Crockery that had never seen the outside of the glass-fronted display rattled a warning. Normally, they ate on their laps in the living room, saving the dining room for special occasions. Stanley hoped to earn enough from the new case to knock the wall down so the living room could be larger. It was a total waste of space, much like other things he was right now trying to get away from. He stood and nodded to Kate.
"Sorry, Dad. I told you, I have an appointment." She smirked.
"Oh, and what is your appointment, Kate?" Stanley asked innocently. "Surely you can change it? After all, your Aunt has just arrived, and Spider. Don't you want to catch up?" Kate gave him the daggers.
"Yes, dear, stay. You can change your plans, can't you?" said Babs, clearing away the table.
"Well, er, um, I don't—"
"That's the spirit," said Stanley. "And then, tomorrow, we can solve our double murder."
"Double murder? Cool," said Spider, lifting his head, saying more than he had since they'd arrived. "Hey, can I come?"
"Afraid not. It's OAPI business. You can't go interfering with cases like that, George." Spider scowled at the use of his real name. "Um, Spider. This is a serious matter, a double murder. We can't have kids running about upsetting clients."
"Aw, why can't I go? And I don't run around," Spider added, mumbling through a closed mouth.
"No, you move like a snail," said Stanley under his breath.
"Stanley, be nice. You can take Spider with you, can't you? It'll be good for him. It might make him come out of his shell a little. You know, give him a little oomph." Babs stared him in the eye, pleaded with him. She wanted him to snap out of his grumpy phase. It was going on too long, and even she'd had enough of it.
"Please, Stanley," said Pam. "Me and Babs can catch up properly tomorrow then, and Spider might be able to help."
"Yeah, Stanley, I'm good with computers and I can help cousin Kate while you solve the case."
"Ha!" Kate straightened her face as all eyes turned to her. "Oh, sorry, you were serious? Okay, if Dad says it's all right. But no messing with my stuff," she warned.
"I won't, I promise. Can I go to my room now?"
"Sure, off you go." Babs smiled at him. Spider left.
"Look, love, I know you mean well, but this is our first big case for ages. We can't have a kid getting in the way. Especially not one that..."
"It's okay, Stanley, I understand," said Pam. "I know he's a handful, and I know he's going through a tough phase, but..." Pam put her hands to her face. The sobbing started.
Oh, no. Not the crying. Stanley hated it when women cried. He ended up patting their heads like dogs and getting himself into a lot of trouble. Babs and Kate gave him the "look." Stanley mouthed a silent, "What?"
"It's just all too much. It's so hard coping on your own. I don't know what to do or say half the time. He just mumbles and goes off to his room. He hardly even goes out anymore, just watches TV or plays his music. He doesn't even play computer games!" shrieked Pam.
"Um, it's all right. He can come with us. He can look after Roobarb, and... We'll find him something to do. Promise."
Pam lifted her head. Mascara ran down her cheeks and she wiped her eyes, making it worse. She looked like a Panda, not that Stanley mentioned it. "Thank you, Stanley. I'm sorry to turn up and stay for so long, but we're having a few problems and have to move."
"With the rent?"
"Yes. I feel so silly, I just can't seem to cope at the moment. It's so difficult with a teenager, and everything gets more expensive by the day. I don't even buy organic any more." Pam resumed her crying at the thought of having to eat normal food like everyone else. Stanley couldn't afford organic. Who could?
"Don't you worry about a thing. We'll keep Spider out of your hair for a while. You can count on it." Stanley tried to stand his ground as the three dominant women in his life all stared at him, aghast. "What? Have I got some lunch stuck on my face?"
"No, Stanley, you don't," said Babs. She moved away from Pam and gave him a tight squeeze, then a kiss.
"Wow! What was that for?"
"For being a nice man, that's what." Babs smiled at him and gave him another kiss.
Then he was smothered by his daughter, and sister-in-law, all squeezing him and covering him in wet kisses. "Okay, okay, enough. What's got into you all?"
"You don't know how much that means to me, Stanley," said Pam. "It's such a lot to cope with, and you offering to help is just what I needed. I need to think straight, try to get us out of the mess we're in. I'm getting there, doing my best." Pam started crying again.
"I'll put the kettle on. Kate, care to show your old dad where everything is?"
"Sure." Kate and Stanley left to make tea.
"Don't go eating the biscuits," shouted Babs, knowing only too well what he was like if he thought she wouldn't catch him.
"Fine." Stanley winked at Kate.
In the kitchen, Kate got everything ready for tea while Stanley filled up the kettle and put it on to boil. The kitchen, cramped and mysterious, was a foreign land to him. It was Babs' domain, and she shooed him out if he tried to do things. Habits perfected over decades meant that it was her place, not his.
She spent a lot of time in there, doing who knew what, or sat at the tiny, Formica-covered table doing her crossword puzzles, happy for the alone time. Theirs was an old-fashioned relationship in many ways—Stanley always went out to work, Babs took care of the house and brought up their daughter.
She made him cups of tea, cooked his meals, and generally took charge of the house. When Kate left, their home was quiet, but they coped, and now that was over twenty years ago.
Retirement changed everything. Stanley was at a loss as to what to do, Babs kept getting annoyed with him for disturbing routines formed over almost half a century, and he felt himself dying inside a little each day. He'd tried daytime TV, tried hobbies in the shed, mowed the lawn, walked Roobarb, and slowly lost his mind.
But now he was a private eye, with his daughter as secretary, and he had his own business. Life was great.
"What are you smiling at?" asked Kate suspiciously.
"Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am."
"To have such a beautiful and intelligent daughter?"
"Haha, yes, something like that."
"That was a nice thing you did in there, Dad. Pam seems like she needs a break."
"I don't know what came over me." Stanley fiddled with his shirt collar, uncomfortable with the praise and the kind action that surprised even him. "But she does look frazzled, doesn't she? There's always something with that damn woman," he said, returning to his usual grumpy self.
"Now, now, be nice. I wonder what happened?"
"Don't you worry, I'm sure we'll find out."
And they did.
Trials and Tribulations
It turned out things were a lot worse than Pam had led them to believe. Her visit was an act of desperation as she didn't know what else to do, or where to go. Over the course of the afternoon and the evening, with Kate's "appointment" forgotten, the family talked, drank tea, and ate dinner, with Spider appearing for food then shutting himself away in Kate's old room where he played music, or worse, was quiet.
Never trust a silent teenage boy, was Stanley's motto, having been one himself, although very different to the modern teenager.
Stanley had a job at Spider's age. Had no time to revolt against "The Man" as he worked for him already. He did his best to relate to Spider, but the grumpiness and the moping about, not to mention the attitude that he was owed something, was hard to deal with when he'd never had the chance to be a teenager like that himself.
Still, he was a good kid, just going through a few changes.
Spider wasn't the problem anyway, it was just about everything else in Pam's life. Although he was certainly a handful, he didn't actually get into much trouble, just put a strain on Pam's already stretched nerves by being less than helpful around the house and not
realizing how close to the edge his mum was. In other words, a typical teenage boy.
Pam explained what had happened, and why her visit was to be longer than usual. Their landlord had become less and less interested in the upkeep of the small house Pam rented, subsidized through the government to help those that couldn't afford to pay all the rent themselves.
They didn't contribute much, though, so it was down to Pam to pay the majority. The house was in regular need of repair, but the landlord grew less inclined to deal with it, and the place became a nightmare. Taps dripped, the heating stopped working at times, and the gutters overflowed with weeds, meaning when it rained water ran down the outside walls and soaked through so that wallpaper peeled and the house became damp. Mold grew and Pam and Spider kept getting colds and chest infections.
And the rent went up. Soon it all got out of control, until Pam couldn't take it any longer. She had no extra money to pay for repairs herself. She barely scraped by, sometimes having extra money, sometimes not, depending on what shifts she could get at the local "Hippy Hellhole" as Stanley called it, although Pam referred to it as a boutique.
It was one of those places where you could buy t-shirts for heavy metal bands, posters, figurines of dragons, and what seemed to Stanley like an awful lot of various sized rolling papers and pipes he suspected were not the kind he would use to smoke his tobacco, but were more for those who liked a little "wacky backy" on occasion.
Shifts had been hard to come by though, and Pam had fretted about money for months, not that she ever had much.
The house was dangerous to live in, so she felt there was no alternative apart from moving, not to mention she had no choice as she simply couldn't afford the rent. So she'd spent what little she had left and convinced a rather nice lady who was putting up a small cottage for rent to allow her to pay just a half month's deposit. She could move in a week.
"But where are all your things?" asked Stanley that evening, as they sat in the living room after their dinner and Spider had gone back to his room. He smiled as Roobarb whimpered in his sleep on the rug by the gas fire they never used—he never seemed to believe it wasn't on.
Pam bowed her head a little and focused on stroking Custard, their evil genius of a cat that would only ever allow the women to touch him. Stanley and the mad moggie had a love-hate relationship—Stanley loved to hate Custard and Custard loved to hate him right back. "It's all still there. I can't afford a removal company and I was, well..."
"You want me to sort something out?" It would be a long week and no mistake.
"Oh, would you, Stanley? I hate to ask, but I can't stand it there any more. That landlord has gone crazy. He used to be so nice, always coming around to keep the house well-maintained, but... Oh, I don't know. It's all gone so wrong."
Stanley stopped himself before he said, "Again." There was always something with Pam, but this didn't sound like her usual money issues. "Sure, I'll see if I can get one of the guys from the council to let me borrow a van. And I'm sure I can get some lads from the village to help with the removals."
"Don't be daft, Dad, I can help."
"And don't you go lifting anything heavy, Stanley. Remember your hip," said Babs.
"Love, I keep telling you, my hip is fixed. I'm right as rain now. Never felt better in my life." It was true, he felt like a new man. No pain getting up from his chair, and hardly ever a twinge. He could walk for hours, and he was fine doing some lifting.
"Dad, come on. The doctor said to take it easy and not lift heavy stuff. It's still settling in, so you don't want to risk messing anything up."
"But, um, well, er..." Pam trailed off and focused on the cat again.
"What, Auntie Pam? What is it?"
"I'm... I'm embarrassed."
"Bloody hell, that's a first." Stanley got a look.
"The house is a mess. I'm half packed and I just sort of abandoned it. I couldn't face it any more and that damn mold is making us ill, I'm sure of it."
Stanley thought for a moment. Much as he wasn't keen on getting involved in Pam's dramatic life, this sounded different to how she usually was. She was always messy, rather disorganized, but she'd never worried what other people thought of her. If she did then she wouldn't dye her hair weird colors when she was over fifty, and she wouldn't wear those voluminous, flowing, tie-dye dresses, and more beads than could be healthy for your circulation. Not to mention the nose piercing. "Okay, how about Kate and I go and do some light stuff and get everything ready, then in a couple of days I'll get a few lads to move the heavy stuff?"
"Oh, would you? Thanks ever so much. You really are a dear."
"I'll put the kettle on, and you, Stanley Bloom, can have a sugar in your tea." Babs got up to make the tea.
"Can I have a biscuit?" Three women stared at Stanley's midsection. "Fine, no biscuits."
"Kate, we'll go visit our client in the morning, then drive on over to Pam's and help out your Aunt. How does that sound?"
"Sounds great. But I thought Spider was coming as well?"
"Damn, I forgot. Right, we'll take him with us to the client. He can watch Roobarb, then we'll take him with us to Pam's. That'll be all right, won't it, Pam?"
"I suppose. Just don't let him breathe in anything nasty. He's delicate."
"Um, okay."
"Thank you. I really appreciate it. Sorry to be such a bother."
"No bother."
Blimey, things must be bad. Pam's never been like this before in her life. Just what the hell is going on?
Babs came back in with the tea, and for once Stanley actually enjoyed it properly. All the fake sugar had made him cut down his tea drinking—it always made it taste like someone had poured kitchen cleaner into his cuppa.
"Aah, lovely."
Half an hour later, Stanley began snoring in his recliner while the women talked late into the night.
To Business
"Right, we're off, love." Stanley practically pushed Kate out the door. She'd arrived late. It was gone eight already, and he didn't want to hit all the traffic. Plus, he wanted to get out of the house before Pam started crying again. She was really out of sorts, and no mistake.
The usually bubbly and overbearing woman had been replaced with someone that kept saying thank you and was actually trying to help Babs in the kitchen. Normally she sat there and expected to be lorded over as though she were royalty. Very odd.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Babs, housecoat on so she didn't ruin her clothes. Why she couldn't just not wear nice clothes instead of covering them up with her housecoat, Stanley had given up asking years ago. It was what Babs did, some kind of "just-in-case" thing, apparently, as if she would suddenly need to whip it off and reveal that she had smart clothes on underneath—it hadn't happened yet.
Stanley walked up to his wife and gave her a kiss. "See you."
"Not that, Stanley. Spider, you forgot Spider."
"Oh, right. Where is he, then? I told him we were going ages ago."
"I'll go get him," said Pam as she left the kitchen.
"Is she all right? She's a bit out of sorts, isn't she?"
"You need to find out what's going on, Stanley," whispered Babs conspiratorially. "All this business with the rent and the house, it all sounds fishy to me. Do your detectiving and get to the bottom of it."
"Love, it's just a dodgy landlord and a money problem, nothing more."
"No, there's something else. She won't say, but I'm sure there's more to it than she's letting on."
"Fine, we'll go over this afternoon, after we meet our client. Ugh, Spider better behave."
"It'll be fine. Okay, here they come." Babs busied herself at the kitchen sink then began to whistle.
She never whistled. Why did people think it made them seem innocent? It was an obvious sign you were up to something.
Stanley put on his best smile and said, "You ready, Spider? Ready to solve some murders?"
"S'pose."
"That's the spirit."
/> It would be a long day. Very long. Stanley waved goodbye and stepped out into the boot room where they kept coats, shoes, and hats—it was strictly shoes off inside the house. Stanley made sure he had his pipe, put on his shoes and coat, grabbed his cap, and caught up with Kate who stood outside the door with Roobarb already on his lead.
"All right, Dad?"
"Fine. I just hope Spider doesn't depress our client so much she decides to follow her father and brother into the grave."
"Dad!"
"Sorry, bad taste. But boy is that child depressing."
Spider stepped out. "Right, I'm ready."
"What are they?" asked Stanley, pointing at Spider's footwear.
"They're called trainers. You want me to spell it for you?"
"Why you cheeky—"
"Dad!"
"Fine, let's go." Stanley took one more look at Spider's "trainers," although how you could call the unlaced white boots with the brand name so large on them anything but a walking advertisement he had no idea.
He saw it more and more these days. People wearing t-shirts, jumpers, even coats, with huge logos on them. At first, he thought maybe they were getting paid to advertise for the companies and it was some new marketing gimmick, but no, people paid to advertise expensive brands on their clothes. What a world.
Stanley stepped up to the car, and all thought of footwear was forgotten. He steeled himself for what was to come—terror. Kate was the absolute worst driver he had ever encountered. How she hadn't killed other drivers, cyclists, pedestrians, herself or him was enough to make him believe in a higher power.
As Kate warmed the engine, he flipped the front seat forward and Roobarb half jumped, half clambered onto the back seat. After a little digging at his blanket he settled down. Roobarb was not a dog that would stick his head out the window—the best thing to do was lie low, wait for it all to be over, and hopefully still be alive at the other end.
"Right, in you go, Spider."
Spider looked at Stanley, then the back seat and the cramped remaining space. "Seriously?"
Old Age Private Oh My! Page 3
