The Case of the Disappearing Corpse Read Online Free PDF

mountain-climber.”
    “That’s baby stuff. And anyway, I’m not real good with heights. Come on, Patsy. Can you remember anything about the murder weapon?”
    “Murder weapon?”
    “The knife.”
    “Oh. I dunno.” She stood up and started pacing up and down the room. “I guess it was narrow. Sharp. Looked something like one of those Chinese daggers you see in Kung Fu movies.”
    Hmmm…what did we have so far? The suspect was a kung-fu, dagger toting, Chinese female carrying a pink handkerchief. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.
    “Who do you think killed Frank?”
    Patsy shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t even know the guy.” A thoughtful frown flitted across her forehead. “But come to think of it, there were a couple of men watching Frank outside the class. When they poked their heads around the door Frank got real agitated and sort of tried to hide behind me. I quickly shoved him away though.”
    “What did they look like?”
    Could they be members of the Chinese woman’s gang?
    “Wasn’t paying much attention at the time but I remember they both wore overalls. You know—like painters.”
    “What happened to the body?” I asked standing up and watching Patsy pace.
    She blinked, shook her head as though she was having trouble keeping up with me. “That’s the funny part,” she answered at last. “I went inside to ring the police and when I came back out, the body was gone. Thought I heard a car, but couldn’t be certain. You know, like my heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear the cop on the phone.”
    “You mean someone pinched the body?”
    “How do I know?” She shook her head, let me out of the sleep-out and closed the door behind her. “I guess some people will pinch anything.”
    “But a body?”
    “Hey, all I know is Frank was gone. There was just a flattened row of pansies to show where he’d been.” She led the way through the house. “Weird.”
    “Totally,” I agreed, clasping the key to Patsy’s house in my sweaty little hand as I waved goodbye at the front door.
    “Hey, Cha,” Patsy called as I started down the driveway. “Funny you should ask about knowing someone whose name starts with a K.”
    I stopped. “Yeah?”
    “Krystal Masters is the leader of our Laughing Class.”

Six
    Krystal Masters?
    Hmm…that didn’t sound much like a Kung fu, dagger throwing Chinese woman who carried a pink handkerchief. Oh well…I guess she could have changed her name when she decided to become a crook.
    A sudden gust of wind straight off the sea stood my hair on end, tugging at it like a giant vacuum cleaner. I staggered toward my bike and unchained it from the fence. Now what? I didn’t want to go home—that wasn’t a fun place to be—so figured I’d go dig up more clues.
    Which sounded pretty cool. But how?
    There was always the Semaphore public library. I could spend an hour searching through old newspapers, hoping Krystal Masters’ name popped up somewhere in the crime pages.
    Sounded a bit dull though.
    Or, being dead keen to practice more P.I. stuff, I could ride my bike to the church hall. Who knows? Someone other than Patsy might have seen those two suspicious painters hanging around.
    Arriving at the hall, I chained my bike to the fence and looked around. Not a soul in sight, which meant I had to knock on doors.
    Aaaargh!
    My stomach did a double somersault with a twist. Perhaps I should have left the questioning until the following morning and brought Tayla with me. Her curly hair, big blue eyes and sweet smile could get answers from a fence post. Me—I seemed to have the opposite effect on people.
    Okay…stop with the negative thoughts.
    I lifted my chin, straightened my shoulders and banged the heel of my hand against my forehead.
    “Get lost bad thoughts,” I shouted, scaring a scavenging seagull into flight.
    Now…think like a professional. P.I.s do not need big blue eyes. They need sneakiness, brains and the right clothes.
    I glanced down at my raggedy