What did I know about being a PA? Very little. The sum total of my research had been three gossip magazines Gloria kept in her desk drawer and a quick viewing of a documentary on the Grimmtown Film Festival. It didn’t make me an expert, but it gave me something to go on as I entered Miss Muffet’s B&B.
‘No, no, no, this won’t do at all,’ I shrieked as I strode purposefully into the lobby. ‘Mr Schmidt-Heye must have total privacy. This area must be cleared at once.’
As there was no one there apart from Miss Muffet herself, who was manning the reception desk, it probably didn’t have the effect I was expecting, but I figured I might as well get into character immediately.
‘Mr Pigg, is that you?’ Miss Muffet seemed to have difficulty deciding whether to laugh or to stare. Maybe I should have briefed her in a bit more detail about our plans.
‘Yes,’ I hissed. ‘But today I’m Harriet du Crêpe, remember?’
‘I know, you told me. I just wasn’t expecting…this,’ she whispered back.
I didn’t ask her to elaborate; I just requested that she play along.
By now, some of the guests, attracted no doubt by my high-decibel delivery, were gathering on the first-floor landing and at the entrance to the dining room.
‘Please,’ I shouted. ‘Can we have everyone out of here now?
‘What’s going on?’ asked a small, old man at the dining-room door. ‘Is there a fire? Should we evacuate? I’ll get my coat.’
‘No, no.’ Miss Muffet tried to defuse the situation. ‘We have a new guest arriving and he likes his privacy. Perhaps if you could all go back to what you were doing, we might get it sorted out.’
‘So there’s no fire then?’
‘No.’
‘Or any emergency?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Good,’ said the old man. ‘I’m going back to my breakfast then.’
‘Thank you, Mr Spratt,’ Miss Muffet said. ‘Coffee should be along shortly. That’s Jack Spratt,’ she whispered to me as the guests began to disperse. ‘He’s here with his wife. They stayed here after they got married and are revisiting now to celebrate their anniversary.’
From the look of him, that would have been about two hundred years ago. ‘And they’re still staying here despite the...um…difficulties.’
‘Oh, yes, they’re quite adamant. Apparently it has huge nostalgic value for them.’
It would want to, I thought. It’s the only reason anyone would want to stay here.
Figuring that Basili had been waiting outside long enough, I decided it was time for his grand entrance. ‘Good,’ I announced. ‘The area is clear. Mr Schmidt-Heye can enter now.’ I rushed outside and beckoned at the chauffeur.
‘What?’ he grunted.
‘Help Mr Schmidt-Heye down.’
‘Hey, Ali Baba said I was only to drive you here. He said nothing about this.’
The prospect of helping a large ex-genie off a magic carpet while wearing heels didn’t appeal to me. ‘Just do it, okay. Do you really want me to tell him you wouldn’t help us?’
With a resigned groan, he got off the carpet, walked around to the side and held out his arm. ‘Okay, big guy, down you get.’
‘Respect, please,’ I ordered. ‘This is a famous movie-director. You will refer to him as “sir” at all times.’
‘No, he’s not. He’s that fat bloke that hangs around with you when you’re not wearing a dress. He’s a movie-director in the same way that I’m an astronaut.’
‘Keep your voice down, you’ll blow our cover.’
The chauffeur smirked. ‘Oh, I think you’re doing that all by yourself. You don’t need my help.’
I marched up to him and grabbed him in a very unlady-like way. ‘Just oblige me, okay?’
The chauffeur’s face turned white as I tightened my grip. ‘You’re the boss,’ he wheezed and turned to Basili. ‘If…sir… would care to take my arm.’
‘That’s much better,’ I said as he helped Basili down from the magic carpet. ‘I’ll see your boss gets a good report.’
The chauffeur glowered as he jumped back into his seat, but, sensibly, refused to comment any further. Seconds later the magic carpet shot into the sky and we were on our own once more.
‘Right, we’re good to go. I’ve cleared the reception area, so, hopefully, no one will approach us. Remember, if they do, let me do the talking.’
Basili nodded glumly and followed me inside where Miss Muffet was waiting to greet her newest guest. ‘Mr Schmidt-Heye, what a great honour it is having you here in our humble abode.’ Wow, she certainly knew how to fawn. Then I noticed that she was looking at Basili expectantly. I nudged him hard in the ribs. ‘That’s you, remember?’
‘Yes, you are most welcome.’ He tapped his cigarette holder on the edge of the reception desk. ‘Now please to be showing me my room. I must lie down. It has been a most horrendous trip.’
Wow, the ride from my office hadn’t been that bad.
‘Yes, of course. Your room is this way. If you’ll follow me.’ Miss Muffet led us up the stairs. Lining the wall all the way up was a series of paintings. I glanced at them as we passed. They all seemed to show pictures of the same person doing something adventurous. In one picture he was waving to a large group of people on the ground as he ascended in a hot-air balloon; in another he was in a speedboat waving once more at a pursuing fleet.
‘Family portraits?’ I asked Miss Muffet.
‘Sort of,’ she replied, but made no attempt to elaborate further.
I shrugged my shoulders, but decided to drop the subject, seeing as she clearly didn’t want to talk about it. But something about the pictures nagged at me. For some reason, the person featured in them rang a bell, but recognition just wouldn’t come.
We arrived on the first-floor landing and were led into a large bedroom at the front of the house. To her credit, Miss Muffet had made a huge effort to remove any trace of spiders, but they were already reclaiming the corners and would probably have retaken the whole room by teatime.
Basili looked around, his head in the air. ‘I am supposing this will have to do,’ he sniffed, running a gloved finger along the dressing table and holding it up for scrutiny.
‘It’s okay, Basili,’ I whispered. ‘We’re on our own now. No one can see you. You can drop the act.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ he said as he collapsed on the bed, which groaned ominously at the intrusion. ‘Being an undercover operative is being most difficult.’
‘You’ve only been undercover for five minutes and all you’ve had to do is walk up a flight of stairs, how difficult can it be?’
‘Ah, yes, but I am struggling greatly to find my inner director and my motivation. Why am I doing this? What are this man’s issues and struggles?’
He seemed to be taking his acting a bit too seriously. ‘Look, you’re not auditioning for a role in a real film. Just stand around and be superior like we said. Just stay shtum and you’ll be fine.’
We were interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Quick, back in character,’ I ordered. ‘Who is it? Mr Schmidt-Heye is resting after his long journey and cannot be disturbed.’
‘Harry, it’s me, Jack,’ whispered a voice from outside the door. I quickly opened it and dragged Jack into the room. He took one look at us and fell on the floor laughing.
‘Jack, this isn’t the time,’ I said. ‘What have you to report?’
With difficulty, Jack composed himself and sat up. ‘I’m working in the kitchen, but it’s not a very nice place. The cook, Mrs Hubbard, is very bossy. I don’t think she likes me.’
Miss Muffet nodded at Jack’s comment. ‘Mrs Hubbard runs a tight kitchen. Just do as she says, work hard and you’ll be okay.’
‘And then there’s the waiter or butler or whatever he is. He’s a bit strange; won’t talk to anyone.’
‘Aha,’ said Basili. ‘I am being right, there is a butler. He is doing the crime.’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, old Mr Zingiber has been with the family for years. He looks after serving the meals and making sure the guests are being cared for. He’s certainly not responsible for this crime.’
Jack pulled at the hem of my dress. ‘And I think he’s made of gingerbread too. I’m terrified in case I spill something on him and he melts.’
Miss Muffet overheard. ‘Don’t worry about him; he’s pretty stale by now. It’d take quite a deluge to soften him up.’
‘Anyone else in the kitchen I should know about?’ I asked.
‘Just Polly. She helps Mrs Hubbard with the cooking. She’s a nice girl; none too bright, but very good with food, making tea, that sort of thing,’ said Miss Muffet.
It was time to bring the meeting to order. ‘Right, now that everyone’s here, let’s go over it once more: look out for anyone acting suspiciously, don’t talk to anyone unless you have to and, if you find anything out, come and tell me. Got that?’ Nods all around. ‘Good, now let’s go and solve this case.’
Jack scurried back to the kitchen and Miss Muffet made to follow him. She turned to me as she reached the door. ‘Will you be dining with us tonight?’
The thought of hundreds of spiders watching me as I ate, waiting for an opportunity to help themselves, made my stomach cartwheel, but I had to meet the other guests. ‘Mr Schmidt-Heye will dine at a table alone; I will eat with the other guests.’
‘Very good. Dinner is at seven.’
Yeah: me, the guests and a tribe of tarantulas. ‘Lovely,’ I muttered. ‘Oh, by the way, where’s my room?’
‘I put you in the room next door. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to clean it out. I’m afraid you’ll just have to ignore the spiders.’
Fantastic.