“The app store isn’t actually a store. Well, it is a store, but—”
“It’s all too complicated. Could you do it for me, Jill?”
“I’m not all that great with phones myself.”
“How disappointing. I was so looking forward to trying it.”
“Don’t worry. I know someone who’s a whizz with phones. Can I hang onto this for a while?”
“Do you think your friend will be able to do it for me today?”
“That depends if there’s any salmon.”
“Sorry?”
“Err—I said it depends on Sam Dunn. That’s my friend. It depends how busy he is.”
“Okay, well please do your best. I’ve been really looking forward to this.”
Winky was rolling around the floor, in hysterics.
“What’s so funny?”
“Sam Dunn? How do you come up with this stuff?”
“You shouldn’t be tabby-hanging.”
“It’s hard not to when you’re shouting at the old bag lady.”
“You know Mrs V is hard of hearing.”
“Pardon?”
“I said—oh, very funny.”
“I take it you want me to install a wap on her phone?”
“Yes, please.”
“Tinder?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s something to do with knitting.”
“What’s it called?”
“I don’t remember. I suggested Grandma call it Copy Cat, but she didn’t like that name.”
“Whoa, back up. Why would you make such a slur?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You appear to be insinuating that cats have no originality. That they steal the ideas of others and claim them as their own.”
“Copycat? That’s just a saying. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then why not say copy dog?”
“That doesn’t alliterate.”
“Okay. Copy koala, then.”
“That begins with a ‘K’.”
“How about copy cobra? Those pesky snakes are notorious for their counterfeit activities.”
“Okay, if it makes you happy, I’ll say copy cobra from now on.”
“Good. So, what’s this app called?”
“I remember now. It’s called: See It. Make It. A stupid name if you ask me.”
“I think it’s a great name. I’m not sure you should be questioning your grandmother’s nous for marketing, given her track record compared to yours.”
Touché. “Will you install the app or not?”
“Depends how much Sam Dunn you had in mind.”
“You can have salmon today and tomorrow.”
“And all next week.”
“Okay, okay. Just install the stupid app.”
He did his thing, and less than a couple of minutes later, handed the phone back to me. “All done. There’s a shortcut on the home screen.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, while I remember. Do I get to travel to the wedding ceremony in the limousines with you guys?”
“Err—sorry, but there’s no room. You’re going to have to make your own way there.”
“Fair enough. Where’s the wedding taking place?”
There was no way I could allow Winky to walk down the aisle as my pagecat. If I did, I’d be a laughing stock. This might be my only chance to do something about it without hurting his feelings. If I gave him the name of the wrong hotel, by the time he realised, it would be too late, and the ceremony would be over. Was I a genius or what?
I wasn’t asking for your opinion. Don’t you recognise a rhetorical question when you hear one? Right there—that was another one.
“It’s at the Washbridge Hotel at two o’clock.”
“Got it. I’ll be there.”
Snigger.
Back in the outer office, I handed Mrs V her phone.
“All done. The app is installed. Look, it’s there on the home screen.”
“I thought you said you’d have to get your friend, Sam Dunn, to install it?”
“I—err managed to do it myself.”
“Thank you. Do you think you could show me how it works?”
Just then, my phone rang; Jack had managed to arrange for me to visit Chris Jardine in prison.
***
Chris was being held on remand at Longdale Prison, which was a thirty-mile drive from Washbridge. Although I didn’t relish the thought of visiting the prison, it did at least give me an excuse to leave Mrs V to try to sort out her new app by herself.
“Is it true about Sarah and Bill?” Were the first words out of Chris Jardine’s mouth.
“Mr Jardine, this is Jill Gooder,” the solicitor said. “I believe you’re expecting her.”
“Yes, sorry.” Chris slumped onto the metal chair. “You’re Jack’s wife, aren’t you?”
“No, yes, well almost. We’re getting married next week.”
“Was Sarah really having an affair with Bill?”
“I’m afraid so.” I nodded. “She told me so herself.”
At that, he broke down in tears. I’d never been comfortable around people when they cried, and for some reason, it seemed even worse when it was a man.
“I realise this is hard for you, Chris.” I passed him a tissue. “But, if I’m going to help you, I’ll need to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Bill, and the events of Tuesday night.”
“Sorry.” He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. “This has all come as such a shock. I thought Sarah and I were solid. And I thought Bill was a friend.”
“Had you noticed any change in your wife’s behaviour recently?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Can you talk me through what happened on Tuesday night?”
“It was a great night. At least, I thought so at the time. Jack and I beat Bill and Graham for the first time. Jack must have told you about it.”
“He did, but I’d still like to hear it from you.”
“Graham had to leave a couple of frames before the end, but we already had it sewn up at that point.”
“Do you know why he had to leave?”
“He got a phone call to say his brother had been taken into hospital, I think.”
“What happened after the match was over?”
“After Jack left, Bill and I had a cigarette in the car park as usual. Then Bill left, and that was the last time I saw him.”
“Did you give Bill the cigarette?”
“Yes. He never had any of his own because he was supposed to have given them up.”
“And you smoked a cigarette from the same packet?”
“That’s right. I know the police reckon I put poison on Bill’s cigarette, but that’s rubbish. I had no reason to kill him because I had no idea that he was seeing Sarah.”
“How did Bill seem when he left you?”
“Okay. As soon as we’d finished our cigarettes, we said goodnight and went our separate ways.”
***
I’d promised to try to identify Fluff, but I was going to need some help. It occurred to me that Mr Shuttlebug’s widow might still have his unpublished manuscript, so I gave her a call.
“You’ve reached the Shuttlebug residence. Deloris Shuttlebug speaking. I’m unable to take your call because I’m away from home for a few days. I will be back on Tuesday.”
Disappointing, but I’d just have to try again then. That wouldn’t leave long until the deadline for identifying the strange little creature, but I had no other bright ideas.
Mrs V and I were due to attend the grand opening of The Sea’s The Limit, so I called into the office to collect her on the way past.
“I’ve got it working, Jill.” She looked very pleased with herself about something.
“Got what working?”
“The wap. It’s very straightforward.”
“Good. Come on. We’d better get a move on.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s the grand opening of The Sea’s The Limit. Had you forgotten?”
“I’m afraid I had. It’s all the excitement of my new phone. Shall I bring it with me?”
“If you like.”
“I think I will. I may see a nice jumper while we’re out.”
“You’re late, Jill.” Betty was standing by the entrance to The Sea’s The Limit.
“Sorry, I lost track of time.”
“All of the best seats have already gone, I’m afraid. There are just a few left on the back row.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“Follow me.” She led the way inside. “We’ve managed to get Finn Waters to do the honours.”
“Who?”
“You must have heard of him. Finn does all those marine life documentaries.” She pointed to the few empty seats at the back of the large room, which contained two enormous tanks. “You’ll have to sit over there.”