Squirrel & Swan Stolen Things

by M. D. Archer

  Paige stopped writing in her small black investigator-style notebook and looked up. “Just leaving, as in, literally walking out the door?”

  “Yes. We passed them in the hall. Cecilia said goodbye, shut the door, and then we all went through the kitchen out to the back deck. I’d brought a nice bottle of bubbly, and Cecilia got three glasses.

  “We went out to the back deck and her neighbour Gillian popped her head over the fence and she ended up joining us too. Oh, and Martin appeared as well.”

  Paige wrote all this down.

  “Did you stay outside on the deck the whole time?”

  “Yes, I believe we did. We only had a glass each, we weren’t there that long. Peyton and I left at around six, I’d guess. I couldn’t tell you what Cecilia did for the rest of the evening.”

  “But Martin and Gillian were still there when you left.”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “And no one went inside, used the loo or anything?”

  “Hmm. I can’t recall. I suppose it’s possible someone did briefly, but even so, they wouldn’t have had any reason to go upstairs, and Cecilia keeps her office locked. Only she has the key.”

  “Don’t worry about that, leave that to us. What about the writing group? Do you know anything about them?”

  “Only a little, from what Cecilia tells me. She gets great inspiration from them, you know. For characters, I mean.” Suddenly she leaned forward. “Now that I think of it, Cecilia mentioned that one of them showed up at the house on Saturday. To her party. Completely out of the blue.”

  “How did she know about the party?”

  “That’s what I was wondering.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Cecilia didn’t say, except, “I can’t believe she did that”. So it was a woman. I certainly think it would be worth following up. One of those amateur writers had as good motive as anyone to want the great W. I. Sandstorm’s manuscript.”

  “But hang on, Cecilia’s identity is a secret.”

  Sally snorted. “That’s what she likes to think. Do you really think they’d put up with her pontificating and giving advice if they didn’t know she was successful? Cecilia loves all that cloak and dagger stuff. She even wears wigs and dark glasses at conventions and signings, but anyone who actually knows her in her day to day life knows who she is.”

  ANNIE SINGH, IN HER late twenties, Sophie guessed, sat across from them at a café in Victoria Park Market.

  “Hang on,” Paige said, frowning. “There’s a ghost in it but it’s not a fantasy novel? How does that work?”

  Annie lifted her chin. “It’s literature.”

  “Righto,” Paige said, clearly losing interest. “So, writing is a hobby. What do you do for a job? It’s the middle of the day. Why aren’t you at work?”

  Annie baulked and pulled herself upright. “It’s not a hobby. I am a writer. I’m just an unpublished one.”

  “Okay, but how do you pay rent?” Paige persisted.

  “I don’t know that that’s any of your business,” she replied.

  “Sorry for all these questions,” she said with a smile, trying to defuse the situation. “It’s just really helpful for us to get a complete picture of what happened. If we can gather all the information, even if it does seem totally irrelevant, we have a better chance of figuring out what happened. You do want to help Cecilia, don’t you?”

  Annie bit her lip, eyeing Sophie. “Yes, I do. She’s been very nice to me. Okay. I work on a helpdesk and I do some shift work, but mostly I work at night.”

  “What kind of helpdesk?”

  “Oh, IT. I work for a telco company, but I’d rather not say which one. I don’t want to get in trouble, or anything. And my job is pretty low-level, I’m not a tech whizz or anything, we have a manual to work through when we get a call and if it’s something really technical, we pass it onto the specialists. I find working at night helpful because I can be a bit of an insomniac and it means I use the time well, and then I can sleep in and spend my afternoons writing.”

  “And how long have you been part of Cecilia’s writing group?”

  “Just over a year. I find it really helpful. Even just to talk to others about the challenges of writing.”

  “Cecilia thinks her manuscript might have been stolen in December, the last time you got together for the year. Do you remember if everyone stayed in the living room?”

  “Oh, gosh, no. I mean, we were there for a couple of hours, I think maybe we all used the bathroom at one point.”

  “Did anyone go upstairs?”

  “I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t know, not really. You’ve been to her house. Once you’ve left the living room, you can’t really see where the person goes.”

  “That doesn’t help us very much,” Paige muttered, making notes.

  “Did anything unusual happen that day?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes. Just as we finished for the afternoon, Peyton Brosnan arrived,” she said, leaning forward with bright eyes.

  “You’re a fan?”

  “Oh, yes. I knew he and Cecilia shared an editor, Sally Cookson, she was with him. I rather wondered if I might meet him at some point. It was very exciting. I got his autograph,” she added with a small smile. “But then Cecilia kind of shooed us away.”

  “Everyone in the writing group all left at the same time?”

  “I think so.” She frowned. “No, wait. Come to think of it, I’m not sure. I gave Juniper a lift home, but I can’t recall seeing either Geoff or Tammy actually drive away. I couldn’t be sure.”

  Paige made a note.

  “And why did you show up at Cecilia’s party on Saturday?”

  “Oh, uh, no. That’s not right. I, uh, wasn’t invited. We only go there for writing group.”

  “Annie,” Sophie said gently. “A moment ago, you let it slip that you knew we’d been to Cecilia’s house. Because you saw us there that night, didn’t you? You were there.”

  “Well...”

  “Cecilia’s already told us,” Paige added bluntly.

  Annie folded her arms across her chest. “Fine, yes, I was there, but not really.”

  “What do you mean?” Paige asked, frowning.

  “In the end I was, uh, too nervous to talk to anyone. It was too intimidating.”

  “Why did you go?”

  “My book is nearly finished, and I’ll be needing a publisher, or an agent. I thought I might find the courage to, uh, network.”

  “But you didn’t in the end.”

  “No, I mean yes. I mean... I didn’t.”

  Paige and Sophie caught each other’s eyes.

  “Can I ask,” Annie said. “The book that was stolen from Cecilia, it wasn’t The Bonds of Death was it?” Her eyes lit up. “With the timing, I couldn’t help but wonder.”

  “We can’t disclose that,” Paige said firmly. “Thank you for your time and please let us know if you think of anything else.” She handed her a card.

  Sophie said goodbye as well and the two of them left the café to walk back to Sophie’s car.

  “Do you think it means anything that she guessed the book?” Sophie said.

  “Not sure. Maybe we should see how many new releases there were at the same time?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “And she all but confirmed that she knew Cecilia is Sandstorm.”

  “She did?”

  “She knew Sally was her editor. How would she know that if she didn’t know her writer identity is W. I. Sandstorm.”

  “Good point.”

  “Okay, who is next?”

  “Juniper Jones.”

  “That’s a rock star’s name,” Paige said, grinning.

  “Kind of, ay?” Sophie smiled too. “We’re meeting at the university. City campus outside the science building. I already found a photo online, so we know who we’re looking for.”

  Paige drove the short distance to campus and managed to find a park right on Princes Street because it was the summe
r holidays and most students were on break.

  “Back in the old hood,” Paige said, as they got out of the car and walked across. “Summer school must still be in session,” she added, gesturing at the smattering of students wandering around, either engrossed in conversation, hunched over phones, or in some cases appearing to be actually consulting textbooks. “You know, I kind of miss it.”

  “Me too. Exams and studying all the time can be rough, but there’s something, I don’t know, special about it.”

  “Ha!” Someone to their left said loudly and bitterly. They both stopped and turned to see a dishevelled looking guy with a textbook under his arm, sucking on an extra-large energy drink. “Special?” he said. “I’m counting the minutes until this is over.” He loped away, taking big ungainly strides.

  “There,” Sophie said, pointing across the quad. Juniper was sitting cross-legged on a bench. They headed over.

  “Juniper?” Paige said.

  “Yes?”

  “Dr Garnet and Dr Swanephol from S & S Investigations.”

  “Right, yeah. Something was stolen from Cecilia’s house? I don’t think I can help you. I don’t really know what’s going on. Like, literally. I know nothing.”

  Ten minutes later, it was evident that Juniper had been telling the truth about not knowing what was going on. Not much of what occurred at the writing group seemed to have penetrated Juniper’s long-term memory. All-in-all, Juniper did not seem to be altogether connected to reality.

  As they started back to the car, Paige said. “What the hell was that?”

  Sophie shook her head. “I don’t know but Juniper is either an extremely good actor pretending to be clueless, or actually is that clueless.” She paused. “I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.”

  “A dead-end?”

  “We should move on, I think.”

  “Tammy and Geoff haven’t got back to me but it’s time to see Peyton anyway.”

  “The main suspect.”

  “It’ll be interesting to hear what he has to say about his financial issues.”

  They hopped into Paige’s car and buckled up. Sophie gripped the edge of the door and braced herself. Recently Paige’s driving had been a little better, due in no small part to the fender bender she almost got into a couple of weeks ago. Sophie knew that this temporary cautiousness would eventually wear off and they’d be back to nail biting journeys. But petrol was expensive, and Sophie didn’t want to always use her car.

  “Hey, what did you and Roman talk about at Cecilia’s party?” Paige said she drove. “I saw you two huddled together at one point.”

  Sophie glanced at Paige then sighed. “We talked a bit about how he didn’t give the name SOS Agency to that reporter.”

  “Hah!” Paige cried.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know, except I know something is up with that whole mess. It’s almost as if...” Paige trailed off, looking thoughtful.

  “What?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Did you talk about anything else? About what a nightmare his wife is?”

  “As if.” Sophie fell silent. “But she seems like one, eh? Like, she basically came on to Wade right in front of me. And Roman.”

  “Don’t forget the I sleep naked bit” Paige said, putting on a throaty voice to imitate Anya.

  Sophie snorted.

  “And Wade wasn’t having any of it, was he. He seems like a good one, Soph.”

  “I know,” Sophie said, a little glum.

  Paige pulled up outside a small brick unit in Onehunga. “This is it.” They both eyed the exterior. “Clearly not doing as well as Cecilia,” Paige added, hopping out of the car. She hurried up the path with Sophie close behind and stepped up to rap on the door. Almost immediately a woman wearing a pinafore answered the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Peyton Brosnan, please,” Paige said.

  “No.”

  “He doesn’t live here?”

  She shook her head. “Not here now.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “He’s gone away. And before you ask, I don’t know, but wherever he went, he took two bags with him.”

  10

  At eleven o’clock that night Paige and Sophie were ensconced in Sophie’s car, parked a couple of doors down from a rather large bungalow in Sandringham where Hannah, Sophie’s newly acquired half-sister, was house-sitting.

  Sophie was trying to focus on the job at hand but was having difficulty because Roman also lived in Sandringham. He could even be on this street for all she knew. Her thoughts kept drifting to him, replaying their conversation at Cecilia’s party—reliving every single moment. She shook her head, annoyed at herself. She was dating Wade. In a few days they were going on a proper dinner date, just the two of them, and Sophie wanted to give their potential relationship a proper shot.

  Next to her, Paige yawned, causing Sophie to stifle her own yawn. It had only been two hours, and as far as Sophie was concerned this stakeout was just as dull as the first one they’d been on. She was pretty sure Paige was as bored as she was, but she refused to admit it because doing this was the absolute epitome of being an investigator. When Paige was on a stakeout, just as when she wrote clues on the murder board or made notes in her little black notebook, Paige was living her best ‘investigator’ self.

  “Shall I text Leo and tell him what we’re doing?” Paige said with a smirk.

  “Awkward. The last time we were staking him out.”

  “I know.” Paige rolled her eyes. “That’s why it’s funny.”

  Sophie suspected Leo wouldn’t think it was funny. In the middle of his ill-advised pet-napping scheme, they’d caught him delivering a ransom note, and in a panic, he’d rammed his car into Sophie’s treasured Volkswagen Jetta. He’d now paid her back for the insurance excess, but Sophie knew Leo was still embarrassed by the whole thing.

  “I still haven’t spoken to him, you know. Not properly. Have you?” Sophie asked.

  “Nope. Why?”

  “He’s been so cagey and distant. You don’t think he wants to stop working with us, do you? It’s not as if we give him regular hours or anything.”

  Paige scoffed. “He loves S & S Investigations.”

  “Yeah, but he has to pay rent.”

  Paige shrugged. “He’s fine.”

  Sophie sighed. Paige lived in a bubble of family wealth and a partner with a steady income—not to mention his own house—and could be ignorant about the practicalities of life.

  Paige glanced out into the darkness. “Let’s go over the locked room case while we wait. Peyton’s disappeared.”

  “His cleaner said he’d just gone away for a few days.”

  “Same dif. He’s AWOL and it looks super guilty.”

  “But if doesn’t know we’re investigators then why would he run?”

  “Sally’s his editor, remember? Maybe she told him. Maybe she called him and warned him that we would ask about his finances.”

  Sophie nodded slowly. “Because if she is helping him out of something and she’s using company funds inappropriately, or something, she wouldn’t want that to get out either. Yeah, he could be dodging us.”

  “Sally must know where he is and when he’s coming back.”

  “But rather than being the manuscript thief, maybe he’s just covering up whatever his financial thing is.”

  “Possible.”

  “If Peyton’s short of money, how does he even have a cleaner?” Sophie mused.

  “I can’t imagine him doing any cleaning, at all.”

  “True. You know what, though, the thing that doesn’t make sense to me is that in publishing the book under that pen name he doesn’t get any personal accolades. Peyton strikes me as someone who wants accolades.” Sophie tilted her head. “But maybe he’s fed up with being the award-winning but poor artist. Maybe it is as simple as him needing financial reward. It’s a powerful motivator.”

  “And it kind of applies
to everyone, right? Whoever did it could be doing it for the money.”

  “And to set up a successful writing career.”

  “I left messages for Geoff and Tammy, by the way, but they haven’t replied yet.”

  “Maybe Leo can tell us something about the Amazon profile of the writer who published the book. Amazon will have tight security but it’s worth asking,” Sophie suggested. “If he doesn’t get in contact soon, we might need to find out what’s going on with him.”

  Paige nodded. “And I called Cecilia to ask when Leo could get another look at her hard drive and computer and when we could inspect her room and she hasn’t replied either. I mean, she said she’d get back to me, but she hasn’t.”

  Sophie felt a twinge of guilt as she thought about all the phone calls Paige had made for this case compared with the zero she herself had taken responsibility for. But one of the reasons she and Paige made such a good team was because they had different strengths.

  “If Leo can confirm that the deletion did occur on December 10th, I think it’s safe to say that one of the visitors to her house could have slipped upstairs during the afternoon,” Sophie said. “But what about the locked door?”

  “Cecilia can’t keep the key with her at every single moment of every single day. It’s got to be possible for someone to have made a copy. And Martin is at the top of that list, right?”

  Sophie added in agreement. “The way he was hovering outside the door when we were there? That was weird.”

  “Let’s go round to Cecilia’s house tomorrow and ask him. We can ask to see the room again.”

  “But Cecilia hasn’t—”

  “If she wants us to solve this, we need to visit the house again.” Paige suddenly sat up. “Hey, what’s that?” She pointed across the street, then turned wide eyes to Sophie. “I think I saw someone creep down the side of the house.”

  LEO SAT IN FRONT OF his laptop at the small table in Jane’s motel room. “We now know for sure you were on Dominion Road last week. You seemed upset, you may have had a male companion, and uh,” Leo cleared his throat, “he may not have been welcome?”

  Jane nodded.