by Adele Abbott
“Would you like some company?”
“Not right now. I have to get back to Washbridge soon.”
“Oh. Okay. What about later in the week? I could come to Washbridge.”
“I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment. Sorry.”
“Oh.” I could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Okay then. Give me a call when things slow down.”
“Sure. Bye then.”
I hoped that might be the end of it, but something told me that Drake wasn’t the type to give up so easily.
“Barry! Barry! Where are you?”
A couple: a witch and a werewolf were walking towards me. Their well behaved Westie was following a few yards behind them. Why didn’t Barry do that?
“Hi, sorry to trouble you. Have you by any chance seen a black and white Labradoodle anywhere? I seem to have lost him.”
The woman smiled. “He’s more black than black and white now.” She pointed off into the distance. “See those trees, close to the wall?”
It was a part of the park I’d never been in before.
“He’s down there. In the swamp.”
“The swamp?”
“It’s not really a swamp. That’s just what the locals call it. It’s a shallow pond really. It’s mighty muddy down there.” She looked at my trainers, and gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Barry! No! Don’t!”
Too late. He jumped up and planted his muddy paws onto my clean, white t-shirt.
“Don’t!”
Too late again. He shook himself from head to tail, covering me in water, mud and goodness knows what else.
Fantastic!
It wasn’t just that he was wet and dirty. He smelled—real bad. Something must have fallen into the ‘swamp’ and died. There was no way I could take him home like that.
“That was fun!” he shouted, as I put on his lead. “Can I do it again?”
***
The dog groomers, Woof Wash, were only a stone’s throw from the park. From outside, I managed to catch the eye of the woman behind the counter, and beckoned her to come out.
“Looks like he’s been in the swamp,” she said, when she saw Barry.
“How did you know?”
“We get a lot of our business that way.”
“Is there any chance you could fit him in?”
“Yeah, no problem. We only have a couple of dogs booked in this morning. I’ll probably need to give him a trim as well as a wash. Is that okay?”
“Sure. What time can I collect him?”
“He should be ready about one o’clock.” She took his lead. “Are you sure you don’t want to book yourself in too?”
I somehow managed to force a smile.
“What happened to you?” Pearl said.
“Barry and the swamp happened to me.”
“You shouldn’t have let him go in the swamp.”
“Thanks for the tip. Where’s Amber? Rolling dung around?”
“What?”
“Never mind. What happened when Grandma woke up?”
“Nothing. It’s weird. When she came into the kitchen, she’d already wiped her face clean. She didn’t say a word about it.”
“That’s scary.”
“She must know it was us,” Pearl said.
“Us? Hey, there’s no ‘us’ about it. I wasn’t the one who put the cake on the armrest.”
“Maybe she’ll let it go.”
And maybe I’ll win the lottery. “I’m going to get showered and changed.”
“Good idea. You do kind of reek.” Pearl pinched her nose.
After my shower, I felt much better. The clothes I’d taken off were beyond salvation, so I dumped them in the bin. I was still thinking about the conversation I’d had with Drake. He’d sounded disappointed and a little surprised. But then, so had I when Daze had told me about his past. Perhaps if he’d come clean right from the start, things would have been different.
With time to kill until I picked up Barry from the groomers, I volunteered to help out in Cuppy C. The twins were remarkably chipper, and both still had the giggles over the previous night’s events. I wasn’t so sure that it was over yet. Grandma wasn’t the kind of person to let something like that go. I just hoped that I didn’t get dragged into whatever punishment she decided to inflict on them.
“Are you looking forward to the school reunion?” I was behind the cake counter with Amber. Pearl was busy in the tea room.
“I can’t wait.”
“Have you seen many of the people you were at school with since you left?”
“Yeah. Most of them still live around here—a lot of them are still with their parents.” She glanced over at the tea room. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure.”
“You mustn’t tell Pearl. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“At school, there was this one guy I used to have a crush on: Miles Best. He was hot with a capital ‘O’.”
Huh?
“I think he fancied me too, but he was a bit shy back then.”
“What about William?”
“What about him? Nothing’s going to happen. I’m just looking forward to seeing Miles again. That’s all. You won’t say anything will you?”
“Of course not.”
As we approached lunch time, the tea room was getting busier. Pearl asked if I could help her out for an hour or so until it was time for me to collect Barry.
I took the orders and payments while Pearl and one of the other assistants made the drinks.
“You should see the dress I’ve bought for the reunion!” Pearl said, during a lull. “I look hot—even if I do say so myself.”
“Hot with a capital ‘O’?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
Pearl sneaked a glance at the cake shop counter to make sure Amber wasn’t listening. “There’s this guy I used to fancy at school. I can’t wait to see him again.”
“What about Alan?”
“It’s only flirting. Nothing serious. Alan doesn’t have to know. You won’t tell him, will you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Or Amber? Promise?”
“I promise.”
“He was the hottest guy in our year, and I’m sure he used to fancy me, but he was shy back then.”
Oh dear. It couldn’t be, could it? “What was his name?”
“Miles. Miles Best.”
This wasn’t going to end well.
Chapter 5
Barry had never looked cleaner. Or thinner. Or more cheesed off.
“I’m cold,” he said, as I waited to pay.
“You’ll be fine.”
“They cut off all of my hair.”
“Not all of it. Look.” I ran my hand through his lovely, clean coat.
“I’ll catch my death. Can I have one of those?” He looked across at the display of dog coats.
“Really? It’s not that cold.”
He shivered. I was sure he’d only done it for effect, but what the heck?
“What colour would you like?”
He gave me a look.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. You can only see in black and white can’t you?”
“Maybe, but I can see at least fifty shades of grey.”
Everyone’s a comedian.
“I like the one with the bones on it,” he said.
Barry had a swagger to his walk on the way back home. Every time we passed by another dog, he gave them a ‘check me out in my new bone-covered coat’ look. I had to admit, it did suit him. It had been an expensive morning what with the cost of the grooming, and the new dog coat. Time to get back to Washbridge to earn some money.
I popped into Cuppy C to let Amber and Pearl know I was leaving. They were still remarkably dung-free, so maybe Grandma had let this one slide.
Or maybe not.
***
“This is my sister,” Mrs V said.
The woman seated next to her desk was a slightly y
ounger version of Mrs V.
“Pleased to meet you.” I offered my hand.
“So you’re the private investigator. Annabel has told me so much about you.” Mrs G had a surprisingly firm grip for a woman so petite. “Rather an unsuitable job for a woman, I would have thought.”
Mrs V rolled her eyes.
“I manage,” I said.
“I’m sure you do, dear.” Mrs G released her grip, took out a handkerchief and wiped her hand. “I suppose it will have to do until the right man comes along.”
“Have you seen your sister’s trophy?” I said, ignoring her not so subtle dig.
“Yes, it’s very—” She searched for the right word. “Big. It’s a shame it’s only a regional award. I’ve won so many of those that I don't bother to display the regional cups any more. I only keep the national trophies on display.” She turned to her sister. “I forget, how many do I have now, Annabel?”
“You have five of them, G.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. No wonder Mrs V had an inferiority complex if this is how her sister had treated her over the years.
“I understand your grandmother has opened a new knitting shop,” Mrs G said.
“She has. You should pay it a visit.”
Mrs G and Grandma would get on like a house on fire.
“What a good idea. Come on Annabel, you can show me the Everlasting Wool which you were telling me about.”
“I can’t go now, I’m working—”
“Nonsense. Jill doesn’t mind, do you dear?”
Mrs V looked at me with desperate eyes.
“Not at all. Don’t rush back. Get lunch if you like.”
How could I have been so cruel? Maybe Grandma’s evil ways had begun to rub off on me.
“Where are those two bookends going?” Winky asked. He’d somehow acquired a dart board which he’d managed to set up on the wall above the leather sofa.
“Mrs V is taking her sister to the wool shop.”
“Hopefully they’ll stay there. One old bag lady is bad enough, but stereo ugly is too much for anyone to bear.”
“Hey, be careful with those.”
One of the darts had bounced out of the board and fallen onto the sofa.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Do you want a game?”
“I have work to do.”
“I’ll play you for a tenner.”
“Where did you get ten pounds from?”
“Never mind that. Do you want to play or not?”
It would be the easiest ten pounds I’d ever made. He’d yet to get a dart in the board.
“One game.”
“Yeah—ten pounds for the winner.” Winky slapped a ten pound note on the sofa. “Now, let’s see the colour of your money.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“No.”
Charming. I was the one who fed him, provided him with a home, and generally doted on him, but he didn’t think I was good for ten pounds. “Here!” I slammed my tenner on top of his.
“You can go first.” He handed me the darts.
I’d played occasionally at the local pub and, although I do say so myself, I was pretty good. I was certainly good enough to beat a one-eyed cat. Some might ask if it was ethical to take advantage of an ocularly challenged feline. To them, I’d say—‘Damn straight!’
I got off to a good start with a dart in the twenty. My second dart slipped into the single five, but I pulled it back with a fantastic treble twenty on my last dart.
“Look at them babies!” I said, as I collected my darts.
Winky was all concentration. I probably should have gone a little easier on him. There was no need to rub his little face in it.
Treble twenty, treble twenty and another treble twenty.
“One hundred and eighty!” Winky shouted.
“You’re a cheat!” I’d been hustled by a one-eyed cat.
He held up his paws—trying to look ‘oh so innocent’, but I was onto his game. The wayward darts he’d thrown when I walked into the room had been deliberate. He’d set me up, and I’d fallen for it: hook, line and tenner.
My confidence now gone, I managed only thirty five with the next three darts. Winky hit one hundred and forty, and had the gall to look disappointed.
Ten minutes later, with me back on two hundred and thirty, Winky wanted double-top to win. As if I wasn’t already feeling bad enough, he turned around so his back was to the board, and then threw the dart over his shoulder. It landed smack bang in the centre of double twenty.
“I win, I think.” Winky scooped up the money.
“You cheating—” I launched my first dart at the board as hard as I could. “Little—” The second dart bounced off the wall. “Fur bag!”
“Sorry to disturb you.”
The man’s voice caught me mid-throw. I turned to face him—dart still in hand.
“Don’t shoot, I surrender.” He smiled, but I detected at least a hint of nerves.
“Sorry.” I put the remaining dart on my desk. “I was just—” Just what? Playing darts with the cat? Being hustled by the cat? Going insane? “I was just tidying up.”
“Right. Yes.” He edged into the office. “There was no one out there, so I came through.”
“How can I help you, Mr—?” It was high time that I had a handsome hunk for a client.
“Luther Stone.”
Luther Stone—wow! A superhero name to go with superhero looks and body. This was one case I was going to enjoy.
“How can I help you, Mr Stone?”
“Please call me Luther.”
Just try stopping me.
“I have an appointment,” he said.
“You do?”
“Your secretary contacted me.”
“She did?”
Had Mrs V decided I was such a hopeless case that she’d hired a male escort for me?
He handed me his card.
“You’re the accountant?”
“That’s right. The lady said your previous accountant had left the profession.”
“An accountant—like with numbers and tax and stuff?”
“Usually, yes. If I’ve called at an inconvenient time, I can always call again later. Or another day.”
“No!” I said way too enthusiastically. “Today is fine. Right now is fine. My previous accountant, Robert Roberts, left all my books—would you like to see them?”
“Robert Roberts?”
“Yes. Strange man. He’s now a hipster, food critic apparently. The books are in the filing cabinet in the outer office. You could use the desk out there if you like.” Or my knee—whichever you prefer.
I piled the books onto Mrs V’s desk. “If there’s anything you need. Anything at all. Just give me a shout.” I was going for ‘smouldering’, but judging by the look of terror on Luther Stone’s face, I’d actually managed psychopath.
Would he notice if I snapped a photo to send to Kathy? Probably best to leave it—I didn’t want to risk scaring him off. That didn’t stop me from calling her.
“Hot accountant? Impossible.” Kathy laughed.
“I’m telling you. He’s sitting in the outer office right now.”
“Photo or he doesn’t exist.”
“I can’t, he already thinks I’m a nutter.”
“Surely not.”
It was time to take my mind off Luther.
“How’s Peter’s new job?”
“It seems to be going really well. Pete says Colonel Briggs is the best boss he’s ever had. Pete’s helping to organise the garden party.”
“What garden party?”
“The one you said you’d go to.”
“First I’ve heard of it.”
“You and your memory.”
This was one of Kathy’s favourite ploys. Making out I’d agreed to do something when I knew nothing about it. “I hate garden parties.”
“You hate everything: the theatre, circuses, garden parties—what do you like?”
; “Hot accountants and custard creams.”
“Anyway, you have to go to the garden party. Colonel Briggs made a special point of asking Pete to invite you. You could bring Jack.”
“I think I’d rather bring Luther—”
“Sorry?” Luther Stone said. He’d popped his head around my door without my noticing.
I could feel the colour rising in my cheeks. “I was just—this is my sister.” I pointed to the phone. “I mean—this isn’t my sister—this is a phone. I’m talking to my sister. On the phone.”
“Jill!” Kathy shouted. “Are you still there?” I pressed the ‘end call’ button.
I smiled at Luther. “I was just telling her, my sister that is, that I had a new accountant. She likes me to keep her updated on accountancy related matters.”
“Right. I see.” He clearly didn’t. Yet another name added to the long list of people who thought I was a sandwich short of a picnic. “I’ve had a quick look at the books.”
“Already? That didn’t take long.”
“There isn’t too much to see.”
Rub it in, why don’t you?
“How often did your previous accountant meet with you?”
“Once a month.”
“That’s really not necessary. For this level of business, once a quarter should be more than enough.”
“Really?” Only four helpings of Luther a year?
“I think so.”
“Business has begun to pick up though. And I’ve sort of got used to the monthly meetings.”
“It’s your decision, of course. I was just trying to save you a little money.”
“I think we should stick to the monthly meetings for now.”
“Very well. Monthly it is.”
This is what it had come to. Apparently, the only way I could get a man was to pay him by the month.
***
“What happened?” Kathy asked when I eventually picked up her call. I was en route to get a cappuccino, and possibly—who was I kidding—definitely, a blueberry muffin.
“Sorry. The accountant needed my attention.”
“Did he now?” She laughed. “Why don’t you bring him to the garden party?”
