by Adele Abbott
“Hi,” Gillian said. She was obviously still embarrassed by my intrusion.
“Hi. I’m sorry to have barged in like this.”
“Anyway,” Hamlet said. “If you don’t mind, we are rather busy.”
“Of course. Bye then. Bye, Gillian. Nice to have met you.”
Surreal.
Chapter 20
Wow! I might have expected such treachery from the twins, but I never would have thought that Aunt Lucy would abandon me too. Well, I’d show them. I’d find the best present ever for Grandma—one which would put their feeble offerings to shame.
Easier said than done, unfortunately. I’d spent the last hour walking around all the major shops in Washbridge, and so far, had not seen a single thing which I thought would fit the bill.
Exhausted, I dropped into a tiny tea room located on one of the back streets close to the bus station. It was called Tea Hee, and had a picture of a smiley face drinking a cup of tea as its logo.
I ordered a pot of tea for one, and eyed the display of muffins at the counter. I was conscious that I’d already had a blueberry muffin in Cuppy C. For that reason, I resisted the temptation to buy another, and instead bought a small strawberry cupcake.
What? It was only a small one! Sheesh!
As I ate the cupcake, I stared idly out of the window. And then I saw it. Immediately across the road from the tea room was a small specialist shop that would provide me with the ideal present for Grandma. Eat your heart out Aunt Lucy, Amber and Pearl.
The assistant in the shop had given me a strange look when I’d asked if she could gift-wrap my purchase. I couldn’t think why.
I’d just put it into the boot of my car when my phone rang. It was the woman herself.
“Hello, Grandma.”
“Get down to Ever!”
“You forgot the magic word.”
“Now!”
“What’s this all about?”
“I’ll tell you when you get down here.” And with that, she ended the call.
A woman of few words, that was Grandma. She could be infuriating, but I couldn’t simply ignore her request in case she had more news about the witchfinder.
“Have you made it up with Megan, yet?” Kathy asked, as soon as I walked through the door of Ever.
“Yes, but no thanks to you. Where’s Grandma?”
“Sunning herself.” Kathy gestured towards the roof.
I made my way up the stairs, and onto the roof terrace where the temperature seemed even higher than the last time I’d been there. Once again, the terrace garden was full of people sunning themselves, and knitting.
It took me a few moments, but then I spotted Grandma lying on a sun lounger at the far side of the roof terrace. She was wearing shorts and a vest top. Let me tell you, it was not a pretty sight.
“You called, Grandma?”
She sat up, removed her sunglasses, and took a sip of her cocktail.
“This is rather good,” she commented. “You really should try one.”
“I can’t drink. I have to drive home. What did you want me for?”
“Sit down.” She pointed to the vacant deckchair next to her.
Deckchairs and I had a history. I was hopeless at putting them up, and nervous of sitting in them.
“It’s okay. I prefer to stand.”
“As you wish.” She reached underneath the sun lounger, and pulled out a small, white cardboard box. “There you go.” She handed it to me.
“What is it?”
“Open it, and take a look.”
I nervously pulled open the lid. Inside were six miniature syringes each of them filled with a blue liquid.
“What’s this?”
“Shush! We don’t want anyone else to see them. It’s Brewflower.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Never mind that. Just make sure that you’ve got one of the syringes with you at all times. If the witchfinder strikes, and he will, plunge one into him. But don’t hesitate or it’ll be too late.”
“Okay, thanks.” I closed the lid, and slid the box into my bag.
When I made to leave, Grandma grabbed my hand. “I trust that you’ve picked out a nice present for my birthday?”
“I have. I think you’ll really like it.”
***
It seemed obvious to me that the owner of the Merry Widows forum must be behind the timeshare scam. No one else had access to the postal addresses of the members. To my surprise and delight, I discovered that the owner of the forum hadn’t bothered to hide his details when registering the domain name. The owner was a J.E. Penn who lived in New Manston, which was a fifteen-minute drive from Washbridge. The semi-detached house was unremarkable in a street full of identical houses.
“Yes?” A spotty young man, wearing jogging bottoms and a baggy sweatshirt answered the door.
“Are you J.E. Penn?”
“Yeah. Jonathan.”
Now I was confused. Mrs Rollo, Lily Padd and Kathy had all described the timeshare conman as being in his late fifties or early sixties, and bald.
“Are you the owner of the Merry Widows forum?”
“Yeah, but I’m not responsible for what people post on there, so if someone has upset you, don’t blame me.”
“This is much more important than that. Can I come in and talk to you?”
“No.”
“Okay. If you’d rather I call the police, then you can answer their questions instead.”
“There’s no need to involve the police.” He hesitated. “I suppose you’d better come in.”
He led the way into what had probably once been a dining room, but which now looked more like a student’s bedsit. On the table, was a computer and at least five empty pizza boxes.
“What’s this all about?” He sounded nervous.
“A number of your members have been conned out of significant amounts of money.”
“That’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Whoever did it found their victims on your forum. And, unless I’m mistaken you’re the only person who has access to the postal addresses of your members.”
“That’s true, but I’m not a conman. I work at the local bingo hall—behind the bar. The forum is just a side-line, which earns me a few extra quid from advertising. That’s all.”
“Do you live here alone?”
“No. This is my parents’ house. They’re both out at work.”
I glanced around, and caught sight of a photograph on the sideboard.
“Who’s that?”
“My mum and dad.”
“How long ago was it taken?”
“I don’t know. Twenty years probably.”
“And does your dad still look like that?”
“He wishes. He’s bald now.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a butcher.”
Penn Butchers was only three streets away, so I left the car, and made my way there on foot. There were no customers in the shop, so once I was inside, I turned the sign over so it read ‘Closed’.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the bald-headed man behind the counter said.
“Mr Penn, I take it?”
“Who are you? Turn that sign around!”
“Not until we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“About what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Holidays, maybe? What about timeshare holidays? I might be interested in a good timeshare deal. Do you know of any?”
His expression changed, and he grabbed the meat cleaver on the bench in front of him. “Get out! I have nothing to say to you.”
“That’s a pity because I have a lot to say to you. I take it that your son, Jonathan, isn’t aware that you’ve been trawling his forum for targets for your sordid little timeshare scam?”
“Get out!” He was red in the face now. “Get out or you’ll be sorry.”
I cast the ‘illusion’ spell.
“Am I supposed to be afraid of a lollipo
p?”
He glanced at the cleaver, but instead saw a large round lollipop. Confused, he threw it onto the floor. The next thing I knew, he’d leapt over the counter, and was headed for the door.
I combined an enchantment spell with the ‘tie-up’ spell, to bind him hand and foot with several links of sausage. When he tried to protest, I stuffed a black pudding into his mouth. That would keep him quiet for a while.
I jumped over the counter, opened the till, and took out the day’s takings. After pocketing those, I scribbled a note giving full details of the timeshare scam perpetrated by the butcher, and left it on the counter. On my way out, I made an anonymous call, using a ‘burner’ phone, to the local police, and told them they would find the man responsible for several timeshare scams tied up in Penn Butchers.
***
It was late when I got back to Washbridge, but I decided to call into the office just in case there were any urgent messages waiting for me. Mrs V had already gone home, but she’d left a note on her desk which read: there are no messages.
It had been a long day, but overall I felt that it had been a most productive one. I’d caught the timeshare conman, and was now sure I knew who was behind the NOCA extortion demands.
I was just about to leave when I caught a whiff of something. Something fishy. And it was coming from my office.
“Do you mind?” Winky was dressed in an evening suit, and looked quite dapper. Sitting at the table with him was a female cat in a pretty red dress.
“Sorry. I didn’t realise you were entertaining.”
“I did tell you.” Winky sighed. “Peggy, this is Jill. My human.”
“Pleased to meet you, Peggy. How’s the food?”
“Excellent,” Winky said.
“What’s going on here?” The voice came from the windowsill. It was Bella, and she didn’t look a happy pussy.
“Bella?” Winky looked horrified.
“Who’s that?” Peggy said.
“‘That’ is Winky’s girlfriend.” Bella spat the words.
“Girlfriend?” Peggy glared at Winky. “You told me you weren’t in a relationship.”
“You told her what?” Bella screamed.
Winky looked like a pussy caught in the headlights. “There’s a simple explanation for all of this.” He glanced from one of the cats to the other.
“Save it!” Peggy stood up, and slapped him across the face. Then both she and Bella disappeared out of the window.
Winky sat down; he looked shell-shocked.
“Shame to let all this food go to waste,” I said, taking a seat at the table.
What? Who are you calling heartless? I was hungry.
***
Back in Smallwash, I paid a visit to Mrs Rollo.
“Jill? I’m glad you came over, I was going to come around to see you.”
“Oh? What about?”
“I don’t like to speak out of turn, but I’m a little worried about the new man across the road.”
“Worried why?”
“Earlier today, there was the strangest noise coming from his house.”
“What kind of noise?”
“I don’t really know how to describe it. A kind of high-pitched wailing sound, as though a small creature was being tortured. Normally, I would have gone over and said something, but to be honest, he gives me the creeps.”
“He is a little strange, isn’t he? Thanks for the tip-off.” I took out the money I’d taken from the butcher’s till. “This is for you.”
“I don’t understand?”
“It’s a small part of the money that was taken from you by the conman. He’s been arrested, and should be charged with a number of similar scams. You may get your money back in time, but unfortunately, I can’t guarantee that. At least this will go some way towards compensating you.”
“I can’t take your money, Jill.”
“This isn’t my money. It belonged to the conman. He insisted that you have it.”
Chapter 21
Overnight, I’d been thinking about what Mrs Rollo had said. Rory Kilbride was up to something, and whatever it was, it had me worried. I couldn’t just stand around and wait for him to make a move. It was time for me to take the initiative—to strike first. But I would need help from someone who could keep a watch on the witchfinder without drawing too much attention to themselves. And who better than Rory Kilbride’s next door neighbour?
I waited until after Jack had gone to work, and then a little longer until Jen had left the house. As soon as she’d gone, I went over to Blake’s.
“Jill? You’re an early bird.”
“Can I come in?”
He led the way through to the kitchen.
“Do you want a drink?”
“No. I’m not staying. I’m here to ask for your help.”
“Anything. You’ve helped me often enough.”
“It’s your neighbour. The witchfinder.”
“You’re certain it’s him, then?”
“Ninety-nine per cent, but I haven’t been able to get a look at the nape of his neck yet. Once I’m sure he has the goblet tattoo, I’ll be able to act. But I need your help.”
“You want me to look for the tattoo?”
“No. That would be much too dangerous, but if I’m going to tackle him, I need to know more about the man.”
“What kind of thing?”
“Anything that you think might be useful. Does he ever have any visitors? Does he go out and come back at the same time each day? Also, if you would listen for any unusual noises, that could be useful. Mrs Rollo told me she heard some strange sounds coming from his house.”
“What kind of sounds?”
“She didn’t know, but it had her freaked out. The more you can tell me about the man, the better placed I’ll be when the time comes to make my move. I need you to be my eyes and ears when I’m not around.”
“Of course. I’ll do what I can, but I still don’t like the idea of you acting alone.”
“I’ll be okay. Better to strike first than to wait for him to make a move.”
***
My phone rang. It was Blaze.
“You were right, Jill! Thank you so much.”
“He was in the pet shop?”
“Yeah. He took a bit of finding because they have an awful lot of real snakes in there. I brought in a couple more rogue retrievers, and between us we managed to flush him out. He’s back behind bars in Candlefield now.”
“That’s great. What about the money?”
“It’s still inside the bank.”
“How do you mean?”
“Once we’d arrested him, he agreed to give up the location of the cash. It wasn’t going to do him any good back in Candlefield, and I persuaded him that it might mean a lighter sentence.”
“So, where is it?”
“Slippery Sam had found a way to get in and out of the bank from the pet shop, but he could only do it while in snake form. He hid the money in the bank with the intention of going back to collect it once all the fuss had died down. It’s in a bag underneath one of the large artificial plants—there’s plenty of room in those giant pots. The plants normally get swapped out about once every six months. Guess who was going to turn up, posing as an operative from the company that supplies the plants?”
“Slippery Sam.”
“Precisely. He’d already organised the van and uniform.”
“Is the money still there? Underneath the plant?”
“Yeah, but not for long. I’ve posted a note through the letterbox, addressed to the bank manager, telling him where he’ll find his money.”
“I wonder what he’ll make of that?”
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall when he looks under the plant. Anyway, thanks again, Jill. You may have saved my job.”
“No problem, Blaze. Glad I could help.”
***
I was confident that I knew who was behind the NOCA extortion demands, but I didn’t want to show my hand until I
had covered all the bases. Mr Bobo, the clown who’d just been murdered, had lived not far from Washbridge. It had taken me a while to contact his widow who was no doubt trying to avoid the press. When I finally managed to get hold of her, and explained that I was working for NOCA, she agreed to see me.
The quaint little bungalow was called ‘The Little Top’. Barbara Berry was in her mid-sixties.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs Berry.”
“Anything to help bring Bobo’s murderer to justice.”
She must have seen the puzzled look on my face because she continued, “It must sound strange to hear me call him Bobo, but it’s what I used to call him all the time. His name was Percival, but he hated that, and he hated Percy even more. Did you know that we were a double act?”
“No, I had no idea.”
“I went under the name of Lulu. Bobo and Lulu.”
“Was that what he called you? Lulu?”
“No.” She managed a weak smile. “Only on stage. I was always Barb to him.”
The living room was full of photographs—most of them of Bobo and Lulu.
“I was the one who got him into clowning,” she said. “I’ve been obsessed with them since I was a child.”
“It appears that you both enjoyed it.”
“We did. After the kids had grown up and left home, it became our life. We only ever did it for charitable events; we never made any money out of it. But we had a lot of fun, and we gave a lot of pleasure to others.”
“I take it that the police are treating this as murder?”
“At the moment, they’re calling it a suspicious death, but I don’t see that it can be anything other than murder.”
“I realise this is difficult for you, but do you think you could talk me through exactly what happened?”
“I’ll do my best.” She took a seat in one of the armchairs. I sat opposite her, on the sofa. “Bobo was trying out a new prop—an exploding dicky bow. It should just have made a loud bang, and given off a lot of smoke. But instead, it practically took his head off.”
She began to cry. I waited several minutes until she was able to compose herself again.
“Did he by any chance buy the prop from Clown’s List?”