Fabio The World's Greatest Flamingo Detective Read online

  For Julez – L.J.

  For Uncle Phil and Aunty Ruth – E.F.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  I n a small town on the banks of Lake Laloozee lives the world’s greatest flamingo detective. His name is Fabio. He’s not tall or strong, but slight and pink. And he’s very, very clever.

  At his side for every case is his friend and associate, Gilbert, a giraffe terrible at the art of disguise but good at asking questions – sometimes even the right ones.

  As the sun began to set, Fabio and his great friend Gilbert walked through the splendid doors of the Hotel Royale. It was time for a cool glass of pink lemonade. Little did they know, as they were greeted by Smith, the hotel’s owner, that this pleasant place was about to be hit by a big mystery.

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’

  Smith led them through the grand but entirely empty lobby to the terrace at the back of the hotel, where they took their usual table by the pool.

  At the bar a rhino rustled her newspaper.

  Smith was a grumpy old vulture. Fabio had known him for many years. He ran the hotel with his sister, Penelope, who was a temperamental chef. Penelope’s daughter Violet had just started working at the hotel too.

  ‘It’s very quiet in here this evening,’ commented Fabio, taking note of his surroundings.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Smith unhappily. ‘Business is slow. Violet has decided to hold a talent contest to liven the place up a bit.’ He presented Fabio and Gilbert with the lemonade menu and gave a small bow. ‘It won’t work,’ he added gloomily. Smith, Fabio knew, did not welcome Violet’s schemes. She was going to have a tough time changing things at the hotel.

  Fabio spotted Violet putting up a poster advertising the contest.

  Smith beckoned her over. ‘Violet, come and say hello to Mr Fabio and his good friend Gordon.’

  ‘Gilbert,’ Gilbert corrected him. He’d been correcting Smith for years.

  ‘Hello, Mr Fabio, Mr Gilbert,’ said Violet. ‘Lovely evening, isn’t it?’

  The rhino at the bar thrust her nose over the top of her newspaper. ‘I knew it!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re that pink detective, aren’t you?’

  Fabio politely tipped his hat. ‘Fabio, the world’s greatest flamingo detective at your service, madam.’

  ‘The name’s Daphne. But everyone calls me the General. I’m just back from safari. Shall I join you?’

  Without waiting for a response, the General put her newspaper under her arm, bustled over to their table and took a seat between Fabio and Gilbert. It was a bit of a squash.

  No sooner had the General sat down than there was an enormous splash as a hippo launched herself off the diving board and into the pool, drenching everyone at the table.

  ‘Cripes!’ exclaimed Gilbert. ‘What a splendid dive!’

  ‘That’s Julia,’ said Smith, attempting to dry Fabio off with the tablecloth. ‘She’s a singer.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Julia, emerging from the water.

  The General removed her reading glasses to take a close look at her, while she wrung out her second-best shawl in a huff.

  ‘I didn’t know anyone was sitting there,’ Julia continued. ‘Did I get you wet?’

  ‘Only a little,’ said Gilbert untruthfully. ‘But it was worth it. You dive beautifully.’

  Fabio offered Julia a seat. ‘Please, join us. Perhaps, Smith, you could bring pink lemonade for everyone?’

  Smith went off to fetch the drinks and the General charged after him urgently, still wringing out her shawl.

  Julia grabbed a towel and sat down next to Fabio.

  Gilbert moved his chair to make room for her, while Fabio made the introductions.

  ‘It’s nice to see some new faces down by the pool,’ she said. ‘The band and I have been the only ones here all day.’ She pointed to three crocodiles who were trying to catch the last rays of sun on the far side of the pool.

  Noticing they were being watched, they waved.

  Gilbert returned an enthusiastic wave and Fabio tipped his hat to them.

  Violet came back with a fresh tablecloth.

  ‘I’m sure Violet’s talent contest will help cheer the place up a bit,’ said Fabio, smiling at the young vulture.

  ‘Oh I do hope so,’ said Violet. ‘I’ve got lots of ideas. I just need this first one to really take off so that my uncle will let me do more.’

  ‘We’re going to enter,’ said Julia. ‘We were discussing it this afternoon.’

  Just then Smith returned to the table with the drinks, and the General also reappeared, looking considerably drier.

  ‘ACHOOOOOO!’ The General sneezed dramatically. ‘Oh, dearie me. I’m coming down with a cold. It must have been all that water.’

  Fabio narrowed his eyes, the way he did when he thought something out of the ordinary was happening. ‘You’ve come down with a cold very quickly,’ he commented.

  ‘You can’t be ill now,’ Violet said to the General. ‘You’re the head judge for my talent contest.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Violet, but when I catch a cold, I really catch a cold,’ replied the General. ‘I certainly won’t be able to judge the contest.’

  ‘But what shall I do?’ moaned Violet. ‘The auditions are tomorrow!’

  ‘Perhaps you should ask Fabio to be head judge,’ suggested Julia.

  ‘No, no, no, my friend,’ protested Fabio, shaking his head.

  ‘It’s a lot of hard work …’ the General began, only to be interrupted by an enthusiastic Gilbert.

  ‘You’d be a great judge!’

  ‘Please will you do it?’ urged Violet. ‘If we have someone as famous as you judging the competition, we’re sure to bring in a crowd.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said Julia, raising her glass and not giving Fabio a chance for further protest. ‘To the new head judge of the talent contest.’

  ‘To Fabio!’ chimed Gilbert.

  The General picked up her handbag, seemingly annoyed by the whole thing. ‘Fine,’ she said. And then, as if remembering something, ‘By the way, good luck with that slippery snake and no-good bird. You’ll be sorry you agreed to this, mark my words.’

  And with that, she marched off.

  ‘What do you think she meant by that?’ asked Gilbert when the General was out of earshot.

  ‘She was talking about the other two judges,’ said Violet. ‘George Percy the Third is a local used-car salesman. He’s got a reputation for doing shady deals, but he used to be a child star, so I thought he’d make a good judge.

  Enid is the other judge. She’s a secretary bird. She used to be a prima ballerina and now runs the Laloozee Ballet Academy.

  She’s very ambitious for her students. George Percy sold her a car a year ago that broke down as soon as she left the garage. They haven’t got on since, but I didn’t know that until after I’d asked them both to judge. There are rumours about Enid too. My cousin’s friend’s friend said she’s been spending the ballet school money on fancy knitting needles.’

  ‘Embezzlement!’ exclaimed Fabio.

  Gilbert looked blank.

  ‘Theft,’ Fabio whispered.

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Gilbert.

  ‘Nothing has ever been proven,’ said Violet, ‘but she’s always on the lookout for extra funding for the academy. She and George Percy bicker all the time.’

  Fabio groaned. The idea of judging the talent contest was getting worse by the m
inute.

  ‘Sounds like you’re going to have your work cut out for you, old chap,’ said Gilbert, after Violet had left them and Julia had returned to the pool to do a couple of lengths before dinner.

  Fabio took a careful sip of his pink lemonade. He was deep in thought. Finally, as if making a decision, he turned to his companion. ‘I’m going to need you to be my eyes and ears during the contest, Gilbert. There’s something strange going on here.’

  ‘Is there?’ asked Gilbert. ‘I say, shall I put on a disguise?’

  ‘If you must,’ replied Fabio.

  The following morning, Fabio and Gilbert walked into the Hotel Royale’s ballroom. The auditions for the talent contest were about to begin. There was a stage at one end of the room, and circular tables were laid out for the audience. Fabio stood at the door and took it all in. He would make sure the talent show was a success. The Hotel Royale closing would, in his mind, be an unthinkable tragedy.

  Violet’s advertising campaign had worked well. Dozens of hopeful contestants were filling the hotel. The food and drink orders were coming thick and fast, and head chef Penelope was furiously shouting at her kitchen staff, who were totally underprepared for such a strong turnout.

  Fabio set up a methodical system for the auditions and each act was given a number. Once he was happy that things would run smoothly, he took his seat as head judge. Gilbert, disguised as a stagehand, hid in the wings at the side of the stage.

  On Fabio’s right was the dubious-looking boa constrictor George Percy the Third. He’d clearly had a good breakfast.

  On Fabio’s left was the secretary bird, Enid, who was knitting her godson a new jumper. The snake and the secretary bird were already having a spat. Enid had accused George Percy of making her drop a stitch. Unintentionally or not, George Percy had then stuck his tongue out. Being a snake, he stuck his tongue out quite a lot, so it was hard to tell.

  Enid was determined to take offence.

  Fabio would not be drawn into the argument. ‘Shall we begin?’ he asked, looking at the long line of noisy contestants queuing to get onstage.

  First in the queue was Violet. She’d brought some sheet music with her, which she handed to the accompanist – a baboon called Ernest.

  ‘In the key of “H”,’ she whispered to him.

  Ernest took the sheet music without saying a word. He’d seen it all before.

  The room fell silent.

  Violet stepped into the spotlight.

  ‘Go ahead, Violet,’ said Fabio. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

  Violet nodded to Ernest, who began to play.

  Fabio settled back into his seat and waited.

  She attempted the first note:

  ‘LaaaaaAAAAAAAaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaAAAAA.’

  As Fabio had suspected, vultures really can’t sing. Everyone except for Fabio and Ernest had their fingers in their ears. (Fabio because of his legendary good manners, and Ernest because he was a true professional and continued to play the piano.)

  Smith, who was in the wings opposite Gilbert’s hiding place, could be heard muttering something about Violet getting back to work.

  Fabio signalled for Violet to stop.

  ‘But I haven’t hit the high notes yet!’ she protested. ‘I’m really good at those!’

  ‘That was lovely, Violet,’ he said. ‘You’re through to the competition.’

  ‘Are you completely mad?’ hissed George Percy the Third.

  ‘Or deaf?’ whispered Enid aggressively.

  ‘She’s the reason the contest is taking place,’ said Fabio quietly. ‘What harm can it do?’

  ‘She’ll empty the place,’ replied Enid.

  ‘You’re through,’ Fabio confirmed, ignoring his fellow judges’ comments. A plan was beginning to form in his head. ‘We look forward to hearing you sing in the contest, Violet.’

  George Percy the Third and Enid looked at each other, for once in agreement.

  Violet was ecstatic.

  Smith harrumphed in the wings and told her to go and look after the family of impala who had just checked in.

  Next up, from the savannah, were a hyena and two jackals who had formed a calypso band. They were followed by an elephant father-and-son magic act. The son proved difficult to cut in half, but he made everyone laugh so they went through too.

  Then Fabio noticed Enid stopping her knitting as a graceful cheetah took to the stage.

  ‘My name is Carl and I shall be telling the story of the three little pigs through the form of interpretive dance,’ he told the judges proudly.

  ‘This will be marvellous, I’m sure,’ murmured Enid.

  ‘Please begin,’ said Fabio.

  It was a complicated piece, made all the more difficult by the fact that the cheetah had to play the parts of the wolf and pigs numbers one, two and three.

  George Percy the Third got a fit of the giggles and an unamused Enid brandished a knitting needle at him. To prevent a full-blown fight, Fabio put the cheetah through to the competition. A breathless Carl bowed his thanks and exited stage left.

  After that came a troupe of can-can-dancing zebras, a chameleon comedian and an aardvark who read poetry.

  In all, the judges watched over twenty acts and, somehow, they all made it through to the big night. Fabio was getting his way. He knew that the more contestants there were, the more supporters there would be on the night. He was keen to back Violet’s entrepreneurship, but he was also keen that his favourite pink lemonade spot would remain open for business.

  ‘I don’t know what happened!’ sighed George Percy the Third as a baton-twirling mongoose headed off stage. ‘Is it time to go home yet?’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Fabio. ‘Where’s Julia?’

  Enid shrugged.

  ‘Who’s Julia?’ asked George Percy the Third.

  ‘I’m Julia!’ said the hippo, stepping into the spotlight.

  Behind her was her band. She introduced them.

  ‘Slapping that bass, we have Kevin.’ Kevin plucked the strings on his double bass.

  ‘On sax, we have Delicious Delilah.’ Delilah swung her saxophone round and let rip some glorious notes.

  ‘Aaaand,’ said Julia, ‘last but by no means least, may we have an amazing drum lick from Tiny Bob.’ Tiny Bob grinned as he bashed his way round the drum kit, ending dramatically on the cymbals.

  The watching crowd was spellbound.

  As the band started up, Julia moved closer to the microphone and began to sway her hips in time with the music.

  Fabio tapped his foot and even George Percy the Third and Enid caught the beat. This promised to be good.

  But just as Julia opened her mouth to sing, the room was plunged into darkness.

  The band stopped playing in a mishmash of notes, and Gilbert almost gave himself away by exclaiming, ‘Oh cripes,’ very loudly.

  ‘This is a fiasco,’ hissed George Percy the Third.

  ‘Will someone turn the lights on?’ Fabio commanded calmly through the chaos.

  Eventually the lights came back on.

  ‘Where’s Julia?’ asked Fabio.

  The hippo was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘She must have gone offstage,’ reasoned George Percy the Third.

  ‘She’s not here,’ said Gilbert, untangling himself from the curtain. ‘Is she with you, Smith?’

  ‘What are you doing there, Gordon?’ asked Smith, taken aback.

  Gilbert looked crestfallen at being recognised.

  ‘Smith, is Julia with you?’ asked Fabio.

  ‘She’s definitely not here,’ replied Smith. ‘I think I’d notice a hippo, don’t you?’

  The band were distraught. They rushed all over the ballroom searching for their lead singer.

  ‘Someone call the police,’ said Fabio. ‘Nobody is allowed in or out of this room until they arrive. Gilbert, guard the door.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’re going overboard, Fabio?’ asked Smith, casting a mean glance at Gilbert. ‘She probably just go
t stage fright.’

  ‘That hippo was born to be on the stage,’ countered Fabio. ‘She would never get stage fright.’

  ‘I’ll phone the police,’ said Violet.

  The Laloozee police took their time arriving. They were not famed for their efficiency, being a bunch of lazy warthogs led by the laziest of the lot: Chief Inspector Duff.

  Duff finally shuffled his way into the ballroom.

  ‘Here’s our criminal,’ he said, trying to fit some handcuffs on to Gilbert. ‘He was hanging around outside the door, looking shifty. What’s he supposed to have done?’

  ‘That is my associate,’ fumed Fabio. ‘Uncuff him now. He’s done nothing wrong.’

  ‘He looks like a criminal to me,’ said Duff. ‘Look at those eyes.’

  Everyone tilted their heads upwards to look at Gilbert’s friendly brown eyes.

  ‘What evidence have you got?’ asked Fabio.

  ‘Er … none actually. I don’t even know the crime yet.’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Fabio.

  Reluctantly Chief Inspector Duff removed the handcuffs from Gilbert.

  ‘I came as soon as I heard,’ puffed the General, appearing behind Duff and Gilbert. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘There’s been a kidnapping,’ replied Fabio.

  ‘Has there?’ Duff removed a pencil from behind his ear and took out his notebook. ‘Description of the victim?’

  ‘She’s big and grey,’ Violet chipped in helpfully.

  ‘Well, here she is,’ said Duff, pointing towards the General. ‘Case solved.’

  ‘That’s not the victim,’ said Fabio. ‘Would you mind, Chief Inspector, if I took over the investigation?’