Graham flicks through it. ‘A talented girl.’
‘Yes.’
‘Somewhat familiar in style to the drawing I found in the scarecrow’s pockets. Seems like it was a prized possession of hers. I doubt she would have left town without it.’
‘My thoughts exactly. You know, Detective, you and I are scarily similar.’
‘Scarily similar?’
‘Yes.’
Graham doesn’t press further for what that may mean, but he’s inclined to agree. Who knew that two people at opposite ends of the spectrum could share so many similarities?
‘By the way, Detective, it appears your car has a flat tyre.’ Stephen points towards it, parked next to the garage.
Graham frowns, walking over there. He reaches the car and stops dead in his tracks. Mr Mallow is mistaken. It isn’tone tyre that’s flat, but all four. In fact, they aren’t just flat, but slashed, mostly likely with a very sharp, very big knife.
A message is also scratched into the paintwork along the driver’s side.
Stop. Looking. For. Her.
Mr Mallow joins him and they stare at the message. ‘When the threatening messages start, you know you’re on the right track.’
‘Indeed,’ replies Graham, scratching his rough beard. Perhaps whoever did this was the same person who’d crawled through the tiny window into the garage and propped the scarecrow into a sitting position to scare him. Someone is having fun at his expense.
Graham books a callout from the local garage to come and change all the tyres, but they won’t arrive until tomorrow. It’s too late in the day to visit now, apparently. He has one tyre spare, but not four. Strangely, Mr Mallow’s car is untouched.
‘Will you be driving to meet Mr Hammel later?’ Graham asks.
‘Yes. I don’t know how late I’ll be, so I don’t want to walk back in the dark.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘So … about your boarded up window,’ says Mr Mallow, pointing.
Graham frowns. ‘Ah, yes. I’d forgotten about that.’
‘It doesn’t belong there.’
‘Yes, you said that before. I’m inclined to agree.’
‘I have another hunch.’
Graham grumbles about what Mr Mallow can do with hishunches. Graham knows there are two bedrooms; one at the back and one at the front, as well as a bathroom upstairs and a small window on the main landing at the top of the stairs.
‘Come on then, Mr Mallow. It seems we can’t rest until we’ve figured out this next mystery.’
He heads inside and climbs the stairs two at a time, regretting his decision by the time he reaches the top one. He desperately needs to join a gym or an exercise class or something. Walking a few miles each day isn’t cutting it. Not that there are any gyms around here, but he’s always liked the idea of joining one. It’s the thought that counts, after all, right?
He heads to the dead-end hallway; the area that has never made sense in his head. Footsteps sound on the stairs behind him, followed by a breathless Mr Mallow.
‘As you can see, Detective, there doesn’t appear to be a room up here which leads to the boarded-up window,’ says Mr Mallow, gesturing at the hallway that leads nowhere.
Graham nods. ‘It’s certainly odd, I’ll give you that.’
‘Odd, yes.’
‘A secret room, perhaps, that’s also been boarded up?’ Graham asks.
