by Adele Abbott
Dorothy glanced at Charlie who just shrugged.
“And who’s this young man?” Her mother turned to Donny. “With such a handsome parrot?”
***
Susan bumped into Neil on their way into the apartment block.
“Did you have any joy with your magician friend?”
“Kind of.”
“How do you mean? Is he able to perform the type of illusion you mentioned or not?”
“Oh, yeah. He can definitely do it.”
“Great!”
“But he’ll only do it if I’m with you in the bank vault.”
“Why does he need you to be there?”
“I don’t know, but that’s the only way he’ll agree to it.”
“Are you absolutely sure he can do this, Neil? If we go to the bank, and this thing doesn’t work, we’re going to look pretty stupid, and I can kiss goodbye to this story.”
“I’m sure it will work. One-hundred per cent.”
“Okay, I’m going to have to trust you. I’ll make the arrangements with the bank, and let you know when it has to happen.”
Neil opened the door to their apartment, and gestured for Susan to go in first.
“The canary’s back!” Susan exclaimed when she spotted the bird. “Oh? And there’s another one? He’s big!”
“That’s a parrot,” Charlie said. “And this is Donny.”
The young man wearing the dickie bow smiled at Susan.
“Pleased to meet you, Donny. Is that your parrot?”
“It certainly looks that way.”
Chapter 22
The last few nights had been great for Neil. There had been neither sight nor sound of Socky, who he assumed must be shacked up with Lady Arabella Markham. Since Socky had moved out, Neil’s sleep had been undisturbed, and the room had been pleasantly warm.
But not tonight.
At just after two in the morning, something stirred him from his sleep. Even before he had opened his eyes, he was conscious that the room was freezing cold again—Socky must have returned.
When Neil finally managed to force his eyes open, he almost leapt out of his skin. Hovering above him, was the ghostly figure of an old woman who brought a whole new meaning to the word ugly. She looked to be in her seventies—at least. The matted hair and decaying teeth were not a pretty sight.
“Who are you?” Neil leaped out of bed, and stood with his back against the wall, ready to make a dash for the door.
“Maggie Reardon be my name.” She stretched a long sock tight between her hands. “And who are you, handsome?”
“Neil. What are you doing here? What do you want?”
“Is that any way to greet a lady?”
“Where did you come from? Are you a friend of Socky—I—err—mean Tobias?”
“Fotheringham?” She spat the name. “That man is no friend of Maggie Reardon. He’s the reason I’ve been forced to inhabit the basement for all these years. But, now he’s gone—”
“He hasn’t gone! Tobias is just—err—visiting a friend.”
“A lady friend, I’ll be bound. That man always did have an eye for the ladies.”
“You know him, then?”
“Of course I know him.” She scowled. “He’s the one who banished me to the basement. He said my sort wasn’t wanted around these parts.”
“Well, like I said, Tobias hasn’t left. He’s just away for a few days.”
“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we? If he doesn’t come back, it would be a shame to let a fine room such as this go to waste. Especially when there’s a handsome young man like you around.”
With that, she disappeared. Neil shuddered. He’d thought Socky was bad, but he’d take that old looney over Mad Maggie, any day of the week.
***
Charlie had showered and dressed, and was just about to leave his bedroom when a little voice called him back.
Bunty was standing by herself, outside her house.
“Morning, Bunty.”
“Shush!” She put a finger to her lips. “Greta is still asleep.”
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“You haven’t forgotten it’s Greta’s birthday, the day after tomorrow, have you?”
“Oh? Err—yes, I had.”
“I guess that means you haven’t got her a card or a present?”
“No, I haven’t. I’m not sure how I’m going to do it now.” He remembered the difficulty he’d had buying presents and cards for the fairies before. He’d had to get one of his friends back in Candlefield to do it for him.
“Don’t worry about it, Charlie. I can sort out a card and present for you to give to her, if you like. There’s a handbag that Greta has had her eye on for some time now.”
“That would be great, thanks. Let me know how much I owe you.”
“Of course.” Bunty turned to leave, but then hesitated. “What about a party?”
“I don’t think Greta would want a party.”
“You’d be wrong, then. Only last week, she told me she hoped she’d be able to have one.”
“Really? Oh dear.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can organise that too, if you like?”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“It would only be a small affair, obviously. Just a few of Greta’s closest friends.”
“Okay, then. If you’re sure she’ll like it.”
“Positive. Leave everything to me, Charlie.”
***
“What did you do with my granola bars, Susan?” Dorothy was staring at the open cupboard.
“They were out of date so I threw them away.”
“They were only a few days past their sell-by date.”
“They were actually two months out of date.”
“Are you sure?” Dorothy looked doubtful.
“Positive. I’m making toast. I can make some for you, if you like?”
“Do we have brown bread?”
“Only white.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll pick up something on the way into work.”
“From Donny’s shop?” Susan grinned.
“Probably. So what?”
“Nothing. He must be awfully keen on you, to buy you a canary. Do you fancy him?”
“It was a parrot. And, no I don’t fancy him.”
Neil came out of his bedroom. “What time will you want me today, Susan?”
“I’m not sure yet. I have to contact the bank manager. Can I call you later to confirm?”
“Sure. I’m the manager, so I can nip out any time I like.” He turned to Dorothy. “You should have told me that you have a thing for dickie bows. I‘d have bought one.”
“Shut up, Neil! You’re not funny.” Dorothy picked up her bag and coat, and started for the door. “I’m off.”
“Don’t you want a lift?” Neil called after her.
“No. I’ll walk.”
“Say hello to Donny for me!”
***
Nothing could have prepared Susan for the harrowing stories she’d heard from the victims of Burke Holdings. Dawn Chalmers had given her a list of seven other people who had suffered intimidation before they had finally relented and sold up. Two of them hadn’t returned her call, and another two had refused point blank to speak to her. She had spent the first part of the morning speaking to Mr and Mrs Jameson, a middle-aged couple who had lived across the road from Dawn Chalmers. After that, she had spent an hour with Mrs Levers, a widow who had been forced out of the house she’d lived in for almost thirty years. Her final stop was at the home of Mr and Mrs Shaw.
“Hi, I’m Susan Hall.”
“Do come in.” Mr Shaw showed her through to the lounge where his wife was already seated on the sofa. Her leg was in a cast.
“Sorry I couldn’t meet you at the door.” Mrs Shaw gestured to her leg. “Sports injury.”
“She tripped on the bowling green.” Her husband grinned.
“Go and make us all a nice cup of tea, would you, Malcolm?”
<
br /> Mr Shaw asked how Susan took her tea, and then disappeared into the kitchen. Mrs Shaw asked Susan to take the seat opposite her.
“I hope you get these people,” she said. “They’re evil.”
“I hope so too.”
“They almost destroyed Malcolm. He felt bad because he wasn’t able to stop them, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do.”
“What about the police?”
“Most people were too afraid to talk to them. Those of us that did, couldn’t provide enough evidence. It was just our word against theirs.”
“What about the video that Dawn showed to me?”
“The police said there was no proof that the man in the video had anything to do with Burke Holdings. And then, when The Bugle turned us away, there was nothing left for us to try.”
“There you go.” Mr Shaw passed around the drinks, and then joined his wife on the sofa.
“Tell her what they did to you, Malcolm.”
He hesitated, then took a deep breath, and said, “We’d told them we wouldn’t move for any price. We loved that house. But then, on my way into work one day—I work at the main post office in town—they ambushed me in the car park. It was the crack of dawn, and there was no one else around. There were three of them—all wearing ski masks. They said if we didn’t sell the house that Abby wouldn’t see her next birthday.”
“Abby?”
“Our cocker spaniel. We don’t have children. Abby is our little girl.”
“Where is she now?”
“In the back garden.” Mr Shaw smiled. “I put her outside because I knew you were coming. She can get a little boisterous around guests.”
Thirty-five minutes later, Susan left the Shaw’s house, even more determined that she must do something to stop Burke Holdings, but it wasn’t going to be easy. If she was going to convince Flynn to run with this story, she needed much more than she had so far.
She called Stella.
“Susan? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to put together a story on Burke Holdings, but so far I don’t have much. Do you think any of your neighbours will speak to me?”
“Some might, but most don’t want to get involved.”
“Would you send me the names and phone numbers of those you think might talk to me?”
“Of course. I’ll do it straight away.”
***
“Hello, darling.”
Dorothy took an instant dislike to the vampire who had just walked through the door of the bookshop. She knew his sort. A wide-boy who was no doubt trying to sell her something.
“Not interested.” She gave him a sour look.
“I’m not selling anything, darling. I’m here to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Still not interested.”
“Hear me out.” He glanced around to see if there was anyone else in the shop. There wasn’t. Molly had finished early to go to the dentist—at least that’s what she’d told Dorothy. There hadn’t been a customer in the shop for over half an hour.
“I’ll be closing up in a minute.”
“A minute is all I need. Let me guess. They don’t pay you very well, do they? They never do. How would you like an opportunity to earn a little extra cash?”
“Doing what?”
He slid his hand inside his coat, and produced a small bottle.
“Blood?”
“Only the best. Human, naturally.”
“Why are you showing me that?”
“Human blood can be difficult to come by, but I don’t need to tell you that. We’re putting together a network of small shops.” He glanced around again. “Such as this one. Soon you’ll never be more than five minutes from your next top-up.”
“You want me to sell blood? From in here? Don’t you think people might notice it among the books?”
“We provide you with a small fridge that, from the outside, has been designed to look like a safe. I’m sure there’s a little corner somewhere that you could hide it from view. Then we keep you stocked up—first thing each morning. You don’t even have to take any cash. Our customers purchase tokens online, which they hand to you. You get twenty per cent of the value of all the bottles you move. It’s money for nothing. Plus, you get one extra bottle each day in case of breakages. If there aren’t any, you can sell it or drink it yourself. On us.”
“What about the rogue retrievers?”
“What about them? They’re too slow to catch a cold. And besides, they’ll never come looking in shops like this one. What do you say?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Okay, but don’t take too long. We only need one shop on this street. If someone else says ‘yes’ first, you’ll have missed out.” He made to leave.
“Wait! Okay. I’ll do it.”
“Great! Just think what you’ll be able to do with that extra money.”
Dorothy wasn’t thinking about the money, although that would come in handy. She was thinking that she might get to taste human blood at long last.
***
Charlie grabbed a bite to eat after work, and then made his way to the address that Charlotte had texted to him. All he knew about the job was that it was for a TV show, and that they needed a lot of extras. More importantly, though, he knew that Jade would be there too. That had been the deciding factor in his accepting the job.
The address turned out to be a run-down old house on the edge of the city. It wasn’t an area that Charlie had ever visited—he would have remembered this house. It stood out like a sore thumb from all the neighbouring buildings. It looked like some kind of haunted house which, as it turned out, was precisely why they had chosen to shoot the scene there. The young, energetic assistant who greeted him at the gate, informed Charlie that they were shooting some kind of paranormal horror movie. A large marquee had been erected in the huge garden at the rear. It was already full of extras who were waiting for makeup or their costumes.
“Hi, Charlie!”
He recognised the voice, but not the face. “Jade?”
“How do I look?” she said.
“Err? Like a zombie.”
“I wanted to be a vampire.” She giggled. “But they said they already had enough of those, so I ended up looking like this. What are you going to be?”
“I don’t know. No one has told me yet.”
“Charlie?” A petite brunette with wire rimmed glasses came rushing over. “Are you Charlie?”
“That’s me.”
“Thank goodness. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“Sorry. I was told to be here at seven.”
“Typical. It should have been six. Never mind, you’re here now. We should just about have time to get you ready.”
“What am I going to be?”
“A werewolf.” She looked him up and down. “You’re going to need a lot of work though.”
Chapter 23
The next morning, Charlie was pacing up and down the landing. It was nine o’ clock, and Pretty still hadn’t turned up to be fed. She often missed a day here and there, but Charlie had a niggling doubt which refused to go away.
And that niggling doubt was called Amelia.
He had tried to tell himself that he was just being stupid. She’d over-reacted in the cinema when those two girls had been chatting to him, but she would never do anything to hurt an innocent little cat.
Would she?
“Morning, Jerry,” Charlie greeted his fellow werewolf who lived on the top floor of the building. Jerry was crazy about rugby—watching, not playing—and the two of them could spend ages talking about it.
“Morning,” Jerry said, without even making eye contact with Charlie.
“Did you see the match on TV last night?”
“No.”
And before Charlie could ask him anything else, he’d disappeared down the stairs. That really wasn’t like Jerry. Most days, it took Charlie all of his ti
me to get away from him. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well or had something on his mind. Probably just as well because Charlie was already going to have to explain why he was late for work.
“Pretty! Pretty!”
There was still no sign of her.
***
“I’m not happy about having this thing in the shop,” Molly complained.
Much to Dorothy’s surprise the blood fridge/safe had been delivered that morning, and was already stocked with fresh human blood. She assumed the supplier acted so quickly so as not to give anyone the chance to change their mind. Thankfully, it was tiny—about the same size as the fridge she’d had installed in her bedroom. It had been slotted in between the bookcase and the staff door, at the far end of the shop. Very few people ventured down to that area, and for the few who did, it wouldn’t look particularly out of place.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Dorothy said.
“Of course it does. I work here too. If the rogue retrievers find out that we’re selling human blood, they’ll send us both back to Candlefield.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
“You can’t know that.”
“They’re interested in much bigger fish. They’re not going to check out a small book shop.” She hesitated. “Unless someone tells them about it.”
“It would be a real pity if someone did that.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Not if I had a stake in it, I wouldn’t.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“Blackmail is such an ugly word.”
“I’ll give you ten per cent.”
“Fifty.”
“No chance. Twenty.”
“Thirty per cent or I might forget myself, and let it slip.”
“Okay. Thirty, but you’d better not breathe a word to anyone.”
“I won’t.” Molly grinned. “Cross my heart. Do we get free samples?”
“No, we don’t. If you want any, you’ll have to buy tokens online like everyone else.”
The salesman had told Dorothy that she would be given one extra bottle each day, in case of breakages. She had intended to let Molly have that extra bottle, but now the blackmailing little cow could whistle for it.