Riddle Gully Runaway by Jen Banyard Page A

best’s only five-thousand-and-forty. I told you the guy’s a magician!’
    â€˜Let me see that!’ Pollo bumped Will aside and stood before the Monster Mash machine, her eyes glowing. ‘That’s Thursday — the day he left Riddle Gully! So he
did
come here!’ She clapped Will on the shoulder. ‘Will, my friend, you are a genius!’
    â€˜So we’re on the right track,’ said Will blushing. ‘We keep searching.’
    â€˜You bet!’ said Pollo. ‘Bragger Bee — come out, come out wherever you are!’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    But Bragger Bee didn’t come out. Pollo and Will trawled the streets of Maloola asking and looking, but Benson was either hiding or had left town. Eventually they returned to the bench at the war memorial. The breeze off the water had picked up. They huddled shoulder to shoulder, staring out to sea.
    â€˜What do we do now?’ said Will. ‘I guess it’s time to go back to Riddle Gully.’
    â€˜Shsh!’ said Pollo. ‘I’m thinking.’
    â€˜Well I’m hungry,’ said Will. ‘I’m going to that roadhouse up there. You want anything?’
    Pollo gave a tiny nod, frowning and chewing on her bottom lip.
    Will jogged up to the roadhouse on the edge of town. He crossed the forecourt, dodging the patchesof oil and grit beside the bowsers. The front window was plastered with advertisements and messages. He bought two meat pies and a Chiko Roll from the pallid-skinned girl behind the counter. He was shouldering his way out when a help-wanted note caught his eye. It was fly-spotted, yellowed and curling at the edges.
    Princeville Abattoir.
Immediate start.
No experience necessary.
Monday–Saturday. Apply at office.
    He turned back inside. The girl was now sliding cellophane-wrapped pies into the pie-warmer. He checked her name badge and cleared his throat.
    â€˜Excuse me … err … Ebony.’
    Ebony tucked her hair behind her ears, looked toward the door into the back room and smiled hesitantly. ‘Yes?’
    â€˜That help-wanted sign for the abattoir over there,’ said Will. ‘It looks a bit old. D’you know if it’s still current?’
    Ebony nodded. ‘Uh-huh. It’s not a nice place to work. People leave there all the time. The sign just stays up.’ She looked Will up and down. ‘You’re not planningto ask for a job there, are you?’
    â€˜Me? No … no way. Just wondering,’ said Will.
    â€˜Funny. You’re the second one’s asked about that sign in two days. A guy came in late Thursday and bought two pies, same as you. Then he asked for a pen to write down the name of the place.’
    â€˜Was he wearing his cap to one side, d’you remember?’ said Will. ‘You know, hip-hop style?’
    â€˜Yeah. And a black T-shirt with some band logo on the front — a weird painting of a face all the wrong way round,’ said Ebony. ‘And he kinda danced when he walked. Didn’t seem the type for an abattoir job. But I s’pose people got to earn a livin’. And it’s not like most of us don’t like a bit of lamb when it’s cooked up and served on a plate.’
    At that moment, a beefy woman wearing a greasy apron came through the fly-strips from the back of the shop. She shot Will a dirty look.
    â€˜That’s me mum. Gotta get back to work,’ said Ebony.
    â€˜Thanks heaps, Ebony,’ said Will. You’ve got a great memory!’
    â€˜Aw, I dunno about that. Hey, drop by again sometime, eh? Anytime. I’ll be here.’
    Will jogged back to Pollo, handed her a pie andtold her, between hot mouthfuls, about the sign in the window and what Ebony had told him.
    â€˜Will Hopkins, you amaze me sometimes,’ said Pollo. ‘I couldn’t have done better myself! Right then, let’s go!’
    â€˜Go where?’
    â€˜To Princeville, of course. To the