The Case of the Disappearing Corpse by June Whyte

Friday. But at last the final siren sounded and the prison doors clanged open.
    Leaving me to carry out my new plan….
    Every Monday night Tayla and I took turns sleeping over. This week it was my turn to stay at Tayla’s house. Hurrying home from school I printed out my story so far and stuffed it in my back-pack. Then I threw in pyjamas, notebook, Tim Tams, a packet of Good-Dog for Leroy, who always went visiting with me…and…the key to Patsy Turner’s empty house.
    Yep, you’ve guessed it!
    We’d tell Tayla’s mum she had her weeks mixed up. Whenever she has a new boyfriend she’s always so dreamy we can play tricks on her. She’d met up with this guy called Stevie only a couple of days before so she didn’t even query us.
    At first Tayla was horrified. “No way!” she said when I told her my plan.
    “Come on, Tayla,” I urged. “We can hunt for clues.”
    She shook her head.
    “Think of it as a sleep-over without annoying adults. We can watch TV until midnight if we feel like it.”
    “Sleep-over? Hey, I wouldn’t sleep in that house for a million, squillion dollars. Have you forgotten Krystal’s warning?”
    “Krystal is a police officer—it’s her duty to scare people.”
    Tayla’s blonde curls shook vigorously from side to side for at least another twenty seconds—until I promised her a large block of her favorite chocolate, two cans of Coke, a packet of cheese and onion chips and to do her math homework for one whole week.
    What we Private Eyes have to endure…
    Bargaining over, Tayla and Leroy followed me up to Patsy’s front door and stood nervously waiting for me to turn the key.
    Squeeeeeek!
    Tayla, her face the color of chewing gum, scuttled backwards off the front steps and stared at the door.
    “Hinge needs oiling,” I explained as I fumbled around inside for the light switch.
    Tayla looked ready to bolt. She gazed around the house as though expecting the murderer to jump out from behind a cupboard, blood still running down his arm from the knife he’d stuck into Frank Skinner’s back.
    “Hey, this is going to be fun,” I said, trying for a cheerful voice.
    I was definitely not spending a night alone in this house so had to get Tayla’s mind off scary things. “Let’s raid the fridge and have a picnic.”
    I tossed my backpack on the table and opened the freezer door. It was packed high with frozen fish fingers and hamburgers. I seem to remember burnt chops, lumpy potatoes and bullet peas when Patsy had been my babysitter. Looked like instead of improving her cooking she’d reverted to eating frozen pre-cooked food.
    While Tayla found a frying pan and Leroy claimed the softest cushion from the sofa for his before-dinner snooze, I went hunting for clues. There had to be a reason for Frank to be sneaking around Patsy’s house.
    Determined to uncover a clue, I poked my nose in the toilet cistern. I went down on my hands and knees and rummaged under Patsy’s bed. I unplugged the television and used a torch to check out the plug-holes.
    Nothing.
    I searched through Patsy’s coat pockets. I even rifled through her extensive library of romance books, in case someone had slipped evidence between the pages.
    Still nothing.
    It wasn’t until I began my search in the laundry that I hit the jackpot.
    As I threw Patsy’s dirty clothes in the washing-machine, I noticed a pair of bright red tracksuit pants crumpled up on the bottom of the bowl and thought; maybe they were the pants she’d been wearing at her Laughing Class. Maybe this was my big break. Maybe Frank had slipped something into Patsy’s pocket because the FBI was hot on his trail.
    Or maybe I was just plain crazy…
    Expecting to find nothing but dirty tissues or a peppermint lifesaver covered in fluff I slid two fingers gingerly into the pants pocket. Bingo. My fingers hit something small, round and hard. A sort of cartridge thing. Inside was what looked like the tiniest film-spool I’d ever seen. Smaller than my