by Adele Abbott
I didn’t want her to see me, so I hurried back to the top of the park and stayed there until Barry ran out of steam, and came to find me. When he eventually did, I looked back down the park; Amber and Sebastian were still together on the bench.
Back at Cuppy C, I treated myself to a cup of tea and a muffin. I was still trying to figure out what I should do about Amber, when she walked in.
“Hi, Jill!” she called—all butter wouldn’t melt. She wasn’t fooling me with her little miss innocent act.
“Hi.” I couldn’t bring myself to smile at her.
“What’s up with you, misery guts?” She pulled up a seat and joined me at my table.
“Nothing.”
“Come on. You look like you’ve lost a fiver and found a penny.”
“I took Barry for a walk in the park earlier.”
“Oh?” Her smile faded a little.
“I saw you there, Amber.”
“I just went for a walk.”
“You were with Sebastian.”
“I bumped into him.”
“You were flirting.”
“I was not flirting.”
“I’m not stupid. I know flirting when I see it.”
“It was nothing, honestly. We were just having a laugh.”
“Why were you with him in the first place? And don’t give me that bumped into him rubbish.”
“If you must know, he asked me out.”
“What about William?”
“Why the inquisition? I haven’t done anything wrong. Sebastian and I are just friends.”
“Why were you flirting, then?”
“If you must know, Sebastian said he has feelings for me.”
“Amber, grow up! He’s only known you for five minutes. How can he possibly have feelings for you?”
“You’re a fine one to talk. You’ve got half a dozen men on the go.”
Wow! Below the belt.
“No, I haven’t. And anyway, I don’t have a fiancé!”
“I know.” Her bravado evaporated. “I feel terrible.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. You won’t tell anyone will you?”
“I’m not going to lie to William for you. You have to make your mind up who you want to be with, and if you decide it’s Sebastian, you have to tell William. You owe him that much.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right, but please don’t say anything to William. Not until I decide what I’m going to do.”
“Okay. But make it quick. It’s not fair to string him along.”
“I know. I’ll get it sorted I promise.”
I didn’t know what to do for the best. I wished I’d never seen Amber and Sebastian together. William was a great guy, and he didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But then, Amber was my cousin, and I didn’t want to drop her in it. I just hoped she’d make her mind up one way or the other quickly. I hated keeping secrets.
***
While I was in Candlefield, I decided to take a look around the market. As I was wandering aimlessly around the edge of the square, I spotted a couple sitting inside a bar which faced onto the market.
It was Pearl! And the man she was with was none other than Sebastian! What on earth was going on? The two of them were quite obviously flirting. That man was unbelievable!
I hurried past—I didn’t want either of them to spot me.
Back at the flat above Cuppy C, I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew someone was knocking on the door.
“Jill, are you all right?” Pearl let herself into the room.
“Yeah, I must have fallen asleep.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? We wondered where you were.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.” She turned to walk away.
“Pearl, hold on a minute. I was in the marketplace earlier.”
“Did you buy anything?”
“No, but I did see you with Sebastian.”
She had the same guilty expression as Amber had had earlier.
“It’s nothing. We were just talking. We’re just friends.”
“You were flirting, Pearl. I saw you.”
“He says he has feelings for me.”
“Really? How very surprising.”
“Don’t be like that, Jill. He can’t help how he feels.”
Apparently not.
“What about Alan?”
“I don’t know what to do. You won’t tell him, will you?”
“No, but you have to decide what you’re going to do—stay with Alan or give him up for that playboy.”
“Why would you call Sebastian that? You don’t know him.”
“Oh, I think I know him well enough. So who’s it to be? Alan or Sebastian?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’d better decide, and quick. It’s not fair to treat Alan like this.”
“I know. You’re right. I’ll get it sorted.”
“You better had.”
***
As soon as I got back to Washbridge, my phone rang. It was Tom Hawk.
“Yes, Tom.”
“Jill, I thought you should know that we’ve spoken to all the other members of the knitting circle, and all but one of them have agreed to accept police protection. We’re going to assign a police officer to each of them—for a few days at least.”
“That’s good to hear. Can’t you persuade the other member?”
“We’re going to need your help for that. The hold-out is your P.A, Mrs Versailles. She refuses point-blank to allow it. That’s why I called. I wondered if you’d have a word, and see if you can get her to change her mind?”
I might have known.
“Of course. I’ll talk to her. While I’ve got you on the phone—I wanted to ask whether you thought there was any sort of French connection? Considering what was written on the notes.”
“There definitely isn’t.”
“How can you be so certain already? Surely the notes—”
“I’m positive. Look, I shouldn’t really be telling you any of this, but it’s not French at all.”
“I don’t understand. I thought it said: knit une, kill une.”
“That’s what it looks like, but that’s not what it actually says. It’s knit one, kill one. According to our experts, the typewriter used to type the notes has a faulty key, so what looks like a ‘U’ is actually an ‘O’.”
“I see. So, presumably, if you can find the typewriter with that faulty key, you’ve found your murderer?”
“Precisely. Sorry, Jill, but I have to go. Don’t forget to have a word with your P.A.”
I caught up with Mrs V back at the office.
“The police have been in touch, Mrs V.”
“Have they found the murderer?”
“No. It’s early days yet. They told me you’ve refused to accept police protection.”
“I don’t need protecting, dear.”
“Whoever is doing this appears to be targeting members of your knitting circle.”
“I don’t care. If anyone messes with me, they’ll find themselves on the wrong end of a size seven.”
“Is there anything I can do to persuade you to change your mind?”
She gave me a look which said ‘not a chance’.
“At least think about it, and let me know if you have a change of heart.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
That woman was almost as obstinate as I was.
“Have you made any progress on the hunt for the murderer, Jill?”
“I’ve spoken to Jessie White and Arnold Crowsfoot.”
“Did you learn anything of interest?”
“Not really. Is there anyone you can think of who might have a grudge against the knitting circle? Anyone at all?”
“We did have to expel a couple of members last year. Let me see. There was Doris Drystone. She unravelled another member’s knitting—a jumper. And then there was Wanda Moore. She bo
rrowed needles from several members, and never gave them back. We simply can’t tolerate that sort of behaviour.”
“Do you happen to have their addresses?”
“We’ve got a file with all the members’ names, addresses, and phone numbers in it. I’ll dig them out for you.”
Chapter 4
I’d finished for the day, and was on my way to the car when I spotted an advertising board showing The Bugle’s headline.
Oh no! It can’t be. Please tell me it isn’t so.
I dropped into the nearest newsagent, and grabbed a copy. Great! Just what I’d feared.
I headed straight back to the office.
“Back again so soon?” Mrs V put down her latest knitting project—a purple and black scarf. “I thought you’d finished for the day.”
“I had, but then I remembered something—err—something urgent I needed to do.”
Where was that little ball of trouble? “Winky! Winky where are you?”
“Huh?” He crawled out from under the sofa, where he’d obviously been fast asleep.
“What’s wrong? I was having a fantastic dream. Bella, me and Cindy—”
“I don’t want to hear about your sordid dreams.”
“How dare you call my love life sordid? The three of us were just about to—”
“Stop! If you tell me, I’ll never be able to erase the mental image. And anyway, I have a bone to pick with you.”
“A toe bone?”
Would I never be allowed to forget that?
“Look at this!” I put the newspaper on the floor, so he could see it.
“What am I meant to be looking at?”
“The headline of course!”
“‘Alien Cats’?”
“Precisely!”
“What’s it about?”
“Read it!”
“I can’t be bothered! Give me the Cliff Notes.”
“Apparently, there have been multiple reports of cats waving flags around.”
He laughed. “Good! It looks like my students are doing what I asked them to—they’re practising.”
“Why didn’t you tell them to practise somewhere where no one could see them? The Bugle has received numerous phone calls from worried cat owners who think that their pets have been taken over by aliens.”
“Why would they think that?”
“Because cats don’t normally wave flags around.”
“I object to the expression: ‘wave flags around’. Semaphore is a sophisticated communication system.”
“I don’t care what you call it. You’re going to have to stop the lessons.”
“Why? I’m making a small fortune.”
“You’ve already got enough money-making scams. I’m sure you can afford to lose one of them.”
“Scams? I’m hurt.”
“You’ll be hurting a whole lot more if you don’t cancel these lessons PDQ.”
“Purr Don’t Quit?”
“Huh?”
“That’s what you said. PDQ.”
“PDQ doesn’t stand for Purr Don’t Quit.”
“Of course it does.”
“Not in the human world. It stands for Pretty Damn Quick!”
“Ah, right. That makes more sense.”
“So, you’ll cancel the lessons?”
“But, I get lonely in here. It’s nice to have some feline company.”
He was toying with my emotions; I knew he was. But I did feel sorry for him being stuck inside by himself, and I didn’t want to deprive him of contact with other cats if I could help it.
“Look, if you insist on continuing with the lessons, you have to tell your students that they can’t practise where anyone can see them. They must be more discreet or their owners will freak out.”
“You’ve seen me doing semaphore, and you didn’t freak out.”
“Yes, but I’m a witch. I understand that cats can do these things, but most cats live with humans. If this story continues to gain ground, sooner or later someone’s going to trace it back to me. Then, where will I be? I have to keep this witch thing under wraps.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t want me to broadcast the fact that you’re a witch?”
“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
“So, for example, you wouldn’t want me to make a post on FelineSocial?”
“No!”
“And you’d probably be willing to pay to keep it quiet?”
“That’s blackmail.”
“I’m not sure I’d call it that.”
“What would you call it then?”
He thought about if for a few seconds. “Okay, you’re right. It is blackmail. And make sure it’s red not pink.”
***
My next step was to visit the two women who had been thrown out of the knitting circle. Knitters gone rogue.
Wanda Moore lived closest to my office, so I called on her first. Her house had a name plaque on the front which read: ‘Knit One’.
Hmm? Could that be a coincidence? Surely, if she was the murderer, she wouldn’t have left a note which would give her away so easily. Or would she?
The woman who answered the door was quite short in stature, but had the longest arms I’d ever seen. She could easily have scratched her feet without bending over.
“Yes, can I help you?”
I couldn’t stop staring at her arms.
“Sorry, I was given your name by Annabel Versailles.”
She scowled. “What does she want?”
“Have you heard about the murders?”
Her expression softened a little. “Yes, I did. I heard it on the news when I was coming back from my sister’s house. Terrible thing.”
“My name is Jill Gooder; I’m a private investigator. Would you mind answering a few questions?”
“What kind of questions?”
“I understand that you were expelled from the knitting circle.”
“What if I was? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did you think you were treated unfairly?”
“Of course it was unfair. The whole thing was a farce. Those stupid women said that I hadn’t returned their knitting needles. Why would I hold onto someone else’s needles? It’s their memories that are the problem. I gave each and every knitting needle back to its rightful owner. It’s a pity they don’t have anything better to worry about.”
“So, it was all a misunderstanding?”
“Of course it was. Downright malicious, some of those women. And to think I used to be good friends with some of them. Rowena’s husband and mine used to work together.” She took a step back. “Would you like to come in? I have lots of stories I can tell you about the knitting circle.”
Why not? She seemed harmless enough.
My opinion of Wanda Moore went up a couple of notches when she brought out a fresh packet of custard creams.
“Do you like these? They’re all I’ve got, I’m afraid.”
“Custard creams? They’re my favourites.” I took a couple, and then one more.
Wanda spent the best part of an hour carrying out a character-assassination of every member of the knitting circle, including some very juicy stories about Mrs V. As I was eating the last of my custard creams, I noticed a photo on the sideboard. It was Wanda Moore with a man who was quite a bit taller than her, but whose arms were of a more conventional length.
“Is that your husband, Mrs Moore?”
“Late husband. Billy was a good man and a darling husband. I never had cause to doubt him—not like some of these youngsters today. They get married one day, and divorced the next. Same with work—they can’t hold down a job for more than five minutes. My Billy spent all his life in the same job, and never once complained.”
“That doesn’t happen very often these days. What did he do?”
“He worked in office equipment. Not the kind of stuff they have nowadays; none of those new-fangled computer thingies. I mean real equipment: Desks, chairs, typewriters—that s
ort of thing.”
My ears pricked up at that. “Do you have a typewriter, Mrs Moore?”
“Me? No, dear. Never seen the need for one.”
After I’d finished my tea, I thanked her for her hospitality, and went on my way. There was no doubt that Wanda Moore felt aggrieved at the way she’d been treated by the ladies of the knitting circle, but was that enough to drive her to murder? She’d denied ever owning a typewriter, but surely, if her husband had worked in office equipment all of his life, it was possible he’d brought one home at some point. Could she be lying?
***
It was the first time Kathy and I had had a chance for a proper catch-up since my ‘date’ with Jack. It didn’t take her long to start the inquisition.
“So, what went wrong?”
“Nothing went wrong. It was okay, I guess.”
“Okay? After all that build up, it was just okay?”
“It wasn’t his fault. It’s just that the suspension is like a black cloud hanging over him.”
“How come he’s still suspended? What’s taking them so long? They must know he had nothing to do with taking that money.”
“He says it’s just how these things work, but it seems to me that he’s not prepared to push it. And what’s worse, he won’t allow me to help him.”
“Since when did that ever stop you?”
“What kind of start to a relationship would it be, if I ignored his wishes?”
“You’re smart.” She hesitated. “Or at least, that’s what you’re always telling me. Surely you can find a way to do something without Jack finding out.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Peter arrived back with the kids just in time for dinner; they’d been swimming.
“I can swim two widths!” Mikey shouted.
“Well done you.”
“I can too.” Lizzie beamed.
“No you can’t!” Mikey said.
“I can.”
“Only with a float. Floats are for babies.”
Lizzie looked as though she was about to cry.
“That’s enough, Mikey.” Kathy scolded him. “Remember what I said. If you aren’t good between now and your birthday, then there’s no drum kit.”