by Adele Abbott
“Whatever happened to punctuality? That’s what I’d like to know.” He tapped his watch. “Thirty minutes I’ve been waiting for her. It really isn’t good enough. If you aren’t here to measure for the blinds, why are you here?”
“My name’s Jill Maxwell. I’m a private investigator.”
“Private investigator?” He looked me up and down. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Well, I never. I didn’t realise that women could do that kind of thing.”
“You’d be surprised what women can do.”
“What is it you’re investigating, young lady?”
“There’s been a report of a shooting in the house next door.”
“Good gracious? Are you sure?”
“Apparently, it was witnessed by someone who lives in one of the properties at the other side of the park.”
“How on Earth did they see it from over there? I can barely make out those houses from here.”
“Can I take it that you didn’t hear anything unusual from next door?”
“No, just the usual arguments. Those two are always going at it. It never stops. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them did shoot the other one. To be honest, it would be a blessing. How am I supposed to watch my cricket with all that racket going on?”
“Do you know your neighbours well?”
“I do not, and what’s more, I have absolutely no desire to. I like to keep myself to myself.”
“Can I ask, do you live here alone?”
“Yes. My wife, Jennifer, died fifteen years ago. Very inconsiderate of her if you ask me. I have to make my own meals now. It’s such a nuisance. And this house doesn’t keep itself tidy, you know. I don’t suppose you’re looking for a housekeeper’s job, are you?”
“Me? No, sorry.”
“Housekeepers are so difficult to come by, and even when you manage to get one, they only need the slightest excuse to leave. The last one complained because I left my dirty underwear on the bathroom floor.”
Gross! “Right, okay, well thank you very much for your time.”
“No problem, and if you happen to see the blind woman on your travels, would you tell her to get a move on?”
“Sure.”
“If you change your mind about the housekeeper’s job, come back and see me. The job’s yours for the asking.”
As I made my way back across the park, I was trying to figure out what to do about Rusty. If I told him that I was coming around to the police’s view that he’d imagined the whole thing, he would be devastated. In the end, I decided not to tell him anything just yet. Not until I was one-hundred percent sure that he was mistaken.
I was halfway across the park when something hit me on top of the head.
“Ouch.” I glanced down and saw the offending object: An acorn. Above me, perched on a branch was a squirrel; he was grinning. “Hey you!” I shouted. “What do you think you’re doing? That hurt.”
“It serves you right.” He sneered.
“What do you mean, it serves me right? What did I ever do to you?”
“This is my territory. Go and find your own acorns.”
“I wasn’t looking for acorns. I was just walking through the park, minding my own business when you threw one at me.”
“That’s what they all say. If you come around here again, you’ll get more of that.”
What a horrible creature. I was sorely tempted to do something unspeakable to him, but I turned the other cheek and carried on through the park. Maybe Mrs V wasn’t as crazy as I’d thought she was. When she’d told me that she and Armi had come under attack from squirrels in their back garden, I’d thought she was nuts. Maybe, she’d been right all along. If so, why had the squirrel population suddenly turned to violence?
Chapter 12
It was Saturday morning, and Jack and I were in the kitchen, eating breakfast. Florence had already finished hers and was in the back garden, playing with Buddy.
When I’d finished eating, I took the bowl over to the sink, and glanced out of the window. “I’ll need to have serious words with that dog.”
“Why?” Jack looked up from his newspaper. “Is he refusing to play ball again?”
“He is fetching it, but instead of running after it like a normal dog, he just saunters up and down the garden at a snail’s pace.”
“Take a look at this, Jill.” Jack pointed to the headlines on the front page of The Bugle, which he now had delivered every morning (for reasons that were beyond my comprehension). “There’s been another bank robbery.”
“Where?”
“In West Chipping. The MO sounds identical to the one in Washbridge. There were two robbers inside the bank, but only one of them was caught. The other one disappeared with all the money.”
“And let me guess, there’s no trace of him on CCTV?”
“That’s right.”
“I didn’t mention this before because I wasn’t sure if it was relevant, but I was talking to Daze and Blaze yesterday. They’re up to their necks in cases at the moment, and one of them is a fugitive—a wizard who goes by the nickname of Romeo. He’s been responsible for dozens of bank robberies in Candlefield.”
“And you think he might have had something to do with the recent ones?”
“Possibly. Apparently, he’s earned himself a bad reputation amongst the criminal fraternity in the paranormal world.”
“How come?”
“He has a habit of skipping the crime scene with all the money, leaving his partner to carry the can. Daze thinks it may have got to the point where no one in the paranormal world is willing to work with him.”
“And she thinks he may have moved over here?”
“Yeah, and I’m going to try and help her to find him.”
“How?”
“I have my methods.”
***
When Florence was four years old, she decided she wanted to go to dance class. I’d tried my best to persuade her that she’d enjoy kickboxing, judo or karate much more, but she (and Jack) were having none of it. Several of her friends from nursery went to dance class, and she wanted to do the same. So, every Saturday morning, Jack or I (sometimes both of us) took her to the dance class, which was held in the village hall. This was the same building that for a short time had been home to the Middle Tweaking Theatre Company.
Although I like nothing better than to see Florence enjoying herself, there can’t be many things that are more boring than watching a load of five-year-olds ‘dancing’ around a village hall. Particularly when that village hall is always cold.
“I really think she’s starting to get the hang of it.” Jack pointed to Florence who was wearing a cute little tutu.
“She’s doing great. Who’s the big girl over there?”
All of the other girls and boys were about the same height as Florence, except this one girl who was at least two or three inches taller than the others. She was a werewolf which caught me by surprise because I hadn’t encountered any other sups in Middle Tweaking.
“I don’t know. I’ve not seen her here before. She must be new.” Jack glanced around at the other parents. “There’s a couple over there that I don’t recognise. Maybe she’s their daughter.”
I followed his gaze, and sure enough the proud parents were both werewolves.
Florence cried out. I looked around, to see her lying on the floor, and was just about to run over to her, when she jumped up and said, “I’m alright, Mummy.”
I turned to Jack. “What happened?”
“The big girl knocked her over. It was clearly an accident. She didn’t mean to do it.”
Ten minutes later, the young werewolf girl bumped into Florence again. This time, though, Florence managed to stay on her feet, and seemed totally unconcerned.
I was livid. I was sure the big girl had done it deliberately, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.
“No, Jill!” Jack grabbed my arm.
“What?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can’t use magic.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt her. I was just going to—”
“No! Do you hear me?”
“Okay.” That husband of mine could be such a killjoy sometimes.
***
When dance class had finally ended, the three of us made our way back home through the village.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Florence?” I said. “That big girl didn’t hurt you, did she?”
“No, Mummy. Wendy’s my new friend. She said that one day I can go to her house to play with her dollies and her rat.”
“She has a rat?”
“Yes, his name is Ratty. Can I have a milkshake please, Mummy?”
“We don’t have any in the house.”
“They sell them in there.” She pointed to Tweaking Tea Rooms. “My friend, Jackie, says the milkshakes in there are the best in the world. Can we, please?”
I turned to Jack. “Have you been in there before?”
“No, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t treat ourselves. Are you okay for time?”
“Yeah. I don’t have to be at Freda Pearldiver’s until one o’clock.”
“Come on, then.” He took Florence’s hand. “Let’s go and get you that milkshake.”
The small tea room was all brass kettles, lace curtains and doilies. We’d no sooner stepped through the door than a young woman, wearing a black dress and white apron, came scurrying over to us.
“Good morning. Welcome to Tweaking Tea Rooms. Would you like a window table? They’re very popular, but we do have one free at the moment.”
I glanced around at the empty shop.
“Yes, please, that would be great,” Jack said.
We’d just sat down and hadn’t even had a chance to pick up the menus before the waitress pounced. “What can I get for you?”
“Could you give us a minute while we decide?” I said.
“Err, yes, of course.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder at a woman, seated on a stool in front of the counter. She had grey hair with purple highlights and looked quite ferocious.
I had assumed the waitress would come back once we’d had chance to decide what we wanted, but instead she continued to hover close by.
“Are you ready to order yet?”
I was just about to tell her to back off when Florence piped up, “I’d like a strawberry milkshake, please.”
“Do you have those?” Jack asked.
“Yes, we do lots of different flavours of milkshake.” The waitress glanced again over her shoulder.
She was beginning to freak me out, so I asked, “Is everything okay?”
After another quick glance over her shoulder, she leaned forward and whispered, “That’s Miss Drinkwater, the boss, she gets annoyed if we don’t take the orders quickly. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’ll just have a cup of tea, please.”
“Tea for me, too,” Jack said.
“Would you like anything to eat?” the waitress asked.
“Can I have a bun, please, Mummy.” Florence gave me that cute little smile of hers. The one I could never say no to.
“What kind of cakes do you have?” I asked.
“They’re all in the display cabinet over there. Why don’t you come and have a look?” The waitress held out her hand for Florence.
I decided I’d better go with them, in case Florence tried to choose the biggest cake in the cabinet.
What do you mean, like mother like daughter?
As we walked across the shop, the woman at the counter fixed us with her gaze. I thought if I introduced myself it might defrost her a little.
“Hi, I’m Jill Maxwell. That’s my husband, Jack, over at the table, and this is our daughter, Florence. We live in the old watermill.”
“Pleased to meet you, I’m sure. I’m Marcy Drinkwater. I’m the owner of this establishment.”
“It’s the first time we’ve been in here.”
“How long have you lived in Middle Tweaking?”
“Just a couple of months.”
“And this is your first visit to the tea room?”
“Err, yeah. Sorry.” For reasons I can’t explain, I felt as though I needed to justify myself. “We’ve been rather busy, as you can imagine.”
“Hmm. I’ve been running this tea room for almost twenty-five years now. You won’t find a better cup of tea or coffee in a twenty-mile radius.”
“Right.”
“Has Marian taken your order?”
“Yes, I have, Miss Drinkwater.” The waitress sounded even more nervous. “The little girl is just deciding what bun she’d like.”
Florence’s eyes were as big as saucers, as she surveyed the cakes on offer. “Can I have that one please, Mummy?” She pointed to a cake with icing and a small chocolate flake on top.
“The flake cake?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay. And Jack and I will have scones with jam and cream, please.”
“Have you written all that down, Marian?” Marcy Drinkwater snapped.
“I’m just doing it now, Miss Drinkwater.”
“Be quick about it. There are other people to serve, you know.”
I glanced again around the shop, which was still empty.
“She’s a bit much, isn’t she?” Jack said in a whisper once we were back at the table.
“You’re not kidding. I feel really sorry for that poor girl. Fancy having to work for that ogre.”
Having the ‘ogre’ stare at us while we were eating was a little off-putting, but the tea was very good, and the scones were to die for.
“Did you enjoy your milkshake?” Jack asked Florence.
“It was yummy.” She had a pink milk moustache.
“What about the bun?” I said. “You haven’t eaten very much of it.” She’d eaten the icing, the chocolate flake, and maybe a few crumbs of the cake itself.
“I’m full, Mummy.”
Suddenly, Miss Drinkwater was standing next to our table. How had she got there? I hadn’t seen her move.
“Is there something wrong with that cake, young lady?” she snapped.
I stepped in. “The cake is fine, Miss Drinkwater. Florence just isn’t very hungry at the moment.”
“Very well.” She snatched the plate from the table, huffing to herself all the way back to the counter.
We were just getting ready to leave when another couple, clearly tourists, came through the door. They’d no sooner stepped foot inside than Marian ushered them to a table and asked if they were ready to place their order.
“Is it just me?” Jack said, when we were back at the house. “Or is the woman who runs that tea room psycho?”
“There’s no wonder the place is empty. I bet no one ever goes there twice.”
***
Freda Pearldiver was a charming woman who couldn’t do enough for me. After showing me into her gorgeous living room, she disappeared into the kitchen, and returned a few minutes later, carrying a silver tray with a pot of tea on it.
“I do hope you like loose tea, Jill?”
“To be perfectly honest with you, Freda, I can’t remember the last time I had any.”
“In that case, you’re in for a real treat.” She picked up the pot and poured a cup for me. “Do help yourself to milk and sugar.”
I took a sip.
“What do you think?”
“It’s lovely.” I picked a couple of tea leaves off my tongue.
“I buy it from a small shop called Tea for Three.”
“Right.” I was trying not to choke on the tea leaves. “Don’t you normally use a tea strainer with loose tea?”
“I find that spoils the taste. Now, you said you wanted to talk to me about Maxine.”
“Indirectly, yes. It’s actually related to my daughter, Florence. I’m not sure if the headmistress
mentioned it to you, but my husband, Jack, is a human.”
“Yes, Miss Bogart told me.”
“I understand that Maxine’s father is a human too?”
“That’s right, but Graham walked out on us not long after Maxine was born, so he hasn’t played any part in her upbringing.”
“That can’t have been easy for you.”
“It wasn’t, particularly not at first, but it got easier as the years went by.”
“We’re trying to decide how much magic we should teach Florence.”
“We?” Freda looked shocked. “Surely your husband doesn’t know you and your daughter are sups?”
Oh bum!
“No, of course not. I meant to say that I’m trying to decide. I’d planned to teach her just a handful of spells for now, and then when she’s older, I can introduce her to the more advanced spells. I’m curious to hear how you approached this with Maxine?”
“Actually, I didn’t teach Maxine any magic at all until she was eleven years old. In fact, she didn’t even know she was a witch until then.”
“Really? That does surprise me.”
“She only found out she was a witch when the invitation from CASS arrived. To be honest, I never for one moment expected her to be invited to attend CASS. It came as a total surprise.”
“What happened when she found out that she was a witch?”
“At first, she simply didn’t believe it. Then, she became very angry with me for keeping her in the dark.”
“But she still wanted to go to CASS?”
“Once she’d calmed down, I gave her the choice. I said it was entirely up to her whether she went there or not.”
“And how is she doing there?”
“It was very difficult for her at first because most of the kids live in the sup world. And, the few that do live in the human world have known they were sups all their lives. That’s why I think my decision not to tell her was a mistake. Thankfully, she’s settled in now and is doing well with all of her studies.”
“That must be a relief for you.”
“It is. What will you do if Florence gets an invitation to CASS? It’s not like you can discuss it with your husband, is it?”
“I have no idea. Look, Freda, I’ll be honest with you, the main reason I wanted to talk to you was to ask if you’d give me permission to speak with Maxine. I’d love to get her take on all of this, but I’ll understand if you’d prefer I didn’t.”