by Adele Abbott
There was no sign of Winky in my office, but I could hear his voice coming from behind the screen; he appeared to be talking to himself.
“This is Winky FM, broadcasting to felines across the UK. Stay tuned for the country’s coolest sounds.”
Huh?
I popped my head around the screen and discovered that he’d set up what looked like a mini sound studio. He was wearing a pair of headphones and was speaking into a microphone.
“The best of the feline charts is right here every day. And now, something that will get you dancing. One of my favourites: Mouser and the Trapbusters.” He threw a switch on the console in front of him.
I tapped him on the shoulder. “What’s going on here?”
He pulled off the headphones. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re running a radio station out of my office.”
“Correct. This, Jill, is Winky FM.”
“You can’t run a radio station from in here.”
“I already am.”
“Don’t you need a licence to do this kind of thing?”
“Pah, that’s just red tape. You worry way too much, Jill. Oh, and by the way, how did your attempt at decoupage go?”
How on earth did he know about that?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You were looking at the beginner’s guide to decoupage on YouTube.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because, after you’d left yesterday, I checked your browser history.”
“You had no right to do that.”
“So, how did it go? What did you make?”
“I didn’t make anything. I only watched the video out of curiosity.”
“You made a mess of it, didn’t you? Come on, tell me. What happened? You should bring it in to show me. I could do with a good laugh.”
***
Siegfried Topp, the manager of the Parkside Hotel, had kindly agreed to allow me to speak to Denise Black in his office.
“Thanks for agreeing to talk to me Denise.”
“That’s okay. I’m happy to help if I can.”
“I take it you remember the incident I’m investigating? The disappearance of a man from this hotel a couple of years ago?”
“Yes, I do. The first time I saw him was shortly after he’d checked in. I remember because I was walking down the corridor when I tripped and dropped a pile of towels onto the floor. Most guests would have just walked on by, but he stopped and helped me to pick them up. He was a real gentleman.”
“And you say that was shortly after he checked in?”
“Yes. He had his case with him and was on his way to his room.”
“How did he seem?”
“Fine. Once he knew I was okay, we both had a laugh at my mishap.”
“You said that was the first time you saw him. I take it from that you saw him again?”
“That’s right. Later that same day. He was coming out of his room with a woman.”
“I see. Had they booked in as a couple?”
“No, but that’s not particularly unusual.” She smiled. “That kind of thing happens a lot.”
“And was that the last time you saw him?”
“Yes. The next morning, the girl who’d been assigned to clean his room, came to tell me that it didn’t look as though anyone had spent the night in there. She wanted to know whether she still needed to clean it or not.”
“Isn’t that a little unusual?”
“A little, but it’s not totally unheard of. Sometimes people have one drink too many somewhere else and don’t make it back to the hotel. It does happen from time to time.”
“What happened next?”
“He should have checked out the following day, but he never did. His case and all his clothes were still in his room.”
“What about his bill?”
“He’d paid for the room in advance, and he hadn’t had any room service, or meals in the restaurant, so there was nothing additional to pay.”
“What do you do with a guest’s belongings when something like that happens?”
“We hold them somewhere safely until such time as the guest returns to claim them, but in this case, that never happened. He never came back.”
“Was that a first?”
“The only other time I remember it happening was when a guest skipped out without paying.”
“I assume the police paid a visit to the hotel after the man’s disappearance was reported?”
“Yes, but not until some time afterwards. Before that, we had a visit from his wife who came looking for him.”
“Was that the same woman you’d seen him with earlier?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
***
Back at the office, Winky was still behind the screen, playing at being a DJ. Thankfully I couldn’t hear the music, but I did have to put up with his inane patter.
“Fans of Winky FM, do I have a special treat for you. Tomorrow I’ll be interviewing Washbridge’s leading authority on decoupage. Yes, you heard it right. I will be talking to none other than Jill Maxwell.”
I jumped out of my chair and rushed behind the screen.
“I’m not going on your stupid radio show!”
He pulled off his headphones and laughed. “Relax, I’m not even on air at the moment. I was only winding you up. And besides, my listeners are way too cool for decoupage.”
“I’m not in the mood for your practical jokes. They’re not the least bit funny.”
“Maybe not, but I bet whatever you tried to decoupage yesterday was hilarious. Come on Jill, you have to bring it in for me to see.”
“I’ve already told you. I didn’t make anything.”
“If you won’t bring it in, will you at least take a photo of it?”
“There’s nothing to take a photo of.”
“I know you’re lying. I’ll make it my business to find out what you made.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
“So you admit there is something?”
“What? No, I don’t! And I don’t want to hear another word about decoupage. It’s a stupid hobby, anyway.”
A few minutes later, Mrs V popped her head around the door.
“Your brother’s here. He wondered if you could spare him a minute.”
I hadn’t been expecting a visit from Martin. In fact, I’d been under the impression that he’d gone away for the week.
“Okay, send him in, please.”
He walked into the office, carrying the largest bouquet of flowers I’d ever seen.
“Hi, Martin. I didn’t think you were in Washbridge this week.”
“I’m here, but I’ll be tied up in the evenings. That’s why I couldn’t meet up with you and Kathy until next week. You don’t mind me popping in like this, do you?”
“Actually Martin, and I don’t mean to be rude, I am rather busy at the moment. It would have been better if you’d called in advance.”
“Sorry, Jill. It’s just that I’m still excited at the idea of having a sister.” He handed me the flowers. “These are for you.”
“Thanks, they’re beautiful.”
He hesitated, then said, “I might be picking up the wrong signals, but I get the feeling you’re still a little uneasy about our relationship. It’s almost as though you don’t trust me.”
“Okay, let me put my cards on the table. Until recently, I didn’t even know you existed. And although I’m really pleased that you’re in my life now, I do think that you need to dial it back a little. It’s all a bit too much for me.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll get going. I can see you’re busy.”
“Hang on. I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you were right. I’ve been coming on way too strong. I’ll see you next week.” And with that, he left.
I was still staring at the door when Winky popped his head around the screen.
“How could you treat your long-lost brother like that?”
“He caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting him to call in like that.”
“And he bought you flowers, too. What a horrible person he is.”
“Stop it, Winky. I feel bad enough already. There’s no need for you to stick the boot in.”
“He does look like you, though. Tough break.”
Just then, Mrs V walked into the office. “Is your brother all right, Jill? He was really bubbly when he arrived, but just now, when he left, he looked quite upset.”
Oh bum!
I was still feeling guilty about the way I’d treated Martin, when I magicked myself over to GT. At the request of Yvonne, I was going to talk to Madge Rumbelow.
You know those charming little cottages that you see on the lids of biscuit tins at Christmas? Well, Madge’s cottage was nothing like that. The place was practically falling to pieces: The thatched roof had holes in it, the garden was overgrown, and the window frames looked like they hadn’t seen a lick of paint for decades. I tried to knock by using the metal doorknocker, but it seemed to have rusted closed, so I had to hammer on the door with my hand. After a few moments, a lovely old lady with red cheeks and bright blue eyes came to the door.
“Yes, young lady. What can I do for you?”
“Are you Mrs Rumbelow?”
“That’s right. Who are you, dear?”
“My name is Jill Maxwell. Yvonne, who works at Cakey C, asked me to come and see you.”
“You must be the private investigator lady. Do come inside. You’ll have to excuse the place, it’s a little untidy at the moment.”
That was something of an understatement. The house wasn’t dirty—in fact, it appeared to be spotlessly clean, but it was incredibly untidy. There were piles of papers, numerous boxes, and all manner of things in the hallway. And the lounge was pretty much the same. It was hard to imagine how anyone managed to clean around the piles of junk.
“Find a seat, if you can,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to tidy up for a couple of days.”
Couple of days? Couple of years more like.
“I’ll go and make us a nice cup of tea. How do you take yours? Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“It’s Jill. Milk with two-thirds spoonfuls of sugar, please.”
“Right you are, and please call me Madge.” She disappeared out of the room, and I could hear pots clattering in the kitchen. A couple of minutes later she came back. “I’m sorry, dear. Did you say you do take milk?”
“Yes, please.”
“And no sugar, wasn’t it?”
“Just a little sugar, please.”
She scuttled off again, and a couple of minutes later came back, carrying a tray with just one cup on it.
“I’m sorry, dear, I seem to have forgotten your drink.” Once again, she scooted back into the kitchen. When she returned, she handed me a cup of tea, which clearly had no milk in it.
“Thank you, Madge.” I took a sip, and it was so sweet that it was undrinkable. She must have put half a packet of sugar in it.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have any biscuits, Jean. I seem to have misplaced them.”
“It’s Jill, and don’t worry about it. The tea’s fine. Yvonne tells me that you’ve had some jewellery go missing.”
At this point, I was beginning to wonder if the jewellery really had gone missing or if she’d just misplaced it amongst all the jumble.
“That’s right. Two items, actually.”
“Is it possible you could have misplaced them, Madge?”
“Absolutely not. I keep all my jewellery in the jewellery box.”
“Okay. Would you describe them to me?”
After she’d done that, I continued, “Was there any sign of a break-in?”
“No, nothing at all.”
“What about visitors? Do you have many?”
“My family of course. And then there’s Mrs Grimes.”
“Who’s she?”
“The cleaner. She comes in about once a fortnight.”
Mrs Grimes certainly earned her money having to clean that place.
“Any other visitors, Madge?”
“There’s Mr Green. He’s the gardener, but he rarely comes inside the house.”
“Do you think you could let me have contact details for Mrs Grimes and Mr Green?”
“Yes, dear. I’ll go and jot them down for you now.”
Chapter 8
I made my way to 47 Poltergeist Road, the home of Mrs Grimes, Madge’s cleaning lady. I was intrigued to meet the woman who was somehow able to keep Madge’s house so clean, despite the fact there was junk piled up all over the place.
I knocked on the door, but there was no response; she was probably out cleaning someone else’s house. I gave it one more try, and this time I heard footsteps inside.
“Hello? Who’s that?” A female voice came from the other side of the door.
“Hi. My name is Jill Maxwell. Is that Mrs Grimes?”
“Yes. What do you want?”
“I believe you clean house for Madge Rumbelow?”
She opened the door slowly. “That’s right. I do. Are you looking for someone to clean your house?”
“Actually, no. I was hoping for a few minutes of your time to discuss Madge.”
“What about her?”
“I don’t know if you’re already aware, but she’s had a few items of jewellery go missing recently.”
“If you think I’ve stolen them, you’re badly mistaken,” she snapped. “I’m as honest as the day is long. You can ask any of my customers.”
“No, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not here to accuse you of anything. I’d just like to ask you a few questions.”
“I can’t talk for long. I’m due at my next job in a few minutes.”
“Of course. I understand. How often do you clean for Madge?”
“Once a fortnight. Every other Friday.”
“It can’t be an easy house to clean. There’s so much clutter in there.”
“Tell me about it. It takes much longer than it should do.”
“Still, you make a very good job of it. As far as I could see, the house was spotless.”
“Yes, well, I take great pride in my work. You can ask any of my clients.”
“I believe you. Anyway, as I was saying, Madge has had some jewellery go missing, and as you’d expect, she’s quite upset.”
“I don’t blame her. I would be too. Ghost Town never used to be like this, you know. There was a time when you could leave your door open and not have to worry about it. Those days are gone, I’m afraid.”
“Quite. While I was with Madge, I couldn’t help but notice that she is a little bit forgetful.”
“You’re right there.” Mrs Grimes smiled for the first time. “Madge is a darling, but her memory isn’t what it used to be.”
“Do you think it’s possible that she might have misplaced the jewellery?”
“Anything’s possible in that house, but if she’d left it lying around, I would probably have seen it.”
“What about visitors to the house? Does she have many, would you know?”
“Not that I’ve seen, but then I’m only there for a few hours every two weeks.”
“Do you think it’s possible someone could have distracted her at the door while someone else sneaked inside?”
“It’s certainly possible. Madge is easily distracted as you’ve probably noticed.” Mrs Grimes checked her watch. “I’m sorry, but I really must get going now or I’ll be late for my next job.”
“Okay. Thanks for your help.” I handed her my card. “If you think of anything else that might help, please call me.”
My next port of call was at the home of Mr Green, Madge Rumbelow’s gardener. There was no response when I knocked on the door of his flat, and I was just about to walk away when one of his neighbours poked his head out of the door.
“Are you looking for Arthur?”
“Mr Green? Yes. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”
“He’ll be at work.”
“Right. I’ll have to call back later. Do you know what time he usually gets home?”
“Any time between five and seven. Mind you, he always works at Ghost Town Park on a Wednesday. You might catch him there if it’s urgent.”
“Thanks very much. I’ll give it a go.”
I’d never been to Ghost Town Park before, but it was simple enough to find, and much larger than the ones in Candlefield. Barry would have loved it.
It took me quite a while to track down Mr Green who I eventually found weeding the flower beds at the far side of the park.
“Mr Green?” I gave him a little wave.
“That’s me.”
“I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes?”
“I can always find time for a pretty young lady.”
“Thanks. I believe you work for Madge Rumbelow.”
“I do indeed. I visit her every three weeks, just to tidy her garden. It isn’t a big job; it doesn’t take very long. Is she all right?”
“Madge is fine. My name is Jill Maxwell. I’m a private investigator.”
“A private investigator, eh? I’m not in any trouble, am I?”
“No, nothing like that. Madge has had some jewellery go missing recently, so I’m talking to everyone who visits her house.”
“I see. Well I can promise you that I didn’t take it.” He grinned. “I don’t think her jewellery would suit me, do you?”
“I’m sure you didn’t. I just wondered if you’d seen anyone visit her house while you were working there? Anyone suspicious?”
“I can’t say that I have.” He hesitated. “Wait a minute, though. Now I come to think of it, I did see a white van parked out the front of her house last week while I was there. It was only there for a few minutes.”
“You don’t happen to know who it was, do you?”
“No, I’m sorry. I have no idea.”
“Okay, well thank you for your time. I mustn’t keep you from your work.”
“No problem, young lady. I hope you find Madge’s jewellery.”