by Adele Abbott
“I’ll do that. Oh, by the way, while I was walking around the village, I bumped into Olga.”
“Was she in her high heels?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I see what you mean about those. She asked if we’d be able to go to their barbecue.”
“And you told her no.”
“Actually, I said we’d love to go.”
“You did what? I thought we’d agreed that we didn’t want to go.”
“That’s not true. I said that I did want to go.”
“But I said I didn’t.”
“That’s why I spoke to Florence earlier and gave her the casting vote. She voted yes.”
“Great.” Outvoted in my own house.
***
I tried skipping from the car park, but I simply couldn’t do it. Every time I tried, I ended up doing a lopsided run, which drew a lot of strange looks. One man even asked if I’d hurt my ankle and needed any assistance.
“Three-hundred and two,” Mrs V said, as soon as I walked through the door.
“Sorry?”
“Three-hundred and two followers on YarnAgram.”
“That’s—err—great.”
“I know. And the cuckoo clock jumper I put up last night has already got one-hundred and sixteen likes.”
“That’s really impressive.”
Yawn and double yawn. I was so very pleased that Mrs V had decided to give me a blow by blow commentary on her YarnAgram account. It was definitely the highlight of my day.
Winky was wearing the blue eye patch, and appeared to be messing around with a watch strapped to one of his front legs.
“Is that a new watch, Winky?”
“It’s not a watch.” He held it up for me to see. “This is a FitCat.”
“A what?”
“You must have heard of them. It tracks how much exercise you do.”
“In your case, that would be none. You just sit around this office all day. The most you ever do is jump from the sofa to this desk, and onto the windowsill.”
“Rubbish!” he scoffed. “You have no idea what I get up to because you’re out of the office for long periods of time. I get plenty of exercise both in here and outside. I often go for long runs.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Just before nine-thirty, Mrs V came through to my office.
“Jill, I’ve got Betty Longbottom out here to see you.”
“Right. Send her through, would you?”
Since I’d last seen her, Betty had gone blonde, and it quite suited her. Just like Rosemond Starr and Georgina Walpole, Betty was power dressing. What was it with all these women? I was beginning to feel left out. Perhaps it was time to refresh my wardrobe. Some chance given the state of our finances. The money Jack’s father had left him in his will had helped us to buy the new house, but we still had hefty bills to pay each month.
“Hi, Betty. Nice to see you again.”
“You too.”
“Mrs V, could you get us some tea, please? Unless you’d prefer coffee, Betty?”
“Tea’s fine for me, thanks.”
While we waited for Mrs V to make the drinks, Betty told me about the terrible ordeal she’d gone through with the marine life centres. How she’d fought to try to keep them in business, but in the end had been forced to admit defeat.
“It was the worst day of my life, Jill. The day I had to close the doors.”
“It must have been terrible for you. What happened to all the fish?”
“Fortunately, I managed to find good homes for all of them. But when the centres closed, my dreams went with them.”
“I really am sorry, Betty. What are you doing now?”
“Luckily, I was able to return to my previous career.”
“In the tax office?”
“That’s right. They’re on a recruitment drive at the moment, so they snapped me up. I’m now a senior tax inspector.”
“That’s great. I really couldn’t be happier for you. Where are you based?”
“Here in Washbridge. In fact, that’s the main reason for my visit today.”
“Oh? I thought you’d popped in to catch up on old times.”
“Obviously that was nice, but I mainly wanted to warn you that you’re due an inspection.”
“Really? It can’t be that long since the last one.”
“It’s actually overdue.”
“Still, it’ll just be a formality, I assume?”
“Let’s hope so, but one can never be sure.”
Talk about outstaying your welcome! Betty was with me for over an hour, and most of that time she spent updating me on the many changes to the tax regime. Not a subject I was particularly interested in. What a nerve! Coming here on the pretence of catching up on old times when all she really wanted to do was to tell me I was due an inspection.
I should have known better. I first met Betty when we lived in the same apartment block. She’d been a little shady even then. There was her kleptomania stage for a start—not exactly the ideal qualification for a tax inspector. The only reason she hadn’t been caught was because I’d saved her bacon.
And this was all the thanks I got for it.
Not long after Betty had left, while I was still busy thinking of different ways I could dispose of her body, Winky jumped onto my desk.
“It looks like you’re in big trouble.” He grinned.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll never survive a tax inspection.”
“Of course I will. Everything I do is above board.”
“Not if some of Luther Stone’s comments are anything to go by. He was always telling you that you were charging things against profits that had nothing to do with the business.”
“Most of that was stuff you’d ordered.”
“I’m not sure blaming the cat will wash with the tax inspectors.”
“It’ll be fine. I have a new accountant now. He can deal with Betty.”
“He’ll need to be good to outsmart that Betty woman. Is he a bit of a dynamo, this new accountant of yours?”
“Err—” I glanced at my watch and realised that I only had a few minutes before Barry’s appointment at Bubbles. “Sorry, I have to go.”
I magicked myself over to Aunt Lucy’s.
“Where’s Barry, Aunt Lucy?”
“Upstairs, I think. Sorry, Jill, I got carried away with my baking. I should have had him ready for you.”
“That’s okay. I’ll go and get him.”
I hurried upstairs and into the spare bedroom, but there was no sign of Barry. Rhymes was sitting in a corner reading a book.
“Do you know where Barry is, Rhymes?”
“Under there.” He pointed at the bed.
I got down on all fours and peered underneath. “Barry, come on out.”
“No! Don’t want a shampoo.”
“Come on, Barry. Your coat is a mess. You need a good wash.”
“Not going. Don’t like it.”
Moments later, Aunt Lucy came into the room.
“Have you found him?”
“He’s under here. Did you tell him about the grooming?”
“Sorry, yes I did.”
“He won’t come out.”
“Let me try.”
She knelt down beside me.
“Come on, Barry. Jill doesn’t have all day.”
“I’m not dirty. Don’t need a shampoo.”
“You’re filthy. Come on.”
I was beginning to lose my patience.
“If you don’t come out, there’ll be no more Barkies for you ever again.”
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“Yes, I do. If you’re not out by the time I’ve counted to three, there’ll be no more Barkies for you. One, two—”
He poked his head out from under the bed. “They won’t get soap in my eyes, will they?”
“No, I’ll tell them to be extra careful.”
“Okay, then.” He crawled out. “Can we go for a walk first?”<
br />
“No, because I have to take you to the human world.” I clipped the lead to his collar and magicked us to Washbridge.
If I’d had my wits about me, I wouldn’t have landed in my office. But I didn’t have my wits about me.
“Barry! No! Come here!”
Luckily, I had a tight hold of his lead because when Barry saw Winky, he tried to rush over to him. Winky took one look at Barry and bolted for the window.
“I want to play with the pussycat.”
“You can’t. We’re already late. Come on.”
As I stepped into the outer office, Mrs V looked thoroughly confused.
“Where did that dog come from, Jill?”
Oh bum! What was I thinking?
“Err, this dog?”
“Yes, the one you’re holding onto.”
“This is Barry.”
“But where did he come from, and who does he belong to?”
I’d got myself into a hopeless predicament, and I wasn’t going to be able to talk my way out of it anytime soon. I had no option but to cast the ‘forget’ spell, and while Mrs V was still a little hazy, I dragged Barry out of the office and down the corridor.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Delilah said.
“I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late. I had a bit of trouble getting Barry here.”
Barry jumped up and put his front paws onto the counter.
“Isn’t he a lovely boy?” She gave him a fuss.
“Delilah, would you ask Farah to be careful not to get any soap in his eyes, please?”
Chapter 4
Just before two-thirty, Mrs V came through to my office.
“Jill, I have a clown out here to see you. He says he has an appointment.”
A. Clown? Andrew Clowne?
“I think you must have got that wrong, Mrs V, Andrew Clowne is in prison. I was expecting Don Keigh.”
“I know I’m getting on in years, Jill, but I still know the difference between a clown and a donkey, and I can assure you that I have a clown out here.”
“No, you misunderstood me. I said Don Keigh. Not donkey.”
“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it, it still isn’t a donkey out there. Would you like to see the clown or not?”
“Err, yeah, send him through, would you?”
The clown who walked through the door could have been anyone underneath that stupid wig and makeup. It was only when he spoke that I was sure it was Don Keigh.
“Thanks for seeing me at such short notice, Jill.” He offered his hand.
“Ouch!” As I shook it, I received a small electric shock.
“I’m so sorry. I thought I’d switched that off.”
“That’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to turn up in your clown’s outfit.”
“I didn’t really have a choice. When I’ve done here, I have to go straight to a kid’s birthday party, which was booked a while ago. There won’t be time to get changed.”
“So, what brings you here today, Don?”
“Something awful has happened, I’m afraid. We hold a meeting of the NOCA committee every month. During the last two meetings, one of the committee members has died.”
“Died how?”
“Heart attacks. If this continues, there’ll be no one left on the committee.”
“That’s terrible, but if they died of a heart attack, I’m not really sure why you came to see me.”
“I don’t believe that it was a heart attack. I think there was foul play of some kind.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The day after the second death, I received an envelope in the post. The only thing inside it was these Scrabble tiles.” He took an envelope out of his pocket and tipped the tiles onto my desk. Most of them had a white background, but some had been coloured red.
“Did the envelope come in the regular post?”
“No, someone had pushed it through my letterbox.”
“Do you have any idea what the Scrabble tiles are supposed to mean?”
“Only that if you use only the red ones, they spell the word: R-E-V-E-N-G-E.”
“Revenge? What do the police have to say about the tiles?”
“Nothing much. The coroner’s verdict in both cases was a heart attack, so the police pretty much dismissed the tiles as someone’s idea of a sick joke. I don’t buy that. It’s obvious to me that someone is targeting NOCA members. Someone with a grudge.”
“I’d have suggested Andrew Clowne if he wasn’t in prison.”
“He isn’t.”
“Has he been released already?”
“No, he’s dead. He died of natural causes during the second year of his sentence.”
“I guess that rules him out. Is there anyone else you can think of who might have an axe to grind with NOCA?”
“No one. That’s why I came to see you. This has got me really shaken, Jill. Will you take the case?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent.” He checked the clown watch on his wrist. “Sorry, but I have to get going or I’ll be late for the birthday party. Could you come and see me at Chuckle House tomorrow? I can introduce you to my second-in-command and answer any questions you may have.”
“Okay, but I’m busy tomorrow morning. How about tomorrow afternoon?”
“That will be fine.”
“Do you think I could hold onto the Scrabble tiles, Don?”
“Sure. I’ll be glad to see the back of them.”
***
No sooner had Don Keigh left than Winky came scrambling back through the window.
“Have you got rid of that stupid dog?” He glanced around.
“Don’t call Barry stupid.” Only I’m allowed to do that. “He’s being shampooed at Bubbles.”
“Why did you bring him in here? If I hadn’t scarpered when I did, he would have torn me limb from limb.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. He just wanted to play with you.”
“I could report you for animal cruelty.”
“Give it a rest, Winky. You weren’t really scared of Barry. You’re just putting it on.”
“If I need therapy after this, I’m going to send you the bill.”
Mrs V popped her head around the door.
“Jill, while you were with that clown, the young lady from Bubbles came to see you. She said that your dog was ready for collection.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
“You haven’t forgotten that you promised you’d let me meet your little Chihuahua, have you?”
“Of course not, and I will, but there isn’t time today because I have an appointment with Phil Black’s grandmother. I’ll bring him in to show you next week.”
“Oh, okay then.” She was clearly disappointed. “You won’t forget, will you?”
“Of course I won’t.”
I hurried down the corridor to Bubbles where Delilah was behind the desk.
“Hi, Jill. I’ll just go and get Barry for you.” She returned a few minutes later with a spotlessly clean Barry.
“They didn’t get any soap in my eyes, Jill,” he said.
“I told you they wouldn’t.”
“I want to come here every time.”
“We’ll see.”
It was only then that I noticed Delilah’s puzzled look. She was clearly wondering why I was having what appeared to be a one-sided conversation with a dog.
“Err, tell Farah she did a great job, would you, Delilah? I’ll definitely bring him back the next time he needs a shampoo.”
“Would you like me to make the appointment now?”
“Err, no, that’s okay. I’ll pop in nearer the time.”
Delilah led him around the counter and handed me his lead. “See you soon, Barry.”
Out in the corridor, I was just about to magic Barry and myself to Candlefield when Mrs V stepped out of the office.
Oh bum!
“Jill?” She looked at me, then at Barry. “I thought you said you had
a Chihuahua?”
“Err, yes I do.”
“Who’s this big guy? Who does he belong to?”
In the absence of any credible explanation, I was forced to cast the ‘forget’ spell on Mrs V for the second time that day. While she was still out of it, I magicked myself and Barry to Aunt Lucy’s house.
“He looks much better.” Aunt Lucy made a big fuss of him.
“I like Bubbles,” Barry said. “They didn’t get any soap in my eyes.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m hungry.” He licked his lips. “Is it time for dinner?”
“It is. In fact, we’re running a little late.”
“I’m going to leave you to it, Aunt Lucy,” I said. “There’s somewhere I need to be.”
“Okay, Jill. Thanks very much for taking him.”
***
After magicking myself back to the car park in Washbridge, I drove to Phil Black’s grandmother’s house. He’d told me that his grandmother, Edie, was the only one who had stood by him after his conviction. He’d also warned me that she wasn’t in the best of health. When she answered the door, she was walking with the aid of a metal frame, and she looked very frail.
“You must be Jill,” she said in a weak voice.
“That’s right. Edie, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Come through to the kitchen.” She led the way very slowly through the house to the small kitchen, which overlooked the back garden. The room, which looked like it probably hadn’t changed since the seventies, was spotlessly clean. “Have a seat, Jill. I was just about to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
“Yes, please, but why don’t you let me make it?”
“I wouldn’t hear of it. I may not be as sprightly as I used to be, but I can still make a cup of tea.”
She handed me the drink, then hobbled over to the cupboard, and brought out a biscuit barrel. “I’m afraid I only have one type of biscuit. Custard creams.”
Clearly a woman of taste.
“Thanks very much. I’ll just have the one.”
“One’s no good to anyone. Take at least two.”
“Okay, if you insist.”
She parked her frame and joined me at the table. “I really appreciate you trying to help Phil. The way he’s been treated by the justice system and even by his family is appalling. I’m ashamed of the way my daughter has abandoned her own son like this. I assume Phil told you that I’ll be paying your bill?”
