by Adele Abbott
“Yes, a couple of weeks ago. To my sister’s.”
“Where does she live?”
“In Cambridge. Brendan didn’t go with me. He and Maude don’t get on.”
“What did your husband do while you were at your sister’s?”
“He stayed at home and watched the racing, like he always does. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Thanks for that. I’ll be in touch when I know anything.”
I quickly ended the call before she could ask any awkward questions. If the dates matched up, and my guess was that they would, it looked like Brendan had been living a secret life that his wife knew nothing about. If he hadn’t been with his wife in Brighton, who had he been with?
Jules popped her head around the door. “Jill, I have Mr Whiteside to see you.”
“Okay. Give me a minute, and then send him in.”
Zac Whiteside was my landlord. I couldn’t let him see Winky, or I’d be looking for a new office. Luckily for me, Winky had curled up under the sofa, and was now fast asleep. Provided he didn’t stir, Zac would never notice him.
“Thanks for seeing me without an appointment,” Zac said.
“No problem. I’m not behind on the rent, am I?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s just that I’ve spent a lot of time recently reflecting on my life, and where exactly I’m headed.”
“Oh?” Why was he telling me that? Did he have me mixed up with a shrink?
“Anyway, I’ve decided to sell up and move on. I’m going to join a commune in the South of France.”
“Wow! That’s quite the lifestyle change.”
“I’m letting all my tenants know that I’ve sold all the properties in my portfolio to Macabre Holdings.”
“I’m not mad on the name.”
“It’s not as sinister as it might sound. The company is named after the owner, Martin Macabre. He’ll no doubt come around soon to introduce himself.”
“Right. Well, thanks for letting me know, Zac. And good luck with your new life.”
“That’s a made-up name, if ever I heard one.” Winky came out from under the sofa. “Martin Macabre? Do me a favour.”
“You’ll need to stay on your toes. We can’t afford to let the new landlord see you when he comes around.”
“No problem. I’ll be as nimble as a ninja.”
***
I couldn’t put it off any longer. Mrs V had been chuntering away ever since I came back to the office.
“I’m going down to Ever, to see Grandma.”
“Good!” Mrs V held up the scarf, which was once again totally devoid of colour. “This really isn’t good enough, Jill.”
There was still a queue outside She Sells. The YouTube starlet had certainly done Betty a big favour.
There was a queue at Ever too, but these were not customers waiting to buy stuff. They were all up in arms about the recent problems with Chameleon Wool. I felt really sorry for Kathy and Chloe who were desperately trying to pacify the crowd. Grandma, of course, was nowhere to be seen. Normally, I might have tried the roof terrace, but I doubted she’d be up there today. It would have been far too easy for the angry customers to track her down up there.
Just as I suspected, she was in her office.
“Shut the door, quick!” she shouted, as soon as I walked in.
“It’s not fair for you to hide in here while Kathy and Chloe have to take all the flak.”
“I’m not hiding! I’m trying to sort out the problem.”
“It doesn’t look as though you’re having much joy.”
“Is that why you came down here? To state the obvious, and to gloat?”
“I’m not gloating. I promised Mrs V and Jules that I’d talk to you. They’ve been trying to get through on the support line for hours.”
“Them and everyone else.” She picked up a sheet of paper which appeared to contain the details of a very complex spell.
“Is that the Chameleon Wool spell?”
“No, it’s my shopping list. Of course it is!”
“Can I see it?”
“What good would that do?”
“None probably, but how can it hurt?”
“Here then!” She shoved the sheet of paper into my hand.
I was used to concocting quite complex spells of my own, but this was something else entirely. It took me several minutes just to figure out how it worked. It was incredibly clever.
“Aren’t those two the wrong way around?” I pointed to two of the dozens of images that went to make up the spell.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“The butterfly and the marigold.” I pointed again. “Shouldn’t they be—?”
“What are you talking about?” Grandma snatched it back, and studied the spell again. After a few minutes, she nodded her head. “You could be right.” She closed her eyes, and I could see she was casting the spell.
Moments later, a huge cheer went up from inside the shop. I cracked the door open just wide enough to see the crowd gathered around the counter.
“It’s working!” someone yelled.
“About time, too.”
Slowly, the customers began to file out of the shop, leaving Kathy and Chloe with a relieved look on their faces.
I turned to Grandma. “It worked.”
“Such a big fuss about nothing.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I would have sorted it out myself if you hadn’t come barging in, disturbing my concentration.”
The woman was unbelievable.
***
When I arrived home, Megan was just coming out of her house. She was wearing a polo neck jumper, and it seemed like she was trying to avoid my gaze.
“Hi, Megan.”
“Oh? Hey, Jill. I didn’t see you there.”
I knew very well that she had.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, thanks. I’m meeting someone in town.”
“Your new boyfriend?”
“Err—yeah.”
“What’s his name?”
“Ryan.”
“Is he the one you met through the dating agency? How’s it going with him?”
“He is, and it’s going okay, thanks.”
Somehow, that didn’t ring true.
“Where does he work?”
“He’s the manager of the betting shop on the high street.”
“WashBets?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, Jill, I have to get going or I’ll be late.”
That was not the Megan Lovemore I’d come to know. Until recently, she’d always been bright and bubbly, and if anything, too chatty. But that had all changed since she’d started dating Ryan, and having seen the bruise on her neck, I thought I knew why. It was high time I introduced myself to that young man.
I was just about to go into the house when a car pulled up onto what had been Mrs Rollo’s drive. A young man, no more than twenty-years of age, jumped out.
“Hi!” he shouted. His hair was spiked up with way too much gel. He was wearing jeans, and a T-shirt with the words: ‘Life Is Short’ on the front.
“I’m Jill Gooder.” I walked over to greet him.
“Pleased to meet you, Jill. I’m Dominic Worms; everyone calls me Worms.”
“Really? Okay, well it’s nice to meet you, Worms. I take it you’re renting this place?”
“Yeah. I’ll be moving in on Sunday, hopefully.”
“Are you from around here?”
“No, can’t you tell by the accent? I come from down south, but I’m a student at Washbridge College. This is my final year, and my parents thought I’d be able to revise better here—away from all the noise of the dorms. They’re footing the bill.”
“It’s rather big just for you, isn’t it?”
“It’ll be nice to have some space. Those dorms are like prison cells.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Chapter 14
“What’s going on out there?” Jack tr
ied to cover his ears with the pillow.
It was stupid o’ clock on Monday morning, and the music was so loud that it felt as though the house was vibrating.
I got out of bed and walked over to the window. “It’s next door.”
“Megan?”
“No. The other side. I meant to mention that our new neighbour was moving in yesterday.”
“Who is it?”
“Worms.”
“Who?”
“His name is Dominic Worms. He introduced himself when I got home from work the other day. He’s a student in his last year at Washbridge College. He seemed quite nice.”
“I’m not impressed.” Jack came and joined me at the window. “How many of them are there out there?”
“A lot by the looks of it.”
There were cars parked all down the road, blocking most of the driveways. Young men and women, most of them with a drink in their hand, had spilled out onto next door’s front garden. Meanwhile, the music—and I use the term loosely—was getting even louder.
I took a look out of the back window.
“It’s the same out here. The back garden is full of them. Come back, Mrs Rollo. All is forgiven. Even your baking.”
“I’ll go around there, and have a word.” Jack reached for his jeans.
“No. Leave it. It’s his first night. He’s probably just celebrating. I’m sure it will settle down after tonight.”
“Okay. I’ll go and make us a cup of tea.”
The party finally ended around four o’ clock, which explains why neither Jack nor I woke until almost nine.
“Look at the time!” Jack shouted as he threw on some clothes. “I’m meant to be in a meeting at nine-thirty.”
“Aren’t you going to have a shower?”
“No. They’ll just have to put up with my B.O.”
What a charmer.
One of the few advantages of working for myself was that I got to decide my own hours. It was almost a quarter to ten by the time I was ready to leave the house. It was only then I remembered that I needed to buy some custard creams to take into the office with me. I’d eaten the last few the previous afternoon.
Little Jack Corner was standing on his box behind the counter in the corner shop.
“Good morning, young lady. What can I get for you, today?”
“Just these.” I grabbed two packets of custard creams.
“You timed your visit very well because I’ve just introduced a new service that is going to be in great demand.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve started a VHS lending library.”
“VHS? You mean videos?”
“Yes. Only the most modern technology. None of that Betamax rubbish.” He pointed to the far side of the shop. “Have you seen the range of movies on offer?”
“Isn’t it all downloads and streaming nowadays?”
“Downloads?”
“Netflix. That type of thing?”
“Do they offer VHS?”
“Probably not.”
“Well then. They’re well behind the curve. So, can I interest you in a subscription?”
“Thanks, but no. We don’t do much viewing at home. Bye, then.”
“Don’t go until you’ve heard my thought for the day.”
“Oh, yes. I’d almost forgotten.”
“Too many cooks have a silver lining.”
“Great. Thanks for that.”
***
When I got back to the house, our young next-door neighbour was in his garden.
“Can I have a word?” I shouted.
“Sure.” He came over. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’d like to apologise for last night. Things got a little out of hand. I invited a handful of friends over to toast the new house, and well—we got a little carried away.”
“The music was rather loud.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“No problem. You’re only young once.”
“Thanks for being so understanding.”
It was good to have cleared the air. It seemed that my first impression of our new neighbour had been right after all. He wasn’t a bad sort.
As I was running late, I didn’t bother to call in at the office. Instead, I went straight to Jordan Rice’s place.
Wow! What a contrast to his twin brother, Gordon, whose top-end apartment was in one of the most sought after developments in Washbridge. Jordan Rice was living in a tiny bedsit, which was rather squalid. As he led the way inside, I noticed he walked with a slight limp.
“Motorcycle accident when I was a teenager.” He must have caught me staring at his leg. “I apologise for the state of this place. The wife and I split up recently. This is just a stopgap until I get something more permanent.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He shrugged. “These things happen. Do you want something to drink?”
I declined. If the crockery was as clean as the rest of the bedsit, I had no intention of drinking from it.
“I don’t really understand why you’re here.” He lit a cigarette.
“Amy has asked me to investigate Douglas’ death.”
“There can’t be much doubt about what happened, can there? He should never have been at work by himself. It’s our golden rule.”
“Gordon told me about that. Why do you think Douglas would have broken it?”
“I don’t know. Doug was usually ultra-cautious about everything.” Jordan fought back a tear.
“How is the business doing?”
“Okay. It’s tough for everyone these days.”
“Does the business have any cash problems?”
“No. What does that have to do with what happened to Doug?”
“Probably nothing. How had Douglas seemed to you, recently?”
“His usual self.”
“He hadn’t mentioned any problems?”
“No! Look, this was an accident. A tragic accident. I don’t see the point of any of this.”
That was pretty much his reaction to the rest of my questions. It was quite obvious that as far as Jordan Rice was concerned, his brother’s death had been an accident. And so far, I’d found nothing to suggest otherwise.
***
Amber and Pearl were both behind the counter in the tea room at Cuppy C.
“No deliveries today?” I asked.
“Muffin?” Amber said.
“I thought you’d both be whizzing around Candlefield on your scooters.”
“Caramel latte?” Pearl grabbed a cup.
Something wasn’t right. They had both deliberately ignored my questions.
“Yeah. A blueberry muffin. Giant not mini. And a caramel latte, please.”
I waited until I had my drink and cake.
“And now I’d like to know what’s going on with the deliveries. The last time I was in here, your assistant told me you were booked solid all day. What’s happened?”
“We had a board meeting last night,” Amber said. “And we took an executive decision to cancel the delivery service.”
“Already? It’s only been running for a day.”
“Things didn’t quite pan out as we’d expected.”
“You mean that people were ordering a single muffin or a single cup of tea?”
“Something like that.”
“I did warn you.”
“No one likes a know-it-all, Jill.” Amber pouted.
“Anyway, that’s all history now,” Pearl said. “During our board meeting, we came up with another brilliant idea.”
Would they never learn?
“What now?”
“You could at least pretend to be excited,” Amber continued to pout.
“You have had rather a lot of brilliant ideas, and to be fair, not many of them have turned out so well.”
“This one is different.”
Weren’t they all? “Go on, then.”
“If you’re just going to make fun, there’s
no point,” Pearl said.
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Swear on this blueberry muffin.” Amber held out the plate.
“Do what?”
“Go on. And, if you do make fun of our new idea, you’ll be banned from ever having another muffin in Cuppy C.”
That was a serious threat. My first reaction was to let them keep their secret, but curiosity got the better of me. I would just have to be ultra-careful how I reacted. No matter how hare-brained the scheme was, I couldn’t afford to laugh. A muffin ban was a very serious sanction.
“We’re going to host exhibitions by local artists in Cuppy C,” Amber announced, proudly.
“Paintings and sculptures,” Pearl said. “That kind of thing.”
“Actually, girls, that’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s a really good idea.”
“Are you just saying that, so we don’t ban you from eating muffins?” Pearl eyed me suspiciously.
“No, honestly, I think it’s a great idea. Probably your best to-date.”
The twins both beamed with pride.
“We already have our first exhibition lined up,” Pearl said.
“Yeah. It’s later this week.” Amber sounded every bit as enthusiastic.
“That’s great. I’ll call in and take a look at it.”
“Oh, while I remember, Jill.” Pearl passed my coffee. “Mum said we should ask you to drop in to see her the next time you came into the shop.”
“Any idea what it’s about?”
“No, but she said it wasn’t urgent.”
***
When I arrived at Aunt Lucy’s, I found her hard at work sewing. She had a pile of what appeared to be Lester’s trousers beside her on the sofa.
“You look busy.”
“It’s that stupid job of Lester’s. He spends a lot of time on his knees.”
“Why?”
She gave me an ‘isn’t it obvious’ look.
“Sorry. Yes, I suppose he would.”
“We can’t afford to keep buying new pairs, so I’m sewing leather patches on these. He isn’t very keen on the idea, but he’ll just have to suck it up.” Aunt Lucy looked up from what she was doing. “Or get a different job.”