Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

killer was caught, everything would go back to normal.

Grandad raised an eyebrow, and Pete raised his hand.

‘Before you say anything Stephen, this is at no cost.’

‘Good job. They sound very fancy, which also means very expensive,’ said Grandad.

‘You’re right, they are.’ Pete paused to clear his throat before continuing. ‘A mate of mine from my university days works there. He owes me a favour. You don’t need to worry.’

Grandad reached for the plate of custard creams Mum had left as he asked, ‘What does he owe you a favour for?’

Pete waved his hand. ‘It’s really not worth sharing with you, but Tina knows.’

‘Fair enough, say no more. Well, that’s a stroke of luck. We’d never be able to afford a decent one unless we asked JC here to sell some of the items in the shop sharpish.’

I gulped at the thought. Everything in Claude’s Antiques now belonged to me. But I was glad Pete had been able to help us out, though I hoped we wouldn’t need to use the solicitor’s services.

‘Oh, before I leave, John-Michael, I’m going to take you to open a bank account next week; you’ll be needing it to pay expenses, bills, and rates.’

‘Huh?’ He was saying things I’d never heard of before.

Grandad slammed his hand down on the table. ‘No, no. Absolutely not. He is not having a bank account. You can’t trust banks. That’s how the government keeps tabs on you, by checking what you spend your hard-earned cash on.’

Pete started laughing. ‘Come on, Stephen, do you trust me?’

‘Well, of course I do. I wouldn’t have let you marry Tina if I didn’t.’

I watched Pete frown at that. ‘Then this is what JC needs to do. What do you say?’ he said, turning his attention to me.

‘Okay.’ I said, much to Grandad’s disapproval.

Pete left us with a few business cards with the solicitor’s information, telling me to put one in my wallet, should I ever need it.

As we saw Pete out the door, PC Williams was walking up the drive. He tipped his head to Pete as they passed on another, and Grandad invited him to sit at the dining room table, rather than the kitchen one. He still had that weird look of amazement on his face as he sat down, surrounded by my mirrors. Mum cleared away the used cups but didn’t bring any fresh ones.

‘Stephen, John-Michael, I’ve come to give you a bit of an update, see’n as we’re mates and all that,’ he said.

‘I really appreciate you being with him down at the station. You know he didn’t do this,’ Grandad started saying.

PC Williams held his hand up. ‘I know that, mate, but I’m still the police, and I’m treading a fine line getting involved, what with how close we are. Anyway, it’s not me you need to convince, it’s the detectives that need winning over—plus the rest of the townsfolk. You know more than anything how they can be. People always judge first and ask questions later. They’ve already got him marked as guilty and are poised to throw away the key.’

‘I suspected as much,’ Grandad sighed. ‘We’re best off staying out of people’s way until things calm down a bit, aye, lad,’ he said to me.

‘Okay, Grandad.’ I chewed on my lip. Would the people in town chase after me like they had in my dream?

‘Anyway, for now, the detectives are treating this as a robbery gone wrong with this “Suit” fella as the prime suspect. However, John-Michael is still a person of interest, especially as he ran away from the scene.’

I looked down. I was mighty sorry about that.

‘I guess that’s good for now,’ said Grandad.

‘Well, I don’t know about that. You see, I’ve been asking around about this “Suit” man, and not one person I’ve spoken to recalls seeing him about town. Not the shop owners or other officers. Unless I can find someone who can validate John-Michael’s story, then we’ve only got his word for it.’

I slammed my hand on the table. ‘He is real, Grandad, he is! You need to find him, officer. Find out who he is!’

‘I know, John-Michael. You just leave that to us, young man. Now, they’ll have more questions for him at some point. They’ll probably want to ask him about what happened again. Sometimes memories come back, and he hasn’t signed a witness statement yet, either.’

Grandad sighed. ‘Fair enough, we’ll deal with that when it comes. Anything else?’

‘Yes. The crime scene investigators have finished. You might want to get down the shop and check on things, and I’d change the locks if I were you.’

Grandad’s eyebrow raised. ‘Have they? That was quick.’

‘I know. Far quicker than I expected for a murder. I just hope they’ve not taken any shortcuts in this. I’d hate to see young John-Michael get fingered for it over police incompetence,’ he said, putting a hand over his badge.

Grandad shook his head. ‘We have to hope it doesn’t come to that.’

‘I know I’m police and shouldn’t talk ill of my colleagues in blue, but I’ve seen it before when mistakes have been made. Anyway, enough of that talk. Have you told him about the shop?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, we told him about it yesterday.’

He nodded at me. ‘You’ve got some big shoes to fill, lad,’ he said.

‘I haven’t. Mr Phillips was a seven. I’m a nine.’

‘I didn’t mean that, son, it’s only a saying. What it means is, you’ve got to do a good job in your new position as owner.’

I nodded back.

‘Do your colleagues know he owns the shop now?’ Grandad asked.

‘Not yet, but they’re sure to find out soon enough. I best be off now. Got a stack of paperwork to finish. I’ll see myself out,’ he said, putting on his helmet. ‘I’ll keep you updated where I can, Stephen.’

‘Thanks, pal, I really do appreciate you sticking your neck on the line for John-Michael.’

He nodded and left.

Grandad stood from the table. ‘Right, come on then, son.’

I didn’t follow. ‘Why, where are we going?’

‘You heard the