Sherlock Sam and the Stolen Script in Balestier Read online

  “Kids,” Dad said, “this is our old university friend, Boon Chong. Back then, he directed plays that your mom and I starred in.”

  “I still can’t believe you never told us before that you were actors,” I said. What other secrets of my parents’ past didn’t I know?

  Uncle Boon Chong laughed. “Kathryn starred in my plays,” he said. “You played a lot of bit parts, Michael.”

  “That’s true,” Dad said. “I couldn’t remember any of the lines or where I was supposed to stand. But your mom…” He got this wistful look in his eyes before turning back to us. “She was amazing, guys.”

  “I wasn’t that great,” Mom said, blushing.

  “Don’t listen to her, kids,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “Your mom played all the leading roles: Juliet, Ophelia, Nora, Salome, Lady Macbeth. She is an amazing talent.”

  “Whereas I was lucky to play Soldier Number Three or some other tiny part,” Dad said.

  “You did get to play the Apothecary that one time,” Mom said. “You had four lines.”

  “Which I never remembered,” Dad said.

  “Did you meet any famous TV stars?” Auntie Kim Lian asked. “A lot of them started out in plays in university too.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dad said.

  “If you were so terrible at acting, why did you keep trying?” Wendy asked.

  “Number one, you shouldn’t give up doing something simply because you start out being terrible,” Dad said, grinning. “The only way you’ll get better is with more practice.”

  “I don’t think all the practice in the world would have made you a better actor,” Uncle Boon Chong added with a laugh.

  “This-may-be-true-for-Wendy’s-Chinese-as-well,” Watson said.

  “Shush, both of you,” Dad said before continuing, “And number two, I kept doing it because that’s where I met the most beautiful woman in the world and I wanted to stay as close to her as possible.”

  “Awww,” Mom said.

  “Her name was Natasha, Natasha Wong,” Dad said, grinning again.

  Mom immediately pinched his arm and twisted as hard as she could. “Ow! Ow! I’m kidding! Ow! It was you! Ow!”

  Mom let go, but eyed Dad suspiciously.

  “It’s where we met, kids,” Dad said, rubbing his arm. “I kept trying to act because I wanted to be close to your mom, and I was afraid she would forget about me if I left.”

  “That’s about as much mushy stuff as I can take,” Uncle Boon Chong said, rolling his eyes as Mom kissed Dad on the forehead. Rubbing his arm, Dad complained about the pain and Mom pinched him again.

  Uncle Boon Chong then turned to the rest of our classmates and said, “Now, how would you kids like to meet some of the cast and crew?” Everybody cheered.

  As Mr. Lim tried to get the students into some kind of order, I motioned to the Supper Club to gather around. “Look at James over there, pretending like nothing happened,” I said.

  “He’s a big fat liar,” Jimmy said, turning to look daggers at James.

  “As-opposed-to-Sherlock-who’s-just—”

  “That’s too mean, Watson,” Nazhar interrupted him. Watson’s eye beamed.

  “Even now we still don’t know why he pretended to go missing,” Nazhar continued.

  “Maybe he didn’t,” Eliza said. “We don’t actually know he was faking his disappearance. And even if he was, why does it matter? It’s over.”

  “What? Watson and I saw his secret campground,” I said.

  “None of the rest of us did,” Eliza said. “And why didn’t Watson record it?”

  “But James confessed!” Jimmy said. “I was there!”

  Eliza shrugged. “Maybe he just said that because you were already accusing him.”

  “Why are you saying these things?” Wendy asked. “Why would Sherlock and Watson lie about what they saw?”

  Eliza shrugged again and started to fiddle with one of her neat braids.

  “It-matters-because-he-kept-a-lot-of-people-very-busy-for-an-unknown-reason,” Watson said. “What-was-that-reason? And-was-he-trying-to-keep-anyone-in-particular-busy?”

  I stared at Watson. I am clearly an excellent influence on my robot, as that was a brilliant deduction.

  Mr Lim seemed to have gotten everyone under control finally, and Uncle Boon Chong started to speak. “Okay, let’s start with—”

  “BC!” somebody shouted. It was a short guy who came running out of the three-storey building. He was wearing a white T-shirt with a green scarf around his neck, skinny jeans with the cuffs rolled up, glasses with no lenses and eight watches (four on each arm).

  “My script!” he shouted again. “My script is missing! It’s gone!”

  “Slow down, Qiang Tian,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “What’s wrong?”

  “My name is QT!” he shouted. “And my script’s been stolen!”

  “Did he just call himself ‘cutie’?” Eliza whispered to Wendy as the rest of us stared at the strange-looking man.

  “Don’t you have a million copies of your script?” Eliza asked.

  “What?” the odd man said, squinting at her through his lens-less glasses. “Who are all these children? What’s going on?”

  “This is the show’s lead writer, Qiang Tian,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “Just give us a few minutes.” He took the man aside and they started talking in hushed tones. The man who seemed to call himself “cutie” kept throwing his arms in the air, clutching his head and pulling at his scarf. At one point he almost strangled himself with the scarf because he was pulling so hard.

  I started to get excited about the possibility of investigating a case until I caught Dad’s eyes. That’s when I remembered that I was still not allowed to be a detective—and my excitement deflated in a whoosh.

  “Of course I finished it this time!” the almost hysterical man suddenly shouted.

  “Fine, fine. Calm down before you strangle yourself with your scarf again,” Uncle Boon Chong said in a soothing tone, though I thought I saw a vein in the middle of his forehead throb quite fiercely.

  The man, however, kept shouting. “Of all the things to be accused of! I was very proud of this script, you know!” Then he finally stalked back into the building.

  Uncle Boon Chong took a deep breath and walked back to us. “Sorry about that everyone. Erm, if you could just hold on for a bit. Mike, Kat, can I talk to you guys?”

  Mom and Dad walked away with Uncle Boon Chong while Mr Lim tried to calm all the startled students down. Auntie Kim Lian tried to help him while seemingly looking for something else.

  “What do you think they’re talking about?” Jimmy asked, looking at us.

  “I don’t know,” Nazhar said. “But if this script really got stolen, then maybe we have to cancel the excursion?” He looked disappointed.

  “What a delightful mystery.”

  We spun around and saw James Mok standing there with his robot Moran. His other butler, the human, did not seem to be present. I wondered if I could somehow give Watson the ability to track people…if Dad ever gave me permission to work on Watson again, that is.

  “It should prove relatively simple for the great Sherlock Sam to solve.” He smirked. “Oh, but I forgot, you are not allowed to investigate any more, are you? That’s just too bad.”

  “You stole it, didn’t you?” Jimmy said, pointing at James.

  “Of course not. Why would I need a ridiculous television script?” he said. “But I certainly know who took it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Eliza said. “That weird man is just being dramatic. Even if one printout of a script went missing, it would still be saved on his computer.”

  “Oh, how little you know about anything,” James said, smirking again.

  A flash of anger crossed Eliza’s face, but it went away just as quickly as it had appeared.

  “If you know who did it, then go tell Uncle Boon Chong,” Wendy said.

  “Ah-ah, that would be telling, and I never tell.” James tapped
Moran on the head and a tray of cucumber-and-watercress sandwiches slid out of Moran’s chest, along with a pot of tea. I could smell the scent of fresh butter from the sandwiches.

  “Would Sir be needing some milk and sugar?” Moran asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Very good, Sir.” Moran’s left hand retracted into his arm before coming back out with a tiny pitcher of milk. He did the same thing with his right hand and brought out a pretty bowl of sugar cubes that had both white and brown sugar. Incredible! “It’s so hard to get proper tea in this place,” James said. “In London, I could get proper tea from any establishment.”

  “You just haven’t had good teh-C-siu-dai,” Nazhar replied.

  “How…?” I started to ask, staring in wonder at the robot serving food to my arch-nemesis. I then turned to look at my robot, who was definitely not serving food. I was lucky if Watson let me have a packet of sugar!

  “I guess I just build better robots,” James said.

  “You-whine-about-moving-away-from-London-better-too,” Watson said.

  “Harumph. I do not understand why you allow your robot servant to be so rude,” James said to me.

  “I-was-built-with-free-will,” Watson said. “That-makes-Sherlock-the-greatest-robot-builder-in-the-world.”

  James turned up his nose as if he’d smelled something really rotten, and immediately walked away. Moran pulled everything back into himself and followed behind.

  “Was-that-too-mean?” Watson asked Nazhar.

  “Nope, that was perfect,” Nazhar replied.

  “We should tell Uncle Boon Chong that James knows who stole the script!” Jimmy said.

  “Argh!” I said.

  “What’s wrong, Sam?” Wendy asked.

  “We can’t tell Uncle Boon Chong, and James knows it.”

  “Why not?” Eliza asked, crossing her arms.

  “Because they’ll think I’m just trying to get him into trouble again, like after MacRitchie,” I said. “Mom and Dad already think I have it in for James.”

  “Urgh, you’re right,” Nazhar said, sighing deeply.

  “Argh!” I said again. “And we can’t even investigate because Dad made us disband the Supper Club!”

  At that moment, Uncle Boon Chong walked back to where we were.

  “Where are Dad and Mom, Uncle?” Wendy asked.

  “Erm…I seemed to have caused a bit of a problem…” Uncle Boon Chong replied, wringing his hands. “I think they’re discussing something. They should be out soon. Maybe.” He tried to smile at us but I could see the concern in his eyes.

  Just then, Mom and Dad emerged. Dad was frowning slightly and Mom looked worried. Auntie Kim Lian cheerily waved at Mom, who then walked over, presumably to explain the situation to her. Dad stood silently by himself. He looked like he was trying to make a difficult decision as he had his serious face on. He caught me looking at him and after a moment, beckoned me over.

  “Dad?” I said as I stood in front of him. He crouched down to look me in the eye.

  “Mom thinks that we should let you and your friends investigate,” Dad said. He continued to look at me closely. “She thinks that you’ve been very well-behaved since the incident. Plus, Uncle Boon Chong really needs your help.”

  I gulped, then held my breath. I was ready to be told that I couldn’t.

  “But I’m not sure that it would be a good idea,” Dad continued. “So I wanted to ask you what you think.”

  “Ask me?” I said, my mouth literally hanging open. “Why would you ask me?”

  “Because you’re the one who will be responsible for your own behaviour and actions, Sam,” Dad said. “Mom and I can disallow you from doing many things, but ultimately, as you grow older, you’ll have to make your own decisions. So I’m asking you. Do you think Mom and I can trust you to be responsible and careful this time?”

  I wanted to say yes immediately, but I stopped myself. Being responsible meant that I had to make sure that all my friends and family were kept safe and that I would not be harming anyone, intentionally or otherwise. I looked directly in my dad’s eyes, took a deep breath and nodded firmly. “You can trust me, Dad. I will be responsible. I’ll prove it to you.”

  “Okay. I’ll be watching closely how you handle this case, Sam,” Dad replied. “And let me be clear: this doesn’t mean that you can restart the whole detective thing yet. This is a one-time deal.”

  I nodded. I knew I was being given a second chance and I fully intended to show Dad that I could be the person he was trying to teach me to become.

  Dad looked at me a moment longer before nodding and standing up. Mom was hovering nearby, next to Wendy and Watson. Her worried expression quickly changed when Dad looked at her and nodded again. She exhaled deeply and smiled. With his hand on my shoulder, Dad and I then walked over to where everyone was waiting for us expectantly, especially Uncle Boon Chong.

  “Okay, Boon Chong has asked for your help in finding this stolen script,” Dad said. “Apparently, he’s heard about all the mysteries you guys have helped solve, and even though I’ve explained how you’re all in trouble for sneaking out, he really needs your help. Sam and I have discussed it and we’ve decided that he, Wendy and Watson will be allowed to investigate. Under supervision, of course.”

  “That’s great!” Jimmy said. “We’ll solve this mystery in no time!”

  “Not so fast, Jimmy,” Mom said. “We can only give permission to our kids.”

  Watson straightened a little when he heard that. If he had a mouth (I mean a physical mouth; he obviously has a metaphorical mouth), he would have smiled. He seemed to gleam brighter.

  “The rest of you have to get permission from your parents,” Mom finished.

  Jimmy immediately turned to Auntie Kim Lian. “Please!” he said. “I’ll wash all of my sisters’ dishes for a week!”

  Auntie Kim Lian laughed. “I want to punish you, sayang, not bury you under a mountain of dirty dishes. You can help, and I’ll figure out some other task for you to perform. Maybe peeling hard-boiled eggs. No one likes to peel hard-boiled eyes for my mee siam.”

  Jimmy looked horrified. His eyes were as large as the eggs he was going to have to peel, but he quickly nodded in agreement. I liked eggs. I would volunteer to help Jimmy peel the eggs, especially since I knew I would likely get a plate of mee siam. Maybe with two eggs even.

  “I was never really in trouble,” Eliza said. “But you can call my parents to make sure.” She handed her phone to Mom, who looked at Eliza sadly. Mom walked slightly away as she made the call.

  “That just leaves you, Nazhar,” Dad said.

  “Uh…I think I might not be able to help,” he said. “My dad was very angry when I sneaked out. He almost didn’t let me come on this excursion.”

  “But I need you, Nazhar,” I said. “Who’s going to give me all that important historical information?”

  “Do you want me to call him?” Uncle Boon Chong asked. “I really need all of you to help.”

  “You can try, Uncle, but I don’t think it’s going to change his mind.”

  Dad pulled out his phone and called Nazhar’s dad. He and Uncle Boon Chong walked away.

  Mom came back over. “Your dad’s assistant picked up the call. She says you can help, Eliza.”

  “Told you.” Eliza took her phone back. “Oh, and thank you for calling, Auntie.”

  Uncle Boon Chong came back with Dad and told Nazhar, “Your dad says it’s okay to help out as long as Mike and Kat watch you.”

  “Why can’t your weird writer just print out more copies?” Eliza asked. “Why is this one version so important?”

  “Because it’s the only one that exists,” Uncle Boon Chong explained. “Qiang Tian is…an odd writer. He refuses to write on a computer.”

  “Like Yvonne Zhang!” Jimmy shouted. “Does he write everything out by hand too?”

  “Why-are-so-many-people-afraid-of-technology?” Watson asked. “It-is-not-like-we-are-going-to-take-over-
the-world-any-time-soon. Humans-have-at-least-another-hundred-years-before-that-happens.”

  We all stared at Watson. “That-was-a-joke,” he said.

  Uncle Boon Chong laughed nervously. “I don’t think he’s afraid of technology. He has a smartphone and tablet and everything. He just prefers to type out his scripts on this old typewriter he has. It’s not even an actual antique. It’s some replica he found at a shop that sells fake vintage things.”

  “Ohh. I get it. So he doesn’t write everything by hand?” Wendy asked.

  “No, no,” Uncle Boon Chong said, “if he did, nobody would ever be able to read anything. He types out his scripts and then we scan them into a computer and print out copies for everybody.”

  “So he had just finished this script?” Nazhar asked, glad that he was allowed to help.

  “That’s what he says, yes, and it was stolen when he went to the bathroom,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “The timing is really bad for the show because my star actor, Shukri, is leaving for the US to film a movie there and if we delay the production too long, we’ll have to come up with an entirely new idea for the final episode. On top of that, we’ll have to delay the screening of the episode on TV, which may lose us a lot of viewers.”

  “Then it’s a supremely terrible idea to allow your writer not to write on a computer and keep backup copies,” Eliza said.

  “What do you mean, ‘that’s what he says’?” I asked, ignoring Eliza.

  Uncle Boon Chong sighed. “I’ll explain later. I think you ought to take a look at the crime scene first.”

  He was right. We needed to get to the crime scene before it was contaminated!

  “I’ll stay outside and help Mr Lim look after the children,” Auntie Kim Lian said as some film crew members walked past carrying a large mountain prop. “And maybe also look for that dreamy Shukri,” she added with a cheeky grin.

  When we got to the writer’s office, it was a total mess. There were papers everywhere, chairs on their sides, and a hat rack on the floor, though all the hats seemed to be piled nicely next to an antique typewriter on a desk.