by Morgana Best
“I’m writing a book and I thought you might be able to help me with my research.” He was still blocking Mr Buttons’ way.
“I can’t help you.” With that, Mr Buttons pushed past Adrian and headed for the door. I ran after him. “Mr Buttons,” I said, touching his arm. “Are you all right?”
“I think I’m coming down with something, Sibyl. I have to get home. You’ll go home with Blake?”
“Sure. Are you certain you’re all right?”
Mr Buttons gave a short nod and hurried out the door.
I walked back to Blake. “What do you think that was about?”
Blake shrugged. “I overheard the whole exchange. It seems clear that Adrian knows something about Mr Buttons that Mr Buttons doesn’t want anyone else to know.” I chewed my lip, but Blake continued. “Whatever it is, Sibyl, it’s none of our business. You mustn’t interfere in the matter.”
“It can’t be anything to do with the murder, surely?”
Blake pulled me to him and kissed my head. “What do I have to do to make you forget about investigating? Sibyl, a man was murdered at the boarding house, only metres from where you live. Surely that should make you cautious.”
“Oh, it does,” I said in the most convincing tone I could muster. Blake continued his lecture, while my mind wandered. I would have to investigate Adrian Addison. I would start tomorrow.
Blake pulled me to him tightly. “How about we escape this place?”
I smiled widely. “Sure!”
Right on cue, Blake’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and answered it at once. “Sergeant Wesley.” He listened for a while, and then said, “I’ll be right there.”
“Emergency?” I asked him.
He smiled ruefully. “I’ve got to go. Sibyl, can Cressida take you home? I have to head in the opposite direction.”
“That’s fine.”
Blake frowned. “I’m so sorry, Sibyl. I’ll make it up to you.” With that, he was gone. I looked after him sadly. I realised I had several hours ahead of me to look at Cressida’s paintings sporting such graphic names as, Unsuccessful Surgical Procedure, Impaled by a White Gum Tree Branch, Shark Attack, Eaten Alive by a Tasmanian Devil, and my favourite, Snakes in a Drain.
Chapter 11
Mr Buttons and I usually walked Sandy every morning, but that morning I had to walk Sandy by myself. That was the first time Mr Buttons had been a no-show. I was glad there had been a light frost, because although I didn’t like the cold, it worried me to walk alone in spring and summer. Two pairs of eyes were better than one to look for snakes along the track through the bush, but it had been too cold for snakes that morning.
After taking a shower and having breakfast, I called Cressida. I didn’t want to call Mr Buttons, in case he was ill and still asleep. “He didn’t come down for breakfast,” Cressida said. “I was concerned that he had been murdered, so I went to his room and knocked on his door. He called out that he had a migraine.”
“That’s not like Mr Buttons,” I said, thinking back on the conversation with Adrian.
“Do you think it’s to do with the conversation you overheard last night?” Cressida asked me.
I nodded, and then realised she couldn’t see me. “Yes,” I said. I had told Cressida all about the conversation on the way home in the car the previous night. “Cressida, do you have any free time today? I really think we should investigate Adrian Addison.”
“Yes, we should,” Cressida said gleefully. “Lord Farringdon says Adrian Addison is a veritable hive of information, and he’s party to secrets.”
I narrowed my eyes. Sometimes I really wondered about that cat.
And so, an hour later, I collected Cressida in my van. “What should we do first?” she asked me.
I fastened my seatbelt. “I think we should find out about his job for a start. Maybe he’s lying about it. I think we should start with the…” I began, but Cressida interrupted me.
“Library,” she pronounced.
I shook my head. “No, well yes, but I thought we should start with the Little Tatterford Council. We can go to the library later, if the council isn’t any help.”
The Little Tatterford Council was only about five minutes away. We easily found a park directly outside, and then walked into the gloomy building. “This is a depressing place,” Cressida said. “It reminds me of silly rules, government red tape, and paying my council rates.”
“I’ll have to think of all that when I buy a house,” I said.
Cressida gripped my arm. “I’ll miss you when you buy a house, Sibyl,” she said with alarm.
“Even if I buy on the other side of Little Tatterford, I won’t be more than fifteen minutes away from you,” I pointed out.
Cressida frowned. “But right now you’re only a one minute walk from me.”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s the problem. I like having you and Mr Buttons so close. Anyway, there’s time to think about it.”
The two of us were behind a woman who was having a dispute with the man sitting behind the counter. “You’ve got the rates for my two properties mixed up,” she said crossly. “I paid them online separately, but you’ve given me a credit for one house and a debit on another. Can’t you ever get anything right?”
The man patiently sorted out the problem, while Cressida and I stood behind the lady. Finally, it was our turn. When the man said, “Can I help you?” I realised that I hadn’t had anything planned to say.
“Um, it’s like this,” I stammered. “We’re looking for the Office of Geographic Names.”
The man leant his head to one side. “I’m sorry. The office of what? What did you say?”
“The Office of Geographic Names,” I repeated. “Where would we find the office? I know they wouldn’t have one in a small town like this, so is the closest one in Sydney?”
He stood up. “I’ll just check for you.”
He left the room, while Cressida thumbed through some pamphlets on the counter. I saw that the top one was what to do in the case of snakebite. I shuddered. He presently returned with an abrupt looking woman. “There is no Office of Geographic Names,” she said quite snappily.
“Yes, there is,” I argued. “I googled it.”
“I was about to say that there isn’t one in New South Wales. The Office of Geographic Names only exists in Victoria. In New South Wales, it’s called the Geographical Names Board of New South Wales. It’s under the Geographical Names Act of 1966, and is the statutory body for the state.”
“One of my boarders, Adrian Addison, says he’s working for the Office of Geographic Names,” Cressida said.
“He must be from Victoria,” the woman barked.
“No, he isn’t,” Cressida continued. “He says he’s here in Little Tatterford, working for the Office of Geographic Names.”
The woman snorted. “He certainly is not. Not unless you misheard the name and he’s working for the Geographical Names Board. Still, there’s no one from the Geographical Names Board in town at the moment, not as far as I know, anyway. Do you know anything about that, Carlton?”
The man shook his head. “No, but I can go and check.” He left the room, with the woman hard on his heels.
I raised my eyebrows and turned to Cressida. “What do you make of that?”
She shrugged. “He’s obviously lying. He seems the most likely murderer to me at this point.”
I wasn’t so sure. “I thought he and Wendy Mason might have been in it together, but whatever she’s up to with those two strange men, I don’t think it’s linked to Adrian.”
When the man returned, he shook his head. “There’s no one in town from the Geographical Names Board. I asked out back, and no one knows a thing, not even the Town Planner.”
We thanked him, and left. “I knew Adrian was lying,” I said to Cressida. “What’s our next move?”
“The library.” Cressida set off at a fast walk in the direction of the library building, which wasn’t far from the council building.
“What do you think we’ll find in the library?” I asked her.
“We’ll google him,” she said.
“We can google him at home,” I pointed out. “Besides, I googled all of them—that was the first thing I did, and I couldn’t find out much about any of them. Do you know how many Adrian Addisons, Wendy Masons, and Dennis Stantons there are on Facebook?”
We had reached the library door, and Cressida held it open for me. “It’s clear to me that Mr Buttons has a secret that he’s hiding from us. Why he’s keeping a secret from us, I cannot say. I suspect Adrian either knows Mr Buttons’ secret or is suspicious about it. At least in the library, Mr Buttons can’t find us searching for information on Adrian.”
“You think Mr Buttons doesn’t want us to investigate Adrian?” I asked her, frowning.
She nodded. “I’m certain of it. I happened to mention investigating Adrian in passing yesterday, and Mr Buttons said he was quite sure he had nothing to do with the murder. He tried to talk me out of investigating him.”
I walked through the door, and at once lowered my voice. The man behind the counter looked at us. There appeared to be no one else in the library, so he was probably pleased to have patrons. When I caught his eye, he looked back down at his newspaper. “Do you think Mr Buttons was a spy, for MI6 or something like that? Perhaps Adrian was a spy too, and he’s letting Mr Buttons know he’s onto him.”
“Mr Buttons, a spy?” Cressida whispered. “Surely not, although nothing about Mr Buttons would surprise me.”
I walked over to the computers, thinking this was an exercise in futility. Cressida and I could easily google anyone on my laptop in my cottage and Mr Buttons would be none the wiser. Still, Cressida had seemed so keen on going to the library, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.
The man walked over to us. He smelt overpoweringly of old cologne and cigarette smoke. “The computers are free,” he said. “Are you members here?”
We both shook our heads. “The computers are free,” he said again. “If you want to borrow a book, you’ll have to join the library and get a library card.”
“Thanks,” I said, and sat at one computer, while Cressida sat at the one next to me.
“Do you want to join the library?” he said, leaning over me and displaying a full set of yellow teeth.
I leant back. “Not right now, thank you. We’ll just use the computers for a little while, if that’s all right.”
“The computers are free,” he said for what seemed to be the umpteenth time.
Thankfully, he left after that, and Cressida and I tapped away in silence for ages. “Try googling A. Addison,” I whispered to Cressida. “Whatever his occupation is, he might be online with his initial only.”
Cressida shook her head. “I already tried that. You were right, Sibyl. This has been a waste of time. We should leave.”
I stood up, but noticed the man coming over to us. I gave him a little wave, took Cressida by the elbow, and walked as fast as I could to the front door. When we were outside, I said, “I’ve had an idea. Let’s take a photo of Adrian and then search similar images online.”
Cressida’s eyebrows shot up. “You can do that?”
I nodded. “In fact, let’s do it for all the suspects. And we can’t discount Dennis Stanton, either. Not all police officers are above board, you know. No one is above suspicion.”
“I know,” Cressida said, “I’ll tell them I’d like to take a photo of each of them for my records. I can pretend I’ll put them in a guestbook, a happy snap for a guestbook.”
“What a good idea,” I said. “I think that’s brilliant. And if one of them is really reluctant, then that would be suspicious. Do you think we should challenge Adrian? Tell him we know he’s not working for the Office of Geographic Names?”
Cressida shook her head. “I don’t think that’s advisable, in case he’s the murderer. He’ll know we’re onto him, but we don’t have any evidence to have him incarcerated, so he’ll be still on the loose and a threat to us. Now let’s go home and cheer up Mr Buttons. Let’s take him into the new pet shop in town.”
I was taken aback. “There’s a new pet shop in town? I had no idea. I didn’t think Little Tatterford was big enough to support a pet shop.”
“It’s a tiny little shop,” Cressida said. “It’s down a side road. The only other shop near it is that little second-hand shop that’s hardly ever open.”
“I’m sure it won’t make much money if it’s not on the highway,” I said.
Cressida shrugged. “I’ve never been in there. I just saw some nice big dog collars and leads and I thought you might like to have a look in there for Sandy. And you know how attached Mr Buttons is to that dog—I thought that might cheer him up.”
I wondered if Cressida was mistaken. They sold dog collars and leashes down at the little town supermarket, and the local hardware store sold dog food, so I found it hard to believe that there was a pet store in town. Still, stranger things had happened in Little Tatterford.
Chapter 12
When we got back to the boarding house, Mr Buttons was sitting on the front steps, looking most forlorn. “All the suspects are out at the moment,” he said. “The French chef who is not French is in the kitchen, however. I wanted to snoop through the sheds out the back, but I thought he might see me. If he is the murderer, that would put me in danger, so I’ve been sitting here hoping he’d leave.”
Cressida reached out a hand to him. “Come with us, Mr Buttons. There’s a new shop in town, and we’re taking you there to cheer you up.”
Mr Buttons immediately looked concerned. “What sort of shop is it?”
Cressida beamed at him. “It’s a pet shop.”
Mr Buttons scratched his chin. “A pet shop? Surely Little Tatterford isn’t big enough to support a pet shop? After all, you can readily buy pet supplies from other stores in town.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what I said. Anyway, let’s have a look. It can’t hurt, and we can discuss suspects on the way.”
To my relief, Mr Buttons readily agreed. He certainly seemed upset by the previous night’s conversation with Adrian, so I hoped the pet shop would indeed brighten his mood.
I had trouble finding a parking spot for the van directly in the vicinity of the pet shop, so I parked down the road a little way. “It’s a remote street for a shop, isn’t it?” Mr Buttons said.
“Maybe they’ll go out of business soon, and we can pick up some bargains,” Cressida said hopefully.
When we arrived at the pet shop, we stood outside. “What a relief, it’s open.” Cressida pointed to the large Open sign hanging on the door, and then looked in the window. “Oh, they seem to be only catering for big dogs. Look at those huge collars. I suppose Great Danes and Pig Dogs would be the only dogs big enough to wear those collars.” She leant closer to the window. “Oh no, I was wrong. Hmm, I’ve never heard of one of those dog breeds before.”
“What dog breed is that?” I asked her.
She pointed to the label. “It says Fetish Collar. I wonder if a Fetish is one of those new designer dog breeds? Or perhaps related to the Finnish Spitz?”
I did a double take. I looked in the window at what Cressida thought were dog collars, and then the light dawned on me. “Um, Cressida,” I began carefully, “this isn’t a pet shop.”
I shot a look at Mr Buttons, but he had turned a ghastly shade of puce green.
“Let’s go in,” Cressida said.
Mr Buttons held up both hands in protest. “I’m not going in there!”
Cressida was clearly most put out. She grabbed Mr Buttons by his elbow. “Mr Buttons, I’m not taking no for an answer.” She all but pulled him into the shop. I could do nothing but follow them in.
“I haven’t seen a pet shop like this before,” Cressida said to Mr Buttons. “I’m going to buy you a gift from here to cheer you up.”
Mr Buttons’ jaw moved up and down, but he said nothing.
The man behind the counte
r smiled at her. “You’re my first customers for the day. I heard you say you’re looking for something for your pet?” he asked Cressida.
“I was interested in your collars,” she said, “but I don’t have a pet. Sibyl has a pet, and she shares her with Mr Buttons here.”
The man looked surprised. “You don’t say! And to think people told me that Little Tatterford was too close-minded for that sort of thing. They told me this town was too full of farmers, but you’ve just proven me wrong. That’s good to hear. I didn’t think there would be many pets in this town.”
It was Cressida’s turn to look surprised. “Oh no, many people in Little Tatterford have pets. Sibyl even charges to bathe the pets in town.”
“You’re kidding!” The man looked me up and down. “This is only a sideline, truth be told. I also fix tractors out back. I had no idea that this little town was a hotbed for such goings-on. Well, it suits me fine. It’ll be great for business.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully.
Mr Buttons and I clutched each other in horror. “Come on, Mr Buttons,” Cressida said encouragingly. “Pick something you’d like for a gift.”
“Is it your birthday?” the man asked him.
Mr Buttons shook his head. I don’t think he trusted himself to speak.
“Would you like a collar for Sandy?” Cressida asked him.
Mr Buttons whimpered.
“Is Sandy your pet?” the store owner asked Mr Buttons.
Cressida answered for him. “She is really Sibyl’s pet, but like I said, Sibyl shares her with Mr Buttons.”
I thought Mr Buttons might pass out. Thankfully, Cressida fell silent for a moment as her attention was drawn to various items of underwear. They had a large sign, Australiana, emblazoned on the wall above them. “Oh how delightful,” Cressida gushed. She pointed to a pair of men’s underpants. Unlike the other exceptionally brief items of underwear in the shop, these were quite large, and featured a large furry koala on the front.
Cressida turned to the store owner. “Mr Buttons is English,” she said, “and you know how the English just love anything that’s Australian. I think I’ll buy these for him. Would you like them, Mr Buttons?”
