by Adele Abbott
“We’re not going to do that. It was more trouble than it was worth. Plus, it turned out to be a money pit. We need something that’s going to make us money, not lose it.”
“What ideas have you come up with so far?”
“We haven’t.” Pearl shook her head. “What about you, Jill? Can you think of anything?”
“Sorry, I don’t have any bright ideas. Have you thought about asking Grandma?”
“Grandma?” Amber looked like I’d just asked her to suck on a lemon. “Why would we ask her? She’s old and past it.”
“You say that, but she’s run a number of successful businesses, including Ever Tea Rooms. And she’s never short of new ideas.”
The two of them exchanged a glance, then said in unison, “Nah.”
“We’ll come up with something ourselves,” Pearl said.
Which was precisely what worried me.
“I’ve just been to the library.”
“Pretending you can read again?” Pearl laughed.
“I’ve been trying to find information on rainbows.”
“You could have saved yourself a journey. We could have told you that they’re those colourful things you see in the sky.”
“You’re hilarious. Maybe you should open a comedy club upstairs. I went to the library because I wanted to find out if rainbows work differently in the paranormal world.”
“Work differently? What do you mean?”
I pulled the scrap of paper from my pocket and put it on the table. “I have to figure this out.”
“Is this from a case you’re working on?” Amber said.
“Err, yeah.”
“Where’s the rest of it?” Pearl picked up the paper.
“What do you mean?”
“The rest of the clue. It looks like this piece of paper has been torn. Maybe there’s more to the clue than this.”
“I don’t think so. It’s pretty obvious that I have to work out where rainbows end.”
My phone rang.
“Is that Jill Maxwell?” a woman’s voice said.
“Jill Maxwell speaking.”
“Are you the private investigator?”
“That’s right. Who am I speaking to, please?”
“My name is Elizabeth Duggan. My husband, Doug, was the manager at the lido.”
“Oh, hi.” I hadn’t been expecting a call from her, and particularly not so soon after her husband’s tragic death.
“I hope you don’t mind me calling you, Jill.”
“Not at all.”
“It’s just that I wondered if we could meet.”
“Of course. When would work for you?”
“I can’t do today. How about tomorrow morning at ten?”
“That’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll give you my address.”
“Who was that?” Pearl asked when I’d finished on the call.
“The widow of the manager of the lido.
“Wasn’t he found dead in the pool?”
“Yeah. His assistant found him. He was supposed to be giving me a call the day he died.”
“What about?”
“Grandma asked me to try and find out who owns the lido because she’s heard they’re going to close it down and sell it off. I talked to his assistant, but all she could tell me was that she was paid by a company called Reptile Holdings. Have you heard of them?”
“Sorry, no.”
***
Back in the human world, I was on my way to meet with Chains, leader of Wash-on-Wheels Motorcycle Club. I’d called him the previous evening to set up the meeting, and although he’d seemed a little hesitant at first, he’d eventually agreed. I was probably guilty of stereotyping, but I’d expected him to live in one of the more rundown areas of Washbridge, but it turned out that he lived in Upper Wash.
The drive over seemed eerily quiet now that I no longer had Henry or Henrietta to keep me company. I wondered how they were getting on. Hopefully, they weren’t getting too amorous in Kathy’s summerhouse.
When the satnav announced I’d reached my destination, I thought it must be a mistake because I was outside a quaint cottage. This couldn’t possibly be where Chains lived. Perhaps he had a caravan parked around the back of the property.
The immaculate front garden put mine to shame. There were hanging baskets on either side of the door, and a welcome mat with a picture of a cat on it. By now, I was convinced I was at the wrong place, but I thought I’d better make sure, so I knocked and waited. A couple of minutes later, an elderly woman, wearing a floral dress, answered the door.
“Hello, young lady. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to trouble you. I think I must have the wrong address. I was actually looking for someone called Chains.”
“You mean Norman.”
“Do I?”
“Norman is my son, but he does sometimes go by that horrible name. Why he can’t use his given name, Norman Rupert Masters, is beyond me.”
“Norman Rupert? That’s a fine name.”
“Mum!” Chains’ voice came from somewhere in the house. “Is that for me?”
“Yes, there’s a young woman to see you, Norman.” She turned back to me. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jill Maxwell.”
“Her name’s Jill Maxwell,” she shouted.
“Show her in, would you, Mum? I’ll be there in a minute.”
“He’s in the loo. He’s had a bit of an iffy tummy all day. Let’s go through to the parlour and I’ll make a nice cup of tea. My name’s Hettie, by the way.”
“It’s very nice to make your acquaintance, Hettie.”
She led the way into the small parlour where everything, and I mean everything, was floral: The wallpaper, the carpets, the curtains, the tablecloth, and even the radio.
“Take a seat at the table, Jill, and I’ll go and make the drinks.”
A couple of minutes later, Chains (or should I say Norman?) appeared. I barely recognised him. Instead of his leathers, he was wearing corduroy trousers, a checked shirt, and slippers.
“Hi, Norman.” I grinned.
“I thought Mum would be out this afternoon.” He rolled his eyes. “But her bridge club was cancelled.”
“She seems really nice.”
“She’s the best.”
“I like your outfit, Norman.”
“Mum doesn’t approve of my biker gear. Or my nickname.”
“Do the rest of the club know you live with your mother?”
“I don’t live here. Not normally, anyway. I was living with my girlfriend up to a week ago, but then she found out about Fi and threw me out.”
“Oh dear. Couldn’t you have moved in with Fi?”
“She sort of still has a boyfriend.”
“Your life is extremely complicated, Norman. Or should I call you Chains?”
He glanced at the door. “You’d better call me Norman while Mum is around.”
“Here we are.” His mother appeared with a cup of tea in each hand. I wasn’t sure how many sugars you took, Jill.”
“None for me, thanks.”
“I’ve put four in yours as usual, Norman.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“I’ll leave you two to it. It was nice to meet you, Jill.”
“Likewise.”
Once we were alone in the room, Norman seemed to relax a little.
“Your Mum has a lovely home,” I said.
“She’s always been very houseproud.”
“Why don’t you tell me about Killer?”
“Sure. Where should I start?”
“Wherever you like.”
“He used to be a member of the Loose Chippings Motorcycle Club.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. For several years.”
“Is it normal for a member to swap clubs?”
“No, it’s very rare. In fact, I don’t know of anyone else who’s done it.”
“Why did he defect?”
&
nbsp; “Killer was never really interested in the biker lifestyle, just in the bikes. He was a real petrol head. He loved messing around with cars and bikes, but mainly bikes. There was nothing he didn’t know about them. Loose Chippings is a much smaller club than ours, and they didn’t have the funds to allow Killer to be as creative as he wanted to be on the competition bike. Out of frustration, he reached out to me, to ask if I’d consider allowing him to join our club.”
“How did you feel about that?”
“I was delighted. I’d been aware of Killer’s reputation for years, and I knew he could help us to land the trophy.”
“So, you agreed?”
“Yes. I didn’t hesitate.”
“Was there any bad feeling?”
“Plenty. On both sides. The Loose Chippings guys felt that Killer had betrayed them, and there were a small number of our members who didn’t think he should have been allowed to join.”
“Did he get any abuse?”
“Lots of it. And threats.”
“How did he react to that?”
“He wasn’t bothered. He never took it seriously. And besides, Killer could handle himself.”
“Can we talk about the days leading up to his death? Did anything unusual happen?”
“Err, no. Not really.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“It’s just that Killer was usually the life and soul of the party. He was always laughing and joking, but on the last couple of days before he died, he was unusually quiet. I asked if anything was wrong, but he said he was just feeling a bit under the weather. Looking back now, I wonder if there might’ve been more to it.”
“Apart from the three of you that I met at the club, was anyone else particularly close to Killer?”
“There’s Andy. He’s a mechanic too. He’s not as talented, but he worked on the bike with Killer sometimes.”
“Do you have his contact details?”
“Sure. I’ll let you have them before you leave.”
Chapter 8
The three of us had just finished breakfast when there was a knock at the door. A visitor at this hour of the morning usually meant bad news, and today proved to be no exception.
“Great-Grandma!” Florence yelled when I opened the door.
“Hello, my little poppet.” Grandma gave her a gentle pat on the head. “You’re looking even more beautiful than ever. I can’t think where you get your good looks from.”
Thanks.
“What brings you over here at the crack of dawn?” I said.
“The crack of dawn was several hours ago. I’ve been for a three-mile walk already this morning.”
“That’s great, but we are kind of busy.”
“What’s my little poppet been up to lately?”
“Mummy and I are in the dance competition on Saturday.”
“Are you now? Isn’t that exciting?”
“Would you like to see our dance, Great-Grandma?”
Oh bum! Please tell me Florence didn’t actually say that.
“I’d love to see it.” Grandma grinned.
“Why don’t you take Great-Grandma into the kitchen, Florence, and show her the dance?”
“No, Mummy, we both have to do it.”
“Yes, Mummy.” Grandma was enjoying this way too much. “I want to see both of you do the dance.”
Florence grabbed my hand and dragged me into the kitchen.
“Hello, Jim,” Grandma said. “I didn’t realise you were home.”
“It’s Jack.”
“Same difference. Florence and Jill are going to show me their dance.”
“Are they?” Jack’s face lit up. “Cool. I’d like to see that too.”
“We can’t dance in here because we don’t have the music.” This was my last, pathetic attempt to get out of it.
“I’ll go and get the iPod.” Florence dashed upstairs.
“I’m looking forward to this.” Jack sat back in his chair.
“Are you ready, Mummy?” Florence came charging back downstairs with the iPod.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The music started and we began our (not so short) routine. I kept my eyes shut until we’d finished because if I’d seen the smirks on Jack’s or Grandma’s face, I’d have totally lost it.
When we’d finished, Florence took a bow, and said, “Did you like it, Great-Grandma?”
“I thought you were excellent. You’re clearly a natural.”
“Do you think we’ll win the competition on Saturday?”
“I’m sure you will, but only if your mummy puts in a lot more practice.”
“We’re going to practise again tonight, aren’t we, Mummy?”
“Yes, darling. Now, Grandma, did you come over for anything in particular?”
“I did. Do you think I might have a quiet word in the lounge?”
“Sure.” Once we were in there, I closed the door behind me. “What is it?”
“Before I get into that, you do realise that you’ll have to use magic if you want to win the dance competition on Saturday. You have three left feet.”
“I’m not all that bad.”
“You’re worse. I’ve seen camels with more grace.”
“I have no intention of resorting to magic. What kind of example would that be to set for Florence?”
“If you don’t, you’ll probably come last. She won’t be very happy then.”
“I’m not going to use magic and that’s final. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve resolved the Ivers problem.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Do you remember what I told you about how the potion was administered?”
“You said it was in a fine mist that was sprayed onto any human who came through the main entrance.”
“That’s right.”
“Clearly it isn’t working properly, otherwise Mr Ivers wouldn’t have been able to see the paranormal creatures, would he?”
“I’d tested that system thoroughly, so I couldn’t understand why it wasn’t having the desired effect, but then I discovered Ivers doesn’t always use the front entrance. He occasionally comes in the back way, which meant he wasn’t being sprayed with the mist.”
“How do you propose to rectify that situation?”
“I’ve already done it. The mist system has now been installed on all entrances to the hotel, so no matter which way Ivers comes into the building, he’ll always be sprayed by the potion. The same applies for any other human who ventures into the hotel. Am I a genius or am I a genius?”
“If you were a genius, you’d have set it up correctly the first time.”
“There’s no pleasing you, is there?”
“Let’s just hope it’s not too late.” I was about to leave the room when Grandma said, “Isn’t it time that human of yours, John, or whatever his name is, found himself a job? It isn’t right that he should stay at home all day while you have to work.”
“Wow! Where do I even begin? First, he is not that human of mine; he’s my husband. Second, and as you very well know, his name is Jack, not John. And Jack works from home.”
“If you ask me, he’s playing you for a mug.”
“Here’s the thing, Grandma. I didn’t ask you. And if I ever need your advice on my marriage, I’ll—scrub that—I will never need your advice on my marriage.”
“Please yourself, I was only trying to help.” She stormed out of the house in a huff.
“Great-Grandma didn’t say goodbye to me.” Florence pouted.
“She had to go back to the hotel straight away, but she told me to tell you again how much she liked your dancing.”
“Did she like yours, Jill?” Jack said.
***
Mrs V still wasn’t happy.
“I’m not happy, Jill.”
See, what did I tell you? It’s almost as though I have a sixth sense.
“Are you still ups
et about the missing yellow yarn?”
“Yes, that yarn is simply irreplaceable. I wish I knew what that cat had done with it.”
“We don’t know for sure it was Winky who took it.”
“Who else could it have been?”
“Maybe someone sneaked into the office while you were sleeping—err—I mean, meditating.”
“That’s ridiculous. Who would want to steal a few balls of wool?”
“Hang on. How is it that you think that’s ridiculous, but you’re prepared to believe the cat did it?”
“He has history.”
“Maybe you should meditate. It might take your mind off it.”
“I tried earlier, but I can’t focus. Every time I close my eyes, I can see those balls of yellow yarn disappearing out of the door. I even had a nightmare about them last night.”
Winky was sitting on the sofa, filing his claws.
“Where is it?” I demanded.
“Where is what?”
“The yellow yarn you stole, of course.”
“I told you yesterday. I had nothing to do with taking the old bag lady’s yarn.”
“You do realise that time is running out for you, don’t you? If that yarn is not back here by five o’clock tomorrow, you’re out.”
“You’re accusing me without any evidence whatsoever. No court in the land would convict me.”
“That’s not true. The court of Jill Maxwell is happy to take just my word, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll bring back that yarn.”
Before he could respond, my phone rang.
“Jill, it’s Rita Reed.”
“Hi, RiRi—err—I mean, Rita.”
“You left a message for me to call you.”
“Yeah, I’ve spoken to Kathy and she’s up for a night out next week. Wednesday would work best for us if that’s okay for you?”
“Wednesday’s fine. Where and when?”
“Let’s say eight o’clock, and I don’t mind where. Why don’t you choose?”
“What about the new bar that’s just opened in Wash Square. Have you seen it?”
“No, but then I haven’t been down there for a while.”
“It looks okay from the outside. It’s called Wash Upon A Time.”
“Okay, let’s give it a try. See you next week.”
***
I’d agreed to visit Doug Duggan’s widow, Elizabeth. I was a little nervous because it was only a couple of days since her husband had been found face down in the pool, and I wasn’t sure what to expect.
