Old Age Private Oh My! (Old Age Pensioner Investigations (OAPI) Cozy Mysteries Book 2)

by A. W. Blakely

  "Right, in you go, Spider."

  Spider looked at Stanley, then the back seat and the cramped remaining space. "Seriously?"

  "Did you have something else in mind? You want to sit on the roof?"

  "How about the front seat?"

  "You're a fourteen-year-old. I'm in my sixties and I've had a hip replacement, but you want me to sit in the back while you get a seat to yourself?" What was with this boy?

  "Fine. Whatever." Spider made a show of folding his lanky frame into the back of the car and huffed as he plonked himself down. He put his seatbelt on, then fished out some gizmo from his jeans pocket. Soon, his head was buried, staring at the screen and chuckling to himself, ignoring everything else.

  "Thought they were broke?"

  "It's probably on contract, Dad. Not that expensive, really. Everyone has a phone connected to the Web these days," said Kate as she helped fasten his seatbelt.

  "I can do it myself now, thanks." Stanley knew she meant well, but now his hip was better he wanted to return to his independence, even though he'd appreciated the help no end before and after the operation.

  "Sorry."

  "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap, it's just..."

  Kate smiled and glanced back at Spider. "Yeah, I know. Come on, let's go meet our client."

  With a rev of the engine, and a spluttering of smoke, Kate crunched into first gear. They were off. Stanley tried to zone out of the madness that was Kate's driving, and ignore it when she applied her lipstick, honked at cyclists, and generally terrorized the village.

  Soon they were on the larger A-road and he relaxed a little. The space allowed him to open his eyes and not stress so much about killing cyclists, so they talked about the case.

  Kate had managed to do a little research after she went home the previous evening, and the more she'd learned, the more intrigued she became. It was a very strange situation, and definitely a serious business.

  A father and a brother, both killed, seemingly for no apparent reason. The police had got nowhere and the woman that had booked them, Denise Everwood, had made TV appearances to ask for help, and done newspaper interviews, both local and national, but it seemed like the case was cold—no leads. Denise had gone into little detail in her online interviews, just the basics, so Stanley was hoping a meeting in person would shed some light on the whole mysterious incident.

  And besides, she'd paid the retainer, would cover fuel and other expenses, and under Kate's orders he'd upped the price per hour to a rather respectable thirty pounds. It seemed like extortion to Stanley, but Kate had assured him it was still well below the going rate for a private eye. He felt a little guilty at charging so much—after all, they were novices to say the least—but she'd said that it created a better impression to charge a proper amount than to do it too cheaply as then people would assume they really were amateurs. Which they were.

  "So what actually happened? Where were they found, and how were they killed?" Stanley really hoped he wasn't in over his head. It was hard not to have doubts when here they were, an old age pensioner and his daughter-cum-secretary in a Mini Cooper, with a flatulent Labrador, and a sulky teenager off to meet someone who was paying them good money to solve a double murder. What were they doing?

  "According to the newspaper articles," Kate paused to honk her horn and make a gesture Stanley knew wasn't a wave, "Denise came home from bingo one night to find that her father and brother were missing. She didn't think much off it to start, assuming they were just out, but they never came home. They were eventually found in one of the woods at the outskirts of town. They were dead."

  "Jeez, how awful," said Stanley.

  "Were their heads bashed in?" Spider leaned forward from the back, eyes eager.

  "I thought you were playing on your phone or something?" said Stanley, sure he'd never seen the boy so excited.

  "I wasn't playing, I was on Twitter."

  "Same thing. Anyway, don't be so happy about the gore."

  "You're a fine one to talk," said Kate.

  "That's different."

  "How, Stanley?" asked Spider.

  "It just is. Now, Kate, how were they killed?"

  Stanley and Spider leaned close waiting for the news.

  "Buried."

  "What? They were killed and then buried? In the woods?" asked Stanley.

  "No, they were buried alive. They died after being buried."

  "Oh my god, that is awful. I remember that. Didn't realize it was so close. I remember thinking at the time it would have been interesting to be on the case. But I never heard much afterward. I assumed it had all been figured out." Stanley couldn't imagine anything worse than to be buried alive. What a way to go.

  "That is so cool," said Spider.

  Kate and Stanley turned to stare at the boy, aghast. "Cool? They were buried alive," said Kate.

  "You know what I mean. Um, interesting and stuff." Spider leaned back, clearly realizing he'd been talking rather than moping and doing what he did best—ignoring everyone.

  "Kate, look out!" Stanley pointed at the car just ahead. Kate was so close he could see the look of horror on the driver's face reflected in his rearview mirror.

  Kate swerved into the middle lane, scowled at the man, overtook him and resumed her rally driving. "Amateur."

  "Keep your eye on the road," admonished Stanley. "Are we there yet?"

  "Haha, very funny. But it won't be long, a few more miles."

  "Okay, just be careful." Stanley remained silent for a few minutes, leaving Kate to "focus" on driving. He wondered how on earth two grown men had been buried alive. What could have happened to lead to such a terrible death? And what about the daughter and sister left alive, did she live with them?

  "How old is this woman, Kate?"

  "Eh? Oh, early thirties I think. I'd have to check my notes, they're in my bag."

  "No! Don't worry," Stanley said hurriedly before Kate had the chance to reach behind her to get her bag that seemingly never had a bottom and she lugged about with her everywhere.

  "Okay, If you're sure?"

  "I'm sure. Now about this buried alive business."

  Bit Rough, Isn't She?

  For the remainder of the journey, Kate filled Stanley, and an increasingly lively and interested Spider, in on the background details she had discovered. The murder had hit the news, but as was always the case, crime continued and even in a small town like Mackle there were new stories to be pursued. Still, Stanley was pleased to have a crack at it. Imagine the boost to business if he could solve something even the police couldn't.

  Denise Everwood was a thirty-something who had moved back into the family home after leaving another in quite a long string of failed relationships. The mother had died years ago, and she had moved out before then, but returned every so often when things didn't work out. It was her father and brother who lived in the house, the brother seemingly having never left.

  She'd gone to bed with them still not home, nothing out-of-the-ordinary, and a regular occurrence by the seems of it, both men off doing their own thing or sometimes going to the pub together.

  When they still weren't home the following morning, she'd become worried and reluctantly called the police. From the reports, it seemed like she'd been rather close-lipped about the men, and wasn't too keen on talking to the police at all. But after another day she'd finally given them permission to check the house—the search was fruitless.

  Then, a few days later, somebody had reported a white van in the woods that the caller had seen for the second time while walking his dog. The police had investigated. The van had been stolen, but there were no fingerprints apart from the two missing men's, and so the area had been searched. It had taken a day or two though, as apparently the two men weren't the most liked of people by the police—there had been run-ins in the past, and although nothing too serious, they had a bit of a reputation so it was automatically assumed they'd got into trouble and run off.

  Finally, aft
er a none-too-extensive search of the surrounding woods, a disturbed patch of ground was found and a large, shallow grave uncovered. In two wooden coffins, with the lids nailed down, were the bodies of the men. Reports from officers that had prized the lids open in a panic, said that there was blood over the insides of the lids. The men's fingers were scratched down to the bone from trying to claw their way out, and the look on their faces had given the officers nightmares—one of them had to seek counseling and had taken weeks off work.

  All in all, a very gruesome business.

  "So, be kind. And tactful," said Kate, the brakes protesting against the force of her foot on the pedal as she came to a halt outside a rather badly maintained house on the outskirts of Mackle.

  "Me! I'm nothing but tactful," said Stanley. "Would you look at this place. Bit rough, isn't it? Why can't people look after their houses properly? Look at the state of the garden!"

  "Dad!"

  "What? Just saying."

  "So much for tact."

  As Stanley got out of the car, he looked at the front of the house. The windows were filthy, there was cardboard at an upstairs one where a pane was split in two, the top half missing, and the net curtains were yellow they were in such dire need of washing. The front garden was little more than overgrown grass, with three cars partially on the drive but spilling onto the lawn in various states of mechanical dismemberment.

  To top it off, there was a high, chain-link fence around the whole front of the terraced house, with a very angry looking, and loud, Alsatian barking its head off at them as they stood on the curb.

  "Blimey, it's like something out of a gangland movie," said Stanley.

  "I think it's interesting," said Kate, sounding entirely unconvincing.

  "Why don't you go and knock the door then?"

  "Um, maybe I'll just give her a call. Tell her we're here." Kate opened her magic bag and fished around for her phone, finding it miraculously fast considering how much she carried around with her.

  "Think she did it?" asked Spider, somehow now stood next to them with Roobarb on the lead, looking less than happy about the dog the other side of the fence.

  "What? Eh? Oi, you're supposed to wait in the car with Roobarb."

  "He was getting hot. It's dangerous to leave dogs in cars. They could die."

  "Not when there's someone in there with them to make sure they are okay, and the windows are open," said Stanley.

  "Yeah, well, I wanted to stretch my legs. Roobarb too. Well?"

  "Well, what?"

  "Reckon she did it? Reckon the sister, um, daughter, drugged them and buried them alive?" Spider put his hand through his greasy black hair and peered suspiciously at the front of the house.

  "Don't be daft, you silly bugger. She wouldn't be asking for our help if she did it, now would she?"

  "Might be a double bluff. You know, it's all like, 'Oh, no, it couldn't be me, as I am the one that hired the really old detective.' It's a classic move."

  "Why you cheeky bugger. I'll have you know—"

  "She'll be out in a minute," said Kate.

  "Good. The sooner we talk to her, the sooner we can begin. And what's with you anyway, Spider? Thought you couldn't string more than two words together?"

  Spider looked angry for a moment, then something changed. He looked sad, letting the veneer down. "I'm just trying to stay out of Mum's way. She's having a hard time of it lately. That bloody landlord—"

  "Language," scolded Stanley.

  "That landlord has been making her life a misery. It's like he's trashing the place on purpose."

  "What? What do you mean?" Stanley turned as he caught sight of the door opening. "Later, we'll talk about this later." Spider shrugged, back to his old self.

  Stanley pulled his cap down and zipped up his waterproof, wishing he could have a smoke before meeting the client. The drizzle was light, but one of those rains that seemed to soak you through, even though it hardly seemed wet at all. The early morning sun was well and truly gone—in other words, typical English weather.

  "Be nice," whispered Kate before smiling and waving.

  "God, look at the state of her."

  "Dad!"

  "Well, she doesn't look the type to do a lot of running. Why has she got a tracksuit on?"

  "It's what people wear, Uncle Stan," said Spider.

  "Blimey. Did you just call me Uncle? And what's with the Stan?"

  "Thought maybe I'd better start calling you Uncle, if that's okay?"

  "Course it is. Not sure about the Stan bit, but it's an improvement." Stanley ruffled Spider's hair, really wishing he hadn't. He wiped his hand on his corduroys and tried to look suitably like a private defective as Denise Everwood shouted at the dog then walked up to the chain-link gate and said, "You the private eye?" to Stanley.

  "Yes, ma'am. That's me. Stanley Bloom, of Old Age Pensioner Investigations, although if I may say so, you are certainly not a pensioner yourself. Most of our customers are of the older generation. It's our niche." Stanley cringed at the word, but Kate had drummed it into him that it was their selling point. "Ow!" He turned to Kate as she jabbed him in the ribs.

  "Yeah, well, you were the cheapest."

  Kate gave him a knowing look. Stanley shrugged. "May I introduce my assistant, Kate, and, sorry about this, but this is my nephew, George."

  "Spider."

  Stanley glared at Spider. "And that's Roobarb. Is your dog safe?"

  "What, him? Haha, he's all bark. Quiet, Satan." The dog slunk off into a kennel that was nice and large. Stanley noted that the garden was actually very clean apart from the cars. There was no dog mess, lots of water bowls, and toys for the dog. Soon he was laying by his kennel chewing on a Kong toy contentedly. "Lemme open the gate."

  Denise opened the gate and ushered them in. Roobarb kept close to Spider as they followed Denise to the front door. Stanley noted it was filthy, and knew Babs would have had a fit if she'd seen it. "Come on in. Sorry about the mess. I'm a bit behind on the cleaning."

  "A bit! Ow." Stanley glared at Kate, but she glared right back. She won.

  Denise didn't appear to have heard and ushered them inside. "Bring the dog in, he's fine. Fancy a cuppa?"

  Once they agreed, they were shown into the living room, waiting while Denise prepared the tea. Stanley took off his coat and wondered what it must be like to live in a house where you could wear your shoes, walk into the living room with your coat on, and not even have to wipe the dog's feet. He supposed it would be like this.

  The room was messy. There were ashtrays overflowing, and a TV took up way too much space. There were games consoles and more cases than could be healthy. Stanley didn't know much about computer games, but he knew they were damn expensive. There must have been a small fortune piled on top of a... What was it? An X-box, with the pile of games spilling over onto the floor. Did women play video games?

  His musings were interrupted by Denise. "Here we go." She brushed aside magazines from the table, putting down a tray with four mugs of tea. Instantly, she lit up a cigarette then said, "Oh, where's my manners?" and offered the pack to Stanley then Kate then Spider.

  "Oi, hands off," said Kate as Spider went to take one.

  "What? I was just being polite."

  "And fourteen," said Stanley.

  "I started at twelve," said Denise.

  "Now, Denise," said Stanley, trying to pull himself together and get into private eye mode. "You say you chose us because we are cheap. Normally, we take on older clients, but seeing as it's you we'll make an exception. Can you walk us through what happened? I know it must be painful but we need some details. Kate?" Stanley nodded to Kate, who went straight into assistant mode.

  She pulled out her pad and pen and stared eagerly at Denise.

  Stanley found it hard to focus. He couldn't understand why she had a white tracksuit on, and for some reason it looked like it was made of a kind of toweling. Surely that would be hot to run in? And besides, she was about forty pounds over
weight and her trainers and tracksuit were again doing that weird advertising thing he found impossible to understand. Yes, he was an old man and out of touch with the latest trends. But really?

  "It ain't a pretty story, I can tell you that," said Denise, taking a long drag on her cigarette, then flicking ash that missed the ashtray and sizzled in someone's tea.

  Stanley grabbed a cup before they all had ash toppings and sipped on it, nodding like he thought a professional would. "Ooh, nice tea. Two sugars?"

  "Gotta have sugar, no point otherwise."

  Stanley was warming to her already. "Now, what happened?"

  "They were murdered. But I dunno why. They never came home, did they, and I called the coppers but they did nothing. They just gave up. Someone buried my poor dad and brother alive. Horrible, just horrible." Another cup of tea got the ash treatment. Spider didn't notice and grabbed a cup and sipped, eyes glued to Denise, leaning forward, clearly waiting for the gory bits.

  "Did they say it took long?" he asked.

  "George, any more—"

  "Spider."

  "Fine. Spider, don't interrupt. Leave the questions to Kate and me. Now, please carry on."

  "I don't know who would want to do it. They were good men really. A little hot-headed, got into trouble now and then, but you know, nothing a bloke wouldn't do. Just the usual stuff. Nothing to get them killed or anything."

  "Like what? What kind of thing did they do for money? What sort of illegal things were they involved in?" asked Stanley.

  "Nothing, like I said."

  Kate took over. "Denise, we are here to help, we really are. And we aren't the police. I assume that's why you hired us?"

  Stanley knew it was a good idea to have Kate work with him, she always asked the best questions.

  "Okay, they may have been a bit dodgy. But nothing that would get them killed, like I said. They were bouncers. Worked together on Friday and Saturday at Ritzy's in town. Did a bit of, you know, out of the back of a van kind of stuff to make ends meet."