All Was Revealed (18 page)

Chapter 20

I was in the outer office with Mrs V when the door burst open, and Armi came rushing in. He was red-faced and out of breath.

“Armi, are you all right?” Mrs V looked concerned, and little wonder.

“I’m fine.” He gasped. “Just let me catch my breath.”

“Would you like a glass of water?” I offered.

“No, it’s okay. I’m all right. I’m glad I caught you both together, though.”

“Whatever’s wrong?” Mrs V said.

“It’s Gordon.”

“I might have guessed.” My blood pressure could rise just at the mention of his name. “What’s he done now?”

“He thinks he’s found a way to have you thrown out.”

“He’s tried before and failed. What’s he up to this time?”

“He’s got a picture of a cat sitting in your windowsill.”

Oh, bum.

Mrs V gave me a look; she knew that we weren’t meant to have Winky in the office.

“I don’t see how he can, Armi. We don’t have any cats in here,” I lied.

“Look, Jill, you don’t have to lie to me. I’ve seen the cat myself, but I don’t care. I love animals, and cats in particular. But I do know that it’s against the terms of the lease. When Gordon tells Zac, things might get very difficult for you. There’s something else, and I know this is going to sound crazy.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve seen the photo, and it looks like the cat is—” He hesitated. “No, it’s too ridiculous.”

“Go on, Armi, spit it out.”

“It actually looks like the cat is waving flags around.”

Mrs V looked puzzled. Me, not so much.

“Flags?” I tried to sound shocked.

“I told you that you’d think I was crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure a cat can’t wave flags, Armi,” Mrs V said.

Little did she know.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get back. I wanted to warn you both because I’m sure Gordon has called the landlord already. When he gets here, and Gordon shows him the photograph, things might be very difficult for you.”

“Okay. Thanks for the heads-up.” I forced a smile.

“See you later, Armi.” Mrs V blew him a kiss.

“How sweet.” I grinned.

“Never mind that, Jill. What are we going to do about Gordon Armitage? I warned you that stupid cat would get us into trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort something out.”

“But if he has a photo, we’ll be thrown out for sure.”

“Mrs V, I’ve already told you. Don’t worry. I’ve got this one.”

I knew that Gordon Armitage regularly popped out to his favourite coffee shop. He was a creature of habit, and made the trip at more or less the same time, once in the morning, and again in the afternoon. He could have sent a junior, but I suspected he was also going out for a crafty cigarette. A few minutes before his morning run, I waited behind the vending machine in the common area. When Gordon appeared, I stepped out in front of him.

“Gooder! You made me jump! What are you trying to do now? Give me a heart attack?”

Don’t give me ideas.

“Sorry, Gordon. I was just picking up the coin I dropped. I didn’t see you there.”

“A likely story. Get out of my way.”

“Time for a cigarette break, Gordon?”

“I don’t smoke. Now move!”

Before he could side-step me, I cast the ‘sleep’ spell, and managed to catch him as he slumped to the floor. His phone was in the outer pocket of his jacket. Fortunately, he hadn’t set a password, so I flicked through the screens, and brought up his gallery of photographs. Sure enough, the most recent one on there was of Winky, and he was indeed waving his little flags around. If Zac saw this, he’d have no option but to throw me out. I had to do something, and I had to do it quickly.

First things first. I dragged Gordon into the cleaners’ cupboard—I couldn’t have people tripping over him. Next, I popped back into my office.

“Mrs V, get your knitting needles, and go stand by the window in my office. The one where Winky usually sits.”

“Why?”

“Please, just do it. There’s no time to explain.”

“What do you want me to do there?”

“Wave your knitting needles around as though you’re signalling to someone.”

“People will think I’m crazy.”

“You have to trust me.”

She sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

So did I.

I didn’t have very long because Zac would arrive at any moment, so I rushed downstairs, out of the building, and waited until Mrs V appeared at my window. She looked rather self-conscious, but began to wave the knitting needles around, as instructed.

I took a photo on Gordon’s phone, and then deleted the one of Winky. After rushing back inside, I put the phone back in Gordon’s pocket, pulled him out of the cupboard, and reversed the spell.

“What happened? What am I doing on the floor?”

“You tripped. Are you all right?”

“Something weird is going on here.”

“You’re just clumsy, that’s all.”

“I’m not the least bit clumsy. Not normally. That’s the effect you have on me.” He climbed back to his feet. “Get out of my way.”

A few minutes later, Mrs V came into my office. “The landlord is here.”

I followed her into the outer office. “Hello, Zac.”

“Hi, Jill. Needless to say I’m here because of Gordon again. He insists that you’re keeping a cat in the office. He reckons he has a photo of it.” He sighed. “Waving flags.”

“A cat waving flags?”

“That’s what he says.”

“Do you think maybe he has a drink problem?”

Just then, Gordon came charging into the office.

“I heard that. No, I don’t have a drink problem, but what I do have is photographic evidence. What can’t speak, can’t lie.” He took out his phone. “Look, Zac, see?” He brought up the most recent photograph.

“Gordon,” Zac said. “Is this meant to be the photograph?”

“Yes! That’s the one.” Gordon didn’t even bother to look at the screen. He was too busy gloating.

“But that’s a photograph of Jill’s receptionist. And, from what I can see, she’s holding knitting needles in her hands. There’s no sign of any flags. Or cats.”

“That’s not the photograph,” Gordon insisted. “The photograph I had was of a cat waving flags.”

“Where is it, then?”

“I don’t know. It’s disappeared.” He turned to me. “You’ve done it again, Gooder. You’ve sabotaged me! It was a cat! I saw it with my own eyes! I’m not crazy!”

“Hmm? The jury’s still out on that one.” I grinned.

“I—err—you—err—I’ll get you, Gooder.” With that, he stormed out of my office.

“Once again, Jill.” Zac looked and sounded exasperated. “I can only apologise.”

***

After some persuasion, I’d managed to get Stuart Steele’s ex-girlfriend to agree to talk to me. Her name was Brie Lant. She answered the door dressed as though she was just on her way to a wedding or a posh restaurant, but I had a suspicion that she always dressed to impress. Her makeup was immaculate. She obviously spent a fortune at the hairdresser. Everything about her screamed money, and yet the apartment she lived in was quite a modest one, which didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of her image.

“Hi, I’m Jill Gooder, I called earlier?”

“Oh yah. Do come in.”

Oh yah
? Oh boy!

“You do realise I’m no longer seeing Stuart?”

“Yes, so I understand, but I still think you may be able to help. I’m investigating the murder of Starr Fish. You’ve probably heard about it in the news.”

“Wasn’t she in one of those ghastly reality TV shows?”

“Yes. She was found dead in Bar Fish, which as you probably know is Stuart’s Steele’s new venture.”

“And what an unmitigated disaster that’s been.” She moved towards the glass-fronted cabinet. “I’m having a glass of wine. Would you care for one?”

“Not for me thanks.”

She poured herself a large glass of rose, and took much more than a sip.

“How do you mean, disaster?”

“I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen. Who wants to sit in a bar surrounded by fish? The riff raff, that’s all. And
those
kind of people don’t have money to spend. Not
real
money.”

“
Those
kind of people?”

“You know the kind. Dirty finger nails and no dress sense.”

“You weren’t keen on the idea, then?”

“There are far better ways to spend money. He’d promised to move me into a new apartment, and to buy me a new car, but once he started on that crazy venture, that all went out of the window.”

“Had you and he been seeing each other for long?”

“Oh, yah—ages. At least two months.”

“What attracted you to him?”

“He was very generous. At first.”

“And good looking?”

“I suppose so.”

I was beginning to wonder if she’d even be able to pick him out in a line-up. Probably, provided he had his wallet in his hand.

“Why did you split up?”

“Because of the stupid Bar Fish venture, why do you think? We’d probably still be together if it wasn’t for that.”

“So, you’re saying you split up because of the money he was ploughing into Bar Fish?”

“He’d promised me an apartment, and a car.”

“Of course.”

“I told him, it was either Bar Fish or me.”

“I’m guessing he chose Bar Fish.”

“Yah, and he’s welcome to it.”

Brie Lant was a nasty piece of work; an unapologetic gold digger, but she had at least provided me with some useful information. According to Brie, Stuart had got in way too deep—that seemed to correspond with what the bar manager had told me, and might explain Stuart’s personality change.

Maybe I’d been looking at this case from the wrong angle altogether?

I had a hunch.

“Hello. Is that BeeLine motors?”

“That’s us, what can I do you for?”

“My name is Brie Lant. You collected my boyfriend’s car for repair the other day.”

“I doubt that.”

“I haven’t even told you his name yet.”

“You don’t need to. We don’t repair cars. We repossess them.”

“Repossess?”

“As in when someone doesn’t keep up their payments.”

“I think there must be a mistake.”

“There always is.”

“What if I was to pay the money owed?”

“You have ten days from the day the car is repossessed. Plus, there’s our charges on top to pay.”

“Sure. Can you tell me how much that will be?” I gave him Stuart’s name and address.

“Three thousand, two hundred and eighty-five pounds.”

“Is a credit card okay?”

“Sure.”

“Will it be possible to see the car first. Just to make sure it’s not damaged in any way?”

“Sure.”

“Can I look inside it?”

“Yes, someone will show you, but we can’t let you have the keys.”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t want people driving off before they’ve paid.”

“Of course. Okay, I’ll come right over.”

BeeLine Motors was essentially a massive car pound. There were cars of every type, size and colour as far as the eye could see. At the front of the pound was a small office where I had to wait in line. The man behind the counter looked terminally bored when I passed him Stuart Steele’s details.

“I’m his girlfriend.”

“You could be his long lost cousin for all I care. Provided you’ve got the money.”

“When I called earlier, you said I could see the car before I made the payment.”

“Ten minutes only.”

He pressed a buzzer, and moments later, a young man with a nose piercing, appeared from the back.

“Chops, take this lady down to G327.”

I followed the young man, down the lines of cars.

“Chops? Is that really your name?”

“Nah. It’s just what Bill calls me. He thinks it’s funny.”

“What
is
your name?”

“David.”

“David? I don’t get it.”

“David Lamb.”

“Lamb?” I laughed. “Lamb chops?”

He shot me a look.

“Sorry. Not funny.”

“Is this your car, love?”

“No, it’s my boyfriend’s.”

“You only get ten minutes.”

“That’s fine.”