All Was Revealed (11 page)

“What about the affair with the lottery?”

“That’s another thing. She cheated us all out of our money.”

“You don’t think she might have forgotten on that one occasion?”

“Of course not. She knew the odds of us winning were so small that instead of putting the bet on, she pocketed the money. I reckon she’d been doing it for months. She must have made a small fortune off us. Then when our numbers came up, she was in a right pickle. That’s why she pretended she’d forgotten.”

“Some of the other players believed her. I take it you didn’t?”

“Not for one moment.”

“Okay, thank you for being so candid, Justin.”

Chapter 12

Our next appointment was with Harry Payne. When Myrtle knocked on his door, it was a woman who answered—a woman with shocking red hair.

“Hello, Barbara,” Myrtle said. “Harry is expecting us.”

“Not here, he isn’t.”

“He told me ten o’ clock.”

“That’s as maybe, but Harry doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Since when?”

“Since when is it any of your business?”

Myrtle didn’t respond. Instead, she engaged her secret weapon—a kind of death-ray glare.

“If you must know, since two weeks ago. I threw him out. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”

“I had no idea. I bumped into him in the village, and arranged to meet him at ten. He never mentioned he’d moved out.”

“He probably assumed you’d heard. There’s been a lot of gossip.”

“Where’s he staying?”

“Where do you think? His second home: The Old Trout.”

“Look, this is none of my business, Barbara, but—”

“That’s never stopped you before, Myrtle.”

“I was just wondering why you threw him out?”

“Why do you think? He’s been up to his old tricks again.”

Myrtle nodded. It was amazing how quickly she could transform from interrogator to Agony Aunt.

“I thought he’d grown out of it.” Barbara continued. “A few years ago, he regularly went off with some pretty, young thing, but he always came back. But then, I put my foot down and told him enough was enough. I told him straight that if he ever did it again, that would be the end for him and me.”

“I’m really sorry.” Myrtle took Barbara’s hand in hers. “You deserve better.”

“You’re right, I do. What did you want to see Harry about, anyway?”

“We wanted a quick word about Madge.”

“Of course. I should have guessed. I doubt he’ll have a good word to say about her. It was because of Madge that I discovered he was cheating again.”

“How did that happen exactly?”

Myrtle had Barbara eating out of her hand now.

“He thought he was being clever. He’d got himself a P.O. box at the post office. He’d been using it for any correspondence which he didn’t want me to see. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, a letter dropped onto the doormat. It was addressed to Harry, c/o the P.O. box number. That shouldn’t have happened. Harry had set it up, so that the mail remained at the post office until he collected it. It was two tickets for Bravo, a West End show. I’d been trying to get Harry to take me to see it for months, but he said it was too expensive. At first, I thought he’d bought the tickets as a surprise for me, but then I saw the names printed on them. One was his, but the other wasn’t mine. It was one of his young assistants.”

When Barbara took a deep breath to compose herself, Myrtle gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“So, I packed his bags, and threw them in the front garden.”

“Good for you, Barbara. How did he take it?”

“He was more annoyed than upset.”

“Annoyed with you? He had a cheek.”

“Not with me. With Madge, for letting the letter slip through. He tried grovelling his way back in, but I wasn’t having any of it.”

“You did the right thing, Barbara. Thanks for your help.”

After leaving Barbara, Myrtle and I made our way to The Old Trout.

“How do you do that?” I said.

“Do what?”

“Be
good cop, bad cop
all in one?”

“I didn’t realise that’s what I was doing.”

“One minute you had her scared to death. The next, you were her best friend.”

“What’s your approach, Jill?”

“I tend to jump in feet first. Speak first, and think later. I’m more
bad cop, horrible cop
.”

That brought a smile to Myrtle’s face. “Living out here in the countryside probably makes a difference. I’m not sure your approach would go down well here. Anyway, what did you make of what Barbara had to say?”

“I don’t imagine Harry Payne was very happy with Madge Hick after that letter slipped through.”

“What makes you think it
slipped
through?”

“Do you think it might have been deliberate?”

“I don’t know. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

“Either way, he wouldn’t have been very happy about it, but it’s hardly a motive for murder.”

We caught up with Harry Payne in one of the rooms above The Old Trout.

“You didn’t mention you were living here, Harry,” Myrtle scolded him.

“Sorry. My head’s all over the place.”

He didn’t look like he’d had a shave for at least a couple of days. His hair was dishevelled, and his clothes looked like he’d slept in them. All in all, he looked a bit of a shambles.

“I’ve just spoken to Barbara,” Myrtle said.

“Is she still angry with me?”

“What do you think?”

“It’s all Madge’s fault.”

Myrtle engaged the death-ray glare again. “You don’t think you might have been partly to blame?”

“Well, yeah.” He back-pedalled. “Obviously, I shouldn’t have bought the tickets.”

“Or been seeing another woman?”

“Or that. But, if Madge had kept the letter at the post office like she was supposed to, none of this would have happened.”

Myrtle rolled her eyes. Harry Payne was three steps beyond stupid.

“Did you have it out with Madge?”

“Of course I did, but she claimed it was a mistake. Just like she did with the lottery. Very convenient mistake if you ask me. I pay over a hundred pounds a year for that post office box. I expected her to do her job right for that kind of money. Instead, she gets me thrown out of my house. I’m running out of clothes.”

If he was expecting sympathy from me or Myrtle, he was going to be very disappointed.

“Anyway, it’s finished between me and Rosie now. She’s gone and got herself a job at the abattoir. Do you think Barbara would take me back if I told her that?”

“I’m sure she would,” Myrtle said. “You should go around there after we’ve left.”

“Yeah, I think I will. I hate it here. This room smells like old frogs.”

After we’d left, I walked back to my car with Myrtle.

“Do you really think Barbara will take him back?”

“Of course not. She’ll probably kick his backside all around the village.”

“You crafty old thing. I like it.”

“Not so much of the ‘old’, thank you.” She grinned. “Let’s have a quick recap. So far we have Harry Payne who had a grudge against Madge because, in his eyes, she’d got him thrown out of the matrimonial home. And then there’s Justin Flower, who believed that Madge had reported him to Trading Standards. Florence Long seems an unlikely candidate, but does have access to the pharmacy. And we still have Brendan Breeze to interview. Any thoughts so far, Jill?”

“None of those we’ve interviewed strikes me as a murderer, but I’ve been wrong before. I’d really like to get inside Madge’s house, and take a look around. Do you think that’s going to be possible?”

“Through official channels? Probably not. But I might be able to arrange it—leave it to me; I’ll talk to oddjobs.”

Oddjobs? Before I could ask, she’d turned and walked away.

***

Mrs V was at her desk; sitting next to her, with his hands covered in wool, was none other than Armi.

“Hi, Armi. You’re becoming a regular visitor.”

He could barely meet my gaze. “Hello, Jill.”

“I see Mrs V has got you helping with the wool again.”

“Annabel says I have the hands for it.” He laughed nervously.

It looked as though reversing the spell had done the trick. Armi was back to his old self.

“By the way, Jill,” he said. “I want to apologise for anything I may have said or done over the last forty-eight hours.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what came over me, but I haven’t been myself for a couple of days. I became rather loud and obnoxious. I know I upset Annabel a little.”

“Yes, but you’re forgiven now.” Mrs V patted his shoulder.

“I’ve upset Gordon too. He’s barely talking to me.”

“I shouldn’t worry about that.” I grinned. “It’s probably no bad thing to stand up to Gordon every now and again. He can be awfully overbearing.”

“You may be right, but it’s not something I’m used to doing. I’ve always admired how you stand up to him. Anyway, if I did say anything inappropriate, I apologise. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Are you taking any meds, Armi?”

“Just something for my sinuses.”

“That might be it. Look at what happened to me the other day. I came over very peculiar after I’d taken those hay fever meds. I even called you a goblin.”

“I’m never likely to forget that. Maybe I should talk to the pharmacist about changing brands.”

Winky was in the windowsill. His tiny flags had been discarded, and in their place, he was holding a remote control. Moments later, a small helicopter came through the window. He grabbed it, tore off the note and read it. Then he scribbled a reply, which he attached before sending the chopper on its way. It was just like old times.

Winky’s last remote control helicopter had crashed and burned.

“Where did you get the new helicopter from?”

“I ordered it online. It came this morning.”

“With my credit card, I assume?”

“Of course.”

“I hope it didn’t cost too much.”

“What price love?”

“Why didn’t you get Bonnie and Clive to pay?”

“Who?”

“Bella’s owners—err—I mean the people Bella lives with.”

“They’re humans. They wouldn’t understand.”

“So muggins here has to foot the bill again?”

“What are you complaining about? I hear you have a paying case for a change.”

“I do actually. And it involves a well-known TV celebrity.”

“Starr Fish?” He laughed. “Do me a favour. She was Z-list at best. Unlike me.”

“You? Since when are you a celebrity?”

“A-list regular, that’s me.”

“I’ve never seen you in the gossip pages.”

“That’s because you don’t read the feline mags: Whiskers, Fur and Claws. I’m always in one of them. Bella too.”

“If you’re such a big time celebrity, how come you don’t pay your way?”

“That’s what
you
are for.”

Nice to know.

Twenty minutes later, Winky had said his goodbyes, via helicopter, to Bella, and he was curled up asleep on the sofa.

The room suddenly went a little chilly. A moment later, Colonel Briggs’ ghost appeared. I was surprised to see he was by himself. Something was obviously amiss.

“Colonel, are you okay?”

“Not really, Jill.”

“Whatever’s the matter? Is it Priscilla?”

“Sort of, yes.”

“She’s not ill, is she?”

“She’s a ghost, Jill. She’s dead—she can’t get much more ill than that.”

“Of course, sorry. I keep forgetting about that. What is it, then?”

“You know we moved back to the house?”

“Yes. How are things working out up there?”

“Everything was fine. Until Matthew turned up.”

“Who’s he?”

“A ghost. Matthew Most.”

Matthew Most the ghost? “Where did he come from?”

“That’s a jolly good question. I’d always understood that ghosts could only haunt buildings where they’d lived during their lifetime, or a building occupied by a relative or close friend. It seems this guy moves in anywhere that takes his fancy. He first turned up three or four days ago. Since then, he’s made a real nuisance of himself. What’s worse, he’s obviously taken with Cilla; he’s been flirting outrageously with her.”

“How does Priscilla feel about that?”

“I have to be honest, Jill. I’m a little disappointed in her. I thought we had a good thing going, but Matthew seems to have turned her head. She denies it, but I’ve seen the look in her eye when he’s around.”

“Are you both still wandering around in the nude?”

“Not since he showed up. It just doesn’t feel right.”

“I thought you two had really hit it off.”

“Me too. The reason I popped in to see you is because I seem to recall you have a friend who is a Ghost Hunter?”

“Yes. Mad Lane. She helped me with Battery.”

“That’s what I thought. I wondered if she might be able to do a little sniffing around to see if she could find out anything about Mr Matthew Most. There’s something about him that feels a little shady. Could you ask your friend to see if she can turn up anything?”