by Adele Abbott
“What? Like live together? Wouldn’t it be easier for him to move in with you?”
“There you go again—jumping to conclusions. It would be an investment opportunity.”
What was that I could smell? A rat maybe?
“Donald says property in Europe is the best investment there is at the moment.”
“Where in Europe, exactly?”
“I don’t recall. I think it began with an ‘N’.”
“Never-never land?”
She gave me a look. I really should have known better because she had a knitting needle in her hand.
“Isn’t it a little early to be jumping into any kind of business venture with him? After all, he only reappeared a few days ago.”
“Donald says we have to move quickly or we’ll miss the boat.”
I just bet he did. “I see.”
The smell of rat was getting stronger and stronger. Maybe it was time for me to take a closer look at The Captain.
“There’s a parcel.” Mrs V fished a small box-shaped package out of her drawer. “It’s addressed to the cat.”
“To Winky?”
“Do you have more than one cat in there?”
This wasn’t the first time Winky had received mail. A short while ago he’d been selling Mrs V’s scarves (unbeknown to her), and using the proceeds to buy himself treats. What kind of scam was he running this time?
“Is that for me?” Winky jumped down off my chair and slid across the room. It was ages since I’d seen him wearing the little socks, which Mrs V had knitted for him.
“What are you up to?” I said.
“I’m not up to anything, and I’m disappointed you would think I am.”
He did ‘hurt’ so well, but it didn’t have me fooled.
“What is it then?” I shook the parcel.
“Careful! You might break it. Open it if you like. I have nothing to hide.”
I called his bluff, and ripped open the package.
“It’s a smartphone.” I read the card. “From Bella.”
“Yes!” He punched the air. “She said she was going to buy one for me.”
“Why would she buy you a smartphone?”
“Because you’re too tight to buy one for me.”
“That’s not what I meant. And what do you mean ‘tight’? I’m not tight. I’m just careful.”
“That’s what all tight people say. Now, are you going to give it to me or what?”
“They’re a bit complicated.” I passed it to him. “You might need me to help—”
He whizzed through menus and set-up screens, logging into the Wi-Fi (how did he know the password?), and was soon downloading apps like a pro.
“Where did you learn how to do all that?” It had taken hours of tuition from Peter for me to get up to speed on mine.
“What’s to learn? It’s simple.”
“How do you even manage to hold it? You don’t have opposable thumbs.”
“Opposable thumbs?” He sneered. “You humans.”
“Hey, who are you calling human?”
“Humans, sups—all the same to me. You’re all so taken up with your fancy opposable thumbs.” He put on a stupid high-pitched voice. “Look at me with my opposable thumbs. I’m so superior. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Who was that meant to be an impression of?”
“You of course.”
“I don’t sound anything like that.”
“Anyway, as I was saying,” he continued. “Opposable thumbs—highly overrated. All you need is a little hand eye coordination and the skillz.”
“Skillz?”
“Yeah. Skillz like what I got.”
“Who’s paying the tariff on the phone?”
“Don’t worry. Bella is going to keep it topped up for me. She’s making a fortune from her modelling.”
My cat, Winky—the kept man.
***
At his request I met Bob Dale, Amanda Banks’ stepfather, at a small diner just outside Washbridge. I arrived five minutes early, but he was already waiting for me in his car—a Bentley with a personalised number plate. I didn’t know much about Bob Dale other than that he was wealthy. The little research I’d had time to do revealed he’d built up and then sold a software company before the age of thirty. It hadn’t surprised me to learn he was rich. From what I’d heard, his wife Patty, formerly Patty Banks, liked her men wealthy. Although the terms of her divorce settlement had remained secret it was rumoured that she’d walked away with a shade under ten million when her marriage to Amanda’s father had ended.
“Jill?” Bob Dale looked more like a cowboy than a software geek. He was wearing jeans, and a white shirt, open at the collar.
“Thanks for meeting with me.”
“No problem. Anything that might help to get Amanda back is fine by me. Shall we go inside?”
Bob bought the drinks, and we found a quiet corner at the back of the diner.
“How do you want to play this?” he said.
“Let’s start with Amanda. How close are you to her?”
“We’re very close. I don’t have children of my own. My first marriage ended after only a couple of years—too young—both of us. When Patty and I got together, I wasn’t sure how Amanda would react to me. I was afraid she might think I was trying to take the place of her father. I needn’t have worried—we seemed to hit it off straight away. She’s actually told me that she feels able to talk to me more than she ever has to her father or her mother. Patty isn’t what you’d call the nurturing type. And Dexter—” he hesitated. “Honestly, Dexter Banks is not a nice man.”
“How do you and he get along?”
“We don’t. I’ve tried to reach out to him, but he doesn’t want to know. I suppose I can’t blame the man. I have his wife and I’m much closer to his daughter than he ever was. Let’s just say I’m not his favourite person.”
“What about Steve?”
“Steve’s a great guy. I liked him from the get-go. And even if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered. Amanda is mad about him, and he’s mad about her.”
“What do her parents think of Steve?”
“Neither of them likes him. Patty does at least try to hide her disdain, but Dexter is outright hostile to him which of course has driven an even bigger wedge between him and Amanda.”
“What can you tell me about the kidnapping?”
“Not much that you won’t have already seen in the press, I guess. Dexter won’t allow me in his house, so all of my information comes from Patty or the newspapers. The first I knew was when Steve rang me. He’d found a note in their flat.”
“He mentioned that. Not a ransom note though?”
“No. It said something like: ‘We have her, we’ll be in touch’.”
“And since then? Nothing?”
“Nothing. At least as far as I know. It’s possible Dexter has received a ransom note, but I think Patty would have told me.”
“Is there anyone you can think of, anyone at all, who might be behind this?”
“Dexter has a high public profile. There must be any number of nut jobs out there who might do this to get at his money.”
“What about friends? Do you know any of Amanda’s friends?”
“A few by sight. She’d drop by the house with them occasionally. Her best friend is Rachel Nixon. They’re very close—they have been since they were at school.”
“You don’t have a number for her, do you?”
“No. Sorry, but I believe she shares a flat in Washbridge city centre somewhere.”
“No problem. I’ll find her. Maybe Steve will have her number.”
I couldn’t help but wonder why Steve hadn’t mentioned Rachel to me.
“Did you know Amanda had a part-time job?” Bob said.
“No. I thought she was at uni. I wouldn’t have thought she needed the money.”
“She wouldn’t accept money from her parents or from me for that matter. She told Dexter what he could do with her a
llowance. She works in a small bar—bit of a dive actually. Bar Bravo, I think it’s called.”
Bob told me he’d be the one paying my fees, but he didn’t want either Dexter or Patty to know I was working on the case. That suited me because I didn’t want word getting back to Maxwell if I could avoid it. Bob promised to keep me posted if anything new came up, and I said I’d let him know if I made any progress.
I liked Bob Dale.
***
When I got back to the office, Mrs V was browsing through a number of glossy brochures. They appeared to be for timeshare properties. I was getting bad vibes about this, but I didn’t want to risk upsetting her until I had more to go on. It was time to get my hooks into The Captain.
Winky was sitting on the sofa, tapping away on his smartphone.
“How come Bella decided to buy that for you?”
“Because she LOVES me.”
“Hmm. I thought she found the semaphore more romantic?”
“She does, but all the flag waving was giving her muscles. That’s a no-no for a cat model.”
“Of course. Now you mention it that makes perfect sense.”
“Do you mind?” He pulled away when I tried to look at the screen.
“What’s that you’re doing?”
“If you must know, I’ve just added my profile to FelineSocial.com.”
“Is that like Facebook?”
“Yeah. They copied it.”
“FelineSocial copied Facebook? Is that allowed?”
“No. Facebook got the idea from FelineSocial, obviously.”
“Is Bella on there?”
“Of course. She’s got almost two thousand licks.”
“Don’t you mean ‘Likes’?”
“No, I don’t. Likes are creepy. How would you feel if someone you didn’t know came up to you in the street, and said ‘I like you’? You’d run a mile. And yet people do it on Facebook all the time.”
“How is it better to ‘lick’ someone?”
“You’re not a cat. You wouldn’t understand.”
“How many licks do you have?”
“None yet, but I’ve only just completed my profile. Bella will lick me soon.”
She had better do or yours truly would never hear the end of it.
“What’s that?” I pointed to Bella’s profile.
“That’s her status.”
“Aloof? What’s yours—Desperate?” I laughed.
He didn’t. I was in the bad books again. Would I ever learn?
My phone rang.
“Jill?” Amber said.
“Hi.”
“It’s Amber.”
“And Pearl.”
“I’m talking if you don’t mind,” Amber said.
“I do mind.” Pearl butted in. “I want to talk to her too.”
“What is it girls?”
“We just wanted to tell you we’ve done the makeover for your neighbour.”
“Mr Ivers? Great. How did it go?”
“I really like him,” Amber said.
“He’s boring!” Pearl shouted.
“He was not boring. He knows tons about movies.”
“Like I said, boring.”
“How did the makeover go?” I said. “Was he pleased with what you did?”
“I think so. We got him a new haircut, and a complete new wardrobe. He was a bit surprised at the cost though.”
“That’s great. Thanks for doing that guys. Look I have to go because the cat is giving me the evil eye.”
“Huh?”
“Long story. I’ll tell you later. See you soon. Thanks again.”
Chapter 9
It wasn’t difficult to track down Rachel Nixon. Just as Bob Dale had suggested, she shared a flat which was within walking distance of my office. I didn’t have a phone number for her, and I didn’t want to trouble her at university or at her place of work, so I figured an early morning visit to her flat might be my best option.
A young woman answered the door in a tee-shirt and boxer shorts. It looked like she’d only just crawled out of bed.
“Rachel Nixon?”
“No. She’s in her room.”
The young woman, who appeared to be nursing a hangover, ushered me inside and pointed to a door to the left.
I knocked.
“Just a minute.”
The young woman who answered this door looked altogether more with it. She was dressed, and looked as though she was getting ready to leave.
“Rachel Nixon?”
“Yeah. Who are you?” Her tone was more curious than confrontational.
“My name is Jill—”
“It’s the private investigator I told you about.” The man’s voice came from inside her room. Moments later, Steve Lister appeared at her shoulder.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi?” Finding him there had thrown me a little.
“I’ve told Rachel that I’ve asked you to investigate.”
“Right. Good. You didn’t mention Rachel when you came to see me.”
“Didn’t I? Sorry. My head is so mixed up. I thought I had.”
Steve was dressed. I wasn’t sure if he’d been there all night or had arrived that morning.
“Do you have time to answer a few questions?” I asked Rachel.
“Sure. My first lecture isn’t for another hour.”
“Do you need me to stay?” Steve asked.
“No. I’d prefer to speak to Rachel alone.”
“No problem.” He gave Rachel a quick peck on the cheek, and said, “I’ll call you later.”
After he’d gone, I deliberately said nothing for a few seconds, hoping that Rachel might feel compelled to fill the silence.
“Do you think you can find Amanda?” she said, at last.
“I’m going to do my best. How well do you know Steve?”
“Steve and I hit it off from the moment he and Amanda started dating. He’s a top guy—Amanda did good.”
“Does he often come over?”
“Yeah. He and Amanda spend a lot of time here.”
“Does that cause any friction with your flatmate?”
“No why would it? You met Carly, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. She looked pretty hungover.”
“She always is.”
“So, have you and Amanda known each other a long time?”
“We went to school together. We were inseparable.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, is your family wealthy?”
“Wealthy enough to send me to a private school—that’s where we became friends, but not rich like Amanda’s family. That’s what I liked about her. She never had any airs and graces. Never talked about the money or flaunted it like some of the kids did. She was—” Rachel caught herself. “I mean ‘is’. She’s my best friend. You will find her won’t you? I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her.”
***
I left more confused than when I’d arrived. Why hadn’t Steve mentioned Rachel? Had he simply forgotten to tell me or was there more to their relationship than he was letting on? Neither of them had appeared the slightest bit awkward about being found together. Either it was completely innocent or they were both exceptional actors.
I was no further on than when Steve first came to see me. It all hinged on the ransom note, but so far there wasn’t one. Or was there? Was it possible that the Banks’ had received a note and had chosen, or been told by Maxwell, to keep it quiet—even from Bob Dale? I could always use magic to get inside the police station to see if they knew more than they were saying, but I didn’t want to do anything that would risk antagonising Maxwell if I could avoid it.
The headline on the front page of the Bugle read, ‘Is Amanda Dead?’.
I resented handing my money to that loathsome rag, but I bit the bullet and bought the morning edition. It was, as I’d expected, up to their usual high standards. It was basically a rehash of the story which they had run twice already. There was no new information—they’
d simply changed the angle. According to the Bugle the fact that no ransom note had been received wasn’t good news, and probably meant that Amanda Banks was dead. Unfortunately, there was a good chance they could be right. The whole point of a kidnapping of this kind—one which involved a wealthy family—was to extort cash. The only reason I could come up with for no ransom demand being received was that Amanda had been killed—possibly while trying to escape. But even then I would have expected them to try to get some money from the family. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened. To have heard nothing at all, simply didn’t make a lick of sense.
***
“Why do I have to go?” Barry could do ‘pathetic’ better than any dog I’d ever known.
“You’ll learn things.”
“Why do I need to go to an obedience class though? I’m not naughty, am I?”
Now I felt bad. “No you’re not naughty—”
“Then why?”
“You can be a little boisterous at times.”
“What does boy’s truss mean?” Barry looked even more confused than he usually did.
“Boisterous. It means naughty,” Grandma offered helpfully.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” She cackled then took her leave.
“See!” Barry whined. “You do think I’m naughty.”
I needed to try a different tack.
“Do you like to go to the park?”
“The park! It’s my favourite. I love to go to the park. Can we go now?”
“No. If you don’t take the obedience classes, you won’t be able to go to the park ever again.”
“Why? That’s not fair!”
“It’s the new rules. All dogs have to go to obedience class or they won’t be allowed in the park.”
Barry sighed.
“What can I do?” I said. “My hands are tied.” What? Don’t judge. I’m allowed to lie if it’s for his own good.
‘No Bones About It’ held classes in a large hall not far away from Cuppy C. There were ten of us in all: three witches, three vampires, two werewolves and two goblins. The dogs were a mix of breeds. A Rottweiler barked at Barry when he got a little too close to him.
“I don’t like him,” Barry said, cowering behind my legs.