Old Age Private Oh My! (Old Age Pensioner Investigations (OAPI) Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by A. W. Blakely

  "So, you knew the deceased, Charlie and Robert? May I ask how?" Stanley was unsure how much he could ask without it seeming too personal, and Mack was giving off a vibe like usual, even in his budgie smugglers.

  "They have done some work for me over the years. Very good work too, I might add."

  "Oh, er, okay."

  "Did they do hits? Take out the competition?" Spider put a hand to his mouth, realizing what he'd said.

  "Hits? Whatever makes you think I would hire hitmen? To kill who? The local vicar?" Mack didn't seem put out or surprised by the question, which to Stanley was a red flag. You don't normally get accused of hiring hitmen. Normal people don't, at any rate.

  "Well, you know, because you're a gangster. Right, Uncle Stan?"

  "Quiet, Spider, don't be so rude. Sorry about the lad, Mack, he's a bit of a muppet really."

  "Oi!"

  "Haha, not at all. And to answer your question, young man. No, I did not hire them to kill people, I hired them for work of a much less exciting nature. And I am not a gangster. I am a retired man who happens to have a few business interests that continue to support me and my wife, that's all."

  Stanley didn't believe a word of it.

  "Is there anything you can tell us that would help?" asked Stanley. "Why do you think they were murdered? And why were their fingerprints on your van? More to the point, why the van at all? It's not your usual vehicle, is it?" Stanley thought about the flash sports car and the even more flash Bentley in the drive. Why would someone like that have a white van, unless it was for "dodgy stuff," as Spider would put it?

  "They were... Now, how shall I put this? They were criminal types, I suppose, but not bad men, just seemed to enjoy things that could get them into trouble. Definitely like father, like son, in this case. But doing something to get themselves murdered, that doesn't seem like them at all. I have no idea why anyone would want to kill them. They were harmless enough. Why they had their fingerprints on my van I do not know, it's most odd. And the van, it's for my wife's dog shows. You would not believe how much equipment you have to transport for these things, even if it is for a chihuahua. I bought it years ago so I don't get dog hair and a mess in the Bentley. I guess I grew attached to it. You know how it is."

  "Sure," said Kate, obviously thinking about her beat-up Mini Cooper.

  "Oh, makes sense. I guess that's it, Mack, thank you for your time." Stanley noted that Mack was covered in goosebumps—the sun was behind a cloud and the temperature dropped quite suddenly.

  "My pleasure, Stanley. Oh, one thing I will add. Don't get into this too deep, Stanley. Especially not with your daughter and your nephew with you. This is murder, after all, meaning it's dangerous. Be careful not to tread on too many toes." Mack nodded at them each in turn methodically, like it was a solemn occasion, and then he was gone. There was a splash as he returned to the pool and continued his exercise.

  "Let's get out of here," said Kate with a shake. "That man gives me the creeps."

  "Good idea," said Stanley.

  "Think we can use his pool?" said Spider.

  "No, definitely not. Come on, we still have things to do and people to see."

  They were quiet as they settled into the car. Stanley thought back on the conversation, wondering, as he did every time he spoke to Mack, why he felt so uncomfortable and if not intimidated then certainly a little out-of-sorts. What was it about the man? He was polite, never said anything untoward. That was it, he was too polite. As if he was playing at having impeccable manners. Hiding something.

  But what?

  Slumlord

  "Where to now?" asked Kate after she finished scribbling in her notebook.

  "I think we should pay the landlord a visit," said Stanley. He felt bad for not dealing with the issue of the house Pam and Spider had been forced to leave, and knew he should do something about it.

  "That man is so horrible. He's like a leech, taking Mum's money for rent and never doing anything to repair the house," moaned Spider. "But what's the point, Uncle Stan? He'll just annoy me and it's too late now. Mum's got the new place lined up, so it's all good."

  "The point is that I want to talk to him, and I want to help you and your mum out. Plus, I need to have a word about the boiler. He can't let anyone else move in with it like that. It needs to be fixed, properly. And there are a few other things I want to talk to him about." Stanley knew it would make no difference to Pam or Spider, but he couldn't live with himself if somebody died because of the boiler, even if it wasn't down to him to deal with it.

  There was something else too, he just wasn't quite sure what. There was this niggling at the back of his mind, telling him to pay the man a visit. He knew himself well enough not to ignore such things.

  While Kate got the address and set off, Stanley made a few phone calls to take his mind off his impending death by daughter's driving, and it had the added bonus of making Spider be quiet and stop bouncing his seat around.

  He ended up getting Mike, a lad from the village that worked at the local greengrocer's. He had use of the van and said he could go after his early shift the following day to load up with everything from the house. That sounded perfect to Stanley, as it meant the whole sorry episode could be done with and Pam could move on. Only problem was where to store it all?

  Mike said he could leave it in the stock bay. It was a large space used for daily perishables and for seasonal produce that got bought in bulk, and there was plenty of room at the moment. Then, when Pam's new home was ready, he would deliver it.

  It sounded perfect to Stanley, even if Pam and Spiders' things might end up smelling of potatoes. It was better than it stinking of mold as far as he was concerned. And besides, Mike was cheap and they wouldn't have to pay to hire a van or have the hassle of collecting and returning it with any kind of deadline.

  "After we've met the landlord, we'll call it a day, I think," said Stanley, trying to wiggle his bum into a comfortable position in the cramped car.

  "You okay? Hip playing up?"

  "A little. I've been sitting too long and I'm out of practice at getting in and out so much in one day. Anyway, we need to mull over what we've discovered."

  "Which isn't much," said Kate. "What next?"

  "I'm not sure, which is why we may as well call it a day on the case. Still, it's a start." Stanley was a little disappointed with not finding out more, but this was a serious business and he couldn't be expected to solve it in a single day.

  He also needed a rethink. Mack was right about one thing—it could be dangerous. If anything happened to Kate or Spider he would never forgive himself. Could they all really be in danger? And why did it feel like a threat from Mack? He hadn't actually said it in that way, had he?

  The day needed time to percolate. To filter into his subconscious and come out with some meaning. So far all he had done was meet the man who had the van stolen and the one that found it. They'd been to the crime scene but it told them little. Where to from here? Stanley really wasn't sure. Should they try to get information from the police? But if they had made little progress what would be the point?

  No, go see the landlord, go home, have dinner, let everything seep into his subconscious and maybe tomorrow he would have a fresh take on things. That, or he'd have nothing and would give up before he'd even started. Stanley wouldn't give up, he'd solve this double murder and crack the case.

  Rather Unexpected

  Stanley had envisioned some kind of slick shark, all blinding white teeth and expensive haircut. A man that lived in a posh part of town in a flash house and would be all suited and booted, not residing in a rundown area where refuse overflowed from weed-infested tiny front yards. The whole street looked like it was ready to be condemned.

  When the landlord opened a front door in serious need of a paint job, if not total replacement, Stanley was at a loss for words. Could this be him? Was this the ruthless landlord that drove Pam and Spider out of their home and was playing games with them while putting
up the rent to astronomical prices?

  "Yes, what can I do for you?" asked a thin man with a pot belly, wearing a grubby white vest. His face was shiny, like it was greasy, yet nowhere near as slick as his long, straggly black hair. Aromas of fried food and musty uncleanliness flooded out of the door and hit Stanley like a smack across the head with a wet kipper—a very old and stinky one.

  "This is him?" said Stanley turning to Spider, who sneered at the landlord then nodded to Stanley.

  "Yeah, this is him."

  "Spider? What are you doing hiding behind this man? And who is this?" Kate pushed the broken gate closed behind her, but it swung open and nearly caught Roobarb on the behind.

  "You tried to kill us, didn't you? And you made us move. You made Mum cry and you did it all on purpose."

  Stanley put a hand to Spider's arm to quiet him and said to the landlord, "May we come in? This is a matter of life and death."

  "I don't know what this is all about, but if it's because of the rent then I told your mum already, Spider. There's nothing I can do about it. I have my own problems. I can't go subsidizing tenants."

  "Liar."

  "Spider, that's enough," warned Stanley. "So, can we come in?"

  "Fine, suit yourselves. But I don't want any trouble." With that, the landlord turned and shuffled down a dark hallway. Stanley could see from the doorway that the carpet was ancient and threadbare, and certainly hadn't been cleaned lately. What was he doing with the money he made from his property?

  Turning to Kate and Spider, he said, "Wait here, I won't be long. No, no arguments. I don't want this getting out of hand. Kate, make sure Spider stays outside. Why don't you take Roobarb to that park we just passed? I'll meet you there."

  "Okay, Dad, if you're sure?" Kate could tell Stanley wanted to avoid Spider getting any more upset, but she was also clearly as intrigued by the unexpected situation as her father.

  "I'm sure. I'll tell you what happens later. Won't be long." Stanley entered, closing the door behind him. The smell was almost overpowering now there was no fresh air. He doubted the man ever opened a window or cleaned at all. Knowing he didn't need to bother taking his shoes off, and glad for the protection, he followed the hallway that led into an untidy yet spartan living room off a side door.

  "Look, I don't want any trouble," said the man, practically throwing himself onto a gray sofa that half swallowed him up—the springs were probably gone years ago.

  "You said that already." Stanley wondered what kind of man would ever believe he looked like he could cause trouble. He wore a flat cap, was wrinklier than an unironed shirt, and was approaching seventy—hardly troublesome looking by anyone's standards. Taking a moment to orient himself, Stanley looked around the room. It made Pam's place look like a palace. The furniture was ancient, the dust was layers thick, and the TV was a small portable, a thick box of a thing Stanley thought had disappeared from use long ago.

  This was not the home of a wealthy man trying to do over his tenants. "What's going on with my sister-in-law's old home? Why haven't you been keeping up with the repairs?"

  "Look, mate, I don't have to answer to you. I've got rights, you know."

  "Like you've got the right to a massive fine, maybe even a prison sentence, for the state of the boiler. You tampered with it."

  "You what!? I did not. I got it serviced fair and square, even have the paperwork to prove it. I never make shortcuts on things like that as it could be dangerous. But that bint, Pam—"

  "Watch what you say. She's family."

  The landlord held up his arms, revealing stained armpits—Stanley almost gagged. "Fine, sorry. Look, I got it serviced, then sent the same bloke out when Pam called and said it was on the blink again, but he found nothing wrong. She keeps calling and I can't stand the pressure any more. I can't afford to keep making repairs or paying for repairmen who turn up and then when they get there nothing's wrong."

  "So how come it's faulty? Somebody tampered with it."

  "Like I said, it was fine when it was looked at."

  "Pam said you refused to do maintenance. Have you seen the state of the place? The walls are soaked and there's mold. You haven't even cleaned out the gutters."

  "I cleaned out the gutters, repeatedly. Did it myself so I knew the job was done properly as Pam kept moaning. But I ain't made of money, and if she wants to play silly buggers then that's up to her. I do my best, do what I can, and always try to charge fair rent, but I got no choice. I have to raise it. I'm going broke letting people live in my property for so little, so I just asked for a few quid more and she went off on one."

  "How can you justify charging more when the place is falling apart? You drove them out." Stanley was confused by the man, distracted by the apparent lack of money. Was it an act? Did he secretly live somewhere nice and he just stayed here for... No, you wouldn't live in squalor just on the off chance a tenant showed up and demanded you fix the boiler. Again.

  "Because I can't afford repairs otherwise. It's happening in my other places too. The whole thing is driving me around the bend. I'm not a rich man, just own a few houses I rent out. It keeps my head above water, just, but everyone keeps pestering me, moaning that this or that needs doing and that they won't pay rent unless I fix it. So I say to hell with it. If they are going to play silly buggers then I'll raise the price. If they don't like it they can move out and somebody else can move in. Someone who will pay on time and won't keep making up stories about things going wrong when it's obviously them doing the damage in the first place. I'm not made of money. I'm losing the plot here."

  "What about that boiler? You can't let people live in that house. The flue was blocked. Someone will get killed."

  The landlord sighed and heaved himself off the sofa. He made Stanley feel young, even though the man must have been a good fifteen years his junior. "I'll sort it before the next tenant. But I wouldn't be surprised if she's been messing with it herself. I got it fixed, I swear, same as everything else until she kept on pestering me. I don't have the money. I need cash to live and that's why the rent is going up. Anyway, she's moving out, isn't she?" He looked nervous. Worried.

  Something caught Stanley's eye and he turned, staring up above the mess of a blind where the rail had partially fallen, still up more by luck than anything. It was just a spider. The house was probably crawling with them.

  Was this merely a difference of opinion? Clearly the landlord had a different idea on maintenance and a healthy environment that he or Pam did. What would Babs make of this? She'd probably have a heart attack!

  "Eh? Oh, yes, she is. She'll be gone by the end of the week. Don't go trying to get her to pay any extra, she gave you proper notice."

  "First I've heard of official notice, but she did call and say. Actually, she screamed at me and called me names a woman should never say. She's trouble that one, her grumpy kid too."

  "That's enough!" The landlord jumped back, as if Stanley was about to strike him. What was wrong with this man? He was as nervous as Roobarb at a veterinary convention. "How aren't you making money if you have property? I thought that was where the money was these days?"

  "Because things keep going wrong with them and I can't afford it. Tenants disappear without paying rent, and the damn vultures keep circling, wanting to buy for ridiculous prices. I don't want to make anyone homeless, but I'm going out of my mind here."

  With a frown at the downtrodden man, taking in his slumped shoulders, unhealthy pallor and saggy skin, Stanley couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for him. What was this all about? He didn't seem the type to sabotage a boiler and kill a tenant to get them out so he could move someone else in and charge more. But then, what other explanation was there?

  "Just get that boiler fixed," he warned, then left.

  As Stanley was about to close the front door, the landlord appeared and said, "Tell that bint not to call me again," and slammed the door in Stanley's face.

  "Charming." Stanley went to find his family in the par
k.

  A Quiet Walk

  At the small park, Stanley filled in his daughter and nephew regarding the encounter with the landlord in a rather perfunctory and quiet manner. There wasn't really much to say anyway, and he was a little distracted. Nothing added up with the situation, as the landlord's words were somewhat at odds with how Spider and Pam had recounted events.

  It also didn't tie in with what Stanley had found at the house. If the man had done repairs but kept coming back to find more and more needed doing, then no doubt he would be annoyed, maybe even refuse to pay more money to get things fixed.

  But it was his house, his livelihood, and you can't charge the best prices when what you are offering is basically an uninhabitable slum. It all came down to money, as so many things did. The man was a strange one, no doubt, and far from rich. So maybe that was it. One disgruntled landlord who couldn't face handing over any more cash for what he saw as a bottomless money pit.

  The air was cooling as evening approached, and Stanley felt an ache in his side. He wasn't really sure any longer if the pain was real or more of a ghost effect from when his hip was properly bad. He suspected it was real and he was overdoing things, but what was the point in having new bits of yourself if it didn't mean you could do more than before?

  Then he remembered that before meant landing in hospital and hurting all the time, so who was he to complain about a slight niggle after a busy day trying to solve not only a double murder but a strange case involving a landlord too? He wasn't doing so bad for an old man, was he?

  "You okay, Dad?" Kate reached for Stanley's hand to give it a squeeze, then turned her attention to Spider and Roobarb who were running around in the field, apparently both intent on catching squirrels.

  "Fine, love, just been a long day. What with all this, and Mad Auntie Pam and young Spider here, it's been a lot to have going on at the same time if I'm honest."

  "You need to take it easy still. Remember what the doctor said. It will be a while until the new hip settles into place one-hundred percent and you have your full strength and mobility back."