by Adele Abbott
They both stood up.
“Our job is done here,” Dom said.
“Yeah.” Nick gave me a wink. “It’s been a blast.”
And with that they were gone.
Winky was sitting in the windowsill, grinning from ear to ear.
“What’s amusing you?” I said.
“The thought of you on Twitter. That I’ve got to see.”
“If my grandmother can do it, I’m sure I can.”
“You’ve got a long way to go to catch her up. I just checked, and she has over twenty-thousand followers on Twitter.”
“That sounds like a lot. I’m just not sure what sort of thing I should Twitter.”
“You don’t Twitter, you tweet. Why not post a status update on your paperclip sorting?”
“Shut up!”
***
I was still trying to work out what my first tweet should be when my phone rang.
“Is that Jill?”
“Speaking.”
“It’s Rita Markham from Lakeview Care Home. You asked me to ring you.”
“Thanks for calling. I’d really like for us to get together for a chat.”
“You can’t come to my house.” I could hear the fear in her voice.
“Okay. Could you come to my office, then?”
“No. Someone might be watching.”
The woman was beginning to sound slightly paranoid, but I was prepared to do whatever it took to get a sit-down with her.
“How about meeting in a coffee shop? Could you do that?”
“I suppose so. Where?”
“There’s one on the high street called Coffee Games.”
“Is that the one that used to be called Triangle?”
“That’s the one. I could meet you there in ten minutes if you like?”
“I can’t make it this morning.”
“How about this afternoon, then?”
“I—err—okay.”
“What time?”
“Three?”
“Three o’clock it is. I’ll see you then.”
When I’d tried to talk to Rita at the care home, she’d been nervous, and now she was absolutely petrified that someone might see her speaking to me. Could this have anything to do with why Annette was so stressed before she disappeared? Hopefully, I’d soon find out.
“There, done it!” I said.
“Done what?” Winky feigned interest.
“Sent my first tweet.”
“This should be good. What does it say?”
“I’m on Twitter.”
“So, let me get this straight.” He grinned. “You’ve sent a tweet to say that you’re on Twitter?”
“That’s right.”
“Inspired.”
Chapter 16
What exactly was I supposed to share on my Instagram account?
Cats! Everyone likes a photo of a cat.
“Winky, come here.”
“I’m busy.”
“You aren’t doing anything.”
“I’m contemplating the world and my place in it.”
“I just want to take a photo of you.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” He jumped onto my desk. “Make sure you get my good side.”
“I was thinking of something less staged. Something more, I don’t know, cat-like.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you could play with something.”
“My yoyo is under the sofa. Shall I get that?”
“Err—no—I meant something that a normal cat would play with.”
“Normal?”
“I didn’t mean—err, I meant—”
“I’ve still got the helicopter. That might be better?”
Fortunately, at that moment, my phone rang; it was Bob Bobb.
“Jill, are you busy?”
“I am a little. What is it?”
“I wondered if you could pop over. There’s something I’d like to show you. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
“Okay. Where are you?”
“In Slurp coffee shop.”
I magicked myself straight over there.
“Back again?” The creepy guy behind the counter flashed me a grin. “The job’s still going if you want it.” He pointed to the job ad on the wall behind him.
“Sorry, I’m still not interested.”
“Jill!” Bob Bobb was seated near the back of the shop. “Thanks for coming over. Can I get you a drink?”
“Not for me, thanks. I can’t stay long.” I gestured to the man behind the counter. “He’s a charmer, isn’t he?”
“Driller? He’s okay—just a bit rough around the edges.”
“He makes my flesh crawl.”
“I wanted to show you this.” He passed me a copy of The Candle newspaper. “Check out page eight.”
I flicked to the page where I found a full-page advert for Mimage.
“It’s outrageous!” Bob spat the words.
There was no wonder he was so angry. Even though the advertisement didn’t mention them by name, it was clearly a blatant hatchet job on the bigxies mirror image service. Amongst other things, it said:
Tired of your mirror image arriving late?
Tired of your mirror image falling asleep on the job?
If you’ve been let down by your current mirror image service, maybe it’s time to try the new, ultra-reliable Mimage.
“They seem to know a lot about the problems you’ve been experiencing,” I said.
“Of course they do. They’re behind all of them. It makes my blood boil.”
“Have you seen this?” I pointed to a section of small text at the bottom of the ad. “It says they’re recruiting more witches and wizards.”
“I’m not surprised. We’ve lost another four contracts to them only this week. If things carry on like this, we’ll be out of business before the end of the year.”
“They’re holding interviews this Thursday. I might just go, to see if I can get a closer look at their operation.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Or I could just go around there and bust heads.”
“I know you’re angry, Bob, but you mustn’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“I have to get back, but I’ll keep you posted.”
***
I was due to see Rita Markham at three in Coffee Games, but first, Joanne Carling, Lady Hasbene’s sister, had agreed to talk to me at my offices. When I heard the door open in the outer office, I assumed it must be her, but I was wrong.
“Mrs V? I wasn’t expecting to see you today?”
“The funeral was first thing this morning, so I thought I might as well come in and do half a day. I hope you don’t mind my wearing black.”
“Not at all. Are you sure you feel up to being here?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’d rather be busy.”
“I’m expecting a visitor soon: A Mrs Joanne Carling. Then I have to go out to meet someone at three.”
“Okay. I’ll wait until your visitor arrives, and then make us all a nice cup of tea.”
***
“Thanks for coming in today, Mrs Carling.”
“No problem. After I spoke to you yesterday, I had a phone call from Mrs Sykes. She said you’d been to see her. You can’t possibly think that she had anything to do with the theft of my sister’s jewellery, do you?”
“Having spent some time with her yesterday, I’m certain she didn’t.”
“I guess that means that I’m your only suspect?”
“Did you take the jewellery?”
“Wow! You don’t beat about the bush, do you? No, I didn’t.”
“What kind of relationship do you have with Sir Arthur?”
“I can’t abide the man—never could. I don’t know what Geraldine saw in him in the first place. I tried to warn her off him, but back then, she was besotted. That didn’t last long, but by the time she realised what a mistake she’d made, it was too late.”
“D
id you see your sister often?”
“Not as often as I would have liked. It was usually when he’d gone away for a few days. And, occasionally, we met up in town, but that wasn’t often because Arthur kept her on a tight leash; he was incredibly jealous.”
“Did he have reason to be?”
“No. Geraldine may have regretted her choice of husband, but she would never have been unfaithful. She didn’t have it in her.”
“Can you take a look at these?” I took out the photos of the missing jewellery. “Do you recognise them?”
“Yes, I’ve seen Geraldine wearing those.”
“Did she have a lot of jewellery?”
“More than me, that’s for sure.”
“I understand your sister didn’t leave a Will?”
“It’s not something people like to talk about, is it? She did bring up the subject once when we were out for coffee, and I could have sworn she said she’d made hers. I told her not to be so morbid, and changed the subject. Maybe, I got it wrong. Perhaps she was just thinking about doing it. Do you mind if I make a suggestion?”
“Please do.”
“Have you considered this might be an attempt to defraud the insurance company? I wouldn’t put it past Arthur.”
“I suppose it’s possible, but if that’s true, I don’t understand why he’s hired me. It’s just asking for trouble. I will look into it, though.”
Just as I had with Mrs Sykes, I came away from my meeting with Joanne Carling convinced that she wasn’t the kind of person to have stolen the jewellery.
Two interesting issues had come out of the meeting, though: First, the possibility that Lady Geraldine might have left a Will, but if she had, where was it? And then there was the question of the insurance. Was it possible that Sir Arthur had hired me to give credence to the theft story, and in turn, to strengthen an insurance claim?
“I’m ready,” Winky said, as soon as Joanne Carling had left.
“Ready for what?”
“My photo.” He held up his helicopter.
“Err—maybe later. I have to go out—I have a meeting in five minutes.”
***
“Tweeting? The man behind the counter in Coffee Games was watching me type on my phone.
“Yeah. Just a quick update.”
Getting a coffee in Coffee Games – it’s snakes and ladders day.
“What can I get for you?”
“A caramel latte and a blueberry muffin, please.”
“Coming up. Would you like a snakes and ladders game?”
“I don’t have anyone to play with. I’m meeting someone, but they won’t be here for another twenty minutes.”
“I was just about to go on my break. I’ll give you a game until then if you like?”
“Okay. Why not?”
“Great. I’m Jed, by the way.”
“Jill.”
I found a vacant table next to the window, so I could keep a lookout for Rita Markham.
Jed was setting up the board. “You’re not one of those ultra-competitive types, are you?”
“Me?” I laughed. “Of course not. It’s just a bit of fun, isn’t it?”
Fifteen minutes later, and I was absolutely seething. I’d been within four squares of victory when I’d landed on a stupid snake. Now Jed was only two squares from the winning line. If he threw anything greater than a ‘one’, he would win.
“Thanks for the game.” He grinned. “You were unlucky.”
“You haven’t won yet.”
He threw the dice, which rolled across the table, and was about to land ‘six’ face-up when, as if by magic, it rolled one more time, and landed ‘one’ face-up.
“Did you see that? It stopped and then rolled again.”
“Unlucky.” I grabbed the dice. To win only a six would do. And what do you know, I rolled a six. “I win!” I punched the air.
“I can’t believe it.” Jed shook his head.
“Them’s the breaks.”
“I’d better get back to work. Thanks for the game. Shall I leave the board with you?”
“No, thanks. Hang on, though. Let me just take a quick photo.”
My first post to Instagram: Hashtag snakesandladderschamp.
Oh, the sweet smell of success.
What? Of course I didn’t cheat. How could you suggest such a thing?
“Jill?”
I’d been so excited over my (totally legitimate) victory at snakes and ladders that I hadn’t spotted Rita Markham’s arrival.
“Hi, have a seat. What would you like to drink?”
“Nothing, thanks.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’d just like to get this over with.”
“Okay. As you know, I’ve been hired by Annette’s parents to try and find out where she is.”
“What if she doesn’t want to be found?”
“If I manage to trace her, and she doesn’t want her parents to know where she is, then of course, I’ll respect her wishes. I’ll just tell them that she’s safe and well. That’s really all that matters to them. Be honest with me, Rita, do you know where she is?”
“No, I promise.”
“But you know why she left, don’t you?”
She shrugged.
“Can you at least tell me why she’d become so stressed in the weeks before she disappeared?”
“It’s that place!”
“Lakeview?”
“Yes. I used to love working there.”
“What changed?”
“Everything.”
“Sylvia mentioned that Lakeview had new owners. Is that when things changed?”
She nodded.
“Things can often be difficult when a new owner takes over any business.”
“Difficult?” Rita spoke so loudly that she drew looks from the adjoining tables. “I’m not talking about a few minor changes. The whole culture of the place changed, and it’s killing people.”
“What do you mean?”
“The number of deaths has tripled since they took over.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“What exactly are you saying? Do you suspect foul play?”
“Nothing I could prove. Every death has to be certified by an external doctor, and so far, none of them has raised the alarm.”
“Could the increase in deaths be no more than a coincidence?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“And you think that might have something to do with Annette’s disappearance?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Why didn’t she just quit? Why take off like this?”
“I don’t know.”
“And why are you so scared? Has someone threatened you?”
“Sorry.” She stood up. “I’ve told you everything I know. Please don’t contact me again.”
And with that, she was gone. Rita was clearly convinced that something sinister was happening at the care home, and she was obviously frightened. But of what exactly?
***
I grabbed a snack, and then it was off to Washbridge Park Hotel, to work undercover, to try and catch the pickpocket who had been stealing from guests in the bar.
Noah Way, the hotel manager, met me in reception.
“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like me to sit?” I said.
“Sorry?”
“In the bar? Which table has the best vantage point?”
“You must have misunderstood. I’d like you to work undercover as one of the staff.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I just pretended to be a customer?”
“The problem with that is there’s a limit to how much you’d be able to see regardless of where you sat. If you pretend to be a member of staff, you’ll be able to cover the whole room without attracting attention.”
“What did you have in mind? Shall I play the part of a manager?”
“No, I thought you could work as a glass collector.”
>
“Oh? Right.”
“Come with me, and I’ll set you up with a uniform.”
By uniform, he meant a white, beer-stained apron.
“You’ll be working with Jordan.” Noah introduced me to a young man who was dressed in an identical apron. “This is the lady I told you about, Jordan. I’ll leave you to it, Jill. Jordan will show you the ropes.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Are you really a private dick?” The young man said.
“I prefer investigator.”
“I’ve never met a real live private d—err—investigator before. What do you want me to do?”
“Just do your job as you would normally.”
“Okay, great. How should I let you know if I spot something suspicious? Do we need some kind of secret hand-signal?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. Just come and tell me.”
“Roger, will do.”
“So, Jordan, what is it I’m supposed to do, exactly?”
“It’s dead easy. Just walk around the room and pick up all the empty glasses, and keep a lookout for any drinks that have been abandoned. Be careful, though, don’t pick up a drink unless you’re sure the customer has left. Sometimes they’ve just nipped to the toilet; they won’t be very chuffed if you’ve taken their drink while they were gone.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“You have to give the tables a quick wipe. Oh, and if you find any peanuts, will you let me have them? I get hungry of an evening, and the peanuts keep me going.”
“Will do.”
The evening started quietly enough, but by nine-thirty, the bar was full. The customers were a mix of residents and non-residents.
“You’ll have to collect more than that,” Jordan said when I returned to the bar with a couple of glasses. He pointed to a tray on which were stacked at least twenty empty glasses.
“I’m worried I might drop them.”
“Nah, you’ll be fine.”
On my next sweep of the room, I stacked more glasses on the tray, but I still kept the number down to manageable levels—I didn’t want any accidents.
I was much slower than Jordan, but then I was also keeping one eye on the customers, to see if I could spot anyone acting suspiciously.
