Page 23 of Joker in the Pack

“Her face.”

“Huh?”

“Eleanor’s face. You know, like in the Beatles’ song, where the old lady kept her face by the door in a jar. Always thought that sounded like a horror film.”

“I’m pretty sure Paul McCartney didn’t mean a real face.”

“I guess.”

But that didn’t stop Mickey from singing a few off-key lines as I picked up the chunky phone sitting on the top shelf. No dial tone. It was as dead as its owner. Next to it, Aunt Ellie had started a shopping list she’d never complete.

Microwave chips.

Pizza.

Dairy Milk chocolate.

Lottery scratch card.

Hmm… Looked as if she hadn’t been much of a chef.

A flight of stairs ran up the wall to my right and disappeared into the gloom above. On the ground floor, four doors led off the hallway, three at the far end and one next to me. I pushed it open and immediately regretted that decision.

“Eeuch! Who does that?” I screwed my eyes shut, wishing it would go away.

“What? What’s wrong?” Maddie asked.

I shuffled to the side so she could look into the downstairs toilet. The orange downstairs toilet. And not a muted shade of peach or a subtle tint. No, bright, in-your-face tangerine, the love child of a can of Tango and a bottle of Tropicana.

“Ouch. Did your Aunt Ellie have impaired vision?”

“I don’t think so. Just incredibly bad taste.”

“At least it’s not avocado,” Mickey said.

“No, that’s probably upstairs.”

I pulled the toilet door shut, wishing I hadn’t sold my Gucci sunglasses on eBay. I’d need them every time I got the urge to pee.

“Wonder what’s behind door number two?” Maddie muttered as I followed her along the hallway.

Mickey had been spot on about the carpet. Grimy and threadbare underfoot, I’d certainly never walk on it without slippers.

“Do you want me to open it?” Mickey asked, his hand hovering above the door handle.

“Yes, go on.”

Light coming in through the grimy window of the lounge revealed an oversized velvet sofa, the antithesis of the bathroom with its drab brown swirls. It sat opposite the biggest plasma TV I’d ever seen.

Mickey let out a low whistle. “Well, I guess we know where her pension went.”

We sure did. Edward had spent a fortune on his fifty-inch flat screen, but Aunt Ellie’s looked bigger.

“I guess she must have really enjoyed her soaps.”

The TV was the focal point of the room, but clutter dominated the rest of the space. A cheap-looking veneered shelving unit spanned one wall, full to bursting with nicknacks. China figurines, decorative plates, candles, teacups and matching saucers. How on earth did she dust? I ran a finger across one ornamental jug and studied the grey layer on my finger. Guess I’d answered that question.

Out in the hallway again, I hoped it would be third time lucky. Maddie opened the door this time, revealing a kitchen with stained Formica countertops and a lingering odour of cigarette smoke. The ceiling was stained yellow from old tobacco, made worse by the clash with the beige walls. I couldn’t help shuddering.

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