All Was Revealed

by Adele Abbott

***

  Mrs V was at her desk; sitting next to her, with his hands covered in wool, was none other than Armi.

  “Hi, Armi. You’re becoming a regular visitor.”

  He could barely meet my gaze. “Hello, Jill.”

  “I see Mrs V has got you helping with the wool again.”

  “Annabel says I have the hands for it.” He laughed nervously.

  It looked as though reversing the spell had done the trick. Armi was back to his old self.

  “By the way, Jill,” he said. “I want to apologise for anything I may have said or done over the last forty-eight hours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know what came over me, but I haven’t been myself for a couple of days. I became rather loud and obnoxious. I know I upset Annabel a little.”

  “Yes, but you’re forgiven now.” Mrs V patted his shoulder.

  “I’ve upset Gordon too. He’s barely talking to me.”

  “I shouldn’t worry about that.” I grinned. “It’s probably no bad thing to stand up to Gordon every now and again. He can be awfully overbearing.”

  “You may be right, but it’s not something I’m used to doing. I’ve always admired how you stand up to him. Anyway, if I did say anything inappropriate, I apologise. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Are you taking any meds, Armi?”

  “Just something for my sinuses.”

  “That might be it. Look at what happened to me the other day. I came over very peculiar after I’d taken those hay fever meds. I even called you a goblin.”

  “I’m never likely to forget that. Maybe I should talk to the pharmacist about changing brands.”

  Winky was in the windowsill. His tiny flags had been discarded, and in their place, he was holding a remote control. Moments later, a small helicopter came through the window. He grabbed it, tore off the note and read it. Then he scribbled a reply, which he attached before sending the chopper on its way. It was just like old times.

  Winky’s last remote control helicopter had crashed and burned.

  “Where did you get the new helicopter from?”

  “I ordered it online. It came this morning.”

  “With my credit card, I assume?”

  “Of course.”

  “I hope it didn’t cost too much.”

  “What price love?”

  “Why didn’t you get Bonnie and Clive to pay?”

  “Who?”

  “Bella’s owners—err—I mean the people Bella lives with.”

  “They’re humans. They wouldn’t understand.”

  “So muggins here has to foot the bill again?”

  “What are you complaining about? I hear you have a paying case for a change.”

  “I do actually. And it involves a well-known TV celebrity.”

  “Starr Fish?” He laughed. “Do me a favour. She was Z-list at best. Unlike me.”

  “You? Since when are you a celebrity?”

  “A-list regular, that’s me.”

  “I’ve never seen you in the gossip pages.”

  “That’s because you don’t read the feline mags: Whiskers, Fur and Claws. I’m always in one of them. Bella too.”

  “If you’re such a big time celebrity, how come you don’t pay your way?”

  “That’s what you are for.”

  Nice to know.

  Twenty minutes later, Winky had said his goodbyes, via helicopter, to Bella, and he was curled up asleep on the sofa.

  The room suddenly went a little chilly. A moment later, Colonel Briggs’ ghost appeared. I was surprised to see he was by himself. Something was obviously amiss.

  “Colonel, are you okay?”

  “Not really, Jill.”

  “Whatever’s the matter? Is it Priscilla?”

  “Sort of, yes.”

  “She’s not ill, is she?”

  “She’s a ghost, Jill. She’s dead—she can’t get much more ill than that.”

  “Of course, sorry. I keep forgetting about that. What is it, then?”

  “You know we moved back to the house?”

  “Yes. How are things working out up there?”

  “Everything was fine. Until Matthew turned up.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “A ghost. Matthew Most.”

  Matthew Most the ghost? “Where did he come from?”

  “That’s a jolly good question. I’d always understood that ghosts could only haunt buildings where they’d lived during their lifetime, or a building occupied by a relative or close friend. It seems this guy moves in anywhere that takes his fancy. He first turned up three or four days ago. Since then, he’s made a real nuisance of himself. What’s worse, he’s obviously taken with Cilla; he’s been flirting outrageously with her.”

  “How does Priscilla feel about that?”

  “I have to be honest, Jill. I’m a little disappointed in her. I thought we had a good thing going, but Matthew seems to have turned her head. She denies it, but I’ve seen the look in her eye when he’s around.”

  “Are you both still wandering around in the nude?”

  “Not since he showed up. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  “I thought you two had really hit it off.”

  “Me too. The reason I popped in to see you is because I seem to recall you have a friend who is a Ghost Hunter?”

  “Yes. Mad Lane. She helped me with Battery.”

  “That’s what I thought. I wondered if she might be able to do a little sniffing around to see if she could find out anything about Mr Matthew Most. There’s something about him that feels a little shady. Could you ask your friend to see if she can turn up anything?”

  “No problem. I’ll have a word with her.”

  “Thanks, Jill. You’re a good friend.”

  ***

  It was time to talk to Harlan the elf. I’d got his address from Billy Somemates. Harlan lived very close to Candlefield swimming baths—somewhere I hadn’t yet got around to visiting. I hadn’t told Billy of my suspicions because I thought it only fair to talk to Harlan first.

  When I knocked on the tiny door, a little elf in a very pleasing green hat, popped his head out. “Hello, can I help you?” he squeaked.

  “Are you Harlan?”

  “Yes, who are you? If you’re selling, you’re wasting your time. I never buy at the door.”

  “I’m not selling anything.”

  “Are you sure? That’s what the man who sold me the chimney brush said.”

  “Your house doesn’t have a chimney.”

  “I know. He was very persuasive.”

  “I promise I’m not here to sell you anything. My name is Jill Gooder. I’ve been talking to the people at FairyAid, and also to Billy Somemates.”

  “I see.”

  “Billy told me you work part-time for him.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Look, I’ll get straight to the point. I understand that you’re responsible for buying the thimbles from The Finger.”

  His face fell, and I knew I’d struck a chord. “Yes I am. What of it?”

  “I was told by Tuppence Farthing, the owner of The Finger, that several house-themed thimbles have been stolen from her shop over the past few weeks. And yet, Billy told me that he gives you the money to buy them.”

  “Oh dear. You’re perfectly right. I’ve been taking them.”

  “But why would you do that?”

  “I didn’t keep the money for myself. I thought if I didn’t have to pay for the thimbles that I’d be able to donate it back to FairyAid, and they’d be able to build even more houses.”

  “Are you telling me that you’ve been stealing the thimbles, and then donating the money, which should have been used to buy them, to FairyAid?”

  “That’s right. I shouldn’t have done that, should I?”

  “Definitely not. Look, I’m sorry, but I have no choice but to tell Tuppence Farthing what’s been going on. It might help if you were to come with me. Would you be w
illing to do that?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “I suppose I’d better.”

  We walked together to The Finger. Tuppence Farthing was behind the counter; she greeted me with a warm smile.

  “Hi, Jill.”

  “There’s someone here who’d like a few words with you, Tuppence.”

  Only then did she notice Harlan who barely came up to my calf.

  “This is Harlan.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Harlan.”

  He jumped up onto the counter, so they were face to face. “I—err—I have a confession to make. I was tasked with buying thimbles for Billy Somemates who makes the houses for the starlight fairies. But, instead of buying them I sneaked into your shop, and took them without paying.”

  Tuppence looked shocked. “Why would you do that?”

  “I realise it’s no excuse, but I wanted as many houses as possible for the fairies, so I gave the money back to FairyAid. I’m very sorry, and I’ll understand if you want to call the police. I’ll be happy to make a full confession.”

  “There’s no need to involve the police. I just wish you’d spoken to me. I had no idea that’s what the thimbles were being used for. How about from now on, I sell you the thimbles at cost price? When you need the next batch, come and see me, and I’ll make sure you get the best deal. You’ll get twice as many as you would if you were buying them at full price. How does that sound?”

  “Thank you. That’s so very generous,” Harlan said. “And of course, I’ll pay you back for those that I’ve already taken.”

  “No need. Call those my donation to FairyAid.”

  “Thank you so much.” Harlan was obviously touched by Tuppence’s kindness.

  “And thank you for getting to the bottom of this, Jill.” Tuppence said. “It never occurred to me that it would be something like this.”

  “My pleasure. I’m just pleased this means that the fairies will get more houses.”

  Chapter 13

  The next person on my list to interview, in connection with the Starr Fish case, was her new boyfriend—a guy who went by the name of Scott Venus. Call it intuition if you like, but something told me that wasn’t his real name. Like Starr Fish, he’d probably decided that his real name wasn’t showbiz enough, so he’d changed it to something completely and utterly ludicrous.

  Scott lived in what was known locally as the Glass Tower. It was the largest of three apartment blocks built three years ago in the centre of Washbridge. They were ultra-expensive—way above my pay grade. It was my first time inside the building; it was gorgeous. Why didn’t I live somewhere like that? It probably had something to do with my lack of work. And money. Maybe I should have considered going on a reality TV show. If Kathy could do it, surely I could. I quite liked the idea of having people chase after me for autographs. Maybe I could charge for those too. Jack and I would be on the front page of all those celebrity magazines.

  What? Who are you calling Walter?

  Scott Venus lived in apartment two-one-seven.

  “Who are you?” He didn’t look much like a Scott. More a Fred or an Arthur.

  “My name’s Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator.”

  “What do you want?”

  Nice to know his Z-list celebrity status hadn’t affected his good manners.

  “I’d like a few words about Starr Fish.”

  “What about her?”

  “Do you think we could go inside rather than talk out here where everyone can hear us.”

  “I suppose so.” He huffed.

  The furnishings were high quality, and matched the building itself, but the place was a dump. There was ‘stuff’ everywhere. What was it with men? Did any of them have the ‘tidy’ gene?

  “What do you want to know?” He took a bite of what looked like yesterday’s pizza. “Want some?” He offered me the box.

  “No, thanks.” I’m good for salmonella.

  “I believe you and Starr were an item?”

  “Not really.” A small piece of pizza fell onto the carpet. At least the mice wouldn’t go hungry.

  “I thought you lived together?”

  “Yeah, but we had separate rooms.”

  “So you weren’t in a relationship with Starr?”

  “Nah.” He took a slug from a huge bottle of flat Coke. “That was just for publicity.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Our manager said the tabloids would pay more attention to a reality TV ‘couple’. He reckoned they’d be falling over themselves to run stories on us.”

  “How did that work out?”

  “It didn’t. They only cared about Starr. When we were together they were only ever interested in her. I might as well have been invisible.”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  “How do you think? I wasn’t happy about it. I was trying to raise my profile, so I could get more money for doing personal appearances, and to help sell more copies of my book.”

  “What book?”

  “My autobiography, of course.”

  “Of course. Have you already written it?”

  “I’m not writing it. Some toast-writer is doing that.”

  “Ghost.”

  “What?

  “It’s a ghost-writer not a toast-writer.”

  “Oh? That makes more sense. I never did get the whole toast thing.”

  Wow! Just wow!

  “Did you and Starr argue a lot?”

  “Not all that much, but then I didn’t really see much of her. She was always going down to London to do an interview or to have her photograph taken. I think she was planning to move down there.”

  “Did you go out as a couple?”

  “We went to parties and premieres, and stuff like that together, but it was only for the cameras; we didn’t have anything in common.”

  “It must have made you angry that she was getting all the attention?”

  “Of course it did.” He hesitated between mouthfuls of pizza. “Hang on, though. That doesn’t mean I wanted to hurt her if that’s what you’re thinking. I could never do something like that. My mum would kill me.”

  I came away with the impression that Scott was obviously jealous and frustrated that Starr had attracted much more media attention than he’d managed. Even so, I couldn’t convince myself that he had it in him to kill her. Underneath his celebrity ‘front’, Scott Venus was still a ‘mummy’s boy’.

  Back in the office, I searched online for images of the ‘celebrity’ couple. The majority of photos focussed more on Starr than on Scott. It was quite obvious that there was no magic or sparkle between them; they looked like two strangers standing next to one another. But it was something else which caught my eye. There was another familiar face, in the background in several of the photos. It was Starr’s ex-boyfriend, Johnny Badger. When I’d spoken to him he’d told me that he’d moved on, and was no longer interested in Starr, but these photos appeared to tell a different story.

  ***

  Mrs V came through to my office.

  “What’s he up to now?” She gestured to Winky who had just finished sending semaphore messages to Bella.

  “He’s looking out of the window.”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  Winky turned around, and gave her a one-eyed glare.

  “See the way he looks at me? It’s like he hates me.”

  “She’s got that much right,” Winky said under his breath.

  “I’m sure that’s not true. It’s that eye of his which makes him look mean.”

  Mrs V looked unconvinced—with good reason.

  “Was there something you wanted, Mrs V?”

  “Oh yes. I almost forgot. That friend of yours is out front. The librarian.”

  “Mad? Send her in, would you?”

  “It’s none of my business.” Mrs V lowered her voice to a whisper. “But I think she’s let herself go a little. Maybe you should have a word?”

  “How do you mean, ‘let herself go’?” />
  “You’ll see.”

  Mrs V showed Mad in, and then left us alone.

  “Hey, Jill.” Mad seemed bright enough.

  “Grab a seat. You’ve got Mrs V a little worried.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “She thinks you’re letting yourself go.”

  “That’s nice.” Mad grinned. “It must be the hair.”

  Normally when Mad was at work, she wore her hair in a bun, but today she’d let it down.

  “It does look a little wild.”

  “I know. That bun drives me crazy. It makes my head itch like I’ve got lice. Come to think of it, now that Nails has moved in with Mum, I might have.”

  “Don’t.” I suddenly felt the urge to scratch my head.

  “Tell Mrs V she doesn’t have to worry about me. It’ll be in a bun again when I go back to work after my lunch hour and a half.”

  “You get an hour and a half?”

  “Officially no, but no one seems to notice.”

  “How’s the ghost hunting going?”

  “It’s a bit quiet at the moment. I need some excitement. Maybe we should have another night out?”

  “No chance. I haven’t recovered from the last one yet. But I do have something which might ease the boredom for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you remember that friend of mine, the colonel?”

  “Of course I do. Didn’t he tip you off about that ugly thug who wanted to kill you? What was his name again? Carburettor?”

  “Battery. Yeah, that was the colonel. He came to see me the other day because he has a bit of a problem. He’s recently moved back into his old house; the one he lived in before he died. He’s living there with his new girlfriend, Priscilla. It seems that everything was going okay until another ghost turned up out of the blue. According to the colonel, this new ghost has no connection to the house. He just seems to be squatting there. What’s even worse is that he’s coming on to Priscilla. As you might imagine, the colonel is none too happy about any of this.”

  “This squatter—are you saying he didn’t live in that house when he was alive? And has no relatives there?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And he wasn’t invited by the colonel?”

  “Definitely not.”