“Never mind. I suppose I could pop in again next month, and we’ll catch up on it all then.”
“Great.”
“This does tie in rather nicely to something else I wanted to discuss with you today. Recording your income and expenditure by collecting dozens of scraps of paper is now totally outdated.”
“It is?”
“Absolutely. That system belongs back in the dark ages. Do you have a mobile phone, Jill?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Could I borrow it?”
“Err, sure.” I handed it to her.
“I’m just going to install an app called SnapExp.”
“Is that some kind of dating app?”
“No.” She laughed. “Every time you get a bill or receipt, use this app to scan it. The app will automatically input the details into the accounting system, which means that your accounts will be up to date all of the time. It also means when we have these meetings, we’ll be able to have much more meaningful discussions about your business, rather than having to sift through mountains of paperwork. Does that work for you?”
“I guess so. Is it difficult to use?”
“Not at all. You simply use it as you would a camera. Put the receipt or invoice on the desk, snap a picture of it with the app, and Bob’s your uncle.”
How many more times? No, he isn’t.
“So?” Mrs V said, after Starr had left. “What did you make of your new accountant?”
“To be perfectly honest, I didn’t really take to her. She’s too much. Much too much. I just need somebody who will sort out my books and tell me how much money I’ve made.”
“Or lost.”
“Thanks for that, Mrs V. That Starr woman wants to take over my business. She was talking about blue sky boxes—whatever they are. And she’s put this stupid app on my phone.”
“What does it do?”
“I’m supposed to take pictures of all my bills and receipts, but I don’t really have a clue how to use it.”
“What are you going to do about her?”
“I’m not sure. Look for another accountant probably. An old-school one who just wants to deal with numbers.”
Mrs V was just about to leave my office when she glanced over at Winky and almost jumped out of her skin.
“Why would you buy him that horrible eye patch, Jill? It looks like his eye has grown back.”
“I didn’t buy it.”
“Who did, then?”
“I—err—I’m going to get rid of it.”
“Please do. It’s making me feel queasy.”
After she’d left the office. I turned to Winky. “See? What did I tell you? Nobody likes your new eye patch.”
“I don’t care what anyone else thinks, and what do you mean, you’re going to get rid of it? I’d like to see you try.”
***
I’d decided to call it a day, and I was just about to go downstairs, when I saw a woman come out of the door at the other end of the corridor. I thought I should go over and introduce myself.
“Hi, there. I’m Jill Maxwell. I work in the office just down the corridor.”
“I’m Farah. Farah Close. You must be the private investigator.”
“That’s me.” I glanced up at the sign. “Bubbles? We were trying to work out what kind of business it might be. Are you a hairdresser?”
“Actually, no. I’m a dog groomer. I’ve been working as a mobile groomer until now. This is the first place I’ve had of my own. I’m really very excited. Do you have dogs, Jill?”
“Yes, one. Well, two, I suppose.” She gave me a puzzled look. “It’s a little complicated. I have a Chihuahua at home.”
“Such lovely dogs, and very easy to groom too.”
“My ‘other’ dog doesn’t actually live with me all the time. He’s a Labradoodle.”
“That’s a very different proposition. They’re very lively dogs, as I’m sure you know. Much more expensive when it comes to the grooming. We open next Monday; all shampoos will be free on that day, on a first-come, first-served basis.”
“Well, the very best of luck with your new venture.”
“Thanks, Jill. Drop by for a cup of tea any time you like.”
***
I’d intended to pop into one of the shops in Washbridge city centre, to pick up some custard creams because I’d eaten the last one that morning. Unfortunately, I’d been so busy with the new accountant, and so distracted by Winky’s freaky eye patch, that it had totally slipped my mind. Not a problem. The local store in Middle Tweaking was bound to stock the most popular biscuits in the country.
I parked outside the old watermill, but instead of going straight into the house, I nipped over to the store. Once inside, it quickly became obvious that the main problem would be locating the biscuits. They could literally be anywhere. I did find some ginger nuts, which were next to the cabbages. On a separate aisle, I found fig biscuits, Garibaldis, and Jammie Dodgers, next to the breakfast cereal. But, as for custard creams, I drew a complete blank.
Behind the counter, Cynthia Stock was writing in what looked like a large, old fashioned ledger.
“Hello, Jill. Sorry, I didn’t notice you come in. I’m just updating my stock book.”
“Is that really where you record your stock?”
“Yes, we’ve used books like this one for years. It’s a foolproof method. Every now and then, we get someone in here, trying to sell us one of those new-fangled computer systems, but you can’t beat pen and paper, can you?”
“Err, I guess not.”
I’d always thought I was something of a Luddite, but compared to Mrs Stock, I was at the cutting edge of technology. “I just popped in for some custard creams. Do you know where I could find them?”
“Did you check next to the tea bags, Jill?”
“No, I didn’t. Where are the tea bags?”
“Next to the carrots. If you turn
