smugglers: an amy carter mystery (extract)

a podcast-linked crime thriller

The Amy Carter Mysteries

Smugglers!

This edition published in Great Britain in 2009 by Quest, an imprint of Top That! Publishing plc,Marine House, Tide Mill Way, Woodbridge, Suffolk, IP12 1AP, UK

www.quest-books.co.uk

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Creative Director – Simon CouchmanEditorial Director – Daniel Graham

Art Editor – Matt DennyCommissioning Editor – Lorna Thomson

Podcast Engineer – Paul Strandoo

Written by Karen King

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, ortransmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,

without the prior written permission of the publisher.Neither this book nor any part or any of the illustrations, photographs or reproductions contained in itshall be sold or disposed of otherwise than as a complete book, and any unauthorised sale of such partillustration, photograph or reproduction shall be deemed to be a breach of the publisher’s copyright.

ISBN 978-1-84666-810-4

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British LibraryPrinted and bound in China

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’simagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is

entirely coincidental.

With thanks to the following voice actors:Amy Carter: Valentina Huxley

Max: Cameron CaseySid the Sniff: Steve Wooldridge

Will: Mick FarrowSuzanna from Nite Life: Linda Wooldridge

Lee from Nite Life: Steve Wooldridge

Published by Quest.Quest is an imprint of Top That! Publishing plc,

Tide Mill Way, Woodbridge, Suffolk, IP12 1AP, UKwww.quest-books.co.uk

Copyright © 2009 Top That! Publishing plc. All rights reserved


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Chapter 1

The Light

There it was again. I frowned at the distant flashing

light, just visible over the rooftops from my attic

bedroom. I’d been up late, talking on the Internet to

my buddies back home in the USA, and had glanced

out of the window before getting into bed. That’s

when I’d noticed the light.

It had been flashing for over five minutes now,

and I was sure it was a signal. It wasn’t an SOS –

I’d counted the flashes and they weren’t the three

short, three long, three short of the distress signal –

but more like on, off, on, off as if to say ‘Hey,

I’m here.’

The sound of a door opening below and footsteps

on the landing distracted my attention from the

window. I crept across my bedroom, opened the

door and peered over the banister, but I couldn’t see

anyone – they must have been too far down the

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stairs. I guessed who it was though – Mr Hodgkin,

one of Gran’s guests. He had arrived at Beachview,

Gran’s B&B, on Friday afternoon, two days ago. He

drives Gran totally loco because he goes out every

night to watch badgers and then spends all morning

in bed catching up on his sleep. How weird is that?

When I went back to the window and stared out,

the light had stopped flashing. I shrugged. It was

probably the beam from the lighthouse, the beach

was over in that direction. I mean, who’d be

flashing a light at one thirty in the morning? I

dropped the curtains, climbed into bed and snuggled

down to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

I could see Gran was in a bad mood as soon as I

walked into the kitchen the next morning. She was

banging the plates down as she laid the table, her

lips pursed and her face tight and pinched.

I glanced at the clock. Seven thirty, so I wasn’t

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Smugglers!

late for breakfast and, thankfully, I’d had a quick

shower, pulled on some shorts and a tee shirt and

combed my hair before I went down. Gran hated it

if anyone turned up at the breakfast table without

getting washed and dressed first. Maybe, for once, it

was someone else who had upset her.

Not Mr Winkleberry, of course. He was making

a pot of tea and looked very much at home, as

usual. He’d been staying at the B&B for years and

was here for the whole summer. He and Gran

seemed to be getting a bit sweet on each other,

which was really cringeworthy. I mean, they’re both

pretty ancient.

‘Do you need any help, Gran?’ I asked

tentatively. When Gran had that look on her face

she was liable to snap my head off just for breathing.

‘You could set out the cutlery, please, Amy.’

Gran banged another plate down on the table and

then glanced over at me. She looked real mad. ‘Of

course, Mr Hodgkin won’t be joining us for

breakfast. I heard him come in at half past five this

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morning. Half past five! Can you believe it? Now

he’ll be in bed until lunchtime again and I won’t

be able to clean his room and put fresh towels

in there.’

‘Would you like me to have a word with him,

Sue?’ Mr Winkleberry asked. ‘You shouldn’t have

to put up with this.’

‘No, I’ll deal with it,’ Gran said. ‘I’ll speak to him

later, but thank you for the offer.’

‘How long’s he staying for?’ I asked.

Before Gran could answer, a waft of sickly sweet

perfume drifted through the door and then Miss

Pearce floated in, dressed top to toe in designer gear

and dripping with gold jewellery. She’d arrived

yesterday afternoon and for some strange reason

seemed to have taken a shine to Mr Winkleberry,

even though he must be at least ten years older than

her. They’d spent a couple of hours chatting last

night. She homed in on him now.

‘Good morning, David.’ She flashed him a

dazzling smile then nodded at Gran, ‘Mrs Carter.’

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Smugglers!

She sat down at the table, completely ignoring me.

‘Are one of those cups of tea for me? Oh, how

lovely! You are kind.’ Another dazzling smile at

Mr Winkleberry.

I tell you, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I

wolfed down my breakfast as fast as I could, loaded

the plate in the dishwasher, muttered ‘I’m off for a

walk,’ and made a quick exit.

Fluffy, Gran’s bichon frise, followed me,

watching forlornly from the doorstep as I walked

out of the backyard. I would have taken her, but I

was heading for the beach and I knew that Gran

would go seriously nuts if I got any sea water or

sand on her precious Fluffy’s curly white fur. Fluffy

was not only her pride and joy but a champion

show dog, so was one pampered pooch.

Before I’d even turned the corner of Gran’s end

terraced house, I heard footsteps running after me.

‘Where are you sneaking off to?’

It was Max, the kid next door. I might have

known he’d be looking out for me. He was like my

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shadow now he’d helped me solve two cases: the

kidnapping of Fluffy and the sabotage of Old Joe’s

cottage. Mind you, I was the one who’d done all the

super-sleuthing – I’d done some crime busting back

home in the US so was pretty experienced at it –

Max had just tagged along for the ride. Trouble is,

now he thought we were best buddies, but hanging

around with a nine-year-old kid is so not cool.

‘I’m not sneaking around, I’m going for a walk

along the beach,’ I told him. ‘See you later.’ I

shoved my hands in my pockets and sauntered

around the corner.

Max caught up with me. ‘I’ll come too, just in

case you get lost,’ he said.

That was always Max’s excuse for hanging

around me. I’d only been in Little Cragg a few

weeks – my parents were touring Europe with the

musical show they starred in so I’d come to stay

with Gran in England for the summer – but I pretty

much knew my way around by now.

‘I can manage, thanks,’ I told him. ‘Does

Mummy know you’re out?’

He scowled. He hated it when I reminded him

how much younger than me he was. Four years to

be exact, which by my reasoning made me the boss,

though Max didn’t always see it that way.

‘Okay, go by yourself … but you’ll never find the

smugglers’ caves.’

‘Smugglers’ caves?’ I tried not to sound too

interested.

‘Yeah, not many people know where they are.

But you go off by yourself.’ He turned and started

to walk back.

I hesitated. Max was always doing this. It made

him feel good if he knew something I didn’t. I’d

read a bit about Cornwall before I’d come over and

had been fascinated by its smuggling history. It

would be seriously mega to see the caves, but I

wasn’t about to let Max know how desperate I was.

‘You can come if you like,’ I told him. ‘It’s up

to you.’

I carried on walking. Sure enough, Max was soon

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Smugglers!

back by my side.

‘My great-great-grandad used to be a smuggler,’

he said.

I looked at him to see if he was lying. ‘Straight

up?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘Mum told me all about it. He was

known as Smuggler Ben. These caves I’m gonna

show you are the ones he used to store his stuff.’

Well, that sounded pretty exciting. Exciting

enough to put up with Max’s company anyway.

To my surprise, instead of heading for the main

beach, Max went down towards the harbour. ‘Are

we going to the dog beach?’ I asked. It was

Craggmor Beach really, but the locals called it the

‘dog beach’ because it was the only beach you were

allowed to take dogs in the summer. I knew where

it was because when Fluffy had been kidnapped the

blackmailer had asked us to meet him there with the

ransom money.

‘No, Smugglers’ Bay, it’s a bit further along than

Craggmor Beach. Just follow me.’

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Even though it had just gone nine, the harbour

front was crowded with tourists wanting to make

the most of the sunshine. They walked along the

middle of the road, three or four abreast, regardless

of the car drivers hooting their horns angrily at

them. We weaved in and out of the crowds, which,

thankfully, dwindled once we left the harbour front.

Then, Max led the way past the dog beach, around

a couple of corners, down a side street and then

stopped at some stone steps, almost hidden by a

high wall. I peered over the wall and saw a stretch

of golden sand in front of me. Amazing! I’d never

have guessed a beach was hidden here. There was

no sign of any caves though.

‘Where are the caves?’ I asked.

‘You can’t see them from here,’ Max said.

The steps were narrow and broken here and there

so we had to go down real careful – one slip and

we’d be at the bottom a lot quicker than we

planned and probably with a couple of broken

bones in the process.

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Smugglers!

As soon as we reached the bottom I looked

around for the caves. Some big black rocks towered

above us on the right like a high wall, gradually

getting smaller and smaller until they were only

boulders scattered along the beach. In front of us

was the ocean, to the left the beach stretched as far

as I could see. ‘So, where are the caves?’ I asked.

‘Behind those rocks. There’s another beach there,

it’s like a secret cove,’ Max said.

We took off our trainers, stuffed our socks in and

carried them as we walked barefoot over the sand to

the smaller rocks. The sea lapped gently over the

rocks and I couldn’t resist paddling in it before

climbing over.

I jumped down and gazed in awe at the scene in

front of me.

We were in a little cove, flanked by a huge black

cliff so tall that when I looked up I felt dizzy.

Several rugged caves were formed in the cliff; deep,

dark holes that held centuries of secrets.

Smugglers’ caves.

10


11

Chapter 2

Danger

I was seriously excited. I put my trainers down on

the sand, whipped out my cellphone and snapped

away, taking photos of the caves, the cove and

the sea.

‘Told you!’ Max said triumphantly. He was

already snapping away with his phone. Ever since

Old Joe had given me a top-of-the-range racing bike

and Max a snazzy new cellphone to thank us for

helping to catch the person who’d been sabotaging

his cottage, Max had been taking photos of just

about everything. I often teased him that he was

acting like a tourist.

‘Mum said that the smugglers unloaded their

cargo off the boats and piled it in one of the caves.

Then they carried it through a secret tunnel to

another cave at the back. I tried to find the tunnel

once but couldn’t,’ he told me.

162


About the Author

Karen King began her writing career with the teenage

magazine Jackie and spent many years writing for various

children’s magazines, including Winnie the Pooh, Rosie and

Jim and Nursery Education, before concentrating solely on

writing books. With over one hundred children’s books

published, Karen writes both fiction and non-fiction titles for

children from pre-school to teens.

Karen’s published work includes Foul Play, Cosmic Whizz Kid,

Space Chase on Planet Zog and The Gold Badge, as well as

Amy Carter’s first two mysteries, Dognapped! and Sabotage!.

Her picture book I Don't Eat Toothpaste Anymore won the

Gold Award for Best Product, and her book entitled The

Birthday Surprise won the Practical Parenting Award.

If you enjoyed

Smugglers!, read

the first and

second Amy

Carter Mysteries,

Dognapped! and

Sabotage!.

Available from all good bookshops!

Quest is an imprint of Top That! Publishing plc,Tide Mill Way, Woodbridge, Suffolk, IP12 1AP, UKwww.quest-books.co.uk Copyright © 2008 Top That! Publishing plc. All rights reservedPrinted and bound in China0 2 4 6 8 9 7 5 3 1


When daring detective Amy Carter spots amysterious flashing light, all her instincts tellher there is mischief afoot. The discovery ofsmugglers’ crates in a secret cave confirms

her suspicions.

With sidekick Max in tow, will the pair exposethe smugglers of Little Cragg or will their

snooping lead to more than they bargained for?

Join Amy in her investigation! Download fivepodcast-linked clues to help piece together the

evidence and solve the case!

RR

P £5.99The Amy Carter Mysteries

Smugglers!

smugglers: an amy carter mystery (extract)

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