MIRIAM MARJORAMI’S
Miriam had been so worried, she hadn’t slept either. She’d tried all the sleep remedies she knew but nothing would keep her eyes closed for longer than a minute or two. She sat hollow eyed across the low table from a weary Sam as he sat sipping a cup of tea.
“What shall we do, Miri?” he asked forlornly. “I know it’s no good asking any Rasperite. Flouncy Willis...”
“Mr Underpants Willis,” said Miriam scornfully.
“Whatever he is, he’d have arrested me himself last night if he hadn’t been drunk. He walked away and fell over instead.”
“What about the Chief of Police?” asked Miriam. “We could go to the police station and ask him.”
“He won’t help?”
“If you can’t ask the police, who can you ask?”
Miri was right. What else was there? Sam reluctantly agreed. “Alright,” he
