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noise seemed to echo through the building. A few moments later, I heard footsteps, and the door creaked open. It was Myrtle Turtle; she was wearing a blue cardigan, a tweed skirt and slippers.
    “Ah, it’s you, young lady. I wasn’t sure if you’d come. So few young people are reliable these days.”
    “I hope it’s convenient, Ms Turtle.”
    “Do come in.”
    The interior was not what I’d been expecting. The furnishings were all very modern—not a rocking chair in sight.
    “I’ll just turn this down.” She took a smartphone from her pocket, and used it to stop the music.
    “How did you do that, Ms Turtle?”
    “It’s Spotify Connect. I have it in all the rooms.”
    Spotify? Smartphones? Maybe, I’d misjudged this old girl?
    “I usually listen to vinyl.”
    “You’re really behind the times, aren’t you, young lady?”
    Ms Turtle made tea for us both. Earl Grey, and very nice it was, too. Even better, she got the sugar measure precisely right.
    “Would you care for a biscuit, Jill?”
    “What do you have?”
    “I have a variety, but I like to keep them all separate.” She opened a cupboard inside which were several Tupperware containers. “I have bourbons, rich tea, chocolate digestives and custard creams.”
    “Custard creams for me, please.”
    “They’re my second favourite. I prefer the bourbons.”
    That was just wrong, but I didn’t feel it was my place to comment.
    “I like to keep my biscuits in separate containers too,” I said.
    “Really? There’s hope for you yet.”
    Over tea, we got chatting, and she began to let her guard down a little.
    “Ms Turtle, what did you used to do before you retired, if you don’t mind my asking?”
    “You can ask, Jill, but if I told you, I’d be forced to kill you.” She laughed.
    I laughed too, but there was something in the way she’d said it that made me wonder if there wasn’t at least a grain of truth in it. Was she ex-police, ex-forces or something more sinister?
    “What about the local police, Ms Turtle? Don’t they object to you getting involved with their investigations?”
    “They’re not exactly thrilled, but they tend to put up with it because I’ve been doing it for so long. Besides which, this is not the city. The police have to cover all of the Tweakings, and several other villages. That leaves them spread rather thin. It helps that my track record is rather good. What about you? Do you have any problems with the police in Washbridge?”
    “I used to—with one detective in particular.”
    “And you don’t now? Has he moved to a different region?”
    “Actually, he’s now my boyfriend.”
    “That’s one way to get someone on your side, I suppose.” She smiled. “Drink up and we’ll get cracking.”
     
    We’d no sooner stepped out of the door than we ran into a police officer; his face lit up when he spotted Ms Turtle.
    “Hello, Myrtle.”
    “Charlie. Can I introduce you to this young lady? Her name is Jill Gooder. She’s a private investigator from Washbridge.”
    “Pleased to meet you, young lady.” Charlie Cross had a winning smile, and a firm handshake. He looked old enough to have retired himself.
    “Nice to meet you too, Sergeant.”
    “None of that Sergeant nonsense. Everyone around here calls me Charlie.”
    “Okay, Charlie.”
    “What brings you to Middle Tweaking, Jill?”
    “I was at The Old Trout the other night for the murder mystery.”
    “I see. It’s tragic what happened to Madge. Did you know it was to be the last murder mystery evening?”
    “I think the landlord mentioned it.”
    “The players had some kind of falling out, and decided they could no longer work together, but they honoured their remaining bookings.”
    “I thought at the time they didn’t seem very happy. They didn’t appear to be into what they were doing.”
    “They were probably just going through the motions. I’m still not sure why you’re back in Middle Tweaking, though.”
    Ms Turtle interrupted.