by Adele Abbott
“Mummy, something is wrong with Archie and Angie.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve gone all funny. Look, they’re underneath that branch.”
“It’s okay. They’ve just turned into chrysalis.”
“I don’t want them to be Christmas lists. I want them to be caterpillars.”
“It’s cris-a-lis, and all caterpillars do it.”
“Why?”
“They stay inside that shell thing for a while and then, one day, they come back out as a butterfly.”
Her face lit up. “Are Archie and Angie going to be butterflies?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Will they still be red with yellow spots?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to wait and find out.”
“How long does it take? Can I stay out here and wait?”
“It doesn’t happen that quick.”
“How long will it be?”
“I’m not sure. Why don’t you go and ask Daddy? He’s an expert on caterpillars and butterflies.”
Chapter 17
“Don’t tell me you’re going to eat another one,” Jack said.
I’d just begun to peel an orange. “You were the one who told me I should eat more fruit.”
“I know, but you’ve already eaten two.”
“So what? If one is good for you, three must be three times as good.”
“That’s the problem with you, Jill. It’s all or nothing. Have you never heard the saying, all things in moderation?”
“Have you never heard of the saying, those who wear plus fours aren’t qualified to give anyone advice on anything?”
Florence, who had been unusually quiet over breakfast, piped up, “How much longer do you think it will take, Daddy?”
“I’ve already told you, pumpkin, I don’t know. Somewhere between seven to fourteen days, according to the internet.”
“But that’s a really long time.”
“I'm sorry, but there’s nothing Daddy can do about it. Why don’t you go outside and check on them?”
“Okay.” She jumped down from the chair and dashed outside.
“Thanks for telling Florence that I was an expert on caterpillars.” Jack gave me a look.
“Don’t mention it.”
“What are you up to today?”
“I’m going to talk to someone about the motorcycle club murder.”
“Are you going to wear leathers? I bet you’d look good in them.”
“That’s exactly what Winky said.”
“Has there been any word yet on the cat?”
“No, nothing. What if something has happened to him?”
“It won’t have. Winky can look after himself. I would have thought you knew that by now.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I hope.”
***
The Loose Chippings HQ had clearly once been a barn. When I pulled up outside, it was surrounded by at least twenty motorbikes.
Standing outside the double doors was a bunch of bikers. The tallest (and ugliest) of them never took his eyes off me as I crossed the road towards the building.
“Look what we have here, guys.” He sneered. “Little Miss Prim.”
The other men laughed and made comments under their breath.
“I’m here to talk to Mr Rainer.”
“Mr Rainer?” The tall guy scoffed and took a few steps forward until he was right in my face. He had bad breath, and what looked like a home-made tattoo of a snake on his arm. “Why don’t you talk to me? Aren’t I good looking enough for you?”
“I want to speak to Mr Rainer. Get out of my way, please.”
“We’ve got a feisty one here, boys. And what will you do if I don’t get out of your way, honey?”
“I’ll put you on the floor and walk over you.”
They all seemed to find that hilarious.
“Look, honey.” Tall guy put his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t think you—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence because, with the help of the ‘power’ spell, I put him on his back, then walked across his chest and headed for the doors. That seemed to silence the other men who stepped aside.
“Very impressive.” The man who had appeared in the doorway was several years younger than the others. Undeniably handsome, with blond hair that was combed back, he had a huge grin on his face. “Get up, Billy, you’re embarrassing yourself.”
Billy picked himself up, said a few choice words under his breath and walked away.
“I’m looking for Mr Rainer.”
“That’s me, but only my probation officer calls me Mr Rainer. You can call me Slugger. And what should I call you?”
“My name is Jill Maxwell. I’d like to talk to you about Cecil Cole.”
“Killer? What’s your interest in him?”
“I’m a private investigator. I’m looking into his death.”
“A PI, eh? I didn’t realise they came in such pretty packages.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“I was just on my way out.”
“This is important.”
“In that case, why don’t you jump on the bike and we can talk as we ride.”
“On a motorbike?”
“Are you coming or not?” He started towards the row of bikes.
“I don’t have a crash helmet.”
“I’ve got a spare one. Come on.”
If I’d allowed myself time to think it through, I’d have told him no, but it all happened so quickly that the next thing I knew we were speeding down the road. We were able to talk through the comms built into the helmets.
“You okay back there?”
“Not really.”
“Not a biker, then?”
“Definitely not.”
“I apologise for Billy. He’s one heck of a mechanic, but he has a habit of shooting his mouth off.”
“Forget it.”
“Where did you learn to fight like that? Not many guys could put Billy on his back.”
“Can we talk about Killer?”
“Sure, what do you want to know?”
“Did you murder him?”
“Wow!” He laughed. “You get straight to the point, don’t you?”
“Did you?”
“No, I didn’t.” He pulled the bike into a layby where there was yet another roadside café, which was only marginally more salubrious than Big Bessie’s. “Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee.”
Once Slugger had the drinks, we took a seat at one of the plastic tables outside.
“The guys at Wash-on-Wheels are sure you did it,” I said.
“Chains and co? I’d be surprised if they didn’t think that, but they’re wrong. The truth is that Killer and I were good pals. We went back a long way.”
“You can’t have been happy when he jumped ship and joined Wash-on-Wheels?”
“You’re right. I wasn’t, but I understood why he’d done it. Killer wanted to win the competition, but we don’t have the same resources as WOW. Here’s the thing, though, he soon realised that there’s more to life than winning a cup.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wasn’t happy at WOW. He admitted to me that he’d made a mistake, and said he didn’t fit in over there.”
“When was this?”
“A few weeks ago. He asked how I’d feel about him coming back to Loose Chippings.”
“What did you say?”
“That I’d be glad to have him back.”
“Are you telling me Killer planned to quit WOW to re-join your lot?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Billy was there when Killer and I discussed his coming back, but I’m not sure if he’ll be in the mood to talk to you. Not after what you just did to him.” Slugger took a long drink from the mug. “I don’t imagine someone like you slums it like this very often.”
“Then, you’d be wrong. I was in Big Bessie’s only yesterd
ay.”
“I’m impressed. We’ll make a biker of you yet.”
***
My numerous attempts to contact the new landlord had got me precisely nowhere because I couldn’t get past their obnoxious call handling system. It was time for a different approach, so after parking my car in Washbridge, I headed for their offices. Robert Bear & Associates were located on the third floor of Cloverleafs, one of the newest office buildings in Washbridge. The faceless steel and smoked glass structure had been built on the site of the old Washbridge main post office.
The ground floor was taken up with a huge reception area in which there was more foliage than there was in my garden. The two receptionists: one male, one female, looked lost behind the desk which ran the full length of one wall.
“Hi, I’m here to see someone from Robert Bear & Associates.”
“Can I ask your name, please?”
“Jill Maxwell.”
“And the name of the person you have an appointment with?”
“I don’t actually have an appointment.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to work. They don’t usually see anyone without an appointment.”
“Would you give them a call, please?”
“Sure.” She picked up the phone. “Hi, it's Rachel on reception. I have a lady down here without an appointment. She’d like to speak to someone. Yes, that’s what I told her. Okay, thanks.” She ended the call and gave me a shrug.
“I take it that’s a no.”
“Sorry. I did try.”
“Sure.”
If at first you don’t succeed, bring out the magic.
I nipped out of the building, found a secluded spot, made myself invisible, and then headed back inside. I figured I’d probably freak someone out if I called the lift, so instead I waited until someone else did it. I didn’t have to wait long until two young women pressed the ‘Call’ button. When the lift doors opened, I slipped in beside them. Fortunately, they pressed the button for the third floor.
“Have you seen what Carol is wearing?” the first woman said.
“You mean that top?” said the second woman.
“Yeah. Where do you reckon she found it? She must have been to the car boot sale again.”
“What about Linda’s shoes?”
“I know. It wouldn’t be so bad if she could actually walk in them.”
When the doors opened on the third floor, all three of us got out. As we did, another woman walked by.
“Hi, Carol,” the first woman called. “I love your top. Is it new?”
Wow! Just wow!
There were several companies located on that floor; the landlord’s office was the third door I came to. After a quick check to make sure there was no one else in the corridor, I reversed the ‘invisible’ spell, and then walked confidently inside.
Behind a much smaller reception desk sat a young man wearing a blue suit, a brown shirt and a pink tie. Clearly, he did not possess a mirror.
“Can I help you?” He sure managed to pack a whole lot of attitude into those four words.
“I want to see whoever is in charge.”
“May I ask what it’s about?”
“I’ve just received a letter that says my rent is being increased by twenty-five per cent.”
“And?”
“And, it’s outrageous.”
“If you wish to register a complaint there is a formal procedure for doing so.”
“Does that involve me having to listen to the world’s worst hold music and a message telling me how much you value my business? I’ve tried that already, thanks.”
“The complaint procedure is online at our web site. It’s www—”
“I want to speak to a human being, and I want to do it now.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’m the only one here today.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“You don’t, but it happens to be true.”
“Okay. Let’s try this another way. What’s the name of the boss of this organisation?”
“That would be Mr Bear.”
“Robert, I assume?”
“Actually, no. Robert Bear died about six months ago. His son, Edward, has taken over the business.”
“And do you have a phone number for him?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t—”
“Forget it. Thanks for your time.”
***
As I walked back to the office, I considered nipping into Coffee Animal until I saw that the animal of the day was a cat. I was still too upset about Winky to spend half-an-hour surrounded by dozens of moggies.
“Jill! Yoohoo!” Deli shouted from across the road.
There was something different about her, but I couldn’t work out what. It was only when she was standing in front of me that I realised what it was: her lips. They were huge.
“Hi, Deli. How are things?”
“Couldn’t be better, Jill. Couldn’t be better. Have you noticed anything different about me?”
“Your hair is a little shorter.”
“Something else.”
“New shoes?”
“My lips. I’ve got new lips.”
“Oh, right, yeah. They’re very—err—” BIG! “Nice.”
“Thanks. I thought at first that Nails might have overdone it, but I’m getting used to them now, and everyone says they suit me.”
Liars. “They do. Has Nails branched out?”
“He has. Maybe I should call him Lips now.” She laughed. “We’ve had tons of bookings for the new treatment already.” Her gaze shifted to my mouth. “Your lips are a little on the thin side. Have you ever thought of having them done?”
“No. I’m happy with them the way they are.”
“You should be more adventurous, Jill. Give your Jack a surprise.”
I could just imagine what Jack’s reaction would be if I went home with lips the size of life preservers.
“I don’t think so.”
“If it’s the cost, don’t worry. There’s a fifty percent discount for family and friends. I told Madeline yesterday.”
“Is she having hers done?”
“She said she’d think about it.”
I just bet she did.
***
“Any sign of Winky, Mrs V?”
“You’ll be pleased to hear—”
“He’s back?”
“That he’s still missing.”
“Oh.” I sighed.
“I asked Armi about the rent situation last night, Jill.”
“What did he say?”
“That it depends.”
“On what?”
“The terms of your lease. He said if you let him have a copy, he’d take a look through it for you.”
“Right.”
“You do know where the lease is, don’t you?”
“Err, yeah, of course.” I didn’t have the foggiest idea. “I’ll dig it out and let you have it.”
My office seemed so empty without Winky. I missed the banter and his cheeky ways. What if I never saw him again? I checked my email to see if anyone had contacted me about the posts that Mikey had put up, but there was nothing.
“It’s a bit late to be sorry now, isn’t it?”
The little voice seemed to come from my desk, but I couldn’t see anyone. It was only when I got closer that I spotted the small spider.
“Sorry? Were you talking to me?”
“It’s your own fault. You were the one who drove Winky away.”
“Who are you, anyway?”
“Albert.”
“Where did you suddenly pop up from?”
“I’ve lived here for months. Not that you’ve ever noticed. You’re much too preoccupied with yourself.”
“That’s a bit harsh. I can’t be expected to know every insect in the place.”
“Winky did. He took time to get to know us all. We all miss him terribly.”
“I miss him too.”
“If
it wasn’t for you, he’d still be here. How could you accuse him of something like that?”
“I—err—”
“Never mind. I don’t have time to listen to your lame excuses.” And with that, Albert scurried away.
Leaving me feeling even worse.
Chapter 18
I was wondering when the next disgruntled insect might crawl out of the woodwork when my phone rang.
“Jill, I’m sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother, Aunt Lucy, I wasn’t doing anything important.”
“Rhymes has been pestering me all day to call you, to check that you haven’t forgotten you’ve promised to take him to the recital in London.”
I’d been trying very hard to forget about it. “No, of course not. Tell him I’m looking forward to it.”
“He said to tell you it’s the week after next.”
“Don’t worry. It’s in my diary.”
“Great. I’ll tell him. I’d better let you get back to your work.”
“You must be thrilled about the corks.”
“What about them?”
“That everyone will be able to see them in the cork museum.”
“I’m sorry, Jill, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. What cork museum?”
“Didn’t the twins talk to you?”
“I haven’t spoken to them for a couple of days.”
“Oh? Never mind, then. I should get on.”
“Hold on. You can’t leave it like that. What’s all this about a cork museum?”
“It might be better if you heard it from them.”
“Jill!”
“Okay. When I was in Cuppy C yesterday, they told me about their plans for the rooms upstairs.”
“And?”
“And they’re going to open a cork museum. They reckon it will attract corkers from all over Candlefield.”
“I do hate that word.”
“Corkers?”
“Yes. It sounds ridiculous. Sorry, you were saying.”
“Just that they plan to open a cork museum and that they were going to—err—hoping to put all of your corks on display.”
“Are they now? And yet, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“I’m sure that’s just an oversight on their part. They definitely told me they were going to give you a call.”
“I’ll look forward to that. Thanks for the tip-off. Bye, Jill.”
