The Case of the Custard Conspiracy by Rosie A. Point

Author:Rosie A. Point [Point, Rosie A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rosie A. Point

16

The wedding photographer lived on Tine Lane, a street that ended in a fence bordering a field. The boxy brick houses lacked fences of their own, their front paths joining the sidewalk, and most of their yards neatly kept.

Except for one. The photographer’s house.

A rusty washing machine had been left out front, and what had once been a sofa sagged into the grass near the cracked front steps.

“Oh boy,” I muttered. “This ought to be fun.” I half-expected a reply from Gamma, even though I hadn’t put on my microphone and earpiece. She had bigger fish to fry today. Namely, whoever was stealing the Halloween decorations from the Gossip Inn.

I got out of her seagreen Mini-Cooper, and made for the photographer’s front path.

“Hey!” A woman, middle-aged, slim and wearing a neatly ironed blouse, waved at me from the front step of the house next-door. “Over here.”

I frowned but joined her.

“Hi,” she said, sweeping a gaze over me, “you’re Georgina’s assistant, right? The one from the Gossip Inn?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?” My grandmother’s roots had penetrated deeply in this town. Everybody knew her. Most people liked her, apart from Belle-Blue’s crew.

“I’m Henrietta Burnes,” she replied, shaking my hand. “I’m a… grape.” The last word came out in a whisper.

“Right. Nice to meet you.” Gamma’s “grapes” were her hidden network of gossips who gave her information about the goings on in town. Up until now, I hadn’t realized that they identified themselves as grapes too.

“Why are you here?” Henrietta asked, leaning in. “For Freddy Fisher?”

“The photographer, yeah.”

“Part-time photographer, full-time slob,” Henrietta said. “That boy wouldn’t know a real day of work if it hit him right in the gap between his two front teeth. You’re here to talk to him about photography?” She gasped. “The wedding! That’s it, isn’t it? The Childless-Knowles wedding.”

I didn’t answer. As much as Gamma likely trusted Henrietta, I didn’t know her. And it was never wise to give too much away, especially in Gossip.

“I heard about the murder,” Henrietta continued, “and I’ve got to say, I’m not that surprised.”

“Why’s that?”

“Julia didn’t invite a single person from Gossip to her wedding. None of her childhood friends, not even distant relatives. You know, of course, both her mother and father are deceased, so…”

“You think one of her old friends might’ve taken exception to the fact that she didn’t invite them?”

“Maybe. You never know in this town.” Henrietta gave a shrug, but the sparkle in her eyes told a different story. She was sure that Julia’s death was related to the lack of wedding invitations for the locals.

“I’d better get going,” I said. “Have a nice day. It was great meeting you.”

“You too, sugar,” she said, then nodded toward Mr. Fisher’s house. “Good luck with that one. You’re going to need it.”

I left the ominous warning behind and headed past the sagging sofa, the rusted washing machine, and up to the front door. I knocked three times, since the doorbell was hanging off the wall.

The latch clicked a moment later, and the door opened to reveal a man who suited the house perfectly.

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