by Adele Abbott
“Mr Ivers, would you take a photo?”
“Of you and the cardboard cut-out?”
“Of me and Rick. Yes, please. Take a couple; just in case.”
After he’d taken the photograph, I ambled around the foyer, on the lookout for anyone famous. After about an hour, the noise levels outside increased dramatically.
“He’s here,” I said. “Rick’s here.” I pushed my way to the front to get a better view. He had a beautiful woman on his arm. What was she doing with him? Just then, I felt the strangest sensation. Something seemed to be pulling me back, but then whatever it was, suddenly released me, and I fell forward.
After I’d scrambled back to my feet, I could feel a draught on my bottom. I glanced around to find my dress had caught on something, and had ripped open at the back. Oh no! I was flashing my panties. Luckily, no one had noticed my mishap—yet!
I had to get out of there.
I cast the ‘shrink’ spell, and dashed back towards the entrance, dodging all the giant feet. Once outside, I ran around the side of the cinema and reversed the spell. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t go back inside with my backside hanging out of my dress—I’d be arrested.
Hold on! What was I thinking? I could use the ‘take it back’ spell. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? I could have stayed in the cinema with Rick. Still, if I was quick, I might be able to get back inside. I cast the spell, and sure enough, my dress was as good as new. Thank goodness! I charged back around to the front of the cinema. The doors were now closed.
“Ticket please, madam.” The doorman blocked my path.
“I’ve already been in. I came out just now.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“That’s because I was—err—never mind. Can’t you just take my word for it?”
“Where’s your ticket?”
“Inside. The man who I came with has it.”
“Sorry, madam. No ticket, no entry. Please move away from the doors.”
“But I want to see the film.”
“Not happening.”
I spent the next two and a half hours in a pub, a burger bar, and then wandering the streets of London. My hair was soaked, and my make-up had started to run. By the time I returned to the cinema, people were just starting to leave.
“Jill!” Mr Ivers said. “Where did you go? You were there one moment, and then—”
“I wasn’t feeling very well.”
“Oh dear. You missed a really good film.”
“I just want to go home.”
“You’ll never guess what happened—”
“What?”
“Rick Ryland sat in the seat right in front of me!”
No! No, it couldn’t be true. Life was so unfair.
***
“Morning, Jill,” Mrs V said.
“Morning.”
“How did it go last night?”
“Err—okay.” I really did not want to relive that nightmare. “Look, I’m kind of busy. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Winky was on my desk.
“So, if it isn’t the Hollywood starlet,” he said.
“Shut it, you. I’m not in the mood.”
“Really? I thought you’d be full of the joys of spring. Didn’t Rick Ryland ask you to run away with him to Hollywood?”
“If you want any food today, you’ll shut up about Rick Ryland right now.”
“How about the movie? Was that any good?”
“Yes. I enjoyed it.”
“Really? Because I didn’t think you actually got to see it.”
“Of course I did. Why do you think I went all the way down to London?”
“Because you had some insane notion that Rick Ryland would fall madly in love with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you think I’m a child?”
“So you enjoyed the movie, then?”
“Yes, why do you keep asking me that?”
“Maybe because of this—” He pointed to the computer screen.
“What is it? I don’t have time for your nonsense. I’m busy.”
“I think you’ll want to see this.”
“Hurry up then.” I sighed.
He clicked on the mouse and a video started to play. It looked as though it had been recorded on a mobile phone because the quality wasn’t great. It appeared to have been taken by someone standing in the crowd at the premiere. It was focussed on the red carpet where Rick Ryland was waving to the crowd as he entered the cinema. He had that horrible woman, whoever she was, on his arm.
“Why are you showing me this? I was there, remember?”
“Keep watching,” Winky said. “That’s not the part I wanted you to see.”
“I am rather busy.”
Nothing much happened on screen for a few minutes, but then a familiar figure appeared from the right. No wonder it was familiar—it was me! I was at the cinema doors, trying to persuade the doorman to let me back in.
“So, you enjoyed the movie then?”
“Shut up. I’ve got work to do. Go and play with your helicopter.”
I couldn’t actually focus on work, but I kept shuffling papers around my desk, so Winky wouldn’t keep interrupting me.
The phone rang; it was Colonel Briggs.
“Morning, Jill. How are you this beautiful morning?”
“Very well, Colonel, thanks,” I lied.
“That’s good. Look, I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to check whether you’d made any progress at all with Sir Cuthbert’s case?”
“Nothing much to report, I’m afraid, but I’m still on it. I promise I’ll call you the moment I have anything.”
“Okay, Jill, I know you’ll do your best. Thanks a lot. Bye.”
“Bye, Colonel.”
I felt bad that I had nothing more to tell him. I really should have been working on the case instead of moping around, feeling sorry for myself. I dug out the file, and started going back through my interviews. I also took another look at the photo which Sir Cuthbert had given me of the missing vase.
That’s when I spotted it.
Chapter 11
“Barry isn’t very happy,” Pearl said.
“What’s wrong with him now?” Why couldn’t I have at least one pet who didn’t cause me grief all the time?
“You’d better go and talk to him.” Amber pointed up the stairs.
Barry had his head resting on his front paws; he looked very sorry for himself.
“What’s wrong, Barry?”
“You won’t let me have a pet.”
“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea for a dog to have a hamster as a pet.”
“I know lots of dogs who have them.”
“Name me one.”
“There’s Peter, and Stewart, and Agnes. Then there’s Ivan. Even Chief’s got one—”
“Chief? You mean Drake’s dog?”
“Yeah. He told me he has one.”
“Are you sure? You’re not just making this up?”
“No. You can ask Drake; he’ll tell you.”
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Let’s go to the pet shop and speak to the owner to see if he thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Okay. Can we go now? Let’s go now. Can we, please? I want to go now.”
“Yes, okay, okay.”
Sheesh! My life wasn’t my own.
Rupert’s Pets was just off the market square. As we got closer to the shop, I struggled to keep hold of Barry as he became more and more excited. Hopefully, once we’d spoken to the owner, and he’d confirmed that it wasn’t a good idea, Barry would forget the whole thing.
The sign on the door read: ‘Dogs welcome’, so I took Barry inside, trying desperately to keep him in check.
The man behind the counter beamed at us. “Hello, you two, and welcome to Rupert’s Pets!”
“Are you Rupert?”
“Rupert’s on holiday. I’m Eddie. How can I help you?”
“I realise this is a silly question,�
�� I said in a low voice, trying not to let Barry hear. “But would you please confirm that it isn’t a good idea for a dog to have a pet hamster.”
“There’s absolutely no reason why a dog shouldn’t have a hamster as a pet. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that dogs make excellent owners.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course. It will keep your dog—what’s his name?”
“Barry.”
“It will keep Barry amused for hours, and I’m sure he’ll make a very good owner. What do you say, boy? Would you like a hamster?”
“Yes, please. I’d love a hamster. Can I have a hamster?” Barry jumped up and down, and pirouetted with excitement. “I want a hamster.”
So much for that plan.
It came to seventy-five pounds in total. The hamster had cost only five pounds, but then there was the cage, and the extension to the cage, and the food, and the toys—including a mirror. I’d always thought it was only budgies and parrots that had mirrors, but it turned out that hamsters were partial to them too. They’re particularly vain according to Eddie.
Seventy-five pounds! Like I didn’t already have enough money problems!
Back at the flat, Barry couldn’t have been any happier. He sat watching his new little friend running round and round on his wheel.
“Are you happy now, Barry?”
“Yes, thank you. I love Hammy.”
“Is that what you’re going to call him? Hammy the hamster?”
“He already had his name: Hamlet.”
“Hamlet the hamster? Right. Well, I’ll leave you and Hammy to get to know one another.”
“Say goodbye to Jill, Hammy,” Barry said.
“Goodbye, Jill.” The hamster jumped off his wheel.
“You can talk?”
“Of course I can. Oh, and by the way, I prefer Hamlet.”
“Oh—okay. Bye then, Hamlet.”
“Goodbye, Jill.”
So now I had not just two, but three crazy animals: Winky, the psycho cat, Barry, the big soft dog, and now Hamlet, the hamster. Surely, my life couldn’t get any crazier.
***
I ran into Luther Stone on my way back to the flat.
“Busy day, Jill?”
“So-so. How about you?”
“Oh, you know. The usual: profit and loss, balance sheets, that sort of thing. Not very exciting. Not like your job. Being a private investigator must be really interesting.”
“Yeah, most of the time.”
“By the way, do you remember I mentioned the new brochure I’m having done?”
“Brochure?” It was engraved on my heart. “Err? Oh, yes. I remember now.”
“I wondered if maybe you had a few minutes now? I thought I could take a photo and do a quick interview. Only if you have the time, of course.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” Maybe I’d written Luther off too quickly. He seemed rather keen to get me over to his place. Primarily to do the brochure, obviously. But who knew where it might lead? Steady on, Jill, don’t get carried away. Remember what happened last time.
I followed him to his flat. He’d stripped all the carpets out, and replaced them with wooden flooring. It looked great, but I could barely keep my feet. I had to hold onto the furniture to prevent myself from slipping.
“Are you alright, Jill?”
“Fine, yeah.”
I’d never seen so much chrome. I daren’t touch anything for fear of leaving fingerprints. “You have a lot of chrome.”
“That’s my brother. He works at Chrome City. You must have seen it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“It’s just off the high street. Everything they sell has a chrome finish. He did me a good deal, so I didn’t like to say no. It’s terrible to keep clean though. Come this way. I’ve set us up in here.”
We went through to what I assumed was the spare bedroom. It contained only a single armchair.
“Would you like to take a seat, and I’ll take a quick snap? All very informal; nothing to worry about.”
“Should I do something with my hair, first?”
“It looks fine to me.”
“Maybe I ought to fix my make-up?”
“No, honestly you look absolutely fine.”
“Okay.” I sat in the armchair, and tried to look as alluring as possible.
“Are you feeling okay?” He looked concerned. “You look in pain.”
So much for alluring.
“I’m fine.”
“Let’s try again.”
“Okay.” I went for sultry this time.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Would you like a glass of water?”
“Yes. Really, I’m fine.”
“Just look at the camera, relax and be as natural as you can.”
Natural? How was I supposed to do that? I stared into the camera lens, and tried to smile.
“Maybe don’t try so hard, Jill?”
“Okay, sorry.” I tried again.
“That’s better. Great. Now, if we could do a short interview. Just one or two quotes which I can place next to your photo in the brochure.”
“Of course, yes.”
“I realise that I haven’t been your accountant for very long, but could you tell me what you think about the service you’ve received so far?”
“Your service has been absolutely excellent, Luther. It’s been beyond words. I’ve just loved every second of it.”
“I was thinking more about the accuracy of the reporting, and the timeliness?”
“Right, yes, of course. The accuracy and the timeliness has been fantastic, and you have been nothing less than wonderful, Luther.”
“Right, well I think I have everything I need there. Thank you for that, Jill.”
“Is that it? Because there are other complimentary things I could say.”
“No, really. I think I have all the quotes I need. I’m sorry to have delayed you.”
No dinner? No drinks?
“Bye, Jill. Thanks again.”
“Bye, Luther.”
I was back in the corridor when a voice came from behind me.
“So!” said Betty. “That’s your game is it? You were trying to put me off Luther, so you could keep him for yourself.”
“No, Betty. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“I saw you! Don’t lie to me. I thought you were my friend, Jill. I thought I could trust you.”
“But, Betty, I was only having photos taken—”
“Photos? What kind of photos? Don’t tell me—I can guess. How could you?”
With that, she stormed off.
***
Grandma had summoned me to Ever A Wool Moment. Kathy was behind the counter when I walked through the door.
“Where is she?”
“In campaign HQ at the back. Good luck.”
“Is she in a good mood?”
Kathy laughed. “As always.”
“Grandma, you wanted to see—”
“Sit down, Jill.”
“I am quite busy at the—”
“Be quiet, girl. Whatever you’re doing obviously isn’t as important as this. I thought we should have a strategy meeting for my election campaign.”
What was it with strategy meetings all of a sudden?
“I’m not sure I’m the best person for this job.”
“I’ve told you—it’s already decided. You will head my campaign. There’s only one other candidate, and that’s Mr Boyle. Do you know him?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Lance.”
“Lance Boyle?”
“That’s right.”
Somehow, I managed not to laugh. This was obviously a serious matter.
“The polls show we’re neck and neck at the moment,” Grandma said. “So we have to find something which will give us an advantage.”
“Perhaps we could talk through your policies, and then I could—”
“No, no, none of that nonsense. That won’t do any good
. I need you to dig up the dirt on Lance.”
“Hold on. Are you talking about running a dirty campaign? A smear campaign?”
“Of course.”
“But that’s not ethical.”
“Jill, dear, you have a lot to learn about politics. No one ever won an election by being ethical.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not prepared to do anything underhand.”
“I think you’ll find you are. Why do you think I asked you to do this? Because of your experience spearheading an election campaign?” She laughed. “Of course not, but who better to dig the dirt on someone than a private investigator?”
So that’s why she’d asked me. I should have known. “But that’s not what I do in my job. I try to help people.”
“Yeah, yeah. Very interesting I’m sure. Now listen—I want you to find out all you can about Lance Boyle. If he has any dark secrets, I want you to uncover them, and then we can ‘leak’ them to the press.”
“What if he doesn’t have any?”
“Then, we’ll make some up.”
“That’s despicable.”
“I know. Brilliant, isn’t it?”
It was pointless arguing with Grandma, so I let her think I’d go along with her plan. But there was no way I was going to run a smear campaign. Unlike her, I had morals. What? Of course I do—at least when it suits me. My best bet was to contact my counterpart, Lance Boyle’s campaign manager. Surely we could reach a gentlemen’s agreement that we’d both run a clean campaign. That would ensure a fair election, and let the best candidate win.
***
Terry Brown certainly didn’t act like a guilty man. When I’d contacted him to ask if I could talk to him again, he’d raised no objection, and when I arrived at the house he was most welcoming.
“Come in. Have a seat.”
“I need to ask you about one of the items in your collection.”
“Which one?”
“The plate with the serpent on it.”
“Beautiful isn’t it? It’s one of my recent acquisitions; I only bought it a couple of weeks ago.”
“It’s lovely.” I took out the photograph which Sir Cuthbert had given me. “Would you mind taking a look at this? Do you recognise anything?”