by Adele Abbott
I put him down, and Jack and I went back into the house.
“What was that all about?” Jack said.
“I’ve no idea. He said he was barking at a thing, but he didn’t know what it was. That dog is a liability.”
Florence came up behind us. “I thought you’d gone to work, Mummy?”
“My car has broken down. I’m waiting for a man to come and mend it.”
“Why doesn’t Daddy mend it?”
“Daddy doesn’t know how cars work.”
“Why was Buddy barking, Mummy?”
“I don’t know. He’s a silly dog.”
“Is it okay if I play with him?”
“Of course it is.”
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
“Good morning, love.” The AA man was wearing a yellow hi-vis jacket. “Got a problem with your car?”
“It won’t start.”
“Come on, let’s see what’s wrong with it.” I followed him down the path. “Can you open the bonnet for me?”
“Sure.” I sat in the car and popped the bonnet.
“Okay, turn the key.”
The engine made the same awful noise as it had before. He came around to the driver’s side window.
“When was the last time you had this serviced, love?”
“It must be about four—”
“Months?”
“Years.”
“Hmm. That explains it. It’s a bit of a mess under there.”
“Can you get it going?”
“I think so, but you really must take it in for a service.”
“I will. I promise.”
He messed around with the engine for a few minutes, and then shouted, “Try it again now.”
This time it started first time. “Thanks.”
“I can’t promise how much longer it will keep going. You definitely need to get it seen to.”
“I will. Thanks for your help.”
When he’d left, Jack came out of the house.
“Is it okay now?”
“Yeah, he got it going, but he said it needs a service.”
“I’ve been telling you that for ages. You’d better get it booked in.”
“This old thing’s had it. It would be throwing good money after bad. I need a new car.”
“Can we afford one?”
“We’ll have to. I can’t do my job without one.”
“We definitely can’t afford to buy a new one.”
“I know. I’ll find something second-hand. Anyway, I’d better get going. I’m already running late. See you tonight.”
After that distraction, I didn’t have time to call into the office, so I drove straight to West Chipping, where Charlene Vallance lived on the top floor of an apartment block.
My day was continuing to go from bad to worse when I spotted an ‘Out of Order’ notice stuck on the lift door.
Great!
By the time I reached the eighth floor, my legs had turned to jelly, and I was gasping for air. As I leaned against the wall, trying to compose myself, the lift doors opened and out stepped an elderly man carrying two shopping bags.
“Are you alright, dear? You’ve gone a funny colour.”
“Err, yeah. I thought the lift was out of order.”
“You mean the sign downstairs?” He grinned. “That’s just the kids, they’re always sticking that on the doors. This lift never breaks down. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea while you catch your breath?”
“No, I’m okay now, thanks.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, well take care.” And off he went.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been caught out like this. If I got my hands on those kids, I’d turn them into frogs. Then boil them very slowly.
What? Of course I’m only joking. (Or am I?)
The woman who answered the door of flat 813 was in her sixties and had a headful of curlers.
“You must be Jill. Sorry about the curlers. I’m going to my daughter’s later. It’s my grandson’s third birthday, so I want my hair to look its best. Are you feeling alright? You look a little out of sorts.”
“I’m fine. I’ve just walked up the stairs.”
“You should have taken the lift, dear.”
“I will next time.”
“Come on in. I’ve just made some tea—that’ll sort you out. Do you take milk and sugar?”
“Just milk for me, please.”
“What about biscuits? I’ve got some lovely bourbons.”
“No, thanks. Just the tea will be fine.”
We settled down in the living room, in front of a full-length window that looked out over West Chipping.
“You have a great view from up here, Mrs Vallance.”
“Call me Charlene, dear. I was a little apprehensive when we first moved in because I’d always lived in bungalows and houses. When they offered us this place, we almost turned it down, but I love it now. It has a great view and because it’s on the top floor, I don’t have to put up with the sound of footsteps above me. When we moved here, I was worried that the lift might keep breaking down, but it’s never broken down once.”
“That’s good to know. I take it that’s your husband?” I pointed to the photograph on the sideboard: A much younger Charlene was standing arm in arm with a handsome young man who was at least a foot taller than her.
“Yeah, that’s my Mickey. He was a handsome devil when he was younger. He wasn’t so bad when he got older for that matter.”
“How long had he been a clown?”
“He was already doing it when I first met him. If I’m honest, it put me off at first. At that age, you dream of going out with a movie star or a rich businessman, don’t you? Not a clown. I used to get a lot of stick from my girlfriends, but I stood by Mickey and I’m glad I did. He was a great husband, dad and granddad. He was a brilliant clown too. I wish you could have seen his act. I have some of his videos if you’d like to watch one.”
“Not right now, thanks. I’m a bit pushed for time.”
“I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Don Keigh mentioned that your husband had some problems with his heart.”
“Yes, but as long as he took his tablets every day, he was fine.”
“How was he in himself in the days before he died?”
“Happy, but then Mickey was always happy. Always laughing. That’s why he made such a great clown. He loved to make people laugh, especially kids. Did you know Mickey had the longest clown shoes in the country?”
“Don did mention something about that.”
“They were a devil to keep clean, I can tell you. He got me to try them on once, and I couldn’t even lift my foot up. I don’t know how he used to walk in them, but they made the kids howl with laughter. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see one of his videos?”
“Maybe next time. Was he okay when he left you that day?”
“He was fine. He was looking forward to the meeting at NOCA. He enjoyed the banter with the other clowns. Hang on, I tell a lie. He had got himself a bit wound up because his car wouldn’t start, but he managed to get a lift, so he wasn’t late for his meeting.”
Chapter 10
After I left Charlene Vallance, I drove towards Washbridge where I’d arranged to meet Randy Seaburn’s widow, Patricia. Randy, AKA Jolly Jelly, had been the second of the two clowns to die of a heart attack during a NOCA meeting.
Patricia Seaburn lived in an impressive house surrounded by a high wall. Clearly the clown business had paid well for Randy Seaburn. The large metal gates appeared to be locked, so I pressed the call button on the intercom.
“Hi, it’s Jill Maxwell.”
“Who?”
“Jill Maxwell. I phoned earlier.”
“Oh yes.”
“I’m parked on the road outside your house. Could you buzz me in the gate, please?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. It seems to be stuck. I’m wa
iting for someone to repair it.”
“In that case, could you come down here?”
“Sorry?”
“I said could you come down to the gate?”
“I would, but I twisted my ankle yesterday and I can barely walk on it.”
“Oh dear. I suppose we could just talk through this intercom.”
“Pardon?”
“CAN WE TALK THROUGH THE INTERCOM?”
“Sorry, this intercom is useless. What did you say?”
I was getting nowhere fast. If I wanted to speak to her, I was going to have to get over the gate. Normally, I would have used the ‘levitate’ spell, but the street was very busy, and someone might have seen me. I took a closer look at the gate; it wasn’t all that tall. How difficult could it be to climb over?
As it turned out, it was very difficult, but I managed to get to the top, where I sat astride it while I caught my breath.
“Are you okay up there, missus?” a man who was walking past shouted.
“Yes, thanks.”
“It’d be much easier if you just opened the gate, you know.” He laughed.
“Gee, why didn’t I think of that?”
I was halfway down the other side when I lost my footing and fell. Fortunately, I didn’t break any bones, but I still ended up with a few scrapes on my legs. After dusting myself down, I walked up the drive to the house and knocked on the door. It was answered by a woman on crutches.
“You made it. How did you get in?”
“I had to climb over the gate. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” She glanced at my legs. “Have you hurt yourself?”
“It’s nothing. I’m okay.”
“I thought afterwards, we could have just talked on the phone.”
Duh! Why hadn’t I thought of that?
“Never mind. I’m here now.”
“Do come in.” She led the way into the lounge. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’ve just had one at Charlene Vallance’s house.”
“Charlene and I have got to know one another quite well over the last few weeks. She’s a lovely woman.”
“She is.”
“I’m still not sure why you want to talk to me. Are you a member of NOCA?”
“Err, no. I’m actually a private investigator.”
“Oh? I don’t understand. Randy died of natural causes.”
“I realise that, but Don Keigh is keen to make sure nothing was missed. It’s just a formality really. Is that okay?”
“I guess so. Did you know Randy, Jill?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You haven’t seen his act, then?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“He was known as Jolly Jelly because his act was built around jelly. He was absolutely mad about the stuff.”
“Don Keigh said as much.”
“Talking of jelly, I have plenty of it in the fridge. Old habits die hard, I suppose. Would you like some?”
“No, thanks.”
“Are you sure? I have all the flavours: Strawberry, orange, raspberry—”
“Not for me, thanks. Can I ask if your husband had any health issues, Patricia?”
“No, he was fit and well as far as I knew. That’s why this all came as such a shock. There was no warning whatsoever.”
“How was he in himself? Was he happy in the weeks and days leading up to his death?”
“Yes, but then Randy was always happy. You have to be if you’re a clown. If you’re not, people can tell. There’s no faking it.”
“How did he feel about the NOCA committee meetings? Did he enjoy them?”
“Not particularly, but he felt he should play his part.”
“And on the day that he died, did anything out of the ordinary happen?”
“Not really.” She hesitated. “Except—”
“Yes?”
“It was nothing really, but I do remember he was a little stressed because he’d lost his wallet. It wasn’t the money that bothered him. All his credit cards and his driving licence were in there. Fortunately, Trevor found it. Randy must have left it in his car when Trevor gave him a lift the previous day.”
“Would that be Trevor Hee?”
“That’s right. Such a nice man. Do you know him?”
“I met him briefly at Chuckle House.”
“I have a video of Randy’s if you’d like to see it.”
“No, thanks, Patricia. I should be making tracks. I’ve got everything I need for now.”
“Will you be alright climbing over the gate?”
“I’ll be fine, thanks.”
There was no way I was going to risk climbing over that gate again. If I fell onto the pavement, I would do myself a serious injury. When I reached the wall, I checked that Patricia wasn’t looking through the window, then made myself invisible and levitated over it. Once on the other side, I had to wait a few minutes until the coast was clear before reversing the ‘invisible’ spell.
***
The car spluttered several times before it eventually decided to start. This situation was hopeless. How could I run a business without a reliable motor? At a push, I could have used magic to travel around, but it would have been too risky to do that all the time. I would just have to bite the bullet and buy a new car.
There was no point in going to any of the main franchises because we simply couldn’t afford a brand-new car. There were several second-hand car lots around Washbridge. I’d driven past one of them on the way to Patricia Seaburn’s house, so I retraced my route and pulled into Carr’s Cars.
I’d always hated buying cars because, in my experience, the salesmen were all cut from the same sleazy cloth; they were all untrustworthy and very pushy.
There was row after row of cars on display, but most of them were too expensive. I’d been looking around the lot for about fifteen minutes when I spotted a man headed my way.
“Good afternoon, young lady. And welcome to Carr’s Cars.”
“Hi.”
“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Charlie Carr, the owner of this prestigious business. Carr by name, car by trade.” He laughed.
I wondered how many times in a day he said that.
“I’m Jill.”
“You won’t find better cars at a better price anywhere in a hundred-mile radius, Jill. You have Charlie Carr’s cast iron guarantee on that.”
“Right.”
“What are you looking for? A little run-around to do the shopping while hubby’s at work?”
Seems I could add misogyny to the list of this guy’s faults.
“Actually, I’m a private investigator.”
“How fascinating. Have you seen anything that’s caught your eye?”
“A couple, yeah. I quite like the blue one over there. And the green one in the row behind that.”
“Would you like me to get the keys, so you can take a look inside them?”
“Yes, please.”
He hurried back to the building, and returned a few minutes later, keys in hand.
“Okay, Jill, let’s start with the blue one.” He opened the door and invited me to sit in the driver’s seat. The interior was very clean, and the mileage was relatively low. I was liking this car more and more. “Would you care to take her for a spin?”
“Can I take a look at the green one, first, please?”
“Certainly.”
The interior of the green car was nowhere near as good as the blue one, and the mileage was substantially higher.
“I think I’ll just test drive the blue car if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely.”
I’m always a little nervous the first time I drive a new car. Even more so because I had Charlie Carr sitting next to me. That’s probably why I managed to stall it the first time.
“Gentle on the clutch, Jill.”
This man was beginning to get on my nerves.
I took her for a spin and put her through her paces. It was a sm
ooth drive and I really liked the car. When we got back to the lot, Charlie rushed to open the door for me.
“So, Jill, what say you? Is this the car for you?”
“Maybe.”
“I imagine you’ll need to go home and check with hubby?”
“I don’t need to check with anyone. I like the car, but what will you give me for my old one?”
“Where is it?”
“Over there.”
“Is it behind that heap of scrap that someone’s dumped in the car park? I do wish people wouldn’t do that. They do it to save themselves the expense of getting it towed to the scrap yard.”
“That heap of scrap, as you put it, is my car.”
“Oh.”
Needless to say, I was offered little more than scrap value for the old car, but to be honest, I’d expected that.
“When will I be able to pick up my new car, Charlie?”
“How about Monday? Does that suit?”
“Monday will be fine. I’ll see you then.”
***
The last time I was at Candlefield Bowling Club was when I’d been chasing Matilda, the enchanted lawnmower, who had gone rogue. Fortunately, I’d caught it before it could do any serious damage to the bowling green.
The last time I was there, the place had been pretty much deserted, but today most of the benches were occupied, and there were several women on the green, obviously about to play a match. I’d no sooner walked through the gate than a woman approached me.
“There you are, at last. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“Sorry?”
“Come on. Gwen is waiting for you.”
“Oh, right, thanks.”
Given that Gwen was expecting me, I had to surmise that Grandma must have been in touch with her. They had clearly managed to put aside their differences.
The woman practically dragged me onto the bowling green, and pushed me towards an elderly woman who was wearing shorts, sandals and a turquoise t-shirt with Candlefield Flyers printed on the back. Half of the women on the green were wearing identical t-shirts, the others were wearing red t-shirts with Candlefield Chipmunks printed on the back.
I would need to speak to Gwen quickly, and get out of her way before the match started, but before I could, she handed me two bowls.
“You should have been here fifteen minutes ago,” she snapped.