“He was very guarded and defensive, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

  “In my experience, policemen don’t like being second-guessed by private investigators. I think a lot of them are more insecure than they’d care to admit.”

  “When Jack and I first met, he really had it in for PIs, but that was because of a bad experience he’d had on a case before he moved to Washbridge. He and I used to fight like cat and dog at first.”

  “Things have obviously improved since then. Do you have children, Jill?”

  “Not yet. We both want them, but there’s still plenty of time. What about you, Myrtle? Do you have children? Grandchildren?”

  “I’m afraid not. Unless you count Hodd and Jobbs.” She grinned. “Just between you and me, Jill, I’m actually thinking of upping sticks and moving.”

  “Leaving Middle Tweaking?”

  “Yes. I think the time has come for me to move on.”

  “But you have such a beautiful home. I’m surprised you can bear to leave the watermill. And this village is idyllic.”

  “I love the watermill, and I’ll miss it terribly. The village too. But I’m not ready to see my time out here.”

  “You’ve still got plenty of years ahead of you, Myrtle.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I’ve always fancied living on the coast.”

  “Blackpool? Skegness?”

  “Not exactly.” She laughed. “I’m on the lookout for a little cottage in a quiet cove. Somewhere I can get up in the morning and look out of the window at the sea. Where I can take early morning walks along a deserted beach.”

  “You’ll be bored to tears, Myrtle.”

  “Probably, but it’s not as though Middle Tweaking is a hive of activity.”

  “What about Hodd and Jobbs? What was their reaction to your decision?”

  “I haven’t said anything to them yet, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either. If nothing comes of it, they need never know. If I do find somewhere, and decide to move, I’ll cross that bridge then. Anyway, enough of me. What’s your next move on the case you’re working on?”

  “The victim’s best friend gave evidence that my client had made threats against the victim, Alison Reed, after she’d split up with him, so I want to speak to her. I’ve tried to contact her a few times, but she isn’t answering her phone. Hopefully, she’ll call me back after she’s checked her voicemail. Traces of the poison, which was used to kill Alison, were found at my client’s house, so I also want to speak to Arnold’s old housemate too.”

  ***

  “Come and look at this, Jill.” Mrs V walked over to the linen basket and lifted the lid. It was full to the brim.

  “I take it your new yarn has arrived?”

  “Yes, and it cost me a pretty penny. I do hope this batch doesn’t go the way of the last lot.”

  “I’m sure it won’t. Not now that you’ve sprayed the basket.”

  In my office, Winky was fast asleep on the sofa. Being the considerate person that I am, I didn’t want to wake him, so I tiptoed across the room.

  That’s when I saw it.

  There, on my desk, was the jam jar. The lid was off, and there was no sign of that ugly bug.

  “Winky!”

  “What?” He jumped up. “Where am I? What day is it?”

  “Where’s that bug of yours?” I demanded.

  “Ivan?” He looked around. “I don’t know. In his jam jar, I suppose.”

  “No, he isn’t.” I picked up the jar. “Look! The lid’s not on.”

  “Oh?”

  “Oh? Is that all you can say? Mrs V has just invested a lot of money in a new batch of yarn. If Ivan damages it, you’ll be in big trouble.”

  “If he’s already got into the linen basket, it’s probably too late. He has a voracious appetite.”

  Oh bum!

  Panic-stricken, I rushed through to the outer office and, without a word to Mrs V, tipped the linen basket over, spilling the contents onto the floor.

  “Jill, what are you doing?” Mrs V looked horrified.

  “Sorry, but this has to be done.” I picked up each ball of wool in turn, to see if I could spot Ivan. Only when I was sure that a ball was Ivan-free, did I put it back into the basket.

  Mrs V clearly thought I’d lost my mind, but I persevered until I’d checked every ball of wool. There was no sign of Ivan, thank goodness. The yarn was safe.

  “It’s okay, Mrs V. Everything’s fine.”

  She gave me the strangest look, as I hurried back into my office where Winky was rolling around on the sofa, laughing his head off.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Your face when you saw the jam jar was empty.” He was in tears now. “It was a picture.”

  “Never mind that. Start looking for Ivan! If he finds his way back into the linen basket, you’ll be in big trouble.”

  “There’s no need. I took him back to Billy the Bugs yesterday.”

  “You did what? I’ve just spent the last twenty minutes looking for him.”

  “I know.” He laughed even louder. “Priceless.”

  ***

  I’d arranged to visit Lori Harty’s apartment so that I could see for myself the room from which the painting had been stolen. The apartment block was relatively new and stood on the grounds of what had once been the ice rink. Hence its name: Winter House. An appropriate name given the weather we were experiencing at the moment. Hopefully, Daze and Blaze would apprehend those pesky ice nymphs soon, and it would start to warm up.

  Lori’s apartment was on the sixth floor. Normally, I would have taken the lift, but I took the stairs because I wanted to get a feel for the exit route that she and her friends had taken when they’d evacuated the building to escape the bees.

  Lori had buzzed me into the building, and she was waiting in the doorway of her apartment.

  “Come in, Jill. What would you like to see first?”

  “Can you show me exactly where the painting was hanging before it disappeared?”

  “Yes, of course. Let’s go through to the dining room.”

  It was a sizeable room with a table large enough to seat eight. She stood behind the chair at the far end of the table and pointed at the wall behind me.

  “The missing painting was hanging in-between those two.”

  I had a certain amount of sympathy with Hannah Westbrook’s view that less was more. There were an awful lot of paintings in that room, some more attractive than others.

  “How big is the painting that disappeared?”

  “I’m not very good with measurements.”

  “How about you compare it to one of those still here? Is it a similar size to any of those?”

  She glanced around. “I suppose it would be closest in size to the one above the sideboard. That’s why I said there’s no way my friends or the pest control man could have taken it out of the building without me seeing it.”

  “Tell me about the bees. I assume they came in through the patio door?”

  “They must have done.” She led the way over to the doors, slid one open, and stepped out onto the balcony.

  “Do you normally leave this door open when you have a meeting?”

  “No, to be honest, that door is rarely open because I have air conditioning.”

  “Could it have been open on that particular day?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you normally lock it?”

  “Only in the evenings or when I go out. It’s just possible that I left it ajar earlier that morning when I went out to water the plants. Or one of the others could have opened it, I suppose. Do you have any theories yet on what happened?”

  “Not yet. I suppose it’s possible that someone from one of the other apartments could have crept in here after you’d all evacuated.”

  “I don’t see how. When I was at your office, I think I mentioned there are security cameras throughout the building and outside. I had the security man go through the CCTV footage for the period while we were outside, and there was no sign of anyone entering my apartment.”

  “Right. You said that you went out of the room to make drinks. How long were you gone?”

  “Not very long at all. Just long enough to boil a kettle and pour out the drinks. No more than ten minutes.”

  “And while you were in the kitchen, you heard the bees?”

  “That’s right, just before I went back through to the dining room, where all hell had broken loose. That’s when we all made a run for it.”

  “Could I take a look outside?”

  “Of course. I’ll just get my coat.”

  We took the lift to the ground floor, and I led the way to the front of the building.

  “That’s your apartment up there, isn’t it?” I pointed.

  “Yes, the one on the right.”

  “There’s no obvious way for anyone to gain access from the outside. No drainpipes to climb.” Just then, I felt something crunch under my foot. “Watch out for the glass, Lori.”

  “One of the neighbours probably dropped a bottle. They can be so inconsiderate. How difficult would it have been to sweep it up?”

  “Do you think I could view the CCTV footage while I’m here?”

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll take you to see Cyril. He’s the security guy. Would it be alright if I leave you with him? I need to pop into town to do some shopping.”

  “Yes, I’ll be fine, thanks. I’ll let you know as soon as I have something to report.”

  Cyril showed me the CCTV footage for the day in question, focussing on the period of time when Lori and her friends had evacuated the building. The camera that covered the corridor outside her apartment didn’t pick up anyone going inside, from the time of the evacuation until the pest control man arrived. Likewise, after he left, no one entered her apartment until Lori returned.

  I thanked Cyril for his help, and then magicked myself over to the town hall in Candlefield, arriving at the subscriptions office with only five minutes to spare. Behind the counter was the same slim young man with the weird quiff.

  “I’m back again,” I said.

  He looked nonplussed, as he clearly didn’t remember me from the day before.

  “How can I help you, madam?”

  “I’d like to renew the subscription on my spell book. It lapsed a few months ago.”

  “Certainly.” He reached for a form. “Your name, please?”

  “Jill Maxwell.”

  “And the registration number of the spell book?”

  I gave him the seven-digit number.

  “Including the period when your subscription had lapsed, that will be a total of one hundred and thirty-five pounds, please.”

  “Thanks.” I took out my purse and handed him my credit card.

  “What’s this, madam?”

  “Sorry?”

  “I assume you live in the human world.”

  “That’s right. I do. Why?”

  “Have you forgotten that credit cards aren’t accepted in Candlefield?”

  Oh bum! I had.

  “Where can I draw out some money?”

  “There’s a cash machine five minutes from here, near the bus station.”

  “Okay. Can you hold onto this form until I get back?”

  He glanced up at the clock. “I’m very sorry, madam, but we close in two minutes. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  Oh bum, bum, and triple bum!

  What would Jack and Ike say when they found out that, once again, I’d failed to renew the subscription, and that Ike would have to stay with us for another day?

  ***

  I’d just arrived home and stepped out of the car when Naomi Normal came hurrying across the road. Oh no! This was unlikely to be good news.

  “Jill, do you have a second?” she said.

  “Actually Naomi, I was just about to go inside and make dinner.”

  “It’s just that the strangest thing has happened.”

  “Freddy hasn’t gone missing again, has he?”

  “No, he’s in his cage, but ever since he came back, we keep finding paper clips all around the house. Every time we let him out of his cage, we find a few more. I can’t understand it.”

  “That is strange.”

  “I can’t imagine where they’re coming from, Jill.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I just thought with you being a private investigator, you might have some bright ideas.”

  Huh? “No, sorry. Paperclips aren’t really my area of expertise.”

  “Okay, well thanks, anyway.”

  No wonder I hadn’t been able to find a single paper clip all week. Freddy must have nicked them. The little toerag.

  I walked up the drive and opened the door, but I couldn’t get into the house because the hall was jam-packed full of giant trains and the like. There was a green steam engine, a blue diesel engine, what looked like a passenger carriage, and a signal box.

  “Make room for a little one,” I shouted.

  “Sorry, Jill.” Clare, AKA the signal box, moved to one side to allow me in.

  “What do you think of our costumes, Jill?” said Jack, AKA the steam train.

  “They’re very nice, but there isn’t much room in here with the four of you.”

  “Sorry, Jill,” said Tony, AKA the diesel train. “We were just discussing our plans for Sunday. We probably ought to take this discussion outside, guys.”

  “What do you think of my costume, Jill?” asked Mr Hosey, AKA the railway carriage.

  “It’s very nice, Mr Hosey, but then you do have a penchant for costumes in your role as neighbourhood watch supervisor. Speaking of which, how is that going at the moment? I haven’t spotted you recently, so you must have found some really good camouflage.”

  “I wish that was true, but actually I’ve resigned my post.”

  “From neighbourhood watch? Really? I had no idea.”

  “I’ve reached the point where I’ve exhausted the full range of camouflage outfits, so it’s time to pass on the baton to someone else. What about you, Jill, would you be interested?”

  “Me? No, I can’t do it. There are barely enough hours in the day as it is.”

  “Come on, guys,” Jack said. “Let’s go outside and give Jill some room.”

  It was a tight squeeze, but the two engines, one carriage and the signal box eventually managed to get through the door.

  As soon as they’d gone, Ike came running down the stairs.

  “Did you do it, Jill? Did you update the subscription?”

  “I’m afraid not. Sorry.”

  His face fell. Or, at least, I think it did. It was hard to tell because it was slowly falling to pieces.

  “Why not?”

  “I’d totally forgotten that I couldn’t use plastic in Candlefield. They insisted on cash.”

  “Couldn’t you have drawn some out?”

  “I did, but by then the office had closed. I’ll just have to go back there again tomorrow.”

  He slumped down onto the bottom step. “I told the wife I’d be back tonight.”

  “I’m really sorry, Ike. I messed up.”

  “It’s okay. This whole thing’s my fault. Do you think I could borrow your phone again? I’d better give the wife a call and tell her I’m going to be here for another day.”

  Chapter 12

  When I woke up the next morning, Jack was already out of bed. I figured he must have gone downstairs to get his muesli before Ike made an appearance. I threw on my dressing gown and went down to the kitchen, but there was no sign of him.

  How very strange.

  If he’d been called into work unexpectedly, he would have left me a note, but there was no sign of one. I went through to the lounge and looked out of the front window; his car was still on the drive.

  Where was that man hiding?

  I decided to put the kettle on and then I’d go and take another look upstairs for him. The only place he could be was the spare bedroom, but I couldn’t believe he’d be playing with his train set while Ike was in there.

  I’d just poured the water into the kettle when I happened to glance out of the window. Seated on the bench on the patio, dressed in his big winter coat, was Jack. He had his hood up and his back to me, so he hadn’t seen me, and I couldn’t see what he was doing. I tapped on the window, but there was no response. I tapped again. Still no response. He clearly couldn’t hear me because of his hood.

  I threw on a coat, slipped on some shoes and went outside.

  “Jack? What are you doing out here?”

  When he turned around, I could see that he had a bowl of muesli in his hands.

  “And why on earth are you eating muesli in the back garden? It’s freezing out here.”

  “I was worried that Ike might come downstairs while I was in the middle of eating my breakfast. The trouble is the muesli is beginning to freeze over.”

  “Sometimes you worry me.”

  “Hello, you two.” It was Britt from next door. “Isn’t it a bit cold to be having your breakfast out in the garden, Jack?” She grinned.

  “Err—I—err—I just fancied some fresh air.”

  It wasn’t surprising that he’d stumbled over his words; he could hardly tell her that he was afraid to eat in the kitchen in case he was joined by our undead houseguest.

  Just then, Kit came out to join her. The two of them looked much happier than the last time I’d seen them.

  “How are things with you two?” I said, in the hope that a change of subject might stop them from wondering why my crazy husband was sitting in the garden, eating muesli.

  “Much better, Jill,” Britt said. “I’m sorry we were such misery guts the last time we spoke to you.”

  “That’s okay. I can understand how you’d be disappointed about the marathon.”

  “We were, but we definitely overreacted. Still, one good thing has come out of it. We’ve decided that we’d both like a change of career.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to give up the gym and personal training?”

  “That’s the plan, but we’ll be staying in the health sphere. We’ve talked about it long and hard, and we’ve decided we’d like to open a small health food restaurant.”

 

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