by Adele Abbott
“If I’d wanted it cleaned by magic, I could have done it myself.”
“That’s what I said to Mirabel. I asked her why you didn’t do that. She said you were a strange one.”
“You know my grandmother?”
“Of course, dear. She was the one who put me onto the job in the first place.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”
Her face fell, and she looked on the verge of tears. “You were my last hope. I’ve been rather down on my luck lately. If I don’t bring in some money soon, I’ll be thrown out of the house. Me and Jeb.”
“Is Jeb your husband?”
“No. He’s my boa constrictor. I never had kids. Jeb is my little boy.”
Little? A boa constrictor?
“I suppose I’d better clear my things away.” She started for the door.
“Wait! Maybe we could give it a trial?”
“Really? Your grandmother said you were a little darling.”
“I thought she said I was ‘a strange one’?”
“She was only joking.”
“You can’t do any magic when Jack is around.”
“Of course. You can rely on Crustie.”
“And no more wine. Or chocolates.”
Chapter 8
The next morning, Jack was up before me, which was quite remarkable considering he still hadn’t got home when I’d gone to bed the previous night.
“I thought you’d have a lie in this morning.” I yawned.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Why were you so late last night?”
“We had a hostage situation.”
“What happened?”
“Just a domestic gone wrong. No one got hurt, thank goodness. It looked like it might get nasty for a while. The good news is that I’ve got this afternoon off.”
“How come?”
“I’m owed half a day, apparently. Do you fancy meeting up? We could check out that new mall.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get away. I’ve got a lot on at the moment.”
“Surely you could spare a few hours?”
“I guess so. It’s that ‘Big’ day promotion at Coffee Triangle today. We could check that out first.”
“What’s going on there?”
“No idea. It’s all very mysterious.”
“Okay. Will you give me a call later to confirm?”
“Sure.”
“I see my new cleaner did an excellent job yesterday.” He sounded very smug.
“Not bad.”
“Come on, Jill, admit it. My Mrs Crustie is better than your Mrs Mopp.”
“Okay. Your Mrs Crustie is magic. Happy now?
***
Mr Ivers was in the toll booth.
“Morning, Jill.” He seemed to be standing awkwardly, with his chest puffed out.
“I thought you were going to be working in the office?”
“Slight change of plan. I’ll be on duty here one or two days each week.”
Goody gumdrops.
“Have you noticed anything different about me, Jill?”
“Have you got a bad leg? You seem to be standing rather awkwardly.”
He pushed his chest even further out. That’s when I spotted it.
“What’s that on your jacket? Is it some kind of medal?”
“Oh, this little thing? I’m surprised you noticed it. It’s kind of embarrassing. I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Okay.” I held out the toll fee.
“But seeing as you asked. I was awarded this for exceptional bravery in the course of my duties.”
“I’m very impressed. What did you do? Did someone fall in the river? Did you dive in and rescue them?”
“No, nothing like that. I can’t swim. It was the tiger. The company felt my actions deserved recognition.”
Huh? Unless my memory was playing tricks on me, Mr Ivers’ actions comprised of locking himself in the toll booth, and screaming like a little girl.
“Would you like a selfie with me?” He offered.
“Thanks, but I’m in a bit of a rush. Why don’t you ask Jack when he comes by? I’m sure he’ll be up for it.”
Snigger.
***
Mrs V was behind her desk, knitting. Or at least, the needles in her hand were clicking away, but there was no wool in sight.
“Wi-Fi Needles, Mrs V?”
“Yes, dear. Dotty Forelock, a friend from the knitting circle, has gone down with a bad case of flu. She needed to get a cardigan finished for her new baby granddaughter. I said I’d lend a hand.”
“So, the cardigan is actually at Dotty’s house?”
“That’s right, dear. Dotty is in bed. The cardigan is on the bedside cabinet so she can keep an eye on progress.”
“Isn’t it difficult? Knitting something you can’t see?”
She smiled. “Not when you’ve been doing it as long as I have. I often knit in the dark to save on electricity.”
“This is for you.” Winky handed me a giant custard cream-shaped tin. “I know they’re your favourites.”
Now I was really worried. Whatever he was up to had to be very bad for him to give me a cake, flowers and now a giant tin of custard creams.
“You’re scaring me, Winky. What have you done?”
“Nothing. I just figured it was time to show my appreciation for everything you do for me.”
“Is it really bad?”
“Is what really bad?”
“Whatever it is that you’ve done that means you have to give me a cake, flowers and custard creams to compensate.”
“Are you as suspicious of Jack when he buys you a present?”
I laughed. “The next time he buys me a present will be the first.”
“Well, that’s the difference between him and me. I know how to look after the ladies in my life. You should bring him in here. I’ll have a word with him.”
“He’s a human. Have you forgotten?”
“Oh yeah. Well, there’s your answer. They’re a tight-fisted lot, humans, all of them. Why do you think I chose to live with you?”
“I assumed it was because you thought I looked kind.”
“Nah. I figured you’d keep me in the style to which I wanted to become accustomed. Which is why I’m showing my appreciation. Do you believe me now?”
“I suppose so.”
“Good. Let’s get busy with the salmon and cream, then.”
I’d no sooner given Winky his food than my phone rang.
“Aunt Lucy?”
“Jill, I’ve just had a message from Imelda Barrowtop’s daughter. She wants you to attend the reading of Imelda’s Will. It’s in a few days’ time.”
“Me? I didn’t know Imelda. The first time I met her was on her deathbed.”
“I know. That’s exactly what I said to Petunia, but she insisted it was important that you attended.”
“What time is it? And where?”
“I’m not sure. She said she’d let me have the details later. When she calls back, shall I tell her you’ll be there?”
“I guess so.”
“Okay. Thanks, Jill.”
Why on earth did I need to be at the reading of Imelda Barrowtop’s Will?
I’d find out soon enough.
***
The police seemed to have accepted that Dale Thomas’s death had been an accident or possibly suicide. I could only assume that they were basing that conclusion on information given to them by the accident investigator and medical examiner. Before I accepted that theory, I wanted to speak to both of those people myself.
One slight problem: why would they talk to me?
Answer: they wouldn’t.
But they would speak to Leo Riley. So, much as the thought appalled me, I was going to have to use magic to give myself the appearance of my favourite detective. I already had the details of the two experts in question—I’d obtained them courtesy of a quick ‘invisible’ visit to Washbrid
ge police station.
***
I felt dirty. I’d just cast the ‘doppelganger’ spell to transform myself into that loathsome man.
“Detective Riley?” Arnold Besafe, the accident investigator, was apparently on a break when I called at his office. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’d just like to double-check some details on the Thomas case.”
“The skydiver? Didn’t you get my report?”
“I did, and excellent work it was too.”
“Thank you.” He blushed.
Flattery always did the trick—he was mine for the taking now.
“From your report, I take it there’s no doubt that the parachute was in good working order?”
“None at all. Most of the time when I get called in on cases like this, the opposite is true. It’s invariably a faulty parachute that’s to blame, but not this time. If the deceased had pulled the cord, it would have deployed.”
“There’s no doubt in your mind about that?”
“None.”
“So, that leaves us with only two possibilities: suicide or some kind of blackout?”
“No. There is a third which I mentioned in my report.”
“Remind me.”
“It’s possible the deceased was unconscious when he left the aeroplane.”
“You mean that someone could have knocked him out, and then pushed him out of the aeroplane?”
“Exactly. Although, as I said in my report, that is the least likely explanation.”
“Right. Thank you for your time Mr Besafe.”
“My pleasure, Detective Riley.”
Hmm? That was food for thought. Was it possible that Dale Thomas had been knocked out by someone in the aeroplane? As far as I was aware there were only two other people aboard that plane: the pilot, Gerry Southland, and Thomas’s wife.
Next, I paid a visit to the medical examiner.
“Leo? I wasn’t expecting to see you. You’re not cancelling tonight, are you? I’ve bought new lingerie, specially.”
Whoops! It seemed that medical examiner, Sheila Treetop, and Leo Riley had much more than just a professional relationship. That was going to make things ten times more difficult.
“Of course not, Sheila.”
“Sheila? Since when did I become Sheila again? I thought I was your little ‘Tops’?” She ran a finger across my lips. Oh dear, this wasn’t going at all as I’d hoped.
“Sorry. Of course you’re still my little ‘Tops’.” Where was a vomit bag when you needed one? “I’m just a little stressed this morning.”
“I can help with that.”
Oh bum!
I took a couple of steps back—out of reach. “As tempted as I am, Tops, I’m due in a meeting in ten minutes.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
“No, seriously, Tops. I have to get back.”
She sighed, and didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “What is it you need from me, then?”
“Just a quick recap on the Thomas case.”
“The skydiver? What’s to tell? It’s all there in my report.”
“I know, but I just want to be sure. Can you sum it up for me in a few words?”
She sighed again. “No pre-existing medical conditions.”
“Suicide then?”
“That’s not what my report said. Did you even read it, Leo?”
“I only had time to skim it.”
“It could be suicide or he could have blacked out. There’s no way of knowing.”
“But you said there was no pre-existing medical condition?”
“People black out all the time.”
“Of course. Could someone have knocked him out, and then pushed him out of the aeroplane?”
“The injuries sustained from the fall made it impossible to tell if he’d been struck in the aeroplane. It’s possible, but unlikely, in my opinion.”
“So, your money would be on—?”
“A blackout or suicide.”
“Thanks.” I started for the door.
“Is that it? Not even a kiss?”
“Err—later—I promise.”
I made a dash for it.
Leo Riley would have a lot of explaining to do on their date.
Snigger.
That had been a lot more difficult than I’d expected, but at least I was clear in my mind on one thing now: there were three possible causes of death, and one of those was murder.
***
I was still feeling incredibly guilty over Barry. It had been a mistake to take him to the human world, and I wanted to make sure he was okay.
“Where’s Barry, Aunt Lucy?”
“Fast asleep upstairs. We were at the park for almost two hours. Dolly was there with Babs. The two dogs ran each other ragged. I thought I was going to have to carry him back home.”
“I’m sorry about dropping him back on you like this.”
“Don’t be daft. I love the big soft thing. This house seemed empty when he was in the human world. What about Jack? How did he take it?”
“He’s okay. He realised it had been a mistake.”
“I’m glad you popped in, Jill. I was going to give you a call.”
“Oh?”
“That horrible woman from the TV had one of her minions drop this off for you.” Aunt Lucy handed me an envelope.
I knew what it was even before I opened it.
“Bad news?” Aunt Lucy looked concerned.
“It’s the list of questions she wants to ask me in the interview.”
“Are you still going to do it?”
“I don’t see I have any choice. I promised I would, and if I go back on my word, she’s only going to pursue me around Candlefield. Probably best to get it over with.”
“When is it?”
“No date as yet. She wants me to call her to arrange something.”
Chapter 9
Oh bum! I’d promised to meet Jack at Coffee Triangle at two o’ clock, and it was now almost twenty past.
“You’re late.” He looked decidedly unimpressed.
“I thought we said twenty-five past.”
“Why would we arrange to meet at twenty-five past?”
“I must have misheard you, sorry. Have you found out what the ‘Big’ day is all about?”
“No clue. Let’s go in and see.”
The promotion, whatever it was, had clearly had the desired effect because the place was chock-a-block. Normally, if it had been that busy, I would have turned around and left, but I wanted to know what the ‘Big’ day was all about.
By the time we’d fought our way to the counter, I had my answer.
“Giant instruments?” I groaned. “Is that it?”
“I think it’s a clever idea.” Clearly, Jack was easily impressed.
There were a number of the over-sized instruments scattered around the shop. To my right was an enormous tambourine, which was almost as tall as Jack. Off to the left was a man-size pair of maracas. As an additional part of the celebrations, the management had dispensed with the usual tradition of having a single instrument theme for the day. Instead, customers could have the choice of any of the percussion instruments on offer. The resultant din was almost unbearable, as people banged drums, struck gongs, and shook tambourines.
“What do you want?” Jack asked.
“A caramel latte and a blueberry muffin, please.”
“I know that. I meant which instrument.”
“I don’t care.”
“A triangle?”
“Anything but a triangle.” I hadn’t mentioned my irrational fear of the three-sided percussion instrument to Jack.
“There you go.” He passed me a tambourine. He had chosen a drum—typical man! “Over there!” He pointed. “There’s a free table.”
When I reached the table, I stopped dead in my tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Jack almost crashed into the back of me.
“Let’s find another table.”
>
“There aren’t any others. What’s wrong with this one?”
Jack stepped around me and took a seat.
“I think I’ll stand.”
“Don’t be silly. Come and sit next to the giant triangle.”
That was the problem. There was a freaking giant triangle leaning against the table.
“I’m okay here.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the three-sided monster.
“Please yourself. This giant triangle is great, isn’t it?” He banged on the drum.
“If you like that kind of thing.” I gave an involuntary shiver.
“Wait a minute.” He grinned. “Are you scared of triangles?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I forced a laugh. “Come on, drink up. It’s too busy in here. Let’s go to the mall.”
I didn’t wait for him. I just hightailed it out of there, and away from that freaky giant triangle.
“What was that all about, back there?” Jack asked, as we made our way to the mall.
“It was too crowded.”
“You didn’t even eat your muffin. I’ve never known you to leave a muffin before.”
Drat! I’d been so freaked out that I’d forgotten to pick it up. I could always dash back for it. But no—it was too risky. The giant triangle was probably lying in wait.
What do you mean, I need serious help?
The mall wasn’t quite as busy as it had been on opening day, but it was still mighty crowded.
“What did you think of ‘Central Shark’?” I grinned.
“Of what?”
“Come on, Jack. This place is called The Central.”
“I know that.”
“So, the shark must be ‘Central Shark’.”
“What shark?”
“The giant one above the entrance that we just walked through.”
“I didn’t see it.”
Give me strength.
“Look over there.” Jack pointed. “A trampoline.”
“You are not getting me on a trampoline.”
“It isn’t for visitors. There’s a demonstration by the Washbridge Flyers at three o’ clock. We should definitely watch that.”
“Watch people bouncing up and down? That’ll be exciting.”