by Adele Abbott
“So, you thought you’d offer her our house?”
“Exactly. As luck would have it, her cousin lives only a couple of miles from your place, so it’s ideal.”
“And you didn’t think you ought to ask me first?”
“Not really.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s simply not on.”
“I’ve already promised her.”
“You’ll just have to un-promise her.”
“I can’t do that. And anyway, you owe me.”
“What for?”
“For deciding to buy your wedding dress from next door instead of from ForEver Bride.”
“Next door, as you put it, belongs to my sister. Of course I chose Kathy over you.”
“Which is precisely why you should do this for me. And Madge.”
“What am I supposed to tell Jack?”
“Why do you have to tell that human anything?”
“Because it’s his house too. If there’s going to be a stranger living there, I think he has a right to know.”
“Tell him the truth: that she’s an old friend of mine. Come on, Jill. How often do I ask you to do anything for me?”
“All the time.”
“Can I tell Madge it’s okay?”
“I’ll need to meet her first.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re asking me to allow a complete stranger to live in my house for a fortnight. I’m not going to agree to that until I’ve at least met the woman.”
“Alright, if you insist. I’ll set up a meeting with her.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not long now until the big day.”
“Don’t you start going on about the wedding too. It’s all anyone talks to me about.”
“I’m not talking about your wedding. I’m talking about the launch of Ever A Wool Moment’s app on Friday.”
“You’re launching an app?”
“I told you about it months ago.”
“You tell me about a lot of things.”
“It’s going to revolutionise knitting.”
“Really?” As if I cared.
“Just imagine. You’re out and about, and you see someone wearing a jumper that you like. You snap a photo using the app, and voila, it generates a pattern to create the garment.”
“Sounds great.” Yawn. “What have you called it?”
“Guess.”
“I don’t know. Copy Cat?”
“Nothing so boring. It’s called: See It. Make It. Brilliant, eh?”
“Brilliant. Can I go now?”
“Yes. I’ll let you know when I’ve arranged something with Madge.”
“Wonderful.”
Chapter 2
“Hey, traitor!” Kathy called to me as I passed by her shop. “I saw you sneaking out of next door.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. Grandma summoned me down here.”
“It’s a bit late for her to try to persuade you to buy your dress from her shop.”
“It wasn’t that, although I hope you appreciate all the flak I’ve had to take because I bought the dress from you.”
“You’re a martyr. Why did she drag you down here?”
“She wants to rent out our house while we’re away on honeymoon.”
“No way.”
“Yes way. Well, not so much rent because we wouldn’t actually get paid.”
“To who?”
“One of her friends from Can—err—Canada.”
“Your grandmother has friends who live in Canada?”
“Apparently. And Grandma has told her she can stay at our house while we’re away.”
“That was nice of her. No doubt she consulted with you first?”
“What do you think?”
“Don’t forget about the final fitting for the dress.”
“Yeah. Wednesday—I’ve got it in my diary.”
“It’s tomorrow night.”
“Is it? I thought it was Wednesday.”
“It’s Tuesday. It’s always been Tuesday. It’s a good job I persuaded you to let Marceau plan this wedding, or it would never have happened.”
“He’s coming around again tonight. He practically lives at our place.”
“He’s very thorough.”
“That’s one word for it. Apparently, we have to finalise the seating plan tonight.”
“Good luck with that. I remember when Pete and I got married, there were more arguments about the seating plan than anything else.”
“I don’t get it. Why can’t we just let everyone sit where they want?”
She rolled her eyes. “Like I said, it’s a good thing you’ve got Marceau on the job.”
I’d promised Aunt Lucy that I’d nip over to see Barry, who was going through a bit of a bad patch. His friend, Hamlet, had passed away two weeks earlier, and Barry still hadn’t got over it.
First though, a caffeine-injection was called for.
I’d never really taken to Coffee Games, but the rebranding from Coffee Triangle had obviously been a success; the place was much busier since the change.
I’d never liked games, and especially not board games. When I was a kid, I always dreaded that period, just after we’d eaten Christmas dinner, when everyone wanted to play stupid board games. Monopoly was about the only one I could stand, and that was only because I used to cheat by stealing cash out of the bank.
What? Everyone does that. Don’t they?
In the same way as Coffee Triangle used to have an instrument of the day, Coffee Games now had a game of the day. And judging by the weird buzzing noises coming from around the shop, today was ‘Operation’ day. It was just as well that I’d never wanted to embark on a medical career because I’d always been useless at that stupid game. Except for that one time when I’d beaten Mum, Dad and Kathy, but that might have been because I’d sneakily disconnected the battery. Snigger.
There was a familiar face behind the counter.
“Blaze?”
“Hi, Jill. Long time, no see.”
“Is Daze here?”
“Haven’t you heard? I’ve been promoted. I’m working solo now.”
“Congratulations. Are you enjoying it?”
“It’s a bit nerve racking, but it definitely has some advantages.” After checking that no one was watching, he undid one of the buttons on his shirt, to reveal a luminous orange catsuit underneath.
“Wow!” I laughed. “I don’t think Daze would have approved of that.”
“She’d have been apoplectic with rage.”
“Is she working solo now, too?”
“No, she’s got a new partner, but from what I’ve heard, he’s pretty useless. What can I get for you, Jill?”
“A caramel latte, and one of those blueberry muffins, please.”
“Would you like a board game?”
“Operation? No, I hate that game.”
“Really? It’s one of my favourites. I reached the semi-finals of the Candlefield Operation Tournament last year.”
“Please tell me that’s not really a thing.”
“It really is. And, I came sixth at Kerplunk the year before.”
“Very impressive.” I glanced around to make sure no one could overhear. “I assume you’re here undercover?”
“Yeah. We’ve had reports that some vampires are trying to establish a ‘blood distribution network’ here in Washbridge.”
“Human blood?”
“That’s right. They approach established businesses run by vampires and try to persuade them to carry supplies of the blood. Their favourite targets are coffee shops, bars and clubs. I’m hoping to catch them red-handed.”
“I didn’t realise that the owner of this place was a vampire.”
“Rodney? Yeah, he bought the place just over a year ago. It was his idea to change the theme from percussion to board games. You might not have seen him, though, because he rarely comes out during the day.”
“How exactly do they operate this blood distribution networ
k?”
“They provide the shop, bar or club with a fridge, designed to look like a safe, and then deliver fresh supplies of blood several times a week. We’ve closed down a few outlets already, but what we’re really after is the people behind the network, so we can shut down the operation altogether.”
“Is Daze working on that too?”
“No. I’m not sure what she’s doing at the moment.”
The coffee and muffin had certainly hit the mark, but I was glad to get back outside, away from the constant buzzing of the games. I was just about to magic myself over to Candlefield when someone called my name. It was the unmistakeable dulcet tones of Deli.
“Jill!” She was across the road, standing in the doorway of Nailed-It. The nail bar had been forced to relocate when I-Sweat gave up their lease.
“Morning, Deli.” I walked over to her.
“I was going to come up and see you later, Jill. You’ve saved me a trip. Mad called last night to say she’ll be coming up on Thursday, in time for the hen night. She asked me to let you know.”
“That’s great.”
Mad had already confirmed she was coming to the wedding, but she hadn’t been sure if she’d be able to make it to the hen night.
“Where’s she going to stay?”
“With us of course. She was going to book a hotel, but I wouldn’t hear of it. I can’t wait to see her again.”
“Me neither. It’s been very quiet without her.”
“You must be getting nervous, Jill. It won’t be long now.”
“I’m okay. Jack’s nervous enough for both of us.” I glanced through the shop window. “How’s business? It looks like you’re busy.”
“It’s going really well, thanks. Especially since I got up to speed.”
“Are you and Nails both doing the nails now?”
“Yeah, but most people still ask for him. We’ve put up his rates—he now charges twice as much as I do. Hopefully, the price hike will persuade a few people to give me a go. Hey, I’ve just had a brilliant idea.”
Oh dear.
“I could do your nails for the wedding.”
“Err—I—err—thanks, but—”
“I wouldn’t charge you anything. It would be part of my wedding gift. Please, Jill, it would mean a lot to me.”
“Are you sure you—err—that’s to say, do you know what you’re—I mean, are you definitely okay working on real hands?”
“Oh yeah. Defo. I could do them for you on the day before the wedding. What do you say?”
“Okay then. I guess it would be nice to have attractive nails for a change.”
“Great. I’ll see you on the hen night.”
***
Aunt Lucy had now settled into her new home. Everything was pretty much perfect except for her next-door neighbour: Grandma.
“Hi, Jill.” She was baking what looked like cupcakes.
“Morning. Are you enjoying your day off?”
“It doesn’t seem right to call it that, but it is nice to have some time to myself.”
Aunt Lucy looked after Amber’s little girl, Lil, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then Pearl’s little girl, Lil, on Wednesdays and Fridays. That arrangement allowed the twins to keep working at Cuppy C, two days each, every week.
Yes, you did hear right. Neither Amber nor Pearl would back down, so now Aunt Lucy had two granddaughters, both named Lil.
“Where’s Barry?”
“In the back garden.”
“Is he any better?”
“Not really. He didn’t even want to go for a walk yesterday.”
“That’s not a good sign. I’ll see if I can cheer him up.”
“Good luck. Do you want a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’ve just had a coffee.”
When Aunt Lucy had moved into her new house, the back garden had been overrun with weeds. The previous occupant, an elderly witch, had found the upkeep too much for her towards the end. Now though, it was back to its former glory—thanks to the long hours put in by Aunt Lucy, ably assisted by Lester.
Barry was lying on the path, staring out of the gate. Normally, when I came to see him, he was all over me like a rash, but since Hamlet’s death, he’d been much more subdued.
“Hi, Barry.”
“Hello.”
“How are you?”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure? You don’t look very happy.”
“I miss Hamlet.”
“We all do, but he wouldn’t want you to be sad, would he?”
“I can’t help it.”
“I’ve had an idea. Why don’t we see if we can get you another hamster?”
“It wouldn’t be Hamlet.”
“I know, but—”
“I don’t want another hamster.”
“Okay, that’s understandable. How about we go to Everything Rodent to see if they have any other pets you might like.”
“What kind of pet?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t we see what they have? What do you say?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Great. Come on, then. There’s no time like the present.”
***
Bill Ratman was behind the counter in Everything Rodent.
“Morning, you two. I heard about Hamlet. My condolences to both of you.”
“Thanks, Bill. I thought we might get Barry another pet.”
“Another hamster?”
“No!” Barry said. “Don’t want a hamster.”
“Of course. I understand. What did you have in mind?”
“We’re open to suggestions,” I said. “In your experience, what would make the best pet for a dog?”
“After hamsters? I’d say tortoises.”
“That sounds like a great idea. What do you think, Barry?”
“They have shells.” He perked up for the first time that morning. “I like shells.”
“A tortoise it is, then.” I looked around. “Where are they?”
“Tortoises aren’t rodents.”
“Of course. Silly me. Any idea where we might get one?”
“You need Everything Reptile. It’s owned by my cousin, Truman.”
“Your cousin? Pets really do run in your family, don’t they?”
“Truman actually opened his shop first. In fact, he was the inspiration for me to open this place.”
Before we left, Bill gave Barry a handful of Barkies, which I was pleased to see he devoured enthusiastically.
“What do tortoises eat?” Barry asked, as we walked to Everything Reptile.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do they like Barkies?”
“I doubt it. I think they prefer leaves.”
“Yuk. Barkies are much better.”
Everything Reptile was deserted.
“Hello? Anyone in?” I shouted from the counter.
“Just a moment. I’m cleaning out the geckos.” The voice came from the room behind the counter.
“What’s a gecko, Jill?” Barry said.
“A kind of lizard, I think.”
“You’re correct.” A man appeared behind the counter. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Are you Truman?”
“That’s me. Truman Turtle at your service.”
“Turtle?” I laughed.
He didn’t.
“Sorry. Your cousin, Bill Ratman, suggested that we pay you a visit. I’m looking for a pet for Barry. Bill suggested a tortoise.”
“Tortoises are ideal companions for dogs.”
“What are those?” Barry pulled me across the shop.
“They look like baby crocodiles. I shouldn’t get too close.”
“I like these.” He stuck his nose even closer.
“Barry, don’t—”
“Ouch!” He jumped back. “It bit me.”
“Let me look. It’s okay. It didn’t break the skin.”
“I don’t like crocodiles.” He backed away.
“I’m pleased to hear that. Let�
��s go and check out the tortoises.”
While Barry had been investigating the crocodiles, Truman had been in the back room to get a tortoise.
“There’s been something of a run on tortoises over the last few days. This guy is the only one I have left.”
“I like him.” Barry’s tail was wagging like crazy. “Can I have him, Jill? Please?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Whilst I had no wish to speak ill of the dead, Hamlet had been quite a demanding rodent—he’d run me ragged at times. At least with a tortoise, I could look forward to a quiet life. So far, this one hadn’t even popped his head out of his shell—he was probably fast asleep.
I paid and was just about to leave the shop when it occurred to me that I didn’t know the tortoise’s name.
“Excuse me, Truman. What’s his name?”
Before he could answer, his phone rang.
“Everything Reptile. Truman speaking. How can I help?” He turned to me and mouthed the name.
“What is it?” Barry asked.
“I think he said it’s Dimes.”
After dropping Barry, and his new friend, back at Aunt Lucy’s house, I phoned Mrs V to see if there had been any messages. There hadn’t, and as I had no live cases, I decided to give myself the rest of the day off. At least, that way I’d have a little time to myself before Marceau arrived.
***
I hadn’t seen Mr Ivers in the toll booth for ages, and curiosity had finally got the better of me.
“Doesn’t Mr Ivers work here anymore?”
“Didn’t you hear?” The young man was obviously trying to grow a moustache, but with limited success.
“Hear what?”
“Ivers won the lottery. Jammy sod.”
“Really? When was that?”
“A couple of months back. He didn’t win the jackpot, but from what I heard, he cleared almost half a mil. Wish it had been me.”
“Me too.”
There was no justice in the world. Why couldn’t I win the lottery?
What? Yes, I do realise that I never buy a ticket, but that’s not the point, is it? It’s the principle that counts. Some people—me for example—are simply more deserving. That’s all I’m saying.
I’d only driven half-a-mile from the bridge when I noticed two people, dressed in overalls, by the side of the road—they appeared to be pruning back the bushes. As I got closer, I recognised one of them, so I pulled up a little further up the road and walked back.