by Adele Abbott
“Hi, Jill.”
Speak of the devil.
“Hi, gorgeous.” Luther planted a kiss on Betty’s lips.
What? How? Why?
“Morning, Luthie.” Betty was positively glowing.
Luthie?
Was this some kind of practical joke? Had they staged this little charade for my benefit?
“Are you two—err—I mean—are you?” My brain had turned to mush.
“We are!” Betty gushed. “And it’s all thanks to you!”
“Yes. Thanks, Jill.” Luther flashed that sexy smile of his.
How had Betty Longbottom gone from Norman AKA Mastermind to sex god, Luther Stone?
“I’ve got to dash, Betty.” Luther planted another kiss on her lips. “Bye, Jill.”
I was still too stunned to speak.
“Don’t you think he’s sexy?” Betty said, once he’d left.
“I suppose. Can’t say I’d really thought about it.”
“Do you see anything you’d like to buy, Jill?”
She was doing a brisk trade, but that was hardly surprising. There were designer shoes, dresses, coats and handbags. Plus, jewellery and expensive perfume. All at rock-bottom prices.
“No, there isn’t anything I want to buy. What do you think you’re doing selling this stuff?”
“It’s taking up room in my flat.”
“You promised me you’d take it all back to the shops.”
“I know, but it would have taken too long. I thought the best thing I could do would be to sell it, and give the proceeds to charity.”
That was something, at least.
“Which charity?”
“Crustaceans Rescue And Preservation.”
“C.R.A.P?”
“Yes.”
You couldn’t make this stuff up.
***
A brand new bar had opened in Washbridge, so I decided to check it out. It was called Bar Fish, which I thought was an unusual choice of name, but when I walked inside I could see why. One whole wall was a gigantic fish tank filled with every size and shape of tropical fish imaginable. I was absolutely mesmerised. But it didn’t end there. Glass tubes ran along the walls, and below my feet were large tanks which ran the full length of the building. It was amazing!
The barman greeted me with a smile.
“This place is spectacular,” I said.
“It is kind of amazing, isn’t it?” The man’s waistcoat was covered in pictures of tropical fish.
“Could I have a small, white wine, please?”
“I’m sorry, madam. We only serve fishtails.”
“Fishtails?”
“It’s our version of a cocktail.”
“Oh, right. I see. Could I have the drinks list, then.”
Every drink was named after a tropical fish. “What would you recommend?”
“The Silver Shark is very nice. It’s not too strong for this time of day.”
“Okay, then. I’ll give it a try.”
Once I had my drink, I found a table close to the wall of fish. The fishtail was a little bitter, but perfectly acceptable.
“Jill!” a familiar voice said.
“Mr Ivers?”
“What do you think of this place?” he said. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. I can’t stay long, though. I have a meeting.” I thought I’d better get my excuses in early before he decided to join me.
“You must stay long enough to meet Tess.”
“Is she here?”
“Yes. She’s just popped to the loo.” He glanced around. “There she is now.”
I followed his gaze.
Oh no! Tess—I should have realised. It was Alicia.
“Tess.” Mr Ivers beamed. “This is Jill. She lives in the same block of flats as me.”
Tess, or Alicia, or whatever she was calling herself today, flashed me her evil smile, and held out her hand. “So pleased to meet you, Jill. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Likewise.”
Our handshake was brutal; neither of us gave an inch.
“I’m just going to pop to the loo myself,” Mr Ivers said. “And then we have to get going.”
“What are you playing at, Alicia?” I said, as soon as he was out of earshot.
“Who, me? Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. Do you expect me to believe it’s a coincidence that you’re dating my neighbour?”
“You know how much I love humans.”
“If you harm Mr Ivers, you’ll have me to answer to.”
“You don’t scare me, Gooder. Provided the human keeps me amused, he’ll be fine. But if he bores me, well—”
“I’m back.” Mr Ivers was all smiles. “I hope you two weren’t talking about me.”
“I think Jill may be a little jealous.” Alicia gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Mr Ivers blushed. “Come on, Tess. Let’s make tracks. We can go and have another look at those dresses you saw earlier.”
That woman was pure evil.
***
The twins were once again with their fiancés in Cuppy C. I’d never seen them spend so much time together. They were all seated at the same window table while a couple of their assistants were behind the counter.
At least, now the conveyor belt had been dismantled and taken away, I could get to them without having to crawl along the floor.
“Hi, guys.”
They all greeted me warmly.
“I see you got rid of the conveyor belt.”
“Good riddance!” Pearl said. “Amber and her bright ideas.”
“It wasn’t my idea!” Amber rounded on her sister. “It was yours.”
“Wasn’t!”
“Was!”
William rolled his eyes. Alan shook his head.
“Well, it’s gone now.” I interrupted. “That’s the main thing. Anyway, it’s nice to see you two spending time with your fiancés.”
“I don’t know why we bothered,” Amber said. “All these two want to talk about is BoundBall.”
“Boring!” Pearl faked a yawn.
Alan and William looked suitably chastised, but only for the briefest of moments. Then they went back to their conversation.
I’d been a guest of honour at the last BoundBall competition by way of thanks for finding the missing trophy. It had been a hugely popular event which had drawn a massive crowd.
Bingo! I’d had an idea.
“Can I join you for a few minutes?”
“Of course, pull up a chair.”
“Annie Christy came to see me.”
“How is she? And how’s her mum?”
“Fine, but Annie’s worried about SupAid. They’re struggling for donations. She asked if I could come up with any ideas for a fundraising event.”
“Have you thought of anything?” Amber said.
“I hadn’t, but I have now. What about if the women take on the men at BoundBall?”
Suddenly Alan and William looked up, and both began to laugh—hysterically.
“What’s so funny about that?” I didn’t bother trying to hide my annoyance at their reaction.
“Women?” Alan managed through his laughter. “Play BoundBall?”
“That’s a joke, right?” William said.
“Why shouldn’t women play BoundBall?”
“They never have. It’s a man’s sport,” William said.
I could feel my anger rising. A man’s sport?
“Okay, you two, so if I could organise this, I assume you’d be willing to give the women’s team a start?”
“We could give them a hundred start,” William said. “They’d still have no chance.”
“Right, you’re on. I’ll make the arrangements with Annie Christy. We’ll sort out a day and a venue, and we’ll whoop your asses.”
“Of course you will.” They both laughed.
“Anyway, we’d better be making tracks,” William said. “We’ll leave you women to come up with a game plan. You
’re going to need one.”
Alan and William were still laughing as they made their way out of the tea room. After they’d left, Amber and Pearl turned to me. They looked horrified.
“What were you thinking, Jill?” Amber said. “Women can’t take on the men at BoundBall, we’ll get slaughtered!”
“Of course we can. If they give us a hundred start, how difficult can it be?”
“Where are you going to get a team from?”
“I don’t know. I’ll put an advert in The Candle, and I can stick a flyer on your notice board. I’m sure it won’t be that difficult to assemble a team of women to take on the men. Let’s show them what we’re made of.”
“What do you mean, we?” Amber said. “I’m not playing.”
“Nor me,” Pearl said. “I’ve never played BoundBall.”
“Come on, girls, surely you’re not going to let me down?”
“You’re on your own, Jill. Best of luck.”
I called Annie Christy to give her the good news.
“Annie, I’ve think I’ve come up with an idea.”
“Really? What is it?”
“I thought we could organise a BoundBall match—men versus women.”
She went silent, and for a moment, I thought we’d been cut off.
“Annie, are you there?”
“Are you insane, Jill?”
Not quite the reaction I’d hoped for.
“No. I think it could work. It should stir up some interest.”
“Oh, it’ll definitely do that. Every man in Candlefield will be there to laugh at your team.”
“I don’t care. If it raises money, what does it matter? And besides which, they said we could have a hundred start. With that, I think we have a good chance of winning.”
“Okay, Jill. I’m happy to go along with it if you’re willing to organise a team.”
“Of course I am.”
“Okay then. We’ll talk again soon. Bye.”
Oh, bum! What had I let myself in for now?
***
I didn’t go shopping with Kathy very often because she usually ended up driving me insane. She could spend forever looking at shoes or handbags, and still end up buying nothing. Today though, she’d persuaded me to help her pick out some new curtains. As she’d rightly pointed out, I had impeccable taste when it came to soft furnishings.
We’d just come out of ‘It’s Curtains For You’, when I heard someone call my name. I didn’t recognise the woman at first, but then, when she got closer, I realised it was Dorothy’s mother, Dolly.
“Hello there, Dolly. What brings you to Washbridge?”
“I’m here to see how Dorothy is settling in.”
“How is she doing?”
“Very well, thank you. And it’s all down to you. It was great what you did—helping her to find that apartment. She really fell on her feet there. And her flatmates seem very nice. A little strange, but very nice.”
“I’m pleased I could help. This is my sister, Kathy. We’re shopping for curtains.”
“Pleased to meet you, Kathy.” Dolly smiled a toothy grin.
“You too, Dolly,” Kathy said. I could tell Kathy was desperate to ask who she was.
“I want to show my appreciation,” Dolly said. “For helping Dorothy.”
“There’s really no need. You’ve done that already.”
The ‘portrait’ she’d done of me was hidden away at the back of a cupboard in my flat.
“Perhaps I can do something for your sister?” She turned to Kathy. “Tell me dear, do you have a family?”
“I do. A husband, Peter, and we have two young children, Mikey and Lizzie.”
“That’s lovely. I’m an artist, you know. I’d love to paint a family portrait for you, if you’d allow me to?”
Oh no! I’d seen Dolly’s paintings. They were rubbish.
“We’d love that,” Kathy said, enthusiastically. “That’s so very generous of you.”
“My pleasure. Jill will give you my phone number. Give me a call to set up a date. Anyway, I must be getting back home. Bye, dears.”
She began to walk away, but then suddenly stopped and turned back. “By the way, Jill—next time you’re walking your dog, do call in and see Babs. She misses him so much.”
When she’d gone, Kathy looked at me. “Dog? What dog?”
“I think she must have mixed me up with someone else.”
Whoops!
Chapter 6
I hate the smell of paint.
I could smell it as soon as I walked into my office building. There were two workmen wearing white overalls: one at the top of a ladder, the other standing on the stairs. Zac Whiteside, my landlord, was just on his way out of the building.
“Hi Jill, how’s it going?”
“Hi, Zac. I see you’re sprucing the place up.”
“Yeah. Your friend and mine, Gordon Armitage, has been on my back for some time now to decorate the common areas. Between you and me, I’m beginning to regret ever leasing the offices to him. He’s more trouble than he’s worth. He rings me up almost every week with some complaint or other. You, and your father before you, have had that office forever, and I don’t think you’ve ever complained about anything.”
“They’re painting it orange?”
“That was Gordon’s idea. Apparently orange is the corporate colour of Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole. Although these are common areas, his company does occupy most of the building, so I agreed that we’d paint it in their colour. Anyway, I’ve got to go. See you around, Jill.”
Paint was dripping from the brush held by the man on the ladder, onto the head of the smaller guy below him.
“Hey! Do you mind?” The smaller guy looked up; it was Blaze. Only then did I realise the person on the ladder was Daze.
“Sorry, Blaze,” Daze said, but she didn’t look very sorry.
“Hiya, Daze,” I called.
“Hi, Jill. I thought this was where your office was.”
“I take it this is your latest job—painting and decorating?”
“Yeah, I’m quite enjoying it. Although I’m not over fond of the orange.”
“Me neither.”
She came down the ladder, and joined Blaze and me on the stairs.
“What are you really doing here?” I said. “Are you on a case?”
“Yeah, we’ve had reports that a goblin has infiltrated the law firm that shares the building with you.”
“What’s he been up to?”
“Changing people’s Wills.”
“That’s pretty despicable.”
“Typical goblin,” she said. “They’re masters at it. They ingratiate themselves with people—usually the elderly, who are vulnerable, and then persuade them to change their Wills in favour of themselves. Anyway, we’ve marked this guy’s card. We should have him out within a day or two.”
“That’s good, how’s it going with Haze?”
“Okay, thanks. He’s asked me to move in with him, but I haven’t decided if I will or not yet. I need time to think about it; I don’t want to rush into anything.”
“What about you, Blaze, how’s it going with Maze?”
“Okay, thanks. The only problem is she wants me to meet her parents, and between you and me, I’m a bit nervous about that.”
“You’ll be fine. I’d better get upstairs, and see what’s waiting for me. See you both later.”
***
When I walked into my office there was a large rectangular box—the size of a coffin—propped on two wooden stands on castors. What was going on now? This had Winky written all over it.
Then, he appeared, dressed in a dinner suit complete with bow tie.
“What are you up to, Winky?”
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re about to conduct a funeral.”
That’s when I noticed the digital recorder mounted on a tripod in the corner of the room.
“Are you recording this?�
��
“I will be doing in a minute.”
“What exactly is it you’re doing?” Did I really want to know?
“Recording my audition, obviously.”
“How silly of me not to realise.” I took a deep breath, and then let him have it. “What audition? And why is there a coffin in my office?”
He sighed. Winky had exasperation off to a fine art. “Firstly, this is not a coffin. It’s a prop. Secondly, I’m taping my audition for The Meow Factor.”
“Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”
“It’s the biggest talent competition in the feline world.”
“You mean like the X Factor?”
“Sort of. They copied the Meow Factor.”
“Don’t you have to go into the studios to audition?”
“No. Anyone can record and submit an audition of their act. The judges at Meow Factor view them all, and invite the top sixteen onto the live show.”
“I’m really not sure the world is ready for an undertaker/light entertainer.”
“I’m not an undertaker. I’m The Great Winkini.”
“The great what?”
“Winkini. The world’s premier magician.”
“Ah, right! That’s why you’re wearing that get-up. I still don’t get the coffin, though.”
“This prop is part of my act. Surely you’ve seen the ‘saw the lady in half’ trick?”
“Isn’t that a little ambitious? Particularly if you’re recording it? If anything goes wrong, the evidence is there for the police to see.”
“Nothing will go wrong. You’re talking to a professional here.”
“Okay. Well, good luck with it. I don’t envy whoever is going in the box.”
He grinned.
“Hold on a minute. You surely don’t think I—”
“Why not? All you have to do is lie down for a few minutes.”
“If you think I’m getting into that box, and letting you come anywhere near me with a saw, you’ve got another think coming.”
“Fair enough. I’ll get Jules to do it.”
“No, you can’t involve that poor young girl.”
“If you won’t do it, what choice do I have?”
Poor old Jules. I was probably going to have to let her go. I could hardly put her through this ordeal too.
