Sherlock Sam and the Stolen Script in Balestier Read online

“It did,” Uncle Boon Chong mournfully said. “Er, my pocket has a hole. I only realised it just now when I put my hand in to look for the key you guys had found.”

  “And James deliberately planted it where you would find it, Sam,” Dad concluded. “Because he thought that falsely accusing Boon would get you into more trouble with me.”

  I nodded. I remembered how James had given precise instructions to Moran before he hid. It must have involved the key as well. I was so glad that I could tell Dad everything now.

  “Are we…I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are we sure James didn’t steal it himself?” Dad asked. “Eliza said he could have set this in motion as well.”

  “She also said he used other people and never got directly involved,” I said. “Even if he is behind this somehow, he didn’t do the actual stealing. Somebody else did.”

  “So…I’m not guilty, right?” Uncle Boon Chong said. “Just so we’re clear.”

  “Yes, Uncle Boon,” I said. “Your secret exercising also explains why you keep sticking koyok on yourself. You might also want to air the room out a bit. It smells very sweaty.”

  “Can I just add that Pilates is extremely tough?” Dad said. “I went with Kat once and I couldn’t walk properly for days after. I support you 100 per cent, Boon!”

  Uncle Boon Chong blushed a furious red. “I’m going to wash up a bit. You guys, er… solve the case, okay?” And then he dashed off.

  Nazhar scratched his head. “Maybe we should go through our suspects again, Sherlock?”

  I nodded.

  “Let-us-begin-with-the-man-of-a-million-hats,” Watson said.

  “I think it’s safe to rule him out as a suspect,” I said.

  “He was acting weirdly when he was going to the bakery, but that was just because he didn’t want anybody to know he likes eating kaya toast,” Nazhar said.

  “And-Uncle-Boon-Chong-said-he-was-a-terrible-actor,” Watson said.

  “Yep, I think he did write the script, and it did get stolen,” Dad said.

  “Okay, what about the other suspects Boon Chong mentioned?” Mom asked.

  “Uncle Shukri, the star of the show,” Wendy said in between sneezes. “Uncle Boon Chong told us he wasn’t happy with how P. Ramlee was written in the last episode.”

  “Did you learn anything while feeding him rice dumplings, Auntie Kim Lian?” I asked.

  “When I asked him about leaving the show, he said that his contract was for another two years, so if he tried to stall by not working next season, the producers could actually sue him! So lucky for me he’ll be on the show for a while! Lucky for all his fans,” Auntie Kim Lian said. “Plus, he was on the entertainment news saying he wanted to be on the show for as long as possible. Remember, Officer Siva also said he was on the news a lot.”

  “He could have taken it to force QT to write something different,” Nazhar said.

  “I asked him about his character,” Mom said, “and he said that while he wasn’t happy about the direction, he is already working with QT towards a compromise for next season.”

  “My Shukri would never steal a script,” Auntie Kim Lian said firmly. “He’s much too respectful.”

  “Mama’s right!” Jimmy said. “Uncle Shukri is a very respectable young man!” Auntie Kim Lian ruffled Jimmy’s hair.

  “Even if he found a way to break his contract, he wouldn’t have publicly admitted that he wanted to stay if he was really going to leave,” I said. “It would damage his reputation and he would lose many of his fans.”

  “So I guess he’s not our thief,” Nazhar concluded.

  “What about Lee Swee?” Mom asked. “If Shukri cannot film the last episode, he’ll get a much bigger role, and the show may have to focus on his character in the next season.”

  “That sounds like a very good…oh, what do you call it, sayang?” Auntie Kim Lian asked.

  “A motive, Mama!” Jimmy replied.

  “Thank you, sayang. Yes, it’s a very good motive for wanting to delay production.”

  “I-agree,” Watson said, “but-we-are-forget-ting-something-very-important. He-was-not-on-set-when-the-script-was-stolen.”

  “You’re right,” Wendy said, sniffling. “He said he was at the doctor’s.” Her eyes were getting very watery.

  “And Uncle Boon Chong confirmed he wasn’t at the studio,” I said.

  “Then the last suspect is Koey,” Dad said. “I really don’t want it to be him, but…”

  “We met him a few times when were in university with Boon Chong,” Mom said. “He seemed like a very nice boy.”

  “But we did overhear him try to steal Uncle Lee Swee from the show,” Nazhar said. “He said that there was still a place for Uncle Lee Swee on his series.”

  “But-he-changed-his-mind-about-it-just-as-fast,” Watson said.

  “That could just mean that he felt guilty about it or that he was worried that Uncle Lee Swee would tell on him,” I replied. “Given all the evidence in front of us, Uncle Koey seems to have had the opportunity and the strongest motive to steal the script.”

  I recalled that James had told me earlier about sibling rivalry. Was that really a clue? I didn’t quite believe it. But all the evidence seemed to point to Uncle Koey.

  Wendy sneezed again, just as Uncle Boon Chong arrived. “So, have you figured it out?” he asked. “Today’s a bust, but if we can start filming tomorrow, we can still finish before Shukri has to leave.”

  He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I mean, if he isn’t the thief. Obviously, if he stole it, I’ll have to fire him immediately.”

  Auntie Kim Lian gasped.

  I sighed. “Uncle, I’m not sure how to tell you this.” I got up and started pacing and looking through the costumes.

  “Please keep in mind that we don’t have any real evidence, that this is all circumstantial, but…” I didn’t know how to tell him that his own brother may have sabotaged his show.

  “What? What is it?” Uncle Boon Chong asked. “Is it the Dark Side?”

  Dad got up and put his hand on my shoulder as I rifled through more costumes. “I know it’s hard, son, but you should tell him.”

  My eye caught a very familiar costume. I tried to place it when Wendy sneezed again.

  “Wait! I know who did it!” I shouted. “Assemble your suspects, Uncle Boon Chong. We’re getting your script back today!”

  Uncle Boon Chong called our four suspects immediately. Uncle Koey had been driving home, but everyone else was still on set. QT had been furiously trying to recreate his script and Uncles Lee Swee and Shukri were in their respective rooms.

  When Uncle Koey came back, everybody gathered on the studio grounds to listen to me. Wendy had somehow gotten her sneezing under control.

  “Hey, it’s you kids again,” Uncle Koey said. “Wow, you guys must be super fans! Wait, are you the acrobatic boy from the street?” He pointed at Jimmy, who grinned and waved.

  “After talking to Uncle Boon Chong this morning, the four of you were our main suspects,” I said.

  “Me?!” QT said. “But it was my script that got stolen!”

  “Yes, but Uncle Boon Chong was worried that you were faking it to cover the fact that you were late again.”

  Uncle Koey laughed. “QT can’t fake anything,” he said. “Wait, I’m a suspect?” He turned to glare at his brother who gave a sheepish shrug.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” QT asked.

  “Look, QT, you’re a great writer, but you’re a terrible actor,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “All of Singapore has just seen your terribleness in the episode that just aired.”

  Uncle Shukri began laughing as well. “That two-minute scene took us three days to film!”

  “Yah,” Uncle Boon Chong said, “I’m never letting you in front of the camera again.”

  QT pouted.

  “This is the conclusion we came to as well,” I said. “Even though he’d been acting weird this morning, it was for a completely unrelated reason. So, it’s
not QT. Also, we just saw that episode and I actually thought you were acting suspiciously on purpose!”

  “Was it me then?” Uncle Shukri asked, looking amused.

  “You were apparently unhappy with how your character was being portrayed,” Nazhar said.

  “It’s true I wasn’t happy with how QT and Boon Chong had been writing P. Ramlee these last few episodes,” he said, “but I didn’t steal the script.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I said. “You still wanted to be on the show, in spite of your disagreement with Uncle Boon Chong and QT, and you’re in a contract you can’t afford to break.”

  “And you told Mom you were working with QT on a compromise on how P. Ramlee would be written in the second season,” Wendy said, sniffling.

  “Wait a minute, you nice ladies were questioning me?” Shukri said, pointing at Mom and Auntie Kim Lian. “So sneaky!”

  Auntie Kim Lian giggled. “I knew it wasn’t you,” she said.

  “Which brings us to you,” I said, pointing at Uncle Koey. “We overheard you talking to Uncle Lee Swee by the water tanks.”

  “What exactly did you hear?”

  “That you respect your brother a great deal,” I said. “You couldn’t bring yourself to steal his star actor away.”

  Uncle Koey looked at Uncle Boon Chong. “I tried to…”

  “But you stopped yourself,” I said. “I admit you were our strongest suspect, but that was only because I didn’t have any real evidence. Also, I think Uncle Boon Chong has something he needs your help with.”

  Uncle Boon Chong grinned sheepishly at his brother who looked a little confused.

  I walked in front of Uncle Lee Swee. “And then I found it.”

  “What? I didn’t take anything,” Uncle Lee Swee said. “I wasn’t even here when the script got stolen.”

  “That’s true, Sherlock,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “He had a family emergency.”

  “But he told Uncle Koey that he had a doctor’s appointment?” I asked. “Which was it, family emergency or doctor’s appointment?”

  “It was both,” Uncle Lee Swee said. “The family emergency was at the same hospital I had my doctor’s appointment.”

  “How convenient,” I said.

  “Sam!” Mom said. “That’s not nice to say.”

  “He wanted everyone to think he wasn’t here, but you actually were, right?” I said.

  “Kid, I just said I wasn’t here,” Uncle Lee Swee replied. He was starting to sweat.

  “Wendy, can you come over here?” I asked. “Stand in front of him.”

  Wendy did so, and immediately sneezed so hard she almost toppled over.

  “That’s strong cologne you wear, Uncle,” I said.

  “Is that what’s been causing my allergic reaction?” Wendy asked, blowing her nose. “Wait, I started sneezing this morning, before you arrived.”

  “Lots of people wear cologne,” Uncle Lee Swee said. “And even if her allergy is to a specific fragrance mix, those mixes are used in a variety of products, from soaps to shampoos to cleaning products. And we use a lot of all of those here.”

  “Nazhar, can you get that cleaning uniform costume hanging there?” I asked. Uncle Lee Swee looked suprised.

  Nazhar brought out the Qīng Qīng Cleaning Services costume I had seen earlier. “Is this the costume QT wore in the most recent episode?” I asked.

  “Yeah, actually,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “I had completely forgotten what it looked like, QT’s acting was so bad.”

  “I’m standing right here,” QT said petulantly.

  “But didn’t I see it this morning?” Uncle Koey asked.

  “You did,” I said. “Uncle Lee Swee was wearing it as a disguise.”

  “Oh, snap,” QT said, rubbing his hands together. “This is brilliant. I need to work this into the script somehow.”

  Uncle Lee Swee was sweating now. “That is ridicu—”

  “Take the costume to Wendy, Nazhar,” I said, interrupting Uncle Lee Swee. I wasn’t in the mood for any more denial.

  Nazhar took the costume over to Wendy and she sneezed violently, three times in a row.

  Uncle Lee Swee paled visibly.

  “Why would you do this?” Uncle Boon Chong asked. “You put the whole show in jeopardy.”

  “Because this was supposed to be my show!” Uncle Lee Swee shouted. “I was supposed to be the star! And then Shukri comes along and wows everybody and then other directors are trying to steal him! He’s getting Hollywood calls! He’s getting all the fans! And me, I get nothing! I thought if I could somehow get more screen time on this show, I could prove I was the better actor! I’d get more focus, and then I’d be the famous one!”

  All the adults were taken aback, especially Uncle Shukri.

  “I initially took the script just to see how many more lines QT had given Shukri!” Uncle Lee Swee shouted. “It’s been growing exponentially every episode!”

  “I highly doubt that,” I said. “Even if he’d started with only one more line than you in the first episode, and it only doubled after each episode, after ten episodes he’d have 512 more lines than you. I think you meant it grew arithmetically.”

  “Really, Sam? Now?” Wendy said, rolling her eyes.

  “I think I could use you on my show too,” Uncle Koey said thoughtfully. “And the grumpy robot.”

  Uncle Lee Swee deflated just as suddenly as he had exploded. “I only wanted a chance to shine again, without Shukri in the way,” he said. “Even my friends’ son knew I was very good when I went to their house for dinner last night, and that I was simply being eclipsed by Shukri.”

  “Who was this boy?” I asked; my Spidey sense was tingling.

  “I don’t remember his name,” Uncle Lee Swee said. “But when he asked me how tight Shukri’s schedule was since he had to leave for Hollywood, I realised that if production was delayed for just a few days, Shukri wouldn’t have enough time to film the final episode before he left. That’s when I started thinking about how to actually do it, and I remembered what happened the last time QT turned his script in late. So I stole it and destroyed it.”

  “What are your friends’ names?” I asked.

  “Who cares?” he replied.

  “Answer him, Lee Swee,” Uncle Boon Chong said.

  He sighed deeply. “Henry and Jane Mok, but they had nothing to do with this. It was my idea.”

  Dad and Mom looked at each other.

  I remembered what Eliza had said earlier. “He just let human nature run its course,” I whispered.

  “And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for these kaypoh kids,” Uncle Lee Swee said. He sighed again. “I guess I’m fired now.”

  “You betcha, but not before you finish this last episode,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “Or I will sue you for breach of contract until you’ve got nothing left. Koey, could you—”

  “No worries, Boon,” Uncle Koey replied, “I got it.”

  Uncle Koey led Uncle Lee Swee away, yelling at him the whole time.

  “Kid, I’m gonna turn you into the greatest TV show I’ve ever written,” QT said to me.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “You need to rewrite this episode first. I’m pretty sure we’re gonna have to somehow write Run Run Shaw out and focus exclusively on P. Ramlee, if that’s okay with you, Shukri.”

  “Yah, I’m just…I don’t know what to say to that, to all this,” Uncle Shukri said.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Uncle Boon Chong said. “That guy will never work as an actor again. And thank you, Sherlock. That was truly amazing!”

  “Yay!” Jimmy shouted. “This means Sherlock is Singapore’s Greatest Kid Detective again!”

  I looked at Watson expectantly.

  He shrugged. “I-have-nothing.”

  Jimmy laughed. “Even Watson agrees this time!”

  Dad and Mum both gave me a big hug. Wendy and Nazhar were beaming.

  It felt really good to get back i
n the saddle.

  * * *

  After we went home that night, Uncle Boon Chong called to tell Mom that QT had very quickly come up with a script that would write Run Run Shaw out of the show. They were going to focus on P. Ramlee, and move the show to Kuala Lumpur, where P. Ramlee went after he left Shaw Studios. The show would still be shot in Singapore, but the producers were willing to pay for a few trips north for research and scouting purposes.

  We also had a big family talk. Mom and Dad now believed me about James faking his disappearance at MacRitchie, and that he was likely responsible for the theft of Auntie Vivian’s robot and the script, but we all agreed that we couldn’t tell his parents about this. We had no real proof, after all.

  The following day at school, I told Jimmy and Nazhar that Wendy, Watson and I were still grounded. Mom and Dad were sorry that they didn’t believe me about James Mok, but the fact remained that we had insisted on sneaking out without permission. They reminded me how dangerous that had been and even though Wendy’s ankle had mostly healed, it could have been much worse, for all of us. We were definitely still in trouble, but with one important difference: we were allowed to investigate again! As long as we never did it without their knowledge and permission, of course.

  We had gladly agreed to that stipulation. Plus, now I understood why Dad was so disappointed in me before—he didn’t just want me to be a great detective, he wanted me to be the best person I could be.

  I didn’t see Eliza the whole day, not that I wanted to. Wendy was insistent that James had somehow coerced Eliza to work for him. And anyway, my sister said Eliza didn’t technically betray us, as she was never officially a member of the Supper Club. I wasn’t in the mood for technicalities.

  After school, I was surprised to see that my dad had come to pick us up.

  “Why are you here, Dad?” Wendy asked. “I thought you would be working late again.”

  “I would have, but my notebook with all the notes that I’ve been scribbling down seems to have gone missing,” he said. “I think it happened yesterday during all the excitement at the studio.”

  Something scratched at the back of my brain, but before I could explore that thought, Dad asked, “Where’s Watson?”

  I whirled around. Where was Watson? The last time I saw him he was informing me how many calories there are in a cream roll from Chin Mee Chin.