"What pamphlets?" said Sammy.
"The conference of wholesale confectioners – they sent us a pack of leaflets that were to be put out in each delegate’s room." This was Donald McClintock, Sammy’s deputy at Merlin Court.
"Oh. Er, Sorry. I knew there was something…"
"Look," said Donald quietly, standing close. "I’ll sort it out. Why don’t you go home and sleep it off?"
"Sleep what off?"
"And take that bottle with you. There’s no point in putting back a half-empty. I’ll put it down as a breakage."
****
"My Dad’s not in," said Maxwell Fairhurst.
"It’s not Benson I’ve come to see," said Buster Keaton. "It’s you I’ve come to see."
"What about?"
"The other night – when you were with Brooke Ames."
"Yeah. So?"
"What were you up to?"
"What’s it got to do with you?"
"What were you doing?"
"Homework."
"Don’t give me that," said Buster. "See this face. You don’t lie to it, right? You’re both on school holiday for the summer."
"Well… we were just spending some time together. You know? It’s not against the law, is it?"
"No, it isn’t, but that doesn’t make it alright. And did Brooke buy some alcohol?"
"She got some cans of beer in."
"Now she’s old enough to drink. But you’re not."
"Not in public. But I can in private, with an adult."
Buster knew he had a point. He didn’t trust him. But that was probably only because he was a teenager. "Just you make sure you don’t get her to buy it for you from the off-licence. I would take what we adults call ‘a dim view.’ Do you get my meaning?"
"Don’t worry, Mr Keaton. I didn’t touch anything. Either Brooke or anything alcoholic."
Buster suddenly noticed something, past Maxwell’s shoulder, hanging from the coat-rack by its strap. "Has your father got a new camera at last?"
"Goodbye, Mr Keaton." Maxwell closed the door.
Buster had had doors closed in his face before. It never reassured him. It only made him want to come back and ask more questions. And, usually, he did.
As for Maxwell, he leaned with his back to the door and let out a long, deep sigh. He knew what had been on that camera, before he deleted it all for his father. But he’d kept copies on his laptop too. Just in case he needed them. He had a feeling he might.
****
"How was work down at The Petrel?" Douglas asked Maddy.
"Oh, the usual. Mostly quiet. That new couple were in again, but I think they’ll soon get bored. And Sammy had to be helped out the door again."
"Why don’t you ask old man Spencer for a night off?"
"Because we need the money."
"Well, it just happens I’ve got a bit of money to spare at the moment."
"You have?! Have you been in my purse?"
Douglas looked hurt. "No! This is my money. Made it, fair and square. I was wondering whether you fancied an evening out. We could go up town."
"Not on the horses. Don’t tell me you got lucky."
"I got lucky. But not on the horses. How about it?"
****
Brooke Ames opened the door of number 25, Magnolia Close to Shannon Cahill, a friend of hers from Hope Academy.
"You nervous about results tomorrow?"
"A bit," said Brooke. "You?"
"A bit," said Shannon. "But I’ll tell you what’s worrying me most."
"What?"
"Having to stay another term to do re-sits at Hope Academy."
"Yeah, it would be a real drag."
"Not just that, – I’ve got a friend, Clare, who goes to Eastfields. She says she knows that new teacher they are just about to get. A bloke called Farrah."
"Robert Farrah?"
"Oh, you’ve heard of him then?"
"Yeah. You could say that. What about it?"
"Turns out he was a teacher at Eastfields. But he had to leave ‘cos it turns out he’s a bit of a pervert. Specially with schoolgirls."
"What?!"
"No lie. He was a new teacher there just a year ago but he got up to something and they had to give him the heave-ho."
"What did he get up to?"
"You’d have to meet Clare and ask her for the gory details. We’d better just hope were leaving this summer and we get the grades we need. Where you hoping to go?"
"Aston in Birmingham. I want to do media studies."
"Well… here’s hoping. Hey, isn’t your kid sister Celine supposed to be starting at Hope in the autumn?"
****
Robert Farrah knocked on the door of number 29 and was greeted by Lucille Keaton.
"Mrs Keaton?"
"That’s right."
"I was wondering – is your husband at home? I could do with having a word with him."
"Business or pleasure?"
"I’m afraid it’s probably more business than pleasure. Though it is nice to meet you."
"That’s alright," Lucille said coolly. "Please come him. Buster’s through there."
Buster was watching some cop drama on the TV.
"Sorry, I’m interrupting your relaxing."
"That’s alright. Real police work is nothing like most tele shows it. What can I do for you?"
"I don’t want to make it official. But, you know that day we moved in and you came to introduce yourself? You said we should keep an eye on whatisname? – Douglas?"
"What about him?"
"Well, we had a camera when Nas and started unpacking – a digital SLR – but afterwards – after he’d been – we couldn’t find it. We haven’t seen it since."
"Really, if you think someone’s taken it, you should report it."
"I know, but if you could have a discrete word…"
"Hm. If I had a pound for all of them, I wouldn’t need to work as a detective." Buster paused. "Alright. I’ll see what I can do. "
After Robert Farrah had gone, Lucille came up to her husband and put his hand on her shoulder. "That’s him. That’s the one we were talking about at social services. He’s a bad ’un, by all accounts."
End of Episode 12
No comments:
Post a Comment