Official Town Business (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book I)

Three Birds

The next morning, after a sleepless night of tossing and turning in her bed, and anxious glances towards Ms. Sanders' paper bag that had been seated in the old armchair in Imogen's bedroom and gleamed in the dark like the Canterville ghost, Imogen decisively walked into the office,and marched to the Mayor's door. She knocked, and he invited her in.

"Mr. Oakby, I have an emergency. I— Could I request the second half of the day off?"

He looked up at her, from some papers scattered on his table. She could understand his confusion - she'd never done anything even remotely as irregular.

"Of course." He gave her a scrutinising look. "Is there something I could do? Is it the children?"

She shook her head. "It's not exactly personal, but I can't tell you what's it about. But it's important." 

His blue eyes were calm.

"Of course, Imogen. Whatever you need." He gave her a fleeting warm smile, and went back to reading.

That felt amazing. Imogen told herself not to read too much into his behaviour - but he said 'whatever you need!' He trusted her, trusted her judgement. He didn't try to ask a hundred questions, or impose some 'help' onto 'poor Mops who was just too clumsy and a doormat.'

She picked up the paper bag from under her desk, pressed it to her chest, and walked to the bus stop. She was invited into DI Balinson's office after waiting for just twenty minutes.

In those twenty minutes Imogen decided to follow the example of a certain endlessly sexy gentleman - she'd always been quite sapiosexual, so what does it matter that according to the Internet said gentleman had an otter face? - and find out the 'features of interest' in her current predicament. The feature of interest number one was the china Isabela, which was closely related to the second issue on Imogen's busy mental agenda - the question of Mr. Oakby Snr expecting her to accept his invitation for 'tea and a chat.' Both of these birds were to be decisively ended in with one rock, Imogen decided.

She edged into Balinson's office, and shook his hand, still pressing her undesired loot to her chest with her left one. The DI pointed at the chair across his table, and Imogen tucked herself in. She took a deep breath and started on the feature of interest 'numero tres.'

"Inspector, I think— I suspect that— I might be aware of who could be involved into Mrs. Fitzroy's death."

The Inspector didn't express even a tinge of surprise. He simply pulled out some form from a folder on his desk and clicked with a pen.

"I'm listening, Ms. Fox."

Imogen sighed and gave him a miserable look. "I have no proof, to be honest. It just all makes sense, and I normally would go to Andrew to discuss it, like I always have, but I feel he must be quite cross with me these days."

The Inspector's dark eyes twinkled under his snow white, bushy eyebrows. "He does seem to be rather dischuffed these days. I'd rather you not dispirit my best sergeant, Ms. Fox."

Imogen sighed and shifted on the chair. 

"You see, Inspector, I have already checked, and there're no copies of those papers, so I couldn't possibly prove what exactly is missing." Imogen looked up and saw polite but confused expression on the DI's face. "Oh dear, sorry," she said. "I tend to—" She wiggled her fingers near her temple.

"Ah yes, Cooper mentioned your mind 'zig-zags.'"

That stung. Imogen didn't enjoy feeling as if there were something wanting in her thinking.

"There are several buildings in Fleckney Woulds that are protected by the Conservation Act 2009, and their sale and renovations are additionally regulated by the wills of their previous owners. The house that's occupied by the Mrs. and Ms. Sanders' book shop is one of them. You see, they're planning to sell it, and have already had the permits for pre-sale renovations approved by the Mayor's office. And Mrs. Fitzroy was on the preservation committee, and actually, her branch was in charge of this exact part of the town."