by Adele Abbott
“The vicar has just thanked me for volunteering to man one of the stalls at the annual village fete.”
“I saw him earlier. He said they were shorthanded, so I thought you and I could help out.”
“Don’t you think you should have asked me first?”
“I knew you wouldn’t mind. And besides, Florence will want to go to the fete, so we can take turns manning the stall and being with her.”
“But village fetes are so boring.”
“It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do on a Sunday, is it?”
“We could watch paint dry instead.”
He glanced at the biscuits. “Do you think you’ve got enough of those?”
We’d just finished dinner when Jack’s phone beeped with a message.
“I’ve been waiting for this. Florence, come and see.”
They both stared at the screen. Although I could hear music, I couldn’t see what they were looking at, but whatever it was, it had them both engrossed. After a few minutes, Jack said, “What do you think, Florence?”
“Are they better than me and Mummy, Daddy?”
“No, of course not.”
“What are you two watching?” I said.
“See for yourself.” He handed me the phone. “I got talking to Donna when I collected Florence from school. She said she and Wendy had been practising their dance routine every evening, and she promised to send over a video for Florence to watch.”
I pressed play on the video. The routine that Donna and Wendy had come up with was nowhere near as complicated as the one that Florence had devised. Their performance was faultless and put ours to shame.
“We have to practise more, Mummy,” Florence said. “Otherwise, Wendy will win on Saturday.”
“Okay, darling. We’ll practise some more tomorrow. Probably.”
“No! We have to do it tonight and we have to practise twice as long.”
“Right.” Great.
I’d just finished loading the dishwasher when there was a knock at the door. Jack was outside with Florence, so I went to answer it, and found Stewart standing there.
“Where is he, Jill? Where’s Buddy?”
“You can’t have him.”
“You said I could.”
“I’ve changed my mind. It would break Florence’s little heart.”
“I have to have him at least for Saturday morning.”
“Why? What’s happening then?”
“My mother’s coming around. She was the one who bought Buddy for me. I haven’t told her that I’ve given him away. If he isn’t there when she comes, I’ll get it in the neck. Please, Jill, you have to help me.”
“Why should I?”
“I’ll give you a tenner to borrow him on Saturday morning.”
“Fifty quid.”
“That’s outrageous.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Okay, fifty quid, but you have to have him at my place by ten o’clock.”
“I will, but if you don’t have the cash, I won’t leave him with you.”
“I’ll have the money.”
“Good.” I closed the door.
That’s what I call a result.
“Who was that?” Jack came through from the kitchen.
“Just someone selling double glazing.”
Chapter 10
“Are you alright, Jill?” Jack was standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching me slowly hobble down.
“Just about.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“It’s my legs. They’re stiff after all that dancing Florence made me do last night.”
“You’re walking like an old lady.”
“Thanks, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”
“Mummy! Mummy!” Florence came bounding across the kitchen. “I found him.”
“You found who?”
“Archie.”
“Is that the red and yellow caterpillar you told me about?”
“Yes. He must have been hiding last night when you came outside to look at him. Come and see him now.”
“Can I have my breakfast first? I’m starving.”
“Please, Mummy. Come now or he’ll go again.”
“Oh, okay.”
She took me by the hand and practically dragged me outside.
“Look, he’s over there.”
Sure enough, just as she’d said, there was a red caterpillar with yellow spots. “He’s very fancy, isn’t he?”
“Archie is my favourite caterpillar ever.”
“Why do you call him Archie?”
“Because that’s his name, silly.”
“Of course.”
“Is that all you’re having for breakfast, Jill?” Jack said, as he and Florence tucked into their muesli.
“It’s what I fancy.” I took a bite of my second custard cream.
“It isn’t very healthy though, is it? Why don’t you have some fruit, at least?”
“Cut me some slack, Jack. My legs are killing me and I’m tired. You could at least allow me to enjoy my custard creams without guilt tripping me.”
“Okay, but don’t blame me when all your teeth fall out.”
“They’re not going to fall out now, are they, Mummy?” Florence shuddered.
“They’re not going to fall out at all, darling. Daddy’s just being silly.”
***
On my way to the office, I made a detour to Kathy’s house because I wanted to have a word with Henry about his all-night jazz sessions. If they were allowed to continue, there was a real danger that Kathy would storm over to her new neighbours’ house and lay into them. They, of course, would have absolutely no idea what she was talking about.
I didn’t want her to see my car, so I parked on the next street and made my way to her house on foot.
At last, a bit of good luck! There were no cars on the driveway; Kathy and Peter must have both gone into work early. I hurried around the back of the house, but there was no sign of the elves.
The gnome with the fishing rod gave me a little wave. “Hi, Jill, you spend almost as much time here as the owners.”
“Not by choice. Do you happen to know where Henry and Henrietta are?”
“They’re probably in the summer house, making out again.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s where they usually are.”
“Right, thanks.” I glanced back at the conservatory, to make sure the coast was still clear, then walked over to the summer house and pushed open the door.
“Jill? Hi,” Henry said, all innocent-like. “We weren’t expecting to see you.”
“I can see that. How come you aren’t stone?”
“We don’t use the potion at night because it makes it difficult to get close to one another.” Henry winked at me. “If you know what I mean.”
“Why are you in here, anyway? You’re only meant to be in the summer house during the hours of darkness.”
“Is it light already?” Henrietta said.
“Yes, and it has been for an hour. You both need to turn yourselves to stone and get out in the garden before someone realises that you’re missing.”
“Sorry, Jill.” Henry straightened his collar.
“First, though, I need a word with you about something Kathy told me.”
“Who’s Kathy?
“Have you forgotten already? She’s my sister. The woman who owns this house.”
“Oh yes, sorry. Carry on.”
“She said she’d been kept awake all night by someone playing loud jazz music.”
“I told you, Henry,” Henrietta barked at him. “I said that awful music was too loud.”
“I do apologise,” Henry said. “It’s just that it’s so nice to be able to enjoy jazz anytime I want, and not have to wait until someone’s driving the car.”
“That’s as maybe, but you’re going to have to keep the volume down so they can’t hear it in the house. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to take you two back to the car.”
“Don’t do that, Jill,” Henry said. “We love it here. After all this space and fresh air, we can’t go back to that claustrophobic glove compartment.”
“Keep the music down, then.”
“We will. I promise.”
“Good. Now, take your potion and get out into the garden before someone realises you’re missing.”
I was halfway down the driveway when I heard Peter’s voice behind me.
“Jill?”
Oh bum!
“Hi, Peter. I thought you’d gone to work.”
“My van’s gone in for servicing, so I decided to stay home and catch up on some paperwork. Did I just see you in the back garden?”
“Err, yeah. I thought I’d just check up on the elves that I gave Kathy.”
“Check up on them?”
“Yeah, I—err—wanted to make sure they’d settled in okay.”
“Right? And have they?”
“Yeah. All A-Okay.”
“That’s good.” He glanced at the road. “Where’s your car?”
“I had to take mine in for a service too.”
“How did you get here?”
“Jack gave me a lift.”
“Where is he?”
“He—err—had to go back to take Florence to school.”
“How are you going to get to the office?”
“I thought I’d walk.”
“It’s miles from here.”
“The exercise will do me good.” I started down the driveway. “See you.”
“Bye, Jill.”
No doubt he’d tell Kathy that her crazy sister had made a house call.
I walked slowly down the street and kept checking behind me until Peter had gone into the house, then I doubled back and hurried to the car.
***
When I arrived at the office, Mrs V had a huge smile plastered across her face.
“Good morning, Jill. What a beautiful day this is.”
“Good morning. You’re looking exceptionally pleased with life today, Mrs V. Any particular reason?”
“Can’t you guess? I have to admit that I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when you actually did it.”
“Did what?”
“Got rid of that fleabag of a cat. I’ve been telling you to do it for long enough.”
“Winky? I haven’t got rid of him. Not yet, anyway.”
“Well, he’s gone.”
“What do you mean, he’s gone?”
“The food you put out for him yesterday hasn’t been touched and there’s no sign of him.”
“He’s probably just gone on one of his expeditions. He does go missing occasionally.”
“How very disappointing. I really thought you’d finally got shut of him.”
Just as Mrs V had said, Winky’s food was still in his bowl, untouched. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. He’d probably just gone to visit one of his many friends and decided to stay over. He wouldn’t have just upped and left like that. Not without saying goodbye.
I was just about to take a seat at my desk when I noticed a small white envelope on the chair. I ripped it open, to find a note from Winky.
Dear Jill,
I had absolutely nothing to do with the disappearance of the old bag lady’s yarn, but it’s clear that you’re not prepared to accept my word. Rather than suffer the indignation of being thrown onto the street, I have decided to leave of my own accord.
I wish you well and hope you can live with yourself.
Yours disappointedly,
Winky.
I slumped into the chair, feeling dreadful. It’s true that I’d given him an ultimatum, but I would never have thrown him out. I was just trying to force him to return the yarn.
What if he really hadn’t taken it? What if he’d been telling the truth?
I walked over to the open window.
“Winky! Winky, where are you? Winky!”
Nothing.
For the next hour, I shuffled papers around my desk while watching the window in case Winky returned, but he was a no-show.
***
I’d arranged to meet Andy, the mechanic who had worked alongside Killer at the bike workshop, which was next door to the Wash-on-Wheels clubroom.
One of the two large wooden doors was propped open. Inside, there were a number of motorcycles in different states of repair. Lying on the floor, working on one of them, was a man wearing blue overalls.
“Excuse me,” I said.
He looked up. “Are you that private investigator woman?”
“That’s me. Jill Maxwell.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute. I just need to get this nut undone, but it doesn’t want to budge. Why don’t you go over there and put the kettle on?”
“Sure.”
On the small table were several mugs. They were all covered in grease and had the dregs of something inside them, which may or may not have been tea or coffee. I filled the kettle but decided not to bother with a drink.
“Yes! Got it!” Andy climbed to his feet, wiped his greasy hands on his overalls, and came over to join me. “Tea or coffee?”
“Nothing for me, thanks.”
“Grab a chair.”
I did as he said and waited until he’d made himself a cup of tea, which he poured into a mug that bore the words: Bikers do it on two wheels.
“I suppose you’re here to talk about Killer.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“Yeah. Chains told me that you and Killer worked together.”
“That’s right. Most of the time, anyway.”
“I understand that you were a member of this club before Killer.”
“Several years before.”
“How did you feel when Chains brought him in?”
“I thought it was unnecessary. I can do everything that Killer could. If you ask me, he was overrated.”
“I take it that you and he didn’t get on.”
“That’s not true. I wasn’t thrilled that they brought him in, but I’m not the kind of person to hold a grudge.”
“Were you two able to work together okay?”
“For the most part. I didn’t always agree with his methods, but we always got there in the end.”
“What were the two of you working on when he died?”
“We’d more or less finished all the work on the competition bike. That’s it over there.” He pointed to a bike at the far end of the workshop.
“It looks good.”
“Good? That bike is the dog’s. We’ll win again this year for sure.”
“When is the competition?”
“Week after next.”
“If you weren’t working on the competition bike that day, what were you working on?”
“I worked on several bikes. None of them were big jobs. Killer was working on his own bike because he’d had a couple of problems with it the weekend before.”
“I believe you were the one who found him.”
“Yeah, he was lying next to his bike.”
“Any idea where his bike is now?”
“It’s over there, behind that screen.”
“How come it’s still in here?”
“No one knew what to do with it, but Chains told me yesterday that Killer’s brother is supposed to be coming to pick it up.”
“Can I take a look at it?”
“Sure.” He led the way across the workshop and around the screen. “Nice bike, eh?”
“I guess. I understand from Chains that the police believe Killer’s death was an accident.”
“So they reckon, but I don’t buy it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“See that workbench over there? The edge of it was covered in his blood. Someone must have thrown him against it.”
“How do you know he didn’t just trip and fall backwards? That’s what the police believe, I assume?”
“Yeah, but they’re idiots.” He pointed to the floor. “There was blood all the way from the bench to his
bike, where he’d managed to drag himself.”
“It could still have been an accident.”
“Then why did he do this?” He took out his phone, brought up a photo and held it out for me to see.
“That’s this bike, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Zoom in on the petrol tank. What do you see?”
“Is that blood?”
“Yeah. It’s the letter ‘S’. Killer was trying to tell us who did this to him.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it? It might not even be the letter ‘S’. He might just have been trying to stand up and dragged his fingers across the tank.”
“That’s definitely an ‘S’ and it stands for Slugger.”
“The leader of the Loose Chippings motorcycle club?”
“Yeah. It had to be him who did it. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Did you point out the blood print to the police?”
“Yeah, but they weren’t interested. They’d already made up their minds that it was an accident.”
“Seems I need to have a chat with Slugger.”
“Be careful. That guy is insane.”
***
After leaving the garage, I headed across town to the office. I’d just turned a corner, when I found the pavement blocked by workmen; they were digging a big hole. Pedestrians were being redirected across the road.
Why were they always digging holes in Washbridge? It’s not like they ever actually seemed to do anything with them, other than fill them in again. I was about to cross the road when I caught a glimpse of the two workmen: Standing in the hole, ankle deep in water, were Daze and Blaze.
I leaned over the barrier. “Hey, Daze. Having fun?”
“Why do we get all the worst jobs? I’m beginning to think someone doesn’t like us.”
“What are you two doing down there?”
“Digging a hole. What does it look like?”
“I can see that, but I assume this is all a cover?”
“You’re right. We’re on the lookout for Blue Jim.”
“Who’s he?”
“A rogue wizard who, according to our intel, has been plying his trade in this neighbourhood.”
“I thought you were after the Canary Brothers?”
“We caught them yesterday. They’re banged up.”
“You were about to tell me why they’re known as the Canary Brothers when you were called away.”
