The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives and a Mystery at Sea
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Synopsis
Don't miss book 3 in the Fish and Chip Shop Detective Agency Series, perfect for fans of Fiona Leitch and Peter Boland - available to pre-order now!
Release date: September 3, 2026
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Print pages: 320
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The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives and a Mystery at Sea
Jenny Kane
Chapter One
Sunday 14th September
The café, the only one in Penzance to open before ten on a Sunday morning, was already busy when Maggie and Ryan arrived.
‘I’ll grab some coffee. You want anything else?’ Ryan gestured to a blackboard over the counter displaying the breakfast options.
‘A teacake would be great. There should be time to eat before our client arrives.’
As her friend and business partner joined the queue, Maggie’s phone buzzed to signal the arrival of a text message.
Hey Mum. I bet you’re up early, raring to go after solving another case. If you’ve got time, give me a call. Izzie xxx
Maggie propped her phone against a bottle of tomato ketchup and pressed the video-call function, a wide smile on her face.
‘Mum! I knew you’d be awake. I’m so glad you called.’
Maggie’s elation that Izzie wanted to chat was instantly counteracted by the concern on her daughter’s face. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘I’m fine. I’ve been worried about you – and Ryan too. What with Mr Robbins dying and everything.’
Maggie sighed. ‘We’re okay. Still suffering from a touch of shock maybe.’
‘I’m not surprised. He’s not been gone a fortnight yet. I can’t believe he left you his shop.’
‘Nor me. I know I worked for him for ten years, but I never dreamt he’d leave me anything, let alone the chippy. The paperwork’s already underway – Mr Robbins had arranged everything in his will, so the transfer should be very straightforward once probate is complete, thank goodness, but the whole place still feels wrong without him.’
‘I bet. You’ll be brilliant at running it though. And you have Ryan to help you.’
‘I thank my lucky stars he came into my life back in June.’ Maggie lowered her voice, not wanting to be overheard. ‘Having him about makes missing you a little easier.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Izzie sounded dismayed, as though she wished she could reach out and hug her mum. ‘I’ll be back for Christmas.’
Feeling guilty for making Izzie feel bad, Maggie hastily added, ‘You’re having a fab time in New Zealand; that’s all that matters. Take no notice of me. I’m all over the place, what with inheriting the chippy just as the detective agency’s taking off. Life’s gone from being safely predictable to extremely unpredictable in a very short space of time.’
‘You’re living the dream, Mum! You always wanted to be a detective – now you are. With a brand-new case too.’
‘Ryan and I are meeting our client this morning.’ Maggie gestured around her. ‘That’s why I’m in a café this early on a Sunday.’
Izzie leaned in eagerly.
‘Linda Grayling wants you to find her nephew, right?’
‘That’s it. I just hope Ryan and I can help her.’
‘Of course you can. You’re my mum.’ Izzie beamed with pride.
As tears pricked in the corners of her eyes, Maggie muttered, ‘Thanks, love.’
‘Where’s Ryan anyway? Still in bed?’
Maggie chuckled. ‘He’s twenty-two years old and it’s a Sunday morning, so I’m sure he’d rather be, but no. He’s queuing for our breakfast.’
Izzie laughed. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him properly. Anyway, I have to go – I just wanted to make sure you were alright.’
‘It’s appreciated. Off anywhere nice?’
A pink bloom coloured Izzie’s cheeks. ‘Just out for a drink.’
Fear clutched at Maggie’s heart. ‘A date type of drink?’
‘He’s just a friend, Mum.’
As Izzie self-consciously fiddled with her hair, Maggie noted how nice her daughter was looking. ‘A friend you’ve dressed up for.’
‘It’s an excuse to get out of the working clothes. I live in dungarees or jeans these days.’
Noting Izzie’s defensive tone, Maggie backtracked. ‘And very lovely you look too. Now, off you go. Have fun!’
‘Talk soon, Mum. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
As Izzie ended the call, Maggie found herself staring at the phone screen.
She’s young, she’s attractive and she’s fun, of course someone’s asked her out. It doesn’t mean anything – she’ll come home. She’s got uni next year for a start.
Not allowing herself to give in to emotion, Maggie was about to put her phone down when another text message flashed onto the screen.
Don’t panic, Mum – I’m not going to marry him and stay here forever. Enjoy breakfast and get sleuthing. It’s time for the Fish and Chip Shop Detectives to solve another mystery!
Ryan arrived at the table with a wooden spoon bearing their order number in his hand. ‘Did I hear you on the phone?’
‘Izzie was checking up on us.’
Noting the furrow on Maggie’s forehead, Ryan asked, ‘Are you alright?’
‘I keep thinking – well, what if I’m not up to running the chippy and the agency at the same time? There’s been no time to let things sink in.’
‘I know what you mean. What with the boss dying and catching killers and everything.’
‘While simultaneously annoying the local detective inspector.’
Ryan grimaced. ‘Detective Inspector Houseman is never going to be our biggest fan. Thank goodness you’re such good friends with Sergeant Peters.’
Not commenting on her friendship with her ex-boyfriend, Maggie cradled her coffee cup. ‘Izzie was about to go out on a date when she called.’
Guessing Maggie would, on top of everything else, be worrying that her daughter wouldn’t come home if she fell in love with someone over there, Ryan steered the conversation back to the task in hand. ‘How about we concentrate on the case?’
Maggie gave him a grateful smile. ‘Good plan.’
‘So, how do you want to handle the meeting with Linda?’
‘I think to start with we should get her to go through the basics. Obviously we need to know as much as possible about her nephew. Then let’s go to where he was last seen. We can plan how to proceed from there.’ Maggie took a notebook from her bag.
‘That wouldn’t be another brand-new notebook, would it?’
‘If you’re going to tease me again about having a new notebook for each fresh case then don’t bother. It works for me. Keeps things tidy. And no, I don’t think it would be better if I used a laptop or my phone.’
Ryan held his palms up in mock surrender. ‘And it’s worked well for us so far. What’s the picture on the cover of this one?’
Maggie lifted the notebook, showing him an artist’s impression of a harbour. A few boats were dotted here and there on an azure sea, while a stretch of cliffs bordered the scene.
‘Perfect for an enquiry into a missing person who was last seen in Penzance harbour.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Maggie laid it back down. ‘I got it from the gallery in Newlyn the other day; it’s just a coincidence it matches our case so well.’
‘Let’s hope it’s a good omen and we find Linda’s nephew quickly, because while I was queuing for coffee, I checked our Facebook page. We’ve two new requests for our services. One to find a lost cat—’
‘Another one?’ Maggie’s eyebrows rose. ‘The number of felines that go astray around here is ridiculous.’
‘The other one is from a Mrs Janice Prentice, wanting to know how often her husband visits the local betting shop.’
‘If she thinks he’s having an affair with the betting clerk, then the answer is no. We don’t take that sort of case.’
‘Nothing like that. Apparently Tony Prentice likes a flutter; uses the betting shop on Chapel Street in Penzance.’
‘I know the one.’
‘He swears he goes there once a day and places one small bet, but—’
‘Let me guess, the bank account is going down faster than it should and Mrs Prentice suspects he’s gambling more frequently.’
‘Yep. She’s worried about being able to afford the rent.’
‘Poor woman. Makes me feel bad for having to charge her for confirming her fears – assuming she’s right of course.’
‘She’d be paying to put her mind at rest.’ Ryan tapped his phone case. ‘There are heaps of online casinos waiting to take your money. He could be gambling on those as well.’
‘Possibly, but if he’s comfortable with gambling remotely, why bother to go to a betting shop?’
‘To escape the house for a while?’ Ryan shrugged. ‘That’s if he is actually going to a bookie’s.’
‘Let’s start by assuming he’s told his wife the truth, and go from there.’
Ryan agreed. ‘I’ll tell her we’ll take the case then.’
‘How about we say we’ll watch him tomorrow morning and report back? It won’t take two of us. Are you okay to take the lead on this one?’
‘Sure. I’ll message her in a minute, asking for a photo of her husband and a few more details. And the cat?’
‘Depends how we get on with Linda. Reply to that enquiry this evening.’
‘Will do.’ Ryan leant back in his seat as a waitress delivered their order. He immediately picked up his coffee mug, inhaling the aroma. ‘That’s better! I don’t function too well until I’ve had at least one mug of coffee in the morning.’
‘I hear you.’ Maggie was about to take a bite of her teacake when the door to the café opened, and Linda Grayling walked in.
Chapter Two
‘Linda.’ Maggie got to her feet. ‘Can we get you a drink?’
‘A hot chocolate would be lovely. Thank you.’
‘I’ll fetch it.’ Ryan stood up. ‘Cream and marshmallows?’
‘Just plain, please.’
Maggie noticed their client’s hunched shoulders and bowed head as she sank onto the bench. ‘I’m assuming you’ve not heard from your nephew?’
‘Nothing.’ Linda looked up. ‘I hope I’m worrying over nothing, but I’ve got this feeling I can’t shake. Something is wrong.’
‘Feelings like that should never be ignored.’
‘That’s what I thought. If I did nothing, and Mitch was in trouble …’
‘You’d never forgive yourself.’ Maggie nodded sympathetically.
‘James, my brother and Mitch’s dad, thinks I’m fussing because my husband is dead and not around to annoy.’
‘That’s a bit harsh.’
‘His wife Angela walked out on him and Mitch five years ago. It hit James hard.’ Linda looked drawn. ‘He never used to say such cruel things. I try to cut him some slack, but sometimes …’
‘It must be difficult,’ Maggie said diplomatically as she opened her notebook. ‘Once Ryan comes back I’ll take a few notes. Make sure we all understand what needs doing.’
‘Sounds good. I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t met you both.’
‘Found another agency.’
Linda shook her head. ‘I doubt hiring private detectives would have crossed my mind before you came into my office when you were investigating Mr Robbins’ death.’
As Ryan returned, a mug of hot chocolate in hand, Maggie said, ‘We’ll do everything we can to find Mitch, but we can’t promise success.’
‘I appreciate your candour.’ Linda placed her palms on the table. ‘What would you like to know first?’
‘Let’s start with the basics.’ Maggie removed the lid from her pen. ‘Mitch’s full name, age and address.’
‘Mitchell Ashley. He’s nineteen, and he lives with his father at 9 Alma Road, Penzance.’
As Maggie wrote down Linda’s responses, Ryan took over the questioning. ‘Is he working or at college? University?’
‘Unemployed. Failed his A levels last year.’ Linda wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. ‘Mitch always did okay at school. He’s practical rather than academic, but he still got eight GCSEs – all Cs. He was disappointed not to get a few Bs, but I remember saying the Cs stood for consistent. Cheered him up … that’s when he decided to stay on at school to do A levels in the sixth form.’
‘He went to the local academy?’ When Linda nodded, Maggie ventured, ‘You mentioned his mum left five years ago.’
‘Things had been bad between Angela and James for a while, but they kept trying for Mitch’s sake. I’ll be the first to admit that James is not always easy to be around. One day Angela just upped and left. Without Mitch.’
‘Do you know why she left him behind?’
‘I don’t, Maggie. Maybe she just wanted a clean break. Or she may have thought it was best for Mitch to have a stable home with his GCSEs coming up.’
‘But to leave your teenage son …’ Ryan left his sentence hanging in the air. ‘Can I ask what you meant when you said James isn’t easy to be around?’
‘Short temper. Not good at holding down a job. Consequently, money’s always tight. I did wonder if Angela’d found someone easier to live with – but I’ve no evidence of that.’
‘What does James think?’
‘He’s too angry to think. My brother has never come to terms with his wife leaving him. In his heart, I’m sure he knows he treated her badly – I can’t decide if he’s broken-hearted or simply furious with her or himself, or both.’ Linda let out a heavy sigh. ‘James started to drink too much as well, making him even more morose. And alcohol tends to inflame his temper further.’
‘I see.’ Maggie found herself wondering if Mitch had gone away to escape his father’s ire.
Changing the direction of the interview, Ryan asked, ‘What does Mitch look like?’
‘Short ginger hair, sprinkle of freckles. Here.’ Linda opened her phone. ‘I’ve got a picture. I’ll WhatsApp it over.’
Maggie and Ryan found themselves looking at a boy who was entirely average. Average height, average appearance, average clothing – black jeans and white T-shirt. His only distinctive feature was his red hair.
‘Is there anything else about him we should know? Regional accent? Left-handed? Only ever wears Nikes? That sort of thing?’
Linda shook her head at Ryan. ‘Sounds local, no handy limp or anything, right-handed and he wears New Balance trainers; like almost everyone else these days.’
Ryan glanced down at his own feet, encased in black New Balances. ‘Could we have his telephone number and email address? You never know, he might answer if he doesn’t recognise the number.’
Linda took the pen Maggie offered her and jotted them down in her notebook. ‘You think he might be avoiding family, rather than having gone missing.’
‘It’s an angle we should consider. It’s possible he just needed a break from his dad.’
‘To be honest, that’s what James thinks. But why hide from me? We’re close – at least, I thought we were.’ Holding her hot chocolate to her chest, Linda went on, ‘When Angela left, Mitch tried hard. I suppose he felt he had to, in case his dad left him too. He threw himself into his studies, was helpful, and – if I’m honest – Mitch was the one James relied on, not the other way around. And that was as big a problem as his mum deserting him – although James can’t, or won’t, see that. Mitch gradually became resentful of being the only one who did the cooking and cleaning. But, over the last six months, Mitch simply stopped trying. At home and at school. While he and I remained close, Mitch and James drifted apart. They’re like people in a house-share rather than father and son.’
Maggie jotted down a few more notes. ‘When did you last see Mitch?’
‘Almost three weeks ago. I was trying to get them to talk without arguing, so I invited Mitch and James over for a barbecue on Bank Holiday Monday. I was amazed they came, to be honest.’
Ryan opened his phone’s calendar. ‘That would have been the twenty-fifth of August.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Who else was there?’
‘Just James, Mitch, me – and Bryn of course.’ Linda smiled as she mentioned her son’s name. ‘It was nice. A bit strained sometimes between James and Mitch, but there were no fights or anything.’
‘And when was the last time Bryn saw him?’
‘Same time as I did. Mitch and James left our house together at around seven that evening.’ Linda took a sip of her drink. ‘James, however, last saw Mitch on Saturday the sixth of September. He dropped Mitch off near Penzance railway station at about eight in the evening, after they’d been to the supermarket.’
Maggie glanced at the date on her phone. ‘It’s the fourteenth today, so that’s a total of eight days since a family member has seen him. Any phone or email contact since then?’
‘Nothing. He told his dad he was off for a drink with his mates, but Mitch only has one friend that we know of. A lad known as Zip.’
‘Zip?’ Maggie frowned. ‘And his real name?’
‘No idea.’
‘Did you ask your brother if he knows where Zip lives or works?’
‘I did ask – but he didn’t know.’
Maggie thought for a moment. ‘Do you know where Mitch was heading for this drink?’
‘No. James keeps saying, “He’s nineteen, he can do what he likes.” He’s forbidden me from reporting Mitch as missing.’
‘As Mitch is over eighteen and his father doesn’t consider him to be at risk, the police might not be that interested, even though he’s been gone for well over forty-eight hours.’
‘That’s why I decided to take a leaf out of your book.’
‘How do you mean?’ Maggie drank some of her fast-cooling coffee.
‘Before I’d decided to hire you, I took a photo of Mitch to Penzance station, the nearby pubs, and the harbour.’
‘That’s the first thing we were planning to do,’ Maggie said approvingly. ‘When was this?’
‘Night before last.’
Maggie wrote down 12th September in her book. ‘What did you discover?’
‘No one recalled seeing him in the local pubs.’
‘Or at least admitted to seeing him,’ Ryan pointed out.
Linda’s brow furrowed. ‘I suppose that’s possible, but as a fair while had passed since the sixth, I knew asking was a long shot.’
Ryan nodded. ‘After the station and pubs, you tried the harbour?’
‘Yes. He used to go there in the evenings with his mum when he was small to watch the lights of the boats as they sailed out to sea.’
‘And he had been there.’
‘Yes. A fisherman saw him. That’s why I decided to come to you, and why I’m convinced something’s wrong.’
Maggie sat forward. ‘Go on.’
‘A fisherman, Rob, was getting ready to go out in his trawler. He told me that he’d seen Mitch talking to a man on the other side of the harbour. He thinks it was the night James dropped him off, at roughly ten o’clock – although he couldn’t swear to the time or date. He and his mate go out almost every night. I guess the days all run into one.’
Ryan asked, ‘But he was sure it was Mitch?’
‘Yes. As I said, Mitch liked it there. He was known for being there in the evenings, sitting on the harbour wall, watching the water and the boats. He told me once it helped him unwind after arguing with his dad. Anyway this was the first time Rob had seen Mitch with someone else.’
‘What could he tell you about the person Mitch was with?’
‘Very little. Tall and dressed in black.’
‘He couldn’t give you an estimate of age?’ Maggie asked.
‘No.’ Linda sighed. ‘I’m sorry, but beyond the fact that Mitch was there that night with another man, he couldn’t tell me a thing.’
Chapter Three
‘First we need to talk to this Zip—’ Maggie dropped her notebook back into her bag ‘—which could be a challenge as we don’t know his real name or where he lives.’
Ryan followed Maggie out of the café into the fresh morning air as they headed towards the nearest bus stop. ‘We should also double-check timings. If the fisherman can’t be certain about which night he saw Mitch, then our timeline could be wrong before we’ve even started building it.’
Ryan stuck out a hand as the minibus to Mousehole came into view.
Once they were seated, Maggie said, ‘Let’s get back to the chippy and put together a plan of campaign.’
Although Maggie and Ryan had only been in business for a few weeks, the bedsit above Robbins’ Fish and Chip Shop was already taking shape as the Fish and Chip Shop Detective Agency’s office.
While the bed from Ryan’s time as Mr Robbins’ tenant remained under the large picture window – which provided a stunning view of the harbour, the sea and, in the far distance, St Michael’s Mount – the remaining kitchen-cum-living area was now home to a printer, Ryan’s laptop (when it wasn’t strapped to his back in his rucksack), and an old pinboard, which they’d been using as an incident board.
Maggie busied herself clearing the board of the information accrued during their last case. ‘Once I’ve done this I’ll head downstairs to the chippy’s office. There are some empty folders in the filing cabinet we could keep old case notes in.’
‘Good idea.’ Ryan pulled up a map of Penzance on his laptop screen, zooming in on the harbour area. ‘We should keep everything, from maps and plans of the places we’ve looked into, to the receipts for the coffees we’ve had with clients.’
‘I agree.’ Maggie looked around her, a handful of drawing pins in her palm. ‘We could do with a filing cabinet in here really.’
‘I’ll see if there’s any going cheap on eBay later if you like.’
‘Great idea. Or people sometimes give them away. I know it’s not much of an office yet.’
‘It’s perfect for what we need.’ Ryan surveyed the space. ‘And now we have business cards with this address on, we have to operate from here.’
‘True.’ Maggie picked one of the cards off the table where Ryan was working. ‘I can’t believe you and Izzie designed these together.’
‘If she was here, I bet she’d be part of the team in seconds.’
A chuckle damped down the small stab of loss Maggie always felt when she pictured her daughter, thousands of miles away. ‘You’re right. She’s way too nosy not to get involved.’
Hearing the wobble in Maggie’s voice, Ryan said, ‘She’ll be home soon.’
‘I know. Thanks. I just—’
‘You’re worried that the date she’s on will lead to a happy ever after in New Zealand and not here.’
‘Got it in one.’
‘I can’t promise that won’t happen, but I think it’s unlikely. This time next year, Izzie will be home, ready to start three years at university having had the adventure of a lifetime.’
Ryan beckoned for Maggie to join him by the laptop. ‘Come and see.’
‘What am I looking at?’
‘Penzance harbour. I’ve zoomed in on the satellite image of the area.’ He placed a finger on the screen as Maggie sat down. ‘Here is where you walk in from the station side.’
‘The layby where Linda thinks James left Mitch.’
‘Assuming she’s right, and that James pulled in legally.’
‘True. Technically, he could have stopped anywhere along that road. Let’s go with the layby for now, and adjust our thinking if we need to.’ Maggie traced a line from the retail park and supermarket where, according to Linda, Mitch and his dad had done the shopping, to where Ryan was pointing. ‘So if Mitch got out of the car there it would only take, what, five minutes to walk to the harbour?’
Ryan pressed a couple of keys and pulled up the walking distance time. ‘Six minutes to enter the harbour if he headed straight there. But if he went to the pub first like he said, then it would have had to be The Tribune – if he was staying on the same side of town.’
‘Linda went there; the staff said they hadn’t seen him.’
‘Which may or may not be true.’ Ryan pulled a face. ‘We should go there ourselves.’
‘Good idea. But it might be better if you went without me. If there is anything going on that’s remotely dodgy, it’s more likely to keep happening if you are there, but with me, looking every bit like someone’s mum …’
‘I take your point.’
Guessing Ryan’s sudden unease was down to not wanting to go on his own, Maggie suggested, ‘Why don’t you arrange to go with Bryn? He’s Mitch’s cousin after all.’
‘I’ll call him later. See if he’s free tonight.’ After having met Bryn during their last case, he and Ryan had fast become good friends.
‘Talking of tonight, I want to go to the harbour to see if I can find that fisherman.’
Ryan gnawed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. ‘We should also talk to James to see if he can give us a bit more information about Mitch and Zip.’
‘I was thinking about that. Linda doesn’t have her brother’s blessing for this, so I’m not sure speaking to him would be a good idea until we’ve made some progress – although you’re right, we will need to speak to him eventually.’
‘If we aren’t going to ask James about Zip, then where do we start? Who do we ask about—’ Ryan broke off as he saw the grin on Maggie’s face. ‘Of course, we go and visit Harry.’
Chapter Four
A regular visitor to Robbins’ Fish and Chip Shop, Harry was a beloved customer – and also a valued source of village gossip. His terraced home, on The Wharf in Mousehole, overlooked the harbour and the sea beyond. It had watched and weathered storms for over two centuries, seen countless fishing vessels and tourists float in and out, and silently witnessed an unknown amount of smuggling and intrigue – and now, as its latest owner, a pensioner with a love of puzzles, people, and Robbins’ fish and chips, cheerfully observed while popping a tea cosy over his teapot, it was the site of a new intrigue, thanks to his friends.
As Maggie carried a tray of tea things into his front room, Harry waved his walking stick at Ryan. ‘Would you mind fetching the biscuit tin, me’ansom?’
‘Still in the cupboard nearest the window?’
‘The very place.’ As Ryan bounded into the kitchen, Harry turned to Maggie. ‘Do you have a case you want to pick my brains about, or are you just taking pity on an old man who’s nothing better to do on a Sunday than work his way through a bumper puzzle book and repeats of Maigret?’
‘Michael Gambon or Rowan Atkinson?’
‘Both.’ Harry moved a thick volume of sudoku puzzles so he could put down the cup of tea Maggie was passing him.
‘I’m glad to see your “Sudoku Harry” nickname still holds water,’ Ryan said as he put the biscuit tin next to the tray. ‘How many have you done today?’
‘Just the two, but it’s early yet.’ Lifting the teacup, Harry settled back into his favoured wing-backed armchair. ‘So, you want my help? At least, I hope you do.’
‘We do.’ Maggie smiled. ‘But your company is also nice, and Ryan’s bound to want a biscuit; he’s not eaten for almost an hour.’
Harry chuckled again as the young man flipped the lid off the tin and dived a hand in. ‘You’re worse than the spaniel I used to have.’
Ryan blushed as he bit into a custard cream. ‘Thanks, Harry – for the biscuit, not the spaniel comparison.’
‘I didn’t know you’d had a dog, Harry.’ Maggie added a drop of hot water to her black tea from a jug on the tray.
‘Way before your time, lass. So, tell me all about it.’
The teapot was drained, and several more custard creams consumed, while Maggie and Ryan explained the new case they’d accepted.
‘We wondered if you’d come across this Zip character, Harry?’ Maggie asked.
‘Can’t say I have.’ The old man shook his head. ‘I know who you could ask though.’
‘You do?’
‘Of course I do, Maggie. And so do you. Call Sergeant Peters. I’d put money on David knowing someone who goes by the name of Zip. It’s not a Mr Honest sort of a nickname, is it?’
‘Perhaps he’s just really quiet.’
Harry harrumphed. ‘Doubt that, lass. Zip feels more like the name you’d give someone who’s learnt to keep his mouth shut.’ . . .
Sunday 14th September
The café, the only one in Penzance to open before ten on a Sunday morning, was already busy when Maggie and Ryan arrived.
‘I’ll grab some coffee. You want anything else?’ Ryan gestured to a blackboard over the counter displaying the breakfast options.
‘A teacake would be great. There should be time to eat before our client arrives.’
As her friend and business partner joined the queue, Maggie’s phone buzzed to signal the arrival of a text message.
Hey Mum. I bet you’re up early, raring to go after solving another case. If you’ve got time, give me a call. Izzie xxx
Maggie propped her phone against a bottle of tomato ketchup and pressed the video-call function, a wide smile on her face.
‘Mum! I knew you’d be awake. I’m so glad you called.’
Maggie’s elation that Izzie wanted to chat was instantly counteracted by the concern on her daughter’s face. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘I’m fine. I’ve been worried about you – and Ryan too. What with Mr Robbins dying and everything.’
Maggie sighed. ‘We’re okay. Still suffering from a touch of shock maybe.’
‘I’m not surprised. He’s not been gone a fortnight yet. I can’t believe he left you his shop.’
‘Nor me. I know I worked for him for ten years, but I never dreamt he’d leave me anything, let alone the chippy. The paperwork’s already underway – Mr Robbins had arranged everything in his will, so the transfer should be very straightforward once probate is complete, thank goodness, but the whole place still feels wrong without him.’
‘I bet. You’ll be brilliant at running it though. And you have Ryan to help you.’
‘I thank my lucky stars he came into my life back in June.’ Maggie lowered her voice, not wanting to be overheard. ‘Having him about makes missing you a little easier.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Izzie sounded dismayed, as though she wished she could reach out and hug her mum. ‘I’ll be back for Christmas.’
Feeling guilty for making Izzie feel bad, Maggie hastily added, ‘You’re having a fab time in New Zealand; that’s all that matters. Take no notice of me. I’m all over the place, what with inheriting the chippy just as the detective agency’s taking off. Life’s gone from being safely predictable to extremely unpredictable in a very short space of time.’
‘You’re living the dream, Mum! You always wanted to be a detective – now you are. With a brand-new case too.’
‘Ryan and I are meeting our client this morning.’ Maggie gestured around her. ‘That’s why I’m in a café this early on a Sunday.’
Izzie leaned in eagerly.
‘Linda Grayling wants you to find her nephew, right?’
‘That’s it. I just hope Ryan and I can help her.’
‘Of course you can. You’re my mum.’ Izzie beamed with pride.
As tears pricked in the corners of her eyes, Maggie muttered, ‘Thanks, love.’
‘Where’s Ryan anyway? Still in bed?’
Maggie chuckled. ‘He’s twenty-two years old and it’s a Sunday morning, so I’m sure he’d rather be, but no. He’s queuing for our breakfast.’
Izzie laughed. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him properly. Anyway, I have to go – I just wanted to make sure you were alright.’
‘It’s appreciated. Off anywhere nice?’
A pink bloom coloured Izzie’s cheeks. ‘Just out for a drink.’
Fear clutched at Maggie’s heart. ‘A date type of drink?’
‘He’s just a friend, Mum.’
As Izzie self-consciously fiddled with her hair, Maggie noted how nice her daughter was looking. ‘A friend you’ve dressed up for.’
‘It’s an excuse to get out of the working clothes. I live in dungarees or jeans these days.’
Noting Izzie’s defensive tone, Maggie backtracked. ‘And very lovely you look too. Now, off you go. Have fun!’
‘Talk soon, Mum. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
As Izzie ended the call, Maggie found herself staring at the phone screen.
She’s young, she’s attractive and she’s fun, of course someone’s asked her out. It doesn’t mean anything – she’ll come home. She’s got uni next year for a start.
Not allowing herself to give in to emotion, Maggie was about to put her phone down when another text message flashed onto the screen.
Don’t panic, Mum – I’m not going to marry him and stay here forever. Enjoy breakfast and get sleuthing. It’s time for the Fish and Chip Shop Detectives to solve another mystery!
Ryan arrived at the table with a wooden spoon bearing their order number in his hand. ‘Did I hear you on the phone?’
‘Izzie was checking up on us.’
Noting the furrow on Maggie’s forehead, Ryan asked, ‘Are you alright?’
‘I keep thinking – well, what if I’m not up to running the chippy and the agency at the same time? There’s been no time to let things sink in.’
‘I know what you mean. What with the boss dying and catching killers and everything.’
‘While simultaneously annoying the local detective inspector.’
Ryan grimaced. ‘Detective Inspector Houseman is never going to be our biggest fan. Thank goodness you’re such good friends with Sergeant Peters.’
Not commenting on her friendship with her ex-boyfriend, Maggie cradled her coffee cup. ‘Izzie was about to go out on a date when she called.’
Guessing Maggie would, on top of everything else, be worrying that her daughter wouldn’t come home if she fell in love with someone over there, Ryan steered the conversation back to the task in hand. ‘How about we concentrate on the case?’
Maggie gave him a grateful smile. ‘Good plan.’
‘So, how do you want to handle the meeting with Linda?’
‘I think to start with we should get her to go through the basics. Obviously we need to know as much as possible about her nephew. Then let’s go to where he was last seen. We can plan how to proceed from there.’ Maggie took a notebook from her bag.
‘That wouldn’t be another brand-new notebook, would it?’
‘If you’re going to tease me again about having a new notebook for each fresh case then don’t bother. It works for me. Keeps things tidy. And no, I don’t think it would be better if I used a laptop or my phone.’
Ryan held his palms up in mock surrender. ‘And it’s worked well for us so far. What’s the picture on the cover of this one?’
Maggie lifted the notebook, showing him an artist’s impression of a harbour. A few boats were dotted here and there on an azure sea, while a stretch of cliffs bordered the scene.
‘Perfect for an enquiry into a missing person who was last seen in Penzance harbour.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Maggie laid it back down. ‘I got it from the gallery in Newlyn the other day; it’s just a coincidence it matches our case so well.’
‘Let’s hope it’s a good omen and we find Linda’s nephew quickly, because while I was queuing for coffee, I checked our Facebook page. We’ve two new requests for our services. One to find a lost cat—’
‘Another one?’ Maggie’s eyebrows rose. ‘The number of felines that go astray around here is ridiculous.’
‘The other one is from a Mrs Janice Prentice, wanting to know how often her husband visits the local betting shop.’
‘If she thinks he’s having an affair with the betting clerk, then the answer is no. We don’t take that sort of case.’
‘Nothing like that. Apparently Tony Prentice likes a flutter; uses the betting shop on Chapel Street in Penzance.’
‘I know the one.’
‘He swears he goes there once a day and places one small bet, but—’
‘Let me guess, the bank account is going down faster than it should and Mrs Prentice suspects he’s gambling more frequently.’
‘Yep. She’s worried about being able to afford the rent.’
‘Poor woman. Makes me feel bad for having to charge her for confirming her fears – assuming she’s right of course.’
‘She’d be paying to put her mind at rest.’ Ryan tapped his phone case. ‘There are heaps of online casinos waiting to take your money. He could be gambling on those as well.’
‘Possibly, but if he’s comfortable with gambling remotely, why bother to go to a betting shop?’
‘To escape the house for a while?’ Ryan shrugged. ‘That’s if he is actually going to a bookie’s.’
‘Let’s start by assuming he’s told his wife the truth, and go from there.’
Ryan agreed. ‘I’ll tell her we’ll take the case then.’
‘How about we say we’ll watch him tomorrow morning and report back? It won’t take two of us. Are you okay to take the lead on this one?’
‘Sure. I’ll message her in a minute, asking for a photo of her husband and a few more details. And the cat?’
‘Depends how we get on with Linda. Reply to that enquiry this evening.’
‘Will do.’ Ryan leant back in his seat as a waitress delivered their order. He immediately picked up his coffee mug, inhaling the aroma. ‘That’s better! I don’t function too well until I’ve had at least one mug of coffee in the morning.’
‘I hear you.’ Maggie was about to take a bite of her teacake when the door to the café opened, and Linda Grayling walked in.
Chapter Two
‘Linda.’ Maggie got to her feet. ‘Can we get you a drink?’
‘A hot chocolate would be lovely. Thank you.’
‘I’ll fetch it.’ Ryan stood up. ‘Cream and marshmallows?’
‘Just plain, please.’
Maggie noticed their client’s hunched shoulders and bowed head as she sank onto the bench. ‘I’m assuming you’ve not heard from your nephew?’
‘Nothing.’ Linda looked up. ‘I hope I’m worrying over nothing, but I’ve got this feeling I can’t shake. Something is wrong.’
‘Feelings like that should never be ignored.’
‘That’s what I thought. If I did nothing, and Mitch was in trouble …’
‘You’d never forgive yourself.’ Maggie nodded sympathetically.
‘James, my brother and Mitch’s dad, thinks I’m fussing because my husband is dead and not around to annoy.’
‘That’s a bit harsh.’
‘His wife Angela walked out on him and Mitch five years ago. It hit James hard.’ Linda looked drawn. ‘He never used to say such cruel things. I try to cut him some slack, but sometimes …’
‘It must be difficult,’ Maggie said diplomatically as she opened her notebook. ‘Once Ryan comes back I’ll take a few notes. Make sure we all understand what needs doing.’
‘Sounds good. I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t met you both.’
‘Found another agency.’
Linda shook her head. ‘I doubt hiring private detectives would have crossed my mind before you came into my office when you were investigating Mr Robbins’ death.’
As Ryan returned, a mug of hot chocolate in hand, Maggie said, ‘We’ll do everything we can to find Mitch, but we can’t promise success.’
‘I appreciate your candour.’ Linda placed her palms on the table. ‘What would you like to know first?’
‘Let’s start with the basics.’ Maggie removed the lid from her pen. ‘Mitch’s full name, age and address.’
‘Mitchell Ashley. He’s nineteen, and he lives with his father at 9 Alma Road, Penzance.’
As Maggie wrote down Linda’s responses, Ryan took over the questioning. ‘Is he working or at college? University?’
‘Unemployed. Failed his A levels last year.’ Linda wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. ‘Mitch always did okay at school. He’s practical rather than academic, but he still got eight GCSEs – all Cs. He was disappointed not to get a few Bs, but I remember saying the Cs stood for consistent. Cheered him up … that’s when he decided to stay on at school to do A levels in the sixth form.’
‘He went to the local academy?’ When Linda nodded, Maggie ventured, ‘You mentioned his mum left five years ago.’
‘Things had been bad between Angela and James for a while, but they kept trying for Mitch’s sake. I’ll be the first to admit that James is not always easy to be around. One day Angela just upped and left. Without Mitch.’
‘Do you know why she left him behind?’
‘I don’t, Maggie. Maybe she just wanted a clean break. Or she may have thought it was best for Mitch to have a stable home with his GCSEs coming up.’
‘But to leave your teenage son …’ Ryan left his sentence hanging in the air. ‘Can I ask what you meant when you said James isn’t easy to be around?’
‘Short temper. Not good at holding down a job. Consequently, money’s always tight. I did wonder if Angela’d found someone easier to live with – but I’ve no evidence of that.’
‘What does James think?’
‘He’s too angry to think. My brother has never come to terms with his wife leaving him. In his heart, I’m sure he knows he treated her badly – I can’t decide if he’s broken-hearted or simply furious with her or himself, or both.’ Linda let out a heavy sigh. ‘James started to drink too much as well, making him even more morose. And alcohol tends to inflame his temper further.’
‘I see.’ Maggie found herself wondering if Mitch had gone away to escape his father’s ire.
Changing the direction of the interview, Ryan asked, ‘What does Mitch look like?’
‘Short ginger hair, sprinkle of freckles. Here.’ Linda opened her phone. ‘I’ve got a picture. I’ll WhatsApp it over.’
Maggie and Ryan found themselves looking at a boy who was entirely average. Average height, average appearance, average clothing – black jeans and white T-shirt. His only distinctive feature was his red hair.
‘Is there anything else about him we should know? Regional accent? Left-handed? Only ever wears Nikes? That sort of thing?’
Linda shook her head at Ryan. ‘Sounds local, no handy limp or anything, right-handed and he wears New Balance trainers; like almost everyone else these days.’
Ryan glanced down at his own feet, encased in black New Balances. ‘Could we have his telephone number and email address? You never know, he might answer if he doesn’t recognise the number.’
Linda took the pen Maggie offered her and jotted them down in her notebook. ‘You think he might be avoiding family, rather than having gone missing.’
‘It’s an angle we should consider. It’s possible he just needed a break from his dad.’
‘To be honest, that’s what James thinks. But why hide from me? We’re close – at least, I thought we were.’ Holding her hot chocolate to her chest, Linda went on, ‘When Angela left, Mitch tried hard. I suppose he felt he had to, in case his dad left him too. He threw himself into his studies, was helpful, and – if I’m honest – Mitch was the one James relied on, not the other way around. And that was as big a problem as his mum deserting him – although James can’t, or won’t, see that. Mitch gradually became resentful of being the only one who did the cooking and cleaning. But, over the last six months, Mitch simply stopped trying. At home and at school. While he and I remained close, Mitch and James drifted apart. They’re like people in a house-share rather than father and son.’
Maggie jotted down a few more notes. ‘When did you last see Mitch?’
‘Almost three weeks ago. I was trying to get them to talk without arguing, so I invited Mitch and James over for a barbecue on Bank Holiday Monday. I was amazed they came, to be honest.’
Ryan opened his phone’s calendar. ‘That would have been the twenty-fifth of August.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Who else was there?’
‘Just James, Mitch, me – and Bryn of course.’ Linda smiled as she mentioned her son’s name. ‘It was nice. A bit strained sometimes between James and Mitch, but there were no fights or anything.’
‘And when was the last time Bryn saw him?’
‘Same time as I did. Mitch and James left our house together at around seven that evening.’ Linda took a sip of her drink. ‘James, however, last saw Mitch on Saturday the sixth of September. He dropped Mitch off near Penzance railway station at about eight in the evening, after they’d been to the supermarket.’
Maggie glanced at the date on her phone. ‘It’s the fourteenth today, so that’s a total of eight days since a family member has seen him. Any phone or email contact since then?’
‘Nothing. He told his dad he was off for a drink with his mates, but Mitch only has one friend that we know of. A lad known as Zip.’
‘Zip?’ Maggie frowned. ‘And his real name?’
‘No idea.’
‘Did you ask your brother if he knows where Zip lives or works?’
‘I did ask – but he didn’t know.’
Maggie thought for a moment. ‘Do you know where Mitch was heading for this drink?’
‘No. James keeps saying, “He’s nineteen, he can do what he likes.” He’s forbidden me from reporting Mitch as missing.’
‘As Mitch is over eighteen and his father doesn’t consider him to be at risk, the police might not be that interested, even though he’s been gone for well over forty-eight hours.’
‘That’s why I decided to take a leaf out of your book.’
‘How do you mean?’ Maggie drank some of her fast-cooling coffee.
‘Before I’d decided to hire you, I took a photo of Mitch to Penzance station, the nearby pubs, and the harbour.’
‘That’s the first thing we were planning to do,’ Maggie said approvingly. ‘When was this?’
‘Night before last.’
Maggie wrote down 12th September in her book. ‘What did you discover?’
‘No one recalled seeing him in the local pubs.’
‘Or at least admitted to seeing him,’ Ryan pointed out.
Linda’s brow furrowed. ‘I suppose that’s possible, but as a fair while had passed since the sixth, I knew asking was a long shot.’
Ryan nodded. ‘After the station and pubs, you tried the harbour?’
‘Yes. He used to go there in the evenings with his mum when he was small to watch the lights of the boats as they sailed out to sea.’
‘And he had been there.’
‘Yes. A fisherman saw him. That’s why I decided to come to you, and why I’m convinced something’s wrong.’
Maggie sat forward. ‘Go on.’
‘A fisherman, Rob, was getting ready to go out in his trawler. He told me that he’d seen Mitch talking to a man on the other side of the harbour. He thinks it was the night James dropped him off, at roughly ten o’clock – although he couldn’t swear to the time or date. He and his mate go out almost every night. I guess the days all run into one.’
Ryan asked, ‘But he was sure it was Mitch?’
‘Yes. As I said, Mitch liked it there. He was known for being there in the evenings, sitting on the harbour wall, watching the water and the boats. He told me once it helped him unwind after arguing with his dad. Anyway this was the first time Rob had seen Mitch with someone else.’
‘What could he tell you about the person Mitch was with?’
‘Very little. Tall and dressed in black.’
‘He couldn’t give you an estimate of age?’ Maggie asked.
‘No.’ Linda sighed. ‘I’m sorry, but beyond the fact that Mitch was there that night with another man, he couldn’t tell me a thing.’
Chapter Three
‘First we need to talk to this Zip—’ Maggie dropped her notebook back into her bag ‘—which could be a challenge as we don’t know his real name or where he lives.’
Ryan followed Maggie out of the café into the fresh morning air as they headed towards the nearest bus stop. ‘We should also double-check timings. If the fisherman can’t be certain about which night he saw Mitch, then our timeline could be wrong before we’ve even started building it.’
Ryan stuck out a hand as the minibus to Mousehole came into view.
Once they were seated, Maggie said, ‘Let’s get back to the chippy and put together a plan of campaign.’
Although Maggie and Ryan had only been in business for a few weeks, the bedsit above Robbins’ Fish and Chip Shop was already taking shape as the Fish and Chip Shop Detective Agency’s office.
While the bed from Ryan’s time as Mr Robbins’ tenant remained under the large picture window – which provided a stunning view of the harbour, the sea and, in the far distance, St Michael’s Mount – the remaining kitchen-cum-living area was now home to a printer, Ryan’s laptop (when it wasn’t strapped to his back in his rucksack), and an old pinboard, which they’d been using as an incident board.
Maggie busied herself clearing the board of the information accrued during their last case. ‘Once I’ve done this I’ll head downstairs to the chippy’s office. There are some empty folders in the filing cabinet we could keep old case notes in.’
‘Good idea.’ Ryan pulled up a map of Penzance on his laptop screen, zooming in on the harbour area. ‘We should keep everything, from maps and plans of the places we’ve looked into, to the receipts for the coffees we’ve had with clients.’
‘I agree.’ Maggie looked around her, a handful of drawing pins in her palm. ‘We could do with a filing cabinet in here really.’
‘I’ll see if there’s any going cheap on eBay later if you like.’
‘Great idea. Or people sometimes give them away. I know it’s not much of an office yet.’
‘It’s perfect for what we need.’ Ryan surveyed the space. ‘And now we have business cards with this address on, we have to operate from here.’
‘True.’ Maggie picked one of the cards off the table where Ryan was working. ‘I can’t believe you and Izzie designed these together.’
‘If she was here, I bet she’d be part of the team in seconds.’
A chuckle damped down the small stab of loss Maggie always felt when she pictured her daughter, thousands of miles away. ‘You’re right. She’s way too nosy not to get involved.’
Hearing the wobble in Maggie’s voice, Ryan said, ‘She’ll be home soon.’
‘I know. Thanks. I just—’
‘You’re worried that the date she’s on will lead to a happy ever after in New Zealand and not here.’
‘Got it in one.’
‘I can’t promise that won’t happen, but I think it’s unlikely. This time next year, Izzie will be home, ready to start three years at university having had the adventure of a lifetime.’
Ryan beckoned for Maggie to join him by the laptop. ‘Come and see.’
‘What am I looking at?’
‘Penzance harbour. I’ve zoomed in on the satellite image of the area.’ He placed a finger on the screen as Maggie sat down. ‘Here is where you walk in from the station side.’
‘The layby where Linda thinks James left Mitch.’
‘Assuming she’s right, and that James pulled in legally.’
‘True. Technically, he could have stopped anywhere along that road. Let’s go with the layby for now, and adjust our thinking if we need to.’ Maggie traced a line from the retail park and supermarket where, according to Linda, Mitch and his dad had done the shopping, to where Ryan was pointing. ‘So if Mitch got out of the car there it would only take, what, five minutes to walk to the harbour?’
Ryan pressed a couple of keys and pulled up the walking distance time. ‘Six minutes to enter the harbour if he headed straight there. But if he went to the pub first like he said, then it would have had to be The Tribune – if he was staying on the same side of town.’
‘Linda went there; the staff said they hadn’t seen him.’
‘Which may or may not be true.’ Ryan pulled a face. ‘We should go there ourselves.’
‘Good idea. But it might be better if you went without me. If there is anything going on that’s remotely dodgy, it’s more likely to keep happening if you are there, but with me, looking every bit like someone’s mum …’
‘I take your point.’
Guessing Ryan’s sudden unease was down to not wanting to go on his own, Maggie suggested, ‘Why don’t you arrange to go with Bryn? He’s Mitch’s cousin after all.’
‘I’ll call him later. See if he’s free tonight.’ After having met Bryn during their last case, he and Ryan had fast become good friends.
‘Talking of tonight, I want to go to the harbour to see if I can find that fisherman.’
Ryan gnawed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. ‘We should also talk to James to see if he can give us a bit more information about Mitch and Zip.’
‘I was thinking about that. Linda doesn’t have her brother’s blessing for this, so I’m not sure speaking to him would be a good idea until we’ve made some progress – although you’re right, we will need to speak to him eventually.’
‘If we aren’t going to ask James about Zip, then where do we start? Who do we ask about—’ Ryan broke off as he saw the grin on Maggie’s face. ‘Of course, we go and visit Harry.’
Chapter Four
A regular visitor to Robbins’ Fish and Chip Shop, Harry was a beloved customer – and also a valued source of village gossip. His terraced home, on The Wharf in Mousehole, overlooked the harbour and the sea beyond. It had watched and weathered storms for over two centuries, seen countless fishing vessels and tourists float in and out, and silently witnessed an unknown amount of smuggling and intrigue – and now, as its latest owner, a pensioner with a love of puzzles, people, and Robbins’ fish and chips, cheerfully observed while popping a tea cosy over his teapot, it was the site of a new intrigue, thanks to his friends.
As Maggie carried a tray of tea things into his front room, Harry waved his walking stick at Ryan. ‘Would you mind fetching the biscuit tin, me’ansom?’
‘Still in the cupboard nearest the window?’
‘The very place.’ As Ryan bounded into the kitchen, Harry turned to Maggie. ‘Do you have a case you want to pick my brains about, or are you just taking pity on an old man who’s nothing better to do on a Sunday than work his way through a bumper puzzle book and repeats of Maigret?’
‘Michael Gambon or Rowan Atkinson?’
‘Both.’ Harry moved a thick volume of sudoku puzzles so he could put down the cup of tea Maggie was passing him.
‘I’m glad to see your “Sudoku Harry” nickname still holds water,’ Ryan said as he put the biscuit tin next to the tray. ‘How many have you done today?’
‘Just the two, but it’s early yet.’ Lifting the teacup, Harry settled back into his favoured wing-backed armchair. ‘So, you want my help? At least, I hope you do.’
‘We do.’ Maggie smiled. ‘But your company is also nice, and Ryan’s bound to want a biscuit; he’s not eaten for almost an hour.’
Harry chuckled again as the young man flipped the lid off the tin and dived a hand in. ‘You’re worse than the spaniel I used to have.’
Ryan blushed as he bit into a custard cream. ‘Thanks, Harry – for the biscuit, not the spaniel comparison.’
‘I didn’t know you’d had a dog, Harry.’ Maggie added a drop of hot water to her black tea from a jug on the tray.
‘Way before your time, lass. So, tell me all about it.’
The teapot was drained, and several more custard creams consumed, while Maggie and Ryan explained the new case they’d accepted.
‘We wondered if you’d come across this Zip character, Harry?’ Maggie asked.
‘Can’t say I have.’ The old man shook his head. ‘I know who you could ask though.’
‘You do?’
‘Of course I do, Maggie. And so do you. Call Sergeant Peters. I’d put money on David knowing someone who goes by the name of Zip. It’s not a Mr Honest sort of a nickname, is it?’
‘Perhaps he’s just really quiet.’
Harry harrumphed. ‘Doubt that, lass. Zip feels more like the name you’d give someone who’s learnt to keep his mouth shut.’ . . .
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The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives and a Mystery at Sea
Jenny Kane
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