The Gilded Madonna by Garrick Jones (ebook reader for comics TXT) 📕

the counter­pane of the bed we’d been sitting on. The craftsmanship of the patterned piecework was extraordinary. Horses and kangaroos on a blue background on David’s bed, and dogs and cats on a pink background on Susan’s.

“I wish you’d been my D.S. when I first started, Clyde. You’re a lesson in how to handle sensitive issues.”

I laughed. “You’re about the only person I’ve met who’d say that, Tom. Most of the buggers up at the station thought I was a thug with a badge.”

“Well, you were very kind to me, Clyde.”

“We both got slugged with the same cricket bat, mate. It almost makes us relatives.”

He smiled and then leaned back on the bed, craning to look out the window, which overlooked the tiny, but very neat backyard. “I checked out there. There are no vantage points overlooking the garden. There’s that block of flats the man who saw the dog and the children lives in … Medina Court, wasn’t it? I had to stand on the back-fence railing to have a look, but you can only see the brickwork at the corner right at the top.”

“And you didn’t notice anything else?”

“Nothing. Where do we go from here, Clyde?”

“I’d like you to see if Vince is free this evening, Tom. Ask him if he has files on the searches that were done immediately after the children went missing. I’d like to reinterview anyone who was spoken to at the start of the case, and I’d also like to check out places that only us locals know about. Places kids can go, or get trapped in, that the police who grew up in other areas aren’t aware of.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“It’s Christmas Day on Tuesday. When were you thinking of going home to see your mother?”

“Well, I was going to catch the first train on Tuesday, but Mum’s told me she’s going up to see my Uncle Jerry, who lives in Grafton. We don’t get on, so I told her I’d book a phone call through to his house and speak to them instead on Christmas morning. Besides, not only does it take forever to get there, but Mum’s brother also gets pissed rotten and always picks a fight with me or my cousin, his eldest son. I’d rather stay away, thank you very much.”

“So what will you do?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. The Oceanic Hotel has a Christmas lunch with all the trimmings for seven and sixpence, thought I might try that.”

“You’ll do no such thing, mate. Harry’s mum is hosting a dinner for all the waifs and strays. Come spend Christmas Day with us. There’s plenty of room in their house if you want to sleep over. Bring someone if you like. The more the merrier. We’ve all been preparing food for weeks. Trixie is coming and bringing her kids. And do you remember Elizabeth Broadbent, the teller from the bank who helped us in the Morrison case?”

“Yes, I do. She has two sons, doesn’t she?”

“We’ll have a houseful of kids and young adults, and the backyard’s big enough for a game of cricket before lunch. Please come, Tom.”

He blushed slightly and hung his head. “I have to thank you for too much already, Clyde. I still can’t get over the fact you offered me a job.”

“Vince and Sam had nothing to say about you that wasn’t good, and besides, you’ve seen how much I’ve got on my plate. It’s good to have someone to help.”

“Anything else you want me to do?”

“I have to write my column about the stolen mannequin being returned. I also need to get my regular food review written and make a start on my monthly crime report, so I’ll be in my study at home glued to the typewriter after I finish up at the office. Can you tell Vince to come to my place at around seven? Maybe we can throw something together to eat while he talks me through the case files.”

Tom stood and brushed down his strides with the palms of his hands and looked around the room. “Jesus, I hope these kids are all right, Clyde.”

“Me too, Tom, me too … oh, and before you disappear, will you see if the newsagent on the corner has a copy of Monday’s local rag? I forgot to pick one up. I wanted the page with the photos of Dioli and me for my files.”

“No need, Clyde. There’s one in the office already.”

“Why?”

“Harry asked me to place an advertisement for his new premises and to publicise his next adventure tour in January. I thought it would be a good idea to put one in for you at the same time. And, before you ask about how much it cost, they gave it to me for free: Clyde Smith, Private Investigator. No case too big or too small.”

“No case too big or too small? What the hell? I’ll be swamped.”

“No you won’t, Clyde. You have an assistant now who gets paid fifteen bob a case.”

He gave me a cheeky grin and then left to do what I’d asked.

*****

Harry and I had a quiet moment in the storeroom of his office before Tom returned. Well, it wasn’t really quiet, muffled more like it.

I’d given him a key to my flat. Although it was a really huge step for me, he’d grinned, kissed me, and put it in his pocket without saying a word. We talked a bit about Christmas Day and then he made me promise not to get upset. Mary had invited Billy and Sam to pop their heads in during the day. Oddly enough, I wasn’t annoyed, not in the slightest. Since our talk on Tuesday night, when I’d spilled my guts to him about what had happened to me in the P.O.W. camp during the war, I’d been feeling a lot less angry. It made me think that maybe my sessions with Dr. De Natalis might really be a way for me to come to grips with some of my internal demons. Harry