by Adele Abbott
He shrugged.
I’d had my fill of creepy for one day, so I made my excuses and left.
***
I was on my way back to the office when I got a call from Pearl. At least, I thought it was Pearl, but she was speaking so quietly that I could barely hear her.
“What did you say? Can you speak up a bit?”
“I said.” She was still whispering. “That guy from Candlefield Icons is in here.”
“Songspinner?”
“You’ll have to be quick, though, he only ordered a small Cappuccino.”
“I’ll be straight over.”
Seated next to the window, Songspinner was wearing a white suit, white panama, and an obscene amount of gold on his fingers. He was so busy staring out of the window that he didn’t notice me as I approached his table.
“Mr Songspinner?”
“At your service, gorgeous. Why don’t you pull up a chair?”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry. Have we met?”
“No, we haven’t.”
“Your face seems familiar. Are you sure you weren’t at Candlefield Races last month?”
“Positive. I do know how you know my face, though. Think t-shirts.”
“Sorry?”
“Or mouse mats. Scarves, towels, water-bottles.”
“You’ve lost me now.”
“You are the owner of Candlefield Icons, aren’t you?”
“I am indeed. Have you visited the shop?”
“I was in there the other day. Your delightful assistant, Vannie, was kind enough to show me the merchandise.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“In a manner of speaking. In fact, I found a mountain of stuff all with my picture on it.”
“Oh?” The penny, if rather belatedly, appeared to have dropped. “Aren’t you—err—”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry, Magna. I didn’t recognise you.”
“I’m not Magna Mondale! She’s dead. I’m Jill Maxwell formerly Jill Gooder.”
“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you face to face.”
“Is it, though? Really?”
“Absolutely. Maybe I could persuade you to drop by the shop sometime, to sign some of the t-shirts.”
This guy really was taking the mickey. “Yeah, I won’t be doing that. I will, however, be popping around to collect my royalties.”
“What royalties?”
“The ones you owe me for using my likeness all over your merchandise.”
“I don’t pay royalties.”
“You do now. The only question is how much.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Tell me, Sylvester, why did you choose to print my image on your merchandise?”
“Because you’re the most powerful witch in Candlefield.”
“That’s right. And that’s precisely why you won’t refuse to pay me royalties.” I stood up. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
Chapter 6
After Sylvester Songspinner had stormed out of Cuppy C, Pearl came over to join me.
“How did it go, Jill? Is he going to start paying you royalties?”
“If he knows what’s good for him, he will, yeah.”
“You’ll be rich; you’ll be able to retire.”
“That would be nice, but I’d better not count my chickens.”
“I didn’t realise you kept them.”
“Kept what?”
“Chickens.”
“I don’t.”
“You just said that you weren’t going to count them?”
“I—err—never mind. Have you ordered your uniforms yet?”
“We have.”
“What colour did you and Amber settle on?”
“We didn’t actually manage to agree on a colour. Do you like turquoise, Jill?”
“I do, actually.”
“Me too. I suggested we should make the uniforms turquoise.”
“I take it Amber didn’t agree?”
“She wanted pink.”
“Pink uniforms might look nice, I suppose,” said Jill Maxwell, the diplomat.
“I disagree. They’d portray altogether the wrong image.”
“If you couldn’t agree on the colour, what have you ordered?”
“Half pink and half turquoise.”
“I suppose that’s a reasonable compromise. How many in total have you ordered?”
“Eight, I think. They should be here on Monday.”
“I look forward to seeing them.”
***
I was sure Jack was worrying over nothing, but I’d promised I’d nip over to GT, to check if Yvonne was alright. I deliberately hadn’t had anything to eat in Cuppy C because I wanted to see if Cakey C were maintaining the high standard that they’d set on launch day.
I was rather surprised to find my mother serving behind the counter—I’d assumed she intended to be strictly hands-off. I was even more surprised to see who was working alongside her. Judging by how flustered she looked, Yvonne was new to the job.
“Morning, darling.” Mum leaned across the counter and gave me a hug. “This is a nice surprise.”
“How long has Yvonne been working here?”
Jack’s mother was currently staring at the coffee machine and looking rather confused.
“She started a couple of days ago,” Mum said, and then realised Yvonne was struggling. “It’s the third button on the right.”
“Thanks. Oh, hello, Jill.”
“Hi.” I turned back to my mother. “Would it be okay if I borrowed your new assistant for a few minutes?”
“Sure. She’s due a break anyway.”
Five minutes later, Yvonne and I were enjoying coffee and cake together. Just for the record, the cakes were still up to standard.
“I didn’t expect to find you working behind the counter.”
“I’m a little surprised myself. I’ve never done anything like this before, but I’m sure you’d already worked that out for yourself.” She smiled. “That coffee machine is so complicated.”
“I know what you mean. I struggled when I first operated one of those, but I soon got the hang of it.”
What? I’ll have you know I’m now an accomplished barista, just ask anyone. Except Amber or Pearl.
“Jack mentioned that you hadn’t been in touch for a few days.”
“He hasn’t been worried, has he?”
“A little, maybe. You know what men are like.”
“I should have told him about my new job, but it all happened so quickly. I was just having a drink with Rhona—she’s one of my neighbours—when your mother mentioned she was looking for someone else to work behind the counter. Next thing I knew, I’d agreed to do it. I told your mother that I didn’t have any experience, but she said I’d soon get up to speed.” Yvonne glanced over to the counter. “She’s probably beginning to regret that decision now she’s seen how hopeless I am.”
“Don’t be silly. I hope she didn’t pressure you into taking the job?”
“Not at all. I’ve been looking for something to occupy myself with, and the extra money will come in handy. Tell Jack I’ll be in touch soon, will you?”
“Of course. He’ll be fine once I’ve explained what you’re doing.”
She finished the last of her coffee. “I’d better get back to work. I don’t want to get sacked in my first week.”
I was just about to leave too when Mad called to me from a table across the room. She must have come in while I was chatting.
“Isn’t that Jack’s mother?”
“Yeah. She’s just started here. I don’t envy her, working for my mother.”
“Do you want to join me, or do you have to shoot off?”
“I can stay for a few minutes.”
“Do you want another drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.” I gestured towards the huge brown file on the table. “It looks like you’re busy.”
“My feet
have barely touched the ground since I moved back to Washbridge. I’m beginning to wonder if I made the right decision. The extra money is nice, but so was having a life.”
“You’ll be fine once you’re properly settled in. What’s in the file?”
“This is just one of the cases I’m working on at the moment. It’s a bit of a weird one, to say the least.” Mad glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then took a handful of photographs from the file and placed them on the table.
“Who are they? What have they done?”
“They haven’t done anything—except to go missing, that is. There’s another dozen in the file, all of whom have disappeared within the last month.”
“Disappeared, as in?”
“As in gone missing without a trace. They all have families here in GT, none of whom have a clue what’s happened to their loved ones.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“We’ve got absolutely nothing. As far as I can tell, there is no obvious pattern.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I wish there was, but I can’t think of anything at the moment. Anyway, enough of my problems. How’s that new car of yours?” She laughed.
“Is there anyone who hasn’t heard about that?”
“I seriously doubt it. You have to admit that you did rather set yourself up for a fall this time.”
“I know. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“What are you doing for transport now?”
“Fortunately, I managed to get my old car back. I exchanged the clown course vouchers for it.”
“I’m really glad I have you as a friend, Jill.”
“That’s a very sweet thing to say.”
“But only because when I see what an absolute train wreck your life is, I realise I’m doing okay after all.”
“Hmm.”
***
Winky had company.
The sweet old lady-cat was dressed in tweed. I was just about to introduce myself when she spoke to me.
“Get me another bowl, would you? And make sure it’s clean. This one is disgusting.”
For Winky’s sake, I bit my tongue, and passed her a bowl from the cupboard. “There you go.”
“Is this the best salmon you could find? The quality really does leave a lot to be desired.”
I could feel my blood pressure rising, and Winky wasn’t helping matters with that stupid grin on his face. Still, I felt I owed it to him to at least make the effort.
“I should introduce myself. I’m Jill Maxwell. I—”
“I know who you are. You’re the two-legged who my nephew generously allows to share his office.”
His office? “Hold on. Did you just say—”
“Come on, Aunt.” Winky grabbed her paw. “I promised I’d show you the sights.”
And with that, the two of them disappeared out of the window.
He and I would be having words later.
Mrs V was tapping away on the typewriter, her hands and face still speckled with Liquid Paper.
“Are you sure the typewriter was a good idea, Mrs V?”
“I think so. I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it again soon.”
“Okay. I’m just nipping out to see the Penguins.”
“A trip to the zoo? Lucky you. It’s ages since I’ve been there.”
“Not real penguins. It’s the case Victor Duyew came to see me about. His junior football team is called the Washbridge Penguins.”
“I see. Has Kathy set a date to move into her new house?”
“Unless there’s a last-minute hitch, they’ll be moving in on Saturday.”
“How exciting for them.”
“How’s your house-hunting going?”
“Don’t ask.”
“You mustn’t become despondent. You’ll find the right property eventually.”
“We may already have found it. At least, Armi seems to think so.”
“Oh? Either you don’t share his enthusiasm or you’re hiding it really well.”
“I don’t, but how can I tell him that, Jill? He has his heart set on this place.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
She reached into her handbag and produced a photo. “See for yourself.”
“Oh dear.” I laughed. “Sorry. It looks like—err—”
“A giant cuckoo clock? I know.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“I wish it was. The house belongs to a member of the Cuckoo Clock Appreciation Society. He thought it would be a good idea to turn his property into this monstrosity.”
“Is he married?”
“He wasn’t when he did that to the house. The man was a confirmed bachelor until he met someone earlier this year.”
“Which is presumably why he’s selling it.”
“He denies it, but quite obviously that is the reason.”
“Have you told Armi how you feel about the house?”
“I don’t have the heart to, Jill. He’s fallen madly in love with it.”
“He may have, but you both have to live there. You have to say something.”
“You’re right. I’ll tell him how I feel tonight.”
“Make sure you do.”
***
This couldn’t possibly be it, could it?
The Penguins’ ground was located in Greater Wash. I’d expected it to be a playing field with maybe a couple of Portakabins: One for the shop, the other for changing rooms.
Boy, was I wrong!
Whilst not exactly Premier League standard, it wouldn’t have disgraced most non-league clubs. There were standing areas on three sides of the ground, and a smaller stand with seats, on the fourth side.
A man in overalls, with a penguin logo on the back, was sweeping the path.
“Excuse me.”
“Are you looking for the shop, love?”
“Err, yeah, but could I ask you a couple of questions first?”
“Fire away. I’ll help if I can.” He pointed to his small name badge. “I’m Albert.”
“This is where the Washbridge Penguins play, isn’t it?”
“That’s correct.”
“Right.” I took another look at the stadium, trying to make some sense of what I was seeing.
“Is something wrong, love?”
“Well, no, yeah. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting anything quite as grand as this.”
“No one ever does. You should see the look on the visiting team’s faces when they first play here.”
“I can’t understand how a junior football club could generate enough money to pay for anything like this.”
“They can’t. The gate receipts wouldn’t keep me in overalls.”
“So, how does it work?”
“It’s all down to Frank Royston. He paid for everything.” The man’s pocket buzzed, and he took out his phone. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
“No problem. Thanks.”
The souvenir shop was deserted except for the woman behind the counter.
“Hi!” She seemed surprised to see someone walk through the door.
“You’re doing a brisk trade, I see.”
She smiled. “You’re only my second customer of the day.”
“Doesn’t it get rather boring?”
“It can do, but I’m a big fan of the Penguins, so I don’t mind.” She took out her phone. “That’s my Ben. He’s a defender.”
“He’s a handsome little chap. I assume you work here as a volunteer?”
“Yes, a lot of the parents take turns on a rota basis. I do most Wednesdays and the occasional Friday. Were you looking for anything in particular?” She spread her arms. “We have lots of merchandise to choose from, as you can see.”
“I’ve actually been hired by Victor Duyew.” I glanced at the shelves. “I didn’t think there’d be any penguin soft toys left after the theft, but you still seem to have plenty.”
“Only the regular ones. The thieves
took all the premium ones.”
“Premium?”
“They only produce a limited number of those, and they have to be reserved before collection.”
“What’s the difference between the regular ones and the premium ones?”
“I probably shouldn’t say this, but I can’t tell the difference. The stuffing on the premium ones is perhaps a little more substantial, but that’s about it. I have to be really careful not to get them mixed up.”
“Are they popular, the premium ones?”
“Very. They always sell very quickly.”
“To kids mainly, I assume.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But we get all kinds of people buying them. In fact, I’d say that we sell most of them to adults. I suppose they could be taking them home for their kids.”
“How did the thieves get in?”
“They rammed the door.”
“I see you have CCTV.”
“Yes, but it didn’t help because they were wearing masks, and they used a stolen car.”
“And they only took the premium penguins?”
“That’s right.”
***
In order to prepare for the big move on Saturday, Kathy was only working mornings that week—nice work if you can get it!
As I’d finished a little early, I decided to call in, to see if I could help.
What? Why wouldn’t I help my sister? Sheesh!
“Jill? What are you doing here?”
“I came to see if I could help with anything.”
She laughed. “No, seriously, why are you here?”
“This is precisely why I don’t try to be nice. It always gets thrown back in my face.”
“I’m sorry. Come on in. There’s plenty of stuff that needs packing into boxes, you could help with that if you like?”
“Shall I start with the ornaments?”
“No!” She yelled. “It might be best if you started with something—err—else. Why don’t you go and find Pete? He’s upstairs. He’ll tell you what you can do.”
Two hours later, and I was beginning to think that this whole good Samaritan thing was overrated. My back was killing me, and I was exhausted.
“I’d better get going. Jack should just about have dinner ready by the time I get back.”
