by Adele Abbott
“Pelican.”
“Whatever. It’s a travesty if you ask me. Anyway, you can’t let the old bag lady loose on the roads.”
“I shouldn’t worry about it. She probably won’t go through with it.”
“Let’s hope not. Anyway, onto more important matters. You haven’t forgotten you’re taking me to speed dating tonight, have you?”
“How could I? You’d better hook up with someone because this is definitely a one-off.”
“There are no worries on that score. I expect to come away with at least half a dozen phone numbers.”
“All of them attracted by your good looks and modesty, no doubt.”
The land-line rang.
“Jill, I have a man on the line,” Mrs V said. “I didn’t catch his name, but I’m sure he said he was Sir something. Shall I put him through?”
Sir? I liked the sound of that. It was about time I started to attract a better class of client. I was tired of dealing with commoners.
“Yes, put him through, please.”
“Hasbene here. Can I speak to Mr Gooder or Mr Maxwell?”
“I’m Jill Maxwell. How can I help?”
Just then, I caught sight of Winky who seemed to be giving me a strange look. I ignored him.
“Is Mr Gooder, there?”
“There is no Mr Gooder.”
“I’m sure I saw his name on your sign when I was in town the other day.”
“There was a mix-up with my new sign. I used to be Jill Gooder but now I’m Jill Maxwell.”
“And you’re a woman?”
“Err—yeah.”
“And a private investigator?”
“That’s right.”
“I suppose you’ll have to do, then. How soon can you come and see me?”
“Could you give me an idea of what it’s about?”
“There’s no time for that now. I’m due at the polo club in thirty minutes.”
“Depending on where you are, I could probably get out to see you this afternoon.”
“That won’t work for me, I’m afraid. I have croquet straight after the polo. How about Monday?”
“I can do that. Where are you?”
“Hasbene Hall. It’s on the North Wash Road. Can we say ten o’clock?”
“Ten’s fine.”
“I’ll see you then. Don’t be late. I can’t abide tardiness.”
“I’ll be there.”
Winky jumped up onto my desk. “Be careful. Don’t swallow that plum!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why were you speaking in that stupid posh voice?” He laughed, and then mimicked me, “My name is Jill Maxwell. How can I help?”
“I did not sound like that.”
“Yes, you did. All that la-di-da nonsense won’t do you any good. As soon as you let the act slip, he’ll realise you’re as common as muck.”
“Remind me again, how are you getting to the speed dating?”
“Just my little joke. No offence meant.”
The land-line rang again.
“Jill, it’s that horrible Bugle man.”
“Okay, put him through, Mrs V.”
“Jill, it’s Dougal. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I wondered if you’d had the chance to look at the hit-and-run yet?”
“Not yet, Dougal, but like I said, there isn’t much to go on.”
“I appreciate that, but there’s definitely something not right here. Please will you see what you can find out?”
“Okay. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, but I’m not optimistic.”
I still hadn’t got used to the all-new Dougal Andrews. The death of Donna Lewis had obviously had a profound effect on him. Was it possible that they had been more than just work colleagues?
The hit-and-run was a complete mystery, and I didn’t even know where to begin, but then I remembered something. It was a long shot; a very long shot, but still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
It took a few minutes, but I eventually found the tattered business card, which I’d thrown into the top drawer of my desk. I punched the number into my mobile phone.
“Yes?” The man’s voice was just as I remembered it.
“Is that—err—Manic?”
“Manic speaking.”
“It’s Jill Maxwell. You came to see me recently.”
“What can Manic do for you?”
There he went again, referring to himself in the third person.
“I’m working on a rather strange case, and I was just wondering—err—you said that—err—”
“Give me the details.”
I told him what little I knew about Donna Lewis’ death: That she’d been killed in a hit-and-run in West Chipping, which the police believed to have been caused by joyriders.
“Manic assumes there’s more to it than that?”
“Donna’s husband is convinced she was murdered because she was working undercover on a big story. The problem is that no one knows what she was working on. This could all be something and nothing.”
“What’s in it for Manic?”
“Sorry?”
“When Manic finds out what really happened to the woman, what’s in it for him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t normally work with third parties. What do you suggest?”
“I’ll take twenty-five percent of whatever fee you make.”
“Okay, I guess.”
“And remember, Manic will know if you short-change him.”
“I would never do that.”
“Manic will be in touch.”
The line went dead, and I was left feeling like I needed to disinfect the phone, and take a shower.
***
I had an appointment with Joyce Carmichael, the proprietor of Complete Care, the agency that had employed Annette Banks. Her offices were on West Street, so as I was running a little early, I called in at Kathy’s shop first.
“I see you’re run off your feet,” I said.
“This is the first quiet period I’ve had all day.” She put down the magazine she’d been reading.
“I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t.”
“It’s true. I had three new customers this morning alone. While I was serving one of them, I caught your grandmother looking through the window—she looked livid.”
“Why? You haven’t been upsetting her, have you?”
“She thought she could move in next door and take all of my trade, but I’m kicking her backside.”
“Good for you.” Just then, something caught my eye. “What’s this?” I picked up one of the glossy flyers for Mr Hosey’s wedding train business. “That’s me on there!”
“I assumed you knew. He must have taken the photo when we arrived at the hotel.”
“I knew Mr Hosey was pushing his new business, but I didn’t realise he was using my picture on his flyers.”
“You do kind of owe him. He did come to our rescue that day.”
“I guess so, but how come you’re handing these out? What’s in it for you?”
“I get ten percent of any orders he gets as a result of the flyers I give out.” She pointed to the code on the bottom of the order form. “See that? That tells him the order came from us. Good, eh?”
“I suppose so.”
“Pete and I are looking forward to the weekend. No kids and lots of spooky ghosts. Whooo, whooo.” She waved her arms around like some kind of lunatic.
“Is that supposed to be an impression of a ghost?”
“Why don’t you just admit you’re scared?”
“Because I’m not.”
“I suppose you don’t believe in them?” she said.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I definitely believe in ghosts, but I don’t believe this hotel is haunted. It’s just a hoax to get gullible people like you to stay there.”
“We’ll see. Just don’t come screaming to me when you see one.”
***
“Thanks for agreeing to see me, Mrs Carm
ichael.”
“No problem, and please call me Joyce. I’m happy to do anything if it helps to find Annette.”
“How, exactly, does your business work, Joyce?”
“We provide care assistants to individuals, but mainly to care homes who prefer not to employ their own staff.”
“How did you get along with Annette?”
“She’s a darling. I wish I had a hundred more like her. Don’t get me wrong, most of the people on our books are caring and conscientious, but because of the rapid turnover of staff in this industry, we still get a few who are not really suited to the caring profession. Annette was reliable and never caused me any problems.”
“Would it surprise you to know that, in the note she left, she mentioned feeling stressed by her job?”
“Not really. The job can be stressful and upsetting from time to time, but Annette seemed to take it all in her stride. Until recently at least.”
“Did something change?”
“She’d been at the same care home for over a year without any problems, but then a few weeks ago, she asked about a transfer.”
“Did she say why?”
“No, and I didn’t like to push her. I promised I’d try and arrange a swap, but then the next thing I knew, she stopped coming into work. It was only when I contacted her flatmate that I discovered she’d run away. I was very surprised. The least I would have expected from her was a phone call. I do hope she’s alright.”
“The fact that she left a note is promising. It suggests she left of her own accord.”
“That’s what I don’t understand. If she chose to leave, why are you investigating her disappearance?”
“Her parents think there may be more to this than meets the eye. To be perfectly honest with you, I think they’re wasting their money, but if it puts their mind at rest, I guess it’ll be worth it.”
“I do hope she’s okay.”
“Just one more thing. Could you tell me the name of the care home where Annette had been working?”
“Sure. It was Washbridge Lakeview Care Home.”
Chapter 10
Because of Winky’s stupid speed dating thing, I wasn’t going to get my dinner until late o’clock. I needed something to keep me going until then, so on my way back to the office, I called in at Coffee Games.
I’d no sooner got through the door than a miniature frying pan came sailing through the air. Moments later, I had to duck to avoid a tiny shovel.
“I take it that it’s Buckaroo day?” I said to the young man behind the counter who, in the spirit of the game, was dressed as a cowboy.
“It certainly is. Would you like one?”
“No, thanks. Just a caramel latte, please. Oh, and one of those blueberry muffins.”
“Don’t you like Buckaroo?” he asked, as a tiny guitar landed on the counter.
“It’s alright, but I was more of a Pop-up Pirate kid myself, actually.”
“You should have been here yesterday, then. I make a pretty good pirate even if I do say so myself.”
Before I could take a seat, someone called my name.
“Jill! Come and join us.” It was Betty Longbottom; she was sitting next to Sid.
I shuffled onto the bench seat opposite them.
“Come on, Sid.” Betty sighed. “How much longer do you need?”
“I’m not sure where to put it.” He had a miniature lantern in his hand, and was trying to decide whereabouts on the mule to place it.
“Do you like Buckaroo, Jill?” Betty said.
“It’s okay.”
“This is our fifth game and so far, I’ve won them all.”
At that precise moment, Sid put the lantern onto the mule, which immediately kicked everything into the air.
“Five-none!” Betty punched the air. “Loser!”
“I’m going.” Sid skulked off.
“He’s such a bad loser,” said Betty, the ever so gracious winner.
“I haven’t seen you since—err—”
“The Grand Opening?” She frowned. “It didn’t turn out to be so grand, did it?”
“What’s happening now with The Sea’s The Limit?”
“We’re still pressing ahead, but it’ll be a while until we can open because we have to wait for the insurance money to come through for the smashed tank. The new tanks are much more expensive than those we had before, but at least they should be safe.”
“How did Finn take the soaking?”
“He wasn’t best pleased, but luckily for us, he’s got other things on his mind. Do you remember the jumper he was wearing?”
“Err—vaguely.”
“It was part of his new range of knitwear. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed, but loads of them have popped up around Washbridge. Someone is making knock-off copies.”
“That’s terrible. Any idea who it could be?”
“No, but I think Finn has his legal people on it.”
“Good luck with that.” Grandma would run rings around them.
“Sorry?”
“I said—err—I wish them good luck with that. It’s despicable what some people will do.”
“You never told me that Jack was giving up his job to join you in the business.”
“You’re referring to the sign, I assume? No, the sign-maker messed up. Jack and I could never work together like you and Sid do.”
“To tell you the truth, Jill, I sometimes think it was a mistake for us to run a business together. I love Sid, but he’s got no drive. Not like me and you.”
“Do you ever see anything of Norman?”
“Occasionally. He’s moved in with what’s-her-face.”
“Tonya, the memory woman?”
“You’ve met her, then?”
“Many times, but you’d never think so. Every time I went into WashBets, I had to remind her who I was.”
“I didn’t have you down as a gambler, Jill.”
“I’m not, but I sometimes had to go and see her boss, Ryan. He’s the boyfriend of Megan Love, our ex-next-door neighbour.”
“Tonya has quit WashBets. She’s working with Norman in his bottle top emporium now.”
“I’m amazed that place is still going. Who would have thought you could make a business out of selling bottle tops?”
“Talking of weird business ideas, have you seen the new place that’s about to open, two doors down from me?”
“No, what is it?”
“An internet café.” She laughed. “Who in their right mind would open one of those today when almost everyone has the internet on their phone?”
When I left the coffee shop, Betty was still practising her Buckaroo technique.
On my way back up the high street, curiosity got the better of me, so I crossed the road to take a look at the new internet café. It wasn’t open yet, but two men were in the process of installing a sign.
“You two don’t happen to work for Sid Song by any chance, do you?”
“Nah, these are Rusty Signs.”
“Why would anyone buy a rusty sign?”
“That’s the boss’ name: Rusty.”
“Right. That makes more sense.”
“I heard that Sid Song had an accident. Do you want a sign making?”
“No, it’s okay. Sid is already supplying one for me.” At least, I lived in hope that he would.
They each grabbed one end of the sign, and for the first time, I saw what it said: Have Ivers Got Internet For You.
Oh dear.
***
I’d no sooner arrived at my offices:
Beep, beep.
I only just managed to avoid Mrs V, as she came sailing past in her office chair.
“You really should be more careful, Jill,” she scolded.
“Pardon me, but I wasn’t expecting to find you speeding around the office in your chair.”
“I’ll have you know that I was well below the speed limit.”
“Even so, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to ride around the o
ffice like that.”
“How else am I supposed to practise using the steering wheel?”
“Just be careful. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I think I’m beginning to get the hang of it now. Watch me.”
I took a few steps back until my back was up against her desk. Hopefully, I’d be out of harm’s way there.
“Here goes!” She propelled herself across the room. “Turning right.” She turned the toy steering wheel to the right.
I could see what she was trying to do, but then she pushed on the floor with the wrong foot, so instead of turning right, she turned left, straight into the wool basket, which toppled over.
“Are you okay?” I rushed over to her.
“I’m fine. Don’t fuss. I just got my legs mixed up, that’s all.”
“I’m not sure how doing this is going to help with the real thing.”
“You may be right. Perhaps I should just concentrate on the pedal thingies and the flasher.”
“Flasher?”
“You know. The thing which flashes on and off when you turn a corner.”
“Oh, right, you mean the indicator.”
“That’s the one. I think I’ll focus on those.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“How do I look?” Winky said.
I studied him for a moment. “The bow tie is a bit much.”
“Do you really think so? What about the jacket?” He did a little twirl.
“I like the colour, but is velvet really a good idea?”
“I’ve always thought that velvet says a lot about a cat.”
“O—kay. Anyway, I have some visitors coming soon. You can’t let them see you dressed like that.”
“That’s alright. I only wanted to show you. I’ll take these off until it’s time to go. Who are the visitors?”
“A couple of social media gurus that Grandma has set me up with.”
“What? Are you crazy? Why would you waste your time with amateurs when you have a real social media expert right here in your office?”
“That’s you, I suppose?”
“Who else? There’s nothing this cat doesn’t know about social media.”
