I was eating toast at the flower-laden kitchen table when my phone burbled its warning signal of an incoming video call from Gran. Ever since her hip American friends introduced her to the concept, she’s embraced it with gusto – but never manages to remember the time difference between Florida and Britain.
Stuffing down my last piece of crust, I answered the call, and there she was, tanned, fit, and looking at least a decade younger than her seventy-eight years with short, spiky hair and a pale blue shirt.
“Gran, hey, how are you? You look great.” I braced myself to give the news of Jeff’s departure while I listened to the talk of her walking club, the ten-pin bowling league and the salsa classes. I felt tired just hearing about it. Finally, she wound down and asked what I had been doing. She never mentioned Jeff by name; if she did ask about him, she always referred to him as ‘that husband of yours’. But she usually didn’t ask.
“I’ve had a bit of a week,” I said. “Jeff has left me for another woman.”
“What?” Gran’s neatly-pencilled eyebrows rose to meet her choppy fringe – or, ‘bangs’, as she insisted on calling it. “He’s left you?”
“He’s got someone else; she’s a lot younger. I’ve been trying to find him.”
“You don’t want him back, do you?”
I reined in my initial response – Gran disapproves of swearing – and managed to stay calm. “No. I want a divorce.”
“Have you got a good lawyer? My friend Herman is excellent. Of course, he’s retired now, well, disbarred if I’m being pedantic, and his hearing’s not great, but I could ask him for advice.”
“Isn’t he the one being sued by the circus?”
“He never tried to steal that lion. They should have made sure the cage was closed properly.”
“You said it climbed onto the back seat of his car, and he drove away without noticing.”
“A mistake anyone could make.”
“Then he gave two neighbours a lift.”
“Mrs Alvirez got in the back and thought he had a dog with him. Well, her eyesight’s not what it was.” Gran sighed. “We still visit her every Tuesday.”
“How’s she doing?”
“The doctors say she’s recovered physically, but she still has a phobia about dogs. And cats. And she’s wary of fur rugs, too.” Gran brightened. “The lion was moved to a safari park, and Herman visits every fortnight and takes him chicken wings.”
“Great,” I said. “Thanks, but I have a solicitor here who will help me, so I won’t need Herman. Plus, I’ve got a job interview this morning.”
Gran listened, rapt, to my week and the upcoming detective situation. Then she grinned.
“That is so you, Marnie – the old you – before that husband of yours came on the scene. My love, I’m glad he’s gone, and I’ve missed you. It’s so good to have you back.”
Tears welled up behind my eyes. “Thanks,” I managed to say, and then I heard a female voice in the background, calling Gran’s name. “You off out?”
“That’s Jolene. We’re going to the mall to buy her a gun. Good luck with the interview. Let me know how you get on.”
“Hang on, Gran.” I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. “It must be well after midnight. You’re going shopping?”
“It’s a 24-hour place, and I had a nap earlier. We might drop into a friend’s party on the way home.”
She blew me a kiss and ended the call.
I sat for a few moments pondering the fact that my septuagenarian grandmother had a wilder social life than I was ever likely to have, and then I ate my breakfast. After finishing and washing up, Elvis wandered out of the kitchen and went upstairs, so I took my chance and headed outside with the birdseed. “Hey, guys,” I said to the gangland pigeons on the roof. “Are you okay? Did Elvis frighten you off? He’s not here, and it’s safe.”
“I beg your pardon?” Mr Simpkins popped up from behind the garden wall like a regimental jack-in-the-box, trowel and mini fork held aloft. He looked around. “Who are you speaking to?”
“The Kray – er, the pigeons. They’ve been quiet since Elvis arrived.”
My neighbour nodded and said something I couldn’t believe I’d heard. “I’m sorry?” I stepped closer. “What did you say?”
“I said he’s shut the flock up.”
“Oh. Oh, right, yes, I see.” I backed away again. Then I scattered the seed around the lawn and dived indoors. Elvis came thundering down the stairs convinced he was missing something exciting, and together we entered the living room where I flopped onto the settee and burst out laughing. “You had to be there,” I told him, but he didn’t look convinced.
Then I roused myself again, went upstairs and found a decent pair of jeans and a paisley patterned shirt. I brushed my hair and slapped on some foundation and mascara.
I was ready for TP Investigations.
I shrugged into a blue cotton jacket and checked my bag. “Treats, leash, poo bags, phone, keys. Sorted.”
We set off for Lufton and the interview that could set my life on a bold new path. I sang loudly until Elvis booped me from the back seat, and then I concentrated on finding a parking space near Emma and Ian’s offices.
Turnbull Solicitors sits sandwiched between a travel agency and a shoe shop on the quieter end of the main street. Elvis dragged me through the door to the reception desk, where Loren – a pleasant young woman with an immaculate blonde pony-tail - greeted me by name, smiled and pressed a buzzer.
Emma appeared with Bertie in tow. “Alf’s here. Come on through.”
Elvis and I followed her down a corridor and entered a large, airy room with high corniced ceilings and tall windows overlooking a garden. There was a dark wooden desk on one side of the room, and a group of armchairs and a coffee table in the other half. Emma gestured to the seating area, Ian and another man rose to their feet, and I got my first sight of Alf Langley.
If I hadn’t known he was a detective, I would have guessed his profession as ‘game show host from the 1970s’. He was in his fifties, tall and slim with salt and pepper hair sweeping up from his forehead into a bouffant. His suit had wide lapels and more than a hint of man-made fibres, and his tie was a paisley pattern by Francis Bacon.
I stepped forward, shook his hand, and then found my voice and said, “Hello, Mr Langley, lovely to meet you.”
He said, “Likewise, Mrs Hope, " a full three seconds later.
“Oh, please, call me Marnie.”
Another pause and then, “Alf.”
“Sit down, Marnie,” Emma said, and I chose the armchair next to the detective. “Coffee?”
“Thanks.” I held Elvis back as she poured tea and coffee and offered biscuits, and Bertie settled beneath the coffee table. Elvis lay down and sniffed Alf’s boots: they were brown and shiny with a Cuban heel. I tore my gaze away and sipped my drink.
“Emma tells me you’ve been trying to find your husband,” Alf said after eating two biscuits and drinking half a cup of tea.
“Yes.” I set my coffee down, took a deep breath, and told him about Jeff’s disappearance, the non-existent job, his deluded girlfriend and the subterfuge used to steal his passport. “His parents have disowned him, and, quite frankly, I don’t blame them.”
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“Collect his contact details, anything you can find.” Alf finished his tea, and Ian poured him another cup. He picked up a third biscuit. “Full name, date and place of birth, address, car registration, any credit cards he may have.”
I stared at him. “Er, right.”
“Bring them over tomorrow. Noreen will have your contract drawn up by then.”
“My…?” Excitement welled up inside me. “You mean, I’ve got the job?”
“You’ve got the job.”
I almost bounced in the chair. “Can I bring Elvis?”
This time, the pause stretched while Alf and Elvis studied each other. Elvis whined, and Alf nodded. “He’ll do. A dog can help calm witnesses, that kind of thing.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Emma hide a grin. “Yes,” I said. “He’ll be a great asset. Thank you so much, Alf.”
“It’s Edmond Drive. Number six. Come about half-ten.” Alf went on to tell me the job was ad-hoc, with no set hours, and I should keep detailed notes and claim expenses. The hourly rate was twenty quid. Then he ate the last biscuit, drained his tea and left.
Emma saw me to the door. “I’m off this afternoon. Fancy a coffee?”
“Tell you what – I’ll take you, Bertie and Sue to the café. My treat. To celebrate my new job.”
“It’s a deal.”
Elvis and I left the building and walked back to the car, and I realised I’d parked close to the side street with Lufton Tailors. I’d no sooner put Elvis into the back of the Golf when my phone rang, and I stared at the screen in disbelief. Had he read my mind?
“Bugger off, Tim.” I rejected the call and got behind the wheel. My phone rang again. Once more, I refused the call, and then I started the car and drove away. After two more calls from the actor, I swerved to the kerb, grabbed my phone, scrolled through settings and blocked Tim’s number.
When we got back to Dexter Bay, I phoned Sue and told her the good news.
“Excellent, I knew you’d do it. What’s Alf like?”
“Coiffured hair, shiny suit, cowboy boots.”
“Sounds like your kind of guy.”
“I’m taking you, Emma and Bertie to the café for celebratory coffee and cake. Come down about half-two.”
I said goodbye to Sue, texted Emma these instructions, and then gathered information about Jeff for Alf. “Then it’s a new life for us,” I said to Elvis. “Freedom. A brilliant new job, and no Jeff.” Elvis whined and stared at me. “Oh, it’s lunchtime, isn’t it?”
I fed my dog, ate a sandwich and called my gran back for another video extravaganza. This time, Jolene was present, looking perky and tanned with bright red bobbed hair and a Minnie Mouse T-shirt.
“Congratulations,” Gran said when I told her my news. “I knew you’d get it.”
“Oh, my,” Jolene said. “A private eye in the family, Mary-Jane, how exciting.”
“I almost forgot,” I said. “I have other news - there’s someone I want you to meet.”
“You’ve found a new guy already?” Jolene peered closer at the screen.
“Not quite.” I laughed and carried the phone to the living room, where Elvis was stretched out on the sofa. “Meet the new man in my life. Elvis.”
There were squeals of delight from the phone.
“Oh, my gosh, he is just too cute.” Jolene blew kisses at Elvis, and he stared at my phone. “Is he a Doodle?”
“He’s brilliant,” Gran said. “Just what you need and much better company than that husband of yours.”
“Yes, he’s the best Doodle ever. And now I can do the things I’ve always wanted to.” I sat beside Elvis, and together we looked at my grandmother and Jolene. “Like have a dog and maybe write that book.”
“You go, girl.” Jolene nodded.
Gran smiled at me. “Absolutely. The sky’s the limit.”
We said our goodbyes, and then Elvis and I stared out of the window until Sue appeared at the gate. I let her in; she fussed over my dog and then apologised for the previous evening.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Emma and I won’t bang on about domestic stuff again. You must have been bored senseless.”
I remembered my rush to leave Sue’s house and blushed. “Oh, no, not really.”
“You’ll have to be a better liar when you’re detecting.”
“It’s fine. I’m sorry if I looked bored, and I was distracted by the interview. I can’t wait to start. I’m going to Alf’s house tomorrow, and he’s going to try and find Jeff.”
We discussed my new career possibilities until Emma and Bertie arrived, and then I fetched my bag and jacket, and we set out for the café.
“You were a big hit with Alf,” Emma said as we walked down to the prom. “He was really chatty.”
“He was? I’d hate to see him in a quiet mood, then.”
“No, he was impressed by you, and you’re invited to his house; Ian and I have never been, and we’ve known him for years.”
We reached the bottom of Hill Street, and I spotted a gap in the traffic and ran across with Elvis. Then I turned to see Emma and Sue stranded on the other side with a couple who lived in Elder Lane. Sue was introducing them to Emma, so I led Elvis to the wall at the side of the café, and he jumped up and looked over, wagging his tail.
“What have you seen?” I peered over at the tiny stretch of sand and saw a couple standing against the wall, locked in a passionate embrace. They wore hooded sweatshirts with their heads covered, and I couldn’t see their faces. The man’s hoodie was blue and the woman’s bright yellow.
And then the man stepped back, and I caught a glimpse of his face. Mark Cooper.
“Eeuw.” I pulled Elvis away from the wall. “Who’d want to snog that pillock? He must have drugged a tourist.”
Sue, Emma and Bertie arrived beside me, and we made for Sea Brew. “Let’s avoid the front windows, just in case,” I said as I led us inside. The café was half-full, and we chose a table overlooking the beach where I sat facing the room with Sue beside me and Emma opposite. Bertie and Elvis shuffled around beneath the table, and I moved my feet away before my dog used them as a pillow and left me incapacitated again.
“They’ve got a new waiter,” Emma said.
Sue and I followed her gaze and groaned. “Oh, God, not the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Sorry?” Emma looked from us to the teenage boy hurrying past with a tray of drinks. “Why d’you say that?”
“You’ll see when he takes our order,” Sue muttered while I grinned. Sea Brew’s newest staff member lived on Moor Road: Ewan Thomson’s father was a doctor in Lufton and his mother a primary school teacher. He was a lovely lad, but he’d developed an irritating manner of speech where his voice rose at the end of every sentence, making any conversation sound like an interrogation.
He spotted us setting down our menus and came to our table. “Good afternoon?” he said. “It’s a lovely day? Oh, hello, Mrs Pearce, it’s great to see you? The specials board is just over there?” He turned and pointed to the blackboard on the wall behind the counter. “We’re doing a deal on hot drinks and cake?”
“Lovely,” I said and gave our order.
“That’s two cappuccinos, one latte and three slices of chocolate cake?”
“Thanks.” I thrust the menus into his hands, and he trotted away.
“I see what you mean,” Emma said. “That was wearing.”
“I babysat him a few times,” Sue said. “Nearly clubbed him unconscious with his Luke Skywalker doll.” Then the café door opened, and she grinned. “Our Steph will be stuck with him all day. Mind you, she looks cheerful enough right now.”
“Maybe she’s finally had customer training,” Emma said. “Or a frontal lobotomy.”
We stared at the waitress as she swept into the café and crossed to the counter. I took in her flushed face, wide smile and windswept hair, and then my gaze fell to her yellow hoodie. She disappeared through a door that I assumed led to the flat upstairs, and Paul emerged from the kitchen and served a group of customers waiting to pay.
“Are you okay, Marnie?” Emma asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Seen the hot chef, you mean.” Sue nudged me, and I managed to smile. Then Paul saw me, grinned, and came out from behind the counter. I willed my face to stay calm as he walked towards our table, and then Elvis and Bernie emerged to greet the chef, and he crouched down to make a fuss of them.
Sue nudged me again, and my face flamed. I tried to look relaxed while my thoughts whirled around Steph and Mark Cooper. Paul straightened up, and I introduced him to Sue and Emma. He shook hands then looked at me. “How did it go?”
“I got the job.”
“Brilliant. Is this a celebration?” He stepped aside as Ewan reappeared with our coffees and huge slices of cake. “Then it’s on the house.”
“What? No, don’t be daft,” I said.
“I insist, and congratulations.” Paul nodded at me, turned and made his way back to the counter.
“We’ll need to bring you in here more often,” Sue said as she raised her cup. “To Marnie, Ace Detective.”
We clinked cups, my face turned a brighter shade of red, and we drank to my new career while I wondered what to do with what I’d learnt. Should I say anything – and what if I was wrong? I gazed across the sand, trying to spot anyone else wearing a yellow top – but drew a blank. I wasn’t wrong: I could feel it.
Steph emerged minutes later and helped an elderly lady choose cakes to take home. I watched the waitress tying the string on the cardboard box and marvelled at her calm exterior, given that she’d recently been snogging the face off Dexter Bay’s answer to Clark Kent. Paul came out of the kitchen with a tray of strawberry tarts, and she took them from him with a grin. I wanted to shove one in her face.
Emma’s phone rang. “Ian, what is it? Oh, you…yeah, yeah, fine. Give me twenty minutes.” She put her phone away and drained her coffee. “He left a file at home and wants me to bring it in.” She sighed. “Well, good luck Marnie. You’ll keep me posted, yeah?”
“Course, and thanks again for setting it up.”
Emma and Bertie left the café, and Sue turned to me. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
I glanced around and decided there were too many locals close by. “I’ll tell you outside.”
We finished ten minutes later and prepared to leave – and then Steph appeared with our bill. “Paul said it’s on the house,” I told her.
She scowled. “Paul never told me.”
“Go and ask him,” I said. “Or do you think I’m lying and want to turn it into a story? Maybe you should call that guy from the paper, what’s his name again…Mike? Mick? No, Mark, isn’t it?”
Steph froze. “I'll speak to Paul.” She turned and stalked behind the counter. I reined Elvis in, and we headed for the door as Paul reappeared at the till and waved goodbye.
“Thanks again,” I said, “Though Steph’s not convinced about your generosity.”
Paul laughed. “Leave her to me.”
“Gladly,” I muttered as we left Sea Brew.