Chapter Eleven
T illy had had a sleepless night. She’d fled from choir practice just as soon as she was able, not wanting to have to face Sophie again. No was no, and she was fully comfortable with that. But she didn’t want to have to look at her for longer than she had to.
She could bite her tongue when she thought about touching her. When she thought about how warm and soft Sophie’s chest had felt, how her breath had filled her up. Tilly had barely been able to stand up straight. Yeah, she needed to not do that again. There was no point dancing up to the line. The line had been drawn; it was clear; she had to respect it.
The flip side of all of this was that she’d had plenty of time to think about work. So, once she was showered and dressed the next morning, she went down into the main house.
“This is a surprise,” Mila said. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that already had an orange juice stain on it.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Tilly said, suddenly thinking she might be intruding. “Only you did say…”
“Mind?” Mila laughed. “It’s a joy to have someone at the table who can talk about things other than piano playing and Pokemon. Take a seat. I’ll get you some coffee. Want some toast?”
“Just cereal is okay.”
“Then help yourself,” Mila said.
Tilly, who had been hoping to talk to Max, found herself sitting down at a sticky table opposite Dash and next to Ag. “Good morning,” she said politely.
“Would you rather have Kartana or Koraidon?” Dash demanded as she sat down.
“Um, I’d rather have Cocoa Pops if you’ve got those?” said Tilly.
Ag rolled her eyes. “He’s talking about Pokemon. Again.” She handed Tilly a yellow cereal box. “Did you do choir last night? What are you singing? Was it good? Isn’t Billy lovely?”
“Ms. Brooke,” Mila said firmly. “Please don’t use her first name without permission. It’s rude.”
Ag rolled her eyes again. “So?” she asked Tilly.
“Ms. Brooke is very nice, we’re singing lots of things, and choir was… very nice, thank you,” said Tilly.
“Can I come with you next time?” Ag asked, making her big blue eyes wider and fluttering her lashes. “Please?”
“No kids,” Tilly said gravely. Ag’s face fell. “But I can get you VIP seats to the concert,” added Tilly.
Ag grinned. “That’d be ace, thanks. And if you want, you can come to one of my concerts. I’m going to have a big competition soon.”
“Maybe,” Mila said.
“Maybe,” said Ag, but she didn’t look like that was a maybe.
“Really?” asked Tilly, pouring milk over her cereal.
“Yeah, it’s really cool and maybe I could win a big grand piano and maybe go to the conservatory school even though mum and dad say that it’s better to be on the ground or something.”
“It’s better to stay grounded,” Mila said, putting coffee in front of Tilly. “As in, we need to keep our options open and not spend all day, every day, playing the piano.”
“Which sounds awesome,” said Ag dreamily.
Tilly glanced at Mila, who looked suddenly tired and a little pale, worried perhaps. Bringing up two such energetic kids must be pretty draining, she thought. The Brownings had been kind to her, they didn’t have to put her up in their home. She could have been in one of those horrible business hotel places.
She coughed and dug her spoon into her bowl. “Um, if you and Max want to go out one night, I could babysit,” she said. She looked over at the two kids. “Once these two are in bed, of course,” she added, because she wasn’t sure she could handle them both awake if she was alone.
“That’s very kind,” Mila said. “We might take you up on that.” She turned to her children. “Come on, I’m going to change this shirt and then we’re out of here. Leave the table and get your school things ready. Two minutes, chop-chop.”
Mila and Max passed each other as she left and Max came in. He swooped down and kissed both his children before ruffling their hair and sending them out to get their schoolbags. Then he sat down at the table and pulled cereal toward himself. “Sleep alright?” he grinned at Tilly.
“Great,” Tilly lied. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Max, busy getting himself some breakfast. “What about?”
“Stealing cars.”
“Um, wouldn’t advise it,” Max said. “It can be dangerous and you’ll probably end up in trouble with the police.”
“Ha ha,” Tilly said. “No, I was thinking about your stolen car problem. And I think you need to pursue it from the other side.”
Max put his spoon down and looked interested. “How do you mean?”
“Well, we’re not getting anything from the theft sites,” Tilly said. “So perhaps we should look at where the cars might end up. I mean, you don’t steal a car to do nothing with it, do you?”
“I could add them to the port watchlists,” Max said doubtfully. “I mean, a lot of cars get shipped out to Europe and then sold. But those are luxury vehicles, not the kind of cars that are being stolen around here.”
“No, you were right before,” said Tilly, warming to her theme. “They’re being stolen to be scrapped or for parts or whatever else. I doubt they’re going far afield. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that all the cars are staying pretty local. There’s no point wasting time and petrol money taking them anywhere, is there?”
“Fair enough,” said Max. He poured milk on his cereal. “So?”
“So, I think we need to start looking at local garages. Those seem the most likely places that the cars are going to end up. Not the chain places, but small, family-run, independent places. Have a look around, see what’s what, keep an eye on them. Ten to one, the cars are going to pass through somewhere like that.”
Max nodded, looking impressed. “Good thinking. Yeah, I like that.” He looked at Tilly, then grinned. “How about you take over the investigation, then?”
“As in, it’s my case?” Tilly asked, stomach flipping over.
“All yours,” said Max. “I’m here to consult when you need me, but this one can be yours. Give it a go and see what you find out.”
Tilly was smiling so hard her face might break in half. Only a constable and trusted with her own investigation? That was unthinkable. Except maybe in a small place like this. Which was why, she realized, her father had been so gung-ho about her taking the assignment. Unusual opportunities. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “I won’t let you down.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” said Max. He sipped at some juice. “There are a few garages around town, though, so this won’t be easy.”
“Anyone in particular I should know about?”
Max shrugged. “There’s always the Farmers, over on the east side of main street.”
“Yeah?”
“They’ve danced on the wrong side of the law in the past, father and son out there, but nothing recent. Bit of a sad story, really. He, Paul, the father, was married to an Italian. Carmella, her name was. Good singer, by the way. She died young, ovarian cancer. They caught it when she was pregnant with their youngest and she refused treatment until the kid was born. Made it another handful of years then, well… Paul was left with two young kids to bring up and a business to run.”
“Which doesn’t excuse law breaking,” Tilly said tartly.
“It doesn’t,” agreed Max. “But it does put a human face on things. You can be as by the book as you like, but don’t forget that these are people that you’re dealing with.”
Tilly nodded. “I know. I got the message. I’ll look into these people. Farmer is the last name, right?”
Max nodded. “It’s only a tip, though. I haven’t seen anything to make me suspicious. If this is going on somewhere local, isn’t it more likely to be somewhere outside of town, more isolated, easier to hide things?”
“Good thinking,” Tilly said, nodding and mentally moving the Farmer garage down her priority list a couple of spots.
“Go on then,” Max said with a grin. “I know you’ll want to phone your dad with the news. Give him my regards and don’t be late to the station.”
Tilly jumped up from the table. “I won’t be,” she promised as she rushed upstairs to get her phone.
“Excellent work,” her father said when she told him. “I’m proud of you. Nothing less than what I expected, of course.”
“This is turning out better than I thought,” Tilly confessed.
Her father laughed. “Now you just need to run a clean investigation. I know you’ve got the knowledge, but you don’t have the experience yet. So don’t be afraid to ask for help. Make sure everything’s documented and don’t be tempted to cut corners or mess around in gray areas.”
“Right,” said Tilly, who knew all that but didn’t mind being reminded. “I’m on it.”
She was so pleased that when she put the phone down, she gave an uncharacteristic squeal of joy. Her very own investigation. She sat on the edge of her bed and tried to calm down. The same bed where she’d spent a sleepless night thinking about Sophie turning her down.
Maybe that had all been for the best, though. After all, there should be no gray areas, as her father said. Sophie could well be one of those. She had friends in town, she could forewarn people or hide information or any one of a number of complications. At the very least, she’d be a distraction, and Tilly didn’t need any of that.
So maybe it was better that Sophie had turned her down flat. Tilly tried very hard to believe that. But it didn’t take the sting out of what had happened. Enough so that she wondered if she really wanted to go back to choir. Maybe she should just concentrate on her new investigation.