All Was Revealed (12 page)

“No problem. I’ll have a word with her.”

“Thanks, Jill. You’re a good friend.”

***

It was time to talk to Harlan the elf. I’d got his address from Billy Somemates. Harlan lived very close to Candlefield swimming baths—somewhere I hadn’t yet got around to visiting. I hadn’t told Billy of my suspicions because I thought it only fair to talk to Harlan first.

When I knocked on the tiny door, a little elf in a very pleasing green hat, popped his head out. “Hello, can I help you?” he squeaked.

“Are you Harlan?”

“Yes, who are you? If you’re selling, you’re wasting your time. I never buy at the door.”

“I’m not selling anything.”

“Are you sure? That’s what the man who sold me the chimney brush said.”

“Your house doesn’t have a chimney.”

“I know. He was very persuasive.”

“I promise I’m not here to sell you anything. My name is Jill Gooder. I’ve been talking to the people at FairyAid, and also to Billy Somemates.”

“I see.”

“Billy told me you work part-time for him.”

“That’s right.”

“Look, I’ll get straight to the point. I understand that you’re responsible for buying the thimbles from The Finger.”

His face fell, and I knew I’d struck a chord. “Yes I am. What of it?”

“I was told by Tuppence Farthing, the owner of The Finger, that several house-themed thimbles have been stolen from her shop over the past few weeks. And yet, Billy told me that he gives you the money to buy them.”

“Oh dear. You’re perfectly right. I’ve been taking them.”

“But why would you do that?”

“I didn’t keep the money for myself. I thought if I didn’t have to pay for the thimbles that I’d be able to donate it back to FairyAid, and they’d be able to build even more houses.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve been stealing the thimbles, and then donating the money, which should have been used to buy them, to FairyAid?”

“That’s right. I shouldn’t have done that, should I?”

“Definitely not. Look, I’m sorry, but I have no choice but to tell Tuppence Farthing what’s been going on. It might help if you were to come with me. Would you be willing to do that?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “I suppose I’d better.”

We walked together to The Finger. Tuppence Farthing was behind the counter; she greeted me with a warm smile.

“Hi, Jill.”

“There’s someone here who’d like a few words with you, Tuppence.”

Only then did she notice Harlan who barely came up to my calf.

“This is Harlan.”

“Pleased to meet you, Harlan.”

He jumped up onto the counter, so they were face to face. “I—err—I have a confession to make. I was tasked with buying thimbles for Billy Somemates who makes the houses for the starlight fairies. But, instead of buying them I sneaked into your shop, and took them without paying.”

Tuppence looked shocked. “Why would you do that?”

“I realise it’s no excuse, but I wanted as many houses as possible for the fairies, so I gave the money back to FairyAid. I’m very sorry, and I’ll understand if you want to call the police. I’ll be happy to make a full confession.”

“There’s no need to involve the police. I just wish you’d spoken to me. I had no idea that’s what the thimbles were being used for. How about from now on, I sell you the thimbles at cost price? When you need the next batch, come and see me, and I’ll make sure you get the best deal. You’ll get twice as many as you would if you were buying them at full price. How does that sound?”

“Thank you. That’s so very generous,” Harlan said. “And of course, I’ll pay you back for those that I’ve already taken.”

“No need. Call those my donation to FairyAid.”

“Thank you so much.” Harlan was obviously touched by Tuppence’s kindness.

“And thank you for getting to the bottom of this, Jill.” Tuppence said. “It never occurred to me that it would be something like this.”

“My pleasure. I’m just pleased this means that the fairies will get more houses.”

Chapter 13

The next person on my list to interview, in connection with the Starr Fish case, was her new boyfriend—a guy who went by the name of Scott Venus. Call it intuition if you like, but something told me that wasn’t his real name. Like Starr Fish, he’d probably decided that his real name wasn’t showbiz enough, so he’d changed it to something completely and utterly ludicrous.

Scott lived in what was known locally as the Glass Tower. It was the largest of three apartment blocks built three years ago in the centre of Washbridge. They were ultra-expensive—way above my pay grade. It was my first time inside the building; it was gorgeous. Why didn’t I live somewhere like that? It probably had something to do with my lack of work. And money. Maybe I should have considered going on a reality TV show. If Kathy could do it, surely I could. I quite liked the idea of having people chase after me for autographs. Maybe I could charge for those too. Jack and I would be on the front page of all those celebrity magazines.

What? Who are you calling Walter?

Scott Venus lived in apartment two-one-seven.

“Who are you?” He didn’t look much like a Scott. More a Fred or an Arthur.

“My name’s Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator.”

“What do you want?”

Nice to know his Z-list celebrity status hadn’t affected his good manners.

“I’d like a few words about Starr Fish.”

“What about her?”

“Do you think we could go inside rather than talk out here where everyone can hear us.”

“I suppose so.” He huffed.

The furnishings were high quality, and matched the building itself, but the place was a dump. There was ‘stuff’ everywhere. What was it with men? Did
any
of them have the ‘tidy’ gene?

“What do you want to know?” He took a bite of what looked like yesterday’s pizza. “Want some?” He offered me the box.

“No, thanks.” I’m good for salmonella.

“I believe you and Starr were an item?”

“Not really.” A small piece of pizza fell onto the carpet. At least the mice wouldn’t go hungry.

“I thought you lived together?”

“Yeah, but we had separate rooms.”

“So you weren’t in a relationship with Starr?”

“Nah.” He took a slug from a huge bottle of flat Coke. “That was just for publicity.”

“How do you mean?”

“Our manager said the tabloids would pay more attention to a reality TV ‘couple’. He reckoned they’d be falling over themselves to run stories on us.”

“How did that work out?”

“It didn’t. They only cared about Starr. When we were together they were only ever interested in her. I might as well have been invisible.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“How do you think? I wasn’t happy about it. I was trying to raise my profile, so I could get more money for doing personal appearances, and to help sell more copies of my book.”

“What book?”

“My autobiography, of course.”

“Of course. Have you already written it?”

“
I’m
not writing it. Some toast-writer is doing that.”

“Ghost.”

“What?

“It’s a
ghost
-writer not a
toast
-writer.”

“Oh? That makes more sense. I never did get the whole toast thing.”

Wow! Just wow!

“Did you and Starr argue a lot?”

“Not all that much, but then I didn’t really see much of her. She was always going down to London to do an interview or to have her photograph taken. I think she was planning to move down there.”

“Did you go out as a couple?”

“We went to parties and premieres, and stuff like that together, but it was only for the cameras; we didn’t have anything in common.”

“It must have made you angry that she was getting all the attention?”

“Of course it did.” He hesitated between mouthfuls of pizza. “Hang on, though. That doesn’t mean I wanted to hurt her if that’s what you’re thinking. I could never do something like that. My mum would kill me.”

I came away with the impression that Scott was obviously jealous and frustrated that Starr had attracted much more media attention than he’d managed. Even so, I couldn’t convince myself that he had it in him to kill her. Underneath his celebrity ‘front’, Scott Venus was still a ‘mummy’s boy’.

Back in the office, I searched online for images of the ‘celebrity’ couple. The majority of photos focussed more on Starr than on Scott. It was quite obvious that there was no magic or sparkle between them; they looked like two strangers standing next to one another. But it was something else which caught my eye. There was another familiar face, in the background in several of the photos. It was Starr’s ex-boyfriend, Johnny Badger. When I’d spoken to him he’d told me that he’d moved on, and was no longer interested in Starr, but these photos appeared to tell a different story.

***

Mrs V came through to my office.

“What’s
he
up to now?” She gestured to Winky who had just finished sending semaphore messages to Bella.

“He’s looking out of the window.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Winky turned around, and gave her a one-eyed glare.

“See the way he looks at me? It’s like he hates me.”

“She’s got that much right,” Winky said under his breath.

“I’m sure that’s not true. It’s that eye of his which makes him look mean.”

Mrs V looked unconvinced—with good reason.

“Was there something you wanted, Mrs V?”

“Oh yes. I almost forgot. That friend of yours is out front. The librarian.”

“Mad? Send her in, would you?”

“It’s none of my business.” Mrs V lowered her voice to a whisper. “But I think she’s let herself go a little. Maybe you should have a word?”

“How do you mean, ‘
let herself go’
?”

“You’ll see.”

Mrs V showed Mad in, and then left us alone.

“Hey, Jill.” Mad seemed bright enough.

“Grab a seat. You’ve got Mrs V a little worried.”

“Me? Why?”

“She thinks you’re letting yourself go.”

“That’s nice.” Mad grinned. “It must be the hair.”

Normally when Mad was at work, she wore her hair in a bun, but today she’d let it down.

“It does look a little wild.”

“I know. That bun drives me crazy. It makes my head itch like I’ve got lice. Come to think of it, now that Nails has moved in with Mum, I might have.”

“Don’t.” I suddenly felt the urge to scratch my head.

“Tell Mrs V she doesn’t have to worry about me. It’ll be in a bun again when I go back to work after my lunch hour and a half.”

“You get an hour and a half?”

“Officially no, but no one seems to notice.”

“How’s the ghost hunting going?”

“It’s a bit quiet at the moment. I need some excitement. Maybe we should have another night out?”

“No chance. I haven’t recovered from the last one yet. But I do have something which might ease the boredom for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you remember that friend of mine, the colonel?”

“Of course I do. Didn’t he tip you off about that ugly thug who wanted to kill you? What was his name again? Carburettor?”

“Battery. Yeah, that was the colonel. He came to see me the other day because he has a bit of a problem. He’s recently moved back into his old house; the one he lived in before he died. He’s living there with his new girlfriend, Priscilla. It seems that everything was going okay until another ghost turned up out of the blue. According to the colonel, this new ghost has no connection to the house. He just seems to be squatting there. What’s even worse is that he’s coming on to Priscilla. As you might imagine, the colonel is none too happy about any of this.”

“This squatter—are you saying he didn’t live in that house when he was alive? And has no relatives there?”

“That’s right.”

“And he wasn’t invited by the colonel?”

“Definitely not.”

“In that case, he’s basically trespassing. There are strict rules which determine where a ghost can live—in other words, where he can haunt. He can try to attach himself to anyone, but unless he was known to that person, the connection is unlikely to succeed. Do you happen to know the ghost’s name?”

“It’s Matthew Most.”

“Okay, I’ll look into it, and let you know what I find out.”

“Thanks, Mad, you’re a good friend.”

“Hmm? Let’s see if you still think so in a couple of minutes’ time.”

Oh dear, I didn’t like the sound of that one little bit.

“What do you mean?”

“The reason I’m here is to invite you over for dinner.”

“At your place?”

“Yeah. My mother said that she wanted to show her gratitude for the way you helped me when I was charged with Anita Pick’s murder.”

“There’s really no need. You’re a friend. I was glad I could help.”

“That’s what I told her, but she insists that you come over for a meal at our place.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

What had I just let myself in for?

***

I’d been trying for ages to secure an interview with Starr Fish’s manager—a man named Charlie Taylor, or apparently, Chaz to his friends. Whether he’d been avoiding me or had genuinely been busy, I had no way of knowing. Eventually though, my persistence paid off, and he agreed to meet me at his offices.

“Hello,” the fresh faced young man behind reception said.

“Hi.”

“How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mr Charlie Taylor.”

“You mean Chaz. And who are you?”

“My name’s Jill Gooder. I’m—”

“Oh, yes. Gooder. Chaz is expecting you. You can go through now. It’s that door on the right.”

“Thanks.”

Chaz Taylor should have been prosecuted for his taste in shirts: Dolphins, lighthouses and mermaids? A blue cravat was the finishing touch.

“I don’t have long,” he greeted me.

Obviously not long enough to give due consideration to his wardrobe.

“That’s all right, Mr Taylor. I know you’re a busy man. I like your shirt.”

“Thanks. It’s one of my favourites. Call me Chaz. Everybody calls me Chaz.”

Flattery did it every time.

“Okay Chaz. This shouldn’t take very long. I wanted to ask you a few questions about Starr Fish.”

“How come you’re involved? Aren’t the police handling this?”

“Yes, of course, but I often work alongside them.” Whether they know it or not.

“I thought at one point they were going to arrest me.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I was one of the last people to see Starr alive.”

“What can you tell me about that meeting?”

“There’s not much to tell. Starr was her usual obnoxious self. We ended up in a shouting match. She told me to butt out of her business, and her life.”

“But weren’t you her manager?”

“In theory, yes. In practice, debatable.”

“How do you mean?”

“I made it my business to sign up the contestants who were going into Life at the Top before the show started.”

“Did they
all
sign up?”

“Of course they did. They couldn’t wait to be famous.”

“What went wrong between you and Starr?”

“The stroppy little cow accused me of trying to rip her off.”

“In what way?”

“You would have to ask her.”

“I can hardly do that now, can I. You must know why she wasn’t happy?”

“Someone turned her head.”

“What do you mean, ‘turned her head’?”

“I mean what I say. Joey told her that I was ripping her off, and that the contract wasn’t even legal. He promised her the earth if she’d sign with him.”

“Who’s Joey?”

“Joey Buttons. He’s the bane of my life. He’s a manager too, but he wants it handed to him on a plate. Instead of finding new stars, and nurturing them like I do, he waits until they’ve already made the headlines, then jumps in and tries to steal them away.”

“And that’s what happened with Starr?”

“Yes, as soon as she won the competition, and began to make all the headlines, Joey turned up.”

“But, surely she was under contract to you.”

“Of course she was, but that doesn’t count for much these days. Those fancy lawyers can get almost any contract declared null and void. Joey knew I didn’t have deep enough pockets to fight it in court, even if I did think I’d win.”