“When I said that, I didn’t think there was any possibility that it would ever happen.”
Winky turned his back on me. “I’ve had my heart set on this.” He snuffled, and for a moment, I thought he was about to cry. “I really thought you meant it this time.”
“Winky.”
“It’s alright. I’m sure I’ll get over it. Eventually.”
“Maybe, err—”
He turned around. “Yes?”
“Well, I suppose—”
“Yes?”
“You’d have to do exactly what I say.”
“Of course. I’m at your command.”
What had I just done?
***
Later that morning, I was still trying to work out how to tell Jack that we would have a pagecat at our wedding, when Mrs V came through to my office.
“Jill, there’s a strange little man out there.”
“Strange how?”
“Just strange.”
“Did he say what he wanted?”
“Just that he may have information that will be useful to you.”
“What’s his name?”
“I’m not sure. I asked a couple of times, but I couldn’t make out what he said.”
“Okay. You’d better show him in.”
The man, who was short and quite skinny, walked with a stoop.
“Good morning, Mr—”
“Manic.”
“Mr Manic?”
“It’s just Manic.”
“Right. Would you care to take a seat?”
“Manic prefers to stand.”
“Okay.” Here’s a golden rule to live your life by: Stay far away from anyone who refers to themselves in the third person. “How can I help you, err—Manic?”
“You can’t.”
“Right, so what’s the purpose of your visit today?”
“Manic can help you.”
“And how exactly can you do that?”
“Manic knows people.”
If I’d had a panic alarm installed, now would have been the time to press it.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“You’re a private investigator. Right?”
“That’s right.”
“Exactly.”
Oh boy.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t have the first idea what you’re talking about.”
“Manic knows a lot of people—bad people. Manic hears things—interesting things. Manic gives stories to the press and gets paid for them.”
“Right.”
“Manic can help you, too.”
“How exactly?”
“When you need information, you come to Manic. He finds the information you need. Then you pay Manic. Everyone is happy.”
“To be perfectly honest, I can’t imagine ever needing your—err—services.”
“Others have told Manic the same thing, but they’re usually wrong.” He dug into his pocket and dropped a grubby business card onto my desk. The only thing printed on it was a phone number. “Call this number and leave a message. Manic will call you back.”
“Right, but like I said—”
He stood up. “Manic will see himself out.”
“Who was that weirdo?” Winky came out from under the sofa.
“I’ve no idea, but I feel like I need a shower.”
“Anyway, about the cash for the tux.”
Before I could respond, my phone rang; it was Jack.
“Jill, I’ve just had a call from one of my old oppos at Washbridge police station. He wasn’t supposed to tell me, but he knew that Bill Mellor was a friend of mine.”
“Tell you what?”
“It seems that Bill didn’t die from natural causes. They say he was poisoned.”
“Accidentally?”
“I don’t know. They want the three of us: me, Chris and Graham to call in so they can interview us. I’ve said I’ll go in this afternoon, so it’s just possible that I’ll be late home tonight.”
“Could it be something he ate at the bowling alley last night? What about you? Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. We didn’t really have much to eat—just a burger and a coke.”
“Okay. Keep me posted.”
“Will do. See you tonight.”
Winky cleared his throat to get my attention. He was holding out his paw.
“How much is this tux going to cost me?” I said.
“A hundred should do it.”
“You don’t need to buy one. You can just hire it.”
“That is the cost to hire it. Feline tuxes aren’t ten a penny, you know.”
I checked my purse. “I’ve only got seventy-five pounds.”
“That’ll do.” He snatched the cash from my hand. “You won’t regret it. I’ll be the smartest pagecat you’ve ever seen.”
And the first.
Winky disappeared out of the window just as Mrs V came through to my office.
“What did that creepy little man want?”
“I honestly don’t have any idea. I think he was a lettuce short of a sandwich.”
“Shouldn’t that be a sandwich short of a picnic?”
“Lettuce, sandwich? Same difference.”
“I’ve been thinking about your pageboy situation, Jill, and maybe I can help.”
“How do you mean?”
“Do you remember the pageboy issue I had at my wedding?”
“Andy and Randy?”
“Andy and Raymond, actually, but yes. If you recall, I was worried about having both of them as pageboys in case they started fighting.”
“I never did find out how you resolved that situation. From what I remember, they both behaved perfectly on the day. How did you manage that?”
“I drugged them.”
“What?”
“I’m only joking. I bribed them both. I said I’d give them cash if they got through the ceremony without any problems, and they did. Anyway, I was thinking that maybe you could ‘borrow’ one of my pageboys for your big day. Andy or Raymond, you could have your pick.”
“That’s very thoughtful, Mrs V, but I’ve managed to sort out the pageboy problem. We’re going to have—err—that’s to say—err—we’ve decided not to bother.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive, but thanks for the offer.”
Chapter 7
Winky had taken the last of my cash for his tux, so I had to nip out to the ATM. When I checked the balance, I was pleasantly surprised to see there was a little more in the account than I’d expected. Jack and I had separate personal bank accounts plus a joint one used for all the household bills. He was much more sensible with money than I was, and no doubt had a bazillion pounds in his account. Even though I always worked to a really tight budget, I was lucky if my balance was still in double figures by the end of each month.
What do you mean, I should cut down on the muffins and custard creams? Everyone deserves a little treat occasionally. It’s not like I overindulge.
While I was out of the office, I decided to call in at Coffee Games for a coffee and a—err—nothing. Just a coffee. No muffins would pass my lips. Definitely not.
“Daze? How come you’re in here? Where’s Blaze?”
“He’s ill. He had to go home yesterday.”
“Oh dear. Nothing serious, I hope?”
“It turns out he’s allergic to dominoes.”
I laughed.
“I’m not joking. Apparently, it’s a little-known allergy called Dominitus. He was covered in little red blotches.”
“Poor thing. I hope he’s okay.”
“He’ll be fine. What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have a caramel latte, please.”
“Is that all?” She gave me a puzzled look. “Why are you making hand signals, Jill?”
“Shush! You never know who might be listening.”
“Are you pointing to the muffins?”
Drat. So much for my attempt at subterfuge.
“Would you like a board game to go with that? It’s Cluedo today.”
“Not for me, thanks. I can’t stay long.”
The shop was very busy, so I was forced to take the table next to the door—not one of my favourites because there was a draught every time someone went in or out.
I’d just taken a sip of coffee when the man on the next table got down on his hands and knees and crawled under my table.
“Excuse me. What are you doing?”
“Sorry.” He popped his head up. “I’ve lost my lead piping. You haven’t seen it, have you?”
“No. Have you tried the conservatory?”
What? Come on. That was not only comedy genius but lightning quick too.
“Very amusing.” He grimaced. “Ah, here it is.” He held up the tiny piece. “Aren’t you playing Cluedo?”
“No, I’m here by myself.”
“You should come and join in with our game. We’ve only just started. I’m Bob Green. I’m here with my girlfriend, Scarlet.”
“Green and Scarlet.” I laughed. “That’s very funny.”
“Sorry?”
“They’re both characters from Cluedo.”
“Are they? Oh yes, so they are. It had never occurred to me.”
Wow! Just wow!