Page 32 of Not That Impossible

I heard something rip as I swung over the top and my sweatpants got caught by one of the decorative knobs. My phone fell out my pocket and slammed onto the pavement.

I snagged it, stood up, and said, “Uh…hello,” when I locked eyes with the woman two feet away, staring at me with mild surprise. “Oh. Hi, Mrs Hughes. You live here? I had no idea. Hi, Dougal.” I crouched down and made kissy noises at the stout West Highland terrier who was standing beside her.

He stumped over and shoved his face into my waiting hands. I rubbed his ears gently. He groaned.

Mrs Hughes ran the bookshop in town. Dougal was a fixture in the shop. He was also a total fusspot. He dropped his butt to the ground and set his head on my thigh.

I glanced up at Mrs Hughes. “Bit of excitement today, hey?”

“Yes. It’s not everyday a man randomly throws himself over my garden gate out of nowhere and nearly lands on my dog.”

I grinned and ducked my head. “Sorry about that. Um. I meant the…you know. The whole dead body thing going on over there.”

“It’s all a bit unexpected, really. Poor Ray, you should have seen him.”

I gave Dougal a couple more pats, and straightened. “Can I ask you—”

“Excuse me? Excuse me. Hello.”

We both turned to look at Mrs Strickland.

She smiled. “I wonder if I could ask you a few questions?”

“…isexactlywhat I was about to say,” I jumped in. “Maybe you could wait your turn? Because I was here first.”

Mrs Strickland ignored me. “I recognise you, don’t I?” she said to Mrs Hughes. “From the bookshop? I’d love to get your take on what’s going on today.” She smiled again, and held out her phone toward Mrs Hughes like a microphone.

I shuffled from one foot to the other, and glanced down at my own phone.

It was old and scuffed. Thanks to my gymnastics and a torn pocket, the screen was now cracked. I wasn’t going to impress anyone holding it out like a microphone, like Mrs Strickland was doing. I stuffed it into the unripped pocket and brought out my notebook instead. I flipped it open, turned to a fresh page, and said loudly, “Mrs Hughes!”

A bit too loudly. She flinched.

“Sorry. Um. Can I ask you my questions first?”

“Oh, I—”

“Don’t be silly, Jasper,” Mrs Strickland said. “I’ll ask the questions. You’re welcome to stay and listen if you want.”

Mrs Hughes looked from Mrs Strickland to me with a small frown.

I showily patted Dougal.Your dog likes me! I’m so nice and not at all pushy! Talk to me first!

“You’re probably going to get a lot of people wanting to talk to you,” Mrs Strickland said in a confiding tone. Mrs Hughes didn’t look particularly thrilled at the idea. “Why not get it all done in one go?”

Mrs Hughes sighed and glanced between us again. “That sounds fair. What do you want to know?”

Mrs Strickland smiled, and angled herself so that Mrs Hughes had to turn away from me to face her.

Aaaand I was sidelined. With Dougal.

No problem. I could still get the story.

Mrs Strickland wanted to ask the questions? Fine by me. She’d ask better ones anyway, I didn’t mind admitting it. She had way more experience. This was a great learning opportunity.

“When did you first hear about the body?” Mrs Strickland said. “Take me through it.”

“Well, we’d just come back from Dougal’s walk, when Ray and a couple of workmen came running out of his house like something was chasing them. The workmen got in their van and left—speeding, I might add—and Ray was standing there in his front drive, staring into space. I thought he was going to faint. I ran over, and he said there was a dead man in his house.”

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