at Gordon and received a knowing wink in reply. "If that's their plan, it only had limited success."

"I wasn't suggesting some long-range, science fiction, hocus pocus," Scott told everyone. "Although I'll admit that blackmail's an option. I was thinking more along the lines of kleptomania. The compulsion to steal."

"Which could mean that out of everyone, including you guys, I'm the only one who's not a suspect." John sounded almost too delighted at the thought.

"Here's a leftfield idea," Virgil offered. "What if the perpetrator isn't human?" He saw the frowns surrounding him. "What if someone's hacked into Braman and is controlling him remotely?"

Everyone looked at one another. The idea that a robot, even Brains' robot, could be the perpetrator, and not someone close to them, was a lifeline to be clung to. The sense of relief, even though there was no proof of Virgil's theory, was palpable.

Tin-Tin sighed. "Brains will be devastated if this is the case."

Scott nodded "We won't suggest it to him until we have proof. Can you hack into Braman's software, John?"

"Give me a moment. I'm just checking to see if Brains is working with him at present... No, we're clear. I'm going in..."

They waited, unwilling to say or do anything until he'd finished his task.

"No viruses... No Trojan horses... No unexplained code... And... he's been turned off for the past week. Sorry, fellas, it's not Braman."

"What other projects has Brains been working on?" Gordon asked. "Any chance there's another robot? One that's gone a little haywire?"

Tin-Tin shook her head. "I am not aware that he is working on any robotic project."

Frustrated, they all sat back.

Gordon threw his hands up in frustration. "Instead of sitting here, doing nothing, we should be doing something!"

Swivelling in his seat, Alan turned to look at him. "Like what?"

"Like setting a trap."

"All right." Scott leant closer to his prankster brother. "What do you have in mind?" He watched as a sly grin crossed Gordon's face.

"There's one person who hasn't been stolen from yet."

"Uh, uh." John saw five pairs of eyes looking at him. "I'm locking my rooms so that no one can get in. Especially you guys!" He entered a code into Thunderbird Five's computer. "Done. It's locked down tighter than the Bank of England after Light-Fingered Fred was captured the second time."

"Come on, John," Gordon cajoled. "Think of it as an experiment."

"One without clear guidelines, poor control, and shoddy methodology."

"Your stuff won't be in any danger. We'll be watching it like a hawk."

"How?"

"Remote cameras. Motion sensor beams. CCTV. You'll even be able to keep an eye on everything yourself from Thunderbird Five."

"No."

"Please, John," Scott pleaded. "Just for one day. You don't know what it's like to be living here wondering who's going to be hit next..."

"Well, it's not going to be me."

"...and who's responsible."

John hesitated. Scott was right. He didn't know what that was like. Heaving a deep sigh, he gave a reluctant nod and reversed the code. "Just remember that there are at least three flaws in your plan, Gordon."

"What are they?"

"One: If the kleptomaniac, or whatever, is one of you guys, you'll either know to steer clear of my room; or remember where the cameras and everything else are so you can avoid them. Two: If it's not one of you guys, the culprit could see you at work in a suite you should be nowhere near and know something's up. Either that or you'll all get the blame."

Gordon had to admit that they were flaws. But it didn't mean that he was willing to give up on his plan just yet. "And the third thing?"

"We don't know if I've had anything stolen, yet. My rooms could have been cleared out."

Scott stood. "Well, we're about to find that out. Thanks for the go ahead, John. We'll let you know how it pans out."

"Oh, no you don't. I'm coming with you. Wear a camera so I can see what you're seeing..."

What the Tracy boys and Tin-Tin saw, when they accessed John's scrupulously tidy suite, was a scene of complete harmony and order.

"Well, John?" Virgil, a video camera clipped to his shoulder, did a slow pan around the first of three rooms. "Anything look out of place?"

"No. It looks fine... Geez, you're short. I feel like I'm wandering around my room on my knees."

"Hey!" Virgil put his hand to the camera's off/on switch. "I can shut this down, you know."

"Oh, no you don't. I want to see everyth… Alan! Get out of my drawers!"

Alan slammed the drawer home. "I was just checking to see if anything was missing."

"Everything that was lost was in plain sight," Scott reminded him. "Waiting for a quick snatch and run."

"It was?" Standing in the middle of John's room, Alan thought. "Oh, yeah. So, it was. That's another commonality. Why didn't you put that on your spreadsheet?"

Scott preferred mulling over other questions to answering Alan's. "The thing is... what would our miscreant want to take of yours, John?"

"Nothing."

"There must be something that you have a sentimental attachment to."

"Nope. I'm an unsentimental guy."

Alan snickered. "This from the man who cried when Bambi's mother died."

"I hadn't seen the movie before, and I only saw it then because Tin-Tin wanted to see it and you were both too young to go without an adult. I didn't know the deer was going to be left an orphan."

Tin-Tin giggled. "I think you were more upset about that scene than I was, John."

Gordon pounced on something. "How about this?"

"Gordon..." There was a definite growl in John's recitation of the name. "Put my star globe down."

Gordon turned the tennis ball-sized spherical representation of the heavens in his hands, examining it. "Didn't that famous astronomer present it to you when you were a kid."

"Yes, he did. Now put it down."

"Because you won a quiz or something?"

"Because they thought my explanation of ... Gordon! Put! That! Down!"

Grinning at his brothers and Tin-Tin, Gordon placed the globe that he'd been lightly tossing from hand to hand back on its pedestal. "I think we've found what we want."

Agreeing, the rest of the group hustled about, placing "tripwire" lasers and cameras about the room so that the star globe was well and truly in the spotlight.

And then, making sure that no one saw their clandestine activity, they left the room, promising a nervous John that they'd keep an eye on it 24/7.

-F-A-B-

It was later in the day and Parker had nearly dozed off when he became aware of some activity to his right. Keeping rock still, so he wouldn't be seen in the shadows, he watched to see what was about to happen. He not only wanted to catch the culprit in the act; he wanted to find where the loot was stashed.

He watched as a shifty looking individual cased the joint to see if they were being observed, scuttled closer to the table on two silent feet, examined his watch, picked it up as if they were about make off with their bounty, and then dropped it back down.

Parker almost groaned when his suspect, clearly concerned that they'd been seen and were about to be caught, fled for the trees. He now knew who the guilty party was. How was he going to bring the miscreant to justice, without the evidence required to support his accusation?

He was almost ready to give up his sleuthing for the day – or at least until the cooler hours of the early evening – when he was shocked to see the culprit swoop in, scoop up his watch, and hightail it out of there.

Parker was on his feet just as fast and, pack on his back, tablet, basket, and net in his hands, running after the thief.

-F-A-B-

"Still there," John gleefully told his fellow sleuths.

His father looked up from his desk in the lounge. "What's still there?"

Scott glared at his younger brother. "John was concerned that some of his things might go missing, so we set up a camera in his rooms so he could keep an eye on them." Whilst not strictly correct, he told himself that he wasn't lying to his father.

Jeff approved of the supposed precautions. "I hate to say it, but the way things are at the moment, that's not a silly idea."

Gordon had delved into International Rescue's stockpile of miscellaneous equipment and found an acoustic generator. Standing patiently at the piano's side, adjusting the generator's frequency until it matched each note, he'd assisted Virgil as the instrument was tuned until it sang as sweetly as the day Virgil first saw it in the shop. Then, at his brother's suggestion, he'd got his guitar and the pair were now enjoying a quiet jam session together.

Alan and Tin-Tin were participating in a game of tag chess against Brains, hoping that with their combined intelligence, they might at least manage to win one game over him. That, despite several errors on his part, they still weren't managing to overcome him, spoke volumes of the stresses they were all under.

Grandma was sitting in one of the easy chairs, her uneasiness revealed by the way that she was chatting to Kyrano as quickly as her knitting needles flashed and her latest project was revealed. He, instead of politely listening and replying when necessary, appeared to be in a world of his own.

That was until Lady Penelope entered the room. "Has anyone seen Parker? I cannot find my cerise blouse in any of my cases."

"Parker?" As one, the room stilled, while each individual tried to remember the last time they'd seen the missing man.

"He had an ice cream this morning," Grandma recollected. She checked her watch. "I hope it hasn't spoilt his lunch."

"He came to see me in the garden some time ago," Kyrano added. "He wished to borrow several items off me. He did not tell me for what purpose."

Hearing some sounds from outside, including what sounded like a mild curse, Gordon went to the patio door and looked down. "We may be about to find out."

When Parker finally staggered into the lounge, it was with the biggest grin they'd seen in days. He was dirty, his Hawaiian shirt was torn, his big toe had pierced his right sock, he appeared to be wrapped up in netting, and there were scratches on his cheek and down his nose. But he still greeted everyone with a big "'Ello, h-all."

"Parker!" Lady Penelope exclaimed. "Where have you been and what have you been doing?"

Putting the wicker basket on the floor with a squeak, he attempted to swing his pack off his back, and succeeded in getting caught up in the netting. "Could you 'elp me, Mister Gordon?"

"Of course." Gordon assisted the older man with the untangling of the twisted material.

"Ta." Parker laid his pack with care on the floor. "H-I've been busy."

"It looks it," Virgil told him.

Crouching down, Parker delved into his pack, pulling out the depleted box of tissues. Then he withdrew a small parcel wrapped in some of the squares of flimsy paper. "This h-is yours, Mister Brains. H-I don't think h-it's damaged."

The wicker basket let out a squawk.

"Quiet down there," Parker directed. "H-I found the best way to serve me time was to keep me 'ead down h-and me nose clean, h-and H-I'd advise you to do the same... Sorry, Mister Brains." He handed over the parcel.

As mystified as most of the people in the room, Brains accepted the tissues with a "th-thank you," and a nervous glance at the gyrating basket. Torn between that phenomenon and the tissue-wrapping, everyone watched as he unveiled the contents of the parcel.

The final tissue fell free and he let out a gasp. "My magnifying glass!" He examined it quickly, relieved to see that it was scratch and chip free. "Where did you find it?"

"Laid a trap," Parker said smugly. "Once H-I realised that you h-all 'ad windas h-and doors h-open to the h-outside, I could h-imagine a tea leaf like old Corvie here..."

"Corvie?"

"H-I think 'e's some kind h-of corvidae; a magpie, h-or rook, h-or some such thing. He was tryin' to attract the ladies, with the prettiest trinkets he could find h-in what H-I think they call a bower. H-It must be breedin' season." Reaching into his bag, Parker withdrew another tissue-wrapped parcel. "That h-one feels like yours, Mister Virgil."

"My tuning fork?" Virgil hurried forward. His fingers fumbled the wrapping as he tried to wrench the tissue free. "It is!" He tapped the tool on his hand and fork emitted the 440 Hz pure sound of "concert A".

Corvie squawked in a discordant duet.

Next Parker pulled out a smaller, single tissue, parcel. Unwrapping it, he walked across the room. "Going by the h-initials, H-I think this could be your necklace, Miss Tin-Tin."

"It is?" Delighted, Tin-Tin held up her treasure. "Thank you, Parker…"

Surprised by the way her voice had suddenly gone flat, Kyrano, on her right, took a step towards her. "Is something wrong, my Daughter?"

"It is not mine." Tin-Tin held the necklace out to the man on her left.

Blushing scarlet, Alan grabbed the silver half-valentine, and shoved it into his pocket. "Thanks, Parker," he mumbled.

"Then this h-one," taking an equally small parcel out of his pocket, and with a small bow, Parker gave it to Tin-Tin, "must be yours."

Tin-Tin's face brightened again as she accepted the charm, the mirror image of Alan's except for its "AT" decoration. Beaming, she hung it around her neck.

Parker returned to his bag. "Ol' Corvie musta wanted to get some wings to prove 'e was h-allowed to fly," he explained to Scott as he held out the next parcel.

"Cheek!" Scott told the wicker basket as a beak tried to push its way out from under the duct-taped lid. "You've already got yours. I had to earn mine." Grinning, he added: "Thanks, Parker."

"M'Lady." Striding across the floor, Parker presented her with a circular package.

"Well done, Parker," Lady Penelope congratulated him. "Now to confirm that, ah, 'Corvie' hasn't caused any irreparable damage." She flicked the compact open. "Lady Penelope calling Thunderbird Five."

A beeping sound was heard from the first picture frame. "This is Thunderbird Five," John announced. "Receiving you, strength five, Penny."

Hearing his voice through her speakers, Lady Penelope snapped the compact shut. "Thank you, Parker."

"H'It was my pleasure, m'Lady." Diving back into his pack like a roguish Santa Claus, Parker held out a six-tissue, duct taped, parcel. "Bet these could cook h-up some real good h-ice cream."

"And the first batch will be all yours," Grandma dimpled at him. "Just tell me what flavour you'd like."

Encouraged by everyone's good humour, Parker winked at Jeff as he handed over the long, cylindrical, parcel. "H-And you can use this h-one to cook the books."

Jeff laughed as he accepted his pen. "Thanks, Parker."

"Mister G..." Parker saw Gordon make a move. "...G-Kyrano. Corvie musta been really h-impressed with your crystal. 'E'd hung h-it h-on a branch h-as beacon to the passin' ladies.

Accepting the tissue-wrapped item, Kyrano bowed low. "I think you, Mister Parker."

Knowing that a certain prankish Tracy was jigging in impatience off to one side, waiting to be reunited with his missing treasure, Parker stuck his nose back into his bag. "H-I think that's h-it."

"What about my medal?" Gordon squeaked.

Parker became grave. "H-I'm sorry, Mister Gordon, but that was h-all that was h-in the bower."

"All?"

"Yep. You can check my bag h-if you like."

Trying not to snatch the pack from the older man's fingers, Gordon practically disappeared inside as he felt about in his attempts to find the gilded award and its multi-coloured ribbon.

A multi-coloured ribbon that, with a conspiring wink, Parker pulled out of his pocket so that the rest of the group could see, before shoving it back in.

Happy to see his prankster brother sweat, and determined to make the retribution last as long as possible, Virgil thought of a question. "Why do you think Corvie stole from everyone but you, Parker?"

"'Cos H-I didn't 'ave me winda h-open. There's too many bugs h-in this place, h-and H-I don't like them h-all buzzin' h-about me room. Can't see the point when you've got h-air conditioning."

"If it's breeding season…" Scott checked that the clasp holding his wings to his shirt held fast. "…there must be other 'Corvies' out there who will be just as keen to find things to decorate their nest. What can we do to stop it from happening it again? I don't know about the rest of you, but I prefer fresh air to air conditioning."

"You could h-always put some shiny h-and bright coloured h-objects h-outside, h-away from the villa," Parker suggested. "So they don't 'ave to fly h-as far h-as the 'ouse for their treasure."

"That's a good idea." Jeff tested his Parker pen, pleased to see that it had survived a flight and a night in the open. "And to make sure Corvie's not tempted to raid our home again, we'll have to install insect screens. They're ugly, and they stop the indoor/outdoor flow, but I assume it'll only be for a few weeks of the year."

Brains' brow creased in thought. "I wonder if I can come up with a sonic or photoelectric deterrent, to stop the, er, Corvidae from coming inside."

Kyrano inclined his head in approval. "I shall have to display my crystal indoors during this time."

"And I'll just make sure I'm on duty on Thunderbird Five," John offered.

Concerned that Gordon might be about to take a pocket knife to his pack, Parker turned back to where his bag had almost been turned inside out. "Did you find h-anything?"

"No." Deflated, Gordon failed to realise that the wattage of his extended family's smiles had gone up a notch. "Guess Corvie must have dropped it somewhere on his way to the bower."

"You can get a replacement made, can't you?" his father asked, only just managing to keep a straight face.

"Yeah." Gordon shoved his hands into his pockets. "But it's not the same."

Scott put a comforting arm about his younger brother's shoulders. "Until that arrives, you can help me polish my wings.

"And my star globe," John's voice came from the back of the room. "It's got your fingerprints all over it."

"I'd better cancel that order for the electronic tuner," Virgil added. "Although I suppose it would save time to have a gismo that tells me which of the notes are sharp or flat. It's not as satisfying as listening to this though." He tapped the fork and Concert A was heard again.

"What you should do, Gordon," Tin-Tin told him, "is get Parker to show you where the bower was. Then you can follow the line from there to your room and see if you can find where Corvie has dropped it."

"That's not a silly idea," Gordon admitted.

"Assuming that Corvie travelled between the two, as the crow flies as it were," Alan added. "And didn't take a detour… Over the ocean."

Gordon sagged.

"I-If it would be of any a-assistance, y-ou are w-welcome to use my magnifying glass if you wish."

"Thanks for the offer, Brains, but I don't think a magnifying glass of that size will be much help. I'll probably need a telescope to look up into the trees and Thunderbird Four to look in the bay." Gordon started walking towards the patio doors. "If you can point me in the right direction, Parker, I'll make a start now."

"You'll have your lunch first, young man," his Grandma told him. "I've got some cooking to do."

He didn't look back. "I'll grab something later, Grandma."

There was a discreet cough. "Ah. Mister Gordon."

Gordon turned back. There, hanging from Parker's outstretched finger was a multi-coloured ribbon. Attached to the multi-coloured ribbon was a sparkling gold disc. "My medal!"

Parker found himself the unexpected recipient of a bear hug and an even more unexpected kiss on the cheek. "H-I didn't lie," he told the younger man. "H-I h-exaggerated the truth." He grinned at Alan.

Gordon, who'd been staring at his medal as if he couldn't believe that it was once again in his possession, looked up. "You did?"

"Yeah. Corvie's decoratin' skills musta paid h-off. 'E's found 'imself h-a Mrs Corvie h-and she's laid h-an h-egg. They'd used your medal to decorate their nest. Musta wanted to h-inspire the next generation to be the best h-in the world."

Gordon laughed.

"Come and sit down, Parker," Jeff invited, "and tell us how you found Corvie."

"Before H-I do, Mr Tracy, H-I'd like to release 'im. H-It ain't 'is fault that 'e's h-attracted to pretty things. 'E's just doin' what nature makes 'im do."

"Fair enough." Retracting his desk, Jeff stood. "But before you do release him, I'd like to have a proper look at the prisoner."

"Get a photo," John joked. "Tracy Island's most wanted."

Picking up the basket, which jumped about on his arm as Corvie attempted to fight his way out, Parker led the way to the patio.

"Everyone here?" Jeff did a head count. "We're ready, Parker."

Balancing the basket on the balcony railing, Parker pulled back the duct tape and lifted the lid. A jet-black head poked out and fixed the family with a beady eye, before hopping to the basket's rim and pecking at a shiny fastening on the railing. Then, with a caw of defiance, "Corvie" took to the skies. After doing a loop of the courtyard to orientate himself, he made a beeline for the bush; leaving only his calling card, which landed with a splat in the swimming pool.

"Hey!" Gordon called after him. "I don't do that in your nest! Don't you do it in mine!"

"Get changed, Parker, and I'll get lunch ready," Grandma suggested. "Then you can tell us how you discovered that Corvie was the thief while we're eating."

He grinned at her. "Oki doke, Mrs T."

Fully cleaned up and relaxed by the time he sat down for his midday meal, Parker wasted no time in explaining about the events that led up to the realisation that the culprit might have been of the avian variety, including the discovery of a dropping in the lounge. "H-All H-I 'ad to do was lay a trap h-and wait, h-and then follow 'im usin' me watch's GPS."

Tin-Tin beamed at him over her lunch. "How did you know the best way to catch him without hurting him?"

"When H-I was a nipper, H-I would 'oliday h-at h-an h-uncle's." Parker smiled at the memories. "He was h-a ranger h-at a reserve h-and 'e taught me 'ow to trap birds for banding. H-I'd catch them for 'im h-and 'e'd put the h-identifying plastic h-and metal bands h-on their legs." He rubbed at the scratch that ran down his nose. "Course, H-I was a lot younger h-in them days, h-and climbin' was much h-easier. H-And the h-only bird that H-I know that put h-up more h-of a fight than Corvie, was a robin redbreast. They're vicious little blighters."

"Well, we'd all like to thank you for your tenacity, Parker," Jeff toasted his colleague, as the rest followed suit. "If it wasn't for you we'd still be wondering where everything was and, probably, why more was disappearing."

Parker gave a bashful smile. "H-It were nothin', Mr Tracy. H-I got more talents than safe crackin' h-and butling."

"And we're glad you do." Wiping his hands on his serviette, Alan grinned. "See, Fellas, it was like I told you. When it came to finding out whodunnit..." He put a companionable arm about Parker's shoulders. "The butler did it."

The end.