Hattie Goes to Hollywood: Shenanigans, fun & intrigue in a new mystery series!

by Caroline James

  Camilla! Hattie suddenly had a flash of inspiration. As the company accountant, Camilla must be aware of the finances at Marland Manor and if she was as astute as she appeared to be, would surely know if there were any irregularities. Hattie wondered if Barry had discovered something that led to his death? Whether he took his own life, or had it taken, something didn’t stack up with the company that he worked for.

  Hattie had to talk to Camilla and ultimately John.

  She was deep in thought and doodling on her notepad when the door burst open and Alf walked in.

  ‘Got your wits about you?’

  ‘Eh?’ Hattie looked up.

  ‘The quiz night. Your team’s expecting you to lead them over the line and win hands down.’ Alf was serious. ‘Are you all set?’

  ‘Oh, bloody hell, I’d forgotten about that.’ Hattie scowled. ‘Do I really have to go?

  ‘Of course, or you’ll not only let yourself down, but you’ll let the lads down, the pub down and the village community as a whole.’

  ‘Alright, no need for all the drama. What time does it start?’

  ‘Seven on the dot and I’ll see you there.’

  ‘I’ll see you here before that - I want to have a word about your mouth.’ Hattie wagged her finger at Alf.

  ‘What’s tha’ problem?’

  ‘You need to stop discussing my business with Grace and anyone else you’re gossiping with.’

  ‘I never say ’owt.’ Alf reached for a roll-up from behind his ear. ‘I hardly see Grace, she makes stuff up to get your back up.’ He struck a match and lit up. ‘And it’s working by the look of things.’

  ‘I’d prefer my investigations to stay confidential.’

  ‘They are at the moment but when you crack the case everyone will know what you’ve been up to.’

  ‘I’ll worry about that when it happens. There’s little chance at the moment, I don’t seem to be making any progress at all.’

  ‘Well, her-next-door is making plenty of progress with your conservatory. Have the builders’ merchants been in touch?

  Hattie glanced at her phone and saw a missed call.

  ‘You need to get your plastic out and pay for the materials that are due to be delivered tomorrow. I’ve made a start on the foundations and I’ve got a couple of labourers working with me.’ Alf puffed deeply on the roll of tobacco that hung from his lips. ‘With this hot weather the footings will set in no time and we’ll be way ahead of schedule.’

  Hattie waved her hand to waft the smoke away. ‘Alright, I’ll sort it out. Now, take that poisonous object outside and crack on. I’ll see you later.’

  Alf smiled and, with a nod of his head, went on his way.

  Hattie watched the door close and her thoughts went back to Camilla and John. Suddenly, she remembered. The quiz night! Castle Care Communities were taking part. With any luck, both John and Camilla would be in the Holly Bush that evening. It was a perfect opportunity for Hattie to observe the pair together and, hopefully, get a chance to speak to them in a relaxed environment when they might be off their guard.

  She reached across the desk for the book that Harry had placed there the day before. The Whiz Quiz Book for Kids suddenly looked appealing. Hattie picked it up. There would be no harm in brushing up on a bit of knowledge before the big event. She reached into her desk and found a tube of toffees. Peeling one, she popped it in her mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, Hattie leaned back in her chair and rested her feet on the windowsill. ‘Nothing to it,’ she thought and began to flick through the pages of the book.

  17

  As the heat of the day bled into early evening and the sun hung low over Hollywood, villagers, enthused by the thought of the quiz night ahead, gathered in teams and sharpened their wits.

  Hattie stood by the open stable door of her kitchen, enjoying the soothing breeze that fluttered over the fields and landed, soft as a butterfly, warm on her skin. She looked out at the garden and scanned the surface of the pond to see if Drake was about.

  The duck was on the water. Silhouetted and silent, he moved seamlessly along the surface. ‘You need a mate,’ Hattie whispered, as she watched her feathered friend. Alf had told Hattie that ducks were social animals, who preferred to congregate in flocks of varying size. She wondered if Drake missed his mates from the village.

  Drake turned and, spotting Hattie, began to flap his glistening blue wings to elevate his body from the water. He landed with a plop and skidded to a halt by her feet.

  ‘Fancy a stroll to the pub?’ Hattie asked, reaching into her pocket for a handful of pellets. She flattened her palm and Drake ate greedily. ‘We can have a wander by the pond on the way home and you might think about asking one or two of your buddies if they’d like to see your new place?’ The duck nuzzled his beak against her pocket. ‘No more.’ Hattie pushed his head away. ‘If I keep feeding you, you’ll be too wide to waddle.’

  She turned to close the kitchen door and, throwing her bag over her shoulder, negotiated her way through the mayhem that Alf and two well-muscled labourers had created with a digger as they prepared the foundations for her conservatory. Rubble and hardcore were piled high.

  Hattie thought about the cost of materials that she’d paid for that day. It was cheap at half the price. The original quote, when Marjorie was planning a much larger extension, had been frightening and Hattie was pleased that they’d eventually agreed on something small. The little conservatory would be a cosy retreat in the evenings and Hattie looked forward to sitting peacefully with a gin and tonic, munching a few tasty nibbles.

  Hattie opened her gate and stepped into Lover’s Lane. Marjorie was revving her convertible out of the driveway of Holly House and, with the roof of the vehicle lowered, Hattie had a perfect view of the dress Marjorie was wearing. It was white with a skirt that barely covered her knickers, and a brief halter top.

  ‘Are you playing tennis?’ Hattie asked as Marjorie pulled up.

  ‘Hardly, in this heat. I’m just trying to keep cool.’

  ‘Very nice, you’ll raise a few temperatures in the pub in that outfit.’

  ‘It’ll give them something else to criticise me for.’ Marjorie stroked the hem of her skirt and Hattie wondered, yet again, what went through Marjorie’s middle-aged mind.

  ‘Can I give you a lift?’ Marjorie asked. Her long blonde hair was loose and curled elegantly on her shoulders.

  ‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’ Hattie smiled. ‘I’ll stroll with Drake and mingle with the others.’ She nodded towards the end of the lane where groups of people were making their way along the road to the pub.

  ‘I’m fetching John and Venetia; we’re in a team with Camilla.’

  ‘I thought you all hated each other?’

  ‘We do, but there’s damn all to do in this wretched place and winning the quiz would be satisfying. See you later.’

  Hattie placed one glittery trainer in front of the other and walked at a leisurely pace. There was little point in hurrying, or she would find herself heated and harassed by the time she arrived. As she made her way to the village, she passed the empty windows of the butcher’s and greengrocer’s and caught her reflection. Hattie was pleased that she’d chosen a smart pair of Capri pants and a pretty sleeveless blouse. Reggie would be busy, but Hattie knew that he’d cast his eye her way whenever he could, and she wanted to look nice for him. With any luck, he wouldn’t be too late finishing and she could look forward to a drink at her cottage and the rest of the night together.

  Hattie turned to step off the pavement and cross the road, just as Joan lumbered out of the convenience store. Dressed in a voluminous grey kaftan, the shopkeeper reminded Hattie of a seal.

  ‘Want a lift?’ Joan called out. ‘Arnie is getting the van out.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Hattie replied and wondered why the pair couldn’t walk the few hundred yards to the pub. ‘See you both over there.’ She gave Arnie a wave as he pulled alongside Joan and opened the passenger door.

  The vil
lage green came into view and Drake, still with Hattie, quickened his pace. He waddled ahead and broke into a run, to take flight, before landing with a commotion on a stretch of water that glistened under the late rays of the day. Two hens, who’d been peacefully enjoying their evening constitutional on the pond, quacked and flapped at the interruption. Hattie stared at the little brown birds and thought that nature was most unfair. The females were plain with brown speckled plumage and the contrast to their exotic male counterparts was visually disappointing. But this didn’t appear to put Drake off and in no time, he’d muscled his way into the space between the hens to swim happily alongside.

  ‘Oi, Drake, listen to me,’ Hattie said out loud, ‘don’t be getting up to any mischief.’

  ‘Talking to yourself?’

  Hattie spun around. Alf and Judy, strolling arm in arm across the grass, came towards her. Ness ran beside them, and the dog barked when she saw Drake, but the duck was preoccupied.

  ‘You’ll be booked into Marland Manor, if you keep that up,’ Alf said.

  ‘Hello, Judy, lovely to see you.’ Hattie ignored Alf and leaned in to kiss Judy on each cheek. ‘More than I can say for the lump of a lout you’ve bought with you.’

  ‘He’s just making up the numbers.’ Judy grinned. ‘I don’t expect him to get any of the questions right, but he can keep my glass topped up with cider.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ Hattie said, pushing Alf to one side. ‘You go and get the first round in and make mine a large one,’ she said as Alf walked ahead. ‘Judy’s going to update me with all the gossip from the hotel.’ She took Judy’s arm and linked it through her own.

  They’d reached the entrance to the pub where cars were parked on the roadside and all along the verge. ‘It looks very busy,’ Judy said. ‘Do you think we’ll be able to get a table?’

  ‘Aye, they’ve been reserved for the teams, you’ll be sitting with your beloved.’ Hattie smiled. ‘Look out for a sign that says, “Alf’s Army”.

  A motorhome pulled up and double-parked. Constable Derek Jones climbed out of the driver’s side and walked to the rear of the vehicle. He opened the door and reached for a set of steps, then proceeded to assist the occupants. ‘Make way for the Red-Hot Trivia Peppers,’ he called as a motley crew of earnest-looking quizzers piled out.

  Last to leave the motorhome was Harry. He looked hot and harassed in a creased cotton shirt, knee-length shorts and a yellow tank top.

  ‘Where the devil did you get that sweater from?’ Hattie asked, pulling a face.

  ‘Janine made it for me,’ Harry replied and stroked the cable-knit.

  ‘No wonder she left you, you look like an overheated canary.’

  ‘She’s here tonight. I thought it might help win her back.’

  ‘Good luck with that.’ Hattie shook her head.

  The pub was packed and noisy. With all the doors and windows open, and by using the extra space in the garden, a total of fifteen teams were ordering drinks and making themselves comfortable.

  Reggie stood behind a fully-staffed bar and grinned when he saw Hattie. ‘The Mud Maulers are waiting for you in the snug,’ he said. ‘Get your laughing gear round this, you’re going to need it.’ He handed her a gin and tonic.

  Hattie took a slug of her drink. She thrust her chest out, straightened her back and with a wink to Reggie, went in search of her team. As she stepped into the snug a cheer went up.

  ‘Over here!’ A group of likely looking lads, all pub regulars, of various ages from eighteen to eighty, beckoned Hattie to their corner. ‘Drinks are on us.’ Hattie stared at a line of glasses on the table.

  ‘Settle down,’ Hattie said and eased her way into the centre of the throng. ‘Are we in it to win it?’ she asked and picked up a pen.

  ‘You bet we are!’ The Mud Maulers chorused.

  ‘A little bit of hush in the corner, please.’ Silence fell as John, the quiz master circulated. He wore a shirt with pink flowers and tight white jeans. Tapping the microphone in his hand, he said, ‘Testing – one, two, three, quiet now, luvvies, can everyone hear me?’

  ‘Loud and clear, Trivia Newton John, get on with it.’ Derek Jones sat at a table by the bar with his team.

  ‘I don’t want to see any mobile phones,’ John said. ‘Please pop them in your pockets.’ He looked around, his heavily mascaraed eyes searched for any offending objects. ‘Any cheating will result in instant disqualification.’

  Silence fell as the teams huddled together and the quiz began.

  ‘We’ll start with a picture round,’ John said. ‘You’ve all got pictures of birds on a piece of paper on your table and you’ve ten minutes to name them. Write your answers down.’

  ‘Toucan play at this game,’ Alf said and was hushed by his army, which consisted of Judy and the two labourers who were helping to build the conservatory, and Grace, who’d arrived late.

  ‘She flies like a bird in the sky, aye, aye…’ one of the Mud Maulers sang as he drained his pint, to be elbowed in the ribs by Hattie.

  Quizzers whispered to each other as their captains wrote down their answers, hands covering their papers for fear of being copied.

  ‘Blue tit!’ Harry called out. He’d abandoned the Red-Hot Trivia Peppers and joined forces with the Naughty Nurses, captained by Janine.

  ‘Pipe down, Harry,’ Janine said, ‘and for goodness sake get rid of the cable-knit, you’re embarrassing me.’

  ‘The next round is TV and Film,’ John said. ‘Now think carefully, who starred in “Men in Tights”?’

  ‘Derek Jones!’ the Mud Maulers yelled, ‘and he’s still wearing them.’

  The Red-Hot Trivia Peppers took to their feet in defence of their captain and, with menace, began to hurl beer mats in the heckler’s direction.

  ‘Settle down!’ John shouted. He held his hands high as a beer mat skimmed his head, slicing into his hair extensions.

  The questions continued and heads bobbed and nodded, as answers were discussed. The competitors worked their way through subjects that included Art & Literature, True or False and culminated in a music round. There was some interesting discussion when John played twenty seconds of a foreign language, Arabic version, of a Dolly Parton hit. Roger, who was captaining a team of elderly ladies from the fete committee, thought he knew the answer.

  ‘Dolly does Dubai!’ Roger called out but he was hastily silenced and told to write it down by his King Solomon’s Wives.

  ‘That’s all for now, boys and girls,’ John said as he collected each team’s answers and, before distributing them randomly for marking, told his audience that there would be a short break. Quizzers fell on the bar, keen to neck back a few pints before working out how to bugger up their opponent’s answers.

  As the noise levels in the pub rose and someone put a selection of music on the juke box, Hattie circulated amongst the teams. She smiled as she passed, Here 4 The Beer and Les Quizerables, two teams from the next village, and gave a thumbs up to Agatha Quizty, a group of pensioners from Penrith. ‘Nice to see you back, Hattie!’ they called out and raised glasses of Guinness. Joan and Arnie, heading up Sex, Drugs & Sausage Rolls, had joined forces with the chemist and other shopkeepers and Joan was busy distributing a box of stale fancies, to keep them all going during the break.

  Harry had removed his sweater and creased shirt and with his ongoing endeavour to impress Janine, now wore a borrowed t-shirt with the logo, “I Thought This Was Speed Dating”. He’d edged close to his ex-girlfriend and Hattie gave him a thumbs-up as she wandered past.

  Determined to fulfil her mission of speaking to John and Camilla, Hattie went out to the garden. She found them with Venetia and Marjorie, sitting at a picnic bench amongst the outside quizzers. Reggie had rigged a speaker up to enable everyone to hear John from inside the pub and one table was taking bets on which team was the likely winner. Hattie glanced at the odds and saw that Tequila Mockingbird, Marjorie’s team, was a firm favourite.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Hattie
asked. She noted a half-empty bottle of tequila in front of John and Camilla and two shot glasses. Marjorie and Venetia were drinking sparkling water.

  ‘A piece of piss,’ Camila slurred and, staring straight at Marjorie, stuck out her tongue. ‘John and I have correctly guessed all the answers with no help from thezze two…’ She garbled her words and Hattie realised that Camilla was completely sloshed. ‘Venizia Vesuvius is about to erupt and Saint Marjoram is falling out of her frock.’ Camilla wagged her finger at Venetia and Marjorie.

  Venetia stood up. She was red in the face and furious. ‘I’m not going to sit here and be insulted by this silly girl,’ she hissed at her husband. ‘Either you put her in a taxi and send her home, or I’ll take a taxi and leave now.’

  But John had drunk a large quantity of the tequila and was mellow as he replied, ‘You go home, dear, I want to see who’s won the quiz, as I’ve had a little wager on it.’ He smiled at Venetia through half-closed eyes and watched her storm off.

  Marjorie stood too. She tugged on the hem of her dress and turned to Hattie. ‘I think I’ll head off; you were quite right about this outfit, it’s completely inappropriate.’ She looked at the group of Mud Maulers, who’d come outside for a smoke. They eyed Marjorie with interest.

  ‘I think Camilla might land me one, too,’ Marjorie whispered and looked anxiously at her drunken stepdaughter, whose pale grey dress had ridden high up her long shapely legs.

  Hattie watched her neighbour sashay through the garden, accompanied by wolf-whistles, and jump into her car. Venetia was standing by the kerb waiting for John and when she realised that he wasn’t following her, she flagged Marjorie down and got in the little sports car. Marjorie put pedal to the metal and shot off, to loud cheers from the Mud Maulers.

  John and Camilla were alone.

  Seizing the opportunity, Hattie slid onto the bench opposite the pair and gave them her best smile. ‘It’s a lovely night, mind if I join you for a drink before I go back in?’