The Fashion Police (Amber Fox Mystery No 1)

by Sibel Hodge

  ‘Hello.’ Dad walked in wearing brown leggings and a green T-shirt with fabric camouflage netting draped around him, complete with individual little material leaves sewn on.

  I did a quick double-take.

  ‘I thought you said you wouldn’t be back for hours,’ Mum said as Dad kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘I wanted to catch Amber,’

  ‘Why are you dressed like a tree?’ I said.

  ‘I’m doing a stakeout in the park. Some little blighters have been vandalizing the children’s play area.’ He did a twirl. ‘I made this myself. Pretty good, isn’t it?’

  I nodded because I didn’t really know what to say to that. ‘Have you caught anyone?’ I asked him.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Did you want to see me about something?’ I said.

  ‘I wanted to tell you that I spoke to the Chief Constable today at the golf club.’

  That made my ears prick up. Ultimately, the Chief Constable was the person with the power to give me my old job back. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He told me that he’s getting pressure from the government to solve this Fandango case. I’m certain he’ll give you your old job back if you crack it before that nutcase, Janice Skipper.’

  I didn’t really know if Dad was actually qualified to call someone else a nutcase when he was dressed up like a tree, but never mind. Janice was indeed a nutcase, and that was erring on the side of a polite description.

  ‘He told me that the Cohen boys torched their warehouse today,’ Dad said.

  I mumbled something non-committal.

  ‘Brad won’t be too pleased if he’s got to pay out the insurance. How’s it going, working for him?’ Dad said.

  I stole a glance at Mum. ‘It’s complicated.’ I kissed them both and turned to leave. I’d just got to the front door when I stopped dead as a thought occurred to me. I retraced my steps back into the kitchen. ‘Dad, how did you know I was here?’

  He gave me a sly grin. ‘I have Amber radar.’

  Ten minutes later, I sat in the Lemon, which I’d parked a few doors down from Paul Clark’s house. Since I’d already stuffed up the Cohens’ warehouse today, I was determined to close the Clark file. Although technically the warehouse probably would’ve been torched anyway, I didn’t think I’d be getting an employee of the month badge for my part. I slouched down in the seat and waited.

  It had just gone five-thirty when a blue van pulled onto Clark’s drive. Clutching the camera in anticipation, I inched upwards in my seat.

  Paul Clark jumped out of the van and walked around to the rear doors. As he pulled the doors open, I aimed my camera and carried on watching through the viewfinder. The top half of him disappeared as he leaned into the van, pulling something heavy toward him.

  And then bingo! David Bailey, eat your heart out.

  Snap: A picture of Clark, straining under the weight of a washing machine he’d just maneuvered out of the van onto his forearms.

  Snap: A picture of Clark, staggering up the drive as he carried the washing machine.

  Snap: A picture of a red-faced Clark, huffing and puffing, as his torso teetered backwards at a forty-five degree angle with the washing machine resting precariously in his hands.

  I should’ve been pleased with the result, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how his injury claim being rejected would impact on Mrs. Clark and her mid-life nervous crisis. Then again, we all make choices in life. It’s just that sometimes we don’t always make good ones, and we have to live with the consequences of our actions.

  I waited until Clark had disappeared into the house. Then I stuffed two hundred pounds in an envelope for the damage to their window and scrawled Mrs. Clark’s name on it. I snuck up their path and posted it through their letterbox, scurrying back down the path before I got caught.

  I was just about to dig the key into the Lemon’s ignition when my phone rang.

  ‘Amber, it’s Samantha. I’m at the police station. They’ve just arrested me for killing Umberto and Heather. I don’t know what to…’ Her voice cracked as if the strain was too much, and she fell silent.

  I stiffened. Damn Janice Skipper. ‘OK, I’m on my way.’

  24

  I rushed into the police and bumped slap bang into Romeo. My heart sank to my stomach and flew back up again. I thought I might actually be sick from guilt.

  ‘Hey, darling.’ He smiled at me.

  I pushed down the nausea, trying my best non-guilty looking smile. ‘Hey!’

  He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my earlobe as he whispered in my ear. ‘My case should be finished in a few days. I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with you.’

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I carried on smiling.

  He pulled away slightly, examining me with his warm eyes. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Of course.’ I smiled wider and flashed my white enamels, conscious that I probably looked like some kind of cheesy commercial for toothpaste.

  ‘Are you here to see Janice?’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

  ‘I’ll tell her you’re here.’ He grabbed hold of me, squeezing me to him tightly, and planted a kiss on my lips.

  I relaxed into his warm body as a tingling sensation ran right through me.

  ‘Ahem.’ Someone coughed behind us.

  We pulled apart and I saw Janice Skipper’s eyes drilling into me.

  ‘You’ve got work to do,’ she said to Romeo.

  He rolled his eyes at me, said goodbye, and sauntered out to the parking lot.

  Janice folded her arms and stared at me. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing here. I think you should be busy writing out your resignation at this point.’

  ‘And why is that, Janice?’

  ‘Because I’ve already cracked the case.’

  ‘You’ve arrested the wrong person.’

  She snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Samantha James is in custody because she’s a murderer. She hired a hit-man to shoot Fandango at his office and hide the body somewhere.’

  ‘No, she didn’t. And you’ve got no evidence to prove it. Don’t do this, you’ll regret it.’

  She waved a dismissive hand. ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do. Now, is that all? I’m a very busy person.’

  ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘Not a chance. Chop-chop, and start writing out your resignation.’ She stalked off, leaving me standing there with steam about to gush out of my ears.

  I turned to leave and felt a tap on my shoulder. Swinging around, I expected to see the return of the Wicked Witch, but it was Carol Blake.

  ‘Hi.’ Her eyes darted around, making sure Janice was out of earshot before they settled back on me. She pulled me outside where the walls didn’t have ears. ‘I’ve found something interesting. The bullets we found at Fandango’s office had the same striation patterns as the one used to kill Heather.’

  ‘So the same bullets were used in both crimes. Have you got any idea of what type of gun was used?’

  ‘A revolver.’

  ‘Right, so we just need to find the gun.’

  ****

  I dragged my aching, smoky body through my front door later that night. I was dying for a shower, and was heading toward the bathroom when my front door burst open with a wrenching noise and crashed against the wall.

  I spun around to see Tracy standing in the doorway with a weird look on his face. I wasn’t quite sure if he was giving me an evil super-villain grin, or whether he was in the middle of having a stroke. Either way, it was slightly disconcerting because he pointed his gun at me again. This time I got a good look at it.

  With a low growl, he rushed toward me.

  I swung my ass around, running toward the bathroom. I was almost there, too, when he grabbed hold of my hair, yanking me backwards.

  ‘Argh!’ I fully intended to go through my vast repertoire of various shrieks and yells, but u
nfortunately Tracy clamped a hand over my mouth at that point.

  Fear gripped at my stomach like a hand, squeezing the breath out of me.

  ‘Are you going to come quietly?’ he said, relaxing his grip slightly so I could speak through the gaps in between his fingers.

  ‘Now, now, that’s not the kind of thing you say to a lady,’ I managed to squeak.

  ‘You ain’t no lady. I’m taking you to see my boss.’

  ‘I can’t go.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m washing my hair tonight.’ Then I realized that the chances of me being alive long enough to ever wash my hair again were about as likely as winning the lottery. All the blood instantly drained from my face and rushed to my extremities.

  He peered at my hair. ‘You need to.’

  I stomped on his foot and tried to wrench myself free.

  He increased the tightness of his grip around me, so I couldn’t elbow him in any painful areas.

  ‘What does your boss want?’ Maybe I could keep him talking and try to figure a way out of this.

  ‘You’ve been poking your nose in where it doesn’t concern you, and you’ve got something he wants.’

  ‘What, genital warts?’ I said.

  ‘You’ve got…er genital warts?’

  ‘Yes, and they’re very contagious. You can catch them from just touching someone who’s got them.’

  I felt Tracy’s grip loosen at that little revelation. I writhed around, trying to get away from him before he regained his vice-like grip again.

  ‘Where is it?’ he said.

  ‘I thought we’d already been through this before. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go on, ask me a question. You can ask me anything you like. I bet I don’t know the answer.’

  He was just about to turn around and drag me toward the front door when Tia silently appeared behind him with my huge terracotta plant pot in her hands, raised above her head.

  Crack! She smashed the pot over his head.

  His eyes rolled back into their sockets as he slumped to the floor, banging his head again in the process.

  ‘Wowee!’ Tia said as we stood over him. ‘I’ve never hit someone before.’

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s a bit accident prone anyway.’ I gave him a quick dig in the ribs with my foot. He didn’t even flinch.

  ‘What are we going to do with him?’

  ‘Did you see a white SUV in the parking lot with an ugly fat guy in it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s his girlfriend,’ I said. I doubted if Sally was capable of using a gun without killing himself. He seemed a bit too high strung to me, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I stuffed Tracy’s gun in my pocket. We could always dump Tracy next to the SUV and gently persuade Sally to get lost with a little firepower. ‘Come on, you take his arms, I’ll take his legs.’

  We dragged him into the lift and out the communal door to the parking lot, banging his head a few times on the floor in the process.

  ‘He weighs a ton,’ Tia said.

  ‘Too many steroids. I bet his nuts have shrunk too, especially since they’ve been on fire.’ I allowed myself a little chuckle.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Never mind.’ I smirked.

  I could see Sally sitting in the SUV, listening to opera music full blast, miming conductor actions to himself. We approached the car from Sally’s blind spot and left Tracy next to the rear passenger door. Retrieving the revolver from my pocket, I walked around to Sally’s door and pulled it open, pointing the gun at him.

  ‘What the fuck!’ Sally stared down the barrel of the gun.

  ‘Have you got a gun?’ I asked him.

  ‘No, I’m not allowed one. It’s not fair, Tracy get’s to carry one,’ he whined. ‘Where is Tracy anyway?’

  I tilted my head toward the back of the SUV. ‘Over there. Now, you’re going to get out nice and slowly, put your girlfriend in the car, and drive off. OK?’

  ‘Huh? I lost you after the first instruction.’

  ‘Are you an idiot?’

  Sally looked confused at that.

  I sighed. ‘It’s OK, you don’t have to answer that. I think I know the answer.’ I beckoned him out with the barrel of the gun. ‘Out.’

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean, no? I’ve got a gun.’

  ‘I know, but if I get out you’ll shoot me.’

  ‘Newsflash! If you don’t get out, I’ll shoot you, how about that?’ I waggled the gun at him. ‘I’m a good shot too. I once shot someone in the ass.’ Not that I was proud of it, but Sally wasn’t to know that.

  ‘Oh, shit. I don’t wanna get shot in the ass. You might miss and shoot me in the nuts instead. You’ve got a thing about nuts.’

  I took a step back as Sally squeezed himself through the door and waddled around to Tracy. ‘Jesus lady, you’ve killed him!’

  ‘No, he’s just going to have a bit of a headache. Again,’ I said.

  Sally wrestled Tracy into the back of the SUV. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Now drive off and don’t come back,’ I said.

  Sally shook his head as he squashed his gut behind the steering wheel. ‘My boss isn’t going to like this.’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know. Have a nice day, now.’

  Tia and I watched until we saw them safely disappear into the distance.

  ‘You need to get out of here in case they come back,’ I told Tia.

  ‘OK. I just wanted to tell you that the police rang to tell me they’d arrested Samantha.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you think she did it? Do you think she killed my dad?’

  ‘No.’ I squeezed her arm. ‘Now, go.’

  ‘Do you want to come back to my place and lay low?’

  ‘Thanks, but I need some time to think.’

  After I was sure Tia had left, I ran back up to my apartment. I checked to make sure Marmalade was OK, and since the door would still close, I decided to leave him in the apartment. I fed him then stuffed a few things in an overnight bag and scampered out to my car without having a clue where I was going.

  I waited at a set of traffic lights, tapping on the steering wheel, wondering what to do. I could go to Romeo’s house, but if he returned unexpectedly things could get a bit awkward. He’d know something was wrong, and I would have to explain that I’d done something inexcusable. I could go to Brad’s, but I might end up doing the nasty thing again, and that would make things even more complicated. I could go to Tia’s, but I needed some time to myself to think.

  No, don’t think. If I didn’t think about it, maybe it would mean that nothing really happened with Brad. If I didn’t think about it, maybe I could develop selective denial, burying the information somewhere in my brain where I’d never find it again.

  Bollocks. What to do? What should I do?

  I sat, head tilted to one side, waiting for everything to disintegrate out of my brain. Nope, it wasn’t working. I couldn’t bloody stop thinking about it.

  A lorry behind me, laden with beer barrels, sounded his horn as the lights changed from red to green. I pulled off, deciding at that second to spend the night at a hotel, so I could not think about what I was thinking about in peace.

  I couldn’t afford the plush, expensive kind like Hanbury Manor, so I checked myself into the cheap kind, which was stuck in a 1970s décor time warp.

  I peeked out of my room’s window. There was a tiny balcony outside, just wide enough to stand on as long as you were slim. I closed the curtains and checked out the ancient bathroom. There were lime scale streaks everywhere. Lovely. It looked like the cleaners had done the best with what they had, but they hadn’t bothered to remove a toiletry bag that had been left on the side of the bath. As nosy was my middle name, I unzipped it and peered inside at a bottle of contact lens cleaner, a plastic contact lens storage pot, some saline drops, a tube of toothpaste, and some hemorrhoid cream. Boring. I’d been secretly hoping it might be full to t
he brim with something exciting, like cash, for instance, or failing that, chocolate.

  OK, first up on my list of priorities was some food, followed by a long, hot shower. I ordered a chicken burger, chips, and a bottle of red wine, then stood under the steaming shower. A groan escaped me as I savored the soothing feeling of the hot water spraying down onto my tense shoulders.

  I padded back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, which was so small that it could’ve doubled as a postage stamp. The heating had suddenly sprung to life in the bedroom, turning the room into a sauna. I’d just opened the French windows on the balcony to prevent keeling over from heat exhaustion when I heard a knock at the door, and a male voice announced the arrival of my food.

  ‘Just leave it outside, please.’ Giving him a minute to disappear, I poked an eyeball around the door. Phew, coast clear. I yanked the door open, expecting my food to be on a tray beside my door. Instead, the idiotic man had left it practically half a mile away. I tiptoed up the corridor and then almost jumped out of my postage stamp when I heard the door slam shut behind me.

  Why me? Why do these things always happen to me? I rolled my eyes up to the heavens.

  I stood there, debating this little conundrum. I could go down to the front desk, flashing off my nether regions, and get someone to let me back in, giving them a good eyeful or a heart attack in the process. Or I could hope that I had a discreet next door neighbor who’d let me climb over their balcony.

  No contest. I knocked on the door to the right of my room, shivering in the freezing hallway. God, it was bum-numbingly cold. They had a serious problem with temperature control in this building.

  ‘Ah!’ A little old lady opened the door and gasped at the sight of me.

  ‘Hello.’ I gave her my best non-nutcase smile. ‘Sorry to be a pain, but I’ve locked myself out. Can I just climb over your balcony and get back into my room please?’

  She jabbered away in German to me with a frown on her face.

  ‘Ya,’ I said, which is the only bit of German I knew.

  The woman waved her arms around as her voice went from loud to shrieking volume. I made frantic pointing gestures toward her balcony. After a few moments of finger action, I think she got the drift.