“Satisfied?” The woman had followed Susan, and was now looking over her shoulder.

  “You’ve had it removed.”

  “There has never been a fridge in this shop. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I have work to do.”

  Susan drove straight to The KeyStop in Middle Wash.

  “You again? What do you want this time?” It was the same young man she’d seen on her previous two visits.

  “I’d like to ask you some questions.” She showed him her Press card.

  “I have nothing to say to the press.”

  “What was the red liquid that spilled on the pavement outside your shop?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Why so secretive? Do you have something to hide?”

  “No. If you must know, it was shoe polish.”

  “Rubbish. Why did the woman who dropped it rush away like that?”

  “How would I know? You’d have to ask her.”

  “I’d rather ask you what you’re keeping in that fridge?” She looked over the counter, but where last time there had been a fridge, there was now an empty space.

  “Which fridge would that be?”

  “When I was in here before, there was a fridge over there, by the door. It was designed to look like a safe.”

  “You’re crazy. There’s never been a safe or a fridge in here. Why would I need either? Was there anything else you wanted?”

  Susan thumped the roof of her car. She was annoyed that they’d managed to outflank her, but if they thought they could get rid of her that easily, they had another think coming. She was now one-hundred percent sure that some kind of drug network was operating out of these small shops. This was a big story, and she didn’t plan to let it go until she had the proof she needed to publish it.

  ***

  That evening, Neil had arranged to meet his workmates and their partners at the Washbridge Steakhouse. Debs had chosen the venue, and judging by the menu, which was displayed next to the entrance, this was going to be an expensive evening. No mention had been made about payment, but if Debs and Fable expected him to pick up the tab for the whole group, they were going to be disappointed.

  Debs and Johnny were the first to arrive.

  “You’ve met Johnny, haven’t you, Neil?”

  “I have.” He shook hands with the giant werewolf, and immediately regretted it, as he felt the bones in his hand being crushed. “Nice to see you again, mate,” he lied.

  “Have you been here before?” Johnny asked.

  “No. It’s not somewhere I’d normally eat.”

  “Neil prefers a burger and fries, don’t you?” Debs quipped.

  “Actually, I prefer Greek food.”

  “Hey, guys!” Fable appeared, arm in arm with Troy. Walking beside them was a young woman.

  “You must be Kim.” Neil stepped forward, totally ignoring Fable and her boyfriend. “I’m Neil.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She flashed a set of perfect teeth. She was even more beautiful than the photograph that Fable had shown to him. This promised to be a great evening.

  When they were seated, Kim turned to Neil. “Fable told me that the TV thing didn’t work out.”

  “Unfortunately not, but I have plenty more irons in the fire.” As he spoke he caught sight of Debs, who rolled her eyes. He ignored her. “What do you do, Kim?”

  “It’s rather complicated.” She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “I’ll tell you later when we’re alone.”

  Alone? Did that mean what he thought it did? He was intrigued to find out what she did for a living that she didn’t want the others to know about. Maybe she was an exotic dancer; she certainly had the figure for it.

  Despite his preference for Greek cuisine, Neil had to concede that the steak was as good as any he’d ever had. Both Johnny and Troy proved to be as boring as he’d expected, but that wasn’t going to spoil his evening. His mind was on afters, when he’d be alone with Kim.

  When they’d all finished, Neil was pleased to find that everyone paid their own share of the bill. He did consider offering to pay for Kim, but then decided there was no need; she’d already said they could get together afterwards.

  Fable and Troy were the first to leave.

  “Sorry, guys,” Fable said. “But Troy has an early start in the morning.” She turned to Kim. “Do you want to share a cab with us?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll stay a little longer.”

  All Neil needed now was for Debs and Johnny to sling their hooks.

  “I can tell you what I do for a living now,” Kim said.

  “I thought you wanted to wait until we were alone?”

  “It doesn’t matter if Debs or Johnny overhear. I just didn’t want to say anything in front of the humans.”

  Huh? Neil was taken aback because he’d assumed she was a human. “Sorry?”

  “Fable is one of my best friends, and I’m glad she invited me here tonight, but I can speak more openly now she’s gone.”

  “I’m a little confused. Are you—err—I thought you were—err—”

  “I’m not a sup if that’s what you mean, but I do come into contact with a lot of sups in my line of work.”

  “What is it you do?”

  “It’s a little awkward. I don’t want to freak you out.”

  “You could never do that.”

  “I hoped you’d say that. I’m actually a reaper.”

  “Like a farmer?”

  “Not that kind of reaper. I’m the grim variety.”

  ***

  Neil was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and reflecting on the evening’s events. For a while there he’d thought he’d truly hit the jackpot, but then Kim had dropped that bombshell. Hopefully, he’d managed to hide the utter disgust he’d felt when he learned what she did for a living. As a sup, he came into contact with all manner of creatures, but grim reapers were another level of creepy. What kind of job was it where you spent all day despatching the dead to the next stage of their journey? Even the terminology bothered him. Before he’d been able to escape, Kim had insisted on telling him all about her job. She’d been the one who’d referred to what she did as despatching the dead.

  When they’d left the restaurant, it was obvious that Kim had expected him to ask her out again, but Neil had no intention of doing that. He’d taken her number with the promise of calling her, which he would—the day after hell froze over.

  At some point, Neil had fallen into a deep sleep, but then just before two in the morning, something made him stir. When he opened his eyes, he found himself face-to-face with Mad Maggie, who was hovering inches above him.

  “Hello again, young man,” she said, through a mouthful of rotting teeth.

  Chapter 22

  The next morning, Susan was still in her bedroom, Dorothy and Neil were in the lounge, and Charlie was in the kitchen.

  “She was this close to my face.” Neil held his hand a couple of inches from his nose. “And her breath was putrid.”

  “I thought you’d got rid of that old hag?” Charlie said.

  “That’s no way to speak of Susan.” Dorothy grinned.

  “I reckon Socky must have sent her, to get his own back on me.”

  “What did you do to upset him?”

  “I refused to help him win back his lady friend.”

  “I thought you’d promised to help him with that?”

  “That was before the idiot got smashed out of his head, and wrecked my magic act. The agency has thrown me out because of what happened at the kids’ party. That ghost has cost me a small fortune.”

  “Is Mad Maggie going to be a permanent fixture from now on, then?”

  “I sincerely hope not. She freaks me out, especially with that shoelace threaded around her fingers. If she’s moved in permanently, I’ll never get a good night’s sleep again.”

  “Morning, everyone.” Susan came out of her bedroom. “How come you three are always up before me?”

  “We don’t have a hangover to slow us down,” Dorothy said.

  Susan ignored the jibe. “I’ve made some progress on the drug network story, if you’re interested?”

  “I am,” Charlie said.

  “Me too.” Neil nodded.

  Dorothy shrugged, but in truth, she was even more eager for news than the other two.

  “I went back to those two shops: The KeyStop and In Bloom. In both cases, the fridges had been removed.”

  “Is that it?” Dorothy scoffed. “Headline news: shops do not have fridges. I don’t think that’s going to win you a Pulitzer.”

  “Don’t you see? The fridges must have been removed because I was getting too close for comfort. If just one of them had been taken out, it could have been a coincidence, but for both to have gone? I don’t think so.”

  “Where do you go from here?” Charlie asked.

  “I’m not sure yet. Ideally, I’d like to find another shop that still has one of those fridges installed. If I could somehow grab a bottle of that red liquid, and get it tested, I’d be much closer to knowing what’s going on. You three might be able to help.”

  “Us?” Charlie said. “What can we do?”

  “Keep your eyes peeled. If you spot what looks like a fridge-sized safe in any of the small shops you visit, let me know.”

  “Maybe Dorothy has one in the bookshop,” Neil said.

  “I’ve actually got a couple of them.” Dorothy played along whilst contemplating how she’d kill Neil later.

  When Neil returned to his bedroom, Mad Maggie was sitting on his bed, picking at her teeth, or at least what was left of them.

  “Do you have to do that?” Neil screwed up his face in disgust.

  “I’ve got some bits of meat stuck. Them rats are pretty tough.”

  Neil felt the bile rising in his throat. “I’d appreciate a little privacy while I get changed for work.”

  “You ain’t got nothing Maggie hasn’t seen a million times before.”

  “Even so. I’d rather you left.”

  “Very well.”

  Much to Neil’s relief, she disappeared.

  “Tobias? Are you there? Tobias?”

  Socky appeared next to the window. “What is it? I’m a busy man.”

  “You sent Mad Maggie here, didn’t you?”

  “I did warn you that going back on your word would have consequences.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. Get rid of her, and I’ll help you get Bella back.”

  “It will take more than that now. You’ve caused me much distress.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A couple of bottles of double malt should do it.”

  “What? You’ve already cost me a small fortune, and now you expect me to fork out for whisky? You can whistle for it.”

  “As you wish.” Socky disappeared.

  There was no way Neil was going to give in to Socky’s extortionate demands. He’d just have to find another way to get rid of Mad Maggie.

  ***

  Although Susan intended to follow up on the drug network story, today her priority was the unsolved murders, which may or may not have been the work of a serial killer. The final name on the list that Stella had prepared was Jennifer Cox. Her husband had been murdered just over six years ago. Susan had almost not bothered contacting Cox because it appeared that the woman may not be a reliable witness. According to what Susan had read, Jennifer Cox had been drinking heavily on the day her husband was murdered.

  The well-maintained, detached house was in one of the more desirable suburbs of Washbridge. That, and the top-of-the-range car parked on the driveway, suggested that Jennifer Cox had not been left short of cash.

  “Susan Hall?”

  “That’s right. Mrs Cox, I assume.”

  “Call me Jennifer, please. Do come in.”

  While her host made tea, Susan looked around the large lounge. On the walls were numerous paintings of animals—mostly horses and dogs.

  “Help yourself to biscuits.” Jennifer passed the cup of tea to Susan.

  “Thanks. You have a lovely house. These pictures are amazing.”

  “Thank you. Painting is a hobby of mine.”

  “You did all of these? Do you sell them?”

  “No. Ray was always pestering me to do that, but I’ve no interest in selling them. I do them for my own enjoyment.”

  “They’re as good as any I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you. I’m happy to talk to you about Ray’s death, but I doubt my story will have any similarities to those you’ve heard so far.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I doubt any of the others claimed that their partners were killed by an animal.”

  “Even so, I’d like to hear your version of events the day your husband was murdered.”

  “We’d been for a drink out in the countryside. There’s a lovely little pub called The Retreat, between Lower Wash and Middle Wash. Do you know it?”

  “I can’t say I do.”

  “It’s located at the top of a beautiful valley. We often used to have a drink there, and then go down into the valley, and walk along the river bank. If you’ve read the newspaper reports, you’ll know they suggest that I was inebriated. That simply isn’t true. I’d had one glass of wine—that’s all. I was perfectly sober.”

  “Why do you think they played up the ‘drink’ angle?”

  “It allowed them to dismiss my story as the ramblings of a drunk. The press weren’t the only ones who did that; the police took the same view.”

  “I believe you, and I’d like to hear your story.”

  “We were taking our usual walk along the riverbank when this creature appeared from nowhere.”

  “The newspaper reports called it a large dog.”

  “They did, but I would say it was more like a wolf—a huge wolf. When it leapt on Ray, I must have fainted. When I came around—” Jennifer took a deep breath. “He was dead; he’d been torn to pieces.”

  “What about the creature?”

  “There was no sign of it. A group of ramblers was coming down the valley. I think they must have spooked it, otherwise I’d probably be dead too.”

  “Did any of the ramblers see the creature?”

  “Unfortunately not.”

  “And you say it was like a wolf?”

  “Yes, I painted a picture of it for the police, but they weren’t interested. Would you like to see it?”

  “Please.”

  “I keep it in the back bedroom because it upsets me to look at it. I’ll go and get it.”

  When Jennifer returned, she placed the painting on the coffee table.

  Susan stared at it for several minutes, without saying a word.

  “What do you think?” Jennifer said.

  Susan didn’t respond; she seemed lost in the painting.

  “Susan?”

  “Sorry.” Susan snapped back to earth. “That’s very helpful.” She stood up. “Would you mind if I took a photo of it?”

  “Err—I guess not.”

  Susan snapped a photo with her phone. “Thank you for your time, but I have to get going. Thanks again.”

  Once she was back in her car, Susan tried to make sense of what she’d just seen, but there was no sense to be made of it. With trembling hands, she somehow managed to make a phone call.

  “Greg, it’s Susan.”

  “Hi. I was hoping—”

  “Listen. I have to talk to you as soon as possible.”

  “I’m working at the moment, and then I have a meeting of PAW tonight. Would tomorrow do?”

  “No, it has to be today. Could you spare me a few minutes?”

  “If I grab a sandwich on the way, I’ll arrive at the church hall at about six-thirty, so I’ll have about half-an-hour before the meeting starts.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

  “What’s it about, Susan?”

  “I—err—I’d rather discuss it face to face. I’ll see you later.”

  ***

  Susan spent the rest of the day in the office, but she couldn’t really focus on anything. A couple of times, Stella tried to engage her in conversation, but Susan’s mind was elsewhere. When she eventually called it a day, she drove straight to the old church hall where the PAW meeting was to be held. It was only six o’clock.

  Thirty minutes later, the Gregmobile turned up. Susan was out of the car before Greg had chance to kill the engine.

  “You made it sound urgent,” Greg said, as they made their way inside.

  “It is. I think.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I—err—I think there may be something to this paranormal stuff.”

  “Sorry?” Greg looked stunned. “Are you being serious or is this some kind of wind up?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “What brought this on? Was it the bottle of blood?”

  “No. I still don’t believe that was blood.”

  “The missing persons, then?”

  “No. I’ve been following up on a number of unsolved murders in and around Washbridge. In each case the victim had been torn to shreds. Earlier today, I spoke to a woman who maintains that a large wolf-like creature attacked her husband while they were out for a walk in the countryside.”

  “Okay?”

  “The woman—her name is Jennifer Cox—is a talented amateur artist. She mainly paints animals. I’ve seen her work; it’s excellent.”

  “I still don’t see—”

  “She painted a picture of the creature that killed her husband.” Susan took out her phone, and showed the photo to Greg.

  “You realise this is a werewolf, don’t you?” he said.

  “I don’t know what it is, but I do know I saw several of these creatures a few days ago.”

  “What? Where?”

  “This is going to sound crazy.”

  “I’m usually the one who says that.”

  “I went to a fancy dress ball at Washbridge House. A ball with a supernatural theme. At the time, I remember being amazed by some of the werewolf costumes, but now I’m beginning to think that maybe they weren’t costumes at all. They looked exactly like this painting.”

 

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