The Case of the Exploding Loo Read Online Free

I need to figure out what that van is doing parked outside our house. What is it with all these turquoise vehicles? This one is similar to the Kazinsky Electronics van that was
parked on the opposite side of the road a week ago, but with a rounder bonnet and without the big KE logo on the side.
    More worryingly, it’s being loaded with boxes through our open front door.
    “Mum?” Holly sprints the last few metres. “Mum? Are you okay?”
    A quick glance through the out-of-date Christmas lights in the bay window reassures me Mum is still slumped on the sofa, oblivious to van and driver. I’m more concerned about what’s
in the boxes.
    A man in a shiny suit blocks the doorway, showing too many teeth. “Good afternoon, young ladies. I represent your father’s life insurance company.” Insurance Man wipes a hand
on his shiny suit and holds it out towards us. “We’re here for ‘Removal and Disposal’. It’s a standard part of the policy.”
    Holly ignores the hand. “Why don’t we know anything about this?”
    “Because you’re just girls.” Insurance Man reveals yet more teeth as he continues to thrust his hand at us. “We deal with adults and your mother has no problem with me
carrying out your father’s wishes.”
    Just girls? Bah!
    “Mum has no problem with wearing the same pyjamas, non-stop, for over a month either,” I point out. “So she’s hardly the best judge of what is and isn’t okay. Also,
my dad is NOT DEAD!” Why do I have to keep reminding everyone? “So he doesn’t need a life insurance policy.”
    “Nevertheless, I have my instructions.” Insurance Man withdraws his hand and puts it in his trouser pocket. “And unless an adult objects, I will be carrying them out. My work
colleagues here will deal with your complaints.”
    He beckons to two enormous men in muscle-vests who are lugging boxes down the stairs. I don’t catch their names but they sound something like Ug and Thug.
    I look up at Ug and Thug.
    Ug and Thug look down at me.
    It’s hard to put my complaints into words because:
    i.   I don’t know anything about life insurance.
    ii.  Ug and Thug’s bulging biceps are VERY LARGE.
    Before I can say, “So what exactly is ‘Removal and Disposal’?” Insurance Man has filled his turquoise van with boxes and (Th)Ugs and sped away.
    “Who was that?” Uncle Max arrives with one of Vigil-Aunty’s unidentified-vegetable casseroles.
    Holly grabs the casserole and slams it down on the hallway table. “A man who made me want to kick things.”
    “Ow!” Uncle Max grabs his ankle.
    “They were from Dad’s insurance company,” I explain. “They took a load of stuff for ‘Removal and Disposal’. The man said it was part of Dad’s life
insurance policy.”
    “‘Removal and Disposal’?” Uncle Max barges past me.
    He yanks open drawers and cupboards and throws a mantrum in the hallway about some missing Hugo Box cufflinks he’d had his eye on.
    “‘Removal and Disposal’?” he repeats, stamping his feet like a toddler. “That’s not even a thing.”
    If it’s not a thing, it’s a clue.
    CLUE 7
    Someone wants Dad’s belongings: cufflinks, underpants and all.
    Clue or not, I wish Fake Insurance Man had left some of Dad’s stuff behind. I miss it and I miss him. Dad, I mean, not Fake Insurance Man. I don’t miss Fake
Insurance Man at all. He slammed doors and smelt of cheese. Dad smells of Imperial Leather soap and breath-mints. But it’s not just Dad’s cleanliness I miss. I miss the time we spent
together discussing the latest discoveries in brain science. And I miss his help with my brain ray invention.
    I came up with the brain ray concept last year because I wanted to give people a way to increase their IQ so Dad would like them more. Dad loved the idea and we’ve been working on it ever
since.
    Holly thinks it’s stupid and says I’ll never convince her or Mum to use it.
    I’ve told Holly a thousand times I didn’t invent it with Mum