The Toast of the Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book III)

Sticky Situation

In the next fortnight several gradual - and not so much - changes happened in Fleckney Woulds. Firstly, the unnaturally sunny Summer was stepping down, giving place to everyone's favourite Autumn, with its one or two days of golden leaves and crisp air, ever so quickly replaced by drizzling rain and grey skies. Secondly, Imogen's artistic career seemed to have sallied forth. Her first illustrations appeared in two local magazines, and one of her acrylic paintings had been sold in Guthrie's Gallery. Her latest watercolours were turned into a set of elegant postcards, and they had been purchased by two book shops in Abernathy, and the post offices of Fleckney Woulds and Lower Woulds. Imogen was busy but endlessly happy. And two more houses were burgled in the County of Fleckney.

One was the Ainsley Manor, which was neither a manor, nor did it belong to the Ainsleys anymore. Several years prior, a young couple from America had purchased it. He was in advertising, and his wife had owned a dog grooming salon in Florida before moving into Fleckney Woulds. The Darlings - which Imogen was starting to feel was quite a misnomer after dealing with their loud rude complaints, their endless visits to the Mayor's office, and their threats to 'go to the news and onto YouTube' - had been liberated of a collection of 'exclusive dog jewellery,' Mrs. Darling's diamonds, and Mr. Darling's collection of baseball cards - and 'honey, do you know how much it'll cash someone out on eBay?' Imogen didn't know - and could hardly see how anyone would willingly agree to be Mr. Darling's 'honey' unless they were being threatened with a gun. And then she'd remember she'd been in such a position twice - once while being locked up in an ice house, and the second time while taken hostage in Miss Rosa's tearooms. Imogen had to admit that she'd rather stare down the 24-inch barrel of Mrs. Roberts' shotgun again, may she rest in peace, than engage Mr. Darling socially in any way.

The second house that had not been technically burgled but was broken in was the Oakby Hall.

The children were already asleep, when Imogen's mobile rang. At the same time, the Mayor's Android started vibrating on the coffee table, and he paused How to Steal a Million they were watching on his Mac in front of them. They'd been lying on the sofa, he'd been spooning her, their new afghan thrown over them. Imogen untangled out of his embrace and picked up.

"Imogen, it's Petra," the archeologist announced hurriedly. "I'm just ringing you up to let you know everything's alright, so that you two don't worry about–"

"What happened?" the Mayor barked into his phone.

"No one's hurt, and really it was an adventure," Petra continued speaking quickly into Imogen's ear.

The Mayor sat up sharply. He was listening attentively, his eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown.

"Father, are you alright?" he finally spoke up, his voice harsh.

Imogen slightly moved her phone away from her ear, and she could hear Mr. Oakby Snr's lazy baritone in the Mayor's Samsung.

"I'll be there immediately," the Mayor said.

"–and then John said, 'Do you hear something?'" Petra had been apparently informing Imogen about whatever the Mayor had been just informed of.

"Petra, I think we're coming to the Hall," Imogen said to the archaeologist. "Could you hold, please."

The Mayor jumped off the sofa.

"I'm going," he said to Imogen quickly. "You can't." He pointed towards the children's bedrooms. "There's been a break in."

"If you need me here, I can ask Mrs. Haruna to step in for a bit," Imogen said. Mrs. Haruna was their elderly neighbour, who occasionally babysat the little'uns. Imogen looked at the watch, it was half past eleven. "It is late, but it's an emergency."