The Mum Detective

by Gwyneth Rees

  ‘Esmie, that’s crazy!’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ I said defensively. ‘It would explain why he acted so weirdly when Jennifer wanted to find her mum. And it would explain why he forged that letter too. If anyone got suspicious about her disappearing, that letter would make it seem like she was still alive.’

  ‘Except that he didn’t disguise his handwriting very well,’ Holly pointed out.

  ‘Yes, but he didn’t think it would be read by a handwriting expert, did he?’

  ‘Like you, you mean?’ Holly sounded like she was mocking me. ‘Esmie, I think you’re getting a bit carried away with all this detective stuff. There could easily be another explanation for those letters being written by the same person, and for Jennifer’s dad never wanting to talk about her mum.’

  ‘Like what?’ I demanded huffily.

  ‘Well . . .’ She sounded quite excited now. ‘There was a programme on TV a couple of nights ago about people who’ve had sex-change operations. I’ve been thinking . . . What if Jennifer’s mum had a sex-change operation and became a man when Jennifer was still a baby? Maybe she didn’t know how to explain it to Jennifer so she thought the easiest way was to pretend she was her dad instead?’

  ‘Holly, don’t be stupid!’ I burst out.

  ‘I’m not being stupid! I happen to think it’s important for a detective to keep an open mind at all times.’ Holly was speaking in her most confident, know-it-all voice, and for a moment I felt as if she was Sherlock Holmes and I was only Doctor Watson.

  ‘It’s also important for a detective to have good observation skills,’ I retaliated. ‘And you obviously haven’t noticed that Jennifer’s father has got really broad shoulders, really big hands and that he’s quite hairy. And that makes it very unlikely that he was a woman.’

  ‘That could be because of hormone therapy,’ Holly said promptly. ‘I read all about that in one of Mum’s magazines.’

  Fortunately, the doorbell rang at that point and I told her I had to go. I nearly wet myself when I looked through the window to see who it was though. It was Mr Mitchell, looking very big and very unshaven, so either he was definitely a man or he’d had an awful lot of hormone therapy. Dad still hadn’t got to speak to him on the phone because, whenever he’d tried to, Mr Mitchell had been out – or at least he had been according to Jennifer, who had answered the phone each time he’d rung. I could only guess that Mr Mitchell had decided to come round to speak to Dad in person.

  I was all alone in the house. When I’d got back from my secret trip in Lizzie’s car, followed by the bus ride home again, I’d found our house completely empty and I’d only been able to get in because I’d got my key with me. I knew where Dad and Lizzie were, of course, but Matthew had told Dad that he would stay at home with me that morning so I had expected him to be there when I got back.

  There was no way I was opening the door to Mr Mitchell now.

  He rang the bell a few more times, then turned and left.

  I was making myself a drink in the kitchen a few minutes later, when I heard a banging on the back door and Matthew’s voice calling, ‘Esmie? Are you in there?’

  I opened the door straight away. Matthew and Jennifer were standing there. Jennifer was holding a big blue holdall. ‘Jennifer, your dad was just here—’ I began.

  ‘We know,’ Matthew interrupted me. ‘That’s why we came round the back. Jennifer’s run away and she’s going to stay here for a bit.’

  ‘Run away?’ I gasped, staring at Jennifer. ‘Why? I mean . . . did he do something to you?’ I was imagining Jennifer’s dad losing his temper and pushing her now – or worse.

  ‘I’m so sorry for the way I acted the other day, Esmie,’ Jennifer said. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about those letters after you’d gone, and last night I asked Dad about that letter from my mum and the thing is . . . he admitted that he did write it!’

  I stared at her, too stunned to speak. Whatever I’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that.

  ‘Dad says he thought it would make me feel better when I got older if I had a nice letter from my mother saying that she hadn’t wanted to leave me behind and that I was really precious to her and everything. So he wrote that letter and pretended it was from her.’

  I was still silent. I mean, what could you say in answer to that? I certainly couldn’t just blurt out that I was pretty certain he was lying and that his real reason for forging that letter had been much more sinister.

  ‘Anyway, when he told me that, I decided I didn’t want to contact her after all – not right now, anyway – so I phoned Matty this morning to ask him to email that Internet missing-persons agency again and tell them to forget it.’ She looked at my brother. ‘And I also wanted to tell him I was sorry about what I said before. Well, Dad heard me on the phone and went ballistic! We had a terrible row. I told him I was going to carry on seeing Matthew whether he liked it or not. He said I was grounded and I wasn’t allowed out of the house. So I phoned Matthew from my mobile afterwards and told him I was running away.’

  ‘I went to meet her at the bottom of her road,’ Matthew explained. ‘I couldn’t find you anywhere in the house to tell you. Where were you, Esmie?’

  ‘I just popped out for a few minutes,’ I mumbled. Then, to stop him asking any more questions, I added quickly. ‘Do you really think Dad’ll let Jennifer move in with us?’

  ‘Jennifer’s sixteen, so she’s legally allowed to choose where she wants to live, so it should be cool.’

  ‘You reckon?’ I could almost hear Dad pointing out in his most sarcastic voice that since he was also over sixteen, he was legally allowed to choose who it would be cool to have living in his house with him.

  ‘He won’t kick her out once he’s heard how horrible her dad was to her,’ Matthew added.

  ‘Why? What did he do?’

  ‘It’s what he said!’ Jennifer answered. ‘Really nasty things. He really scared me. He said he’d skin Matthew alive if he caught him with me again and he yelled all this horrible stuff at me, about how I was just like my mother . . .’ She sniffed.

  ‘Your mother?’ I couldn’t think about Jennifer’s mother now without thinking about that skeleton with the broken arm. ‘I guess your dad didn’t like your mum very much, huh?’

  ‘Not after she walked out on him – no!’

  ‘What about before that?’ I was trying to sound casual, though really I had slipped into full detective mode. ‘Did they row a lot?’

  ‘Shut it, Esmie.’ Matthew glared at me like he thought I was being really insensitive. ‘Lizzie’ll be back soon,’ he grunted, glancing at the kitchen clock. ‘We won’t say anything about Jennifer staying until Dad gets back. I’ll tell him when he’s had something to eat and a glass of wine and he’s in a good mood. I’ll tell him, Esmie, OK? I don’t want you opening your big mouth and doing it!’

  ‘OK! OK!’ I grumbled. Though I don’t reckon I’ve got a big mouth at all.

  We were upstairs settling Jennifer into Juliette’s old room when the doorbell rang again. We knew it couldn’t be Dad or Lizzie because they both had keys.

  ‘Let’s just leave it,’ Matthew said as he headed through to Dad’s room to get some spare sheets out of the airing cupboard.

  ‘Esmie, do you think your dad’ll be angry because Matthew’s invited me to stay?’ Jennifer asked me after he’d gone.

  ‘Probably,’ I answered. ‘But don’t worry – his bark’s worse than his bite. He’ll calm down after he’s yelled for a bit.’

  ‘Unlike my Dad then.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ I asked, having a sudden vision of Jennifer’s father sporting enormous white fangs and swooping down on Jennifer’s mother to bite her in the jugular vein. And of course a bite mark wouldn’t show up on a skeleton. I quickly told myself I had to get a grip. After all, this was real life, not an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

  ‘It’s just that my dad isn’t a very calm person,’ Jennifer answered.

  ‘You know
, I wouldn’t worry so much about your dad, Jen . . .’ Matthew was saying as he came back into the room carrying some folded sheets and pillowcases. ‘Dads are all the same! You know when yours started ranting on about how he’d skin me alive if he caught me inside his house again? Well, that’s the sort of thing my dad comes out with all the time. They’re all mouth about what they’re going to do to you. They don’t mean any of it!’

  ‘Maybe Jennifer’s dad really would skin you alive,’ I muttered under my breath. After all, there was still that skeleton in the allotments to think about. I didn’t see how you could tell whether a skeleton’s skin was absent because it had rotted away naturally or for some other reason.

  My comment was drowned out by the doorbell ringing again – and this time it kept on ringing.

  ‘What if it’s Dad?’ Jennifer suddenly looked scared. ‘What if he’s found out I’m here?’

  ‘Someone had better answer the door,’ Matthew said, looking at me. ‘Go on, Esmie. If it’s Jennifer’s dad, just tell him you don’t know where we are.’

  ‘I’m not answering the door to him!’

  ‘It’s OK, Esmie,’ Jennifer said. ‘He’s not mad at you.’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ How could I tell them why I was just as scared of Jennifer’s father as they were? Just then the ringing stopped and we heard heavy footsteps on the gravel path that runs round the side of the house.

  ‘Did you lock the back door?’ Matthew asked me.

  ‘Why? Didn’t you lock it?’

  Matthew looked at Jennifer in alarm and I could tell he couldn’t remember whether he had or not.

  ‘Maybe I’d better just go down and speak to him,’ Jennifer said anxiously. ‘Before he gets even angrier.’

  ‘NO!’ I shrieked. ‘Come on! We’ve all got to lock ourselves in the bathroom!’

  Matthew and Jennifer clearly thought I was taking this a bit too far. ‘Esmie, he’s not going to murder us,’ my brother said impatiently.

  And that was too much for me. ‘You don’t know that!’ I screeched. ‘I heard Dad talking on the phone about that body they found. It sounds like Jennifer’s mum!’

  Jennifer’s eyes immediately turned into saucers and she just gaped at me. So did Matthew.

  Suddenly we heard the front door opening and Lizzie’s voice.

  ‘Lizzie!’ I yelled, running downstairs. And before I realized what was happening, I was running headlong into Jennifer’s dad as he stepped in through the door in front of her.

  I screamed. He jumped. Lizzie started asking what was the matter. I think I might have screamed again but I’m not sure. Lizzie hurriedly ushered Mr Mitchell into the living room as I ran into the kitchen and started looking for a weapon I could use in self-defence. ‘You’ve got to make him leave!’ I burst out as Lizzie joined me. ‘Please, Lizzie . . .’ I went and picked up our heaviest frying pan.

  I don’t know what went through Lizzie’s mind at that point, but she looked very worried and quickly left me again to go and speak to Mr Mitchell. ‘I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to leave at once, please,’ I heard her say. ‘I don’t know where your daughter is, but I do know that Esmie is very upset about something. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but I need you to go so that I can find out.’

  In the kitchen I held my breath, half-expecting him to refuse, but that didn’t happen. He said something in a quiet voice and Lizzie said something back and then she was showing him out.

  She came straight into the kitchen afterwards. ‘Esmie, what is it? What’s wrong? Where’s Matthew?’

  Where was Matthew? And why hadn’t he come downstairs to help me? Maybe he had decided to stay with Jennifer to protect her.

  ‘He’s upstairs,’ I gasped, lowering the frying pan.

  ‘Why are you so frightened?’

  I didn’t answer. I was still trembling.

  She stared at me for a moment or two, then frowned. ‘Esmie, come through to the living room with me and we’ll sit down and talk about it, OK?’ She put her arm round me as we walked through to the other room. I noticed that she shut the living-room door behind us as if she thought I might want to keep whatever I had to say private. ‘I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me anything, Esmie,’ she said gently as she sat down beside me on the sofa. She paused. ‘Has Jennifer’s father ever done anything to hurt you – or upset you – in any way?’

  I bit my lip. Should I tell her or shouldn’t I? I had told Holly and she hadn’t taken me seriously. What if Lizzie didn’t believe me either?

  Lizzie’s forehead was all bunched up. ‘Tell me, Esmie – whatever it is. I promise I’ll try and help. Just tell me, please . . .’

  And that’s when I decided to trust her. ‘I think that maybe . . . that maybe he might have . . .’ I sniffed. ‘I think he might have . . . killed Jennifer’s mum!’

  Lizzie gaped at me. She looked completely gobsmacked. ‘Esmie, what are you talking about?’

  ‘It might not have been on purpose,’ I added quickly. I told her how Jennifer’s dad had a really bad temper, and my theory about it being manslaughter rather than murder. I also told her about our hunt for Jennifer’s mother and how Jennifer’s dad had been so much against it. And I told her how Jennifer’s father had written a fake letter to Jennifer, pretending it was from her mum, and how I didn’t believe his explanation for that, though Jennifer seemed to. And lastly, I mentioned that Jennifer’s mum had broken her arm when she was pregnant. ‘And you know that dead body Dad’s investigating – the one they found on Jennifer’s dad’s allotments? Well, it’s got a broken arm too!’

  Lizzie listened to all of this, looking incredulous. When I got to the end, she asked, ‘How do you know it’s got a broken arm?’

  I flushed. How could I tell her that I’d overheard Dad talking when I’d been hiding in her car, trying to spy on her? ‘Dad told me,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Really?’ I could tell she found that hard to believe. She stayed silent for a few moments. I thought I heard a noise in the hall and I was about to ask Lizzie to check that the front door was still locked, when she said, ‘Esmie, have you told any of this to your father?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Well, I think you’d better. Esmie, there are lots of missing people out there. And lots of people with broken arms. So I really don’t think you should mention any of this to Matthew in case he says something to Jennifer which might—’ She stopped abruptly as she saw the look on my face. ‘You haven’t already said something?’

  I coloured even more. ‘Only just now when we were upstairs. I thought Jennifer’s dad was breaking in. I had to tell them he was dangerous so they’d hide from him.’

  ‘Them?’

  ‘Jennifer’s upstairs too.’

  Lizzie looked like she was trying very hard to get all this straight in her mind. ‘And you just told her . . . just now . . . that you think her dad might have murdered her mum?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t . . . e-exactly . . . say that,’ I stammered. Now that I was hearing Lizzie say it, I had to admit that it didn’t sound like the smartest thing to have just blurted out, especially as I was pretty sure that I hadn’t actually used the words, might have.

  ‘Come with me,’ Lizzie said, standing up. ‘Matthew! Jennifer!’ she called out when we reached the stairs, but there was no reply.

  Jennifer’s holdall was gone from the spare room and a note addressed to Dad had been left on Matthew’s bed.

  ‘Do you think they’ve both run away now?’ I asked in disbelief.

  ‘I hope not,’ Lizzie said, but she was looking very worried as she picked up the note and started to unfold it.

  You’d think that since Dad is a detective and used to having missing persons reported to him, he’d be cooler than most people when Lizzie phoned him up and told him about Matthew – especially as Matthew had only been missing for about ten minutes. But he wasn’t.

  He left his murder investigation and came straight home, and from the time he st
epped in through our front door all he did was panic. It was Lizzie who was the sensible one.

  ‘They can’t have gone far,’ she kept saying. ‘They’ve probably just gone to stay with a friend. I expect they’ll phone us soon – or even come home.’

  ‘Let me see that note again,’ Dad grunted. But all Matthew’s note said was that he and Jennifer were going away for a while and not to worry about them.

  Dad phoned Matthew’s mobile of course, but it was switched off. He left a pretty ranty message on it at first, then after he’d had time to get less angry and more worried, he phoned back and left a calmer one. In between his two calls to Matthew, he phoned Jennifer’s dad, but Mr Mitchell wasn’t in.

  In among all this phoning, Lizzie suggested I had better tell Dad everything that had been happening, so I had to tell him about Jennifer rowing with her dad and running away, and how Matthew had said she could stay here with us.

  ‘So why did they need to run off again?’ Dad asked.

  I flushed and said nothing.

  ‘Esmie mentioned something to Jennifer that might have got her a bit upset,’ Lizzie explained gently. ‘Tell him, Esmie.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I told her about the body in the allotments maybe being her mother.’

  ‘You told her what?’ Dad looked flabbergasted.

  I told him about Jennifer’s mum having a broken arm. ‘Just like your skeleton, Dad,’ I pointed out.

  ‘How do you know about that? We haven’t released that information to anybody yet!’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ I gasped. ‘Don’t you think you should? It might help jog the memories of the general public – like on Crimewatch!’

  ‘Thanks for the tip.’ He was glaring at me. ‘Now, answer my question.’

  I quickly tried to think up a way of telling him the truth, without telling him everything. ‘I overheard you talking about it on the phone,’ I began. ‘I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t listening on purpose. I . . . er . . . well, I was in the car.’