by Adele Abbott
“It was his life’s work. He was so disappointed when he couldn’t find a publisher who was prepared to take a gamble on it. These days, it seems like they’re only interested in books by celebrities. It’s a crying shame. It covers hundreds of creatures, including pictures of most of them.”
“Photos?”
“A few, but in most cases, they’re illustrations that Cuthbert drew himself.”
“He must have been multi-talented. Could I take a look at the book?”
“Why don’t you take it away with you? That way you can study it at your leisure.”
“Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Absolutely. Cuthbert would be thrilled it’s being put to some use rather than gathering dust in the attic.” She stood up. “I’ll go and get it for you now.”
***
After magicking myself back to Washbridge, I put the manuscript in the boot of my car, and then drove to Wash Bowl—Jack’s second home. The place was practically deserted with only two lanes in use.
The man behind the counter looked a bit like a bowling ball, with his round face and huge nostrils.
“My name is Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator.”
“Sorry?”
“Is it always so noisy in here?”
“This is nothing. You should hear it when all the lanes are going.”
“I said, I’m Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator. Do you know Jack Maxwell?”
“Shirtz? Of course. He’s one of our best customers.”
“What did you call him?”
“Shirtz. On account of how many bowling shirts he has.”
“Really? That’s very interesting. Well, Shirtz and I are getting married on Saturday.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Tommy.” He offered his hand. “Are you thinking of taking up the sport?”
“Me? No. It’s not really my scene, and besides, we already have enough bowling shirts in our house. No, the reason I’m here today, is Bill Mellor’s murder.”
“Terrible business. I was on duty the night he died. Bill was a fantastic bowler. He’d won the North of England Cup for the last three years in a row, and was favourite to win it again this year.”
“Did you know the others who were bowling with Bill and Jack that night?”
“Chris Jardine pretty much keeps himself to himself. I know Graham Hardy, obviously, because he works here part-time.”
“Oh? Doing what?”
“A bit of everything, really, but mainly helping with the machinery—maintenance, that sort of thing. In return, he gets free bowling and a bit of cash-in-hand. He’s been struggling a bit since he lost his job. Graham’s a mean bowler too. He’s been runner-up to Bill in the North of England Cup for the last three years. Is it true what I heard—that Chris Jardine murdered Bill?”
“He’s been charged with the murder, but we don’t believe he did it. That’s why I’m investigating, and why I’m here today. Jack said you had CCTV.”
“Yeah, inside and out.”
“Is there any chance of burning me a DVD of the footage from that night, so I can study it properly on my laptop?”
“Sure. Why don’t you help yourself to a drink while I’m doing it?”
***
Now, whenever I arrived home, I had to do a quick scan of the street for clowns.
What? No, of course I wasn’t afraid of them. I just—err—well, I just had better things to do than get caught up in conversation with someone wearing a red nose and ridiculously long shoes.
Fortunately, today, the street was a clown-free zone, but I did notice someone at the house next door to Breezy and Sneezy. A woman was struggling to carry something from her car, so being a good neighbour, I made my way over there to help.
“Do you need a hand?”
She looked up, and I could see now what she was carrying: A large reel of cable.
“Thanks. That would be great. This is much heavier than I thought.”
I grabbed one end, and between us, we easily got it into the house.
“Thanks, you’re a life saver. I’m Pauline Maker.”
“Jill. We live just across the road.”
“Nice to meet you. Shawn was supposed to collect the cable, but he had to visit his mother.”
“Shawn?”
“He’s my husband.”
“I live with Jack. We’re getting married on Saturday.”
“Really? Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“Have you met the clowns next door?” She blushed. “Oh dear. I hope you don’t think I was being mean. They really are clowns.”
“It’s okay. I’ve already met Sneezy and Breezy.”
“Would you like a cup of tea, Jill? It’s the least I can do.”
“Thanks. Maybe another time. I really should get going.”
“Okay. Thanks again for the help.”
“No problem.”
Jack was already home.
“Hello, Gorgeous.” He welcomed me with a kiss. “Had a good day?”
“Not bad, Shirtz.” I grinned.
“Who told you?”
“Tommy at Wash Bowl. He burned me a copy of the CCTV from Tuesday night. I thought we could look at it together after dinner.”
“Okay. Did I just see you across the road at the new neighbours’ house?”
“Yeah. Their names are Pauline and Shawn. Hopefully these two turn out to be okay. We’re overdue some normal neighbours, what with the clowns, the cosplayers and Mr Ivers.”
After dinner, Jack and I sat at the kitchen table with the laptop, to watch the CCTV from the bowling alley.
“Tommy was really helpful today.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“He told me that he’d paid for his holidays last year with the profit from your bowling shirt purchases.”
“You’re so funny.”
“This is the view from the camera that covered your lane.” I pointed to the screen. “There you are.”
On screen were four figures: two standing on the far lane, two on the near one.
“Look at Bill, laughing,” Jack said. “That was after I’d missed a spare in the first frame.”
To ensure we didn’t miss anything, we watched the recording at normal speed. It was pretty boring—not helped by the fact that Jack insisted on describing every shot in detail.
“Chris did well to make that spare. That was the turning point in the match.”
“Really?” Yawn. “Where did Graham just disappear to?” I pointed to the screen.
Jack thought about it for a few seconds. “Oh yeah, I remember. The balls got stuck so Graham went around the back to clear them.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“More often than it should. The equipment at Wash Bowl is really old. They could do with getting it all replaced, but I doubt they can afford it. It’s not so bad when Graham is with us because he can go and sort it out. Otherwise, we have to press the ‘call’ button and wait until someone gets around to doing it.”
I restarted the recording, and after a few minutes, we saw Graham Hardy go over to the seats, and take his phone out of his jacket pocket. Moments later, he spoke to the others and then left.
“I assume that’s when Graham told you he had to leave, to go and see his brother?”
“Yes.”
When the on-screen match was over, I switched to the second CCTV recording, which covered the car park.
“That’s us.” Jack pointed at the image of three men walking into view.
“Look,” I said. “Chris is giving Bill a cigarette.”
The Jack on screen climbed into his car and drove away. Moments later, Bill and Chris went their separate ways. It was eerie to think that only a few minutes after that, Bill would be dead.
“It’s so sad,” Jack said. “Bill had been so happy when I left him. Did you spot anything on that footage?”
“No, but I think I’m going to give it another run through.”
“I have an early start in the morning, so I’ll have to leave you to it.”
We kissed, and Jack went up to bed. I grabbed a couple (that’s my version of a couple, obviously—snigger) of custard creams and a cup of tea, then settled down to view the footage again.
This time, I spotted a few things that warranted further investigation.
Chapter 16
The next morning, by the time I’d dragged myself downstairs, Jack had already left for work. The sausages were calling to me, but I had a wedding dress to get into on Saturday, so I ignored them, and settled for a bowl of cereal.
I was just about to sit at the kitchen table when I heard what sounded like a lorry in the street outside. Being naturally curious (no, not nosey), I went through to the lounge and opened the curtains. Pauline, whom I’d met for the first time the day before, and a man, whom I assumed was her husband, but whose name I’d already forgotten, were guiding the lorry onto their drive. Moments later, two men climbed out of the vehicle and began to unload their delivery. From what I could make out, it appeared to comprise of a number of steel panels of various sizes. I was intrigued (no, still not nosey), but I couldn’t think of a good excuse to go over there and ask what they were up to.
By the time I left the house, the lorry had gone, and there was no sign of Pauline or her husband.
“Morning, Jill.”
Oh bum! I’d been caught by the Ivers.
“Morning, Mr Ivers. I’m just on my way to work.”
“Me too. The home-movie rental business won’t run itself.”
“I guess not. See you later, then.”
“Did you know your brother-in-law has signed up with Have Ivers Got A Movie For You?”
“So I heard.” Sucker.
“If he recommends a friend or family member, he and they both get a free month.”
“Right.” Who cares?
“Has he been in touch with you about it yet?”
“Err—no. Anyway, I’d better get—”
“You should have a word with him. Maybe he’s forgotten.”
“Yeah, okay. Bye, then.” I dived into the car.
Sanctuary.
***
When I arrived at my offices, there was a note pinned to the outer door, which read:
There are no jumpers being made on these premises. None at all.
I tore it down and went inside.
“Phew.” Mrs V sighed. “It’s only you, Jill. I thought it might be the counterfeit squad.”
“I’m not sure there is such a thing.” I held up the scrap of paper. “I assume you stuck this to the door.”
“I thought it might put them off the scent.”
“Do you think maybe you’re over-reacting a tad?”
“I don’t want a criminal record. What would Armi think?”
“I’ve seen dozens of those jumpers around Washbridge. Even if the counterfeit squad was a thing, which it isn’t. And even if they decided to prosecute someone, which is unlikely. The person they’ll go after is Grandma. It certainly isn’t you.”
“I do hope you’re right, Jill. I don’t think I could survive for long on prison food.”
“I give you my word. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Winky was on the sofa, looking particularly sorry for himself.
“Good morning, Winky.”
“Not really.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“If you must know, my dinner date didn’t go very well last night.”
“What went wrong?”
“If you ask me, she made a mountain out of a molehill. It was a simple mistake that anyone could have made.”
“I assume you’re talking about Trixie?”
“No. Daisy.”
“I thought it was Trixie who was coming over?”
“Therein lies the problem. I’d got it into my head that it was Trixie who was coming over for dinner, but it turned out to be Daisy. Halfway through the starter, I inadvertently called Daisy, Trixie.”
“Oh dear.”
“I managed to talk my way out of that one. I told her that Trixie was my cousin who I’d been talking to earlier.”
“And she bought that?”
“Yeah, but then I made the mistake of leaving my phone on the table while I went to get the dessert out of the fridge. Judy chose that precise moment to call me. Daisy saw the name come up on screen, and she totally lost the plot. I mean, there was no call for what she did.” He rubbed his head. “Have you ever tried to get jelly out of your fur?”
I couldn’t answer because I was laughing too much.
I intended to pay another visit to the bowling alley, but as it didn’t open until midday, I thought I’d spend an hour or so looking through the manuscript that Deloris Shuttlebug had kindly loaned to me. It was rather unimaginatively titled: Exotic Creatures of Candlefield.
“What’s that you’re reading?” Winky jumped onto my desk.
“I thought you were busy feeling sorry for yourself.”
“There’s no point in losing sleep over Daisy. I’ve still got Judy and Trixie. I’m more annoyed about the jelly. So, what is it you’re reading?”
“It’s a manuscript about the exotic creatures that live in Candlefield.”
“What’s that ugly looking thing?” He pointed to the open page.
“It’s a pouchfeeder. I had a run-in with one of those some time ago.”
“Rather you than me. Why the sudden interest in exotic creatures? Aren’t I exotic enough for you?”
“I’m trying to identify one in particular.”
Just then, Winky’s phone rang.
“Hi, babe. Of course I’ve missed you.” He jumped off my desk and disappeared under the sofa, to continue his conversation. For his sake, I hoped he didn’t get the names mixed up again.
The variety of creatures featured in the book was truly astounding. There were a few that I recognised: the scarlet horned dragon, for example. Some of them were terrifying; others, like the marmadellow, were unbearably cute. Cuthbert Shuttlebug had not only spent years on research, he’d also produced fabulous illustrations for the majority of creatures. The man had obviously been an accomplished artist.
And then I saw it: the aurochilla.
The illustration certainly resembled Fluff, and the accompanying text confirmed it.
Excited, I called Desdemona Nightowl.
“Headmistress, it’s Jill.”
“You sound very upbeat. Does that mean you have good news for me?”
“I think so.”
“Who is the thief? Please tell me that it isn’t one of the pupils.”
“I can put your mind at ease on that score.”
“Thank goodness. Who is it, then?”
“Would it be possible to come over and see you later today? I can fill you in then.”
“Of course. How about this afternoon?”
“That’ll be fine. Could we meet in the Nomad girls’ dorm?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Can you ensure that everyone who has had anything stolen is there?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
“Oh, and headmistress, could you make sure Felicity Charming is there too?”
“Err—yes, I suppose so.”
“Great. See you later.”
Winky had finished on the phone and was looking much happier with life.
“Did you manage to remember her name this time?” I said.
“You know what they say about sarcasm, don’t you?”
“That it’s the highest form of wit?”
“You clearly think so. That was Judy. She invited me to go away with her this weekend.”
“Lucky you.”
“I had to tell her no, but she understood when I explained that I’d promised to be your pagecat.”
“Don’t worry your head about that. You should go with Judy.”
“Certainly not. I couldn’t let you down. My word is my bond. I promised to be there for your special day, and there I’ll be.”
Oh bum! Now I felt really bad.
***
Tommy wasn’t behind the counter in Wash Bowl today. Instead, a tall, slim young man, with curly hair and a beard, was talking on his phone while picking his teeth. Who said the young couldn’t multi-task?
“What size?” he said when he noticed me.
“Sorry?”
“What size shoes do you want?”
“I’m not here to bowl.”
“I can’t give you change for the vending machines.”
“I don’t need change. I’d like a word with Tommy.”
“It’s his day off. Gone t’zoo.”
“Gontzoo?”
He sighed. I was clearly testing his patience. “He’s gone t’zoo. Took his nipper to see giraffes and stuff.”
“The zoo? Right. Look, I spoke to Tommy yesterday about—”
“Sorry, babe, I’ve got to go,” he said into the phone, and then in a hushed voice. “There’s some weird woman here doing my nut in.”
“I’m very sorry to be doing your nut in, but I’d like to take a look backstage at the machinery.”
“Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m a private investigator. I spoke to Tommy yesterday.”
“He didn’t say anything to me about no private investor.”
“Investigator. Can you give him a call?”
“He’s gone t’zoo.”
“So?”
“If his phone rings, it might frighten the giraffes.”
“I just need a quick look around the back at the machinery that operates the skittles.”
“Pins. They’re called pins.”
“Whatever. Can I take a quick look?”
“No. H and S.”
“What?”
“Health and Safety. Only staff allowed back there.”
“You can accompany me.”
“I can’t leave this desk.”
“Is there anyone else on duty?”
“Just me. Tommy’s—”
“Gone t’zoo. Yeah, I know. Never mind.”