“More or less, yes.”

  “Do you attend all the society’s meetings?”

  “Yes, although I’ve never particularly enjoyed those held at Lori’s.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I find the way she displays her art to be rather tasteless. Have you seen her apartment?”

  “Yes, I’ve visited it.”

  “Then you’ll know what I mean.”

  “Do I sense a certain amount of animosity towards her?”

  “Not towards her personally. I just don’t think she fits into the society. She doesn’t have the eye for art that the rest of us have.”

  “What did you think of the painting that was stolen?”

  “An excellent piece, but it was totally wasted on Lori.”

  “Did you see how the bees got into the room?”

  “I assume they came through the patio door. Where else would they have come from?”

  “And on your way out of the apartment, did you happen to notice if the painting in question was still on the wall?”

  “I really couldn’t say. I suppose so, but everyone was in such a panic to get away from the bees that I didn’t really notice.”

  “Did you see anyone hanging around the building, either when you arrived or after you’d evacuated?”

  “No, the only people I saw were the other members of the society. I have to say, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. It’s quite obvious that it was a burglary, and as far as I’m aware, Lori is insured, so she’ll be fully reimbursed for the painting. I can’t imagine why she felt the need to involve you.”

  Chapter 19

  The next morning, Jack brought me a cup of tea in bed.

  “What are you after?” I yawned.

  “Why so cynical? I’m not after anything. When I woke up, you looked so peaceful that I didn’t like to disturb you, so I thought I’d treat you to a nice cup of tea in bed.”

  “Thank you.” I eyed him suspiciously.

  “I slept like a log last night,” he said.

  “Me too.” I took a sip of tea. “I still feel bad about the ruby fairies, but it was nice to sleep in a bed again.”

  “Even better, we have the house to ourselves at long last.”

  “Yes, thank goodness. I was so relieved when I managed to get the premium package upgrade yesterday. I was convinced that something else would go wrong.”

  “Not as pleased as Ike. He couldn’t wait to get home to his wife.”

  “He said he’s going to give us some cash to refund the cost of the premium upgrade. I told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. And, like he said, we have provided him with bed and board for the last few days.”

  “That’s true. And now that we’ve lost the ruby fairy cash, we’re going to need every penny we can get our hands on. By the way, what are those three small wooden cages in the spare bedroom?”

  “I brought those home yesterday. They’re humane traps to catch those nymphs that live in the woods behind Mrs V’s house.”

  “Didn’t you try to catch those guys once before?”

  “Yeah, but the trap I used then wasn’t fit for purpose. These were designed specifically to catch wood nymphs.”

  “Why do you need three of them?”

  “Because, according to the guy in the shop, I’d never catch all three of them with a single trap, but if I bait each one with marshmallows, they’ll each make for a separate trap.”

  “And Bob’s your uncle.”

  “Why do people say that?”

  “Say what?”

  “Bob’s your uncle. I don’t have an Uncle Bob, and I suspect not many people do.”

  “I don’t know, Jill.” Jack sighed. “It’s just a saying.”

  “A stupid one if you ask me.”

  “No one did. Don’t you need marshmallows for the traps?”

  “Yes, I’ll call at the corner shop for some before I go to work.”

  “Didn’t you say that wood nymphs only eat the pink ones?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In that case, can I have the white ones?”

  “Sure, if you give me half the money.”

  “I brought you tea in bed. Doesn’t that count as payment in lieu?”

  “No chance, buddy. Cash only.”

  “Do you have anything else interesting on today? Apart from trapping the wood nymphs, that is?”

  “I’m not sure I’d call it interesting, but I am playing chauffeur to Winky tonight.”

  “Oh yeah.” He laughed. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “I’m not even sure why I’m taking him. He certainly doesn’t deserve it. Not after that prank with the city council letter. I don’t know what time I’ll be home tonight.”

  “No problem. I’ll probably get myself some fish and chips.”

  ***

  After Jack had left for work, I took a walk to the corner shop. I was just about to cross the road when something flashed by me. It took me a moment to realise that it was Janice on her pogo stick. She was going at quite a lick, stopping just long enough to glance both ways before crossing the road.

  When I got inside the shop, she was pogoing up and down the fruit and veg aisle. I walked over to where the basket-machine was usually located, but there was no sign of it. Instead, the baskets were simply piled up on the floor.

  After grabbing the other bits and pieces I needed, I made for the confectionary aisle, but there was no sign of any marshmallows.

  Behind the counter, Little Jack still looked like he was in a wind-tunnel.

  “Jack, what happened to your machine with the baskets?”

  “I had to give up on it. One minute, it wouldn’t give people their money back, and the next it was spraying cash onto the floor like a fruit machine. It was more trouble than it was worth.”

  “I was looking for marshmallows, but I can’t see any on the shelves. Do you have any in the back?”

  “I’m sorry, Jill, but I can’t get hold of them for love nor money. There’s a national shortage.”

  “Are you being serious?”

  “Absolutely. It’s been in all of the trade papers.”

  “But I really need some. It’s urgent.”

  “We have plenty of other sweets you could try. How about some bonbons?”

  “Bonbons are no good. I need them for—err—never mind.”

  Just then, Janice came pogoing up to the counter and stopped next to me.

  “Hi there,” I said.

  “Hello. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

  “Actually, I thought it was rather cold.”

  “I suppose it is, but I don’t really feel it when I’m on the pogo stick. It gets the blood rushing through the veins.”

  “Do you go everywhere on that?”

  “Most places, yes. If I’m going into town, I’ll sometimes take the bus, but whenever I can, I prefer the pogo stick. It’s much healthier and it’s cheaper too. Have you tried it?”

  “Not since I was a kid.”

  “Would you like a go now?”

  “Err, no thanks. Maybe another time.”

  ***

  Mrs V looked happier than she had for several days.

  “Good morning, Mrs V. It’s nice to see you looking so bright.”

  “Morning, Jill. I’m just pleased to have put that awful headhunting business behind me. And, I have the house to myself tonight.”

  “How come?”

  “Armi is going to a cuckoo clock conference in Birmingham and he’s staying overnight. He asked me to go with him, but to be honest, I’m looking forward to some me-time. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to bits, but sometimes you just need time to yourself, don’t you?”

  “I know what you mean. Men can be such hard work.”

  Winky barely noticed me walk into the office because he was much too busy trying on one outfit after another.

  “I can’t decide which one to wear.” He was currently sporting a black pinstripe suit. “What do you think of this one?”

  “I think you’re wasting your time trying those on.”

  “What are you talking about? I have a great chance of winning tonight.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to take you.”

  “Why not? You promised you would, and it’s too late to make alternative arrangements now. Is it because of that city council letter?”

  “No, it’s got nothing to do with that.”

  “It is, isn’t it? I thought you had more of a sense of humour, Jill. It was only a joke.”

  “I just told you. It has nothing to do with the letter. I have to try to locate some pink marshmallows.”

  “And you call yourself a private investigator? Duh, let me think. Where might you find marshmallows? How about a sweet shop?”

  “I’m not stupid. I know where to buy them, but there’s a national shortage, apparently. I’ll probably have to spend all day trying to track some down, so I won’t have time to chauffeur you around.”

  “How about if I find them for you?”

  “Do you think you can?”

  “Of course I can.”

  “They have to be pink ones.”

  “No problem. If I find them, do you promise you’ll take me to the competition tonight?”

  “Yeah, I promise.”

  “Okay, I’m on it.” He took off the suit and then disappeared through the window.

  Although I say it myself, blackmailing Winky had been a flash of genius on my part. If anybody could find the marshmallows, it would be him.

  A few minutes later, Mrs V popped into my office.

  “Sorry, Jill, I meant to give you these earlier.” She handed me a box of chocolates.

  “Where are these from?”

  “Jimmy and Kimmy brought them over. They said it was by way of a thank you for putting up with the graduation day, and also as an apology because you got soaked to the skin.”

  “That was very nice of them.” I opened the box. “Would you like one, Mrs V?”

  “I am rather partial to Turkish delight.”

  “Help yourself. Take both of them.”

  I popped a chocolate caramel into my mouth, and then put the box in the bottom drawer of my desk, so Winky couldn’t get his paws on them.

  ***

  I’d managed to track down Mickey Babcock who had been the owner of the drive-thru restaurant at the time that Alison Reed was murdered. The resultant publicity had had such an adverse effect on the business, that shortly afterwards, he’d been forced to close down.

  Susan Brown had mentioned that the last time she’d seen him, he looked as though he’d fallen on hard times. Judging by the block of flats in which he now lived, she was probably right. The building, which was just outside Washbridge city centre, was run-down and in serious need of repair.

  One of the lifts was out of order but, fortunately, the other one was still operational. At least, I thought it was fortuitous until I stepped inside; the smell was enough to knock you out. By the time I reached the seventh floor, I was pleased to get out of there and take a breath of fresh air.

  I knew that Babcock was in his late thirties, but the man who answered the door looked at least ten years older. He clearly hadn’t shaved for several days, and his hair hadn’t seen a comb in even longer. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he’d slept in the clothes he was wearing.

  “Mr Babcock?”

  “Call me Mickey. Come inside. I apologise for the mess. I haven’t been able to tidy up for a few days.”

  If the hallway was anything to go by, he probably hadn’t tidied up for the best part of a month. He led the way into the kitchen, which looked like it was stuck in the seventies.

  “Would you like a cup of tea or coffee, Jill?”

  I glanced over at the dirty mugs on the side of the sink. “No thanks. I’ve just had one. I’d prefer to get straight down to business, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Susan Brown told me that the murder had serious repercussions for your business.”

  “It feels wrong to complain about my business when a young woman lost her life, but yes, it basically destroyed it. Margins were always very tight, but I was just about scraping through. The TV and newspaper coverage of the murder had a terrible impact on the business.”

  “And you had to sell?”

  “I wish. The bank foreclosed on me. I didn’t get a penny. I’m still paying off the other debts, which is why I live in this dump.”

  “Couldn’t you have declared bankruptcy?”

  “I could, but I couldn’t bring myself to stiff all my suppliers. I’m determined to pay them off no matter how long it takes. I’m working two jobs at the moment, and most of the money I earn goes towards paying off my debts. It’s going to take years.”

  “That’s very admirable. Not everyone would do that. Can I ask what you thought of Arnold Kramer?”

  “He was a good lad. A hard worker who was very conscientious. Not all of them were; most of them just did the bare minimum.”

  “What kind of person was he?”

  “Very shy. Very quiet. Not very outgoing at all.”

  “Would you have thought him capable of murder?”

  “No, not in a month of Sundays. He was a fragile lad who wouldn’t say boo to a goose.”

  “I assume the police interviewed you after the incident?”

  “Yes, but there wasn’t much I could tell them because I wasn’t there on the day it happened. It was my day off.”

  “Were traces of the poison ever found in the restaurant?”

  “No, none. That was the most frustrating part for me. I made a point of telling the newspapers and the TV that no poison had been found. I thought if they reported that, it might put the customers’ minds at ease, but none of the articles even mentioned it.”

  “I understand that someone did buy the restaurant eventually?”

  “Yes. Jason Bond. That lowlife must have picked it up for a pittance.”

  “You know the man, then?”

  “Oh yes, I know him. He and I were rivals before everything went pear-shaped. He has another restaurant a few miles down the road, and he was my main competition at the time. He’s a real nasty piece of work.”

  “In what way?”

  “He tried a few dirty tricks on me.”

  “Such as?”

  “He had his people standing outside our restaurant, handing out flyers for his place. That sort of thing is simply not done. Then there was the time when we had a visit from the health inspector. Apparently, there had been an anonymous report that someone had seen a rat in our dining area. I’m convinced that Jason was behind that too.”

  “He sounds like a nice guy. Susan Brown isn’t very impressed with him either.”

  “I’m not surprised. I’ve heard he treats his staff like dirt.”

  I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Babcock. Through no fault of his own, he’d lost everything. I felt a certain amount of admiration too. Not many people would have been prepared to endure the hardship he was suffering in order to repay his debts. Kudos to the man.

  Chapter 20

  I hadn’t made much progress in locating Lori Harty’s missing painting. Although I’d spoken to all the members of WFAAS, it occurred to me that I still didn’t know anything about the painting itself.

  A quick search online turned up an article in The Bugle that related to Lori’s purchase of the painting. Although the sum involved wasn’t particularly high by national or international standards, it had been significant enough for my favourite newspaper to deem it worthy of coverage. My main takeaway from the article was that Lori had purchased the painting from a Mr Ethan Porter who lived in Macclesfield. I had a lot on my plate, and I couldn’t afford the time it would have taken to drive there and back, so I magicked myself to his house.

  The man who answered the door had grey, curly hair, and was sporting a large yellow and black bow tie.

  “Mr Porter?”

  “None other.”

  “I’m sorry to turn up unannounced on your doorstep like this.”

  “There’s no need to apologise. It’s not every day that a beautiful young woman turns up at my door.” He laughed. “Many years ago, maybe, but not these days. What can I do for you?”

  “My name is Jill Maxwell. I’m a private investigator based in Washbridge. I’m trying to find out what happened to a painting that belonged to my client, Lori Harty.”

  “The Old Barn.”

  “Sorry?”

  “That’s the name of the painting I sold to Lori. I heard that it had been stolen. Do come in. Would you care for a tipple?”

  “Not for me, thanks. It’s a bit early and besides I’m driving.”

  “You don’t mind if I do, do you?”

  “Not at all.”

  He poured himself a small whisky and downed it in one. “That’s better. Now, what can I tell you about the painting?”

  “Could I start by asking why you decided to sell it?”

  “It’s a nice piece, but I rarely hold onto any painting for more than a few years. The enjoyment for me is in finding new pieces that interest me. I needed to raise funds to buy that beauty over there.” He pointed to an abstract monstrosity on the wall above the fireplace. “What do you think of it?”

  “It’s—err—very nice. Some of the people I’ve spoken to seem to think that Lori paid over the odds for the painting you sold her.”

  “You may say that, but I couldn’t possibly comment.” He grinned. “To be honest, I’d resigned myself to accepting a lower price from the others when she contacted me.”

  “Others?”

  “Didn’t you know? The first approach was a combined one by all of the members of the Washbridge art society.”

  “Including Lori?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Apparently, they occasionally pitch in together to purchase a painting, which they then take turns to keep.”

  “Like some sort of timeshare?”

 

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