by Adele Abbott
The stupid necklace vibrated again. I couldn’t possibly live with this—it was way too distracting, so I slipped it off my neck.
When I turned back to speak to Harold, he was basking in the sun, which had just broken through the clouds. “This is more like it. I’ll go and see if Ida fancies a trip out somewhere. Bye, Jill.”
“Bye.”
“What’s that ugly thing you’re holding?” Winky said.
“It’s a necklace. It was a present from the dandelion fairies.”
“It looks like it just fell out of a lucky bag.”
“I think it’s pretty.”
“So why aren’t you wearing it?”
“It keeps vibrating.”
“It’s probably radioactive.”
“Don’t be stupid. I’ll have you know that this can grant me three wishes.”
“And I have a goldmine you can buy a part-share in if you’re interested.”
“It’s true. I’ll prove it to you.”
“Go on, then.”
“What should I wish for? I know: a year’s supply of custard creams.”
“Is that the best you can come up with? You can wish for anything in the world, and you choose custard creams? Pathetic.”
“It’s only the first wish. It’ll be like a test run. I can use the other two for something more meaningful.”
“Okay, go on.” He sighed. “It’s not like it’s going to work anyway.”
“You’ll see.” I gripped the necklace tightly, and said, “I wish for a year’s supply of custard creams.”
Nothing happened.
“Three wishes?” Winky laughed. “They saw you coming, didn’t they?”
“Maybe it takes a while for the wish to be processed.”
“Sure.”
I waited, but five minutes later, there was still no sign of my custard creams.
“Maybe I have to be wearing it for it to work?” I put the necklace back around my neck. “I wish for a year’s supply of custard creams.”
Nothing! Not so much as a crumb.
“Entertaining as this is, I have cards to print.” Winky disappeared back behind the screen.
How very disappointing. I’d totally believed Dandy when she’d said the necklace would grant me three wishes. It just goes to show you can’t trust anyone these days.
***
I’d heard from more than one source that there had been some friction between the Bells and their son, Adam. That didn’t necessarily mean he’d had anything to do with his parents’ disappearance, but it was worth further investigation, so I’d arranged to meet with his sister, Katie. Hopefully, by speaking to her alone, I’d get a better picture of the relationship between her sibling and their parents.
I’d barely got through the door of her apartment, which she shared with a single flatmate, before she was demanding answers.
“Do you have any news about Mum and Dad?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Not really.”
“Why didn’t you want Adam to be here today?”
“Could we have a seat, and I’ll explain everything.”
“Sorry, yes, come through to the lounge. Milly is out.”
“That’s your flatmate?”
“Yeah. Do you want anything to drink?”
“No, thanks. Look, Katie, this isn’t easy for me to ask, and I don’t want you to read too much into it, but what kind of relationship does Adam have with your parents?”
“Has someone been saying something about him?”
“Do you and he both get on well with them?”
“I guess I’ve always been closer to them than Adam.”
“Had there been any kind of falling out between him and your parents just before their disappearance?”
She looked as though she was going to say something but then changed her mind.
“It’s important you tell me everything, Katie.”
“Adam had had a few money problems. Several of his credit cards were maxed out.”
“Did he ask your parents for help?”
“Yeah. He seemed to think they should bail him out. They had done a few times before, but—” her words trailed away.
“Katie? Did they refuse to help him this time?”
“Yes. Dad said he had to learn to stand on his own two feet. There was a massive bust up over it.”
“When was this, exactly?”
“About a week before they disappeared.”
“Right.”
“Adam didn’t have anything to do with their disappearance if that’s what you’re thinking. He would never do anything to hurt them.”
“Whose idea was it to come and see me?”
“Err, both of us.”
“One of you must have floated the idea initially.”
“Adam did.”
“What reason did he give?”
“He wanted to find Mum and Dad obviously.”
“Okay.” I could see she was getting upset. “Thanks.”
Although I hadn’t said this to Katie, there was another reason why Adam might have wanted to hire me. Perhaps he’d hoped that my investigation would provide the necessary proof to declare his parents dead. If that happened, he and Katie would no doubt stand to inherit their estate.
Chapter 16
I fancied coffee and cake, so I magicked myself over to Cuppy C, but I was out of luck because the shop was full to bursting. What was going on? Were the twins running some kind of promotion? They hadn’t mentioned anything to me about it. Even if I’d been prepared to hang around long enough to get served, there would have been no chance of getting a seat, so I bailed and took a walk over to Aunt Lucy’s.
There was something very weird going on. Everywhere I looked, people were out on the streets in numbers, and there seemed to be a general carnival atmosphere about the place. Was today some kind of public holiday? If so, no one had bothered to send me the memo.
“Hi, Aunt Lucy, it’s only me.”
“We’re in the kitchen, Jill!”
We? Hopefully, she meant herself and Lester.
No such luck!
“Hello, Grandma.”
“If it isn’t my sleuthing granddaughter. I assume you’re here to give me your report on Belinda Cartwheel?”
“Err, no, I didn’t even realise you were here.” If I had, wild horses wouldn’t have dragged me there.
“What exactly am I paying you for?”
“You aren’t paying me. As a matter of fact, I’ve just received an invitation from Belinda to attend a function at her house. Hopefully, I’ll have something to report afterwards.”
“I sincerely hope so. At this rate, I’ll have retired from WOW before that woman gets the chance to oust me.”
“Would you like a drink, Jill?” Aunt Lucy said.
“Yes, please. A cup of tea would be nice. I called in at Cuppy C, but it’s packed in there. Is something happening in Candlefield today? All the streets are full of people, and they seem to be celebrating something.”
“I take it you haven’t heard the news?” Grandma said.
“What news? What’s happened?”
“Braxmore is dead.”
“How do you know?”
“The fact that his body was found in the marketplace was kind of a clue.”
“Here in Candlefield? When?”
“Last night.”
“Are they sure it’s him?”
“It’s ninety-nine percent certain. They’re doing a few final tests, apparently.”
“How did he die?”
“No one knows, and from the look of it, no one cares.” Aunt Lucy passed me the tea. “Would you like something with that? I made some cupcakes yesterday.”
“Do you really need to ask her?” Grandma rolled her eyes. “Have you ever known her to refuse cake?”
Ignoring the jibe, I took a moment to decide between the various flavours. In the end, I plumped for the lemon.
/> “You haven’t forgotten that it’s Barry’s competition on Wednesday, have you, Jill?” Aunt Lucy said.
“I’ve been trying to. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go in my place?”
“Obviously, I’d love to, but I’m going to bingo.”
“Bingo? I thought you said it was a whist drive.”
“Did I say bingo? I meant whist drive.”
Wow, she was such a terrible liar.
“It looks like it’s down to me, then. How’s his dancing coming along?”
“I don’t know. Barry won’t let me watch him practising. He insists it would be bad luck. I can tell you one thing, though, I won’t be sorry to hear the last of that music. I’m all discoed out.”
“I can’t hear anything up there at the moment.”
“Hmm, there’s a reason for that.” Aunt Lucy shot Grandma a look. “Isn’t there, Mother?”
“What did you do, Grandma?”
“I’m too old to have to listen to that awful noise, so I put that soft dog and his little friend to sleep for a while.”
“That’s a horrible thing to do.”
“You should be thanking me for stopping that terrible racket. Anyway, I have something I want to show you.”
“It’s not made from wax, is it?”
“No. It’s under here.” She began to unbutton her cardigan.
“What are you doing? You can’t strip off in here!”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” She pulled the cardigan open. “Look!”
“Is that—?” I stared in disbelief at the t-shirt. “That’s me on there, isn’t it?”
“They were selling them off cheaply on the market. Five for a tenner.”
“Why do I have a moustache in that picture?”
“I think it kind of suits you. That wasn’t the only thing they were selling. There was all kinds of stuff.”
“With my picture on it?”
“Yeah, complete with the moustache. I’ve got a mug back at the office.”
“Great.” I drank the last of my tea. “I’m going to have words about this.”
“Jill!” Grandma called after me. “If they have any of those tea towels left, get one for me, would you?”
It took me much longer than usual to get to the marketplace because there were now even more people on the streets. Once there, though, it didn’t take long to find the stall I was looking for.
“Excuse me!” I tried to catch the eye of the stallholder, but it wasn’t easy because he was doing a roaring trade.
“Yes, love. What can I get for you? If you’re after one of the t-shirts, you’d better look sharp. I only have a few left.”
“Do you recognise me?”
“I—err—I don’t think so. Are you the woman from the tripe shop?”
“No, I’m not! That’s me on the t-shirts, and the towels, and the mugs, and—”
“Well I never. So it is. I didn’t recognise you without the moustache. When did you shave it off?”
“I didn’t shave it off. I’ve never had one.”
“Oh?” He scratched his head. “Did you wear a false one when you posed for this photo?”
“No, I didn’t. Someone must have added the moustache. How come you’ve got all of these, anyway?”
“It’s not my normal line. I usually sell decorative boomerangs, but I was offered these at a fantastic price, so I figured why not? The boomerang business has been very slow lately, but it’s bound to bounce back eventually. In the meantime, this has proved to be a nice little earner.”
“I’m very pleased for you, but where did you get these from?”
“I don’t suppose it will do any harm to tell you now. It’s a one-off deal anyway. Do you know that shop near the rescue centre?”
“Candlefield Icons?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. The owner approached a few of us here on the market to see if we’d be interested. I took one look and snapped up the lot. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a towel? What about a mouse mat?”
“No, thanks.”
“Here.” He handed me a handkerchief. “You can have this for free.”
Before I could tell him where he could shove his hanky, he’d moved on to serve another customer.
How dare Songspinner put a moustache on my photograph?
It took me ages to fight my way through the crowds in the market, and I was still seething when I burst into Candlefield Icons where Vannie was pricing up a consignment of Magna Mondale mugs.
“Is he in?” I demanded.
“Hello again. Sylvester? No, I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
Vannie was sporting an ensemble similar to the one she’d worn on my previous visit. Today, though, the tutu was blue, the tights green, and the DMs white.
“I don’t suppose you know how I can get hold of him?”
“Sorry, no. Is this about the—” She ran a finger under her nose.
“Moustache? Yes, it most certainly is.”
“I told him you wouldn’t be very happy about it, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen. He was really angry. He kept saying something about—err—royalty, I think.”
“Royalties.”
“Yeah, that was it. He said he wasn’t paying royalties to anyone. He got me to move all of your stuff into the back.”
“I can understand him clearing it out of here, but why add the moustache?”
“He said no one would recognise you that way.”
“The man’s an imbecile. How did he add the moustaches?”
“I don’t know. I think he used magic, but he was by himself in the back when he did it. He sold it all as a job-lot to someone, but I don’t know who.”
“The next time you see Mr Songspinner, will you give him a message for me?”
“Sure.”
“Tell him not to buy any green bananas.”
***
I’d carried out some research into Frank Royston, the generous benefactor of the Washbridge Penguins. He was a multi-millionaire who had made his money from a chain of furniture stores. The head office, plus the chain’s first-ever store, were based in Washbridge. Although I’d found a number of articles about Royston’s business, there had been precious little coverage of the man himself. Apparently, Frank Royston did not court publicity. Undeterred, I figured Royston would probably be willing to spare me some of his time once he knew it was about his beloved Penguins.
I was wrong. Despite numerous calls, I couldn’t get past his many gatekeepers.
“But I’ve been hired by Victor Duyew, the Penguins’ manager, to try to find—”
“Yes, and as I’ve already told you, I’ve explained that to Mr Royston, but he still isn’t able to spare you any time. I’m very sorry.”
“But, if I could just—”
I was wasting my breath because the gatekeeper had already hung up.
I wasn’t defeated just yet, though. Maybe, if I could speak to some of Royston’s employees, that might throw more light on the top man. Getting to speak to someone in the busy head office might prove problematic, so I decided to start with the furniture store.
Over the years, I’d bought my fair share of furniture, so how come I’d never come across Royston Furniture Superstores? The answer soon became apparent—its location on one of the older, run-down retail parks was doing it no favours. At least half of the other units were vacant, and the car park was less than ten percent full.
The shop was deserted except for a solitary middle-aged man who scrambled to put on his jacket when I entered the store.
“Good morning, madam.”
“Afternoon.”
“Is it?” He glanced at his watch. “Goodness me.”
Under other circumstances, I might have assumed he’d been so busy that he’d lost track of time, but judging by his dishevelled hair, I was more inclined to think that he’d been asleep.
“I’m Richard.” He adjusted his tie. “Are you looking for anything in particular today? Sofas?
Beds? Carpets, maybe?”
“Actually, I’m not here to buy anything.”
“Oh.” I could practically hear his heart sinking.
“I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about the owner, Frank Royston.”
“You can ask, but you’d be wasting your time. I know nothing about him.”
“You’ve met him, though?”
“No.” He smiled. “I hardly move in the same circles as Royston.”
“But he must have visited the store?”
“No, he never has.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Fifteen years.”
“And he’s never once visited this store in all that time?”
“Nope.”
“Wow!” I glanced around. “Quiet day you’re having.”
“This is pretty much normal.”
“What about weekends? It must be busier then?”
“A little. Some weeks. But not always.”
“It must be boring.”
“It is, believe me. If I was younger, I’d look for another job, but—” He shrugged. “I reckon I’ve left it too late.”
“Thank you for your time, Richard.”
“My pleasure. Are you sure there’s nothing that takes your fancy?”
The more I learned about Frank Royston, the less sense it made. The man had spent a small fortune on a stadium for a junior football team, which he appeared to take little or no interest in.
If this store’s performance was indicative of the rest of his retail operation, he was in big trouble. But maybe this was an isolated case. After all, this store had been the first one he’d opened, so maybe he only kept it open because it had a special place in his heart. The newest store in the chain opened two years ago in Leeds. I felt sure that store would be doing much better than the one in Washbridge.
I was wrong.
The solitary salesman in the Leeds branch was called Stephen and was bald. His experience and story were practically the same as Richard’s. Once again, I was the only customer in the store.
“And you say it’s always as quiet as this?” I said.
“Yeah. Week in week out.”
“What do you put that down to? It can’t be the location.”
The Leeds store was on a newer, much busier retail park.