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Authors: Maureen Reynolds

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BOOK: McQueen's Agency
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Mary was on the phone when she arrived, looking slightly panic-stricken. She held up her hand as if to tell Molly to stay silent.

‘Yes Mr Archibald, we will send one of our secretaries to see you tomorrow. What is the address, please?’

She scribbled something down on the message pad. When she put the phone down, she said, ‘That was the same man. He said he had heard good reports about a Mrs McGill and was it possible to send her.’

Molly looked at the message pad and saw the address was in Union Street. ‘Don’t mention a word about this to Edna. I’ll go tomorrow and see who this joker is.’

Mary’s face was a picture. ‘Oh you will be careful, won’t you? He might be a murderer or he might have escaped from some asylum.’

Molly laughed. ‘You read too many detective books, Mary.’

But Mary still didn’t look happy.

‘By the way, Mary, I tackled the men who were in the boat with your friend. Their names are Joe and Mike. Joe said Rita was on board but Mike, the one you’ve met at the dancing, was the one who threatened her. Luckily for her, Joe got him to turn the boat around and she landed safely, but if you get the chance to talk to her, tell her he’s dangerous and to stay away from him.’

Mary said she still hadn’t seen Rita but when she did, she would let her know.

Molly couldn’t sleep that night. Her mind was going round in circles. She was worried about the future of the agency and the welfare of Edna. She would have to go and see her and try to get to the bottom of all this mystery.

If these hoax phone calls kept coming in then there was no way she could send Edna out and if no other work came in then what? She didn’t want to think about that.

She was also hoping to finish at Cliff Top House. Ever since Nelly had announced the engagement, the atmosphere had been difficult. Lena looked terrible, Kenneth hardly spoke or smiled these days and as for Joe and Mike … they remained their usual surly selves. Then there was Christie; another mystery man.

Molly must have fallen asleep around five o’clock and when the alarm went off, she didn’t want to get up. Then she remembered her assignment for the day; the meeting with the possible hoaxer. Although she had scoffed at Mary’s suggestion that he could be dangerous, Molly still felt uneasy.

The ferry trip across the river didn’t help. It was a cold day with heavy rain and a sharp wind. More like autumn than summer.

She had one amusing thought as the ferry battled its way across the stormy river. Her hand closed around the small box of pepper she had put in her coat pocket. She suddenly wanted to burst out laughing at the melodrama of this precaution.

Heavens, she thought, it’s as if I’m in an old spy picture like
The Third Man
. The only thing missing was the haunting zither music.

Molly reached Union Street a good ten minutes before the appointment. The address was a shabby looking close with a couple of grubby brass plates at the entrance. The writing on both was so faded it was difficult to make out the writing.

She stood across the road at Henderson’s jewellery shop and viewed the windows above the close, trying to look as if she was looking at the jewellery. Every so often she looked at her watch as if she was waiting for someone.

The windows across the road were as neglected as the entrance. Net curtains that had once been white now had a yellow tinge and the windows looked as if they could do with a good wash.

Suddenly one of the curtains moved and the shape of a man filled the window frame. Molly couldn’t get a clear look at him because he stood behind the curtain. It was just an indistinct image she had. She looked at her watch again and it said nine o’clock. It was time to go.

She crossed the road and climbed the stairs, which hadn’t seen a brush in a long time and were decorated with balls of fluff and discarded litter.

She reached the door and knocked. There was no answer. She knocked louder and called out, ‘McQueen’s Agency.’

All was quiet but she felt something wasn’t right. She tried the door handle and the door opened. She called out again, ‘I’m from McQueen’s Agency.’ Her hand held on firmly to the pepper pot.

She had taken a dozen steps inside when the door suddenly slammed shut and she heard the sound of feet pounding down the stairs. Running over to the window, she caught a glimpse of a man sprinting down the street. He didn’t look back so she didn’t see his face.

Molly realised she was in a strange room with a possibly locked door, but when she tried the handle, it opened. She looked around the room but it was unfurnished. It must have been an office at one time because a few wastebaskets lay in the corner and there was a scratched, grey filing cabinet in the other corner.

Hurrying out, she ran down the stairs into the wet street. The man was long gone so Molly headed for the office. She would have to see Edna this morning to try and get some sort of explanation. This man was obviously following her and she needed help.

Molly suddenly remembered the policeman who had questioned her last week and she wondered if he could help Edna. Should she suggest it? She wasn’t sure if Edna would want the police poking into her affairs.

Charlie had come to the end of his enquiries and there was nowhere else he could go to get to the truth about Harry’s death. He knew Tam was adamant that Harry had been murdered but there was no proof and Charlie would have to tell him that.

Tam was listening to the wireless when Mrs Kidd arrived with his tea. She was wearing her beige waterproof coat with the hood.

‘What a day it is with all this wind and rain. I got soaked at the shops.’

Tam said, ‘You’re not to go out in bad weather just for my messages.’

Mrs Kidd laughed. ‘Oh, I’ve got to get Jock’s tea as well so it’s no a problem. I’ve got three bridies out of Wallace’s in Castle Street so I’ll heat them up. Do you want me to open a wee tin of beans with your bridie, Tam?’

Tam said no, the bridie would be fine on its own. He moved to the cupboard to get a tin of dog food out for Rover and filled his dish up.

As Mrs Kidd brought out the bridie from the oven she said, ‘You’ll have to save up and get one of the televisions that are on sale. Folk are saying it was great watching the Queen’s coronation on it. It would be great company for you, Tam, especially as you live on your own.’

Tam said he would think about it but at that moment, television was the last thing on his mind. He was trying to visualise the scene from the other day when Rover had gone wild. He could remember a lot of people but no one in particular stood out. Still, that was the worst thing about criminals. They looked normal like everyone else and didn’t look like Hitler or Mussolini, or like a deranged killer.

Tam had never locked his door before being attacked. He had nothing to steal and his neighbours all looked out for one another but since that first attack he had locked the door every night. On this night of inhospitable weather, he turned the big key in the lock before going to bed and also pushed the big bolt in place. A bolt he had got from Jock who had fixed it in place.

The figure moved quickly towards the house, glad that the bad weather had kept most people indoors. Thankfully it was quite dark as they moved to Tam’s close and climbed the stairs. Some of the houses still had lights in their windows so the figure waited in the tiny outside toilet, which lay on the curve of the stair.

Their watch said eleven thirty. Common sense told them to leave well alone and not go near this old man again but it was now a personal thing. That dog had given the individual a nasty bite and now it was time for revenge. Gaining entry would be easy. No one in these tenements ever locked their doors.

It was stormy outside and Tam didn’t sleep well because of the rain beating down on the window. About eleven o’clock the wind died down and the rain stopped. He got up and looked out. The sky had cleared and a moon appeared between dark scudding clouds.

He went back to bed and must have fallen asleep at once. He was woken by the sound of someone trying the door.

‘Is that you, Jock?’ he called out. Someone pushed hard against the door and Rover started to bark loudly. He ran to the door and began to scratch at the base of the door as if trying to get out.

Tam was frightened but he called out again, ‘Who’s there?’

Meanwhile Rover’s barks became even louder and Tam tried to stop him. ‘Be quiet, Rover.’

Rover moved back to his basket but continued to growl loudly. Tam got up and moved to the window. He opened it and leant out. A dark cloud had covered the moon but he caught a glimpse of a figure running down the road towards Dock Street.

Molly arrived at the office and Mary looked relieved. ‘Did anyone turn up?’ she asked. Molly nodded. ‘I have to go and see Edna but I’ll not be long.’

But she was just picking up her handbag when Edna arrived. She looked surprised when she saw Molly.

‘I thought I would come in and see if there was anything for me,’ she said hesitantly.

Molly asked Mary to make some tea and bring it down into the office. Mary did as she was told but she looked disappointed at being asked. Molly reckoned that this would be the quickest pot of tea on record.

Molly decided the best way was to tell Edna all about this morning. As she related the incident, Edna’s face turned white.

‘Mary recognised the man’s voice so that’s why I went. You’re in danger, Edna, and I think you should go to the police. I know someone I could put you in touch with.’

‘I think I should hand my notice in, Molly. You have enough work running this place.’

‘Nonsense, Edna. I don’t want you to leave but what’s going on?’

Mary arrived back and looked at the two women with undisguised interest.

‘I can’t tell you at the moment,’ said Edna, ‘But I know the man and want to meet him face-to-face. I can’t live like this. I don’t want the police coming round.’

Molly had worked it out. ‘What I’ll do is this. I’ll send Mary out on the jobs and you can stay working in the office, just until this is sorted out, or until I’m sure the job is genuine.’

Edna said that would be fine while Mary beamed at the thought of going out on assignments.

‘Take today and tomorrow off, Edna, and we’ll sort something out for next week.’

As she watched her walking up the Wellgate, Molly wondered about the other weeks. How long would this last?’

She was about to leave to go home when the phone rang. Mary answered it while Molly held her breath. Mary wrote down all the details and said that someone would be there on Monday morning.

When she put the phone down, she said, ‘That was Albert’s Stores asking if Edna could do another two weeks. The clerk is off work again.’

‘Do you think it was that man’s voice, Mary?’

Mary said no.

‘Well I’m going to check it out to see if the grocer did ring and make sure that Edna will be safe with that job. At least there’s all the staff and customers to watch over her there.’

Mary looked disappointed. She realised that Edna wouldn’t be manning the phone if the job turned out to be genuine.

Molly noticed this and said, ‘Never mind, Mary. In a few months time I’m thinking of hiring another school leaver and you can join the outside jobs. After all, you were very clever at recognising that the man’s voice was the same as the hoax caller.’

This pleased Mary and she felt an important part of the business.

Molly caught the tramcar and was soon at Albert’s Stores on Arbroath Road. There was just the one customer and she waited until the cheery looking man behind the counter served her.

She introduced herself and said she had got the call about a replacement for his sick clerk.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I’d like Edna back if that’s possible. She’s a great worker and good with the customers and my assistant,’ he pointed to a slim young man with red hair, working at the far end of the shop, ‘especially Eddie,’ he said with a wink. ‘My clerk Nancy is a proper wee hypochondriac. Now she’s got a cold and tells me she can’t count properly because of her headaches. Quite honestly she can’t count without a headache but that’s just my opinion. In fact, I would sack her but she’s my niece and my brother would kill me if his precious daughter was on the dole.’ He laughed loudly and Eddie looked at him.

Molly came away feeling better about this turn of events. Edna would be able to work and surely the mysterious man wouldn’t be able to accost her in this very public environment.

25

It was a Sunday and Marigold had invited Molly and Peggy for afternoon tea. It was a lovely sunny day and she set the table, which was situated by the large bay window overlooking the garden. She had spread the fine old embroidered cloth on the table and set out the best rose-patterned china tea set.

Marigold belonged to the old school that believed in the niceties and the good manners of a bygone age. She had made a sultana cake and scones with homemade jam, plus dainty tomato sandwiches.

Molly arrived first but Peggy was just a minute or two behind her. Peggy was used to these afternoon teas with all the gracious trimmings but Molly was taken aback, although secretly delighted by all the preparation her neighbour had gone to.

Molly smiled as she viewed the two ladies. They came from another age when manners and customs were more leisurely. Marigold never even went to the local shops without her hat and white gloves. Sabby was lying in a shady spot of the garden and she never gave Molly a glance when she passed.

Marigold saw this and muttered. ‘That is one Prima Donna cat. I was telling Peggy that you work at Cliff Top House, Molly,’ she said.

Peggy said she remembered it when it was called Tayport Farm and was owned by old Mr Abbot. ‘People called Lamont have it now, Molly.’

Peggy said, ‘Old Mr Abbot had a daughter who was a bit wild. She ran off and got married when she was seventeen and I recall she had a child but I can’t remember if it was a boy or a girl. She came to visit her father on her own in about 1925 and she said the child was around ten years old if I remember it right. There was a rumour going around at the time that she had remarried and was going to live abroad but whether that was true I don’t know. How old is this Joe Lamont, Molly?’

BOOK: McQueen's Agency
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