by Adele Abbott
“I’m sorry, Jill. I couldn’t tell you earlier in case you warned him.”
“Warned him of what? That the Washbridge police are useless? What were you thinking? You know Peter could never do something like this.”
“All the evidence points to him.”
“What evidence?”
“His fingerprints are on the bolt.”
“He explained that!”
“He has the only key.”
“What about the one that went missing?”
“And we’ve just found the crossbow in his shed.”
That took the wind out of my sails for a moment, but I quickly recovered.
“The colonel’s son must have planted it there. He was up here a few days before the colonel was murdered. It turns out he’s quite friendly with Rupert Hare who owns the shooting range on the next property. A crossbow went missing from the range around the same time as Ben was here.”
“Did Hare actually say that Ben took it?”
“No. In fact, he’s adamant that he didn’t.”
“What proof do you have that he did, then?”
“None as yet. I’ve only just found out about it myself, but surely it must cast doubt on Peter’s guilt. My guess is that Ben took the crossbow, killed his father and then planted it in Peter’s shed. He must have known that the police would uncover it sooner or later, and put two and two together and get five.”
“Ever the diplomat.”
“Sorry. But now you know Ben stole the crossbow, surely you have to take another look at him?”
“And we will.”
“So you’ll release Peter?”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“That’s ridiculous! You have to—”
“Sorry, Jill. I have to go. I’ll keep you posted.”
Mrs V’s cup of tea had calmed Kathy down a little, so I brought her up-to-date.
“Pete didn’t do it!” she said, wiping away a tear.
“Of course he didn’t. The police will work that out—eventually.”
“How long is eventually? Will they keep him overnight?”
“I hope not. Look, you’d better get back home to take care of the kids. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“You have to get him out, Jill.”
“I will. I promise.”
***
An hour after Kathy had left, I was still trying to figure out what on earth I should do when my phone rang. It was Jack Maxwell again.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said, cryptically.
“Go on.”
“The good news is we’ve released Peter.”
I sighed with relief. “What’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is we won’t be arresting Ben.”
“Why not? He took the crossbow. You know he must have planted it in the shed.”
“We’re pretty sure you’re right about that, and we will file charges eventually. Probably theft.”
“But surely you should be charging him with the murder of his father?”
“We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because the bolt that killed the colonel wasn’t fired from that crossbow.”
“What?”
“The forensics show it would have been impossible.”
“So what did fire it?”
“We have no idea, and until we do, this enquiry is going nowhere fast.”
By the time I got back to my flat, I was utterly confused. I’d been so sure that we had Ben banged to rights. He’d obviously planted the crossbow in the shed, so how could that not be the murder weapon? It didn’t make any sense.
I was peckish, so I shoved a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. I was still deep in thought when suddenly the toast shot across the worktop.
Eureka!
***
I was sure I was onto something in the hunt for the colonel’s murderer, but it would have to wait because I’d promised to attend the Tea Room of the Year Awards which were to be held in the Crown Hotel.
Everyone was dressed to the nines: Aunt Lucy, Lester, the twins and their fiancés, Alan and William. Even Grandma had made the effort.
Everybody was in good spirits, and the twins were particularly excited. They were confident that they were going to win, and rightly so. After all, their tea room was one of the best, if not the best, in Candlefield, and certainly their cupcakes were second to none.
The hotel itself was something of a let-down. It was in dire need of a lick of paint, but at least the room where the ceremony was to be held had been decked out nicely. We were seated at a table very close to the front.
“Not far for us to walk to get our award,” Amber said.
“We’ll go up together.” Pearl could barely contain her excitement.
Alan and William were chatting to each other. They were clearly more interested in discussing BoundBall than they were in the tea room awards.
“The service isn’t very good in here,” Grandma complained, holding up an empty glass, and trying to catch the attention of one of the waitresses.
“Mother, you’ve only just sat down, and that’s your second drink.” Aunt Lucy tutted.
“I’m thirsty. What’s wrong with that?”
“We’ll be here for three hours. You need to pace yourself.”
“I don’t need a lecture from you on how much to drink, Lucy. Besides, there’s one important fact you’ve overlooked.”
“What’s that?”
“The drinks are free.”
Aunt Lucy sighed. Arguing with Grandma was pointless. Hopefully she wouldn’t drink too much. I didn’t fancy the idea of having to carry her home.
For the first part of the evening, we were entertained by a tribute band, who seemed to me to be out of tune, but the twins obviously enjoyed them. After the band had finished their set, a comedian took to the stage. He was about as funny as Mr Ivers was interesting. But again, the twins and even Aunt Lucy and Grandma seemed to enjoy his act, so maybe I wasn’t yet attuned to the sup sense of humour.
Finally, we came to the main event of the evening. The compere walked to the front of the stage, and looked out on the crowd.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The inaugural Candlefield Tea Room of the Year Awards.”
“It’s exciting, isn’t it Jill?” Amber said.
“Yeah, very.” Yawn.
“We’ve got this in the bag,” Pearl said.
“It gives me great pleasure to announce the winners.” Drum roll. “In third place, a newcomer to the tea room scene, but with an excellent score from the judges. Please, give it up for Best Cakes!”
Miles Best and Mindy Lowe made their way onto the stage to collect their trophy. The twins clapped, but I could see that their hearts weren’t in it.
“And in second place, one of Candlefield’s oldest and best established tea rooms, Cute Cakes!”
Once again, the room was filled with applause, and from somewhere at the back, two elderly witches made their way slowly to the stage to collect their award. The twins again applauded; more genuinely this time, I felt.
“This is it!” Amber said. “Are you ready Pearl?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
The two of them were already on their feet by the time the compere made his final announcement.
“And the winner of this year’s Tea Room of the Year competition is—” Another, even longer drum roll. “Whiz Cakes!”
The twins had actually begun to walk towards the stage, and had to do a quick U-turn back to their seats.
“Whiz Cakes?” Amber said.
“Whiz Cakes?” Pearl repeated.
They both looked at me. I shrugged. “Never mind. Maybe next year.”
“What went wrong?” Amber sounded despondent.
“What happened, Jill?” Pearl glared at me.
“Beats me. The judges seemed perfectly happy as far as I could tell.”
&n
bsp; “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the compere continued. “I would like you to welcome on stage our esteemed judges who visited each of the tea rooms in this year’s competition. Please welcome, Paul Andrews and Andrea Davis, your judges.”
The man and woman who walked on stage were not the smartly dressed couple who I’d assumed were the judges, but there was something familiar about them. Where did I know them from? Then, I remembered. Oh no! It was the young man and woman I’d hurried out of the shop to make way for the couple I’d thought were the judges. I’d kicked the judges out of Cuppy C. If the twins realised, I was a dead woman.
“They’re not the couple you told us were the judges,” Pearl said, accusingly.
“How did you miss the real judges, Jill?” It was Amber’s turn to glare at me.
“I didn’t. Those two never came into the shop,” I lied. “I would have remembered them.”
“Are you sure you weren’t asleep at the wheel?” Amber pressed.
“Positive. The whole competition must have been rigged.” I was clutching at my last straw.
The twins thought about it for a minute, and then both nodded.
“You’re right,” Pearl said. “It’s a set-up. The other tea rooms must have done this because Cuppy C has been so successful.”
“We should lodge a formal complaint.” Amber looked most indignant.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said.
If they did, the truth would no doubt come out, and I’d be toast.
“You should rise above it. Take the moral high ground. You don’t need a silly award to prove Cuppy C is the best tea room in Candlefield.”
“You’re right, Jill,” Pearl said.
“Yeah, we’ll take the moral high ground.” Amber agreed.
Phew! Another bullet dodged.
***
The next morning, still feeling really guilty about the tea room awards fiasco, I went back to see Jerry Noble.
“Hello, young lady. I see more of you than I do my lady wife. But then we are divorced.” He laughed at his own joke.
“I just have one quick question for you, please, Mr Noble. Are you absolutely certain that the jack-in-the-box wasn’t damaged like that when the colonel collected it from you?”
“Absolutely. It was in pristine condition when it left these premises.”
“Right. Thank you very much.” I turned to leave.
“And anyway, it wasn’t the colonel who picked it up. It was Ben. He collected it while his father was away.”
Chapter 16
It took all my powers of persuasion to get Ben to see me again. He’d only agreed because I’d made up a story about his father asking me to look into the dealings of his off-shore bank. There was of course no such off-shore bank account, but Ben could smell money, and that was enough.
“I don’t have time to waste with you.” He came storming into the toy room where I’d insisted we meet. “So just hand over all the files you have on my father.”
“I don’t have any files.” I walked across the room, and picked up the recently repaired jack-in-the-box. “And there isn’t an off-shore bank account.”
“What are you doing with that? Put it down.”
“What’s wrong, Ben? Not scared of a jack-in-the-box, are you?”
“It belongs to me now. Just put it down!”
“Why are you so keen to sell it, Ben? Why are you so eager to get it out of the house?”
“Put it down!”
I held it, so the lid was facing him. “You and I have something in common.”
“I doubt that!” He spat the words.
“It’s true. Before I became a private investigator, I did a degree in engineering,” I lied.
“So? Why should I care?”
“I was fascinated with the work you’d done on this jack-in-the-box.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was clear from his expression that he knew exactly what I was talking about.
“I decided to try to emulate your work, and I believe I have succeeded. Would you like to see?”
“No!” He began to back away, but I kept pace with him.
“Why don’t I just open the lid and show you?”
“No!” He screamed.
“Why did you do it Ben?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s pointless lying now. Unless you’d like me to open the box?”
“No!”
“Why did you kill your father?”
“He never cared for me. Never once! All he ever cared about were those stupid dogs of his.”
“That’s still no reason to kill him.”
“He was going to leave everything to those dogs. Everything. I’m his son. His flesh and blood. How could he do that?”
“So you decided to take matters into your own hands? You decided to kill him before he could change his Will.”
“You can’t prove a thing.”
“You rigged the jack-in-the-box to fire the bolt, didn’t you? You inserted a firing mechanism, so that when your father opened it, it would fire the bolt, and then close the lid, didn’t you, Ben?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. And then after the SOCO had left, you removed the firing mechanism. It was small and easy to secrete, even when the police were around. It would have been much more difficult to walk out with the jack-in-the-box itself. Someone would have asked questions. That’s why you brought the toy dealer in, isn’t it? If he’d bought it, as you’d hoped, you might have got away with it. But in your rush to remove the firing mechanism, you damaged the box, so Jerry Noble was no longer interested.” I pointed the box at him again. The firing mechanism I’ve fitted works a dream. Would you like to see?”
“No!” He cowered against the wall.
“Time to talk to the police, I think.”
“I’ll deny everything. It’ll be your word against mine.” A smile played over his lips. “In fact, you’ve done me a favour. By fitting the new firing mechanism, you will have obscured all traces of the original.”
His smile turned to a grin.
“There’s one slight flaw in that theory, Ben.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
I slid the catch aside, and the lid flew open. Ben screamed and dived for cover, but then looked up to see the jack had popped up in the box.
“I never actually fitted a firing mechanism, but I did record the last few minutes of our conversation on my phone.” I pointed to the shelf where I’d put my smartphone before Ben arrived. “I think the police will find that footage quite interesting.”
While he was still stunned, I used the ‘tie-up’ spell to bind his feet and hands, and then called Jack Maxwell.
***
As soon as I walked into Kathy’s house, she gave me a great big hug.
“Get off!” I tried to pull away.
“Thank you so much, I’m so grateful to you.”
“It’s okay. Just let me go.” I wasn’t overly keen on being hugged.
Peter looked pretty shocking, but he still managed a smile.
“How’s it going?” I said.
“I’m glad to be a free man again. For a while there, I thought they were actually going to charge me with the colonel’s murder.”
“So, what happens now?”
“I guess I’m out of work again. I really loved that job, but now I’m back to square one.” He shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll find something. I’ve done it before.”
“Jill, I’ve got a surprise for you,” Kathy interrupted. A surprise from my sister usually wasn’t good news.
“You know I don’t like surprises.”
“You’ll like this one. Trust me.” Trust Kathy? Not likely.
She led me into the kitchen. “Close your eyes.”
“No. I don’t—”
“Just close your eyes. I promise you’ll like it.”
I did as she said, and waited
for her to do something horrible to me. But then, she took my hand, and placed it on something which felt very custard creamy.
“Giant custard creams!”
“It was the least I could do. When I knew Pete was on his way home, I popped out to buy some. I had intended to get the regular size, but I saw these, and thought you deserved them.”
“Thank you.”
“Auntie Jill, Auntie Jill!” Lizzy came running into the room. “I still haven’t spent a day with you at your office.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Lizzy. I’ve been busy trying to get your daddy back home.”
“Well, he’s home now, so can I come?”
“Yeah, as soon as I can get something sorted out, I’ll let your mummy know.”
“Will it be soon?”
“Yeah, very soon, I promise.”
Just then, Mikey came into the room. He was playing his drum—as per usual.
“I hate that thing,” Kathy said. “It drives me mad. That’s all he does these days. I bought him a new toy car because I thought that might take his mind off it. But he only played with it for thirty seconds, and then started banging his stupid drum again.”
“I’ve told you before. You should wait until he’s asleep, then throw it in the bin.”
“Yeah. Great idea, Jill. Because that wouldn’t cause any problems at all.”
“So what are you going to do about it then?”
“There’s nothing I can do, apart from hoping he gets bored with it, but there’s not much sign of that happening.”
“I’ve got a better idea.”
“Go on. I’ll listen to any suggestions at the moment.”
“Coffee Triangle.”
“Isn’t that the new coffee shop just down the road from ‘Ever’? How’s that going to help?”
“You know what they do down there, don’t you?”
“I know they play instruments. Your grandmother’s always complaining about the noise.”
“It’s a percussion themed coffee shop. Every day, they focus on a different percussion instrument: gongs, triangles, tambourines and so on. They have a drum day.”
“Please, don’t ever take me there on drum day.”
“I wasn’t thinking of taking you, but what if I took Mikey? The noise in that place on drum day is unbelievable. It’s enough to burst your eardrums. It will be so bad that he’ll never want to play a drum again.”
