Read Online Novel - Half Moon Investigations by Eoin Colfer - Free Book Online

like Red,” she said in a quiet voice. “I don’t think it’s fair, blaming everything on him.”
    May’s face was flushed, and she toyed nervously with her hair. My detective’s intuition hit me in the gut like a wrecking ball.
    “You told Red he was a suspect.”
    May nodded. “He’s on his way over. I just texted him a warning, because he’s nice. I didn’t think he’d come over.”
    I thought back to my years studying for the Bob Bernstein badge. The recommended course of action in all situations was to avoid confrontation. Avoiding confrontation was an excellent way to keep your blood in your veins and your bones in one piece.
    “Thanks, May,” I said, being sarcastic, obviously. “You’ve been a real help.”
    May smiled guiltily. “Sorry, Fletcher. You’re nice, but so is Red. Pity you’re on different sides.”
    “I hate to spoil the fun,” I said, pocketing my notebook, “but I have some incident reports to chart.”
    April pointed over my shoulder. “Too late.”
    I turned toward the playing field. One lanky redhead was heading at speed directly for us.
    I felt my throat go dry. “He was playing hurling,” I said, my throat clicking as I talked. “How fortunate.”
    “I didn’t know that,” said May. “Honestly.”
    Hurling is the Irish sporting version of pitched battle. The hurl, or bat, resembles an executioner’s ax without the blade, and serves roughly the same purpose.
    May came out from behind the table. “Don’t worry, Fletcher. Red won’t do anything. He’s nice, really, once you get past the mental bit.”
    I was not comforted.
    Red skidded to a halt before us, kicking up an arc of gravel. He wore faded jeans, and his T-shirt was tucked into his back pocket. He was tall and rangy, bony and muscular. Red’s features were sharp enough to cut logs, and his eyes darted like a hawk’s, taking in the situation. In one hand he held a chipped and banded hurl. In the other a cell phone.
    Les Jeunes Etudiantes were suddenly transformed into Southern belles, half flustered, half delighted. Red had a powerful effect on girls; they either loved him or loathed him. Often both on the same day. I don’t know how he did it. A mysterious combination of cockiness and charisma. You couldn’t say that Red was handsome, exactly. But whatever he had was better than handsome, because it would last forever.
    “I just got a text, Half Moon,” panted Red, ignoring the girls completely.
    I pulled in my elbows and dropped my gaze. This was the nonaggressive stance wildlife experts recommended adopting when confronted by a gorilla.
    “May says you’re investigating me. Is that right, Half Moon?”
    I could safely answer that one. “Not exactly. You are one of my suspects. Everyone is a suspect until I can clear them.”
    Red shrugged on his T-shirt. The garment was emblazoned with the slogan I Fought the Law . Even his T-shirt was against me.
    “A suspect for what? What am I supposed to have done?”
    “Maybe nothing,” I admitted. “But a lock of hair has been appropriated. Pop-star hair, to be precise.”
    Red twirled his hurl expertly. It was a vicious length of oak, reinforced at the oval end by a steel band. Red had embossed his name on the band using roundheaded tacks.
    “Appropriated? Precise? What kind of freak are you?” Red leveled the hurl at me. “Listen, Half Moon. I have a hard enough time with teachers and shopkeepers and the police, without head cases like you starting rumors about me.”
    Naturally I wasn’t happy about being called a freak in front of a line of pretty girls. But at least I wasn’t a bleeding freak. Not yet.
    “Breathe deeply, Red,” I said, raising my palms to show I wasn’t armed. A tip from the Bob Bernstein manual. “By tomorrow you could be off my list for the hair, at least.”
    Red moved so fast then that I only saw the first bit and the last bit. In the first bit, I was standing with my palms raised and Red was three feet away. In the last