by Adele Abbott
“Nothing. When we all went our separate ways, everything seemed perfectly normal. That’s what makes it so weird.”
After Karen had answered all of my questions, she was able to give me contact details for the other two women who had been with Angie on the night she’d disappeared. Unless one of them could provide me with more information than Karen Jones had been able to, this case was going nowhere. My only other hope was Conrad Landers, but I still hadn’t heard back from him, and there was a good chance I never would.
***
Back at the office, Jules seemed to be much brighter.
“Sorry I was a bit of a grouch earlier, Jill. I shouldn’t let Gilbert get to me like that.”
“Don’t worry about it. Men? Can’t live with them; can’t shoot them.”
“I forgot to mention that Lules asked me to thank you for letting her work here, and for putting her in touch with Megan.”
“Has she spoken to Megan yet?”
“Yeah. Lules was on the phone to her for ages last night, and I think she’s going to meet up with her. Lules said she was really helpful.”
“That’s great. Megan has definitely been there, done that, and got the T-shirt.”
Once I was in my office, I gave Aunt Lucy a call.
“It’s me. I was just wondering if you happen to have a phone number for the Candlefield Special Delivery service? There’s something I need to send to CASS.”
“I think so. Can you hold on while I try to find it?”
“Sure.”
Winky was lying on the sofa, with his head on his paws. I’d assumed he was asleep, but I could see now he was wide awake, and looking very sorry for himself.
“What’s up with you, misery chops? Don’t tell me the app business is failing.”
“Of course it isn’t. It’s going from strength to strength.”
“So why the long face?”
“It’s the dinner with Peggy, Carrie and Tom, tonight.”
“I take it you’re not looking forward to it?”
“If it was just me and Peggy, it would be fine. I just can’t bear the thought of having to listen to Tom, bragging and putting me down all evening.”
“You usually give as good as you get.”
“I know, but if I turn on him, it will upset Peggy, so I’m going to have to suck it up. It just doesn’t sit well with me.”
“I can imagine. Where are you having the meal?”
“In here, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“I’ve ordered in catering.”
“I hope you haven’t charged that to my—”
“Jill?” Aunt Lucy was back on the line. “Sorry to keep you waiting like that. I knew I had it somewhere. Do you have a pen?”
I scribbled down the phone number.
“Thanks, Aunt Lucy.”
“No problem. Oh, and by the way, it seems like I was worrying over nothing about my new neighbour. I met him yesterday; his name is Glen, he’s a wizard, and he seems really nice.”
“That’s good news. I told you there was nothing to worry about. Will he be living there by himself?”
“No. I haven’t met his partner yet, but if she’s anything like Glen, I’m sure she’ll be very nice too.”
“That’s great. Bye then.”
I called Candlefield Special Delivery, and they promised to have someone around within the hour. That gave me time to draft a quick letter to Desdemona Nightowl. I wanted her permission to visit CASS again so that I could try to find out more about the pendant, the portrait and the initials ‘JB’.
I’d promised Harry and Larry that I would investigate the fire at their bakery, in which they had lost their lives. They were convinced it had been arson, and that the man responsible was a certain Stewey Dewey who had run a rival bakery.
A simple internet search led me to numerous articles from local papers, in particular The Bugle. The fire had happened in the early hours of a Monday morning in February. At the time, the only people inside the building had been Harry and Larry. The fire had taken hold quickly, trapping them inside. By the time the fire crew managed to fight their way into the building, both men were already dead. A man had been taken in for questioning, but had been released without charge. That man was Stewey Dewey who ran a rival bakery only a few streets away. The same man that both Harry and Larry were convinced was responsible for their deaths. Subsequent articles, published some weeks later, stated that the cause of the fire had not been established, but there was no evidence that foul play had been involved.
A visit to Dewey’s Bakery was called for.
“Jill.” Jules’ voice came through the intercom. “I have a man here to see you. He says his name is Puddle.”
“Send him in, would you?”
I’d met Laurence Waters, AKA Puddle, when he delivered packages to me from CASS.
“That was remarkably quick, Puddle.”
“CSD aims to please. I understand you have a package to be delivered to CASS?”
“Just a letter, actually. How much will it cost?”
“There’s no charge to you.” He smiled. “I thought you knew. The service is free to all members of the Combined Sup Council.”
“I didn’t realise. When is it likely to be delivered?”
“If it was anywhere else in Candlefield, I would say within the hour, but it will be at least two hours to CASS. Is that okay?”
“Yes, that’s more than quick enough. Thank you very much.”
“My pleasure.”
In the letter, I’d explained my reasons for wanting to visit CASS. All I could do now was hope that Desdemona Nightowl would give me her permission.
***
H&L Bakery had stood on Washbridge Way. What was left of the building had long since been demolished, and in its place, there was now a large beauty salon called You Little Beauty. From the articles I’d read, I knew that Dewey’s Bakery was just two streets away on Treesmore Road.
Dewey’s Bakery had a shopfront from which they sold their range of baked goods. Just looking at the window display was enough to make my mouth water. Their cakes looked to die for, but I was there on business, and I would not allow myself to be distracted.
“Yes, madam?” The man behind the counter was wearing a straw boater, for reasons known only to him.
“Can I get one of those strawberry cupcakes, please?”
What can I tell you? I’m weak, so shoot me.
“That will be two pounds, please.”
“Thanks. Is Mr Dewey in today?”
“Stewey?”
“Yeah. I wondered if I could have a quick word.”
“You’ve come to the wrong place.”
“Oh? Does he have more than one premises?”
“He’s not in the bakery business any longer. He hasn’t been for a long time.”
“The sign still says Dewey’s Bakery.”
“The bakery and shop belong to me and my brother. I’m Charlie Grott. When we bought the place, we figured that the Dewey name had a value; it had built up a lot of goodwill. We’d have been crazy to ditch it, and besides, who would want to buy cakes from Grott Bakery?”
“Good point. When did you take over?”
“A few years ago. I assume you heard about the fire at the other bakery?”
“H&L? Yes.”
“It was not long after that, that Stewey sold up.”
“Do you happen to know where I could find him?”
“Last I heard, he was living out in Smallwash. Do you know it?”
“I should do. I live there. You don’t happen to have his address, do you?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Never mind. I’ll find it. Thanks again for your help.” I took a bite of the cupcake. “Mmm. Very nice.”
Chapter 12
I was in two minds whether to go back to the office, or to call it a day, but then I got a call from Jules.
“Jill. Sorry to call you on your mobile, but I’ve had a lady on
the phone. She sounds really desperate. She asked if you’d call her straightaway.”
“Who was it? Did she say what it was about?”
“She was in such a state, I could barely make out what she was saying. Something about an owl, but I honestly don’t know what she was going on about. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Did you manage to get her number?”
“Yes, but only because it was showing on Caller ID.”
I made a note of the number, and told Jules I’d take care of it. Could it have been Desdemona Nightowl? It seemed unlikely because it was a Washbridge number, and Ms Nightowl didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would get so worked up; she always seemed so cool, calm and collected.
“Hello!” The woman shouted so loudly that I had to move the phone a few inches from my ear.
“This is Jill Gooder. I have a message that you wanted me to call you.”
“Yes. Thank you. Oh goodness. It’s terrible. Please, can you help me?”
“I need you to take a deep breath, and slow down a little.”
“Sorry. It’s Alfie. You have to help me.”
“I’ll do my best, but can we start with your name?”
“Sorry. I’m not thinking straight. My name is Brand, Ella Brand. I got your name from Myrtle Turtle. I believe you work with her?”
“I did, but only the once.”
“I’ve known Myrtle for years. She was the first person I thought of, but she’s just had a hip operation, and is confined to bed. Myrtle said that you might be able to help.”
“I’m snowed under with work at the moment.”
“Please Ms Gooder. You’re my last hope. You’re Alfie’s last hope.”
“Who is Alfie?”
“He’s a barn owl.”
“You have an owl?”
“I have lots of them. Other birds too. I run the Washbridge Bird Sanctuary. I’ve had Alfie for several years. Someone left him on my doorstep with a note that just said his name was Alfie, and asked if I’d look after him. When I went to check on him this morning, he’d gone. Disappeared.”
“Has he been stolen?”
“I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible, but there was no sign of a break-in. Can you help, Ms Gooder? I’m worried about what might happen to Alfie if he’s out there all alone.”
“Like I said, I am very busy.”
“Please, Ms Gooder. I’m begging you.”
“Okay. I’ll come and take a look, but I’m not making any promises.”
“Thank you so much. Myrtle said you were an angel.”
I should have been heading home for dinner, but instead I was off on some wild owl chase. I sent Jack a text: Last minute case cropped up. Won’t be in for dinner.
Moments later, my phone beeped with his reply: Okay. Take care. See you later. BTW, I’ve managed to get hold of a sack and am going to practise.
I’d driven past the entrance to the bird sanctuary twice, before I realised that it was located down a narrow dirt track, off the main road between Washbridge and West Chipping. As I pulled onto the gravel car park, an elderly woman wearing a blue overall and wellingtons, came hurrying over.
“Is it Jill?”
“That’s me. You must be Mrs Brand.”
“Ella, please. It’s what everyone calls me. Did you find us okay?”
“I drove past a couple of times.”
“Most people do. The sign blew down three months ago, and we don’t have the funds to have it replaced.”
To my left was a small cottage, and to my right was the building that quite obviously housed the birds. That much was apparent from the sounds coming from within.
“Is that your cottage?”
“Yes. I’ve lived here for almost forty years. I started the sanctuary about twenty years ago. I didn’t intend to. It started with one kestrel, and it grew into this monster.”
“Would you like to show me where Alfie is usually housed?”
“Of course. Follow me.”
“Is the sanctuary open to the public?”
“No, dear. We tried that, but it was too upsetting for the birds.”
“How do you manage to fund the place?”
“It’s a struggle. We do occasionally take some of the more resilient birds out to the parks in and around Washbridge. That raises some money. Plus, we have our regular donors.”
Inside the building, there were dozens of cages housing all manner of birds, some of which I could identify, others I’d never seen before. At the other end of the building was an open door, and beyond that a courtyard, which had not been visible from the car park. There were even more cages and birds out there.
“This is where Alfie lives.” Ella pointed to a large empty cage.
“Was the door open when you discovered he’d gone?”
“No. It was closed.”
“So whoever took him must have stopped to close the cage door before making their escape? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“I suppose so. I hadn’t really considered it.”
“Was Alfie the only bird taken?”
“Yes, thank goodness.”
“Is he particularly rare or valuable?”
“Alfie?” She laughed a hollow laugh. “He’s a senior citizen. I love him to bits, but he has no real value to anyone else. Do you think you’ll be able to find him, Ms Gooder?”
“I have to be honest. Right now, it isn’t looking very promising.”
Her face fell, and she looked close to tears.
“Why don’t you let me take a look around to see if I spot anything that might help.”
“Alright, dear. I’ll go and have a cup of camomile tea to soothe my nerves. Can I get you a drink?”
“No. I’m okay, thanks.”
I honestly didn’t know where to start. I should have told Ella Brand that it was a hopeless case, and that I couldn’t help, but I wasn’t sure she was up to hearing that just yet. Hopefully, the camomile tea would calm her down a little, and I’d be able to break the bad news later.
“Hey! Witchy!”
The voice made me jump. “Who said that?”
“Over here. Two cages down.”
I walked cautiously towards the voice.
“Hello?”
“Over here.”
“Was that you?” I said to the small owl.
“Who did you think it was? Turn around, would you?”
“Sorry?”
“Turn to face the other way.”
I did as he said.
“Okay. You can turn back again now.”
Instead of an owl, there was now a man crouched inside the large cage. He was naked except for a sack he had tied around his waist.
“You’re a shifter!”
“No flies on you, are there? I can see why the old biddy called you in. I’m Eric, by the way.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance, Eric. Do you know what happened to Alfie, the barn owl?”
“He’s a shifter too.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a cushy number we’ve got here. The old biddy takes really good care of us, and we can sneak out into the city occasionally.”
“Is that where he is?”
“No. He went back to Candlefield to visit his sister. He goes there once a month, but he’s always back before morning.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“No idea. He’s never done this before. I’m a bit worried, to tell you the truth.”
“Do you have his address in Candlefield?”
“Yeah. He stays at his sister’s house when he’s over there.”
“If you let me have it, I’ll go over there tomorrow to see if they have any news on him.”
Ella Brand returned a few minutes later.
“What do you think, young lady? Have I lost him for good?”
“I don’t know, Ella. Why don’t you leave it with me for a day or so, and I’ll see what I can find out?”
“Okay, Jill. If Myrtle says
you’re the real deal, that’s good enough for me. I know you’ll do your best to bring my Alfie home.”
***
I had to drive back through Washbridge on my way home, so I called in at the office in case Jules had left me any messages.
As soon as I walked in, I could hear noises coming from my office. I was just about to charge in there when I remembered that Winky and Peggy were entertaining their two friends.
There were no messages on Jules’ desk, so I could have turned around and left, but I didn’t. Instead, I climbed onto a chair so I could see down into my office.
What? Don’t give me that. You would have done the same thing.
The four of them were seated at the table. Winky looked very smart in his little suit, but Tom had gone the whole hog, and was wearing an evening suit, which must have cost an arm and a leg. It didn’t take long for me to understand why Winky disliked Tom so much. That cat was a real piece of work.
“I got a first in history. What about you, Winky old man? What’s your degree?”
“Rowing is my game. Got a blue, don’t you know. What about you, Winky?”
“I really must give you the name of my caterers, Winky. They would put this lot to shame.”
And on and on it went.
Although I would never admit it to him, Winky had one of the sharpest minds of anyone I knew: human or animal. He could have run rings around that stuck-up little prat, but he didn’t. Instead, he took one blow after another until I could bear to listen no longer. If I’d stayed, I would have charged in there, all guns blazing, and told Tom exactly what I thought of him.
***
I knew that Jack would already have had his dinner by the time I got in, so I called at The Corner Shop on my way home. I couldn’t face the prospect of cooking dinner for myself, so I intended to get a ready meal.
There was no sign of Jack Corner, but Missy Muffet was behind the counter, standing on a box as usual. She was tucking into something which smelled quite revolting.
“Sorry about this,” she said. “Mr Corner asked me to work late, so I’m having to grab a snack on the go.”
