by Adele Abbott
“How are we for buckets?”
“We have enough.”
“Okay. Let’s go do this.”
When we stepped into the shop, our way was blocked by a line of string across the aisle. We had to practically limbo in order to get underneath it. After picking out a couple of nice-looking cakes, and grabbing five packets of custard creams, we made our way to the counter. Little Jack Corner seemed to have abandoned his hydraulic platform, and had reverted to the more basic, but much safer, wooden box.
“Hello, you two. Cakes? Is it a birthday?”
“No,” Jack said. “These are for our new neighbours.”
“What a very nice gesture. And the biscuits? Are you inviting them around for a cup of tea?”
“No, they’re all for Jill.”
“They do have to last me for quite a while,” I offered in my defence. “By the way, did you know there’s a length of string running across the aisles?”
“That’s my new invention.” He picked up a tin can that was attached to the length of string. “Missy? Come in. Do you copy?”
A weak voice came back, “I copy, Jack.”
“See,” he said, proudly. “Before, when we were at opposite ends of the shop, we weren’t able to communicate, but now, with this, it’s no problem.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
“Missy is near to the buckets. Would you like me to ask her to bring you one?”
Before I could answer, there was a loud crash on the road outside.
Jack rushed for the door; I was a couple of steps behind him. Fortunately, we both remembered to duck under the string. The scene that met us was horrific. A car had left the road and ploughed straight into a lamppost. The front-end was crumpled, and the driver looked in a bad way. Standing next to the wrecked vehicle was a familiar face.
“Lester?”
He looked up, and nodded to me. “He’s gone, Jill. Dead.”
Jack started towards the vehicle, but I grabbed his arm. “It’s too late, Jack. There’s nothing you can do.”
“Is Lester a doctor?”
“Err—no, but he’s medically trained.”
“I should at least call the police and ambulance, just in case.”
“Yeah. You do that while I have a quick word with Lester.”
While Jack was on the phone to the emergency services, I hurried across to Lester.
“Are you sure he’s dead?”
“Positive. Luckily I was only just down the street.”
“Not so lucky for him. What happens now?”
“It’ll only take me a few moments to process him, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“I do wish there was a better term than ‘process’.”
“Sorry. This is my first assignment since I qualified, so I’m a little nervous.”
“The emergency services are on their way.” Jack had now joined us. “Is there anything else I can do, Lester?”
“No. I’ve got this. I’ll stay here until the emergency services arrive.”
“Come on, Jack.” I grabbed his arm. “We should go.”
“Shouldn’t we wait here with Lester?”
“No need.” Lester waved away the offer. “I’m fine.”
“You and Lucy should come around for dinner sometime,” Jack said.
“Sure. Or you and Jill could come to us?”
Come to us? What was Lester thinking? How was Jack meant to visit the sup world?
“He’s a nice guy,” Jack said, as we made our way back to the house. “We should definitely all have dinner sometime.”
“Yeah, but it would have to be at our place. I didn’t like to say anything in front of Lester, but Aunt Lucy is the world’s worst cook.”
“Tell me again what it is that Lester does for a living.”
“He’s a—err—despatch clerk.”
Chapter 8
Even though I was snowed under with work, I was still determined to somehow track down the descendants of Helen Drewmore. I was now convinced that they were the key to my discovering more information about what I’d seen in that small room at CASS. I had to find the identities of the two people whose portraits were in my locket, and work out what connection, if any, they had to me. The only problem was, I didn’t know where to start.
But I knew someone who might.
I magicked myself over to Aunt Lucy’s.
“Jill, I was going to give you a call later. Lester told me that you and Jack saw him last night. I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to tell you that he’d been allocated to the Smallwash area. I only found out myself yesterday.”
“That’s okay. It was a bit awkward, though. He was—err—processing a client at the time.”
“Oh dear.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it. Jack suggested that the four of us should have dinner sometime.”
“That’s not so terrible, is it?”
“Of course not, but Lester said we could come to you.”
“He said what?”
“It must have been the pressure of dealing with his first client. I think I managed to talk my way out of it, though. I told Jack we shouldn’t come here because you were such a terrible cook.”
She laughed. “It’s a good thing you had your wits about you. I’ll have words with Lester.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. I suspect he’s feeling pretty stressed now that he’s out on his own.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Not just now, I have to go and see a troll in a few minutes. I popped in because I was hoping I might pick your brain.”
“Slim pickings to be found there, but I’ll help if I can.”
“I was wondering what’s the best way of tracing a family tree in Candlefield? It’s relatively simple in the human world because I have the internet to rely on, but I’m struggling a bit in the sup world.”
“Who are you trying to trace?”
“I—err—no one in particular. It’s just something that would be handy to know for when I’m working cases over here.”
“Right.” She didn’t sound convinced, but as I’d hoped, she didn’t press me. “Your best bet would probably be the Candlefield Electoral Society. Their offices are based in the town hall, I believe.”
“I should have thought of that. Thanks.” I turned to leave, but then I had an idea. “I don’t suppose I could borrow your car, could I?”
“Of course. I hardly ever use it. I’ll give you my spare key, and then you can take it anytime you like.”
“Thanks.”
***
I drove to the bridge where Cole the troll worked. After parking in a nearby layby, I made my way across the bridge on foot. I was almost half-way across when something jumped up from underneath it, blocking my way.
“Give me money!” the troll demanded.
“No.”
“But you have to give me money if you want to cross the bridge.”
“I don’t think so.”
“But you have to. This is a troll bridge.”
“That’s very good.” I laughed. “Are you Cole?”
“How did you know?”
“Your cousin, Timothy, asked me to pay you a visit.”
“Are you the witch detective?”
“I guess I am.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realise. Would you like to go under the bridge to talk?”
“Is it muddy down there?”
“It is a little.”
“Why don’t we stay up here, then?”
“Okay. The reason I wanted to talk to you is I think someone must be stealing my customers.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’ve been under this same bridge for several years now. Every day, dozens upon dozens of people used to come across here. That netted me a nice income. But then, suddenly, a few months ago, most of the people stopped coming. Instead of getting dozens of customers, I’m now lucky to get two or three in a day. How am
I supposed to live on that? I need you to find out what has happened to my customers—to find out who is stealing them.”
“I don’t really understand how anyone could ‘steal’ your customers unless they’d blockaded the road or set up a diversion, but I’ve just driven here, and I saw nothing like that.”
“Something must have happened, and it’s left me practically penniless. Please, will you help me?”
“If you’re penniless, how are you going to pay me for my time?”
“I can’t.” His bottom lip quivered, and for a moment, I thought he was going to cry.
“Look, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see if I can work out what’s caused this problem, and if I do, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you so much.” He threw his arms around me, and gave me a hug.
Let me tell you: being hugged by a troll is not my favourite thing in the world.
***
After saying goodbye to Cole, I drove very slowly back the way I’d come. I wanted to make absolutely sure that there was nothing obvious that might be stopping travellers (or customers, as Cole referred to them) making their way to the bridge. I got all the way back to the main road without spotting anything, but then it occurred to me that maybe the road sign had been removed. I drove back along the main road to check, but there it was—clearly signposted to ‘North Candle’.
I felt bad for Cole, but there wasn’t much else I could do. He would just have to find himself another bridge, or maybe transfer to a well.
I needed coffee and a muffin. All that driving up and down the road had taken its troll on me.
Troll? Get it? Come on—this is some of my best material.
Pearl was back in Cuppy C today. Both she and Amber were behind the counter.
“Where did you skive off to yesterday?” I asked Pearl.
“You’re wasting your time, Jill.” Amber huffed. “She won’t tell.”
“That’s because it’s none of your business.” Pearl turned on her sister.
“It is when you leave me in the lurch.”
“Girls! Girls! I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
Once I had my drink and muffin, I went to sit by the window. Moments later, Pearl pulled up the chair next to mine.
“Sorry about just now,” she said.
“That’s okay. I was only poking fun; it’s none of my business where you went.”
“I went to see the doctor.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great. Look, you mustn’t tell Amber or Mum, but I—err—I probably shouldn’t say anything.”
I was getting a very strong sense of déjà vu.
“You’re pregnant.”
“How did you know?”
“Amber!” I called. “Come over here, would you?”
Pearl looked horrified. “You mustn’t tell her!”
“What’s going on?” Amber said.
“Pull up a chair.”
“Jill! Don’t!” Pearl pleaded.
“Pearl, you’re going to be an auntie.”
“Jill!” Amber looked daggers at me.
“Amber, you’re going to be an auntie, too.”
“What?” They echoed.
“You’re—?” Amber looked at her sister.
Pearl nodded. “You too?”
The two of them hugged, and we all cried.
A few minutes later, after we’d all managed to compose ourselves, I stood up, and said, “Come on then.”
“Where?”
“You have to tell Aunt Lucy.”
“No!” Amber looked horrified.
“I can’t.” So did Pearl.
“You have to. It’s not fair to expect me to keep this secret from your mother. If you didn’t want her to know, then you shouldn’t have told me.”
“You have to come with us,” Pearl said.
“Okay. I’ve got Aunt Lucy’s car outside. Jump in—there’s no time like the present.”
On the way over to Aunt Lucy’s house, neither of the twins spoke.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Pearl said, as we reached the door.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be good practice for the weeks to come.” I led the way inside.
“Hello, you three.” Aunt Lucy greeted us. “What’s going on?”
“The twins have something to tell you.”
“Oh?”
Amber looked at Pearl. Pearl looked at Amber. Neither of them spoke.
“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Aunt Lucy beamed.
“How did you know?” Amber said.
“A mother knows. Come here both of you. Give me a hug.”
***
Much to my chagrin, it was triangle day in Coffee Triangle. I would have suggested we relocate to a different coffee shop, but Angie Crawford had already bought her coffee by the time I arrived.
“This place is something else.” She struck her triangle. “Do you come here often?”
“Quite often, but I usually try to avoid triangle day.”
“Why’s that?”
“No reason. It’s just that I prefer the tambourine. Or maracas.”
“I’m actually quite partial to a triangle.” She struck it again, just to prove the point.
“Thanks for agreeing to see me at such short notice.”
“No problem. Are you working with the police?”
“Sort of, but I was actually hired by Lucy Gander.”
“Gena’s sister-in-law?”
“You know her?”
“No, but Gena has mentioned her a few times. From what I can gather, Lucy and her brother were very close.”
“I’m hoping you’ll be able to throw some light on the state of Gena and Gary’s relationship. Lucy seems to think they had a good marriage.”
Angie shook her head. “Then she must have been blind. Or stupid.”
“Are you saying things weren’t good between Gary and Gena?”
“Gena was going to leave him.”
“Did Gary know?”
“He knew she wasn’t happy, but he had no idea that she planned to leave. She was going to tell him on the day she was murdered.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was determined.”
“Wasn’t that the day of their anniversary?”
“Yes. Gary had booked the train trip weeks before. Gena said she wanted to tell him that she was leaving while they were in a public place. She was afraid how he might react if they were somewhere by themselves. I told her it was a bad idea—that it was cruel to do it on their anniversary, but she was determined.”
“Was she seeing someone else?”
“Yeah. His name is Don Preston; she met him six months ago.”
“Did Gary know about the other man?”
“Cripes, no. That would have totally destroyed him. Gena was his whole life.”
“Do you think Gary killed her?”
She nodded. “He must have seen red when she told him she was leaving.” Angie began to well up. “I’m sorry. I still can’t believe she’s gone. We’d known each other since we were kids. I don’t even have a recent photo to remember her by.”
“I have one that you can have.”
“Really?”
“If you want it, that is. Gary asked one of the other passengers to take a photo of them when they first got on the train. But of course, they’re both on it.”
“That’s okay. I can cut that pig out of it.”
“I took out my phone, and brought up the photograph. “This is it. I’ll email it to you if you’re sure you want it.”
Angie didn’t answer. Instead, she just stared at the screen.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to upset you.”
“That’s Don.” She pointed at the photo.
“Sorry?”
“He’s the man that Gena was seeing.” She touched her finger to the screen. “There, in the seat behind them. That’s Don Preston.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. That’s him.”
“Did Gena tell you he was going to be on the train?”
“No. I don’t think she can have known he’d planned to be there.”
“Do you know where Don lives?”
“No, but I know where he works. Do you know the phone shop next door to the indoor market?”
“I don’t, but I’ll find it.” I stood up.
“Shouldn’t we tell the police about Don?”
“Probably. Finish your coffee first, and then give them a call, would you?”
I sprinted over to the indoor market.
What? Okay, it wasn’t so much a sprint as a brisk walk.
Top Phone was a small independent shop. It was almost impossible to see through the window because of the posters, offering ‘exclusive deals’, that were plastered all over the glass.
Inside, two customers were standing at the counter. A young woman, wearing a turquoise T-shirt with the words ‘Top Phone’ on the front, was obviously struggling to show them how to do something. At the back of the shop was a man, wearing an identical T-shirt. It was the man from the photograph.
“Can I help you?” He approached me, all beard and teeth.
“We need to talk in the back.” I grabbed him by the arm, and frogmarched him towards the door marked: Staff Only.
“You can’t come in here.”
“Be quiet and listen. We don’t have long before the police arrive.”
“Police?”
“I know you were on the Washbridge Flyer the day that Gena and Gary Shore were murdered.”
The colour drained from his face. “He killed Gena. There wasn’t anything I could do.”
“And then you killed him?”
“No. He’d already jumped off the train when I got there. Honestly.”
“It isn’t me you need to convince; it’s the police. But if you are innocent, you’d better tell me everything you know before they get here.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m your one and only hope, so you’d better tell me what happened.”
“I begged Gena not to go on the trip, but she thought that by breaking the news to her husband on the train he’d be less likely to react violently. I wasn’t so sure—that’s why I booked a ticket too. I wanted to be there for her in case things turned nasty.” His head dropped. “I failed her.”
