by Adele Abbott
“What can I do for you?”
“Ida’s sister wants to pay us a visit.”
“That’ll be nice for them both.”
“It will if she can find her way here. Emma has never been here before, and her homing instinct never was very good, but recently it’s deteriorated to the point where she can’t find her way from point A to point B without assistance.”
“Oh dear. How can I help?”
“Would you download an app called Pigeon Router? You should find it in the app store.”
“Let me take a look.” I took out my phone. “Yes, it’s here.”
“Would you mind installing it?”
“Okay.” It took only a few seconds. “Right. What now?”
“Do you see a button marked ‘I’m Here’?”
“Yeah.”
“Press that.”
“Okay. Now it’s asking for a name.”
“Type ‘Harold’ and then press ‘Go’.”
“H-A-R-O-L-D. Okay. I’ve pressed ‘Go’. What now?”
“That’s all. That will send out a signal for Emma to follow. She should be here within the hour. Thanks, Jill.”
“No problem.”
Chapter 2
The morning was really dragging.
I was in-between cases, and I had very little to occupy my mind. I’d spent the last hour doing one of my least favourite jobs: Preparing for the visit of my accountant, Luther Stone. Bookkeeping had always been something of a mystery to me; a necessary evil that got in the way of my real work. Why anyone would choose to be an accountant, I couldn’t begin to imagine. I’d rather poke my eyes out with a red-hot poker.
By ten-thirty, I was practically comatose from boredom, when Mrs V came through to my office.
“There’s a woman out there, Jill. She called in on spec and wondered if you might spare her a few minutes.”
“I’d be happy to. Anything to get away from this paperwork. What’s her name?”
“Mrs Cross.”
“Okay, show her in, would you?”
In her early forties, Mrs Cross was well dressed without being showy. She clearly had an eye for fashion, much like me.
“Thank you for seeing me without an appointment, Mrs Maxwell.” She offered me a confident hand. “I’m sure you’re very busy.”
“Call me Jill, please. I’m actually extremely busy at the moment, but I do have a few minutes to spare before my next meeting.”
Over on the sofa, Winky was grinning at me, but I ignored him.
“Do have a seat, Mrs Cross.”
“You must call me Lorraine.”
“How exactly can I help you today, Lorraine?”
“I’m here about my brother, Eddie Broom. He went missing from a hotel.”
That rang a bell. Earlier that morning, Jack had told me that he was working on a case that involved a man who had vanished from a hotel in West Chipping.
“Actually, Lorraine, I think I heard something about that. I’m not usually in the business of turning clients away, but I do think it might be best to give the police a little time to investigate before you hire a private investigator.”
“They’ve already had two years. How much longer should I give them?”
“Sorry, I must have misunderstood. I was talking about a man who went missing under similar circumstances within the last few days. From a hotel in West Chipping.”
“Actually, it was seeing that story in the newspaper today that prompted me to take matters into my own hands. The police have had more than enough time to find out what happened to Eddie, so it’s up to me now.”
“I see. Perhaps it would be best if you started by telling me exactly what happened two years ago?”
“Eddie was visiting Washbridge for a few days on business, and was staying at the Parkside Hotel. Do you know it?”
“I do, yes. Is there any reason he didn’t stay with you?”
“I don’t actually live in Washbridge. I live in a village called Middle Tweaking. You probably haven’t heard of it. Not many people have.”
“As it happens, I was there only a few weeks ago. Do you know Myrtle Turtle?”
“Everyone knows Myrtle.”
“She’s a friend of mine. Anyway, you were saying your brother had booked into the Parkside?”
“Yes, for three days, but according to the hotel staff, no one saw him after the first day. His bed had never been slept in.”
“Was it the hotel who reported his disappearance?”
“No, it was his wife, Sandra.” Lorraine hesitated. “Eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“It wasn’t until two days after he should have returned home that she thought to contact the police.”
“Why the delay?”
“She maintains that she wasn’t worried because he often returned late from business trips.”
“Did he pay you a visit while he was up here?”
“No. I didn’t even know he was in the area.”
“What line of business was your brother in?”
“He worked for a company called Branded Context. They’re an advertising agency. He never told me much about his work.”
“Were you close?”
“Not as close as we used to be before he married that cow.”
“I take it you and she don’t get along?”
“He should never have married that awful woman. I never liked her. After he disappeared, I was frantic. I kept calling the police to ask what they were doing. I think they got fed up with me in the end. Not Sandra though. She didn’t seem to care that her husband had disappeared.”
“People do react in different ways when this kind of thing happens. Maybe she’s just good at hiding her feelings.”
“If she was so upset, how come she found herself a new man less than six months after Eddie disappeared?”
Lorraine Cross proceeded to tell me everything she knew about her brother’s disappearance, which in all honesty, didn’t amount to much at all. If she was to be believed, the police clearly thought her brother had deliberately gone missing, and subsequently they’d put only the minimum resources into the case.
“Okay, Lorraine, I think I have everything I need for now. I’ll be in touch if I think of anything else.”
“Thank you for taking this on. You’re my last hope.”
No pressure, then.
“Extremely busy?” Winky scoffed. “You were just sitting there, twiddling your thumbs until she walked through the door.”
“I don’t remember asking for your input.”
“What you need is an innovative marketing campaign.”
“Let me guess. You just happen to be an expert marketeer.”
“As it happens, I am. And for you, I’m prepared to put together a campaign that is bound to bring in new clients. And what’s more, I’d be willing to do it for a vastly reduced fee.”
“I’m not interested.”
“You haven’t heard how much it would cost yet.”
“Would it be free?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I’m not interested.”
“Are you sure? This is a once in a lifetime offer. Never to be repeated.”
“Watch my lips. I. Am. Not. Interested.”
***
My phone rang; it was Martin.
“You don’t mind me calling you again, do you, Sis?”
Until recently, I’d had no idea that I had a brother, so you might think that I’d want to see him at every opportunity, but, to be perfectly honest, I still didn’t completely trust the man, even though I didn’t know why.
“Of course not, Martin. I love to hear your voice. Actually, I was speaking to Kathy earlier this morning. She wanted to know when she could see you.”
“I can’t wait to meet her, but I’m actually tied up every evening this week. I can more or less do any night next week. Do you think we could arrange something for then?”
“Why don’t I have a word with her, to see which days s
he’s free, and I’ll let you know?”
“That works for me.”
“Great. Now, what was it you called me for?”
“Nothing, really. I just fancied a quick chat.”
“Right. Well, it’s been great talking to you, but I’ll have to go now because my next client is due at any minute.”
“We should have a lie jar in here,” Winky said. “If you put fifty pence in it every time you lied, it would be full within a month.”
“Don’t exaggerate. I hardly ever tell a lie.”
“That’s the first fifty-pence, right there.”
I needed to check with Kathy which days she was free the following week, but rather than phone her, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I was gagging for a drink, and I figured if I nipped down to Kathy’s shop, I could get a free cup of coffee and some biscuits.
“I’m going to Kathy’s for a while, Mrs V. I shouldn’t be very long.”
“All right, dear. While you were talking to Mrs Cross, you had a phone call from Luther Stone, to confirm he’ll be coming in tomorrow. He wanted me to remind you to make sure you had everything prepared for him.”
“That’s okay. It’s all in hand.”
When I arrived at Kathy’s Bridal Shop, she was busy with some customers. One of them, clearly the bride-to-be, was trying on a dress. Kathy was on her hands and knees, pinning it up, under the watchful eye of an older woman who was obviously the bride’s mother.
Kathy spotted me. “Jill, I’m on my own in here today. Would you be a darling and go into the back, and bring through those two cerise bridesmaids’ dresses?”
I looked at her blankly. “Cerise?”
“Yes, please.”
“Right.”
In the back there were two racks of bridal gowns, and several more racks of bridesmaids’ dresses, but which were the ‘cerise’ ones? What colour was cerise? I had no idea, but I seemed to recall it was a shade of red, so I picked out the first red ones on the rack and took them through to the shop.
Both the bride and her mother looked horrified.
“I said the cerise ones,” Kathy snapped. “Those are maroon.”
“I thought cerise was red.”
“Cerise is a vivid reddish pink. Go and have another look.”
What was it with all these stupid colour names? Why couldn’t people just call them what they were? If she’d said, get me the vivid reddish pink bridesmaids’ dresses, I might have had a chance of getting it right the first time.
I put the maroon dresses back on the rail and picked up the cerise (shouldn’t be a real word) ones.
“Thanks.” Kathy took them from me. “Have a seat. I shouldn’t be much longer.”
Fifteen minutes later, when the bride and her mother finally left the shop, I was sure I heard her say something that sounded a lot like colour blind.
“Are all your customers as difficult as those two?”
“They weren’t difficult. You should see some of the clients I get in here.”
“Any chance of a cuppa?”
She gave me a look. “You could have made one while you were waiting.”
“It tastes better when you make it.”
“Is that the only reason you popped in? For a free drink?”
“Actually, I came to tell you that I’ve spoken to Martin.”
“Did you ask when I could meet him?”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
“Make me a cuppa, and I’ll tell you.”
Grumbling under her breath, she went into the back and made us both a coffee.
“Ginger nuts?” I screwed up my face. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“Take them or leave them. Now, what did Martin have to say?”
“He’s busy all this week, but he said that he’s free everyday next week.”
“I’ve just had a great idea.”
Never a good thing. “What’s that?”
“Why don’t we ‘siblings’ get together? Just the three of us? Pete and Jack can go bowling.”
“That’s fine by me.”
“How about next Tuesday? A week tomorrow?”
“Okay. I’ll let Martin know. Where do you want to do it? At your house?”
“Yeah. I’ll try and get Pete’s parents to have the kids.”
As I made my way back up the high street, Betty Longbottom stepped out of The Sea’s The Limit.
I had to do a doubletake because she looked so different from the last time I’d seen her. She had a new hairstyle, was wearing way more makeup than usual, and had obviously splashed out on a new navy-blue suit.
“Good morning, Mrs Maxwell.” For some reason, she was putting on a weird posh accent. And why on earth was she calling me Mrs Maxwell?
“Good morning, Betty.”
“Mrs Maxwell, I just wanted to thank you for the positive review of The Sea’s The Limit that you submitted to The Bugle.”
This was getting weirder and weirder. First, she calls me Mrs Maxwell—something she’d never done before. And now she thanks me for a review I knew nothing about. I had never left a review, positive or otherwise, in The Bugle.
Before I could correct her, she continued, “Yes, that’s true, Mrs Maxwell. There has indeed been a one hundred percent increase in attendances in the last few months.”
It was only then that I spotted them: Inside the shop, were a film crew who were recording this exchange through the open door. Everything made sense now. They were filming the reality TV show; the one I’d been offered, but which I’d declined. Betty was clearly trying to put on a good spin for the benefit of the TV audience.
I figured that I owed it to her to play along, so I said, “In my opinion, The Sea’s The Limit is the best entertainment venue in all of Washbridge. You are to be commended on what you have done here.”
“That’s very kind of—” She stopped mid-sentence, and her expression turned from one of gratitude to one of shock. “You’ve got a pigeon on your shoulder, Jill.” Gone now, was the posh voice.
But she wasn’t wrong because perched on my left shoulder, there was indeed a pigeon.
“So I do. Where did that come from?”
This clearly wasn’t the kind of image that Betty was hoping to project, so she made her excuses and scurried back inside the shop.
Meanwhile, the pigeon was staring at me. “Where’s Ida?”
That’s when the penny dropped. I’d totally forgotten about the pigeon app.
“Are you Ida’s sister?”
“Yes, I’m Emma. Who are you?”
“My name’s Jill. I’m a friend of Ida’s. Harold asked me to set up the app to send you directions to get here.”
“I don’t understand.” She glanced around. “Where are Ida and Harold?”
“I’m very sorry. I had to nip out of the office, and I’d totally forgotten that you were headed over here. Harold and Ida are just up the road. I can point the way if you like.”
“I wouldn’t trust myself to find them,” she said. “My sense of direction is terrible. Do you think you could take me there?”
“I suppose so.”
So it was that I continued up the high street with a pigeon on my left shoulder. Needless to say, I attracted a few strange looks along the way.
How would I explain this to Mrs V? She would think I’d finally lost the plot. Somehow, I had to get her out of the office for a few minutes, so I could take Emma through to the window ledge.
I took out my phone and made a call. My plan was to send her on an errand to the shop. The phone rang out, but there was no reply; she must have nipped to the loo. This was my chance.
I hurried up the stairs, through the outer office, into my office and over to the window where I placed Emma gently onto the ledge.
“Ida and Harold are just down there on the left.”
“Thanks, Jill.”
When I turned around, Mrs V was standing in the doorway, giving me the strangest look. “Who are I
da and Harold? And why were you talking to a pigeon?”
Chapter 3
“See what I mean?” Winky laughed. “That jar would already be half full.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“The lie jar I suggested we should have in here. You’ve just spent the last five minutes lying to the old bag lady about what happened with the pigeons.”
“Those were extenuating circumstances. I had to think on my feet.”
“It’s a good thing she’s so gullible. Who else would have believed that you just happened to come across a racing pigeon that your neighbour had lost?”
I took out my phone. “How am I supposed to switch this stupid pigeon app thingy off?”
“You’re hopeless.” Winky held out his paw. “Give it here.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Course I do. It’s simple.” He twiddled around for a few seconds and then handed the phone back to me. “There, all done. Simples.”
Lorraine Cross had painted a somewhat damning picture of her brother’s wife, Sandra, but I wanted to make my own assessment of the woman, to see if she was as bad as Lorraine had portrayed her to be.
“Is that Sandra Broom?”
“Speaking.”
“My name is Jill Maxwell. I wonder if I could speak to you about your husband, Eddie.”
“His name was Edward. And who exactly might you be, Ms Maxwell?”
“I’m a private investigator.”
“Why are you interested in Edward? Who hired you?”
“Your husband’s sister.”
“Lorraine? I might have known. She had no right to do that.”
“She’s only interested in discovering what—”
“I have nothing to say to you. Goodbye.”
“But Mrs—” It was too late—she’d already hung up.
If that brief exchange was anything to go by, it seemed that Lorraine Cross was right about Sandra Broom. What a nasty piece of work. Still, I was nothing if not persistent, so I tried again.
“Mrs Broom?”
“You again? I’ve already told you that—”
“If you could just spare me a few minutes of your time. That’s all it would take.”
“Don’t call me again or you’ll have my lawyer to deal with. Goodbye.”
