by Adele Abbott
“Come on, Auntie Jill. Come on the slide.” Lizzie dragged me around the back of the house.
Peter had put up a small slide and a swing in the back garden where the compost heap used to be.
“Would you like to go on the slide, Auntie Jill?”
“I don’t think so. I’m a bit too big.”
Mikey appeared. And so did his drum!
“I wouldn’t play the drum out here. You’ll scare the chickens.”
“It doesn’t scare them, Auntie Jill. They like to dance to it. Look!” He walked over to the fence, and began hammering away on the drum. The chickens started to run around in circles; no doubt trying to escape the awful noise.
“I’m not sure they’re dancing, Mikey.”
“They are! Look at that one. It’s twirling around.”
“Why don’t I hold your drum while you go on the swing?”
“I don’t like the swing. It’s boring. I want to go on the slide.”
The two of them took turns on the slide while I sat on the bench that was underneath the back window. I was almost asleep when a frantic voice made me stir.
I stood up, and went to see who was shouting, and where the fire was.
“Hello, can I help?”
“Is Kathy in?”
“No, I’m sorry. She’s had to work late. I’m Jill, her sister.”
“Oh dear.” The woman looked distraught.
“Is there something I can help with?”
“I don’t know what to do. My kids go to the same school as Mikey and Lizzie. They should have been home twenty minutes ago, but there’s no sign of them. I’ve checked at the school, but they’re not there. I’m worried something has happened to them.”
“Have you contacted the police?”
“No. I suppose I should.”
“Would you like to borrow my phone?”
It was too late. She’d already rushed across the road.
Daze’s words echoed around my head: wicked witch, gingerbread men.
I gave her a ring. “Daze, it’s Jill. Are you still on the school crossing patrol?”
“No, I’ve just finished.”
“Okay. This may be nothing, but I’ve just had one of Kathy’s friends come over here. Her two kids are usually home by now, but they haven’t turned up. I just wondered—”
“The wicked witch?”
“Do you think it could be her?”
“It’s possible. We’ve had a sighting of her halfway between this school and the one that Blaze is working at. If those kids walked home that way, then maybe.”
“That doesn’t sound good. If they’ve been turned into gingerbread, their poor mother will be devastated.”
“It’s okay, Blaze is tracking her as we speak. I’ll catch up with him, and see if the kids are with her.”
“Will you keep me posted?”
“Of course. I’ll give you a call as soon as I have any news.”
“Okay, thanks Daze.”
Ten minutes later, Kathy’s car pulled into the driveway.
“Are the kids all right?” She came rushing into the house.
“Of course they are.”
“Where are they?”
“Around the back. They’re playing on the slide.”
“Are you sure?”
“Look, there they are.”
She saw the kids and sighed with relief. “I was so worried.”
“I know you think I’m hopeless at everything, but I can look after two kids for thirty minutes.”
“It wasn’t that. It’s just that Sheila called me at work. Her two kids have gone missing.”
“It must have been Sheila who came around here earlier. She was looking for you. Have they found them yet?”
“I don’t think so. When she told me, I tried to call you, but you were engaged.”
That must have been when I was talking to Daze.
“Sorry, Kathy. I didn’t realise you’d called.”
“I shut up shop, and came straight over. Your grandmother will just have to deal with it. It’s not my fault if she goes AWOL.”
I followed Kathy out to the garden where she gave Mikey and Lizzie a big hug.
“Poor Sheila,” she said to me. “She must be distraught.”
My phone rang. “Just a second, Kathy. I need to take this.”
I went back into the house, so Kathy wouldn’t overhear.
“Daze? What’s happening?”
“Everything’s okay, Jill. The wicked witch had the kids with her, but we got to her in time. She’s locked up in Candlefield.”
“What about the kids?”
“They’re fine. We cast the ‘forget’ spell, and sent them on their way. They should be home any minute now.”
“That’s great. Thanks, Daze.”
I went back outside. “The kids are okay, Kathy.”
“How do you know?”
Whoops! That was a good question.
“I read it on my news app.”
Kathy took out her phone. “There’s nothing on mine about it.”
“Let’s go and check with your friend.”
Kathy grabbed the kids, and we all started down the street.
“That’s them!” Kathy pointed. “That’s Sheila’s kids!”
At that moment, Sheila came rushing out of her house, and hurried over to her kids.
“Thank goodness,” Kathy said. “They’re back safe.”
“Yeah, thank goodness.”
“I still don’t understand how you knew, Jill.”
“My app must be more up to date than yours.”
***
The next morning, I headed back to Middle Tweaking. Myrtle had set up two more interviews: The first with Justin Flower, who was the baker in the village, and the other with Harry Payne, the butcher. As before, I met up with her at the old watermill.
“Jill, I know I told you nine o’clock, but I’ve just had a call from Justin Flower. He said he needs to put it back fifteen minutes. We may as well have a cup of tea while we’re waiting.”
“Okay, that would be great.”
“Custard creams?”
“Absolutely. Thanks.”
The more I got to know Myrtle, the more I liked the old girl. When she’d first walked into my office, I’d made the mistake of stereotyping her. I’d thought she was just an old biddy who probably spent all of her time knitting and baking. In fact, nothing could have been further from the truth. Myrtle was so switched on, it wasn’t true. It took me all my time just to keep up with her. She had all the latest gadgets: tablet, smartphone, you name it, she’d got it. She knew her way around the internet far better than I did. Myrtle struck me as a tough old bird. She was certainly nobody’s fool.
“Tell me, Myrtle. How did you end up living here in Middle Tweaking?”
“I was born here.”
“Have you lived all your life here?”
“No. I moved away for many years after university.”
“Doing what? What was your job?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“I bet it was exciting. Did you come back to Middle Tweaking after you’d retired?”
“Retired?” She recoiled. “I don’t like that word. There are some people who believe you have a sell-by date. It doesn’t seem to matter to them how capable or physically fit you are. You reach a certain number, and that’s it—you’re done. Goodbye. Here’s your pension.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“More or less, but I’m not ready for retirement. I doubt I ever will be. I like to keep active. That’s one of the reasons I get involved with these investigations.” She glanced at her watch. “Come on. It’s time to pay a visit to Justin.”
Either Justin Flower was wearing three-week old socks, or something had curled up and died in his front room. I kept glancing at Myrtle to see if she’d noticed, but she didn’t seem to. Maybe she had trouble with her sinuses.
“Who’s this?” He glared at me.
“I did tell you, Justin,” Myrtle said, as cool, calm and collected as always. “This is Jill Gooder. She was at the final murder mystery evening, and is helping with my investigation.”
“I don’t see why you need to investigate at all, Myrtle. You’re not the police.”
“Is there some reason you don’t want to talk to me, Justin?” Her eyes burned into him. “Do you have something to hide?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then what possible harm can it do for us to have a chat? We are neighbours, after all.”
Myrtle was quick to take command of the situation. I was impressed.
“So, Justin,” she said. “How did you get on with Madge?”
“I didn’t like her.”
“That’s honest, at least. And why was that?”
“She almost put me out of business.”
“How did she do that?”
“She reported me to Trading Standards. She said she’d found a dead fly in one of my cakes.”
“Had she?”
“Of course not. There are no flies or any other insects in my bakery. It’s spotless. There must have been a dead fly on the worktop when she cut the cake. The whole thing was ridiculous. She didn’t even have the courtesy to come and tell me first; she just reported it to Trading Standards. They came to see me, and carried out an inspection of the bakery. You know what those people are like. They’re vicious jobsworths. They insisted I make all kinds of unnecessary improvements. It cost me a small fortune.”
“Are you sure that it was Madge who reported you?”
“Of course I am. Who else would it have been? She was always tutting about the cleanliness of the shop.”
“Did you actually ask her if she was the one?”
“Of course. She had the audacity to come into the shop after the inspector had been. I refused to serve her. When she asked why, I said it was because she’d reported me to Trading Standards.”
“What did she say to that?”
“She didn’t deny it. She just turned around and walked out.”
“What about the affair with the lottery?”
“That’s another thing. She cheated us all out of our money.”
“You don’t think she might have forgotten on that one occasion?”
“Of course not. She knew the odds of us winning were so small that instead of putting the bet on, she pocketed the money. I reckon she’d been doing it for months. She must have made a small fortune off us. Then when our numbers came up, she was in a right pickle. That’s why she pretended she’d forgotten.”
“Some of the other players believed her. I take it you didn’t?”
“Not for one moment.”
“Okay, thank you for being so candid, Justin.”
Chapter 12
Our next appointment was with Harry Payne. When Myrtle knocked on his door, it was a woman who answered—a woman with shocking red hair.
“Hello, Barbara,” Myrtle said. “Harry is expecting us.”
“Not here, he isn’t.”
“He told me ten o’ clock.”
“That’s as maybe, but Harry doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Since when?”
“Since when is it any of your business?”
Myrtle didn’t respond. Instead, she engaged her secret weapon—a kind of death-ray glare.
“If you must know, since two weeks ago. I threw him out. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”
“I had no idea. I bumped into him in the village, and arranged to meet him at ten. He never mentioned he’d moved out.”
“He probably assumed you’d heard. There’s been a lot of gossip.”
“Where’s he staying?”
“Where do you think? His second home: The Old Trout.”
“Look, this is none of my business, Barbara, but—”
“That’s never stopped you before, Myrtle.”
“I was just wondering why you threw him out?”
“Why do you think? He’s been up to his old tricks again.”
Myrtle nodded. It was amazing how quickly she could transform from interrogator to Agony Aunt.
“I thought he’d grown out of it.” Barbara continued. “A few years ago, he regularly went off with some pretty, young thing, but he always came back. But then, I put my foot down and told him enough was enough. I told him straight that if he ever did it again, that would be the end for him and me.”
“I’m really sorry.” Myrtle took Barbara’s hand in hers. “You deserve better.”
“You’re right, I do. What did you want to see Harry about, anyway?”
“We wanted a quick word about Madge.”
“Of course. I should have guessed. I doubt he’ll have a good word to say about her. It was because of Madge that I discovered he was cheating again.”
“How did that happen exactly?”
Myrtle had Barbara eating out of her hand now.
“He thought he was being clever. He’d got himself a P.O. box at the post office. He’d been using it for any correspondence which he didn’t want me to see. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, a letter dropped onto the doormat. It was addressed to Harry, c/o the P.O. box number. That shouldn’t have happened. Harry had set it up, so that the mail remained at the post office until he collected it. It was two tickets for Bravo, a West End show. I’d been trying to get Harry to take me to see it for months, but he said it was too expensive. At first, I thought he’d bought the tickets as a surprise for me, but then I saw the names printed on them. One was his, but the other wasn’t mine. It was one of his young assistants.”
When Barbara took a deep breath to compose herself, Myrtle gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“So, I packed his bags, and threw them in the front garden.”
“Good for you, Barbara. How did he take it?”
“He was more annoyed than upset.”
“Annoyed with you? He had a cheek.”
“Not with me. With Madge, for letting the letter slip through. He tried grovelling his way back in, but I wasn’t having any of it.”
“You did the right thing, Barbara. Thanks for your help.”
After leaving Barbara, Myrtle and I made our way to The Old Trout.
“How do you do that?” I said.
“Do what?”
“Be good cop, bad cop all in one?”
“I didn’t realise that’s what I was doing.”
“One minute you had her scared to death. The next, you were her best friend.”
“What’s your approach, Jill?”
“I tend to jump in feet first. Speak first, and think later. I’m more bad cop, horrible cop.”
That brought a smile to Myrtle’s face. “Living out here in the countryside probably makes a difference. I’m not sure your approach would go down well here. Anyway, what did you make of what Barbara had to say?”
“I don’t imagine Harry Payne was very happy with Madge Hick after that letter slipped through.”
“What makes you think it slipped through?”
“Do you think it might have been deliberate?”
“I don’t know. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”
“Either way, he wouldn’t have been very happy about it, but it’s hardly a motive for murder.”
We caught up with Harry Payne in one of the rooms above The Old Trout.
“You didn’t mention you were living here, Harry,” Myrtle scolded him.
“Sorry. My head’s all over the place.”
He didn’t look like he’d had a shave for at least a couple of days. His hair was dishevelled, and his clothes looked like he’d slept in them. All in all, he looked a bit of a shambles.
“I’ve just spoken to Barbara,” Myrtle said.
“Is she still angry with me?”
“What do you think?”
“It’s all Madge’s fault.”
Myrtle engaged the death-ray glare again. “You don’t think you might have been partly to blame?”
“Well, yeah.” He back-pedalled. “Obviously, I shouldn’t have bought the tickets.”
“Or been seeing another woman?”
“Or that. But, if Madge had kept the letter at the post office like she was supposed to, none of this would have happened.”
Myrtle rolled her eyes. Harry Payne was three steps beyond stupid.
“Did you have it out with Madge?”
“Of course I did, but she claimed it was a mistake. Just like she did with the lottery. Very convenient mistake if you ask me. I pay over a hundred pounds a year for that post office box. I expected her to do her job right for that kind of money. Instead, she gets me thrown out of my house. I’m running out of clothes.”
If he was expecting sympathy from me or Myrtle, he was going to be very disappointed.
“Anyway, it’s finished between me and Rosie now. She’s gone and got herself a job at the abattoir. Do you think Barbara would take me back if I told her that?”
“I’m sure she would,” Myrtle said. “You should go around there after we’ve left.”
“Yeah, I think I will. I hate it here. This room smells like old frogs.”
After we’d left, I walked back to my car with Myrtle.
“Do you really think Barbara will take him back?”
“Of course not. She’ll probably kick his backside all around the village.”
“You crafty old thing. I like it.”
“Not so much of the ‘old’, thank you.” She grinned. “Let’s have a quick recap. So far we have Harry Payne who had a grudge against Madge because, in his eyes, she’d got him thrown out of the matrimonial home. And then there’s Justin Flower, who believed that Madge had reported him to Trading Standards. Florence Long seems an unlikely candidate, but does have access to the pharmacy. And we still have Brendan Breeze to interview. Any thoughts so far, Jill?”
“None of those we’ve interviewed strikes me as a murderer, but I’ve been wrong before. I’d really like to get inside Madge’s house, and take a look around. Do you think that’s going to be possible?”
“Through official channels? Probably not. But I might be able to arrange it—leave it to me; I’ll talk to oddjobs.”
Oddjobs? Before I could ask, she’d turned and walked away.