by Sibel Hodge
I sighed. Usually, Brad would help me with stuff like that, but he was tied up with Camel Hoof. Not literally, I hoped. ‘I’ll have to get Dad to help. And I bet Tia would. She’s always itching to get involved in investigating.’
‘Ooh, can I? Can I? Can I? That would be totally awesome!’ Tia suddenly appeared in the doorway carrying a bag of doughnuts and two cups of coffee. Today she wore yellow leggings, furry red boots, a fluffy yellow jumper, and red lipstick. She looked like Big Bird. How could she tail someone wearing that lot?
Bouncing up and down with excitement, she spilled some coffee out of one of the cups. ‘Oopsie. Better clear that up.’ She dumped the doughnuts and coffee on my desk and disappeared to find a cloth to clean up the brown stain on the carpet.
‘Bless her,’ I said. ‘If she thinks a stakeout is going to be exciting, you’re obviously not spicing up her life enough.’ I raised an eyebrow at Hacker.
My mobile rang as Tia reappeared to clean up the mess. ‘Morning, Foxy,’ Brad’s sexy Australian accent sounded down the phone.
‘Morning. How was your night? I hope Aleesha didn’t try and play tents with you while you were smeared in jam.’
He chuckled. ‘I’ve had better nights.’
I sat forward in the chair. What did that mean? Better what? ‘Better nights in general or better sex?’
‘How could you even think I’d have sex with her? I’m a one-woman guy, and that woman is you.’
Was I being unfair, thinking something might happen between them? Probably, but would you trust Aleesha with your man? Nope, didn’t think so. I mean, I know it takes two to tango, and all that, but Aleesha practically served sex on a plate.
‘How was your night?’ Brad asked.
‘Boring. Hopefully, I’ll solve the case today, and we can get rid of Aleesha.’ Wishful thinking. And I definitely had something in mind to do with that jam.
‘I hope so. If she says “Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad” in a whiney voice one more time, I’m changing my name.’
‘Yeah, good luck with that.’
‘Another letter and pair of knickers arrived this morning in the post.’ Brad’s tone turned serious.
‘What did it say?’
‘It said, “You won’t be alive much longer, bitch, so enjoy it while you can.”’
‘Catchy. Maybe Hallmark will use it.’
‘Foxy?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I love you, and I can’t wait until Vegas. Six days to go.’
I smiled, and my stomach did a gooey little ‘ahhhhhhhhh’. ‘Me, too.’ Six days, and I still needed to get the undies, manicure, and bikini wax. I hung up and stared at the phone with a goofy grin plastered all over my face.
‘Er…Amber, there’s someone in reception to see you,’ Tia said from the doorway. ‘He said his name’s Dr Spork.’
I sniggered. I couldn’t help myself. Maybe he’d come to confess. I seriously hoped so.
He looked like he’d had a bit of a spruce up from yesterday. His hair was semi-tidy, tied back in a ponytail with a red scrunchie. He held a package, wrapped up in pink paper with a pink bow on top. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as I stood in front of him.
‘Dr Spork. How are you today?’ I eyed the package suspiciously.
He shrugged. ‘I’m OK, thanks.’ He thrust the package at me and ran out the door before I could say anything else.
I glanced over at Tia, who raised her eyebrows in a big question.
Uh-oh. I had a horrible feeling. Whenever anyone sent me packages, it was never good. I’d had human noses, foxes’ heads, spiders, and all sorts. I could take a guess what was in this one. For once, why couldn’t someone send me something nice? Was that too much to ask?
I tore off the pink paper. Inside was a cardboard packet that contained a pair of chocolate knickers and a note.
I groaned, unfolding the note as Tia stood over my shoulder and read with me:
‘I love you, Amber, and I know you love me, too. The Sporkites told me last night in a dream that we’ll be together soon, but in the meantime, please wear the chocolate knickers so you’ll be thinking of me.
All my love
Dr Spork xx’
Icky, icky, ick. My skin crawled, and I fought the urge to scratch myself. It looked like Suzy’s therapy wasn’t working after all. Still, one thing was certain. I know people can disguise their writing, and Hacker had some handwriting analysis software on one of his computers that would confirm it, but I was pretty sure by looking at the love note that it wasn’t the same handwriting as the threatening letters Aleesha had been getting. So the good news was I’d soon be able to eliminate him as a suspect, hopefully. The bad news was that I was now the subject of his erotomania.
‘Ew,’ Tia said. ‘That’s gross.’ She pulled the knickers out of the box and examined them. ‘That’s not even real chocolate, is it?’
‘I dread to think what it is.’
‘Ooh, talking of chocolate, did you have one of the choccie doughnuts I left on your desk? They’re super fab.’
‘No.’
‘No?’ she practically shrieked in my ear. ‘Quick, go and get one before you pass out from lack of sugar.’ She peered at me. ‘I think you’re losing weight, and you won’t be able to fit in the dress Dad made.’
Tia’s dad was the famous fashion designer, Umberto Fandango, whose life I’d saved once. He’d designed my amazing wedding dress and fitted it to perfection for me.
‘OK, I’ll have a sniff of one.’ I left her with the knickers.
‘What do you want me to do with these?’ She hurried after me and waved the knickers under my nose.
Hacker looked up from his desk, eyes lit up as he stared at Tia and the knickers. ‘I can think of something.’ He gave her a sexy grin.
She stopped waving them and grinned saucily back.
I looked between both of them as they gave each other ‘let’s-try-them-out-later’ looks.
‘Get a room!’ I rolled my eyes.
Tia let out an embarrassed cough. ‘Right. Well, I’ll just get rid of these then, shall I?’ She disappeared back to the reception desk. I heard her unzip her handbag and zip it up again.
Handing Hacker the love note from Dr Spork and the threatening letter Aleesha had given me, I said, ‘I’m pretty sure the same person didn’t write these, but I need you to compare them with your super-duper software.’
‘Sure thing. I’ll let you know.’
I downed the now cold coffee that Tia had brought, sniffed a doughnut as promised, and grabbed my rucksack, heading out the door before anyone sent me anything else.
I dialled Suzy on the hands-free as I drove to Jessie’s house. ‘Hey, sis, how’s things?’
‘And to what do I owe the pleasure of an early morning phone call?’
Why was I surrounded by people who couldn’t answer the phone like normal people? A simple ‘Hello, how are you?’ would be nice.
‘A big, cheery good morning to you, too,’ I said. ‘I’m very well, thanks for asking. How are you on this fine and chirpy morning?’
I think I heard a ‘Hmmph’ on the other end, followed by, ‘What do you want? I’m very busy.’
‘I think you need to get Dr Spork back in your office quick. He’s sending me love notes and knickers now.’
She gasped. ‘Not possible. He’s cured of the erotomania.’
‘Oh, no he isn’t.’
‘Oh, yes, he is.’
Before this quickly turned into a pantomime script, I said, ‘You told me yourself it could reoccur. Hypnotize him, or give him some electric shock treatment, or a lobotomy, or…I don’t know, something, whatever it is you do.’
I got a bigger gasp that time. ‘Electric shock treatment? Lobotomy? We’re not living in the Dark Ages, you know. Psychiatry has come a long way from electric shock treatment and lobotomies.’
‘Well, maybe you should start using them again. I got an electric shock off the toaster once, and I couldn’t remember anything for a couple of secon
ds. Imagine if you gave him a full blast. You could knock the erotomania right out of him.’
She sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Well, whatever you do, do it fast.’
She hung up on me then, and I stuck my tongue out, even though she couldn’t see me. The young girl in the car next to me could, though. She stuck hers out in return and gave me a two-finger salute. I dreaded to think how many road rage incidents had been caused by mistake.
****
I pulled up outside Jessie’s detached house in the nearby village of Sawbridgeworth at nine a.m. Posh and Becks used to own Beckingham Palace there. Jessie’s house was nowhere near as big and grand, but it must’ve set her back a hefty amount. Before she got her slot on Real Women, Jessie had been in the popular soap The Village. She’d started on the show as a child actress and grown up in front of the viewers’ eyes, until they killed her off in a spectacular car accident. Apparently, it was Jessie’s decision to leave The Village to try moving into film work, but after her one and only film role flopped, she’d moved onto daytime TV. Jessie always seemed to have a lot of fans, though, so I was surprised she’d been axed from Real Women. I hoped, for her sake, she had some other work lined up.
My feet crunched on the gravel driveway as I made my way to her heavy wooden front door. Ringing the bell, I glanced around. Bushes hid the overgrown garden from prying eyes on the street. The curtains were closed. The porch light had been left on all night and had attracted a ton of moths. I stepped back a notch, not wanting to get one of those buggers in my hair. I’d probably never find it again in all the curls, and it might lay eggs.
I waited a few minutes before ringing the bell again. The curtain twitched at a front window. Half of Jessie’s face came into view before disappearing behind the curtain again.
‘Go away!’ she yelled from inside. ‘I don’t want to sign anymore autographs.’
I bent down, opened the letterbox, and said, ‘I’m not an autograph hunter. My name’s Amber Fox, and I’m investigating some threats Aleesha’s been receiving.’
‘That bitch? She deserves them. Go away!’
‘No, I really need to talk to you.’ I’d stay there all day if I had to. I had a case to solve and a wedding to look forward to. Plus, I still needed my lady bits waxing. ‘I’m staying here until you answer my questions.’
‘Are you from the police?’
‘No, I’m an investigator with Hi-Tec Insurance.’
‘What’s insurance got to do with Aleesha?’
‘She’s got life insurance with us.’ I whispered, ‘unfortunately,’ under my breath. ‘If anything happens to her, we’ll have to pay out a claim, so I’m investigating the threats.’
She yanked the door open suddenly. The last time I’d seen her on TV, she was perfectly made up, with her choppy black bob all glossy and neat. Today her skin was blotchy, and her hair was more scarecrow than sleek. She wore a dressing gown that looked like she’d lived in it for a week.
‘Have you got any ID?’ She narrowed her eyes with suspicion.
I pulled out my staff ID and handed it over for her to peruse.
Satisfied, she thrust it back in my direction. ‘Well, hurry up, then. I haven’t got all day.’ She stood back to let me in and slammed the door shut.
‘Thanks. Have you got another show to get to?’ I tucked my ID into my pocket and followed her down the cream hallway, into a large conservatory at the back of the house.
‘No. Not thanks to Aleesha.’ She sat in a rattan two-seater sofa, tucking her legs underneath her and picking at a bitten fingernail with chipped nail varnish.
I sat opposite. ‘I heard about what happened with you getting fired from Real Women.’
She went into picking overdrive but didn’t look up. ‘Yes. God, that woman is so conniving. She set out to get Steve and my job. I hate her. We were engaged, you know, but she thinks any man is fair game. You should see her.’ She threw a hurt gaze my way. ‘She comes over all nice and seductive until she’s got her claws into a guy and got what she wants from him. She doesn’t care who she hurts in the process.’ Jessie sniffed. ‘And I haven’t had any other offers for work since my film flopped. That’s the trouble with show business. Everyone’s so fickle.’
I pushed the thought of Brad and Aleesha together out of my head again. Was Aleesha trying to get her fake nails into Brad at this very moment, like she did with Steve?
‘I’m sorry. It must’ve been very upsetting for you.’
‘Of course. It still is. I loved Steve, and I loved doing Real Women. I was really good at my job, too. ’ She threw a hand in the air in a hopeless gesture before it plopped onto her knee, and she resumed picking.
I knew how she felt, too. A while ago, my archenemy Detective Inspector Janice Skipper had connived to get me thrown off the police force. She’d gone to extraordinary lengths to block all my chances of promotion, make up lies about me, and take credit for investigations that I’d solved. And all because she was jealous of my relationship (at the time) with Romeo and was after him herself. She tried every sneaky little thing she could to split us up. Maybe that’s why I was so wary of Aleesha’s obvious interest in Brad. I’d been there before. If Aleesha was anything like Janice Skipper, and I suspected she was, I knew she’d stop at nothing to get what she wanted and wreck people’s lives in the process. Oh, yes, I knew all about vicious women and had a great deal of sympathy for Jessie.
‘Were you upset enough to threaten to kill her?’ I asked.
She glanced up sharply. ‘What’s that cow said to you?’
‘Actually, it wasn’t Aleesha that told me you threatened her at the studio. Apparently, a lot of people heard it.’ I wondered why Aleesha hadn’t told me that little snippet of information herself, but then she hadn’t really been that forthcoming. Maybe she was embarrassed about what she’d done. Nah. I instantly dismissed that idea. Silly me. Aleesha didn’t seem embarrassed about any of her actions.
Jessie’s lips pursed together. ‘Yes, I admit I threatened to kill her, which wasn’t very professional of me. But after what happened with her and Steve, I couldn’t believe she was getting my slot on the show, too. I was furious and upset when I found out, which is why I flew off the handle. I bet loads of people threaten to kill people every day and never act on it. It’s just a figure of speech.’ Her sad brown eyes met mine.
That was true. I’d threatened to kill Suzy numerous times when we were growing up, especially that time when she stole my Doctor Who collection of plastic daleks and pulled their exterminating guns off. I’d spent months saving up my pocket money to buy them and they were ruined in a couple of minutes.
‘Why would I want to waste my time and energy threatening Aleesha? I don’t want anything to do with her ever again. And anyway, I’m not going to let it ruin my life. I’ll get some more TV work eventually, and I’ll get a better man, too. One who won’t cheat on me.’ She looked up into my eyes, her chin raised with determination.
‘So, you haven’t been sending her letters or any packages of knickers?’
‘What? No! Of course I haven’t.’
I believed she was telling the truth. Even though she was an actress, the shock on her face seemed 100% genuine to me. It must’ve been tough to be a child star, with all that expectation and pressure in the dog-eat-dog world of show business, but there was still a hint of innocence in her eyes. Although Jessie was upset, as I would be, she seemed like a strong character who would bounce back from this. And somehow, I couldn’t really see her lowering herself to send Aleesha threatening letters.
‘You know, if it’s any consolation, Steve wants you back.’
‘Well, he can go fuck himself!’ She picked a piece of skin from around her fingernail and drew blood.
OK, maybe not that innocent.
‘I wouldn’t touch him now after he’s been with that tart. You don’t know what she’s got.’
‘If he’s prepared to cheat on you, you don’t deserve him
anyway.’
‘Thanks.’
I stood up and smiled. ‘Well, good luck with the job hunting. I hope you find something.’
Another possible suspect had just bit the dust.
Chapter 8
Next stop, Curtis Jones. I knew the address since Curtis now lived on the same run-down housing estate as Dr Spork. Oh, what joy. Either I’d get another word-slinging genius defacing the car again, or I might get chocolate-knickered to death. I couldn’t decide which was worse.
I parked the car and glanced around for any yobs. A scruffy stray cat with a ripped ear and dirty face looked a bit mean and vicious, but since it was highly unlikely he could claw graffiti into the metal, I thought it would be safe. Curtis lived on the fourth floor, so I hoped Dr Spork wouldn’t be out and about and spot me. Plus, it was Tuesday. With any luck, he was on an intergalactic journey to Planet Spork.
I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and banged on Curtis’s door.
It swung open, and a beefy guy in his early thirties with a bald head and tattooed sleeves on his arms said, ‘Are you from the council about the damp problem, because I can’t believe you’ve housed me in this place?’
My first thought was that Aleesha had very wide-ranging taste in men. Pretty much anything that had a pulse or…other bits. From rock stars to pop singers, racing car drivers, and plumbers, Aleesha didn’t discriminate. Maybe she’d win the Equal Opportunities Award one day. My second thought was that I wondered whether he actually polished his head, which was so shiny it looked he’d overdone it with the Mr Muscle and a duster.
‘Sorry, no, I’m not from the council.’ I tried not to stare at the sunlight reflecting off his head. ‘I’m Amber Fox. I need to ask you a few questions about some threats that Aleesha’s been getting.’
He narrowed his eyes at me. ‘I never want to hear that manipulating bitch’s name again.’ He leaned on the doorframe and folded his arms. ‘If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be living in this place. She’s ruined me. I used to have a lovely house in a nice part of town, and now I’m stuck in a damp bed sit.’