Don't Feed the Rat! Page 25

  ‘And Doug never knew,’ Emily said. ‘He probably could have paid off all his debts.’

  ‘What happened to the brooch?’ Dave asked.

  ‘It’s evidence at the moment,’ Abe said. ‘But when all this is done, it will go back to the rightful owner, Godric’s wife Linda.’

  ‘She’s lucky,’ Emily said. She looked at Jacob. ‘You must be happy to have your job back. Now that the schoolboard knows you’re not a vicious killer, they must think it’s safe for you to teach physics again.’

  ‘Yes, what’s the worst that can happen when you teach?’ Abe said. ‘Get your eyebrows burned off?’ He smirked.

  ‘Funny story,’ Dave said. ‘Once when we were small, Jacob did a physics experiment in his room. It didn’t turn out the way he’d planned and as I was standing only a foot away, I got my eyebrows singed.’

  ‘You’re still not over that, are you?’ Jacob said.

  ‘And let’s not forget you almost burned the house down on that occasion,’ Peggy said. ‘I didn’t think your parents were ever going to let you do experiments again.’

  ‘Neither did I for a while.’

  ‘At least you turned out okay,’ Abe said and clapped Jacob on the shoulder. ‘Sort of...’

  Everyone took some sips of their drinks.

  ‘Have you heard the latest gossip?’ Peggy said after a bit of silence. ‘Priscilla’s moving house!’ They all gasped. ‘Apparently she’s moving to one of those apartments near the railway station. I heard she bought the penthouse on the ninth floor.’

  ‘Ah,’ Jacob said. ‘No trouble with rats that high up in the sky...’

  ‘I feel sorry for the people in the other apartments, though ...’ Emily said. Jacob nodded.

  ‘Talking about gossip,’ Dave said. ‘My mate at the planning department told me that Rupert has withdrawn his plans for the allotments.’ There was a collective cheer.

  ‘I’m happy,’ Jacob said. ‘But let’s face it. There would have been very little chance of him succeeding once the word got out. I’m certain many more people than just tenants of Hoes & Rakes would have protested.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Dave said. ‘Still, I’m happy it’s all off the table without a lot of fuss.’

  ‘And Georgie?’ Peggy asked. ‘Is she back to campaigning to be permanently voted in as Chair?’

  Emily nodded. ‘Yes. Using all her natural charms to get it done.’ She gave Jacob a playful dig with her elbow.

  Jacob turned bright red. To change the subject he said, ‘I heard that Wilbur received a new grant from the university. He’s going to study a group of red squirrels in High Woolaston, so he’s giving up his allotment on the hill.’

  Now it was Emily’s turn to become bright red.

  ‘So all is back to normal again,’ Abe said. ‘Except perhaps for McDermott. He was actually a bit put out that you didn’t turn out to be the killer, Jacob.’ He clapped Jacob on the shoulder again. ‘Why is he so nasty to you?’

  Jacob shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I taught his son physics.’

  ‘Did he burn his eyebrows off?’ Abe said with a grin. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Who knows? In any case I don’t care. I’m just glad I’m not a suspect any more.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Peggy said, and squeezed his arm. Jacob looked at her and butterflies danced in his stomach. He quickly pulled his hanky from his pocket to dab at the drop of sweat that threatened to roll down his forehead. With the hanky something else came out of his pocket and it fell with a ticking sound on the hard oak wood floor, then rolled away under the table.

  ‘What’s that?’ Emily said, diving under the table to retrieve the object. She put it down on the table and everyone stared at it. It was a button.

  Jacob grabbed it and put it back in his pocket.

  ‘Is that Robbie’s button?’ Dave said. ‘Why do you carry it around in your pocket?’

  Jacob looked at his friend. ‘It reminds me that I will keep searching for the truth. One day we will know what happened to Robbie.’

  ‘You’d better not lose it,’ Dave said.

  ‘I won’t.’ Jacob put his hand in his pocket and clutched the button. He would never lose it.

  * * *

  Paddy

  I sat on the garden wall with Vinnie, Pete and Eddy. Things had calmed down a lot on the hill since I faced Cecil and we rescued my nephews, and I’d had a few days to think.

  We watched as Mad Maggie was packing her stuff in boxes. From what we could see, there were boxes in the kitchen, and the two upstairs rooms.

  ‘Do you think she’s getting a lot of extra food in?’ Pete asked. ‘Is that why she’s making room?’ He hopped from one foot to the other in anticipation.

  ‘Haven’t you learned your lesson yet, Pete?’ Vinnie said and gave Pete a playful slap. ‘You were lucky to escape with your life.’

  ‘Nah,’ Pete said. ‘All the food I ate made me extra strong and agile. That’s why I escaped.’

  Vinnie shook his head. ‘It was dumb luck.’

  We watched as Mad Maggie packed more stuff away in boxes.

  ‘Maybe she’s getting another rat catching dog,’ Eddy said.

  ‘Pffff...’ Pete said. ‘The dog she has now is not a rat catching dog. It couldn’t even catch Paddy’s nephews...’

  Vinnie looked at me. ‘You have been very quiet the last couple of days.’

  I shrugged. ‘I’ve been contemplating the events that happened in the past and compared them with the events of the past few weeks.’

  ‘Like what?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Well, I have always been convinced that as a little’un I saw the Mad Maggie from my great-grandma’s stories. She buried something on the allotments.’ I wrinkled my brow. ‘Now I’m not so certain any more. Did I see Mad Maggie, or was it simply a two-legged digging a hole? I’m not even certain any more it was a female. It could just as well have been a male.’

  Vinnie thought about my words, pawing his whiskers. ‘And why do you think this is important?’

  ‘I want to figure out if my great-grandma’s stories were real or not.’ I turned to Pete. ‘You remember the amount of stories she told us. Dozens. I’d like to know if any of it was true. Was it really all just to keep the little’uns on their toes?’

  Pete shrugged. ‘I don’t know about all that, but I do know that the Mad Maggie story you told us has a different ending than what I heard when I was little.’

  We all looked at Pete. A sudden chill ran down my spine.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, the Mad Maggie story Great-grandma Arabella told me ended with “then take the shovel away from her”,’ Pete said. He scratched the fur on his head. ‘I always thought that was a bit odd. Especially since Cecil and his posse couldn’t manage to take the shovel away from Mad Maggie in the past week.’

  ‘No that’s right, they couldn’t,’ Eddy said.

  ‘But wait,’ Vinnie said. He pointed at the house where Mad Maggie was rummaging around. ‘We have just established that this Mad Maggie is not the Mad Maggie from the ratlore.’ He shrugged. ‘So even if the story ends differently, Cecil not taking her shovel away wouldn’t matter, would it?’

  I thought it over. In the past few weeks I had mixed up my great-grandma’s stories with what was happening on the hill. But now the stories were even more jumbled up than I thought.

  I shook my head and sighed. ‘I don’t know any more. I need a vacation.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Pete said. ‘Or at least some time with no strife and ratnappings.’

  ‘By the way,’ Eddy said. ‘What happened to Cecil?’

  Pete smiled from ear to ear. ‘Glad you asked. It was very funny. Some of the older rats managed to get Cecil out of Little One’s cage. Then his grandfather came over from Woolaston Road and gave him a gigantic kick up the backside.’ Pete jumped up and down with glee. ‘Now Cecil’s being punished by having to help his mother look after her new born little’uns. He hates
it, but his grandfather has moved in to keep an eye on them all.’

  ‘Well, pride comes before the fall,’ I said. ‘Smug little furball...’

  ‘Cecil’s grandfather is from Woolaston Road?’ Vinnie said. ‘Hmm, I have two second cousins who live in the sewers there. Maybe I should look them up one of these days, see how they are.’

  ‘Are the sewers quiet, without crazy two-leggeds and maniacal young rats?’ I asked.

  Vinnie shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Then it’s settled. I will come with you and have a vacation.’

  Pete shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t want to go there. There are no snails in a sewer.’ He jumped off the wall. Looking back up at us from the path, he said, ‘Which reminds me, I haven’t had a snail in a while.’

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes. Beside me, Vinnie did the same. Then we also jumped off the wall and followed Pete in a quest for food.

  THE END

  * * *

  Sewer Mayhem, Book 2 in the Jacob Hick Murder Mysteries comes out in November 2018. Can’t wait that long for more adventures? Then download the free short story Peanuts!, to dive right into a new mystery.

  Get my Free Short Story!

  Setting off on their holiday, Paddy the Rat and his pal Vinnie bump into their old enemies, the grey squirrels. Paddy soon realises that these fluffy-tailed creatures hang about the pub on Milbury Green for nefarious reasons. He has no option but to warn his old pal Carl about them, temporarily postponing the holiday, much to Vinnie’s chagrin.

  Things go from bad to worse when Carl’s son Billy gets kidnapped by the Greys, and Paddy, Vinnie and Carl scramble to rescue him from their clutches.

  Will Paddy and Vinnie ever make it to Woolaston Road for their well-deserved holiday?

  * * *

  If you enjoyed Don’t Feed the Rat!, please consider leaving a review, even if it’s only a line or two, it would be a big help.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Annie Appleton is an indie writer, who loves cats, baking and reading mysteries. Although this might make her sound like a stereotypical cosy mystery writer, Annie is far from that. She actually spent nine months of her life working on containerships and loves looking at the night sky in search for the International Space Station.

  In 2004, Annie was lucky enough to move from her native Netherlands to the English city of York, where she ended up in a close-knit, but vibrant community. Annie soon fit in, thanks to a part-time job at the local deli and an allotment society vegetable plot.

  Having written two non-fiction books about York, Annie is now using her time in York as inspiration for her cosy mysteries.

  To find out more about Annie visit www.annieappletonwriter.com.

  Alternatively get in touch on Facebook or send her an email: annie@annieappletonwriter.com

  Annie’s non-fiction books have been published under her real name Maria Staal.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First and foremost I am very grateful for the help and patience of my developmental editor Eva Kattz. I can truly say that without her, this book would never have been written. Eva’s knowledge of plot, structure and characterisation is vast and she was more than willing to share it with me, even though cosy mystery is not her genre at all.

  Further thanks go out to my editor Helen Baggott, who ironed out the text and caught all my Dutchisms, and Jennifer from Indie Designz who made the cover for this book and perfectly managed to visualise its genre and feel.

  I also would like to thank my beta-readers Yvonne Klein-Wilderboer, Jaleesa Lokken, Debbie Young, who each of them gave me valuable feedback.

  A posthumous thanks goes out to Ann Ciechanowski, who in the early stages of this book helped out with getting the setting right and finding the proper Yorkshire names and terms. I am sad that she will never see the end result.

  Last but not least, I like to thank the vast indie community for their ongoing support and help over the years. We can’t underestimate how important it is to have a community of writers who don’t see each other as competition, but as colleagues working towards a common goal, publishing the best books possible!