by Adele Abbott
“I shouldn’t be saying this, but it’s the prices. Just look at this sofa for example.”
“Wow, you weren’t joking.” The sofa in question was nothing special. “No one is going to pay that kind of money for that.”
“Tell me about it. Even when we do get customers through the door, they take one look at the prices, and leave.”
“I assume you’ve given feedback to your head office.”
“I used to, but I soon realised they didn’t want to know. The prices never changed. It’s almost like they don’t want to sell anything.”
“What about the man himself? Frank Royston? What’s his reaction when he visits the store?”
“Royston, come here?” Stephen snorted with laughter. “He’s never set foot through that door all the time I’ve worked here.”
“Which is how long?”
“Almost eight years.”
“Do you ever talk to the managers at any of the other stores?”
“Yeah, most weeks.”
“Do you get the impression that any of their stores are faring better? Could it just be that this is still a relatively new store?”
“It’s not that. All the other managers tell exactly the same story: Anaemic sales due to overpricing.”
“Do you recall anyone saying that Royston had visited their store?”
“No. If he has, then no one has ever mentioned it to me.”
Chapter 17
I gave Mad a call.
“Where are you, Mad?”
“In my apartment. I have to stay in because the carpet man is coming.”
“Is he like some kind of superhero?”
“I wish. He’s going to fit a new bedroom carpet. I thought you might have called me back about those photos I sent over to you.”
“Sorry, I’ve been crazy busy, but that’s why I’m calling now. Can I pop over?”
“Sure, I could do with the company.”
“Okay, see you in ten.”
When I arrived at Mad’s apartment block, there was a van parked close to the main entrance. The sign on the side of it read Hush Carpets. Was someone winding me up? That was practically the same name as the one I’d made up for Mrs V’s benefit.
“Hey, Jill, you spend more time here than I do.”
“Hi, Charlie. I’m just on my way to see Mad.”
“Are you still doing that private investigator stuff?”
“For my sins, yeah.”
“A friend of mine has been having a few problems recently, so I mentioned your name to him, and I told him that he should think about contacting you.”
“What kind of problems?”
“He runs his own business here in Washbridge: singing telegrams, that kind of thing. He suspects that one of his competitors has been trying to sabotage him.”
“Okay, well, if he does need my help, you know where I am.”
“Thanks.”
“The carpet man is here,” Mad said, as she let me in. “He arrived a few minutes ago.”
“Hi!” The ginger-haired man nodded at me.
“Hush Carpets? That’s kind of a strange name, isn’t it?”
“It’s named after me. I’m Tony Hush.”
“I’d keep quiet about that if I were you.” I laughed.
“Sorry?”
“Take no notice of her,” Mad said. “She has a weird sense of humour.”
“Okay, anyway, I’d best get started.” He headed towards the bedroom.
“Mad, I’m sorry I haven’t been back to you before now, but things have been a little crazy.”
“No problem. Did the photos I sent across help?”
“They certainly did. Let’s take a seat at the table, and I’ll show you.” I took out my phone. “I think I know where at least some of these missing persons are. Him, him, her, him and her were all in a movie called The House On Gravestone Hill.”
“Movie? I don’t understand.”
“There’s a new TV channel that started up recently. I wouldn’t have known anything about it if it hadn’t been for Jack. He’s pretty much obsessed with it.”
“And this film, Gravestone Whatever, was on this new channel?”
“That’s right. The TV station is called Spooky TV. The only thing they show is horror movies. Jack talked me into watching one on Friday night. It was terrible, and I was on the point of going to bed when I spotted a face I recognised. It was one of the ghosts in the photos you’d shown me. That’s when I called you. There were five of them in that single movie.”
“What does that mean? That they’ve all quit GT to seek fame and fortune in the movie business?”
“That’s one possibility, I suppose, but I doubt it. I don’t imagine Spooky TV has much of a budget to make the movies they’re producing, so it’s much more likely that they’ve come up with a way to do things on the cheap. Instead of paying actors, I believe they’re snatching people off the streets of GT, and forcing them to take part in their terrible movies.”
“Human trafficking? Is that what you’re suggesting, Jill?”
“Strictly speaking, I suppose it’s ghost trafficking, but yes, that’s what it amounts to.”
“The lowlife slime balls!” Mad spat the words.
“Pretty much.”
“I need to find out who’s behind this, rescue the ghosts they’re holding, and then put the lowlifes behind bars.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought, and I’ve come up with an idea if you’re interested.”
“Of course. Fire away.”
After I’d explained what I had in mind, Mad declared herself one-hundred percent behind my plan, and she was able to provide me with the equipment I needed to put phase one into action.
***
I’d arranged to meet the colonel in Cakey C.
Yvonne was busy behind the counter, and she appeared to be much more confident now with the coffee machine.
“Hi, Jill, what can I get for you?”
“I’ll pay for these,” the colonel insisted.
“Thanks, I’ll have a latte, please.”
“And something to eat?”
“No, thanks. Just the drink will be fine. Why don’t you grab a table, Colonel, and I’ll bring the drinks over?”
“Will do. I’ll be over there by the window.”
“Did you tell Jack why I hadn’t been in touch?” Yvonne handed me the drinks.
“I did, yes. He was rather surprised to hear you were working in a tea room.”
“I’m rather surprised myself, but now that I’ve mastered that machine, I’m actually quite enjoying it. It’s nice to get out and meet more people. I’ll still be able to chat to Jack in the evenings, provided I can stay awake long enough because after a shift here, I’m usually dead on my feet. Dead on my feet, get it?” She laughed.
I could see now where her son had got his terrible sense of humour from.
“Yeah, that’s—err—anyway, I’ll let Jack know what’s happening.”
“I thought Priscilla might have joined us.” I handed the colonel his drink.
“It’s her day for basket weaving.”
“I didn’t realise she was into that.”
“Oh yes. To the point of obsession.” He grinned. “We can barely move in our house for baskets. Still, she really enjoys it and that’s all that matters. I’m quite intrigued to know why you wanted to see me. You said something about movies?”
“It’s related to the movie business, but more importantly, it involves ghost trafficking.”
“A despicable practice. I hoped we’d seen the last of that.”
“Unfortunately not.”
I told the colonel about Spooky TV and my suspicions that ghosts were being snatched from GT, and made to work in low-budget, straight-to-streaming horror movies.
“I saw at least five ghosts on Mad’s missing persons list in a single movie.”
“That’s terrible. What can I do to help?”
“I need to find out where t
he people behind this are operating from. To find out where they are making these movies.”
“It’s in the human world, I assume?”
“I’m pretty sure it is. The problem is there’s no easy way to track them down—that’s why I need your help.” I took out the small components that Mad had given to me.
“What are those?” the colonel studied them carefully.
“Tracking devices. It isn’t easy for me to ask this, but essentially, I need volunteers who are prepared to put themselves in harm’s way. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of asking anyone to do that, but I can’t think of any other way to find the missing persons.”
“What exactly do you need them to do?”
“I’m hoping that some of the people on your books will be prepared to wear these devices, and then deliberately put themselves in a position where there’s a strong likelihood that they may be snatched by the traffickers. We know the area where they generally operate, and that they usually snatch their victims in the early hours of the morning, so there’s a good chance it could work.”
“That’s a lot to ask.”
“I know, and I wish there was another way.”
“Don’t worry. Once my people have heard what’s happening, I’m sure you’ll get a few volunteers.”
“There is of course no guarantee that the traffickers will take the bait, but we have to give it a try.”
“Let me have those.” He took the tracking devices. “As soon as I get back to the office, I’ll put the word out, and ask for volunteers. I’ll let you know how I get on.”
***
I’d no sooner magicked myself back to the human world than I received a call from Myrtle Turtle.
“Jill, can you talk, or have I caught you at a bad time?”
“It’s okay. Go ahead.”
“Do you remember when you were over here recently that I mentioned the problem with the church bells?”
“I do, yes. Didn’t you say they needed replacing?”
“That’s right, but we’ve had an expert take a look at them, and he reckons they can be restored for a fraction of the price of new ones.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed, and it’s inspired us to mount a big push to raise the necessary funds. Which brings me onto the reason for my call.”
“I’m a bit short at the moment, but I suppose I could let you have a few quid.”
“I’m not after a donation.”
“Oh?”
“We’re having a fundraiser this Saturday, and I wondered if you and your husband might like to come over. All of your friends and relatives are welcome too. Everyone in the village is phoning around, trying to drum up interest, so I thought I should do my bit.”
“Yes, we should be able to make it. And, I’m sure my sister and her family would be up for it too.”
“Fantastic, I’ll see you all on Saturday.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
As I walked to the car park, I spotted a man dressed in a uniform identical to the one I’d seen Lester wearing. The man was clearly pretending to be studying a car number plate, but he wasn’t fooling me.
“Hi, there.”
The man seemed surprised that I should speak to him.
“Is this your car, lady?”
“No. Mine’s in the car park.” I glanced around to check no one was listening. “It’s okay, I know what you’re really up to. My uncle is in the same line of business.”
“I wondered why you’d stopped to speak to me. So few people do unless it’s to complain that I’ve given them a ticket.”
“You’re actually issuing parking tickets, then?”
“Of course. That’s what I do. That’s my job.”
“Of course.” I gave him a knowing wink. “I guess it helps to maintain your cover.”
“Sorry? I don’t understand.”
“I just meant that no one will realise you’re waiting around for someone to pop their clogs if you’re handing out parking tickets.”
“What do you mean by pop their clogs?”
“It’s okay.” I gave him another wink. “I understand you have to be discreet about the bodies.”
Just then, I spotted Lester, standing across the road. I was about to point him out to my new friend when I realised that Lester was gesturing frantically and mouthing something to me. It took him a few attempts, but I eventually worked out what he was saying.
He’s not a grim reaper.
Oh bum!
“What do you mean bodies?” the not-a-grim reaper said.
“Sorry, did I say bodies? I meant tickets. Anyway, it was nice speaking to you.” I hurried across the road to where Lester was now hiding behind a lamppost.
“What were you doing, Jill?”
“I thought he was—err—one of you.”
“What did you say to him?”
“Nothing really.”
“You didn’t mention grim reapers, did you?”
“Of course not. I may have said the word bodies, though, but I think I got away with it.”
“You didn’t mention my name, did you?”
“No. I don’t think so. Well, maybe just the once.”
“Oh boy. I hope word of this doesn’t get back to my bosses.”
“I’m really sorry, Lester. Is there anything I can do?”
“I think you’ve already done quite enough.”
***
“Let me get this straight.” Jack laughed. “You walked up to a traffic warden and asked how many bodies he’d processed.”
“No, I didn’t say that. It was just a simple misunderstanding. And they aren’t called traffic wardens now. They’re called civil enforcement officers.”
“Seriously? I didn’t know that. What did Lester have to say?”
“He wasn’t impressed.”
“I bet.”
“I was over at Aunt Lucy’s earlier today, and it seems like the whole of Candlefield is in carnival mode.”
“How come?”
“Braxmore is dead.”
“Who? I’ve never heard of him.”
“I thought I’d mentioned him before. Basically, he was the evillest dude the paranormal world has ever known.”
“What happened to him?”
“No one knows. His body was found in the marketplace. All of the streets were full of people celebrating.”
My nose began to tickle, and I sneezed.
“What’s that?” Jack laughed.
“What’s what?”
“That, in your hand.”
I’d instinctively reached into my pocket for a tissue, and without realising it, I’d brought out the handkerchief that the market stallholder had given to me.
“It’s nothing.”
“That’s your picture on there, isn’t it?”
“No.” I shoved the hanky back into my pocket.
“Yes, it is. I saw it. What’s that all about?”
“If you must know, they’re actually selling all kinds of merchandise with my photo on it, in Candlefield. T-shirts, towels, mouse mats, all sorts of stuff.”
“But, why?”
“Because I’m considered something of an icon over there.”
“No, I meant why do you have a moustache in the photo?”
Chapter 18
“Go on, spoilsport.” Jack grinned.
“The answer is still no. And for goodness sake, wipe that marmalade off your chin. How old are you? Ten?”
“Just one t-shirt, please. I promise I won’t wear it in public.”
“I am not buying you a t-shirt that has a picture of me with a moustache on it, and that’s final.”
“Aww.” He sighed. “So, what are you going to do about the guy who did this?”
“I’ve not decided yet, but you can bet your life it will cause him every bit as much embarrassment as he’s inflicted on me.”
***
I’d barely got through the door of the outer office when Mrs V
came dancing around her desk.
“We’ve done it, Jill. We’ve put in an offer for the new house.”
“Good for you. You seemed so unsure there for a while.”
“I know. It’s very strange. I was going backwards and forwards on whether we should do it or not, but then yesterday when I was talking to you, it all became very clear, and I realised I wanted to live there.”
“When do you expect to hear back from the seller?”
“I’m not sure. Armi is going to give me a call if he hears anything.”
“Fingers crossed, then.”
“Would you like a drink?”
“Not just now. I have to nip out in a few minutes. I need to do some work on the Bell case.”
“You haven’t forgotten what day it is tomorrow, have you?”
“It isn’t your birthday is it?”
“No.”
“Jack’s birthday? No, that’s not for a while. It isn’t my wedding anniversary, is it?”
“Of course not, dear. I’ll never like that cat of yours, but I know you have a soft spot for him, so I wouldn’t want you to forget Love Your Cat day. Have you got him a card?”
“Don’t worry, Mrs V. That’s all in hand.”
Winky was on the sofa, and thankfully, the printing press had fallen silent.
“Well, have you?” he asked.
“Have I what?”
“Bought your darling feline a Love Your Cat card?”
“No, I haven’t, and what’s more, I don’t intend to.”
“That’s not very nice.” He sulked. “In fact, it makes me quite sad.”
“If you think that pathetic little act is going to bother me, you can think again. There’s no way I’m buying a card just to line your pockets.” I walked over to the screen. “Where’s the printing press gone? I thought you would have had it going full pelt today.”
“There’s no need. I’ve fulfilled all my orders already. There was a moment yesterday when I didn’t think I was going to make it, but then the machine seemed to find another gear, and in the end, I managed to get all of the orders out last night.”
“And how much have you made from this little escapade?”
“It’s so vulgar to talk about money, don’t you think?”