by Adele Abbott
***
I had decided I should take a look at the location where Dale Thomas had met his end. From what I could ascertain, all Washbridge skydivers, regardless of which of the two airports they flew from, jumped over the same area. The field was about five miles from the south airfield, and about eight miles from the north airfield.
If I’d had any sense, I would have taken a pair of wellies with me. But I didn’t, and I hadn’t, and my heels kept getting stuck in the mud. What exactly had I expected to find there? There was just a lot of grass. And sheep poo. Thankfully, the offending animals were now in the adjoining field. Sheep and I had a history. Long story—I won’t bore you with it.
While I was there, an aeroplane flew overhead, and from it leapt two skydivers. What was the matter with these people? Why would you throw yourself out of a plane, and hope that some huge handkerchief might stop you from plummeting to your death?
This time, their luck held out, and they floated to earth a few hundred yards from where I was standing. As they gathered in their parachutes, and made their way on foot out of the field, I spotted a young boy, sitting on a wooden fence that was the only thing keeping me safe from the killer sheep.
I hobbled slowly over to him.
“You need wellies in these fields,” he said.
“I think you’re right.”
“Have you come to watch them jump?” He pointed to the skydivers.
“No. Is that what you’re doing?”
“Yeah. I love to watch them. I want to skydive when I’m older, but Mum says it’s too dangerous.”
“I’m Jill. What’s your name?”
“Jake Hanby.”
“Where do you live, Jake?”
“Over there.” He pointed to a farmhouse in the distance. “This is our farm, and those are our sheep. Do you like sheep?”
“Not much. Do you often watch the skydivers, Jake?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know that there was an accident, the other day?”
“Mum told me about it.”
“You didn’t see it?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone jump that day?”
“Yeah. There were two of them, but they landed okay.”
By the time I got back to my car, my feet looked as though they had been dipped in concrete. It took me almost thirty minutes to scrape off all the mud. I was still trying to process what Jake Hanby had told me. He’d said only two skydivers jumped that day, and that they’d both landed safely. That just didn’t make sense, but then he was only a kid. Maybe he’d got his days mixed up?
***
Back at the office, Mrs V was knitting, and she was obviously bursting to tell me something.
“They’re going to let me train to be a wheelie, Jill.”
“Are they? Wheelie?”
She gave me that disapproving look of hers.
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist. That’s good news, I guess.”
“It’s a great honour. They don’t usually consider anyone for training until they’ve been there for several months.”
“Do you have to wear an ‘L’ plate while you’re undergoing training?”
“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously, Jill.”
“I am. I promise. I’m taking it wheelie seriously.” I hurried through to my office before Mrs V could throw a knitting needle at me.
“Hi, Winky.”
He sat up on the sofa, took one look at me, and then turned his back to me.
“Still sulking, then?”
“I can’t believe you’d be so mean.”
“Because I won’t finance your cruise? You can sulk for as long as you like, it isn’t happening.”
“Meanie!”
“Sticks and stones. How much money do you have squirreled away in all those accounts of yours.”
“That’s not the point. You’re supposed to love me.”
I laughed.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock at my office door.
“Come in?”
Mad popped her head inside. “Busy, Jill?”
“Not particularly. Come on in. Isn’t Mrs V at her desk?”
“Yeah, she’s there, but she said she wasn’t speaking to you. What have you done to upset her?”
“I wheelie have no idea.” I laughed.
“Huh?”
“Never mind. It’s nothing. She’ll get over it. What can I do for you? Or is this just a social call?”
“I’ve been asked to speak to you.”
“Oh? By who?”
“My boss, Aubrey Chance.”
“The head ghost hunter?”
“His official title is Chief of Law Enforcement, and he wants a meeting with you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Will you meet with him?”
“Sure, why not? Did he say when?”
“No. I’ll have to get back to you.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll never guess what’s happened, Jill.”
“You’ve murdered Henry?”
“That’s not such a bad idea, but then, knowing him, he’d probably come back and haunt me. No, it’s something much more surprising: my mother has thrown Nails out.”
“What! They’ve only been married for five minutes. Has he cheated on her?”
Mad laughed. “Who else would have him?”
“Good point. Has she finally got fed up of his nail clipping?”
“That was my first thought when she told me, but no. It turns out he’s an addict.”
“Drugs?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Drink?”
“He likes his drink, but so does Mum. It turns out he’s addicted to buying bottle tops.”
“Really?”
“Is that all you’re going to say?” Mad looked surprised. “I thought you’d think I was pulling your leg. I did, when Mum told me.”
“I have some inside knowledge of the murky world of toppers.”
“Wow! You must do if you know the jargon. It was all new to me. Mum noticed there was money missing from her weekly shopping stash. She keeps it hidden in the blender.”
“Isn’t that dangerous? It could get shredded.”
“Nah, it hasn’t worked for years. Anyway, she realised that it was short, so she confronted Nails. That’s when he confessed about the bottle tops. It turns out that a new shop opened in Washbridge recently.”
“That would be Norman and Betty’s shop.”
“Who?”
“They’re friends of mine. Kind of. I’ve got bad news—Norman’s just opened an even bigger shop this morning. I was interviewed for Toppers TV about it.”
By now, Mad looked thoroughly confused. “Are you into collecting bottle tops, too?”
“Me? No. But Liliana Topps is.”
“Who?”
Chapter 18
There was no sign of Amber or Pearl in Cuppy C.
“Where are they?” I asked the assistant who was behind the counter in the tea room.
“Shopping for clothes for their London trip.”
“Again? How many do they need for a weekend break?”
She grinned. “You know what they’re like.”
I did. Poor Alan and William. They would have to ramp up the overtime just to keep up.
“Amber said that if you came in, I should tell you about the new range of muffins.”
“Oh?” That was music to my ears. I was always up for trying a new flavour of muffin. “What flavours are they?”
“They’re not new flavours. They’re the new mini muffins.”
“Mini? As in small?”
“Yeah. We have all the usual flavours, but now they’re available as mini muffins.” She pointed to a tray in the display cabinet.
“Those?” I’d seen bigger crumbs. “And Amber asked you to tell me about them?”
“Yeah. She said you were always asking for a small muffin, so now you can have one.”
> “I’ll keep those in mind, but I’m unusually hungry today, so I think I’ll stick to the regular sized ones.”
“You mean the giant muffins?”
“Since when were they called ‘giant’?”
“Pearl said that from now on we have to ask if customers want a mini or a giant muffin.”
“As if anyone would go for the minis.” I scoffed at the idea.
“Actually, most people have. In fact, you’re the first person today to ask for a giant one.”
Guilt trip or what?
“Really? Okay, well I don’t care. I’ll stick with the giant muffin. Blueberry, please.”
I’d only been there for a few minutes when Daze and Blaze arrived. They bought their drinks and then joined me.
“What are those?” I pointed to Daze’s plate.
“A strawberry mini muffin. Blaze has had the black forest mini muffin.”
Traitors!
“I see your grandmother managed to talk her way out of trouble with Department V?” Daze took a delicate bite of her strawberry crumb.
“We should have known that she would,” I said. “When I tried to warn her about Department V, she seemed completely unconcerned. It turns out the boss over there is an old friend. I should have known.”
“Like Teflon, your grandmother. I hear she’s introduced yet another one of her ‘inventions’?”
“Wi-Fi Needles? Yeah, and from all accounts, they’re selling like hot cakes.”
“These new muffins are too small,” Blaze complained, having finished his in two bites.
“They’re perfectly big enough.” Daze scolded him. “Only a greedy person would buy the giant ones.” She glanced at my plate. “No offence, Jill.”
“Hmm? None taken. Hey, Blaze, how are things going with Maze? Is she still seeing that Raze guy?”
“No, she dumped him.” He grinned. “We’re getting on great, thanks.”
“Daze, have you heard of Aubrey Chance?” I asked.
“Of course. He’s the head honcho over at the ghost hunters.”
“He wants to meet with me, apparently.”
“Oh?”
“Mad came to see me to set it up. I’ve no idea what it’s about, though.”
“I can guess.”
“What?”
“For some time now, there’s been talk of finding a witch or wizard who can perform their magic in Ghost Town.”
“I didn’t think any witch or wizard could go to GT. Other than the dead ones, obviously, and they lose their magical powers when they die. I don’t really see the point in it, anyway.”
“It’s because the criminals over there are getting smarter and smarter. They’re always one step ahead of the conventional police. They need someone like you, who has a broad range of magical powers, to outsmart the bad guys. Pretty much like you do here and in the human world.”
“That all sounds dandy, but it’s meaningless if I can’t even travel to GT.”
“That’s true.” She shrugged. “You must let me know what it’s all about after you’ve spoken to him.”
“I will, unless he gets me to sign an NDA. What about you two? What are you up to at the moment? Still after Breakskull?”
“He’s disappeared off the radar, but I’m sure he’ll be back sooner or later—like a bad penny. Right now, we’re after a couple of witches who have set up business in Washbridge, offering surgery-free cosmetic surgery.”
“Huh? How can cosmetic surgery be surgery-free? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Perhaps not, but it’s an attractive proposition for those who are too scared to go under the knife.”
“Are you saying these witches use magic to alter people’s bodies?”
“Yep. Scary, isn’t it?”
“No kidding. How did you find out about their operation?”
“They made a few mistakes which brought them to our attention.”
“Can I tell her the joke?” Blaze interrupted.
“No, you can’t!” Daze gave him the ‘look’.
“Let him tell me.” I was always up for a good joke.
“Alright then, but keep your voice down, Blaze.”
He couldn’t get it out quickly enough. “The reason we found out about their operation is because they made a few boobs.”
Blaze laughed. I laughed. Daze pretended to disown the two of us.
“I needed that,” I said, as I wiped tears from my eyes. “I won’t be laughing later, though. My neighbour is bringing some kind of paranormal activity meter around to our house tonight.”
“I’ve heard about those things.” Daze sounded much too concerned for my liking. “Most of them are phoneys, but I’ve heard that a few do what it says on the tin.”
“This is probably a genuine one. It belongs to PAW.”
“I’ve heard of them too. They take the paranormal business very seriously. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’m really worried.”
“I might have an idea.”
“Go on. I’m all ears.”
***
I called it a day so I’d be back in time for the boiler repair man. I couldn’t bear the thought of another day of cold showers.
I’d been in the house for no more than a few minutes when I heard a terrible high pitched noise. At first, I thought it might be Kilbride on his bagpipes, but it seemed to be much closer. And getting louder.
And then it stopped.
There was a knock at the door.
“Is this the Gooder residence?” The man was wearing blue overalls and a blue cap. There was a logo of a whistle on both.
“Whistle Boilers, I assume?”
“The very same. I’m Walter Whistle.”
Of course you are.
“Do come in. Do I call you Mr Whistle?”
“No need for formality. Please call me Walt.”
“And you must call me Jill.”
“What seems to be the problem, Jill?”
“We’ve had no hot water since this morning.”
“We can’t have that. Shall I take a look at it?”
“Please. It’s upstairs. First door on the left.”
“Okey dokey.” He started for the stairs.
And then, it began again. The ear-piercing high-pitched whistle. Walter Whistle had the loudest whistle I’d ever heard. My ear drums felt as though they were about to burst. I put my fingers in my ears, but it didn’t really help. The noise would have penetrated concrete. I stood it for as long as I could, which wasn’t very long, and then went upstairs. Walt already had the boiler stripped down.
“Walt!” I had to shout in order to be heard over his whistling.
“Sorry, Jill. I didn’t hear you come upstairs.”
I wonder why.
“How’s it looking?”
“Not good.” He shook his head, and then went on to blind me with all kinds of plumber-speak.
“Can you repair it?”
“Walter Whistle hasn’t come across a boiler yet that he couldn’t repair.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s going to be costly though.”
“How costly?”
“Well, there’s the parts. And then there’s the labour. And the VAT.”
“So? Ballpark figure?”
“Two, maybe three.”
“Hundred?”
“Thousand.”
“What?”
He laughed. “I’m only messing with you. You could get a brand new one for three thousand. I’d say we’re looking at three hundred. Ish.”
“Could you do it today?”
“I could.”
“Great.”
“If I had the parts.”
“Do you?”
“No. There are so many different makes of boiler. I can’t carry parts for them all.”
“But you can get them?”
“Of course.”
“When?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
&n
bsp; “Yeah. Do you have the answer?”
“I’ll need to make a phone call.”
“Okay.”
He took out his phone. “Johnny? It’s Walt Whistle. I’ve got a Cramshaw 6300. Yeah, I know. Nothing but trouble. The heat exchanger has given up. I know—always the case. Have you got one? —Yeah, I’ll hold.” He turned to me. “He’s checking if he’s got one.”
“Right.” I had my fingers and toes crossed.
“You do? Great.” Walt gave me the thumbs up. “Have they? I didn’t know that. I’ll have to check with my customer.” He turned to me again. “Cramshaw put up all their prices a couple of days ago. It’s going to be three hundred and fifty now. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” Like I had a choice.
“Okay, Johnny. Can you send one over? I’ll give you the address.”
“Will it be here today?” I asked when he’d finished on the call.
“Oh yeah. Johnny is pretty hot with his deliveries. It should be here within the hour.”
“Right. Would you like a drink while you wait?”
“That would be lovely. Tea, please. Milk, no sugar.”
As soon as I set off downstairs, he started to whistle again. My nerve-ends were jangling. I’d have to get the tea to him as quickly as I could, and then keep him topped up. He couldn’t whistle and drink at the same time.
Could he?
***
“Do we have hot water?” Jack asked, as soon as he walked through the door.
“Yes, but I have perforated ear drums.”
“Why? What happened?”
“The boiler repair man happened. Walt Whistle’s whistle was so loud it almost made my ears bleed.”
“You’re exaggerating as usual.”
“I wish I was. It cost a small fortune too. Three hundred and fifty pounds.”
“Still, at least now I can grab a shower before the Rollos come over.”
“Can’t we cancel? I’ve had enough paranormal mumbo jumbo to be going on with.”