Early on Monday morning, I had a phone call from Blaze who called to thank me for the tip-off. He confirmed that they’d closed down the human blood sales in Mushroom. Plus, as a result of information given up by the barman, who was trying to save his own skin, Blaze thought they were now much closer to finding the ‘Mr Big’ who was behind the blood distribution network.
“We must never get divorced,” Jack said, over breakfast.
“We aren’t even married yet.”
“I know, but when we are, we must never get divorced. After yesterday’s hangover, I can’t go through another stag night.”
“Don’t expect any sympathy from me. You should take a leaf out of my book: Moderation in all things.”
“Like blueberry muffins?”
“That’s different.”
“And custard creams?”
“I seem to recall we were discussing your hangover.”
“I can’t believe that one-eyed cat of yours won the show.”
“That’s what Kathy said.”
“He didn’t speak to the judges, did he?”
“Of course he didn’t. I’m the only one who can hear him talk.”
“It must be great being able to talk to animals. I’ve often wondered what they’re thinking. Does Winky have many profound thoughts to share with you?”
“Not exactly. Most of the time, all he wants to talk about is salmon and his girlfriends.”
“Plural?”
“Oh, yes. There’s Judy, Daisy and—err—what’s the other one? Oh, yes, Trixie.”
“Wow! Who would have thought it? Just think, this time next week, we’ll be husband and wife. You’ll be Mrs Maxwell.”
“That reminds me. I’d better check that Mrs V has ordered my new sign. I’m hoping it’s going to be installed while we’re on honeymoon.”
My phone rang; it was Aunt Lucy.
“Jill? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but you don’t sound very good.”
“I’m not. I would have called yesterday, but I didn’t have the strength to pick up the phone.”
“Have you had the flu?”
“No. I’m still recovering from the hangover to end all hangovers. It’s my own fault. I’m calling because I seem to remember that you didn’t make it to the second nightclub, so I wanted to check you were okay.”
“I’m fine, but I think you should go back to bed.”
“Don’t worry, I intend to.”
“I’m going around to Pearl’s later, to see the two Lils.”
“Thank goodness I’m not meant to be babysitting today. I don’t think I’d be able to manage it. Say hello to the twins for me, would you?”
“I will. Now try to get some sleep.”
***
I’d tried numerous times to get hold of Graham Hardy, the fourth member of the bowling party, but he wasn’t picking up, and he hadn’t responded to my voicemails.
It was time for the direct approach.
“Graham Hardy?” I door-stepped him as he left his house.
“Who are you?”
“Jill Gooder. I tried calling you, but—”
“I have nothing to say to the press.”
“I’m not the press. I’m a private investigator.”
“I have nothing to say to you either.”
“Jack Maxwell said he thought you’d talk to me. He and I live together.”
“Oh, right, sorry. I didn’t realise who you were. I was just on my way to the shops.”
“I’d only need a few minutes of your time.”
“Sure, I can go to the shops anytime. I’ve got all the time in the world since I lost my job. Shall we go inside?”
We went through to the kitchen where he made us both a cup of tea.
“Sugar?”
“Yes, one and two-thirds spoonfuls, please.”
He gave me a puzzled look, and then passed me the sugar bowl.
“Do you live here alone, Graham?”
“Yeah. The wife left me the day after WashChem made me redundant.”
“Oh dear. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It had been coming for a long time; losing my job was the last straw for Irene. She’s living with her sister now—the two of them deserve one another.” He managed a weak, but unconvincing smile. “Did you know that I left the bowling alley early on Tuesday night?”
“Yeah. Jack mentioned it. Can I ask why you had to leave?”
“My brother hasn’t been well. I had a phone call to say he’d been taken into hospital.”
“I’m sorry. Is he okay?”
“He’s doing better now, thanks.”
“Did you hear that Chris Jardine has been charged with Bill’s murder?”
“Yes. I suppose it was only a matter of time before he found out about Bill and Sarah, but I never thought he’d do something like this.”
“You knew about the affair, then?”
“I’ve known about it for a while. I saw Bill and Sarah together.”
“Did you say anything to Chris?”
“No. It wasn’t my place to interfere in his marriage.”
“I’ve spoken to Chris since he was arrested. He maintains he had no idea that his wife was seeing Bill.”
Graham shrugged.
“Don’t you believe him?”
“It’s not for me to say, but if I knew about it, I’d be surprised if Chris didn’t.”
We’d finished, and I was on my way out of the door.
“Thanks for your time and for the tea.”
“No problem.”
“Incidentally, which hospital is your brother in?”
“Washbridge General. Why?”
“No reason.”
I called Jack.
“I’ve just spoken to Graham Hardy. It seems he knew that Sarah and Bill were having an affair. If he knew, there must be a chance that Chris did too.”
“I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Yes, but then you are the world’s least observant person.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you know Graham’s brother?”
“I’ve never met him. Graham mentions him occasionally. From what I can make out, he hasn’t been in the best of health for a while. I’m sorry, but I have to get going—I have a meeting with my boss in ten minutes. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”
“Love you, too. See you later.”
***
I’d promised to go to Pearl’s house, to see the two Lils.
Amber answered the door. “We’re in the kitchen. Come on through.”
“Hiya, Jill.” Pearl was just putting the kettle on. “Tea?”
“I’ve only just had one but go on then.”
“I have custard creams.”
“I would hope so too. Where are Lil and Lil?”
“In the lounge.”
“Can I take a quick peep? I won’t wake them.”
“It’s okay. They’re not asleep.”
Fastened into their baby seats, the two Lils were both gooing with joy, as they watched the show which had been put on for their benefit. A show that was being performed by a dozen or more soft toys, which had apparently come to life.
“Amber! Pearl! Have you got a minute?”
The twins came rushing through to the lounge.
“What’s wrong?” Amber sounded panic-stricken. “Is my Lil okay?”
“They’re both okay.”
“You scared me to death,” Pearl scolded me.
“Sorry, but I seem to recall you told Aunt Lucy that under no circumstances could she use magic to amuse the Lils.”
“Oh, that,” Pearl said, sheepishly.
“Yes, that. This looks to me like a case of do as I say, not as I do.”
“They take such a lot of entertaining,” Amber said.
“I’m sure they do. That’s why Aunt Lucy is shattered by the time she hands them back each day.”
“You won’t tell her, will you?” Pearl said.
“No, I won’t.”
“Phew.”
“Because you two are going to tell her.”
“We can’t. She’ll kill us.”
“I don’t care. It’s your own fault. You have to let her know that it’s okay for her to use magic to entertain Lil and Lil when she needs to.”
“Okay, okay.” Amber sighed. “We’ll tell her.”
“Tomorrow.”
“You can be so hard sometimes, Jill.”
The Lils were still totally engrossed in the show, so the three of us went back through to the kitchen.
“Is that all I get?” I stared at the two custard creams.
“A couple is more than enough for anyone.”
“I know, but you’ve only given me two.”
“Two is a couple.”
“In theory, maybe.”
“No, not in theory. A couple equals two. Always.” Pearl put the packet back in the cupboard.
She could be so mean.
“Have you two recovered from the hen night?”
“Just about.”
“That’s more than I can say for Aunt Lucy.”
“We haven’t heard from Mum since Saturday night.”
“When she called me earlier, she sounded like death warmed up.”
“It was Mad’s mother that did for her,” Amber grinned. “That woman is crazy. Which reminds me, where did you and Mad disappear to? When we got to Toadstool, there was no sign of either of you.”
“Mad was feeling a bit off it, so I took her home.”
“That’s strange.” Pearl grinned. “When we spoke to Mad yesterday, she said you’d been feeling ill, so she took you home.”
“Busted.” I laughed. “We’d both had enough.”
“You oldies can’t take the pace.”
“Talking about oldies, did Grandma manage to stay the course?”
“And then some. They had to practically drag her and her crew off the dancefloor when it was time to close.”
I finished the second custard cream, coughed, and gestured to the empty plate, but Pearl simply ignored me.
“What’s happening about the self-order machines? Have you been in touch with the supplier?”
“Not exactly,” Amber said.
“What does that mean?”
“The number they gave us doesn’t exist.”
“But you know where they’re based, right?”
Pearl shook her head. “Ron, the guy who sold them to us, just came into the shop one day.”
“How did you contact him to place the order?”
“We did all the paperwork there and then in the shop.”
“Isn’t there an address on the paperwork?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then?”
“That doesn’t exist either.”
Oh boy.
***
I’d no sooner magicked myself back to Washbridge than my phone rang; it was Desdemona Nightowl.
“Jill, I thought you’d want to know that there’s been another theft. I heard about it just over an hour ago.”
“What’s been taken this time?”
“A gold bracelet belonging to Christine Ridings.”
“Where was it taken from?”
“The Nomad girls’ dormitory again.”
“I’ll be honest with you, headmistress, so far, I haven’t come up with any meaningful leads.”
“I’m sure you’re doing your best, but if this continues, I’ll have to call in the Candlefield police. I’d rather avoid that if I possibly can.”
“How would you feel about my going undercover in the Nomad dorm?”
“What do you mean by undercover?”
“If I posed as a pupil, I’d be able to witness the goings on in that dorm more closely.”
“I don’t think that will work.”
“I could use magic to make myself appear to be the right age.”
“I don’t doubt that you could, but there’s no way we’d be able to explain the sudden appearance of a new pupil. New starters are only allowed to join the school at the beginning of a new term. The thief would be bound to realise something funny was going on.”
“Right. Better scrap that plan then.”
“From what you’ve just said, Jill, it sounds like you think it was an inside job.”
“It’s certainly looking that way. Can you give me a few more days before you call in the police?”
“Of course, but please keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
As I walked back to my office building, I spotted a man who was wearing the same horrible jumper as Finn Waters had sported at The Sea’s The Limit. A little further along the street, a woman was wearing an identical jumper. By the time I’d reached my offices, I’d counted ten more people wearing them.
“Look, Jill.” Mrs V held up her version of the same jumper. “What do you think?”
“I think Grandma’s app must be very popular.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’ve just seen loads of people wearing the very same jumper. They must have been at The Sea’s The Limit, and used the app to download the pattern. What I don’t understand is how everyone managed to knit them so quickly.”
“They probably did what I did and used the wap to speed things up.”
“Hold on a minute. I thought the wap—err—app just produced a pattern based on the garment you’d photographed.”
“That’s all the basic wap does, but the premium version actually knits the jumper for you.”
Now it was all starting to make sense. Until then, I hadn’t been able to work out why Grandma would invest time and money into producing something that was being given away for free. “How much does the premium version cost?”
“It’s subscription based. It costs nine-ninety-nine per month. It’s a bargain when you consider how much time it saves.”
“And how exactly does it work?”
“Once you’ve used the basic wap to capture the pattern, you have to put the wool and knitting needles in a dark room, and then you click on the ‘Knit Now’ option.”
“What happens then?”
“I’m not really sure. You have to leave the room, or it won’t work.”
“I bet.”
“You wait outside the room for ten minutes, then when you go back, hey presto the jumper is all done. It’s like magic.”
“It most certainly is.” I started to walk towards my office, but then remembered something. “Mrs V, did you manage to order the new sign?”
“I did, dear. At least, I think so.”
“Aren’t you sure?”
“Mr Song is a very strange man, isn’t he? All the time I was trying to have a conversation with him, he insisted on singing.”
“I did warn you.”
“It might be as well if you give him a call yourself, just to be on the safe side.”
“I’ll do that.”
When I’d discovered that the only prizes at the cat show were certificates and rosettes, I thought Winky would do his nut, but he’d been as proud as punch. In fact, he’d already put his certificate and rosette up on the wall.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d win?” he said.
“You did.”
“And did you hear what the head judge said about me?”
“I did.” He was going to be unbearable from now on.
“While I think about it, you weren’t planning to work late tomorrow night, were you?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“I’m having a lady friend over for dinner. I’ve asked her to come to see my rosette and certificate.”
“Not your etchings, then?”
“Sorry?”
“It doesn’t matter. Who’s coming over?”
“Daisy. No, wait, it’s Judy.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He thought about it for a while. “No, I’m wrong. Judy couldn’t make it tomorrow. It’s Trixie. Definitely Trixie.”
Unbelievable.
Just then, Kathy came charging into my office; she didn’t look a happy bunny.
“I’m sorry to burst in on you, Jill, but if I’d stayed in the shop for another minute, I would probably have murdered your grandmother.”
“What’s she done now?”
“It’s bad enough that she opened a bridal shop right next door to mine, but now she’s ripping off every idea I come up with. Last week, we ran a twenty-per cent off promotion on wedding albums, so guess what?”
“She did the same?”
“She offered thirty per cent off them. It’s not just that—she’s stealing our ideas too. We’ve just introduced a new range of environmentally friendly confetti. It took me forever to source a supplier, and I spent ages putting together a window display to feature the new range. This morning, when I walked past her shop, guess what? She’s got exactly the same confetti, front and centre of her window.”
“That’s despicable. No one likes a copy cobra.”
“You mean, copycat.”
“I think you’ll find it’s cobra.”
From the sofa, Winky nodded his approval.
After Kathy had eventually calmed down and left, I called the sign company.
“It’s A Sign. Sid Song, singing.”
“Mr Song, hi, it’s Jill. My PA, Mrs V, called the other day about getting my current sign replaced.”
“You’re the private investigator, aren’t you?” he warbled.
“That’s right.”
“Change of name to Maxwell?”
“Correct.”
“It’s all in hand. It should be installed next week.”
“That’s great. Thanks.”