Alexia's Bike Read online

  *

  Later that day, as the sun was at its highest peak and the air warmer, Walter met Hassan on the parking lot, in front of the building where Alexa leaved. He immediately stated his apprehension:

  “Hassan, do you think Alexia had an accident? Her bike isn’t there anymore and with all those cars…”

  The child was fidgeting, apparently uncomfortable. He didn’t want anything bad happening to his friend, his best friend even! When Hassan shook his head as a sign of negation, he felt a little more relaxed.

  “No, if she had an accident, you would have seen it while walking to school, the little detective explained. You would have taken the same route. We would have heard an ambulance, and your teacher would have known.”

  “You must be right, Walter confirmed as he thought all of this was plausible. But then, what should we do now?”

  “Now, we observe the scene of the disappearance! Show me your usual path.”

  Walter obeyed, leading the older boy from the entrance of the building to the dirty sidewalks of the block. Hassan’s eyes ceaselessly jump from a place to another: sometimes the ground, at times the walls, at one point the streetlights, afterwards the cars. He was really noticing everything, and, soon, he stopped. “Here, look!” he exclaimed.

  Small but visible, three red stains were on the ground, close to a small path that lead to the “old shack”.

  It was a small house lost in the middle of the buildings of the city, a place where no one lived and that everyone called the “old shack”. Even the teacher when she was not in the classroom, she who talked always so properly, used that expression to describe the place. The paint on the walls was falling apart, the plants in the garden were dead and the windows had been broken by the countless stones launched by the children of the neighbourhood.

  No one lived there; everybody knew that, even if there were rumours of trash cans being tipped, scratching noises and such. Of course, some people were saying that the house was haunted, but everybody knew that ghosts did not leave their house, and especially not in plain daylight! No, there was definitely no one in this house that could have caused trouble for Alexia.

  Walter observed Hassan crouching next to the stains and, quite expertly, follow the drops from the biggest to the smallest. “In this direction,” the older boy said. He moved towards the house, his head still close to the ground. Then, suddenly, he grabbed something. It was a tiny transparent stick from which sprouted white soft filaments.

  “A feather?” Walter asked as he struggled to find the meaning of such a discovery.

  “Yes, indeed,” Hassan confirmed.

  “But… What is that doing here?”

  “I don’t know. It may belong to someone.”

  “Who wears feathers? Do you think a Native American kidnapped Alexia?”

  “In France? No! No… But there are earrings with feathers on them and…”

  “Necklaces!” Walter exclaimed in a hurry. “Melissa wears a necklace with a feather!”

  Melissa was a girl from his class. She and Alexia were in good terms before, but they had not talked for a few days. Could she have been the cause of Alexia’s disappearance? Possibly. Without putting any more thought into it, Walter started running towards the school. Melissa ate at the school canteen, and at this hour the children that did were in the courtyard. Walter and Hassan did not have the right to come in; the portal wouldn’t open as a precaution against adults coming in. However, they knew that behind the main building was a gate where they could talk with those that were inside.

  Hassan tried to ask Walter to wait, or even to slow down, but he was forced to follow since the younger boy wouldn’t comply. The two of them asked a pupil to go and find Melissa. She arrived a few moments later, apparently very curious to know what they wanted with her. She obviously had no idea what was going on.

  “Hello guys,” she said with the cutest smile.

  “Hello, Melissa,” Hassan gently replied.

  “Where is she?” Walter asked abruptly.

  “Where is who?” Melissa interrogated.

  “Where is Alexia?”

  “What are you talking about, Walter?” The suspect inquired. She seemed quite surprised.

  “Alexia is absent today,” Hassan explained, “and we found a feather near her home. Walter remembered that you have one on your necklace.”

  Melissa nodded. “Yes, yes! Look!” She pulled up the little string and a pendent appeared from behind her T-shirt. The feather was a bit tousled, but she was there.

  “She must have changed it!” Walter intervened.

  “What? Of course not,” Melissa defended herself, “I’ve always had it.”

  “She is right, Walter, look at the knot! It’s too complicated for a CE2 pupil.” That was a third grader, in France.

  Indeed, the knot that tied the feather to the necklace was quite complex. Walter lowered his head. Mom had always told him that he shouldn’t judge people too quickly.

  “Sorry,” he timidly apologised.

  “It’s OK,” Melissa reassured him. “It’s easy to turn against others when you are afraid for someone you really care about.”

  Hassan rapidly thanked Melissa and told Walter that they should go back to the abandoned house in order to pursue their investigation while they still had time. They ran again and soon arrived where they found the blood stains and the feather.

  Walter felt the heaviness of anxiety deep inside his belly as time passed. He feared they wouldn’t find anything and that he would go back to school empty handed. At the thought that was slowly poisoning his mind, he suddenly stopped. He just noticed a small movement on the gravel that lead to the old shack. It was a small tuft of red hair. He showed it to Hassan, who grabbed it and analysed it closely.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Walter asked.

  “It looks like hair.”

  Walter crossed his arms and frowned. There was only one boy in their school that had short red hair: a CE1 pupil, a second grader. He didn’t know him very well, but he knew his name: Arthur. Why would he do anything to Alexia? Walter had no idea, but he knew the culprit now! He clenched his fists. He was very angry against that boy, even though he had never talked to him before.

  Suddenly, Walter’s watch rang. They had to go back to school as fast as possible if they didn’t want to be scolded.

  He was about to start running, but Hassan stopped him and made him promise that he would tell no one what they had found. When Walter asked him why, Hassan only replied that he would find out later.

  This time, Walter didn’t do much during class. His mind was wandering. He couldn’t focus. The idea that someone that he didn’t even know could do something to Alexia, who didn’t hurt anyone ever, revolted him. He never felt that angry. Usually, when he got worked up, it passed. It was often what Mom told him with her “adult tone” when he was mad at her: “You’ll get over it.” One could not stay angry for too long, he knew that, it was exhausting. He trembled, all his muscles contracted, breathed heavily, it was an uncomfortable condition. After a while, he was just too tired to stay mad. But that time it was different, it didn’t pass, it was too serious, too important… That’s why he probably should have told the teacher and reported Arthur’s behaviour. He knew it, but Hassan had told him to stay quiet, so he did.

  However, when recess came, he felt the need to bring the boys from his class together in the courtyard, by small groups, so that the adults wouldn’t notice. He told them that if Alexia wasn’t there, it was because Arthur had hurt her.

  The boys told him that Arthur stayed after school to study, and that they would make him confess when he would come out. Walter, even though he had never been violent, was so angry that he accepted.

  He didn’t stay after school, and neither did Hassan, so when the class ended, they found each other.

  The little detective immediately asked his cadet: “Did you tell to anyone?”

  “No,” Walter replied automatically, but
he couldn’t look Hassan in the eye.

  “Very well! We need to go back to the abandoned house.”

  “Oh, really? Why?”

  “My dear Walter,” Hassan replied, “I prefer to wait for us to be there to tell you.”

  The two accomplices came back to the old shack. This time, however, they didn’t stop in front of it: Hassan walked up to the door and knocked three times. At first, everything was silent. Then, small rushed steps were suddenly heard inside. Walter frowned. Who could be in this house? The culprit, without a doubt! He mindlessly entered and Hassan joined without protest.

  The sounds came from above, so the two children ran upstairs. When they reached the second floor, however, the need to run escaped them. There was a narrow corridor and a door left ajar… Walter felt his courage disappear, but the will to see Alexia was stronger than any fear, so he advanced, slowly. Very slowly. He didn’t want to be spotted. Who knew what was behind that door?

  He put his tiny hand on the door and softly pushed it, when suddenly…

  “What?” Walter exclaimed.

  An old fox was squat in a corner, a pigeon trapped between his fangs, his eyes defying the intruders that were trespassing on his territory.

  “I knew that those hairs couldn’t be human,” Hassan commented. “They were too rigid and smelled too much.”

  “I never ever saw a real fox before,” Walter said. “He is so cute!” He approached the animal and extended his hand as though he was about to pet a dog, but the fox dodged and fled to another corner as fast as a red lightning bolt.

  Hassan intervened: “It’s no use, Walter. As Antoine de Saint-Exupéry tells us in The Little Prince, the fox is a wild animal that cannot be tamed.”

  Walter nodded as he understood that he couldn’t pet a wild animal, when suddenly he remembered his previous concerns: “What about Alexia? Where is she?”

  “She isn’t here. She never was,” Hassan explained. “We have investigated a different crime. The feather we found must belong to that bird, and the hair is that of the fox.”

  “What about Arthur?”

  “What do you mean?” A perplexed Hassan asked.

  Walter didn’t answer. He just started running.

  The sound of his steps bounced back against the walls of the empty house. His feet frantically beat on the creaking wood. He was holding the banister with the tip of his fingers, ready to stabilize himself if he was to trip because of the speed. He had to be quick, very quick… Everyone had to know!

  He rushed onto the streets and came back to school where, happily enough, the teacher stood, talking to a parent.

  “Teacher! Teacher!” He yelled as loudly as possible.

  “Walter, can’t you see I’m talking to someone?” She complained.

  “But, Madam, the guys are going to hurt Arthur!”

  “Arthur? Why would they do that?”

  “I was wrong… I thought he hurt Alexia…”

  The woman that was talking with his teacher suddenly turned towards Walter. “Alexia?” she asked.

  Walter’s eyes widened as he recognised Alexia’s mom!

  “Walter… Alexia was with me and her grandmother, this week-end, to enjoy the weather. We even took her bicycle with us. The poor child was stung by a bee and she is sadly allergic. Don’t worry, we went to see a doctor and she is alright, but she has been resting today. She’ll be back tomorrow. Your comrade didn’t do anything to her.”

  Alexia was alright… Walter couldn’t believe it, it was such a relief! If Alexia was OK, then everything was.

  Everything? No! He had to stop the other before they hurt Arthur. Walter accompanied the teacher and Alexia’s mother to the study room, where they told everyone what had really happened to the young girl.

  Walter was severely scolded for his misbehaviour and before he went back home, Hassan told him:

  “Walter, a good investigator never give in to fear and anger, he must stay calm at all times. One should never confuse the innocent and the guilty, otherwise you become the bad guy. Never forget that.”

  The next day, Walter and Alexia went to school together, Hassan came back to observing children play marbles, and Alexia’s bike reappeared the next weekend, as pink as ever.

  Thank you for reading books on Archive.BookFrom.Net
Share this book with friends