by Morgana Best
I wanted to ask her if she had murdered the vet, but I couldn’t get a word in edgeways.
“He was a nasty man,” she pushed on. “He could have murdered my poor Puddles. Any fool could have diagnosed that poor Puddles had pancreatitis, but not that idiot vet. I’m a pensioner, and I can’t afford all those dreadful bills, but do you think he cared? No, he didn’t.”
She looked around the room before continuing. “You know, I thought about murdering my husband. He was a most unpleasant man. He smoked incessantly and made me quite sick. I asked him not to smoke in the house, but all he did was scream at me. I couldn’t outright murder him, but he had high cholesterol, so I served him lots of bacon and eggs for breakfast every morning. He thought I was being nice to him, but I was actually trying to kill him. And it worked, you know. Eventually he had a heart attack and died. That’s when I got my dogs. He didn’t like dogs, you see. At least no one can accuse me of being a crazy cat lady, because I don’t have cats. I only have dogs.”
She burst into a manic laugh. “Go on, help yourselves to the cake. I can’t see any mould on it. I did look to see if there was any mould on it. I was going to cut the mouldy pieces off so you wouldn’t see it. Of course, if there was mould on the ends it would go right through it, but I didn’t care. I don’t like people, you see. I’m an animal person. People can take their own chances as far as I’m concerned, but animals can’t look after themselves, the poor things. Help yourselves to some cake. Oh, I gave you all black tea. Would anyone like some milk? It’s well past its use-by date, but I think it’s harmless. I tipped a bit in the sink and it didn’t curdle or anything like that.”
We all assured her the black tea was fine. I hoped like crazy she didn’t have a graphic medical condition because I couldn’t bear hearing anything else. If only I had been more careful with my truth spell.
I opened my mouth to ask if she had killed the vet, but she pushed on in a loud voice. “I stole some dog treats from the supermarket once. No one saw me. It made me quite afraid, but if they caught me, I was going to say I’d put them in my handbag by mistake. I only did it once, mind you. I felt guilty for about a day, and then I got over it. I spend so much money at the local supermarket and pay their inflated prices, so I thought that would be fine.”
“Do you have any idea who killed Chase Evans?” Oleander said, but she had to talk over the top of Mabel to make herself heard.
Mabel tapped her chin with one stubby finger for some time before answering. “He had loose morals.”
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but he was a man about town, if you get my meaning.” She winked at me.
“Do you mean he was having affairs?” I asked her. “Was he married?”
She nodded. “Yes, he was married, and so was his main girlfriend, Georgia.”
I gasped. “Georgia Garrison? The vet nurse? Chase Evans was having an affair with her?”
Mabel nodded solemnly. “Yes, he sure was!”
“No wonder she was so upset,” I said to myself. To Mabel I said, “Do you think she would have had a reason to murder him?”
Mabel shrugged. “Do I look like a detective? How should I know? I just know he had loose morals, so if he was having an affair with one married woman, then he could have been having an affair with others. Maybe Georgia found out. Maybe he tried to break it off with her, so she had to do away with him.”
That was one revelation after another. I had no idea Georgia was married. “Was Chase Evans having an affair with the other vet nurse, too?” I asked her.
She laughed, showing a full set of long yellow teeth. “No, he wasn’t gay. The other vet nurse is a man. Adrian Young. He’s married, too.”
I had forgotten that the other vet nurse was a man.
“Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to kill him?” Athanasius asked her.
“I refuse to talk anymore until you all eat some cake,” she said.
I had no desire to have my stomach pumped, so I took a piece of cake from her and when she wasn’t looking, thrust it in my pocket. I noticed Athanasius and Oleander were doing the same.
Mabel did not appear to notice, because she pushed on. “I assume the murderer was a woman he was having an affair with, or her husband, or a person he’d ripped off in the vet clinic, or maybe one of his running buddies.”
“He ran?” I asked her.
She nodded. “He was training for the upcoming East Bucklebury races. You know, the one all the Norwegians are in town for.”
I was going to tell her they were Dutch, but Oleander put a warning hand on my knee.
“Maybe he upset someone in the running club,” Mabel said, “or maybe he upset the Norwegians. Maybe his best friend did away with him.”
“Thanks, you’ve been ever so helpful,” Oleander said as she stood.
“You haven’t drunk your tea,” Mabel protested. “You can’t go until you drink your tea. I’ll just go out and fetch the bowl of sugar.”
I looked around for a potted plant so I could empty the tea into it, but Oleander hissed at me, “Pour it onto the floor.”
I stared at her in amazement. “Are you crazy? I can’t tip tea onto her carpet!”
Oleander pointed to the carpet. For the first time, I realised it was dreadfully stained. I shuddered at the sight. It dawned on me why the dog was called ‘Puddles.’
“She won’t notice it, trust me,” Oleander said, tipping her tea onto the carpet. Athanasius did likewise, so I followed suit. I had to admit, the tea didn’t make a difference to the colour of the carpet. Those Maltese Terriers were obviously never let out for bathroom privileges. My stomach churned.
“Oh, you have finished your tea,” Mabel said with clear disappointment. “I thought you might like some sugar.”
“None of us take sugar, but thank you for your hospitality,” Oleander said.
“I’ll just give you a walnut cake to take home. I’ve got a spare one in my freezer.” Mabel vanished and soon returned with something that looked like it contained chemical weapons of mass destruction. I’m sure the CIA would have liked to have seized it, because it seemed to be overflowing with toxins. Oleander took it gingerly. Luckily, it was tightly wrapped in plastic.
We all thanked Mabel and beat a hasty retreat.
Chapter 7
Oleander had talked me into going home to collect Persnickle to take him to the vet clinic. She was sure I would be able to speak with the ghost of the deceased vet. We took a detour first to throw the walnut cake into the nearest public rubbish bin.
Although I wanted to clear my name, I wasn’t too keen to speak with the vet’s ghost, because I was worried the detectives would catch me on the premises and think I was up to no good.
As we drove up the road to the vet clinic, my fears appeared to be ungrounded. There were no cars in sight. “What will I tell the detectives if they turn up?” I asked Oleander.
She pursed her lips and then said, “We’ll think of something on the spur of the moment.”
I groaned. I’d never been a Girl Guide, but I always liked to be prepared. Oleander gave me a little push. “Go on, take Persnickle out for a walk and see if the ghost appears to you.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “No, I found from experience that newly deceased ghosts are often shy.”
I frowned at that. I had no idea she had experience with speaking to ghosts, but I wasn’t about to question her now.
“Come on,” I encouraged Persnickle, and he followed me around to the back of the building. I came to a stop outside the window where I had found the body. “Hello, is anyone there?” I said, feeling somewhat foolish. Nothing happened, not so much as a shimmer.
“Is anyone there?” I called again, more loudly this time.
Oleander appeared around the corner. “Don’t draw attention to yourself, Goldie,” she said. “I’m sure ghosts aren’t deaf
.”
I shrugged. “He hasn’t shown up yet.”
She waved one hand at me. “I’ll go away again, and you wait here for a few more minutes. He might still be coming to terms with being a ghost.”
“Okay.” I checked the time on my phone. I would give it five minutes, and then I would leave.
A minute or so later, the ghost appeared. He looked around him and then stared at me. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”
I nodded. “Yes, sorry about that.”
“Aren’t I supposed to see a white light or something?”
I shrugged. “I’m not an expert, but I think so. Maybe you have to find out who murdered you first. You didn’t commit suicide or anything, did you?”
The ghost appeared shocked. “No way! Is that what they said happened?”
I shook my head. “The police did say that at first, but now they’re investigating it as a homicide. Did you see who did it?”
The ghost shimmered before once more taking full form. “It was all such a shock. I can’t believe someone murdered me. It’s too hard to believe. I feel like I’m in a bad dream and I’m going to wake up.”
“Do you know who did it?” I pressed him.
“No. They shot me from behind,” he said.
I was disappointed. “You don’t have a clue?”
He rubbed his eyes with both hands. “No.”
“Well, I’m trying to solve your murder,” I said. “Can you tell me everything you remember?”
He bit his lip. “I was in my office, and got up to stretch my legs. I looked out the window because I heard some runners going past, and that was the last thing I remember.”
“You didn’t hear anyone else?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Did you…” I began, but he vanished. I waited for a few more moments, but he didn’t show. I called out again, more quietly than last time, but he didn’t reappear.
I gave up and made my way back to Oleander and Athanasius, and relayed what had happened. “I wanted to ask him more questions,” I concluded.
Oleander patted my shoulder. “You’ll have to bring Persnickle back to speak with him again. The vet might remember more after some time. Right now, he’s no doubt settling into accepting the fact that he’s dead.”
“At least he confirmed that he didn’t commit suicide,” I said.
Athanasius nodded. “There is that. See, it wasn’t a complete waste of time.”
I pulled a face. “Only he didn’t have a clue who did it. I also wanted to ask him for a list of suspects, because he would obviously know who had something against him. Do you think I should wait around a bit longer?”
Oleander shook her head. “No, I doubt he’ll appear again today. I wonder if the runners heard anything?”
“If they did, they would have reported it to the police,” Athanasius pointed out.
I bit my lip. “You know, it was altogether too convenient that Georgia Garrison wasn’t in the office when he was murdered.”
“Maybe the murderer was just hanging around awaiting his or her opportunity,” Oleander said. “Or maybe she did it.”
“Perhaps she wanted him to leave his wife for her and he refused, so in a fit of jealousy, she grabbed a gun and shot him,” I said. “How can we find out what sort of gun it was?”
“We can’t,” Oleander said. “And there are a lot of farmers around here, and all of them have rifles.”
I clapped my hands. “That’s it! Won’t they do a ballistics report or something? Then they can go to all the suspects and check their guns against the ballistics report.”
“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple, Goldie,” Athanasius said. “I’m sure the murderer has already thought of that. The murderer wouldn’t have used his or her own gun, rest assured.”
My face fell. “We’ve made no inroads into this investigation at all.”
“A lemon tart?” Athanasius said, pulling one from his backpack. “They make everything seem all right. Don’t be disheartened—we’ve only just started this investigation. We know that Chase Evans was having an affair with the vet nurse, and so perhaps his wife did it. As for as the suspects, we have Georgia Garrison, her husband, and the other vet nurse, Adrian Young. That is, I don’t know if Georgia is married, so perhaps she doesn’t have a husband and Mabel was wrong. Nevertheless, it is no cause for alarm, because even without a possible husband there, we still have four suspects.”
“I was hoping Mabel would confess if she did it,” I said, “but she simply went on and on confessing other things.”
“Maybe she did do it; maybe she didn’t,” Athanasius said. “What she told us doesn’t present evidence either way, I’m sorry to say. The only one who can help us is Georgia Garrison. I think we need to speak with her next.”
I nodded. “That’s a good idea, but what are we going to say to her? We can’t just go up to her and fire questions at her.”
Oleander waved her finger at me. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. I know you’re worried the police suspect you, but she’d have to be an equal suspect in their eyes.” She tapped her chin. “If not equal, then a close second. You can approach her and say that you’re trying to solve the case because the police suspect you. I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”
“I do hope you’re right,” I said.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Athanasius said. “She might be rude to you and ask you to leave. It won’t be the end of the world.”
I smiled. “True. Okay then, I’ll question Georgia. And at some point, we need to speak to the victim’s wife.”
“Yes, but…” Oleander began, but her face froze in horror.
I turned around and followed her gaze, only to see a police vehicle approach. “Oh no,” I groaned.
Detective Power and Detective Walters jumped out of the car. “What are you doing here, Ms Bloom?” Power demanded.
“My wombat is scared of vets,” I said, “and I’m trying to do immersion therapy.”
“What’s that?” Walters asked me.
“You know, it’s like if a woman is afraid of heights, you take her up to the top of a tall building and make her look over,” I said.
Detective Power flinched, and I suspected he had a fear of heights. “What’s that got to do with your wombat?” he barked.
“Persnickle was quite distraught about visiting the vet clinic yesterday,” I told him. “Athanasius, Oleander, and I decided we should bring him here when no one was in attendance at the vet surgery to get him used to the building and to see that nothing scary was going to happen to him, and feed him carrot treats.” I pulled a piece of carrot from my pocket as I spoke, and handed it to Persnickle.
Power narrowed his eyes. I could see he didn’t believe me, but he seemed to be at a loss as to how to respond. “All right then, on your way, and no more interfering with police business.”
I was about to ask how we were possibly interfering with police business, but Oleander put a firm hand on the small of my back and ushered me forward.
I was about to say something uncomplimentary about the detective as I was driving away, when I heard a message on my phone. I pressed the play button on my car Bluetooth, and the disembodied voice read out the text.
Funeral on tomorrow.
The screen said the text was from Max. That was all he had to say?
Chapter 8
I had heard the East Bucklebury health resort was a gated estate, and I knew I should have called ahead, so I was relieved that the tall wooden gates were wide open. Maybe the runners from the Netherlands were out on another training run. I was there with a big box of chocolates and a bunch of cash to give to the runner whose shoe Persnickle had devoured.
I drove through the gates slowly. For some reason, the idea of a health resort filled me with fear. I was afraid they could somehow sense how much wine and coffee I usually imbibed, not to mention my general diet.
The place was beautiful, I had to admit. Lush law
ns gave way to a magnificent wooden building behind a large glistening pool. People were lounging around the pool, while others were doing yoga on one of the lawns. Beautiful Australian native birds, resplendent in vivid shades of red and green, adorned the small shrubs dotted over the lawns.
I made my way back to my car and headed for a sign pointing to reception.
A slim yet well-muscled woman looked up when she saw me. She smiled, flashing a row of stunningly white teeth. I was glad I was wearing my sunglasses. “Hello,” I began, but she interrupted me.
“Welcome to the East Bucklebury Spa Resort and Colonics Centre,” she said. “Are you here to book for the fasting days?”
I clutched my throat. “Fasting?” I squeaked. “No. No, I’m not. I’m here…”
Once more, she interrupted me. “I can see you’re not here for our weight loss retreat, but you clearly need a course of colonics.”
I backed away from the desk. “Why would you say that?” I asked, affronted.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, it’s your hair,” she said. “We do hair testing here, and by the look of your hair, it’s clear you have toxins in your system such as lead and mercury, possibly arsenic.”
I was tempted to tell her it was a wig, but then I would have to explain why I was wearing one, so I simply said, “I’m not here to book at all. My wombat ate a running shoe belonging to one of the running group from the Netherlands, and I wanted to come here and pay him.”
The woman’s jaw dropped open. Clearly, she was having trouble processing my simple remark.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand anything you said,” she admitted.
“I have a pet wombat,” I told her. “He hates the colour orange. When the Dutch people were running past my house, my wombat saw they were all wearing orange so he chased them. He managed to catch the slowest runner. He knocked him over, and then proceeded to eat one of his shoes. Does that make sense?”
