Witch Is When Things Fell Apart (8 page)

Chapter 8

Mrs V was not happy—
again
. I could tell by the way she was taking her frustration out on her knitting. The needles were moving so quickly it was a wonder there weren’t sparks.

“Is your sister still giving you a hard time?” I said.

“G always gives me a hard time, I’m used to her.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“It’s your grandmother.”

“You haven’t fallen out again, have you?” Mrs V and Grandma had had a love/hate relationship ever since Ever A Wool Moment opened.

“Not yet, but we’re probably going to.”

“What has she done now?”

“You know what she’s like with her promotional ideas.”

I nodded. Grandma might not be my favourite person in the world, but the woman knew marketing.

“G was bragging about her national wins—as per usual, and your Grandma suggested we go head-to-head. Clash of the Titans, she called it.”

“How?”

“Speed knitting. Your grandmother wants us to sit in the window of her shop and knit for four hours solid. The one who produces the longest scarf in that time will be crowned ‘Ever A Wool Moment Speed Knitting Champion’.”

“Catchy title. Are you up for it?”

“It doesn’t look like I have a choice. Your grandmother has already told a local charity they can hold a collection in front of the shop. If I back out now, it’ll look mean spirited.”

“Can you win?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never entered a speed knitting competition before, but I expect G will win. She wins everything.”

As promised, the friendly concierge had called to let me know the young man and woman from floors one and two were back in residence. I was just about to go over there to see them when I heard someone come into the outer office. I didn’t have any appointments—maybe Luther had more questions? I lived in hope.

“There’s a Detective Shay to see you,” Mrs V said.

“Who’s he?”

“
She
works with Detective Maxwell apparently.”

The floozy. “Send her in.”

Detective Shay looked as though she’d just done sucking on a lemon.

“Jill Gooder.” I forced a smile.

“Detective Susan Shay.”

I began to laugh, but then caught myself.

“Something funny?” Detective Shay didn’t wait to be invited to take a seat.

“Sorry, no nothing. Susan, did you say?”

She nodded.

“Sue Shay, Sushi?” I grinned. “Sorry, I imagine you get that a lot.”

“What?” She looked puzzled.

“Nothing. Sorry. What can I do for you today, Susan?”

“Detective Shay.”

So, that’s how you want to play it, eh? “How can I help,
Detective Shay
?”

“I’m working with Detective Maxwell.”

“Yes, I noticed that you seemed to be hard at it the other day in the coffee shop.”

“When you were hiding in the next booth?”

Touché. “I wasn’t hiding, like I said to Jack—”

“It doesn’t matter. I just want to get a few things straight.”

She should have started with her hair. No one was going to take her seriously with those curls.

“I worked with Detective Maxwell for six years in Camberley.”

Worked? Just worked?

“We made a great team until he requested a transfer.”

“After the Camberley kidnap?”

“You know about that?”

I nodded.

“Then you’ll understand why we don’t need an amateur P.I. interfering in our work. Stick to the things you’re good at: unfaithful partners, missing dogs.”

Turning you into a toad? My natural instinct was to tell her where she could shove her blonde curls, but I didn’t want to give her ammunition to use against me with Maxwell.

“I know what happened in Camberley,” I said. “Jack and I have discussed it. I would never do anything which would endanger someone’s life. Wherever possible, I’ll keep him posted of—”

“From now on, you deal with me.”

“Does that come from Jack?”

“No, it comes from me.”

I’d had quite enough of Sushi. “If that’s everything, I have an appointment.”

She stood up. “What’s that ugly thing?”

Winky had been fast asleep under my desk, and had only now decided to see what all the noise was about.

“Winky isn’t ugly. He just has eye issues.”

“You should put some kind of warning on the door. If someone had a dicky heart—”

“Thank you for coming to see me today, Detective.”

“Just remember what I said.”

“Who does she think she’s calling ugly?” Winky said, after she’d left. “Did you see her hair?”

I took the lift to the first floor. The papers had mentioned that Darcy James was a part time model. She didn’t look much like one today, with her oversize curlers, jogging bottoms and green face pack.

“Who are you?” she said.

“My name is Jill Gooder.” I flashed my card quickly in front of her face. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about the murder.”

“I’ve already told your people everything I know.”

Hey, if she thought I was the police, who was I to correct her?

“I just have a couple of questions. It won’t take long.”

“I suppose you’d better come in.” She sighed, and took a seat on the sofa.

It’s okay, I’ll stand.

“You were in the lift when the murder took place?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t see anything. Not until he dropped down dead.”

“Did you know the victim?”

“I’d seen him around, but we’d never spoken.”

“Not even a ‘good morning’?”

“No.”

Probably too busy checking her Facebook messages or tweeting. She looked the sort—not that I was judging.

“What about the other residents? How well do you know them?”

She shrugged. “I don’t speak to any of them.”

“No one?”

“I just said, didn’t I?”

Beauty, charm and a liar.

“I understand you’re a model, Ms James?”

“Miss. I don’t go in for all that ‘Ms’ rubbish. Only part time.”

“What do you do the rest of the time?”

“I’m studying for a degree in psychology.”

After I’d knocked for the third time, I was beginning to think the man on the second floor must have slipped out. Then the door opened.

“Hello?” He peered around the door which was on a chain.

“Morning. Jason Allan?”

He nodded but made no eye contact.

“I’m Jill Gooder. I’m investigating the murder in the lift, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Just routine. It should only take a few minutes.”

“I have to go out shortly.”

“Like I said, it won’t take long.”

He slid off the chain, and opened the door. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Sorry about the mess.” He led the way inside. “I need to tidy.”

He’d got that much right. The apartment looked like an explosion in a launderette. There were clothes, most of them dirty, all over the floor, and on every surface.

“Take a seat,” he said.

Every chair was covered with clothes—including some unsavoury looking underwear.

“It’s okay. I’ll stand.”

I ran through my usual list of questions. His answers were slow and ponderous. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous or high on something.

“What do you do for a living?”

He shrugged. Maybe the question was too difficult. I rephrased it.

“Where do you work?”

“I don’t have a job. Not at the moment anyway. I used to be a carpet fitter, but I had to give it up. Problems with my knees. The job’s murder on the knees.”

“I can imagine. Do you know any of the other residents?”

He shook his head.

“Are you sure? What about the woman on the first floor?”

His cheeks flushed red, and he began to shuffle around on the chair. “I don’t know her.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

I wasn’t sorry to get out of his apartment. That made two for two in the dishonesty stakes. Darcy had denied she knew Jason—which to be honest, was understandable, and he’d denied he knew her. What did they have to hide? And, how were they paying the rent on this place? I hadn’t checked the actual figures, but there wouldn’t be much change out of two thousand pounds a month. Darcy’s part-time modelling and Jason’s carpet fitting, when he was actually working, wouldn’t cover that kind of outlay.

I took the stairs, and bumped into the cleaner in between the first and second floors.

“Do you have a minute?” I said.

“Sure. Nothing exciting going on here.”

“Were you working when the murder happened?”

“No. It was my day off. I work two on and one off.”

“Do you clean the apartments?”

“No. Just the common areas. Some of the residents employ their own cleaners.”

Not the guy on two obviously.

“Do you talk to the residents?”

She laughed. “Me? I doubt they know I exist. I’m invisible.”

“I bet you see what goes on though.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you have any ideas about who might have committed the murder?”

She shook her head.

“Anything you can tell me? Did you witness any arguments between the residents?”

“No arguments, but—” She seemed unsure whether to continue.

“Go on. I won’t mention this to anyone.”

“I suppose you already know about those two? The woman on one and the man?”

I nodded. This was confirmation that the concierge had been correct about Darcy and Jason. So why had they denied knowing one another?

I called Jack Maxwell’s number. I didn’t have anything much to report—it was more a courtesy call to let him know I’d spoken to all of the residents of Tregar Court.

“Detective Maxwell’s phone.”

I recognised Sushi’s voice immediately.

“Is Jack there?” I said.

“Gooder, is that you?”

The last time someone had addressed me as Gooder was when I was at school.

“Yes. Can I speak to Jack, please?”

“I’ve told you. Your point of contact is me now. What do you want?”

Aside from dipping you head first into a vat of acid? “Nothing, it isn’t important. Will you tell him I called?”

I didn’t wait for the reply—I already knew what it would be.

“Slow down! I can't understand what you’re saying.” Kathy grabbed me by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath.”

I took several but it didn’t help. I was ten degrees north of livid.

“She’s a cow!” I said.

“Who is?”

“A poisonous cow!”

“Who are you going on about Jill?”

“Sushi!”

“Have you been inhaling yarn fumes again? You know how that affects you.”

“Detective Susan Shay. Sushi.”

“Has Jack Maxwell moved on already?”

“No. He’s still here, but now he has a minder. Susan
Sushi
Shay. She had the bare-faced cheek to warn me off.”

“Warn you off what?”

“Not what.
Who
. Jack Maxwell. She said she’s my point of contact now. I’m to leave Jack alone.”

“What does he say about it?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. I can’t get near enough to find out. He’s too busy hiding behind his blonde floozy.”

“Well,” Kathy said. “It’s a good thing you don’t care about him otherwise you might really be upset.”

She ducked just in time to avoid the kangadillo which I threw at her.

“I’m not upset. This isn’t upset. This is angry!”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do?”

“You have to get Maxwell on his own. Maybe he doesn’t realise what his new partner is up to.”

“How am I meant to get him on his own when I can’t get near him?”

“Come on, Jill. You’re the resourceful one.”

Kathy was right. I did need to get Jack Maxwell on his own. If this really was the way he wanted things to be, then he should at least have the decency to tell me to my face.