by Adele Abbott
“How can you eat that stuff?” I pulled a face.
“It’s good for you.”
“Says who?”
“All the experts.”
“I bet they don’t eat it—these so-called experts. I bet they have a fry-up for breakfast.”
“Have you even tried it?”
“I don’t need to. I have eyes in my head.”
“Mmm, lovely!” He put a spoonful of the horrible stuff into his mouth. “By the way, you haven’t forgotten I’m away overnight on a course the day after tomorrow, have you?”
“You’re always going away on courses. I’m beginning to think you have another woman hidden away somewhere.”
“I don’t go away that often, and besides, where would I find someone as beautiful as you.” He leaned forward and tried to kiss me.
“Yuk! Get away from me with your muesli-covered lips.”
“Do you have the final numbers for the anniversary party?” he said through a mouthful of wood shavings.
“I had them ready for you last night, as promised, but you weren’t here.”
“I had to work late. There was an incident in West Chipping town centre.”
“An incident? Very cloak and dagger.”
“I can’t say any more. It’s on a need-to-know basis.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to know, on an I-don’t-care basis.”
“So? Is everyone coming?”
“Not quite. It’s just Kathy and Peter, Aunt Lucy, and the twins.”
“What about the other menfolk?”
“Alan and William both have to work. And Lester has to attend a grim—err—a convention.”
“Why would he want to go to a convention if it’s going to be so grim?”
“Err—it’s not Lester who thinks it’ll be grim. He’s quite excited about it. It was Aunt Lucy who said it would be grim.”
“What is it Lester does, exactly?”
“Lester?”
“Yeah. What does he do?”
“What does Lester do?”
“Is it top secret or something?”
“No, of course not. Lester—err—he—err despatches things. That’s it. He works in a despatch department.”
“Oh? And this convention is to do with his work?”
“Yes. It’s a despatcher’s convention. It sounds deadly dull to me.”
“No kidding. I can see why your aunt thinks it’s grim. What about your grandmother?”
“Grandma? What about her?”
“Will she be coming to the party?”
“She wanted to, but she’ll be out of town on that day. She’s going to a convention, too.”
“The same one as Lester?”
“No. This is something to do with yarn. She was devastated that she can’t make it, and sends her apologies.”
“Not to worry. I’ll let Mum know who’ll be there.”
What? I know I was lying. I don’t need a guilt trip from you. And besides, I was doing it to protect Jack. From Grandma.
Jack left before I did. He no doubt had work to do on his top secret incident.
“I’m glad I caught you, Jill,” Mr Hosey said.
That made one of us. His stupid train, Bessie, was blocking my driveway. Again.
“I’m just on my way to work, Mr Hosey.”
“This won’t take a minute. I tried to catch Jack, but he said he was working on something important, but that you weren’t particularly busy, and would have time to talk to me.”
Jack. Was. So. Dead.
“He must have been joking. I’m really busy just now.”
“You may be busy today, but who’s to say what next week will bring? Or next month? The only way to ensure your business has a constant flow of customers is to—?” He looked to me for the answer.
“Advertise?”
“Got it in one, Jill. And that’s precisely why I wanted to talk to you.”
Only then, did I notice that Mr Ivers’ movie newsletter ads were no longer displayed on the train.
“Fortuitously for you, I find myself with an opening in my advertising schedule. I know how disappointed you were to miss out on an opportunity to advertise on Bessie last time.”
“How come Mr Ivers has taken his ads down?”
“It seems he’s abandoned his movie newsletter. He did beg me to allow him to advertise his new venture, but I had to turn him down.”
“The bottle top newsletter?”
“You’ve heard about it, then. I didn’t want to be a party to encouraging that wicked addiction.”
Huh?
“So, you see, that’s why I’m able to offer you this opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Sorry, Mr Hosey, but it isn’t for me.”
“Have you forgotten that it includes free rides on Bessie?”
“Tempting as that is, I have to decline.”
“Just don’t blame me if your business goes under.” He walked off in a huff.
***
I’d arranged to meet Maria at Cuppy C, but there was no sign of her when I arrived. The twins were nowhere to be seen, either.
“Where are they?” I asked the assistant who was manning the tea room counter.
“Amber and Pearl? They’re both out on deliveries.”
“Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten the delivery service had started. How’s it—?”
The phone behind the counter rang, so the assistant broke off from serving me.
“Cuppy C U Soon. Gillian speaking. How can I help?” She grabbed a pen, and began scribbling notes onto a pad. “What flavour? Mini or giant? Can you give me your address, please? Okay. We’ll be with you as soon as possible.”
“It’s been like that all day,” she said when she came back to the counter. “I’ve barely seen Amber or Pearl. I don’t know how I’m supposed to take a break.”
“Did I hear right? Was that an order for a single muffin?”
“Yeah. A mini one.”
“Have you had many small orders?”
“The majority have been like that. One cupcake here, one muffin there, one cup of tea.”
Oh dear.
The phone rang another three times while I was waiting for Maria to arrive.
“Sorry I’m late, Jill.” She sounded out of breath. “The pig got out.”
“You have a pig?”
“I don’t. It’s my brother’s. It’s one of those miniature ones. It had got into next door’s garden. They weren’t very impressed because it had done its business in their dahlias.”
“Oh dear. Can I get you a drink?”
“Not for me. I can’t stay long.”
“This shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes. I just wanted to follow up on our conversation of the other day. About you and Luther.”
“I know you mean well, Jill. And Luther is a lovely man, but I don’t see how it’s ever going to work.”
“There may be a way.” I took the cardboard box from my pocket.
“What are those?”
“I got them from Love Bites. You’re not the only vampire to run into this kind of problem.”
“Patches?”
“Yeah. They slow release synthetic blood. According to the woman at Love Bites, these should get rid of your craving, and over time, you’ll find you can do without them.”
“I’m not sure about this.” She studied the box.
“You like Luther, don’t you?”
“Yes. He’s really nice.”
“Well then. Give them a go. What do you have to lose?”
Maria still seemed sceptical, but she agreed to give them a shot.
***
Back in Washbridge, I made my way down the high street to Norman’s new shop, Top Of The World. It was still early, but the shop was already doing a brisk trade. Norman had taken on a couple of assistants. The man himself was standing in one corner, monitoring proceedings.
“Good morning, Norman.”
He treated me to his usual ‘out-to-lunch’ expressi
on for a few seconds before the penny dropped. “Oh, hi.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“There’s the toilet.”
“Err—I was thinking more your office.”
“Oh? Okay.” He led the way.
“I need your help, Norman. I realise this may sound like a strange question, but have you ever come across any—err—bottle top addicts?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, quite matter-of-factly. “It gets a few people like that.”
“I suppose they must be your best customers?”
“No.” He shook his head. “That sort of thing is bad for the industry. That’s why Toppers Anonymous was formed—it’s funded by the industry.”
“Toppers Anonymous?”
“They help people with a bottle top addiction.”
“Do they have a local branch?”
“Yeah. Would you like one of their cards?”
“That would be great.”
Who would have thought it? Maybe there was hope for Deli and Nails’ marriage after all.
I made a call to Mad to give her the good news.
She was delighted, and promised to pass the information on to Nails straight away.
As I made my way back up the high street, I noticed there was a queue of people outside Betty Longbottom’s shop, which had now reverted to its original name: She Sells.
Betty must have seen me looking through the window because she came outside to join me.
“Don’t let me drag you away, Betty. I can see you have a lot of customers.”
“It’s okay. I have two assistants working for me now. They can cope.”
“Business seems to be booming. Have you been doing a lot of advertising?”
“None, but I have had a spot of good luck.”
“Oh?”
“Have you heard of Viv Royal?”
“I don’t think so. Should I have?”
“She’s a megastar on YouTube. She has millions of subscribers. Anyway, she’s decided that crustacean jewellery is the hot thing. Ever since she started to wear it, business has been booming.”
“That’s great. I’m really pleased for you.”
“Did I see you just come out of Norman’s shop?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t realise you’d become a topper. You have to be careful with those bottle tops, Jill. They can be addictive.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” I glanced up the road. “I see The Final Straw has closed down.”
“It’s a real shame. I loved their drinks. No one else does flavours like they did.”
***
Mrs V and Jules were both in today. Neither of them looked very happy.
“Have you two been falling out again?”
“No.” Jules spoke first.
“It’s your grandmother’s new product,” Mrs V said.
“Chameleon Wool? What’s wrong with it?”
“You might well ask.” She held up an off-white scarf.
“That’s rather plain for you, isn’t it?”
“It wasn’t plain until this morning. It was multi-coloured. The colours just disappeared.”
“Yes.” Jules chimed in. “Look.” She held up a pair of anaemic-looking socks.
“What’s happened?”
“That’s what we’d like to know.” Mrs V picked up the phone. “We’ve been trying to contact the Chameleon Wool hotline, but all we can get is your grandmother’s voice telling us how important our call is to her. It’s not good enough, Jill. All of our work will have been wasted if the colours are permanently lost. Can’t you have a word?”
“I don’t think that would help the situation. I’m sure Grandma is on it.”
I hurried through to my office. I had more than enough on my plate without getting involved with Grandma’s business problems.
“Didn’t I tell you!” Winky was doing a little jig, and holding something in his paw.
“Why are you so happy?”
“Didn’t I tell you that I was going to win the lottery?”
“Pull the other one.”
“It’s true.” He stopped dancing, and held up the lottery ticket. “Granted I didn’t win the jackpot, but I have won five thousand pounds for getting five numbers.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Of course I am. Five thousand smackeroos, and they’re all mine.”
“Well, congratulations, I guess. I’m glad one of us has some luck.”
“I’ll need you to cash it in for me.”
“Why me? Cash it in yourself.”
“How can I? I’m a cat.”
“You managed to buy it.”
“I got a friend’s two-legged to get it for me. Come on, Jill. I need the cash.”
“What’s my cut?”
“Why should you get any?”
“For the wear and tear on my shoes.”
“The shop is only two doors down.”
“Ten per cent.”
“How can you do that to your darling cat?”
“You mean the darling cat who has been conning me all week? I haven’t forgotten the Lenny incident.”
“Okay. Ten per cent.”
Result! Five hundred pounds just for cashing in a lottery ticket. Who’s the smart one now?
Don’t answer that.
I took the ticket, and slipped it into my handbag. “I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get your cash, though, because I’m run off my feet.”
“No problem. I’m a patient guy.”
Chapter 13
With Sheila Bowlings’ permission, I’d already looked through her husband’s personal papers that he kept at the house. Now she’d cleared it with his employer for me to visit his place of work, to check any personal papers he might have there. Brendan Bowlings worked for Washbridge Council in the Weights and Measures office (whatever that was).
“It’s just terrible.” His secretary, a fussy little woman, greeted me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name?”
“Sarah Weller. I’ve been Brendan’s secretary for almost ten years. I can’t believe this has happened.” She was close to tears. “Do you think he is—?”
She didn’t finish the question, but then she didn’t need to because it was quite obvious what she was thinking.
“It’s too early to speculate on what might have happened to him.”
“I’m very worried. Brendan wouldn’t have simply left without a word.”
“There was nothing bothering him, then? As far as you know?”
“No. He was perfectly happy.”
“I believe that his wife called earlier, and cleared it for me to look through his personal things.”
“Yes, of course. Please come with me.” She led the way to another small room. “This is Brendan’s office.”
“Thank you. Do you think I could get a drink?” I wanted her out of the room, and that was the politest way I could think of to get her out from under my feet.
“Of course. Tea? Coffee?”
“Tea with one and two-thirds spoonfuls of sugar, please.”
“One and—err—? Okay. I’ll be right back.”
It didn’t take very long to look through all the drawers in his desk. All but one of them contained nothing but council documents. The bottom drawer on the right-hand side appeared to be the one where he kept all his personal papers. There were credit card statements and numerous receipts. Rather than trying to scrutinise them under the beady eye of his secretary, I slipped them into my bag.
“There you are.” She held out the cup. “I think I’ve got the sugar right.”
“Thanks, but I’ve just had an urgent call. I have to leave straight away.”
“But what about your tea?”
“Sorry.” I made for the door. “I really do have to run.”
***
“Can’t you have a word with your grandmother?” Mrs V collared me as soon as I got back to the office. “It’s impossible to get
through on the support line.”
“The Chameleon Wool is still not working, I take it?”
“It keeps coming and going.” She picked up the same scarf she’d shown me earlier. “Look!”
Different sections of the scarf kept changing colour. One moment a section would be red, blue or green, and then the next it would be back to the anaemic-looking shade of off-white.
“I’ll pop down there in a while, but I have some papers to look through first. Don’t expect too much, though. Grandma rarely takes any notice of me.”
“Where is it?” Winky demanded, as soon as I stepped into my office.
“Where is what?” I snapped back.
“The lottery cash, of course.”
“I haven’t had a chance to claim it yet. I told you it might take me a while. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m really busy.”
“You need to prioritise.”
“And I suppose your lottery cash would be top priority.”
“It goes without saying, doesn’t it?”
“I’ll get around to it as soon as I can. It’s not as though anyone is going to run away with it, is it?”
“I hope you have the ticket in a safe place?”
“Yes! It’s in my bag. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
I emptied all the papers that I’d found in Brendan Bowlings’ drawer, onto my desk, and began to work my way through them. They made for very interesting reading. There were a number of credit card statements among them, and interestingly, although the card was a personal one, not a business one, they were addressed to his office. I’d seen other credit card statements at his home, but a quick look through these suggested that this card had been used mainly for restaurants, theatres and clothes shops—women’s clothes shops. There were also a lot of receipts. One in particular caught my eye; it was for a double room in a hotel in Brighton, dated two weeks earlier. A quick check against the credit card statement confirmed that payment had been made with that card. It was time to make a call to Sheila Bowlings. This could potentially be a little awkward; all my powers of diplomacy would be required.
What? Of course I can be diplomatic. Sheesh!
“Sheila? It’s Jill Gooder.”
“Have you found him? Is he okay?”
“No, sorry. No news yet, I’m afraid. I was just wondering if you or Brendan had been away recently.”