The Mystery of the Homeless Man

THE MYSTERY OF THE HOMELESS MAN SEEMS DETECTIVE SERIES BOOK 3 GINA CHEYNE First published in 2023 by Fly Fizzi Ltd Pyers Croft, Compton, Chichester West Sussex PO18 9EX www.flyfizzi.co.uk Copyright © 2023 by Gina Cheyne The right of Gina Cheyne to be the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patent Act 1988. A CIP record of this book is available from the British Library. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. www.ginacheyne.com Cover design by Kari Brownlie ISBN 978-1-915138-08-8 ebook ISBN 978-1-915138-09-5 paperback ISBN 978-1-915138-10-1 hardback ISBN 978-1-915138-11-8 audiobook Created with Vellum This book is dedicated to Keith and anyone else who finds themselves homeless and living on the streets A soul needs something more than four walls and a ceiling Munia Khan Homelessness is not a choice but rather a journey that many find themselves on Asa Don Brown CONTENTS 1. Owly Vale Village Vortex 2. King’s Cross 3. Garlic Improves Memory 4. Frank the Liverpudlian Detective 5. Tasting the Garlic 6. Owly Vale’s Finest Build: the pub 7. Blinkey Learns to Play Bridge 8. Wild Garlic’s Ghostly History 9. The Joy of Facebook 10. Captain of the Craft 11. Son of the Father 12. Street Life 13. Stevie and the Queen of the Spinners 14. House of the Rising Husbands 15. The Life and Loves of a Physics Teacher 16. Knowledge is Not Understanding 17. Spud the Sharp Potato 18. Questions and Answers 19. Switzerland in West Sussex 20. Clive Creamer’s Dreams 21. Walking on the Wild Side 22. The Best Little Airfield in Town 23. View from the Rear Window 24. Spinners in Heaven 25. Absolution in Suburbia 26. Runways to Heaven 27. The Chocolate Thief 28. Tiger Moth Tails 29. Fly On, You Crazy Pilot 30. Dance until Death 31. Drinking in the Dark 32. Hot Ashes for Wings 33. Amy Wonderful Amy 34. Setting Boundaries 35. Trading Ghosts for Pilots 36. Flying Through the Water Globe 37. Pain Comes in Many Colours 38. Hell is Other People 39. Jumping Spiders 40. Mrs D. B. Cooper Afterword Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Gina Cheyne CHAPTER 1 OWLY VALE VILLAGE VORTEX When Neil was thrust into wakefulness he was immediately aware of two things: one was the intense cold, even though he was pretty sure he had fallen asleep in the summer, the other was the dog licking his face. He opened his eyes and the dog sat back on his haunches and barked. Neil’s sore eyeballs alighted on a ball by his arm, and the dog pushed it harder against him; in case he had missed it. ‘Phew, dog!’ he muttered. ‘Have you chosen the wrong moment.’ Carefully he put up his hand and rubbed his aching head. As he did so he noticed the trees: there were trees everywhere. He rolled onto his back and, ignoring the dog’s plaintive cries, stared at tall branches and a heavy overgrowth of leaves which almost obscured the sky. Did he really fall asleep here? His normal playground was the streets, this looked like countryside, a wood even. Where was he? ‘Well, hello!’ said a rather too loud and jolly voice. ‘You stealing my dog?’ A slightly overweight young woman hovered into his vision grinning happily. No, he thought, hovering was the wrong word, she collided with his vision: she was the sort of person who was there when she was there, and left a hole when she went. He pulled his beard. He wasn’t making sense even to himself, he wished they would all go away. ‘Well,’ said the woman again, ‘you look like you need help. You OK?’ And she gave a schoolgirl laugh. ‘Up you get.’ Neil shut his eyes. This was a bad dream. He was really in a doorway in Brighton. He was not here, wherever here was, and he had a bottle of whisky in his hand. He opened his eyes again, but there were no bottles anywhere round him. Nothing except cracked earth, bushes, and wild garlic: which smelt. This was not Brighton. Apparently this idea had also occurred to his female persecutor, as she said, ‘How did you get here, anyway? You homeless? You’re a long way from civilisation. Mind you,’ she continued suddenly becoming surprisingly literary, ‘I’d rather be down and out here than in London or Paris.’ She laughed again. ‘You need a bath.’ He sighed. Yes, she was the sort of woman who ‘spoke as she found’ and he wished she hadn’t found him. He made an effort to get to his feet and found she was there too, leaning in, helping him. And she was strong. Surprisingly so. ‘Hum, you don’t weigh much. Don’t you eat?’ He said nothing, scrambling to get up before she damaged one of his street-weakened arms. ‘You’d better come with me and have something to eat,’ she said, still in that rather too loud voice. ‘The children are having breakfast, you can join them.’ ‘Where am I?’ he asked. ‘Owly Vale,’ said the woman. ‘You’re in the woods behind a house called Wild Garlic.’ She gave a guffaw of laughter. ‘You can smell why.’ He nodded carefully. ‘How far from Brighton?’ The woman stared at him, eventually she said, ‘Brighton? Over an hour by car. Did you walk here?’ Neil shrugged and shook his head. His new friend giggled nervously. ‘Well! I’m Miranda, this is Pugwash.’ ‘And I,’ said Neil, ‘am your pilot on this flight.’ He expected her to laugh and say something meaningless but instead she looked at him quizzically and said, ‘Are you? Well that explains a lot.’ She put her arm under his shoulder and led him out of the wood and towards the kitchen where the children were