The Harriet Bean 3-Book Omnibus (11 page)

He nodded. “We like to see cheating as good as that.” He glanced over his shoulder. Ted had melted away and there was nobody else around. “In fact, would you be interested in meeting somebody who could help you with your cheating?”

My heart gave a leap. This was it! This was the invitation that would enable me to expose the League of Cheats.

“I would,” I said eagerly.

“Then come with me,” the man said, nodding in the direction of the other end of the racetrack. “I’ll take you to the boss.”

We struggled through the crowd of racegoers, the dishonest-looking man leading the way. Some of the people recognized me as the jockey who had ridden Black Lightning and fallen off so quickly. One or two of them muttered something under their breath, and another hissed “Cheat” as I walked past.

There were several cars and trucks parked at the end of the racetrack. Here and there, groups of men were standing around, talking to one another or unsaddling horses. My companion approached one of these groups, telling me to wait until he called me over. I stood where I was, watching while he spoke
briefly to a rather fat figure in a white suit. As he did so, this man looked over in my direction and then nodded. With a wave of the hand I was beckoned over.

I walked toward them slowly, my heart beating like a hammer within me. I had succeeded in getting right to the heart of the League of Cheats, but what now? Ted had promised that he would arrive with Mr. Fetlock, but where were they? Did he expect me to challenge Charlie Heat myself?

The fat man was looking hard at me.

“I saw your fall,” he said. “It was a good piece of cheating, very good.”

I looked at his eyes. They were like the eyes of a snake, small and bright, and very, very sly. Even if I did not know who he was, I would have distrusted him immediately. There was something about him that was frightening. He was the sort of person you met in nightmares, the sort of person who made you wake up with the sharp taste of fear in your mouth.

“I could use your help,” he went on, his eyes still boring into me. “I could find work for you.”

I pretended not to understand. “What sort of work?” I asked. “Would it be with horses?”

Charlie Heat smiled. “Horses could come into it,” he said. “But there’d be other things too. There are all kinds of things to cheat in, you know: running competitions, jumping competitions, quiz shows, dog shows, cat shows. In fact, anything at all.”

I listened to him in astonishment. What possible reason could there be for cheating on such a scale? Was he crazy? Perhaps that was the answer: perhaps Charlie Heat was a madman after all.

I decided to find out directly.

“But how do you manage to cheat in all those things?” I asked.

As I asked my question, Charlie Heat’s eyes began to glow, and he started to shake as he gave his answer.

“It’s because of
them!”
he said. “All those
so-called honest people! Oh, I could tell you a thing or two! I could tell you about the time I sabotaged a dog show by slipping in a cat disguised as a dog. The dogs went wild! You’ve never seen such a scene. It totally ruined the show!”

He laughed out loud, a horrible, sneering laugh. Then he went on, “And then there was the time my buddy Billy entered a swimming contest and I had my people secretly sew lead weights into the swimsuits of the other competitors. Oh, that was a treat! It was all they could do to keep afloat, let alone swim fast. My friend won by six lengths, he did! Six lengths!”

“But why do you like cheating so much?” The question slipped out without my thinking.

He looked at me as if he was puzzled that anybody could ask such a silly thing.

“Why do I like cheating?” he asked. “As I told you, it’s because of
them
—those snivelling, sneaky, ‘Aren’t I better than you?’ honest people.
They
accused me of cheating
when I was a little boy, and I shall never forgive them for it. I vowed to make them pay for it, and I certainly have!”

“And did you cheat when you were a boy?” I asked.

“Of course I did,” snapped Charlie Heat. “Who wouldn’t?”

For a moment I said nothing. Then I could contain myself no longer.

“I wouldn’t!” I shouted. “I think cheating’s a terrible thing to do. And I would never, never work for you and your League of Cheats!”

There! I had said it. But what would happen now?

His eyes opened wide, and I could tell that I had surprised him.

“Who told you about the League of Cheats?” he asked icily.

I took a deep breath. It was no use waiting for Ted and Mr. Fetlock now. I would have to be brave.

“I know all about you,” I said. “You’re Charlie Heat, president of the League of
Cheats. You’ve been cheating Mr. Fetlock and lots of other people too. And we’re going to show you up for what you are!”

Charlie Heat’s eyes narrowed again, and he took a quick step forward. Then, in a sudden swoop, he grabbed the lapels of my jacket and lifted me up in the air.

“Oh, yes?” he said menacingly. “And who’s going to believe you?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but no sound came out. I was so frightened that my tongue seemed to have stuck to the top of my mouth. I tried to wriggle free, but Charlie Heat’s grip was too tight, and I only found myself more firmly trapped. Then, just when I thought that all was lost, I heard a voice from behind us.

“I’ll believe her!” the voice cried.

Charlie Heat spun around, still holding me in midair. There was nobody there—nobody, that is, apart from a strange-looking black-and-white horse.

“What was that?” shouted Charlie Heat.

“I said, I’ll believe her, Mr. Heat! Your
cheating days are over!” the voice said again.

I could hardly believe it, but there was only one explanation. The horse was talking.

Charlie was so astonished that he let me drop with a thump.

“I … I…,” he stuttered.

The horse took a few steps forward, and as it did so I realized that I knew its voice. It was Aunt Japonica in another of her brilliant disguises.

Charlie Heat, though, did not know this, and he turned pale with fear. Then, turning on his heels, he shot off down the racetrack, squealing with fright.

“Quick!” said Aunt Japonica from within her horse costume. “Jump on.”

I looked at the horse’s back. It looked rather bumpy and uncomfortable, but I did as I was told.

“Ow!” came Aunt Thessalonika’s voice from behind me. “Careful where you put your feet.”

“Off we go,” called Aunt Japonica from
the front, and off we went, with Aunt Japonica as the front legs and Aunt Thessalonika as the back. It was not a smooth ride, but it was certainly safer than Black Lightning.

Charlie Heat could not run very fast, and we were gaining on him. Ahead of us, though, was a large jump, and I wondered how he would deal with this. Surely that would stop him long enough for us to catch up with him.

“We’ve got him now,” panted Aunt Japonica. “He’ll never be able to get over that jump.”

I thought so too, but just at that moment, the running figure of Charlie Heat swerved to one side and went
around
the jump!

“Look at that!” shouted Aunt Japonica in indignation. “What a cheat!”

We galloped, or rather my aunts galloped, all the quicker, so angry were they with Charlie Heat’s behavior. We were now approaching the jump ourselves, and at any moment I expected my aunts to swerve and follow Charlie Heat around the side of the
jump. But no. My aunts would never cheat, and with a great leap, the aunt-filled horse, with me on its back, sailed into the air and over the jump. For a terrible moment I thought I would fall again, just as I had done when Black Lightning launched himself over the jump, but somehow I managed to hang on. Then, with a thump, we landed and galloped away after the now very tired Charlie Heat.

Within minutes we had caught up with him. He was so tired and frightened, he could run no more.

“I give up! I give up!” he squealed as he collapsed to the ground, his white suit covered with mud.

I climbed down, and Aunt Japonica soon appeared from the front of the horse outfit. With a little struggling and pushing, both aunts had soon worked themselves free, and the outfit lay limp on the ground. There was shouting in the distance, and to my relief I saw Mr. Fetlock, together with Ed, Ted, and Fred, running over the grass to join us.

“Here’s the cheat,” said Aunt Japonica, pointing at the wretched Charlie Heat.

“Well done!” cried Mr. Fetlock, beaming with pleasure.

“Don’t congratulate us,” said Aunt Thessalonika modestly. “It’s Harriet Bean who deserves the praise.”

Mr. Fetlock warmly shook my hand, as did the jockeys. Then, while the men led Charlie Heat off for a little talk with the racetrack police, I helped my two detective aunts roll up their horse outfit and carry it back to Mr. Fetlock’s truck.

“That was a very clever plan,” said Aunt Japonica. “We had suspected Charlie Heat for some time, and this proved that our suspicions were right.”

I was puzzled. “But why did you suspect him?” I asked.

Aunt Japonica laughed. “It was simple,” she said. “Look at his name. There’s a strong clue there.”

I thought of his name. Charlie Heat. Mr. Heat. Mr. C. Heat. C. Heat. Cheat!

“I see,” I said, laughing. “That was a very good clue.”

“Yes,” said Aunt Japonica. “Sometimes names tell us a great deal. Did I ever tell you about how we caught a famous thief purely because I thought there was something funny about his name?”

“Oh, yes,” chipped in Aunt Thessalonika. “The case of Mr. R. O’Ber. That was a very interesting case.”

But there was no time for my aunts to tell me about it that day, as we had now arrived back at the truck and we could see that Mr. Fetlock had set up some sort of party to celebrate the end of the League of Cheats. There were delicious-looking cakes set out on a folding table and all sorts of wonderful sandwiches.

We had a very good feast. Even Black Lightning enjoyed himself and ate six cucumber sandwiches in one mouthful.

“A good mystery is always best when it’s over,” said Aunt Japonica as she licked the cream off her fingers.

“I agree,” said Aunt Thessalonika, her mouth full of sandwich.

“And so do I,” I said.

I like getting letters from my aunts. Every morning, while my father is still having his breakfast, I go into the hall and check to see what the mailman brought. Often it’s dull, very dull—bills in brown envelopes or letters to my father about one of his inventions—but sometimes I see an envelope that lifts my spirits instantly. These are the letters from my aunts.

I have five aunts, you see. You may have read all about them before and, if you have, you’ll know all about how they were lost (which was my father’s fault) and then found again. And what marvelous aunts they
turned out to be! There is Aunt Veronica, the strong lady at the circus; Aunt Harmonica, the ventriloquist; Aunt Majolica, the bossy one (who really isn’t so bad after all); and finally Aunts Thessalonika and Japonica, the private detectives and mind readers. Is that all of them? Let me see: Veronica, Harmonica, Majolica, Thessalonika, and Japonica. Yes, that makes five.