by Adele Abbott
“You have to admit that the interior was pretty spectacular.”
“If I’d wanted to sit on railway carriage seats, I would have booked a train journey. And it took forever to get served.”
“That’s only because we hadn’t set the signal to green.”
“Silly me. I should have realised that if I wanted to get the waiter’s attention, I needed to play around with the stupid signal box on the side of the table.”
“He wasn’t a waiter. He was a steward.”
“I don’t care what he called himself. All I know is that it took over an hour to get our meals. And what was with all that awful background noise?”
“They were authentic railway sounds.”
“It gave me a thumping headache. And what about those prices? How do they have the gall to charge that kind of money?”
“You’re paying for the railway experience, Jill.”
“I didn’t want a railway experience! I wanted some Indian food.”
“Well, I enjoyed it. By the way, you never got around to telling me what happened when you spoke to the teacher last night.”
“I’d intended having a right go at her, but I ended up feeling sorry for her. She’s only recently moved to the human world, and she doesn’t have any idea what she’s doing. I think she was just trying to impress the headmistress. The play only ran for the one night, and I didn’t spot any other sups in the audience, so hopefully she’ll get away with it.”
Jack had gone through to the lounge. I was still in the kitchen, tucking into my cheese on toast.
“Jill! Come and look at this.”
“If it’s Mr Hosey’s train, I’m not interested.”
“It isn’t. Come quick!”
“What’s up?”
“Look at Naomi over there.” He pointed across the road.
Naomi Normal was standing in the middle of her front lawn, waving her hands around in huge circles.
“What’s she doing?” I moved closer to get a better look.
“It looks a bit like an impression of a windmill. Do you think I should go and check that she’s okay?”
“Hold on. Norm’s out there too now.”
Norm Normal stood next to his wife, and he too began to wave his arms around in a similar fashion.
“What are they doing?” Jack said.
“Maybe it’s some kind of new-fangled exercise regime.”
“I’m going over there.”
“Don’t get involved, Jack.”
It was too late; he was already headed out of the door.
As he walked across the road, the Normals stopped waving their arms around. After speaking to them for a few minutes, Jack turned around and came back to the house. Eager to discover what was going on, I met him at the door.
“Well?”
“It’s just like you said. It’s their early morning warm-up.”
“Did they have anything else to say?”
“No, not really. They seemed keen to get back to their workout.”
***
There were a couple of bits and bobs that I needed to buy, so I called at The Corner Shop. Once I’d grabbed everything I wanted, I headed to the counter, and was rather surprised to find that a glass screen had been installed.
Little Jack, standing on his stilts, was behind the counter, and he was obviously saying something, but I couldn’t hear a word through the glass.
“I can’t hear you!” I shook my head.
He tried again, but I still couldn’t hear a thing.
Eventually, he gave up and walked to one side of the counter. Moments later, he appeared through the door to my right.
“What’s with the glass screen, Jack?”
“After the attempted robbery, I thought I’d better beef up my security.”
“I can understand why you’d do that, but I do see a couple of minor problems.”
“Don’t worry. The man is coming back to install an intercom, so we’ll be able to speak to one another.”
“That will certainly address one of the issues, but not the main one.”
“Oh?”
“How are you going to scan the goods? Or take the payment?”
He looked at the glass screen. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Oh boy.
***
If you looked up the word ‘forlorn’ in the dictionary, you’d probably find a photograph of Mr Roy Stead. If I had to sum the man up in one word, it would be grey. His hair was grey, his complexion was grey; in fact, everything about him was grey. The man looked exhausted, as though the sheer effort of breathing was almost too much for him to bear. Like Julie Moore, Roy Stead’s house reflected his wealth, but whereas Julie’s property had been traditional, Roy’s was very modern. It was filled with all manner of state-of-the-art gizmos and gadgets. The huge lounge in which we were seated was so white that I felt I should be wearing snow goggles.
“Thank you for sparing the time to see me, Mr Stead.”
“That’s okay. If it helps someone else who is going through the same thing, then I’m glad to help.”
“How was your wife on the day she died?”
“Val was happy—really happy. In fact, we’d been looking at houses just a couple of hours before. We’ve lived here for almost twenty years now, and both of us thought it was time for a change.”
“Were you with her when it happened?”
“Yes. We were walking by the river, enjoying a lovely day together. The weather was gorgeous: blue sky and plenty of sunshine. We were discussing where to go for lunch when she took a phone call, and the next thing I knew, she walked over to the river and threw herself in.”
“Could she have slipped?”
“No, it was quite deliberate. There had been a storm the previous day; the river was swollen and running extremely fast. I tried to grab her, but it was impossible. She’d disappeared below the surface before I had a chance to do anything.”
“Did they recover your wife’s body?”
“Yes, but not for a couple of days. She’d been washed a few miles downstream.”
“Do you by any chance still have her phone?”
“It was never recovered. She was still holding it when she jumped into the river.”
“Do you know who it was who called her?”
“No, the only word she spoke was hello.”
“Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about your wife’s Will?”
“Of course not. What do you want to know?”
“Who were the beneficiaries apart from yourself?”
“We have two sons. Val left both of them some money, but the bulk of it came to me.”
“Anyone else?”
“No. Except for the money she bequeathed to charity, of course.”
“Any particular one?”
“There were several. Both Val and I regularly give money to good causes and we’d both included donations in our individual Wills.”
“Do you happen to know offhand the names of the charities who your wife left money to?”
“I can remember some, but I’d have to check the Will to give you all of them. I don’t have a copy here, so I’d need to check with the solicitor.”
“Could you let me have a list of them?”
“Yes, of course. Can I ask why you want to know?”
“It may be nothing, but as I mentioned on the phone, I’m actually working on a case at the moment that involves an unusual and unexpected suicide.”
“Val’s death wasn’t suicide. I realise that must sound like a strange thing for me to say because I was right there when she jumped in the river, but I still don’t believe she intended to take her own life. She was so happy. We were so happy. And as I said earlier, we were in the process of looking for a new house. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
***
So far, I’d made very little progress on the singing telegram case. When I’d stood in as a gram, the gig had been relatively straightforward and there ha
d been no negative feedback.
But now someone had booked two grams to perform at the same gig, which according to Seb Price was very unusual. He’d suggested that I should accompany them, to see if I spotted anything out of the ordinary.
Stuart Swayne, the werewolf who had scared Mrs V to death, collected me in his car. With him, was a female vampire called Lucy.
“Hey, guys.” I climbed into the back seat. “Where are we headed?”
“It’s on the road to West Chipping.” Stuart pulled out into traffic. “It should take us about fifteen minutes, I think.”
Lucy turned to me. “I hear you did a gig the other day. Are you thinking of joining us full time?”
“No chance. Once was more than enough. Seb said it’s quite unusual for two of you to take part in the same gig.”
“It is.” Lucy nodded. “It’s certainly the first time I’ve done it.”
“It’s a first for me too,” Stuart said.
We’d just left Washbridge when I noticed that Stuart kept glancing in the rear-view mirror.
“Is there something wrong?” I asked.
“It might just be my imagination, but that black car has been behind us for the last few miles.”
I glanced around. “Do you think they’re following us?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll soon find out. Hold on tight. I’m going to take the next left. It’s a narrow country lane. Hardly anyone uses this, so if they turn down there too, we’ll know they’re tailing us.”
The black car didn’t follow us, instead it carried on along the main road.
“Apparently, I’m paranoid.” Stuart laughed.
After he’d managed to find somewhere to turn around, we started to head back to the main road when the black car suddenly appeared in front of us, blocking our way. Before Stuart had a chance to react, four men jumped out, and came rushing towards us. As they did, I made myself invisible.
Moments later, the front doors flew open, and the men, who by now I could see were wizards, cast a variation of the ‘sleep’ spell on Stuart and Lucy. Between them, the men managed to move Stuart and Lucy into the back with me. Then, two of the men returned to their car and reversed back up the lane. The other two men got into our car and followed their associates.
We drove for about fifteen minutes before pulling into an industrial estate where we parked behind a small unit, which had no sign on the front. The men picked up their sleeping captives, carried them inside, and placed them on two grotty looking couches. Two of the wizards then used the ‘doppelganger’ spell to make themselves look like Stuart and Lucy.
As they headed towards the door, another man appeared and shouted, “Hold on! I want to check both of you before you go.” He walked over to the fake Stuart and fake Lucy and did a quick inspection. Only when he was satisfied, did he allow them to leave.
A few seconds later, I heard the car drive away. I didn’t go with them because I was more interested in the man who had inspected the two doppelgangers. It was a man I recognised; a man with grey hair in a ponytail.
It was Eddie Dunston, the owner of Candlegrams, Seb’s main competitor in Candlefield.
It was almost two hours later when I heard a car pull up outside the unit. The two wizards, who had taken on the appearance of Stuart and Lucy, came into the building and reversed the ‘doppelganger’ spell, in order to revert to their own identities.
What happened next was clearly a well-orchestrated plan. First, the men carried their sleeping captives back to Stuart’s car, where they placed Lucy in the passenger seat and Stuart in the back seat. Before they closed the doors, I managed to climb into the back next to Stuart. Then, one of the men got into the driver’s seat and drove the car back onto the main road and parked in a lay-by. After moving Stuart to the driver’s seat, the man cast another spell on both of them; it wasn’t a spell I recognised. Finally, he reversed the ‘sleep’ spell, and then he did a runner.
It took a few seconds for Stuart and Lucy to come around, but when they did, it was as if nothing had happened. Stuart started the car and began to drive towards Washbridge.
“That all went very well,” Lucy said.
“Definitely. That’s one of the best gigs I’ve ever done,” Stuart agreed.
This brief exchange left me somewhat dumbfounded.
“Are you two saying the gig went well?” I asked.
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “There definitely won’t be any complaints about this one.”
Chapter 20
Stuart said he’d drop me off at my office, but I declined the offer because I wanted to go back with them to Paragrams so that I could speak to Seb. It was quite obvious that neither Stuart nor Lucy had any idea what had just happened, and I didn’t want to freak them out by telling them while we were still in the car. I figured it would be better to do that once we were back at Paragrams.
Seb had obviously been watching for our return, and quickly ushered us into his office. He was no doubt eager to find out if there had been any problems.
“How did it go?” he asked before we’d even had chance to take a seat.
“Really well.” Stuart gushed. “It was definitely one of our best performances, wasn’t it, Lucy?”
“Yeah, it went brilliantly, Seb. I think we should consider doing more joint gigs like this one. Everyone there seemed to really enjoy it.”
Seb, clearly relieved by what he’d heard, turned to me. “Care to add anything, Jill?”
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s not what happened.”
Stuart and Lucy were clearly shocked by my words.
“What do you mean, Jill?” Stuart said.
“Do you remember, when we were driving to the gig, there was a black car following us?”
“Of course. I drove down that country lane to check if they were tailing us, but they weren’t. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Do you remember anything after we’d been down the country lane?”
“Of course. We carried on to the gig, did the show, and then came back here.”
“What exactly are you getting at, Jill?” Seb said.
I spent the next ten minutes talking them through what had actually happened: That Stuart and Lucy hadn’t taken part in the gig at all. That they’d both been put under the ‘sleep’ spell by two wizards who had then used the ‘doppelganger’ spell to take their places.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Lucy said. “I can remember doing the gig. Can’t you, Stuart?”
“Yes. I can remember what we sang, and all the people there. I think you must’ve got this wrong, Jill.”
“I’m afraid not. After the doppelgangers came back from doing the gig, I saw one of them cast a spell on both of you. I wasn’t sure what it was at the time, but now I’m almost certain that he was implanting false memories. That’s why you both think you remember doing the gig.”
“The same thing must have happened before,” Seb said. “That’s why we received complaints even though the performer was sure the customers had been happy.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “And I’d bet good money that there’ll be complaints about this gig before the day is out.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Seb thumped the table.
“You’re not going to like this, but while I was at the industrial unit, I saw the person who was clearly in charge of the whole operation. It was Eddie Dunston.”
Seb’s face fell. “Eddie? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I was only a few feet away from him.”
“I can’t believe it. I thought he was a friend of mine. Why would he do something like this?”
“You mentioned that he was hoping to open an office in the human world too. Maybe he thought he’d take out the competition first.”
“He’ll regret the day he ever crossed me.”
If the look on Seb’s face was anything to go by, I wouldn’t have wanted to be in Eddie Dunston’s shoes.
***
The cat himself was clearly just as eager as I was because he had already set up the pot and winks on my desk.
“I thought you’d chickened out,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is going to be the easiest money I’ve ever made.”
“If you’re so confident, why don’t we up the stakes?”
“Fine by me. How about we make it fifty?”
“Fifty it is.”
Just then, a horrible thought struck me, as I remembered Mr Ivers’ performance in Coffee Games. “Winky, have you ever heard of the reverse wink?”
“The what?”
“How about the boomerang wink?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are we playing this match or not?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
We’d agreed upon a best of five contest, and I took the first game, but it was very close. Winky was clearly nobody’s fool when it came to tiddlywinks. In the second game, he took the lead straight away, and very shortly afterwards, the match was level at one game all. The third game was another close one, but this time it was Winky who won.
“There’s no coming back from that.” He taunted me. “I tell you what, I’m a generous kind of a guy. If you give me forty pounds right now, we’ll call it quits.”
“Not a chance. I’m going to win the next two games and then you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face.”
The fourth game couldn’t have been closer, but I won it with the last shot. The match was now tied at two games each, so everything hung on the final game. It was obvious that Winky was feeling the pressure too because he kept shuffling around on the desk.
The final game went back and forth. I landed a wink in the pot. Then Winky did the same. I missed one, and so did Winky. Then I missed another, but this time, Winky landed his wink in the centre of the pot. If I didn’t get my final wink into the pot, I’d lose, and I would never hear the end of it.
I was determined not to be hurried as I carefully lined up the shot.
