Juno Jones Investigates

“What do you want?” she’d asked him.

“Can I see you? Could we go out for a drink?”

“So Isabel’s dumped you, has she? Or are you still a two-timing rat?”

“It isn’t… look, it’s not like that. I miss seeing you, that’s all.”

“Well I can’t say the feeling’s mutual. Goodbye.”

Marion had slammed the phone down more forcefully than was necessary, though after she’d hung up on him, she felt a tiny twinge of regret. Now she sat at her desk at Beech Brothers, contemplating the day ahead with even less enthusiasm than usual. She brightened a little when Carol appeared with two steaming coffees from the machine.

“Did you go to Frank’s do on Friday?” said Carol, depositing a plastic cup of foul-smelling liquid on Marion’s desk.

“Uh-huh.”

“So? What happened?”

“Nothing much. Apart from Victor chatting me up.”

“I’ve told you, don’t encourage him. He thinks you mean it.”

“So what if he does?”

Carol tutted and leant over her desk.

“What about MM?” she said.

“Waste of time. Me and Christine waited for ages, but he never showed his face. We gave it a couple of hours, then we left.”

“He didn’t come to work that day. Maybe he was ill or something?”

“Or maybe he just couldn’t be arsed.”

Carol sat down and sipped her coffee. Last Friday was meant to sort things out, to clear the air in the office and make everything go back to normal. Now she’d have to do it herself. She sighed and hoped it wouldn’t get awkward. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings – though MM was the sensitive type, and bound to take it badly – but she knew that something had to be done.

“D’you reckon he’ll be in this morning?”

“Search me. Maybe he’ll turn up at lunchtime. You know, like he usually does.”

“What about Christine?”

“At the dentist’s. They’re going to straighten her teeth, she says. God knows when I’m going to get my dockets.”

For the next two hours, the morning dragged. Eleven o’clock had come and gone, and with it a packet of custard creams, when Ted pushed his trolley into the office.

“Morning, ladies!”

“Morning, Ted,” said Carol.

Marion nodded curtly as she peered into the filing cabinet. Had she filed them under B for biscuits, or maybe under F for fig rolls?

“You missed a real treat on Friday,” said Ted. “You should have seen the look on Frank’s face when Roy turned up and started to strip! Stitched up like a kipper, he was. It’s a pity MM wasn’t there.”

Carol gave a non-committal smile and rummaged in her drawer for a ruler.

“He chickened out,” said Marion, as she fished her fig rolls from the drawer (filed under E for emergencies). “Like the useless article he is.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Ted said. “He was in a right state on Friday morning.”

Carol put the ruler down.

“You saw him on Friday morning?” she said. “He wasn’t in the office that day.”

“He turned up just before seven o’clock. I almost didn’t recognise him. He had a split lip, a big black eye and a lump on his head the size of an egg. And blood and sick all down his front.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“He couldn’t say much on account of his lip, and what he did say didn’t make sense. Not quite compos mentis, if you ask me. From what I could tell, he’d got into a fight. ‘What with, a bleedin’ rottweiler?’ I said. Nothing – not even a smile. I gave him a clean shirt and patched him up, and said I’d tell Frank he was ill. That’s the last I saw of him.”

“He’s not in this morning either,” said Carol. “I hope he’s okay.”

“’Course he is!” said Marion. “He’s not sick, he’s just swinging the lead.”

As she tucked into her second fig roll, Ted leant on his trolley and turned back to Carol. She smiled and prepared to fake interest in whatever yarn he was going to spin, whether she wanted to hear it or not.

“Like I said, you missed a real treat on Friday. Roy was halfway through his act when Suave Dave and Victor fell out the Gents and started scrapping on the floor…”

Carol listened whilst barely paying attention, as she often did at work, and ten minutes later Ted trundled off. Peace was restored in the office, broken only by the tapping of typewriter keys and the whirr of the adding machine.

As the morning drifted slowly towards lunchtime, both Marion and Carol felt anxious, although for entirely different reasons. Carol was worried about MM – how badly was he hurt, how did he get his injuries in the first place, and what would happen when he returned? Marion was more concerned by the absence of her precious dockets. Christine still wasn’t back from the dentist, and if she didn’t turn up soon she’d have to go and collect them herself. As the long hands of the office clock twitched and shivered their way towards half past twelve, she put her pen down and turned to Carol.

“I’ve had enough. D’you fancy a quick one?”

Carol needed no persuading, and they set off for the Two Anchors together.

Juno’s day had begun with a confrontation, or at least a frank exchange of views. Planning to catch Allan unawares, she’d approached him as he left his office and headed for the photocopier.

“Allan…”

He turned, looking slightly startled.

“Juno… what can I do for you?”

Keeping the details as vague as possible, she told him about her Silver Street lead and asked if she could follow it up. As she’d started on the story already, she hoped he’d be inclined to agree. But Allan wasn’t playing ball.

“Today’s Councillor Harrison’s funeral,” he said. “Who’s going to cover that?”

“Who says we have to cover it?”

“He was Chairman of the Council, Juno.”

“Then why not send Daniel?”

“Daniel’s busy. He’s got more important things to do. Not that funerals aren’t important, of course… but he’s working on something already.”

“So am I. Are you saying that doesn’t matter?”

Allan saw Juno’s steely stare and tried to be conciliatory.

“You’re a bright girl, Juno. I don’t want you to think…”

“But I do think, Allan. Is that the problem?”

Allan squirmed and turned slightly red in the face. Why couldn’t she just co-operate? It was all very well for Head Office to insist they take on a female trainee, but they didn’t have to deal with her, did they? As he sighed and turned his eyes to the floor, Juno decided to compromise.

“Okay, I’ll do the funeral. But I’ll check my lead out afterwards. Deal?”

“All right,” said Allan, reluctantly. “But let me know…”

“Of course. You’re the boss.”

It took the rest of the morning for Juno to go home, change into something sombre and attend the funeral of possibly the most venal Chairman ever to grace the chain of office. Then she took the bus to Beech Brothers – a dirty, grim, Dickensian building with red brick walls and narrow windows. The bus-stop seemed the ideal place to keep an eye on its big green doors, so she loitered at the end of the queue and let one bus after another go past. She knew what she was looking for – in the Fish the previous evening, she and Glynis had hatched a plan.

“Let’s assume his initials are MM, and that he works at Beech Brothers,” said Glynis. “Next step is to case the joint.”

“We’re not going to rob it, are we? Can’t you just talk normally?”

Glynis ignored her and carried on.

“And we should draw up a profile. If he’s taking headed notepaper home, he probably works in the office. So most likely the people he works with are female, maybe in their twenties or thirties, and they’ll be wearing office-type clothes. Hang around at lunchtime, and if you spot someone who fits the bill, chat her up and pump her for information.”

She sighed.

“I wish I was coming too. If I’d known, I’d have had the day off.”

It seemed like a decent plan to Juno, so she hung around at the bus-stop and fixed her eyes on Beech Brothers’ big green doors. She ignored the lads in stained overalls who poured through the doors at twelve o’clock, and a couple of managers in grey suits. But shortly after half past twelve, she spotted two young women who seemed to fit the profile exactly. Peeling away from the bus-stop queue, she followed them across the road and into the lounge bar of the Two Anchors.

She sat in a corner and watched as each of them downed a glass of dry white wine, then followed as they went back to the bar. The Two Anchors was quiet on Mondays, so it was easy for Juno to listen in without having to stand too close to them.

“You worry too much, Carol. He’ll stroll in tomorrow, right as rain.”

“But something must have happened. Why on earth would he get into a fight?”

“Maybe somebody stole his paperclips?”

“Marion, this is serious. He might be wandering round the streets, or lying at home unconscious. We should do something.”

“Like what?”

As they fished their purses from their bags, Juno decided to take her chance.

“’Scuse me,” she said. “I couldn’t help hearing. Do you work at Beech Brothers?”

Marion turned and looked at her.

“Maybe,” she said. “What’s it to you?”

“And were you talking about… MM?”

Juno knew she’d hit the bullseye when she saw the look on Marion’s face, a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

“So what if we were?”

“Maybe I can help you.”

Carol glanced at Marion, who raised a sceptical eyebrow before she nodded at an adjacent table. As they sat down, Juno leaned towards them and assumed her most confidential tone.

“I’ve heard there was an incident. At number thirteen, Silver Street.”

Carol rummaged in her bag and pulled out a crumpled postcard. On one side was a roughly-drawn map, and beneath it a scribbled address and directions. 

“Thirteen, Silver Street,” she read. “Look, Marion, it must be him.”

Marion still seemed wary as she looked at the postcard, then at Juno.

“What happened?” she asked.

“He was hurt – quite badly. They had to call an ambulance.”

“Is he all right?” said Carol. “Was it something to do with the fight?”

“What fight?”

“Ted – he’s our Despatch Manager – said he turned up early on Friday morning, and somebody had beaten him up. Ted sorted him out and sent him home, but nobody’s seen him ever since.”

“Does he often get into fights?”

“God, no. He’s the last person…”

Juno took a sip of her drink and slipped her notebook from her bag.

“You don’t mind if I take notes, do you? Otherwise I’m bound to forget.”

Marion narrowed her eyes at her.

“Who are you? And why are you asking questions?”

Juno had thought about this in advance, but hadn’t come up with a plausible story. A random witness? A former girlfriend? Both of these were risky, and though Carol might not be hard to convince, Marion was a different kettle of fish. She turned and looked directly at her.

“I’m Juno,” she said. “I’m a trainee reporter.”

Marion’s eyes grew narrower as she glanced at her black skirt and top.

“I’ve just been to a funeral.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“S’alright. We weren’t that close.”

“I still want to know what you’re up to, though.”

“I’m trying to find out what happened,” said Juno. “I thought you might be able to help.”

Seeing Marion hesitate, Juno played the only card she had left.

“Look, I really need this story. I’m the only female reporter, and nobody takes me seriously. Daniel gets all the decent leads, and they give me the fetes and jumble sales. You know what it’s like, don’t you?”

Marion glanced through the window at the vacant eyes of Beech Brothers.

“All right,” she said, “but we can’t talk now. If I don’t collect those bloody dockets… Come back on Thursday, after work. That suit you, Carol?”

Carol nodded. Marion picked up her bag and headed for the door, but Carol lingered at the table with Juno.

“Do you know what happened to him?”

Juno felt obliged to share what she knew. She leaned forward, and as she whispered to Carol, her face turned from pale to deathly white.

“My God!” she said. “He cut it off?”

“That’s what I was told.”

As Carol gripped the edge of the table, Marion called to her from the door.

“Come on! We haven’t got all day.”

“Go without me,” Carol said. “I think I need another drink.”

“You sure? I’ll stay if you like…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a minute. If Frank asks, tell him I’ve got a headache.”

Marion glanced at Juno, then at Carol, then back at Juno again before swinging the door of the Two Anchors open and crossing the road towards Beech Brothers.

After Juno had bought Carol a gin – expensive, but worth the investment, she thought – and a glass of orange juice for herself, they sat back at the table.

“I’m sorry if it came as a shock.”

“That’s okay. I can’t think what to say.”

“D’you know why he might have done it?”

“I can’t imagine… I’ve got no idea.”

Carol took a sip of her gin.

“Has he been acting strangely lately?”

“No more than usual.”

“What d’you mean?”

“He gets worked up about little things – if someone re-arranges his desk, or hides his hole-puncher. Things like that. He takes everything to heart, especially when Frank teases him. Frank doesn’t mean anything by it, but…”

“What about the last week or so? Was there anything out of the ordinary?”

Carol swilled the ice around in her glass, looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice.

“Marion knows already, but I couldn’t say it in front of her. She’s already told me how stupid I was.”

She hesitated and looked at Juno, who gave a reassuring smile.

“Last Wednesday morning, he asked me out. Nothing special, just to Frank’s birthday do, the same night as the… incident. He wanted to have a drink at his flat before we went to the pub together. That’s why I had his address in my bag. You don’t think…”

“I don’t know what to think. What did you say to him?”

“It was awkward. I try to be nice to him at work, but that’s because I feel sorry for him. He must have thought it was something else.”

“And it wasn’t?”

“God, no – nothing like that. But I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I didn’t exactly say no. Me and Marion talked about it and decided I’d stay home on Friday, and she’d go to Frank’s do with Christine.”

“Christine?”

“She’s the new trainee. She only started last Monday, but she’s been making cow’s eyes at him all week. We thought maybe if we got them together…”

Carol stopped for another mouthful of gin.

“But this morning Marion told me that he never turned up on Friday night. And now I know what happened… it’s awful. I can’t help thinking it’s my fault. If I’d just said I’d go out with him…”

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Carol.”

“Christine’s going to be so upset. Oh God, this is such a mess…”

She looked as if she might burst into tears, but with the aid of another swig of gin she managed to compose herself. Juno smiled sympathetically before looking down at her notebook.

“So he didn’t come to the pub on Friday night – the last time anyone saw him was on Friday morning, when he turned up at work after somebody had beaten him up?”

“That’s right.”

“Can you think of anything else?”

Carol glanced at the clock behind the bar and polished off the rest of her gin.

“Don’t think so. But I’ll see you on Thursday. And thanks very much… you know, for listening.”

Stowing her notebook in her bag, Juno followed Carol onto the pavement.

Back at her desk at Beech Brothers, Marion heaved a sigh as she looked around at the empty office chairs. She was hoping to see MM or Christine, but as neither of them had arrived she’d have to fetch the dockets herself. Though it wasn’t exactly an onerous task, it went against her principles. It was their job to collect the dockets, and her job to collate the data and record it in the file for each order. That was how things worked in the office, and anything else was anarchy.

Their absence did nothing for her morale. The look on her face was so thunderous as she stomped around the factory, that none of the lads even dared to whistle. Until she reached Roy, anyway, who made an hourglass shape with his hands and put two fingers between his lips. Marion smiled sarcastically and gestured him to step into the warehouse, where they could hear each other talk.

“Have you seen MM? He’s not in today.”

Roy took a moment to think.

“Not since Thursday.”

“You’ve not taken him to the Cruel Sea again?”

Roy smiled.

“Not this week. Why are you asking?”

“He’s left me to do the bloody dockets. Nobody knows where he is, and there’s some local reporter asking about him. She says something happened on Friday night.”

“Maybe he ran off with a sailor.”

“He could have done my dockets first.”

Roy laughed and returned to his glistening machine as Marion continued her round, heading for Ted’s dark underworld.