Catchee Monkey: A Rex & Eddie Mystery (Rex & Eddie Mysteries Book 1) (4 page)

“I’m looking for the owner of a woodie,” he called out. “A lime-green woodie.”

Oh crap
, Eddie thought. He realised Harold meant the Morris Minor.

“Me!” Eddie said. “I’ve got a woodie.” The other occupants all stared at him. “I mean, a Morris Minor.”

“It’s getting towed.”

Eddie ran outside in enough time to watch the tow truck drive off with the Morris Minor. He’d forgotten there was no parking after four o'clock to allow a second lane during rush hour.

Knowing at least another hundred quid just drove down the street, Eddie sighed in defeat and walked back to his office of death.

“So, you knew about the killing.”

“You said you wanted a cheap office.”

“Now they’ve got six months rent, so we’re stuck here. Perfect.”

“Calm down Eddie, they caught the killer.”

“I’m googling it.”
 

Within fifteen minutes, Eddie found news stories of the death of a sixty-eight-year-old man named Derek Lawrence. He was ex-TV writer who used the office to write novels, none of them published. The man led a quiet life upsetting no one. It was not believed to be the Door Knock Killer, as he always removed the bodies. Many theorised the victim had been mistaken for someone else and wrongfully assassinated.

“The murder wasn’t solved,” Eddie said. “The killer was wearing gloves, there were no fingerprints anywhere. He entered, shot him in the back of the head, and left. That’s horrible.”

“It’s a bit boring if you ask me,” Rex said. “At least the Door Knock Killer has a gimmick.”

“So you’re not upset about the brutality, you’re just annoyed it’s a plain old fashioned murder? That it’s not creative enough for you?”

“Yeah.”

“I think if they were more creative, they’d find better solutions to their problems than killing people.”

“You’re right. Who am I to judge? I suppose he’s efficient at least. There is a quiet confidence to not over-thinking these things.”

Eddie stared at the dried bloodstains a little too long. “Why didn’t the building pay extra to re-sand the floor?”

“I don’t know, maybe the brains spread out a little more than they expected. If you think about it, they did a pretty good cleaning job.”

“They used bleach, right?” Eddie’s heart rate increased. “I mean, it’s not like we’ve got microscopic brain cells in our finger tips or anything.”

“Eddie, you’re freaking out.”

“Oh God, did I remember to wash my hands before lunch?” Eddie bent over in a fit of anxiety and dizziness.

“Relax Eddie. At worst it was a case of mistaken identity. That must make you feel a little bit safer.”

“That means it was a random killing. How are we safer? Anytime, anywhere, a killer may kill you for no reason. Does that sound safe to you? Does it?”
 

Lightheaded and out of breath, Eddie used the desk as support and lowered himself to the floor. Rex pulled a brown paper bag out of his blazer pocket, emptied out the leftover sweet wrappers and handed Eddie the bag.
 

“Breathe into this.”

Eddie took a deep breath in and sucked up a loose boiled sweet Rex accidentally left in the bag. Eddie choked. With the sweet lodged at the back of his throat, the anxiety didn’t seem so bad after all.
 

“Are you OK, Eddie?”

Eddie turned a shade of bright red. He tried to lift himself up, but his hand slid across the wall thanks to the still wet paint. Without anything to grip, Eddie skidded across the wet wall until his back smeared along the paint. Rex peeled Eddie off the wall and slapped his back as hard as he could. Still choking, Eddie’s face turned from red to purple.

“Hold on.”

Rex wiped his paint-covered hand on Eddie’s already ruined shirt and gently took off his own blazer. He folded it, put it on the desk, and gave Eddie the Heimlich manoeuvre. After a few violent squeezes, the sweet dislodged and flung across the floor.

“Are you OK, Eddie?”

 
Eddie pushed Rex away, whose front was now covered in paint from Eddie’s back.

“I’m insane. Absolutely insane,” Eddie declared.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault. I said yes, to that oldsmobile, to the office, to investing nearly every penny I own into a foolhardy detective business.”

Rex hung his head.

“Every job we’ve ever had we’ve been fired from, so I’m gonna shorten my misery and fire myself.” Eddie stormed out the office with his car keys in hand. He entered the street and remembered the car was gone. After a little strop he walked towards home.

Rex chased after him. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“I’m not talking to you after what you’ve done to me.”

A young mother pushed a pram past them on the street. She gazed at the paint all down Eddie’s back and the paint covering Rex’s front.

Eddie shook his arms. “Not that. We weren’t doing that. We’re just friends.”

She picked up her pace as new pedestrians gawked at the pair.

“We’re still friends then?” Rex said, hopeful.

A group of chav teens pointed, laughed, and called them “Bummers.”

“A picture will last longer,” Eddie said.

The teens pulled their camera phones out and snapped away.

“It’s a figure of speech.” Eddie threw his arms in defeat and turned to Rex, who posed for the photos with a wide smile. Eddie shook his head and marched home.

***

The next morning, Eddie woke up clear-headed. He put on a suit and went back to The Octagon Shopping Centre. Without Rex there he decided he had at least half a chance of getting Griffin to rehire him.

Griffin placed tweezers in his half-built ship in a bottle. “Can’t do anything for you.”

“Please, you’ve got to save me.”

“I sympathise Edward, but if I re-hire you, I’ll have to re-hire Rex.”

Eddie shifted forward in the chair. “No, no you won’t, it’ll be our secret.”

“Too risky. I don’t want that crackpot here as a customer, let alone as an employee.”

“Come on, he’s not that bad. He’s a good friend, and he’s been a passionate business partner.”

Griffin smirked. “Business partner?”

Eddie dropped to his knees. “I know, I made a mistake. Please don’t send me back to him. I want my job back.”

The door knocked, and Rex entered with a bouquet of flowers.

“Hey Chief, just popped by to—” Rex noticed Eddie kneeling on the floor. Filled with embarrassment, Eddie jumped back on his feet. They both felt caught with their figurative trousers down.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked.

“Visiting?”

“You’re trying to get your job back, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“I told you yesterday, Rex. I ain’t hiring.”

“You were here yesterday as well?”

Rex chortled. “Chief’s joking.” He placed the flowers next to an identical, day-old, bouquet. “You know the chief and his crazy sense of humour.”

Eddie placed his hands on his hips. “So why are you here?”

“I came for … my lamp.” He grabbed a random lamp off the filing cabinet.

“Put the lamp down, Rex,” Griffin said.

“It’s my lamp, Chief.”

“Don’t call me Chief.” Griffin squeezed his tweezers too hard and snapped his ship’s mast.

Rex leaned in close to Eddie. “Seriously, you can’t lend this man anything.”

“That’s it. Get out of my office. You two harass me again, and I’ll ban you both from the whole damn shopping centre.”

“Over a lamp?” Rex asked.

“Get out!” Griffin jumped from his seat in a rage and pounded both hands on his desk, which knocked his ship in a bottle off the table. It shattered into smithereens.

“Rex, I believe our ship has sailed.”

“One. More. Word,” Griffin growled. “I dare you.”

Eddie sped towards the door, and dragged Rex along with him. Rex lifted his hand to his ear like a phone and mouthed, “Call me.”

Griffin threw a second ship in a bottle at the door as Eddie closed it.

“He’ll call,” Rex said. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Now my last chance of getting my job back went from never to never ever? Well, I think I shall go home, curl up into the foetal position, and cry until I’m resigned to the fact no one will ever hire me.”

“But someone wants to hire us.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “A client called?”

“Sort of.”

“Goodbye, Rex.”

“No listen, there's a reward for information on the murderer of the old man in our office.”

Eddie waved his hands dismissively and walked down the corridor.

“Five grand,” Rex said.

Eddie stopped. “Five grand?”

“Yeah.”

He turned to face Rex. “For what?”

“Information proving who the killer is. His daughter is offering five thousand quid for it.”

“It’s tempting, but I think the whole detective thing was a mistake. We should quit while we still have some money left. Find another job.”

“As what? Security guards, lifeguards, that summer we were paperboys.”

“We were kids back then.”

“No, the second time, three summers ago.”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, right. I think I forgot that on purpose.”

“There aren’t any good jobs for us.”

“It’s too risky. I’ve practically lost everything I saved.”

Rex gave a gentle smile. “But not quite everything.”

“Is that meant to be a silver lining or something?”

“Think of it this way, if we find the killer, you get the five grand, I get the credit. You’ll get your investment back plus change, I get the fame and glory, and we both go our separate ways.”

“Why not separate now?”

“It’s my first case Eddie, I can’t do it without you. We do everything together.”

“But we split after the case?”

“I promise.”

“Done.” Eddie offered out his hand, and they shook on it.

Rex smiled. “Or at the most until I get my own driving licence.”

FIVE

Eddie passed over the ticket and leaned on the impound office’s counter “I’m here to pay a fine.”

The gruff-looking man took the ticket and glared at Eddie. “What’s that in your hair?”

Eddie grabbed the hair behind his ear and felt the dried paint from yesterday. “None of your business.”

Rex gazed in wonder at the decor: hubcaps, licence plates and other car parts hung from the wall. Rex enjoyed it all except the nude calendar, which he completely overlooked.

“You the owner?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Cash or credit.”

“Cash.”

The gruff man picked up his radio. “Phil, the man with the woodie is here.”

Rex sniggered.

“Why do people keep calling it that? It’s a Morris Minor.”

“That’s what people call it,” the gruff man said.

“What people?”

“Dunno, people that don’t own a car made of wood.”

Rex laughed. “Nice one mate.”

“Rex, did you know it was called a woodie?”

“My nan called it that when I showed her the ad. But she can’t tell the difference between the remote control and the wireless phone, so I didn’t take her too seriously.”

“We see a lot of cars come through here, not many wood— uh, Morris Minors any more. They say the wooden frame was phased out for more sturdy, reliable, material.”

“Yes, thanks for that. May I have my car now?”

“Yeah, that will be one hundred and twenty pounds.”

***

The Morris Minor spluttered and puffed along the winding country path towards a large cottage in Snodling Village. The village was north of the River Midway about twenty minutes west of Cloisterham. Rex and Eddie thought the house was posh, but in Cloisterham, anywhere out in the countryside was considered posh.

Rex jumped out of the car and practically skipped to the big red front door. He tapped a jaunty tune with the brass doorknocker.

“Please calm down,” Eddie begged.

“Do you think she’ll be our first femme fatale?”

“I think she’s a grieving woman.”

“Right, so, innocent victim. She’ll need a shoulder to cry on.”

“Don’t be creepy.”

Rex folded his arms. “How’s that creepy?”

“She needs information on her father’s murder. We will show her understanding and compassion.”

“How’s that different from what I said?”

The door opened and Stacey Lawrence, early thirties with bleach-blonde hair, opened the door. Heavy black eye shadow highlighted her milky complexion. Rex thought her make-up made her smoulder, Eddie thought she looked like a panda, but a sexy panda all the same. Eddie noticed her simple yellow dress was covered in creases, like she’d just thrown it on.

“You’re the detectives?”

“Um, yes,” Eddie said.

“You better come in.”

The house was a traditional white cottage with a thatched roof. The walls were painted pastel colours and dark antique furniture spread across each room. Although the cottage had large windows, the thick red drapes were pulled and let only a sliver of light into each room.

Stacey guided them to the kitchen. She stood at the kitchen island while the pair propped themselves on the high stools.

“Thanks for seeing us,” Eddie said.

She grabbed a bottle of vodka, poured a generous shot, and cocked her head to a display of spirits. “Would either of you like a drink?”

Eddie raised his palms. “I’m fine thanks.”

“Me too.”

“Come on, someone’s got to drink with me.”

“Cup of tea would be lovely,” Rex said.

She took a moment to work out if Rex was serious.

“Is he for real?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She turned to Rex. “You want a cup of tea?”

“Yes please. No milk, two sugars, and a lemon slice if you have it?”

“Because I’ve got spirits.”

“I won’t trouble you with that. Just a tea for me, thanks.”

“And you?”
 

Eddie wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed rude to say no, but it didn’t seem like she wanted to make one either. “If you’re making one.”
 

Stacey rolled her eyes and filled the kettle. She put the kettle on the hot stove and searched the cupboards for tea bags. She seemed frazzled and unsure of herself. “Sorry, I’m a little hungover.”