The Mysterious Case of The Missing Grandma

Danny was sitting out the front of Danny's Salvage Emporium, hoping no customers would come and bother him and Woof until they finished their lunches. Not that Woof would mind so long as the customer doesn't get between him and his tucker. But Danny always worried about the etiquette of

the occasion. Should he offer to share his meat-pie and sauce with the intruding customer? Should he offer a swig out of his beer bottle? The answer was a 'Back in 1 hour' sign out front and himself sitting on an old car-seat out the back. I must do that one day, he thought. But in the meantime, he was leaning forward, elbows on his knees so the pie juice won't dribble onto his overalls or onto his old sofa. Danny finished his pie,wiped his hands on his overalls and rinsed his innards with the last mouthful of beer. A loud belch finished off his lunch.

"A quick nap and then we'll power into all the jobs piling up, ay Woof?" He said. Gees, I'm talking to meself and Woof. Is that a sign of dementia or old age? Not that I'm old yet like me mate, Grandpa. He turned eighty just the other week. I'm just a boy of seventy eight, same as Grandma. Except she's a girl, of course. Damn fine lookin' girl too, what's more! “Might just close me eyes for a few minutes.That leaves you in charge, Woof.”

Danny had scarcely closed his eyes when he heard his name being called. If I don't open me eyes, they'll think I'm dead and go away. But the summoning was persistent. What the hell's wrong with Woof! Why isn't he wreaking carnage on the intruder? Because it's Grandpa. I thought I recognised the voice.

“Wake up yer dozy old bugger! Look at this!” Grandpa was yelling and puffing. “What'll I do? You gotta help me!”

“If I must,” Danny replied. “Will you go away, if I do?”

“Read it, Danny! Just read it!” Grandpa was insistent to the point of hysteria, Danny realised.

“Ain't got me glasses,” Danny said, sat up and squinted. “Oh, it's writ big. It says, 'Grandpa please help me'. Bloody what? Where's Grandma? That's her writin'. What did you do to her?”

“I didn't do nuthin' to her. She's gone! She's always home to get me lunch. Somebody's grabbed her. Kidnapped her. She's gotta be terrified,” Grandpa wailed.

“More likely whoever grabbed her is probably terrified of her by now,” Danny said.

“Danny, you're bein' a smart-alec. She's obviously in deadly peril!

“Yeah. Sorry mate. What'll we do?”

“Wait for a ransom note. I dunno what else we can do,” Grandpa said as he collapsed on the old sofa next to Woof who let out a menacing growl.

“Nah, mate. One thing I learnt is yer gotta take it up to the enemy,” Danny said resolutely. “Stick it to'em! Keep 'em off balance.”

“Right, Danny. But how?”

“We'll go to the cops. They handle this sort of thing all the time,” Danny assured him.

“What? Mick? Sergeant Mick? All he does is shut the pub on time and even then we go around to the back door and carry on.” Grandpa couldn't believe his own ears. “Poor old Mick couldn't find his own bum with both hands.”

“It's a start, Grandpa. We gotta register her as missing. Maybe Mick can get some serious coppers in from Sydney. Come on, I'll drive us into town.”

----

Danny parked in front of the police station. There was usually plenty of parking space because of the sign reading,'No Parking Police Vehicles Only.' “C'mon mate. I'm sure Mick'll have a clue.” Grandpa was too upset to express doubts. They burst in to find Sergeant Mick typing reports or some such. Probably his shopping list.

“G'day, boys. You look like yez have got a problem.”

Grandpa and Danny told him. Interrupting each other, talking over the top of each other. Grandpa thrust Grandma's note under his nose, “Look, Sarge, look.”

“Holy hell!” Exclaimed Mick. “Hang on, I've gotta take notes. Then I'll inspect the scene of the crime. Right! Now, what's Grandma's full name?” Grandpa told him. “What's Grandma's date of

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birth?”

“Um,” Grandpa said.

“Twelfth of October,” Danny said.

“What year?” The sergeant asked.

“Dunno,” Grandpa shrugged and looked at Danny.

Danny returned the shrug and looked back at Grandpa. “How the hell would I know?”

“Really? All right, how old is Grandma?” Asked the sergeant, pencil poised.

Grandpa said, “I think she's about seventy six or seven.”

“Seventy eight,” said Danny. “Same as me.”

“How do you know that?” Grandpa asked.

“Oh, just a guess.”

“Near enough. Now describe her,” The sergeant demanded.

“What? You danced with her last Xmas." Grandpa reminded him. "You knocked on our door selling raffle tickets to her.”

“Oh yeah. I remember. She's about five foot six,” Mick said.

“Five foot five,” Danny said.

“Grey hair?” Mick asked.

“More like silver,” Danny corrected him.

“Colour of eyes?”

“Um,” Said Grandpa.

“A very nice hazel,” Danny said.

“How the hell would you know that?” Grandpa demanded.

“Grandma's a lovely lookin' lady,” Danny told him. “'Course I notice her. Write that in yer notebook, Mick. Lovely lookin' lady!”

The sergeant nodded and started to write. “Wait a bit! That's an opinion not a description. Now what about distinguishing features?”

“What are you on about? What sorta distinguishing features,” Grandpa asked.

“Grandpa, what Mick's referring to is something different or special,” Danny explained, “for instance, has Grandma got a tattoo or a freckle on her bum?”

“No. That's a beauty spot. That's what Grandma calls it. Wait a Minute! You bloody pervert! How do you know about that?” Grandpa was leaning into Danny and looked very threatening.

“You just told us, You silly old bugger. Now get outa me face or I'll rip yours off.”

Mick quickly got between them and said, “Calm down, we've got work to do if we're going to rescue Grandma. I've got enough information for the moment so let's go and inspect the crime scene for evidence and clues.” He thought to himself that this case could give his career a boost. Promotion and a posting to the Big Smoke. The missus will be pleased.

And off they sped. The sergeant had his flashing lights on and siren blaring. He found this very satisfying. Here in Hick City, as he thought of it, nothing ever justified his twos and blues. Danny was driving more leisurely, Grandpa was sitting forward hanging onto the dashboard, “C'mon Danny put yer foot down, he's losing us.”

“Mate, your house is only half a klick up the road. We'll be there before Mick can open his door.” They arrived about the same time and Grandpa immediately raced through the front door and into the house yelling, “Grandma, are you there?”

The sergeant looked around, “Danny go and check the toilet.”

“C'mon, Mick. Yer reckon she's sending ransom notes from the dunny?”

“Checking all eventualities,” Mick huffed. “That's the hallmark of a good investigator.”

Danny stomped off to the dunny, muttering to himself. A very upset Grandpa emerged from the house. “She's not here, Mick.”
“Right Grandpa, We'll conduct a thorough and methodical search. Grandpa, look for anything unusual.”

Upon returning, Danny told them that Grandma was not hiding out in the dunny. “Where else can 3

we look?”

“A three bedroom house.” The sergeant told them. “We'll take a bedroom each. Look for anything unusual or signs of violence.”

“Violence?” A distraught Grandpa nearly screamed. After a few minutes Grandpa and Danny reported back to the sergeant who had his head nearly under a bed. “Nothin' Mick,” They told him.

“Nothin' here, either,” Mick said and stood up. “I'll add the results of this search to my report and fax it to Sydney marked urgent.”

The three of them were jammed into the spare room staring glumly at each other.

“What cha doin', boys.”

There was a moments silence and then a chorus of, “Grandmas!” rang out. “What? Where?

Are you alright?”

“Put me down, Grandpa! You're hurting me. What on earth are you all doing?”

Grandpa, Danny and Mick were all talking at once. Mick was trying to take notes.

“Quiet, quiet! I'm going to put the jug on. Grandpa, let me go, you get the biscuit tin. We'll all sit down and talk. One at a time. And yes Grandpa, I'm all right. No Sergeant, I haven't been kidnapped.”

“Grandma. May I call you Grandma?” the sergeant asked.

“No. you may not. Your wife calls me Ethel. So can you. Incidentally, I've just had coffee with her.”

“So Grandma, sorry, Ethel. Do you deny writing this alarming note that precipitated a manhunt and a time-wasting search.” The sergeant held out the note in question for Grandma's inspection.

“In Gladwrap, Sergeant?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I've run out of evidence bags. I had to wrap it in something to preserve any incriminating fingerprints. But back to the point. Did you ---.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Grandma interrupted him. “Guilty as charged.”

“But, but what's it all about?” asked the puzzled sergeant

“Simple. Grandpa do you recognise Exhibit A. It is exhibit A, I take it? Sergeant?

“I suppose so.”

“Grandpa, will you explain the note while I pour the tea?" Grandma asked.

"It's Grandpa's fault!" Danny said. "I bloody knew it."

“Don't swear, Danny, or I'll have the sergeant lock you up for lewdness." Grandma was enjoying herself.

“Yeah. Shut up Danny. Now Grandpa, Grandma said you're at fault,” the sergeant said.

“That's Ethel, Sergeant,” Grandma insisted.

“Oops, sorry.”

“It's no use asking Grandpa. I'll come clean, copper. I wrote the note about a year ago. Actually, that's half the note. But I'll get to that. Here's the other half,” she said and produced a small, folded bit of paper covered in handwriting and handed it to the sergeant.

The sergeant carefully unfolded it and read, “"Sugar, baked beans---- This is a shopping list."

"Turn it over, Sherlock."

"---paint the lounge room this afternoon.”

“So Sergeant, if you read exhibit A and the newly discovered exhibit B together, you get?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” He said, 'Grandpa, please help me paint the lounge room this afternoon.'”

“A year ago I had to go next door to help poor old Bea and I knew Grandpa would breeze in, make himself a sandwich and go and hide somewhere.” Grandma told them. “Looking right at you, Danny, and your flea-bitten den of iniquity. And that would be another day lost. Do you remember, Grandpa?”

“Um, er.”

“A moment Ethel.” Said the sergeant. “That doesn't explain why the very worrying half a note.”

“Elementary, my dear sergeant. A certain villain, amongst us even now, took my shopping notebook this morning--- Grandpa? I found this old bit of notepaper lying in the dresser drawer, tore 4

it in half and made a shopping list. Where's my notebook, Grandpa!” Grandma demanded, her hand out.

“Yeah well, I had to write down some measurements for a new verandah rail. Here you are. You

can have it back. You never were a good sharer anyway, Grandma. But I don't remember that

painting note. That's a long time ago.”

"So I've been shopping. Had coffee with your wife, Sergeant, who just dropped me off here, five minutes ago and I walk into my own home and find a Three Stooges performance.

“A bit unkind, Ethel,” huffed the sergeant. “What I'm going to do is go back to the police station, ring my superiors and see if I can charge the lot of you with conspiracy, interfering with a policeman in the course of his duty and even littering.”

“Mick,” said Grandma. “See that telephone just there.” Pointing. “Well, I'm going to call my friend, your wife, and tell her that you've been making gay overtures to Grandpa.”

“What! Bloody what!” Said Mick.

“No no!” Said Grandpa.

“I often wondered,” said Danny.

“Sorry about all that, Grandpa,” said Grandma and gave him a hug. “As a matter of interest, if you'd found the other half of the note, would you have started to paint the lounge room for me?”

“Of course!” Said Grandpa, fingers crossed behind his back.

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