The Mind Reading Chook Read online

  Sleuth Astrid, the Mind-Reading Chook

  Written by Hazel Edwards.

  www.hazeldedwards.com

  Illustrated and designed by Jane Connory.

  ww.janeconnory.com

  Sleuth Astrid is a hi-tech chook, who rides a Harley , plays e-games and finds lost things.The Magician has lost his sense of humour. Astrid must find that before the 3pm show. Luckily, Astrid is also a mind-reading chook.

  Hidden in each chapter is a clue that will help solve Astrid’s mystery. Snoop around each illustration to find a hidden letter, unscramble a word and help Astrid uncover the secret to the magician’s missing sense of humour.

  Originally print published by Macmillan Education Australia.

  Also in the Sleuth Astrid series, by Hazel Edwards

  Copyright © Hazel Edwards and Jane Connory, 2013.

  Written By Hazel Edwards.

  www.hazeledwards.com

  Illustration and design by Jane Connory.

  www.janeconnory.com

  978-0-9871575-0-8 Sleuth Astrid the Mind-Reading Chook

  Originally published by Macmillan Education, rights reverted to Hazel Edwards

  All electronic rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  Teacher resources and activities available -

  http://www.hazeledwards.com/shop/item/sleuth-astrid-the-mind-reading-chook

  Chapter Contents

  Chapter 1 Hi-tech Hen

  Chapter 2 The Performance

  Chapter 3 Eggs-actly Right

  Chapter 4 Clues

  Chapter 5 Smelly Chook Chase

  Chapter 6 Sniffing Around

  Chapter 7 The Forget-ory

  Chapter 8 The Smell of Success

  Chapter 1

  Hi-tech Hen

  My name is Astrid. I’m a mind-reading chook.

  Chickens are ordinary. But I’m special. Ever since that accident in the Lab, I’ve been able to read minds.

  I work part-time with Merlin, the magician. I’m the mind-reading chook in Merlin’s magic act.

  On stage, Merlin plays cards. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. In my hand I have a pack of cards. Over there, is Astrid, the Mind-reading Chook.’

  I bow. That’s hard with a mobile under one wing.

  They clap. Merlin invites some kid on stage. ‘I’d like that boy in the front row to come out. Yes, you. Come and pick a card from this pack.’

  Merlin shuffles the cards. The boy watches. Merlin holds out the cards. The boy chooses one.

  Merlin smiles. He holds the card up high. ‘Astrid will tell us the card.’

  Merlin waves his cloak around. Then he twirls his stick. ‘Astrid, is it a red card?’

  ‘Yes’ is one peck on the microphone. ‘No’ is two pecks. I peck once. ‘Chook, chook, chook ,’ I say.

  ‘Astrid is right. It is a red card,’ says Merlin. The audience clap.

  ‘Astrid, is it a picture card?’

  Again, I’m supposed to peck once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’. It’s a red King of Hearts. I’m supposed to peck the right card.

  That’s easy for me. I’m the star.

  I also work as an actor. And I like solving mysteries. I look for clues. And I keep my eyes to the ground. I notice things. And most people don’t notice a chook who’s just pecking around.

  RING. RING. RING.

  ‘Hullo, Astrid here.’ I pull my mobile out from under my wing.

  I like being a hi-tech hen. I can peck very fast on my tablet. Online, I’m part of Chooks Anonymous.

  ‘Astrid, it’s Ben. I’ve got a job for you.’ Ben is my agent. He gets extra work for me. ‘It’s a TV commercial. They want you to act as a chicken,’ says Ben. ‘That should be easy.’

  ‘Very easy,’ I say. Too easy I think. So I get suspicious. ‘Who’s it for?’ I ask.

  ‘The Hot Chicken Shop,’ says Ben.

  ‘No way!’ I reply.

  I don’t even like going near that shop. It’s no mystery what happened to my Aunty Rhoda in there. She became a Special Sandwich with lettuce, mustard and pickles. And my uncle is now a duster at the Feather Bed Shop. So I won’t act in bed-shop commercials either.

  Ben says quickly, ‘Okay I’ve got something else. A job for a mystery solver, Astrid.’

  ‘Okay. What is it?’

  ‘It’s Merlin,’ says Ben. ‘He’s lost something he needs for his three o’clock show.’

  ‘Flopsy?’ I ask hopefully. Flopsy is Merlin’s white rabbit. She has long ears and a bad temper. She wants to be a star too.

  ‘Not Flopsy,’ says Ben.

  ‘Is it a contact lens again?’ I ask. Merlin used the wear glasses. Then he bought contact lenses. You know those little things which go in your eyes. Now he even loses them!

  ‘No, this time, Merlin’s lost his sense of humour,’ says Ben. ‘He can’t laugh or smile anymore. Nothing is funny for him.’

  ‘When did he lose it?’ I ask.

  ‘Before he got up this morning,’ says Ben.

  ‘Does he know where he lost it?’ I say.

  ‘No. That’s why you’ve got the job of finding it.’

  ‘What about my fee?’

  ‘D’you want the usual?’ asks Ben.

  ‘Yes please.’ I say. Since I’m a hi-tech chook with a tablet, Ben pays me in new e-games like Leghorn, Eggs Galore or Find the Egg.

  ‘It must be found before the afternoon performance,’ repeats Ben.

  This is a perfect job for Astrid, the mind-reading chook

  Chapter 2

  The Performance

  Merlin is thinking aloud.

  ‘Nothing is funny. Nothing is fun. I just feel grumpy all the time,’ says Merlin. He swishes around his magic wand.

  It snaps!

  ‘Oh no,’ wails Merlin. ‘See? Everything is breaking down or getting lost. Last night I forgot which carpark I left my car in, so I caught the train home.’

  I looked into Merlin’s mind for clues. His memory is a bit murky. I see toothpaste, breakfast muffins and a dark hole. This must be where he forgets things.

  Merlin tries to superglue his broken wand. His fingers are stuck to the wand now.

  At least he won’t be able to lose that!

  ‘Go and find the car first, ‘orders Flopsy.’ I don’t want to walk to work.’

  I wonder if Flopsy has anything to do with Merlin’s missing sense of humour?

  I try all my contacts. I peck around a bit. I find Merlin’s car. It’s a bit hard to miss a van with MERLIN THE MARVELLOUS written on the side. Especially when it’s the only vehicle left in the carpark.

  I hit the buttons on my mobile. Merlin is still stuck at home.

  ‘Thanks for finding the car,’ says Merlin grumpily. ‘But I don’t feel like laughing.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll find your sense of humour next.’ I say.

  Merlin used to smile. He used to laugh. And he played jokes. Where did he laugh for the last time? On the train last night? Is that where he might have lost it?

  I visit the railway Lost Property Office. Umbrellas, shoes and sports gear fill the room. But no clues to a l
ost sense of humour.

  So then I check the henhouse. It’s the gossip centre of the yard. The hens know everything.

  ‘Have you heard anything funny?’ I ask the hens.

  ‘We might have. Cluck! Cluck! Cluck!’

  ‘Merlin’s lost his sense of humour,’ I explain. ‘He needs it for his show this afternoon. I must find it before three o’clock.’

  ‘So you’re the hard-boiled detective?’ says Rooster loudly.

  He makes the same joke every time we meet. It isn’t funny.

  ‘Rooster fell off the henhouse roof yesterday morning. Merlin was here and he laughed. So he still had it then,’ says Inspector Clues, the French chick. ‘Would you like some help with this case?’

  I shake my beak. ‘Not yet, thanks.’ Unless it’s a French mystery, where you have to speak French, I think I’m better at the job.

  Yesterday’s laugh was a clue. But that was yesterday, not today.

  Rooster thinks he’s top of the pecking order. His job is to look after his hens.

  ‘Heard any laughs around here?’ I ask him very politely. ‘Any giggles? Or even some smiles?’

  ‘Why? Is laughing a crime?’ Rooster says. Then he laughs at his own joke. But he doesn’t look where he is going. He trips and falls into the water bowl, beak first.

  I try not to laugh. The hens giggle. Then they laugh aloud. Rooster shakes himself and stalks away. Drops of water fall on the ground from his dripping beak. In his mind, I can picture fireworks. He is very angry.

  I sigh. What happened to Merlin’s sense of humour? Where could it be?

  Chapter 3

  Eggs-actly Right

  In between jobs, I stay in the bird yard. It’s a great place! All kinds of birds rent a space. Ducks. Geese. Even a swan who teaches ballet.

  The bird yard is beside the community gardens in the park. I have my own loft where I keep my gear. There’s a space for my bike and the sidecar. And I can scratch around in the garden too.

  When I get home, I turn on my tablet. I tap my keyboard. Not everybody talks Chook. So a tablet screen is useful for a hi-tech chook like me.

  I try Chooks Anonymous. You can leave a question. Other people read it, and they leave answers if they’ve got any.

  I write: ‘Lost sense of humour belonging to Merlin. Please contact Astrid the Mind-reading Chook’ I type in my link. I hope someone leaves me a clue before three o clock.

  I peck in a few messages. You’ve heard of e-mail. Well, I use c(hook) mail.

  Then I play a few games. Later I check for Chooks Anonymous messages online. A few answers come up on screen. Oh no! They are recipes for cooking chicken! I typed Cook instead of Chook. How embarrassing.

  Chapter 4

  Clues

  My mobile rings. I lift my wing.

  ‘Hi. This is Astrid.’

  ‘Are you the chook looking for a laugh?’ The voice is scratchy, I don’t like the sound of it.

  ‘I’m Astrid the part-time sleuth. My client has lost his sense of humour. Have you heard a lost laugh?’

  ‘Yes,’ says the voice. ‘Last night.’

  ‘How do you know it belongs to Merlin?’ I ask.

  ‘Because he was here earlier,’ says the voice. ‘Last night.’

  ‘Where was Merlin?’ I ask the voice again.

  ‘At the shopping centre.’

  ‘Which shopping centre?’ I ask.

  ‘The one where I work.’

  ‘Which one is that?’ There must be a million shopping centres in our area. Even a mind-reader can’t always get it right.

  ‘I’m a security guard at the Central car park. I patrol with my dog,’ says the voice.

  I’m not keen on meeting his dog. Neither are my remaining tail feathers. Since Merlin ‘magic-ed’ my best running shoes and lost them, I’ve had bare feet. Not good for a fast getaway.

  ‘Meet me outside the Hot Chicken Shop in ten minutes and I’ll show you where I saw Merlin.’ He gives the map reference number. He hangs up before I can change the meeting place. ‘Not there!’ I mutter.

  The Hot Chicken Shop gives me the shivers. It was the last place I saw Aunty Rhoda. But the Central carpark is where I found Merlin’s van. Maybe I’m getting closer to solving the mystery.

  I ride my bike so I won’t be late. The mobile clips on the handlebar. My comb-ring swings in the breeze. My number plate is EGGS-PERT. I like the egg theme.

  At Central, I park underground. The carpark is so big. No wonder Merlin has forgotten where he left his van last night.

  I case the joint. That means I have a look around the Hot Chicken Shop. I sniff around. The bins out the back have bones in them. And cardboardy boxes with grease spots. Ex-meals. Ex-chicken. My relatives!

  I peck around. I see the black shoes first. Size 14 feet. I look up. Legs like tree trunks. The security guard wears a uniform. His dog is large.

  ‘Woof, woof, woof.’ Luckily the dog is on a leash.

  Quickly I flash my I.D. CARD Then I show a ‘mug shot’ of Merlin. ‘Have you seen this man laugh before?’

  ‘That’s Merlin, isn’t it?’ says the security guard. ‘He was in the mall yesterday afternoon. Next to the perfume stand.’

  I look into his mind. There’s a Merlin shape. He does know Merlin.

  ‘So what sort of chook are you?’ asks the security guard.

  ‘I’m an English Sussex. See. I’m white with a black collar.’

  ‘Rufus has a collar.’

  I’m glad about that. Rufus is pulling on the leash. He’s pulling away from the security guard and towards me. I’m NOT glad about that.

  Rufus takes a lunge forward. I move, FAST!

  Chapter 5

  Smelly Chook Chase

  Every detective story has a chase. And this is mine.

  I squawk and run! Rufus follows me. I feel his hot breath behind me. My tail feathers quiver.

  The long passageway of the mall is ahead. It’s crowded with traders’ stalls. I pant. I need my runners. Rufus is gaining. ‘Woof, woof, woof.’ That dog can bark and run at the same time!

  I jump a bucket of roses and my wing touches a thorn. ‘Ow!’ I nearly lose my mobile.

  Rufus hits a pile of cans and they roll everywhere. I sniff and keep fluttering. One stall has after-shave, perfume and powder. I read the labels as I fly past.

  Remember, Stop! and Forget.

  A girl squirts perfume samples for customers. I sniff, but it’s too dangerous to stay. I don’t want to be part of a guard dog’s snack attack.

  I run under the perfume stand. Barking, Rufus follows me. He crashes into a leg of the stand. It falls over. Bottles fall over.

  The perfume girl squirts me, ‘This perfume is Remember,’ she calls as I fly past. ‘Yesterday, our special was the after-shave ‘Forget’.

  Remember tickles my beak. It curls into my memory. Squawking, I keep running. My beak smells wonderful.

  Rufus is still right behind. How can I make him stop? Then I remember. Stop!

  I do a sharp turn, duck under a low table and run back the way I came. My wings flutter, helping me to balance.

  The perfume girl is still there. I re-read the labels, super-fast.

  ‘Stop!’ she cries.

  I nod. I grab the spray. Rufus is coming, fast. I squirt in the air. A cloud of after-shave floats over Rufus.

  Will it work or not?

  Then Rufus stretches out and lies down.

  ‘Sit,’ I say in my best dog-obedience –class voice.

  ‘Give me back my after-shave,’ shouts the girl. ‘That’s the new Stop! special.’

  I give it back to her. Not only have I stopped Rufus, I have also found a clue to Merlin’s lost sense of humour.

  ‘Why did you call me about Merlin?’ I ask the security guard.

 
Rufus is on the leash again. Perhaps it’s like aromatherapy for guard dogs? He looks happy. He likes the smell.

  The security guard replies, ‘I saw Merlin last night. He was working on the centre stage. So was the perfume girl. The crowd loved the doves. But the perfume girl kept spraying. The doves weren’t too keen on that.’

  The guard pats Rufus.

  ‘Which perfume was it?’ I ask.

  ‘Forget,’ says the security guard.

  That stops me for a moment. Can’t he remember? Then I get it. ‘Oh! That’s the name of the perfume, Forget!’ I say. ‘The one the girl was spraying?’

  ‘Yes,’ the security guard nods.’ She just kept spraying it into the air. The rabbit in the hat started coughing.’

  ‘Flopsy,’ I mutter. That rabbit is always making a fuss.

  ‘Merlin was there for two shows, so he was sprayed a lot,’ says the security guard.

  ‘Do you remember if he joked or laughed a lot during his act?’ I ask.

  The guard nods. ‘He smiled and laughed at the beginning of the first show. But by the end he was grumpy. And the rabbit was really cross. Kids were starting to leave early.’

  I started to put the clues together. The perfume was called Forget. What if the spray went wrong? When I was in the Lab, those rays went wrong. Stop! worked with Rufus. What if the perfume affected Merlin in some way? Perhaps Merlin ‘forgets’ to find things funny when he’s been sprayed. Perhaps that’s how he lost his sense of humour?

  ‘Thanks for your help,’ I say to the security guard. I leave quickly and ride home. I can feel an egg coming on. Eggs are my ideas. I’m careful about where I leave them.

  At home, I check for messages. Chooks Anonymous is quiet. Only one email about Rent-a-Nest. I feel a bit uncomfortable.

  Then an egg arrives.

  Eggs-actly on time!