by Adele Abbott
“Biddy? Yeah, it’s always the same when they’re together. I had thought I’d left all this behind when we moved here, but it looks like Biddy is determined to move in with us. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand it. I might have to move back to Candlefield.”
“There’s no need for you to move out.”
“It might be easier all round. Biddy can have this house, and I’ll find a new one in Candlefield.”
“I thought there was a shortage of housing for starlight fairies in Candlefield?”
“There is, but I’m sure I’ll find somewhere. Eventually.”
“No. That’s not fair. This is your home as much as Bunty’s.”
“I don’t see what choice I have.”
“Leave it with me, Greta. I’ll sort something out.”
Despite his promise to Greta, Charlie had no idea how he was going to tell Bunty that her friend wasn’t welcome. Bunty wasn’t exactly the most reasonable of people to deal with.
“Morning, Charlie.” Susan greeted him when he came out of his bedroom.
“Morning, everyone.”
Neil nodded. Dorothy grunted.
“Who needs a lift this morning?” Neil asked, as he added his cup to the pile of pots.
Dorothy raised a hand and grunted.
“Me too, please,” Charlie said. “I have an early morning commuter class.”
“You’d both better look sharp then. I’m leaving in fifteen minutes, with or without you.”
Dorothy grunted again, and then made her way into her bedroom to get ready. Neil disappeared into his bedroom too.
“Susan,” Charlie said in a hushed voice. “Would you do me a favour?”
“I will, if I can.”
“Would you feed Pretty? I can’t stay back for her today.”
“Sure. Where’s her food?”
“It’s in the cupboard with the cleaning materials. At the back. And check if Dorothy has marked the milk. If she has, just wipe off the mark with your finger, would you?”
“Okay, but I’ll only be able to do it if the cat turns up before I’m due to leave.”
“Don’t worry. She will.”
But she didn’t.
Susan checked her watch. Another five minutes, and she would have to leave or she’d be late for work. She’d checked several times to see if Pretty was there, but there was no sign of her. Susan didn’t want to let Charlie down—he’d done more than anyone to try to make her feel welcome—but what could she do?
She checked on the landing one last time.
“Pretty! Pretty!” Susan felt very self-conscious calling the cat—it wouldn’t have been so bad if the feline had had a different name.
“Where’s Charlie?”
The female voice made Susan jump. She turned around to find a young woman on her way down the stairs—she had Pretty in her arms.
“He had to go in early. Is Pretty your cat?”
“Goodness, no.” The young woman put the cat down. “I don’t like cats. I’m Amelia—Charlie’s girlfriend.”
“Oh?” Had Susan missed something? She had no idea that Charlie had a girlfriend. “Charlie asked me to feed the cat.”
“You’d better get on with it then,” Amelia snapped.
Why on earth would someone as nice as Charlie hook up with this horrible person, Susan wondered as she followed Pretty into the apartment. Before she had the chance to close the door behind her, Amelia followed her inside.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Amelia stood over Susan as she fed the cat.
“Not at the moment.”
“Has Craig from downstairs been around?”
“I think he popped in last night before I got home.”
“Good. The sooner he has that sorted, the better.”
“Sorry? Has what sorted?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Amelia turned and left.
Susan was glad to be on her way to work. She’d been happy to help Charlie out by feeding Pretty, but she could have done without his horror of a girlfriend breathing down her neck. And what was all that cryptic stuff about Craig?
***
Just as she’d planned, Dorothy arrived at the bookshop before Molly. As she walked towards the staff room, she gave a cursory glance at the Crime section—confident that it would be in order—just as she’d left it the previous night.
But it wasn’t, and that stopped her dead in her tracks.
The top shelf of the bookcase was full of all manner of books—many of them not even in the crime genre, and none of them were filed alphabetically by author. That simply wasn’t possible; she’d made a point of checking, and then double-checking, before she locked up the previous evening.
“Hi!” Molly walked through the door.
“Have you been in already, this morning?”
“No, I just got here.”
“Did you come back again last night after I’d locked up?”
“No. Why would I? What’s up?”
“Look!” Dorothy pointed.
“It’s the same as yesterday.”
“I can see that, but how? I double-checked all the shelves before I locked up, and it wasn’t like this then.”
“What do you think is going on, Dorothy?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Does that spotty kid next door still have the hots for you?”
“Nobby? Yeah, probably. He always tries to talk to me whenever I see him. I think he hangs around the front of the shop in the morning, just to bump into me.”
“Good. He can probably help.”
“How?”
“Come on. Let’s go talk to him.”
Dorothy led Molly next door into the computer repair shop. Or as the two girls usually referred to it: Nerd Central.
Judging by the way Nobby’s face lit up when he spotted Molly, he definitely did still have the hots for her—not that he stood a chance—poor guy.
“Nobby, we need your help,” Dorothy said.
“Sure.” He replied without once looking at Dorothy. He had eyes only for Molly. “Just name it.”
“We need some way to monitor our shop at night, but we don’t have any money. Can you help?”
“Yeah. No problem.”
Dorothy followed little of what Nobby went on to say. It had something to do with webcams and URLs. The gist of it was that he would install a cheap webcam pointed at the Crime aisle. That would record all activity during the hours when the shop was closed. Nobby gave them a web site address which they could use to check the recording, the following morning.
“Thanks, Nobby. You’re an angel,” Dorothy said, as she and Molly made for the door.
“No problem. I’ll be around later to set up the webcam.”
“He’s so sweet,” Dorothy said to Molly when they were back in the bookshop. “You should definitely go out on a date with him.”
***
Stella was in the new office. As Susan made her way over there, her path was blocked by the dynamic duo: Dougal Andrews and Bob Bragg.
“This isn’t right,” Andrews said.
“Care to elaborate?”
“That office.” He gestured. “You’ve only been here for five minutes. There are more senior people who should have got first dibs.”
“Dibs? How old are you? And by ‘other people’, I assume you mean yourself?”
“Or Bob. Or any number of senior reporters.”
“It was Flynn’s idea. If you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with him.”
“Flynn will soon be out on his ear, and then you can kiss goodbye to your shiny new office.”
“A pleasure to speak to you as always, Dougal. Now, if you don’t mind.” She pushed past them.
“Are you okay, Susan?” Stella said. “I saw them accost you.”
“Fine. They don’t worry me. How are you settling in?”
“Great, thanks. It’s much better than being out there with that crowd.”
“Did you manage to s
ort out anything with the banks?”
“I’m not very good at lying, but yes, they’ve both agreed to see you later today.”
“Well done, Stella. You’re a star.”
Susan wanted to speak to the managers of the two banks, but she’d realised they wouldn’t see her if they knew it was about the disappearing money. That’s why she’d asked Stella to tell them she was doing profiles on Washbridge’s leading business figures.
Men? Flattery worked every time.
***
“Charlie! Come in here!” Draycott, another werewolf, was Charlie’s boss.
“What is it, Mr Draycott?”
“There’s been a complaint.”
“About me?”
“Why else would I be speaking to you about it? A member has reported that you were rude to her. She’s cancelled her membership.”
“Ali?”
“Were you rude to her?”
“No. I’m never rude to any of the members. She threw a glass of water at me.”
“You must have done something to upset her?”
“I didn’t. Honestly.”
“I haven’t had any problems with you before, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt this time. But you’re on a warning. Any more problems, and you’re gone. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’d better get back out there, then. We’re short staffed now that Mason has gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“Haven’t you heard? He was at some stupid meeting last night, organised by that Breakskull fellow. It was raided by the rogue retrievers. Mason is now back in Candlefield for good.”
Chapter 10
Susan’s first appointment was with Lance Westwood, the manager of Washbridge Central Bank. He greeted her with a huge smile, and unless she was very much mistaken, he had bought a new suit especially for the occasion.
“Come through to my office, Ms Hall.”
“Call me Susan, please.”
“Susan, it is.” He ushered her to a chair next to his desk. “Will the photographer be joining us shortly?”
“The photographer?” Whoops! Susan had asked Stella to tell the two bank managers that this was to be a profile of them, so it was only natural that they might have expected photos to be taken. “I find a photographer can get in the way of the interview. He’ll be along later today.”
“Oh? Right, I guess that makes sense. Can I offer you a drink, Susan? Tea? Coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’d prefer to get straight down to it, if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course.”
Susan spent the next thirty minutes stroking the man’s ego. It wasn’t difficult to do. Like a lot of the men Susan had known, Westwood seemed quite comfortable talking about himself and his achievements. When she could stand no more, she brought proceedings to a close.
“Thank you, Mr Westwood. That has been most helpful.”
“My pleasure. When exactly will the article run?”
“Some time next week, I should think.”
“Excellent. I’ll keep an eye open for it.”
Susan stood up. “There is just one more thing I wanted to ask you.”
“Fire away.”
“I understand the bank had a problem with cash disappearing from the vault recently? Care to comment?”
His demeanour changed instantly. The congenial smile melted, his cheeks flushed red, and his voice seemed to go up several octaves. “Disappeared? Err—I—err don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“I understood that you’d called in the police because the money in your vault had disappeared, but by the time they arrived it had reappeared.”
He made a point of checking his watch. “I’m sorry, Ms Hall, but I have another appointment in two minutes.” He walked over to the door.
“How do you explain the disappearance, Mr Westwood?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, I really must ask you to leave.”
Until she’d spoken to Westwood, Susan had still harboured doubts about Manic’s story. After all, how could money simply disappear? Westwood had clearly been rattled by her question. If the incident, whatever it was, had never occurred, wouldn’t he have simply laughed at the suggestion? She was now convinced that something had happened.
But what?
***
Charlie didn’t usually bother going out on his lunch hour, but today he had to get out of the gym. This had been his worst day since he’d started work there. First, there had been the news that Mason had been arrested by the rogue retrievers. Charlie was going to miss him—they had been good friends. The rugby team would miss him too; Mason had been one of their best players. Charlie felt sorry for Mason, but also angry with him. Attending that meeting had been a crazy idea. The rogue retrievers were bound to clamp down on that kind of activity. Werewolves taking over the human world? The idea was utter nonsense, and Mason should have known better.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Charlie was still smarting from what had happened with Ali. He’d only ever tried to be nice to her; he’d never led her on in any way. And yet, after she’d seen Amelia, Ali had transformed into some kind of she-devil, who was hell-bent on destroying him. Women? He’d never understand them.
“Excuse me?”
The female voice brought Charlie back down to earth.
“Sorry to bother you. I’m Tara Brown.”
“Hi?” Charlie was trying to work out if he knew this pretty young human. There were so many members at the gym that he didn’t always remember everyone’s face.
“Do you mind if I join you?” She pointed to the seat opposite his.
“Help yourself.”
The coffee shop was quiet with lots of vacant tables, so why had she asked to join him?
“I was just wondering,” she said, “if I could get the name of your agent?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I think you must have me mixed up with someone else.”
“Sorry. I just assumed—my bad. Look, I’m a photographer for Body Magazine. You might have heard of it?”
“I don’t read many magazines. Just Rugby Monthly.”
“Have you ever thought about modelling?”
“Me?” He laughed; he was beginning to think this was some kind of joke. It had Neil’s fingerprints all over it. Charlie glanced out of the window. Was Neil watching from somewhere close by? There was no sign of him. “Is this a wind-up? Has Neil put you up to this?”
“I don’t know anyone called Neil. And no, it’s not a wind-up; I’m deadly serious.”
“Have you seen this?” He framed his face with his giant hands. “This is not the face of a model.”
“Why not? You have a terrific body, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
Charlie blushed. “I work in a gym.”
“It shows. And your face has character.”
“Is that code for ugly?”
“It’s not code for anything. There’s a never-ending supply of pretty boys, but finding a male model with an interesting face—that’s much more of a challenge. Is it something you might consider?”
“Modelling? I don’t think so. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“You could make good money. Very good money.”
That got his attention. The money he earned at the gym wasn’t great. “Do you really think I could do it?”
“Why not? Look, I know a few agents. If you like I could get one to contact you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What do you have to lose?”
“Okay then. Why not?”
Charlie gave her his contact details, and then she went on her way.
If it turned out that Neil was behind this, and it was all just a wind-up, Charlie would do Neil some serious damage.
***
Susan would not have believed it was possible for anyone to be more boring than Lance Westwood, but she would have lost that bet. Raymond Todd, manager of Washbridg
e Mutual Bank, didn’t even wait to be prompted. He set off on a monologue, which took in everything from his time at university up until the present day. He did not omit even the smallest detail, and was clearly very proud of his ‘achievements’. He couldn’t wait to share them with the readers of The Bugle.
By the time he had finished, Susan was practically comatose.
“Thank you for that, Mr Todd.” She somehow managed to stifle a yawn.
“You didn’t seem to be taking notes.”
“Don’t worry. It’s all in here.” She tapped her forehead.
“And, the photographer will be around later, you say?”
“That’s right. Now, before I go, there’s just one more thing I’d like to ask you about.”
“Anything.”
“I heard that the cash in your vault disappeared recently? Can you tell me about that?”
The speed at which smarmy, all-smiles Raymond Todd transformed into red-faced, angry Raymond Todd, was incredible.
“This was all a setup, wasn’t it?” He looked as though he wanted to tear Susan, limb from limb.
“It is true then, is it? The money did disappear?”
“No comment.” He stood up. “I’d like you to leave now, please.”
She continued to press him for a comment, but he called security, who quickly escorted her out of the building.
He may not have answered her question, but Raymond Todd had left her in no doubt that there was substance to the story. But she was going to need much more than she currently had. If she went to Flynn with some half-baked story about money disappearing, and then reappearing, he would think she had lost her mind.
***
Neil had finished work early again, much to Debs’ annoyance. He’d told her that he had to go to see the accountant, but she’d known he was lying. Neil was keen to get back so that he could catch up with Socky, who would hopefully have pulled his ghostly finger out, and come up with the treasure map.
“Socky! Err—I mean, Tobias! Tobias, are you there?”
“Of course I’m here.” The ghost appeared next to Neil’s bed. “Where else would I be?”