Did he have an ulterior motive?

  Of course he didn’t. Why did I always have to be so suspicious of everyone? He was doing it because he loved me.

  I eventually decided on a little restaurant, which we’d been to once before, called Washbridge Kitchen. Jack had insisted on ordering a taxi, so that we could both have a drink if we wanted one. We hadn’t bothered to book because restaurants around there were rarely busy midweek.

  “What’s going on?” Jack said when we walked into the restaurant.

  The place was deserted. I’d expected it to be quiet, but not this quiet.

  A waiter spotted us and came over.

  “It looks like you have plenty of free tables,” I said.

  “I’m very sorry, madam, but we won’t be serving food tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “The cold-room broke down a couple of hours ago. We’ve called the repair man, but he can’t get here until the morning. You’re welcome to have a drink at the bar, and I can book you a table for tomorrow if you like.”

  “Err, no thanks. We’ll give it a miss.”

  A little disappointed, we went instead to a small pizza restaurant in the next street. As it turned out, we struck lucky because the pizza was delicious, and we both made short work of it.

  “Do you want a pudding?” Jack asked.

  “Just a couple of scoops of ice cream, I think.”

  “Are you sure that’s all you want? They have some fantastic desserts.”

  “Ice cream will be fine.”

  After we’d finished dessert, Jack said, “I really enjoyed this evening. We should do it more often.”

  “Actually, we’re dining out two days next week. We’re going out with Luther and Rebecca on Monday, and then on Thursday, we’re seeing Swotty Dotty and her partner.”

  “I hope you’re not going to call her that on the day.” He grinned.

  “Of course I won’t. It’s just force of habit.”

  “Oh yes, there’s something I wanted to mention to you, Jill. Peter rang earlier today. He and Mikey are going go-karting on Saturday, and he asked if I’d like to go with them.”

  “Ah, now it all becomes clear.”

  “Sorry?”

  “That explains everything. Why you weren’t upset when I told you that Ike would be staying for another day. And why you suggested we go out for a meal. You were trying to butter me up, so you can go go-karting.”

  “That’s not true,” he protested. “The thought never entered my head.”

  “You’re such a bad liar, Jack. Look, I don’t mind if you want to go. Just don’t crash and put yourself in hospital.”

  “Thanks, Jill.” He gave me a kiss. “You’re the best.”

  “You’re right. I am.”

  “You could go shopping with Kathy.”

  “I doubt it. She’ll more than likely be working in the shop. Don’t worry, I’ll find something to pass the time.”

  “By the way, how’s your grandmother’s nose?”

  “Not very good, I’m afraid. The potion sorted out the colour changing problem, but it’s caused the wart to expand. It’s twice as big as it was before.”

  He laughed. “I don’t imagine she’s very pleased about that.”

  “She was fuming. When she came to see me, she was wearing a beekeeper’s hat to hide it.”

  “What can you do about it?”

  “I had to get her another potion.”

  “Poor you.”

  “You haven’t heard the worst part. She made me apply the potion to the wart.”

  “Thank goodness you didn’t tell me that before we started to eat.” He shuddered. “Do you think it’ll cure it?”

  “I certainly hope so. Otherwise I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

  Chapter 10

  Jack and I had both skipped breakfast.

  I didn’t feel like eating anything, and Jack said he didn’t want to risk his muesli being interrupted by the living dead. Before I went to work, I needed to pick up a few things from The Corner Shop.

  The pile of baskets wasn’t in its usual place, next to the door, so I walked over to the counter where Little Jack seemed to be having some difficulty. He was holding onto the wall for dear life, and his hair was blowing all over the place.

  “Are you all right back there, Jack?”

  “I think I may have the fan on the wrong setting,” he shouted.

  It was only then that I realised what the problem was. He’d installed a giant industrial fan behind the counter, and it was blowing a gale.

  “What’s with the fan, Jack?” I said.

  “It gets so hot back here behind the glass screen that I had to do something. I had hoped the fan might cool it down, but I don’t think I’ve got the settings quite right yet. Hold on there for a minute, Jill. I’ll try and adjust it.”

  He released his grip on the counter and then started to walk, on his stilts, towards the fan. It was clearly hard going, and he looked like he was battling through a wind tunnel. Eventually, though, he reached the fan, turned the knob and adjusted the speed.

  “That’s better. Was there something you needed, Jill?”

  “I can’t find the baskets; they’re not in the usual place.”

  “Unfortunately, I’ve had to introduce some security measures because when I did an inventory last week, I discovered that ten percent of the baskets had gone missing. That’s why I’ve installed that.” He pointed to a strange looking machine just the other side of the door.

  “How does it work?”

  “You put a pound coin in the slot on the side. A basket will then come out of the large drawer at the bottom. When you’ve finished your shopping, simply put the basket back into the drawer, and the pound coin will be refunded.”

  “Okay, I’ll give it a shot.” I took a pound coin from my purse, dropped it in the slot, and sure enough, a basket appeared.

  It only took me a few minutes to get everything I needed.

  “No custard creams today, Jill?” Jack said, as he took my money.

  “No, I still have plenty left, thanks.”

  “Are you cutting down on them? You’re not on a diet, are you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Okay, if you pop your basket back in the drawer, your pound coin will be refunded.”

  I went over to the machine and did as he said. My pound coin dropped into the tray. Then another one dropped into it. And another. They kept on coming until the tray was full of them, and then they started spilling out onto the floor.

  “Jack! I think you may have a problem with this machine.”

  ***

  I’d dropped my shopping back at the house, and was just about to leave when Ike called to me from upstairs.

  “Have you got the registration number of your spell book, Jill?”

  Oh bum! I’d forgotten all about that.

  “Yes, I’ve got it. Don’t worry.” I hurried into the lounge, jotted down the number, and then set off for work.

  As I approached the office building, I stopped dead in my tracks because I’d seen something that I never thought I’d ever see. There, on the wall, was a sign. And not just any old sign. My sign! It had the correct wording; it looked to be the correct size, and it wasn’t upside down. Result!

  I skipped all the way to the office and up the stairs.

  “Jill, you’re looking very pleased with life.” It was Jimmy who was standing with Kimmy.

  “Hello, you two. I most certainly am. Did you see they’ve put up my sign at long last? I can’t believe it. I’ve been waiting weeks for that.”

  “We noticed it on our way in. It looks really good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “We were going to come and see you later today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Our first intake of clowns has just finished their course, and they’ll be graduating next week.”

  “Do clown’s graduate?”

  “Of course they do. Just like any other students.”

  “O—kay.”

  “Anyway, we wanted to warn you that the graduation ceremony is next Tuesday, here at our offices, and there’ll probably be a lot more clowns around on that day. I hope that’ll be okay?”

  “Of course it will. I don’t have any problem with that kind of thing. It was just the permanent sign at the top of the stairs that I objected to. I hope the day goes well for you.”

  “Thanks, Jill.”

  Jimmy and Kimmy went on their way, and I headed into the office.

  “Have you seen it, Mrs V? The sign?”

  “Yes, Jill.” She beamed. “I most certainly have.”

  “Doesn’t it look great? When did they put it up?”

  “They’d almost finished by the time I arrived. They must have started at the crack of dawn.”

  “I can’t believe it’s finally up. Maybe business will start to pick up now that people actually know we’re here.”

  “Let’s hope so, dear.”

  ***

  I’d telephoned the four other members of WFAAS, and they’d all agreed to talk to me.

  First up, was a lady by the name of Hannah Westbrook, who lived in an apartment in the city centre.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs Westbrook.”

  “My pleasure. Do come in. I was just about to make a pot of green tea. Would you care for some?”

  “Would it be possible to have a glass of water instead?”

  “I don’t have any in, I’m afraid.”

  “I meant from the tap.”

  “I suppose so. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Moments later, she returned from the kitchen. She was holding my glass of water at arm’s length, as though it was some kind of toxic substance.

  “As I mentioned on the phone, Mrs Westbrook, I’ve been hired by Lori Harty to investigate the theft of her painting. Are you familiar with the item in question?”

  “I am indeed. It’s a nice enough piece of work, but not worth the amount of money she paid for it.”

  “Do you remember seeing it during the last meeting of WFAAS?”

  “I’m not sure. Lori does have an awful lot of art on her walls. Too much, in fact. For me, less is more. As you can see, I have just the three paintings in this room, and I think that works rather nicely. Lori must have at least ten in her dining room, which I find a little overwhelming.”

  “Perhaps you could talk me through the events of that day?”

  “There’s not much to tell. We all arrived at the usual time, talked about this and that for a few minutes, then Lori went through to the kitchen to make drinks. That’s when the bees appeared.”

  “Do you know where they came from?”

  “Through the patio door, I assume. By the time Lori returned with the drinks, one of the horrible creatures had stung me.” She pointed to her arm. “Then, we all hurried out of the apartment and down the stairs.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Not much. There was no point in hanging around, so the four of us left. I believe Lori was going to wait in the garden for the pest control man to arrive.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have taken the painting, Mrs Westbrook?”

  “None at all. Although, I did hear that there had been a number of burglaries in that area recently.”

  ***

  Myrtle Turtle had been in touch to say that Walter Staniforth, the detective who’d been in charge of the Kramer case, had agreed to talk to me.

  I’d arranged to meet Myrtle at her house, the old watermill. Middle Tweaking was a sleepy little village, and every time I paid it a visit, I pondered the possibility of Jack and me living there. Jack would love it, but I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for village life; I might end up climbing the walls after a few months.

  It was Hodd who answered the door.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the private investigator. How are you, Jill?”

  “Very well, thanks. Is Myrtle in?”

  “Yes, come in. She’s upstairs doing something with her drawers, I believe.”

  “She is expecting me.”

  “Yeah, she said you’d be popping over. I’ll nip upstairs and tell her you’re here.”

  No sooner had Hodd disappeared than Jobbs came out of the kitchen. “Hi, Jill. I was just about to make a drink. Would you like one?”

  “That would be lovely, thanks.”

  “We have coffee, Earl Grey, and a selection of those poncy fruit teas, which Myrtle insists on buying.”

  “Earl Grey would be lovely, thanks.”

  Moments later, Hodd came back downstairs, followed closely by Myrtle.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Jill,” Myrtle said. “I’ve been sorting out the cupboards in the bedroom. I don’t know how I managed to accumulate so much rubbish. Would you like a drink?”

  “Jobbs is making one for me, thanks.”

  “In that case, let’s take the weight off our feet, and you can tell me all about the cases you’ve been working on recently. We’ll go and talk to Walter after we’ve had our drinks.”

  Over tea, I talked the three of them through some of my recent cases.

  “You certainly land your fair share of interesting cases,” Hodd said.

  “What about you three? Have you been up to anything interesting recently? Any part-time sleuthing?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Myrtle sighed. “Things have been even quieter than usual here in Middle Tweaking. It’s a pity because I do like to keep my hand in with a little detective work on the side, but there’s precious little opportunity here.”

  After we’d finished our drinks, Myrtle sent Hodd and Jobbs on their way, and she accompanied me to Walter Staniforth’s. He lived in a small cottage on the northern edge of the village.

  “I should warn you, Jill, even though Walter has agreed to talk to you, I got the impression that he wasn’t a big fan of private investigators.”

  “That’s okay. I’m used to policemen not having much time for me. My husband, Jack, felt exactly the same when we first met.”

  “You clearly managed to win him over.” She laughed. “I get the feeling that Walter is finding retirement a little boring. That’s probably why he agreed to talk to you.”

  Myrtle hammered on the door with the brass knocker. Moments later, a tall well-built man with a thick grey moustache, answered the door.

  “Hello, Myrtle. And you must be Jill. Myrtle’s told me a lot about you.”

  “Not all bad, I hope.”

  “No. In fact, she was singing your praises, and she doesn’t do that about many people. Why don’t you both come in?”

  “I won’t if you don’t mind, Walter,” Myrtle said. “I’m in the middle of tidying the bedroom, and besides, it’ll be better if you and Jill discuss the case alone. If I’m there, I’ll only go sticking my oar in.”

  “As you wish,” Walter said.

  “Thanks again, Myrtle.” I gave her a little wave as she started back down the road.

  There was something about the sitting room that made me suspect he lived alone. The top of the sideboard was covered in framed photographs: no partner or children in sight. Most of them were of Walter, taken while he was in the force.

  “How long were you with the police, Walter?”

  “All of my working life. I joined straight from college. Started on the beat and worked my way up, and I’ve never regretted a minute of it. Do have a seat, Jill. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thanks. I had a cup of tea at Myrtle’s.”

  “She tells me you’re married to a policeman.”

  “That’s right. Jack’s a detective in West Chipping. He worked in Washbridge before that.”

  “Being married to a policeman can’t be easy.”

  “He’d probably say the same thing about being married to me. Myrtle tells me that you’re finding retirement a little boring.”

  “She’s right. I am. Weird, isn’t it? You spend the last few years counting the days until you can retire, and then once you have, you wonder why you bothered. That’s partly why I agreed to talk to you today. Myrtle mentioned that you’re working on one of my old cases.”

  “Do you remember the Kramer case?”

  “Of course I do. I remember all the major cases I worked on. My overriding memory of Arnold Kramer is how quiet he was. Like a mouse.”

  “I haven’t had the chance to meet him yet, but that’s certainly the impression I get.”

  “I understand you’ve been hired by his parents to try to prove his innocence.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You’re going to find that very difficult. The evidence against him was overwhelming: Prior to the murder, Alison’s best friend, Karen Little, had seen Kramer threaten Alison. Then, of course, there was the CCTV footage of him at The Burger Barn, handing over the food that would kill Alison. Most damning of all, were the traces of the same poison that were found at Kramer’s house.”

  “How was the poison found? In a routine police search?”

  “No. Kramer’s housemate’s cat died a couple of days after Alison’s murder, and it turned out that it had eaten poison. He was the one who reported it to us.”

  “Were there any other suspects in the case, Walter?”

  “None to speak of. As I said before, all the evidence pointed to Kramer.”

  I stayed with Walter for over an hour. During that time, he talked me through all aspects of the case, and the trial in which Kramer was found guilty by a unanimous verdict. Based on what he’d told me, it was imperative that I speak to Karen Little, Alison’s best friend, who had apparently seen Arnold threaten her.

  Chapter 11

  After I’d finished talking to Walter Staniforth, I met Myrtle at the pub, which was now called The Middle. Myrtle recommended the ploughman’s lunch, so we both ordered that.

  “What did you make of Walter?” Myrtle said, as she took a sip of wine.

 

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