Chapter 1

      Snip-pets

      ‘Oh no! Serena’s still missing!’ cried Mr. Snip-pets, throwing up his hands. ‘My beautiful one! What will I do if she never comes back?’

      The pet shop was very noise.

      Squawk. Cheep. Miaow.

      Cages, bird swings and stands were crowded along the wall. Puppies played in the window boxes.

      ‘Who’s Serena,’ asked Art.

      As a part-time sleuth he was interested in things going wrong. Solving problems was his business.

      In here, it was difficult to work out who or what was missing. The shelf behind Art was crammed with budgie tonic bottles. On the counter, live mealworms wriggled in plastic boxes. Nearby, goldfish swam in tanks.

      ‘Hello. I’m Coky. Hello, I’m Cocky,’ repeated the white, sulphur-crested cockatoo flapping on its perch. He stretched his wings and showed his sulphur crest.

      India ducked. She didn’t like birds much. Big dogs were different.

      ‘The wedding was over hours ago,’said Mr Snip-pets looking at his watch.

      ‘Did Serena get married?’ asked India politely.

      ‘Was she the bride?’ Art felt in his backpack for his clue pad. Sometimes, he drew clues.

      Mr Snippets held his hands up to his head and tugged his hair. At this rate, he’d be bald by Friday, thought Art. A bald pet shop owner, surrounded by fur, feather and fins. That’d be funny.

      ‘Is Serena your daughter?’ asked India.

      Mr Snip-pets shook his head. ‘Serena is my crested featherfoot fantail pigeon.’

      ‘What was she doing at a wedding?’asked Art.

      ‘Sitting on the bride.’ replied Mr Snip-pets seriously. ‘For a photo.’

      That’s when India got the giggles.

      ‘I didn’t know birds went to weddings.’

      ‘Some do.’ Art thought back to the wedding of his cousin Fran. There’d been chicken at the wedding breakfast. Silly name for a meal, calling it breakfast in the middle of the afternoon. Anyway, chicken as on the menu, so they ate it.

      ‘Chickens go to weddings,’ Art added thoughtfully. ‘What’s the problem?’

      Mr. Snip-pets explained that he had a small bird-hire business.’I release white doves at weddings or other special times.’

      ‘Wouldn’t the birds…you know…drop on people?’ asked India tugging at Tiny’s leash. He was starting to sniff around. And Tiny was so large that he was likely to break or eat something in the crowded shop. Sometimes Tiny was an embarrassment.

      Mr. Snip-pets shook his head. “Birds are dried out for several hours before. They work, then they’re happy to fly home afterwards for their food and water. ‘

      At that moment, the sluphur-crested cockatoo flapped its wings and said ‘Down boy!’ in a loud voice. ‘Sit down.’

      Tiny sat. The he looked around to find the owner of the voice. India and Art laughed loudly. So did Mr. Snip-pets.

      ‘Good old sulphur-crested cockatoo. Serena is trained to sit too…for photos. Brides love having their photos taken with white doves flying around. And Serena can sit on shoulders or hands.’ Mr. Snip-pets looked more cheerful. ‘The birds are a significant blessing. Releasing them is a joyous wish.’

      ‘Do you lose many? ‘ asked Art.

      ‘Not many.’

      ‘Only the ones that can’t read the map,’ joked India. She looked at Art’s face. ‘Sorry.’

      ‘Forget it.’ Art didn’t have any trouble with maps. Maps were like pictures. You worked out the coloured bits or the lines.

      ‘Birds have a type of radar. They fly straight home unless they follow another bird, just for fun.’ Mr. Snip-pets showed them the big aviary. There were about twenty birds inside.

      ‘Is this Serena’s cage?’ Art pointed to a white cage with a white bow of ribbon. The cage was empty.

      Art felt a curl of excitement. Another mystery to solve.

      ‘This