by Adele Abbott
That must have had Sergeant Sergeant worried. If they carried out their promise to thoroughly double-check the background of all employees, maybe that would involve speaking to the colonel? Could that have been a motive for Sergeant Sergeant to murder him? To prevent him from disclosing information about the gun thefts?
***
When I arrived at the office, the first thing I did was dig out what was left of the Yellow Pages. Sure enough, there under the heading of dancing classes were some which offered ‘crash courses’. Fantastic! I’d be up to speed in no time. I called a couple, but they had no classes I could join immediately. Then I tried Ballroom Blitz. The lady who answered said I was in luck because one of their crash courses was due to start in a couple of days. Sweet!
“It costs how much?” I gasped.
“You have to remember that you’re getting the equivalent of six normal lessons compacted into one super lesson. Hence the price.”
“And how many super lessons will I need?”
“Normally just the two.”
“So I have to pay this amount twice?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you do a discount?”
“For what?”
“For people who don’t have any money.”
“I’m sorry, madam, there’s a huge demand for the crash courses. We can fill them very easily. In fact, there’s only one place remaining. Would you like me to book you in or not?”
What choice did I have? I suppose I could have come clean with Jack Maxwell, but I could just imagine how that would have gone:
Hi Jack, you know how I said that I was an expert ballroom dancer? Yeah, well, I lied through my teeth. I can’t dance at all. Sorry. Bye.
“Okay, book me on the course. Thank you.”
“I don’t know why you’re wasting your money with that,” Winky said, after I’d ended the call.
“I don’t have any choice. I have to learn to dance in a few days.”
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
“Ask you what?”
“To teach you to dance.”
“You can’t dance.”
“Of course I can dance. What would you like to see? The waltz? The foxtrot? The quickstep?”
“I don’t believe you.”
He jumped off the desk, and grabbed one of the remaining mini-Winkys, which was still lying on the office floor. Then he began to dance around the room. Not that I was an expert, but he did appear to know what he was doing as he transitioned from one step to another with ease.
“I wish you’d told me earlier. The course is non-refundable, so I’ve got to go through with it now.”
“Ah well, your loss.” He shrugged. “And my rates would have been very reasonable.”
“You would have charged me?”
“Of course I would. You don’t think I’d have done it for nothing, do you?”
***
For some reason, I’d assumed the toy dealer’s shop would be much like every other toy shop I’d ever seen, but I was wrong. It was on a side street in the middle of the antiques sector of Washbridge. I knew the owner to be a man called Jerry Noble. The sign above the shop read: ‘Noble’. That was it. Not ‘Noble’s Toys’ or ‘Noble’s Antiques’—just ‘Noble’. A bell chimed as I opened the door. Inside, it was chock-a-block with all manner of toys including trains, dolls, dolls’ houses and lots of jack-in-the-boxes. They looked expensive and not the sort of thing you would give your children to play with.
“Hello?” The voice came from somewhere at the back of the shop. A few moments later a plump, well-dressed man in his late fifties, appeared. “Good day young lady, and how can I help you?”
“Jerry Noble?”
“That’s me. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“My name is Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”
“What kind of questions?”
“I’d like to talk to you about Colonel Briggs.”
“What a tragedy. Such a gentleman. Probably not much I can tell you. I didn’t know him all that well.”
“I believe you repaired a jack-in-the-box for him recently?”
“That’s right. He brought it in a week or two ago.”
“I understand that you actually offered to buy it?”
“I did, but the colonel wasn’t interested.”
“Did it need a lot of work?”
“Not really. Just a new spring. Not a long job for someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“And that would be you?”
“Precisely. The leading authority around these parts even if I do say so myself.”
The man was modest—I’d give him that much. “Is it all right if I take a look around?”
“Help yourself, but please be careful. Some of the pieces are rather fragile, and they’re all valuable.”
He took a seat at a desk and started shuffling papers around. I think he was keeping one eye on me to make sure I didn’t break anything.
I noticed that one corner of the shop was full of jack-in-the-boxes.
“Do you specialise in these?”
“They are a particular interest of mine. I’ve amassed quite a collection, and I’m considered to be something of an expert in the field.”
“Was the one that you repaired for the colonel valuable?”
“Not exceptionally, but a beautiful piece nonetheless.”
I spent another fifteen minutes looking around, then thanked him and left.
***
I’d tried numerous times to contact Rupert Hare, the owner of the shooting range, but every call had gone to voicemail. Even though I’d left several messages, he’d never got back to me. I’d even visited his house, but there’d been no answer. That left me with only one choice. If he wouldn’t agree to see me, I’d just have to find my own way inside.
The shooting range was in a large, steel barn, a short distance behind the house. It was probably less than half a mile from the colonel’s land, so I could see why noise from the shooting range might carry. It was relatively easy for me to gain access to the grounds as there was surprisingly little security—no magic needed on this occasion. I’d been a little worried there might be guard dogs, but that fear had proved to be groundless.
The barn was a modern, metal structure which appeared to have been custom-made to house the shooting range. The large sign on the front read: “Hare’s Shooting Range.” The large double doors on the front were locked, so I edged my way around the building, and eventually found a smaller door on one side. It too was locked, but there was a small gap under the door, which I figured I might just be able to squeeze under if I shrank myself. I cast the spell, and focused all my efforts into making myself smaller than I’d ever been before. I was barely the width of a matchstick as I lay down and rolled under the door.
Once inside, I double-checked to make sure there was no one around before reversing the spell. It was an impressive set up. At one end of the barn were the targets. They appeared to be divided into two sections: static targets and moving targets. At the other end of the barn was what appeared to be some sort of snack bar, outside of which were rows of lockers.
There was a small office to one side of the cafe. I tried the door; it wasn’t locked. Once inside, I spotted a number of leaflets and posters. From these, I could see that they catered for guns of all types as well as longbows and crossbows. Rupert Hare had just gone up one notch in my ‘persons of interest’ ratings.
Suddenly, the door to my left opened.
“What do you think you’re doing in here?” A tall man with a ginger moustache and hair to match came charging into the office. He quite obviously wasn’t pleased to see me there.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “And what are you doing here?” He was carrying a shotgun which was now pointed at me.
I cast the ‘illusion’ spell, and he immediately dropped the gun like a hot potato. Hardly surprising because from hi
s point of view, it had turned into a snake.
“What the—?” he gasped.
“I’m not sure the police would take kindly to you threatening people with a gun,” I said, as I reversed the spell. I figured he wouldn’t be in any hurry to pick it up again.
“Get out of here! Now!”
“I have some questions for you, first.”
“Why should I talk to you. Who are you anyway?”
“My name’s Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator. I’m investigating the death of Colonel Briggs. I assume you heard about that?”
“Yes. But what does that have to do with me?”
“I understand that you had a few issues with the colonel.”
“I certainly did. The stupid old fool was trying to close my business down.”
“As I understand it, you needed his permission to open the range in the first place. And that he gave you permission on the understanding you wouldn’t stay open after eight pm.”
“That stupid old fool fought me every step of the way. If it hadn’t been for Ben’s intervention, the colonel would never have allowed me to open in the first place.”
“His son? You know Ben?”
“He and I went to school together. Great guy. Not like his old man.”
“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. The colonel was good enough to give you the go ahead, but then you went back on your word not to stay open late?”
“How am I supposed to run this business if I can’t operate in the evening? The colonel was making a mountain out of a molehill. You could barely hear the sound of the guns from his land. If I had closed when he wanted me to, it would have cost me a lot of money, and I would probably have gone out of business.”
“So you had a grudge against the colonel?”
“Don’t put words into my mouth. I didn’t like the man, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”
“I noticed that you cater for crossbows as well as guns.”
“What of it?”
“It was a bolt from a crossbow that killed the colonel.”
That seemed to take him by surprise.
“I didn’t know that, but as I said, it has nothing to do with me.”
“Do you actually keep weapons on the premises?”
“Of course we do. A lot of our clients prefer not to keep their weapons at home. Some of them have children.”
“And do you have weapons which you lend out to customers?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you keep detailed records for all of them?”
“We have to by law.”
“How many crossbows do you have?”
He hesitated a moment too long. “Two.”
“You don’t sound very sure.”
“Look. If you must know, the records show we have three, but one went missing a few days ago.”
“Have you reported it?”
“Not yet. I thought it would turn up. Sometimes a customer decides to take one of the weapons home. They’re supposed to let us know when they do that, but occasionally—you know how it is—it doesn’t always work out. But these things usually resolve themselves within the week, so I saw no reason to report it.”
“But it hasn’t turned up yet?”
“Not yet.” He was getting more and more flustered. “I want you to leave now. I’ve nothing more to say to you.”
I did as he asked. I had more than enough to go on.
Chapter 12
I had no sooner left the shooting range than I got a call from the office.
“Jill, can you come back immediately.” The line was so bad, it sounded as though Mrs V was being strangled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Please come back now. It’s urgent!”
“I can hardly hear you, Mrs V. It’s a terrible line. You sound muffled. Can you speak up?”
She repeated the same words several times. Come back now. It’s urgent.
I jumped in the car, put my foot down, and fifteen minutes later, I was there.
“What’s wrong, Mrs V?”
“Nothing, dear. Why?”
“Your phone call?”
“What phone call?”
Had the SWS started to affect her short term memory?
“Just now. You rang, and said I had to come back to the office immediately.”
“I didn’t call you. Do you think you’ve been overdoing it? You’re looking a little tired around the eyes.”
“I’m perfectly fine. So you definitely didn’t call?”
“No, dear.”
Was I starting to crack up?
“It took you long enough,” Winky said.
“What do you mean?”
“I called you ages ago.”
“It was you? Why did you pretend to be Mrs V?”
“If you’d known it was me, you wouldn’t have taken any notice.”
“That’s not true.” It so was.
“I knew if you thought it was the old bag lady, you’d come running.”
“What’s so urgent, anyway?”
“It’s Bella’s birthday.”
“That’s why you had me rush back here? To tell me it’s Bella’s birthday? Great. Happy birthday, Bella.”
“I messed up. I forgot all about it. I didn’t send her a card or get her a present.”
“Of course you forgot. You’re a man. Well, when I say ‘man’—you know what I mean.”
“If she thinks I’ve forgotten, she’ll probably dump me.”
“And you’ll deserve it, for the way you two-time her.”
“Don’t get all moralistic on me. Do you want me to bring up your love life again?”
“No need for that.”
“You have to buy some flowers, and take them to her. Tell her I’ve been ill, so I wasn’t able to bring them earlier.”
“Where am I going to get flowers around here?”
“The minimarket around the corner sells them.”
“I’ve got better things to do than buy flowers for your girlfriend.”
“If you don’t, she’ll finish with me, and then I’ll be one miserable cat. Do you really want to live with me when I’m miserable?”
That would have been purgatory. “All right. I’ll do it.”
“You know where she lives, don’t you? You’ve been there before.”
“Yes. I know where she lives.”
“And get some nice ones. Don’t spare the expense.”
“Have you got any money?”
“I’m a bit short at the moment, but I’ll pay you back later.”
“I won’t hold my breath.”
“Thanks, Jill. You’re a diamond.”
“A mug more like.”
I made my way around to the minimarket. They had a surprisingly good selection of flowers, but I had no intention of forking out for the most expensive ones. I’m not completely stupid. Then, I headed for the apartment block where Bella lived.
A man answered the door. “Yes?”
It was only now that I realised the absurdity of my mission.
“Err—I have some flowers.”
“So I see.”
“They’re—err—for your—err—cat.”
“Pardon?”
“The flowers are for your cat. Bella, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I have a cat called Bella. You’ve bought her flowers?”
“No. That would be—stupid. No. They’re from Winky.”
“Who?”
“Winky. That’s my cat. He’s only got one eye—hence Winky.”
“Your cat bought flowers for my cat?”
“Well, technically, no. I bought them, obviously, but—I—err—there you go.”
I shoved the flowers into his hand, turned and rushed back to the lift. There was just no good way to explain the crazy.
***
After that episode, I needed to clear my head, so I decided to take a walk around town for a while. I’d only gone a few yards when I literally bumped into Be
tty Longbottom.
“Betty? Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
“You were miles away, Jill.”
“I was daydreaming. Aren’t you working today?”
“It’s my day off. We could look around town together, if you like.”
“I’d love to,” I lied. “But I have a couple of business things to do. Another time maybe.”
“Oh, okay.” She looked a little disappointed.
I wasn’t in the mood for Betty Longbottom. I needed some time alone.
I wandered from shop to shop, and even tried on a couple of dresses, but I didn’t actually buy anything. About an hour later, I’d just walked into Lingard’s store when I spotted Betty again in the distance. I was about to turn tail when I saw her pick up a bottle of perfume and drop it into her bag. Bold as you like. What was she up to? I followed her at a distance so she wouldn’t see me.
Her next stop was the jewellery counter. She was looking at a display of earrings, and as soon as the assistant’s attention was diverted by another customer, Betty slipped a pair into her bag. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I followed her into another shop where she did the same thing. This time she stole a small clutch bag. I didn’t know what to do. I could hardly confront her in the middle of the shop, so in the end, I made my way home, and waited for her outside my block of flats. As soon as she appeared, I intercepted her.
“Hi again, Jill. Did you get all your work stuff done?”
“Never mind that. What were you up to today, Betty?”
She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you put things into your bag without paying for them.”
She grinned. “Oh that? That’s nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing? It’s stealing. That’s what it is.”
