Annie Butcher's Jigsaw

By Trafford Publishing

This is a detective novel with a difference as Annie Butcher is a very reluctant detective. She insists she is a teacher, she knows she is a successful one and she does not want to be drawn into anything else. She is too busy and she has other worries such as a wayward daughter and she is trying to keep an eye on her unsavory landlord, fishy one of her friends calls him. But, when one of her pupils dies under suspicious circumstances and another is mugged, she finds herself drawn deeper into a mystery involving drug dealing and people smuggling. Her life is placed in grave danger one stormy night on a wild beach.

Will Annie solve the jigsaw puzzle and will her friendship with the charming Chief Inspector develop into something more? This is the first of the Annie Butcher Mysteries introducing readers to the stoic Annie and her haphazard friends and family, the sequels will be following shortly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466975101

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

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I DON’T EVEN LOOK LIKE Miss Marple, said Annie, looking at herself in the staff-room mirror of the George Pound School.

Why are you talking to yourself, did you know you were? And why do you want to look like Miss Marple? asked Maggie Hurst, the recently appointed Head, she spoke from a hidden corner where she was rummaging in a cupboard. It’s bad for you living on your own, why don’t you come to supper?

As Annie didn’t reply but continued to pull out a few grey hairs from her short cropped hair, Maggie repeated, Why do you want to look like Miss Marple?

Something is wrong in the flat, I can feel it and Miss Marple would have sorted it out in no time, it’s just the sort of thing that would have appealed to her but to me it’s unfathomable. What I mean is, I can’t put a finger on it, it’s just a prickly feeling.

It must be bad to have you talking to yourself, what is this prickly feeling? asked Maggie as she gathered up some papers she had found. Must you live there? she added.

It’s my landlord, I’m being watched and I want to know why, replied Annie, also preparing to depart and gathering up books before collecting her class and opening up the Biology laboratory.

I just wish I were a detective, she said as she opened the door.

Detectives, shouted Maggie after her, you should see the book Lance picked up left by one of the music students at the College, You should read it, my goodness, talk about sex … The bell rang.

Unbridled sex, came Maggie’s voice down the corridor.

Annie’s class, who were waiting for her, were all agog, she hadn’t seen so much interest for some time, some even had mouths open.

Well, why not! thought Annie as she unlocked the lab door, locked ever since some bright school leavers had thought a fire would be good fun. After all, I am the biology teacher and perhaps they are ready for Darwin at last.

Her class settled with remarkable and unusual speed, there was a slight reshuffling going on which Annie decided to ignore, her lesson was unprepared and her mind occupied, so that finding some of the larger disturbers of the peace, who preferred to reign at the back, had now pushed out some reluctant smaller fry and were settled in positions of superior audibility, she went straight into her subject.

Sex, said Annie firmly, is the basis … No trouble today, she thought as she continued her lesson to an attentive class. Not quite so attentive when they realized that the subject was academic and not a discussion on the various postures. Perhaps in future, she thought, I should take more notice of the goings on at the back. She was not sure but suspicious that there was a girl there she’d never seen before.

Maggie was in the staff room when Annie returned to it.

How did it go? asked Maggie with a smile.

Better than the last one, replied Annie for in this previous lesson she had decided on a meaningful discussion and it had ended in a near fight after environmental issues had been the subject, such remarks as My Dad can’t do without his car; "Do you mean WALK to school?";

I don’t like trees anyway; What would my dog do without a tree?; I hate gardening; I don’t eat dead flesh; and the final observation from someone near the window, Look there’s Kevin going home! brought more attention than the important points of the lesson.

‘Thank God for the bell,’ thought Annie as she felt she had not achieved as much as she would like! Perhaps these meaningful discussions would make more serious headway in the sixth form.

At home time as Annie was preparing to leave, Sheila York, who taught Geography, bustled into the staff room, I meant to tell you this morning, she said to Maggie, There was a girl in my class who didn’t belong.

Its Friday, TGIF, replied Maggie, Tell me again at the staff meeting next week.

Caroline Boots, a teacher of food technology or domestic science as she preferred to call it, joined in, I saw her—I told her to go away! She’d no right in my class, I’ve enough to do without extra people. I’m not happy about it, she said belligerently to anyone who would listen but the weekend loomed ahead and nobody did.

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Annie was a widow living alone in a dreary location in equally dreary apartments, called a flat by her Asian landlord. Annie dreaded the weekends but she realized now that the fault was entirely her own. Her husband, Bernard, a maths lecturer at the nearby college, had been killed in a motorway pile-up. It was nearly a year now and she was beginning to feel quietly unhappy and no longer sunk in despair. She tried not to think of the details of his death. They had been nearing their silver wedding anniversary and were already planning a special holiday to celebrate.

Italy? Greece? suggested Bernard.

Kenya? responded Annie, the time had been full of possibilities, of happiness and well-being. Suddenly she had been alone and desolate. While this feeling lasted she had looked for a gloomy spot to wallow in her own misery. Now, looking back, she began to see her mistake and to wish that she had listened to family, friends and neighbours and not been so hasty. Her next door neighbours, Dudley and Rose Russell had pleaded relentlessly, For us as well as you, Dudley said, Anyone might buy this place, look at the work you and Bernard have put into it.

I don’t want to look at it, that’s the whole point, replied Annie, Don’t you understand, we did it together, I can’t go on doing it alone or being here alone.

You’ll regret it, said Dudley heavily, Don’t do anything stupid.

Of course I shan’t do anything stupid, replied Annie, convinced that she wouldn’t. She admitted now, both to the regret and the stupidity but so far only to herself.

Their son and daughter Joel and Sally had returned for the funeral. Joel was working in Canada and had also urged his mother not to be hasty but Sally who had been busy ‘doing-her-own-thing somewhere in India" was inclined to be argumentative even though she probably agreed.

She’ll do what she wants, she told Joel.

But don’t you agree? he protested.

It doesn’t matter if I agree to not, she’ll still do what she wants. Everyone should do their own thing.

Joel gave up defeated, he felt that Sally had been too long drifting. An older brother, now with a settled income, was inclined to be impatient with a not sure what I want to do, does it matter? sort of sister.

Annie closed her ears to all discussion and entreaties. It’s my own affair, she told herself and proceeded to sell the house, this was well maintained and in early summer the garden was looking its best. They lived on the outskirts of a big Midland town and the property was sold the same week that Annie put it on the market. She had no time for regrets.

Finding somewhere to live that suited her mood had also proved surprisingly easy. An unexpected parking space outside the newsagent where she occasionally bought a magazine or sweets motivated her to stop and study the window adverts. Among the motley collection, some many shabby, offering massage, unwanted furniture or garden help, was a neatly written card, obviously newly inserted as it was so clean. It said: Unfurnished flat to let to one quiet good professional lady. Is this sexist? Annie thought, or against the law, and what is the profession, that of being a lady? There was a phone number and Annie rang this, went to view what proved to be a cheerless flat, paid the deposit and agreed to pay the rent immediately although she was not at all ready to move.

The flat was part of an unexciting block of terraced houses in a dull uncared for road, the houses were all much the same, no attempt had been made to individualize them, walls were broken, there were no flowers. Cars, most of them shabby, were parked in the road, Annie made no reference to her car when she viewed the flat under the surveillance of her new landlord.

I am Mr Azif Kasari, he told her, and I am not wanting any noise. He led her up a steep flight of brown stained stairs, these led from a small vestibule with a closed door on the left, it was dark on the stairs and not over-clean. A door on the right at the top of the stairs led into the flat, another closed door on the left led, so Mr Kasari informed her, to another flat. A corridor on the right seemed to lead nowhere. The flat was a strange shape but the main bed-sitting room was surprisingly pleasant, looked out onto the road, had double glazing and clean cream walls. There was a small kitchen and an equally small shower room. It had obviously been recently redecorated and fitted. Annie did not ask about planning permission, probably not, she thought, but it’s not my business. As there was no garage Annie again did not mention her car. Why didn’t I? she thought later, and why was I suspicious even then, was it because the rent was so low?

He was anxious that I should take it, she told Maggie later. Why, I now ask?

Because, replied Maggie, because, or perhaps, you look the height of respectability.

"Annie questioned this and was slightly amused at the idea, at the time she felt this place to be some form of shelter from her other life, she had rejected all other emotions save that of her unhappiness, and only wanted to be away from all that had been before and to find somewhere to hide with her personal blackness. There would be the whole of the school summer holidays to move and mourn. She had held on to one thing—her teaching and the school.

Take time off Maggie had said and Annie had replied.

That’s the last thing I want to do, I don’t need time to think.

Now she thought—it was a curious mixture of emotions that I didn’t recognize.

Joel had managed some compassionate leave and was able to stay awhile and help even though he was horrified at her arrangements, both her move and her new flat.

Sally had wandered off again, The atmosphere isn’t right for me here, she told Annie. Joel opened his mouth to give a sarcastic brotherly opinion but was silenced by a look from Annie.

She had made it so plain that she didn’t want sympathy or assistance that she was surprised when Helen Scott, a young teacher new at the school, turned up.

You’ve been so kind to me, she said apologetically, I was so lost, it was my first teaching job, as you know, and you always seemed to be there with advice and help when I needed you. I still don’t know many people, I’d like to help you.

Had Maggie sent her? thought Annie. Was Helen a substitute for the time off Annie had refused to take? She was about to reject the offer but then she thought, Why not? I like Helen, she’s made a good start in teaching, I’m not going to snub her now. Maybe Maggie had suggested it but that was Maggie’s way. It was one of the things that made her a good Head, that is the ability to find a way round difficulties. Maggie’s friendship was something Annie valued. When she had been appointed Annie was on the point of leaving but after only half a term she had decided to stay.

Maggie’s methods were entirely different from Mrs Witherspoon’s, the retiring Head. That lady believed in the wonders of her own administration and endlessly proclaimed these beliefs. She was hearty and dictatorial while she spoke of one big happy family or how well we all pull together. She retired with these happy thoughts and a tasteless clock. Her last speech still included utterances about playing the game and a fine school spirit.

Perhaps she really thought it was like that, Annie said to Maggie later when Mrs Witherspoon had gone, ignoring the chaos around her, and left Maggie to clear up the mess. Maggie was quite content to do this, she had understood the difficulties when she was appointed and also that not all the staff would approve of her methods, or for that matter, that any change was necessary. Perhaps they merely ignored what was going on around them, perhaps some were too near to retirement to care. Maggie valued Annie’s support and their friendship extended to their husbands for Lance was a lecturer in the music department of the college where Bernard was head of maths. It was a pleasant foursome.

Another older friendship, and one that continued with a certain amount of tolerance on both sides, was with their next door neighbours Dudley and Rose Russell. Dudley was almost over thin with a big-nosed craggy face and smooth fair hair whilst Rose was well named, Annie thought of her as a close petalled pink variety. Dudley was always full of bright ideas not always acceptable to Bernard. He means well, Annie would say when Dudley would tell them of fantastic bargains or offer an outsize marrow which he had grown, with considerable pride. Bernard only signed deeply, if he accepted such grotesque gifts he would try to smuggle them out at night and take to the nearest rubbish dump. If Dudley suspected he said nothing and it put no damper on his happy brainwaves, his fertile imagination and trying to achieve the biggest and best on his garden plot. He was a Special Constable. This satisfied the adventurous side of his nature and was his salvation when he was unexpectedly made redundant.

He always felt that the police force should have been his career anyway, Rose told Annie cheerfully, His heart was never wholly with the firm and the making of plastics and now he can do all sorts of odd jobs for people, she added hopefully.

Not here he can’t! said Bernard when Annie had repeated this conversation.

But it’s full of possibilities, said Annie.

Not here it isn’t, repeated Bernard firmly, I don’t need flashing lights, a turntable in the dining room or the latest gadget that doesn’t work. I like it here as it is.

There may be some odd jobs at school in the holidays, said Annie.

Good, Said Bernard a suitable place for a fertile mind.

Rose could afford to be cheerful, she was a computer wizard and with her reliable chubby appearance would be unlikely to be out of work.

But it was another side to Dudley’s character that Annie now saw, helpful, kind and inflexibly disapproving of her selling and moving obsession. He unwillingly helped her move.

You can’t be serious, he exclaimed when he first saw the flat and had viewed the landlord with mistrust, a mistrust Annie noted that seemed to be mutual.

We don’t like this move and Bernard wouldn’t have liked it either, and if that’s your landlord … his voice trailed off into a muttered, he’s fishy.

You’re racist, Annie had replied shortly.

Dudley was indignant, I’ve plenty of Pakistani and Asian friends, it’s not that at all.

Then what is it?

He’s fishy, repeated Dudley.

Annie ignored all this, especially the reference to Bernard, for she was serious. Some of her furniture went into store, Joel returned to Canada and she took up residence in this uninteresting flat in an unfamiliar district.

I’ve moved, she told everyone in as casual a tone as she could. She said this to the owner of a small corner shop where she and Bernard often bought more exotic foods that could be obtained in the local supermarket. The shop front announced the owner to be V.S.Bhatria but to his customers he was often known as Barty, a nickname he seemed to enjoy.

Now he asked, Where to? and shook his head sadly when she told him.

No good, bad district, you will not be liking it there.

Why not? asked Annie, fully aware that most of her friends were saying the same thing.

Funny goings on he replied, why didn’t you come to me, here there is room with garage.

I had a whole house with double garage, I just didn’t want to live in it Annie replied. A thought struck her.

Garage? she asked, May I hire the garage? She had no intention of leaving her car out in that squalid looking street.

Certainly you can be having the garage said Barty, sadly shaking his head at her willingness.

I may not always need the car, she told him, but I might if it rained or I had a great pile of books and it would be safe here. Safe? Was she already regretting her decision to move to this unfamiliar district?

Maggie was another friend who disapproved.

Are you trying to be anonymous? she asked in her forthright manner, because if you are it won’t do, you can’t hide yourself away indefinitely, you’re part of a community here, you’ve shown you understood that by carrying on at school. So what are you trying to do?

Annie had turned away without answering. Dear Maggie, she thought, you are so full of life, she had looked after her affectionately when Maggie had shrugged and departed on some other essential affair.

Full of life, short skirted and always looking ‘with it’. Annie remembered Maggie’s introduction to the school by Mrs Witherspoon and that lady’s barely concealed disapproval—"This is Mrs Hurst who is taking over from me.

She is probably jealous thought Annie as many present viewed the new head’s well-worth-looking-at legs. But the wolf whistles died down when it was realized that this was no frivolous appointment and that a sensible hard-working head was coming amongst them.

Annie hadn’t meant to be rude to Maggie or to behave in a churlish way, she just thought that Maggie had no idea of the problem as her home still had the happy confusion and problems of four children, three of them teenagers. They had not yet faced problems of What are you going to do next? or empty nest syndrome! Maggie and Lance had full-time successful careers. Their home was a noisy, bustling well managed chaos with endless and unnecessary discussions about events that needed none. There was, as yet, no major disaster such as her own, and such