The Truth about Archie and Pye by Jonathan Pinnock

The Truth about Archie and Pye by Jonathan Pinnock

Author:Jonathan Pinnock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrago


Chapter 19

I carried the case over to an empty table and carefully lifted the lid. Sweet wrappers spilled out in all directions. I started scrunching them all up.

‘Careful,’ said Dorothy, following me over. ‘Don’t throw anything away yet. Might be useful.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘Burgess was the sort of bloke who’d scribble information down on the back of anything that came to hand. Such as this.’ She waved a Bounty wrapper at me. It had an address on the back of it.

‘Holy shit. It says “Standage” here. Wasn’t that—’

‘The Vavasors’ housekeeper. He must have tracked her down.’ Dorothy looked worried. ‘I hope he didn’t tell anyone else.’

‘Why not?’ I said. Then I realised. ‘Shit. Someone needs to warn her. Is there a phone number anywhere?’

Dorothy went through the other wrappers, straightening them out and placing them in a neat pile. When she reached the end, she shook her head.

‘Bugger,’ I said. ‘I’ll have to go there myself then. Where is it again?’ I peered at the address.

‘Lewes,’ said Dorothy.

‘I thought she was rumoured to be hunkered down on the outskirts of Basingstoke?’

‘Says Lewes here. Either way, you’re not going until we’ve finished sorting through this stuff.’ She gave me a stern look.

‘Yes, miss.’

The next thing we found was the torn lower half of a twee ‘Forever Friends’ birthday card featuring a group of teddy bears dancing around a stationary badger. The tweeness was undermined by the cryptically suggestive message contained within:

I COULD FORNICATE

MY LOVELY VIXEN

‘Classy,’ I said. I was all for tossing it straight in the bin, but once again Dorothy restrained me.

‘Oh come on,’ I said. ‘It’s a poxy birthday card that Burgess had second thoughts about sending. It’s nothing to do with us.’

‘I still say we keep it.’

‘If you insist.’

‘I do.’

I placed the card underneath the pile of sweet papers and went back to the case. Next up was a bulging folder with the words ‘Twins Book’ scrawled on it in black magic marker. I took it out and laid it on the table.

‘Oh Christ,’ said Dorothy, looking back at the case. I hadn’t noticed what was under the folder, and it was an unexpected discovery because I really hadn’t pegged George Burgess as a subscriber to Hot Asian Chicks magazine. Without thinking I turned to look at Dorothy and realised, several aeons too late, that it was the wrong thing to do.

‘Tom,’ she said. ‘Whatever you’re about to say to me, please think very, very carefully before saying it.’

‘I… no… what I mean is… I wasn’t going to say anything. I really wasn’t.’ I really wasn’t.

‘Fine.’ She picked up the well-thumbed magazine by the corner and dropped it, with great ceremony and not a little disdain, into the wastepaper basket. ‘You passed the test. Well done. OK, Let’s move on. What have you got there?’

The folder was bursting with sheets of A4, each one decorated with green spidery handwriting. ‘Burgess’s manuscript, I guess,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ said Dorothy with a sigh. ‘Something else we could probably dispose of.’

‘Not so sure. I think I know someone who might be interested.



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