Tart Wreck Repackage

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  • #5617
    TracyTracy
    Participant

     💫to be sTarted…… 🌟🌟

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  • #5625
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Start, Tart.

    #5636
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “We’ll start as soon as we get our first client, Tara,” replied Star, “And don’t keep calling me a tart. You had better get out of the habit or you might do it accidentally when we’re working on a case.”

    “What if we don’t get any clients? We’ve advertised everywhere we can think of. Once we get started, we’ll get recommendations, we’ll probably have to take on staff, we’ll be so busy.” A wistful look crept into Tara’s eye. She’d never been a boss, never been in the position of telling a subordinate what to do. It had a certain appeal.  “Anyway, you are a tart.”

    “Was, Tara, was. We are not tarts now, and nobody needs to know what we did for a living before.  Nothing shameful in it of course, but people have such antiquated ideas; it might put them off. They don’t need to know that we might be able to use our skills to our advantage to solve cases.”

    “I’d rather solve cases with our new skills,” said Tara.  “Remote viewing, out of body travel, lucid dreaming, that sort of thing.”

    “Never a bad thing to have an assorted tool box,” replied Star. “We have unique skills compared to most private investigators. Just thank your lucky stars that we escaped the eagle eye of Madame Limonella.  She’ll never think to look for us in here in Melbourne, she’s probably thinking we’ll fetch up in some back street dive in Perth, desperate for our jobs back.”

    “Well it might come to that if we don’t get any cases to solve,” Tara said glumly, “And on less money too, we’re not spring chickens any more.”

    “Don’t be silly,” Star snapped. “We’re not even 40 yet. If we were too young we wouldn’t be taken seriously.”

    “Not even close to 40,” replied Tara, who was 33. “You are, though,” she said to Star, who was sensitive about being 39.

    Star was just about to call her a rude tart when the phone rang.

    #5638
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “Cartwright and Wrexham Private Investigators, can I help you?”

    “Do you do missing persons?” Vince asked, getting straight to the point.  “Good, well then can I speak to a detective; it’s a very confidential matter.”

    “Speaking!” replied Star, elated to receive a business inquiry, but simultaneously feeling a spasm of irritation at the mans attitude.  “Star Wrexham, what can I do for you, Mr…?”

    “French, Vince French.”  Smoothing his hair and glancing in the wall mirror, Vince added, “You will have heard of me and my world famous melodious voice.”

    Star had not, but replied encouraging, “Oh, I see.  You can be sure of the utmost confidentiality and discretion, Mr French.  Our credentials are unimpeachable.  The missing person is..?”

    “My uncle Basil, he’s gone. He got in with that cult, and now he’s gone. They’ve seduced him with all that mumbo jumbo and hype and parlour tricks, I could see it coming, I tell you, I knew they’d take him.” Vince was becoming emotional. “And now he’s left me.”

    “Well if it’s your uncle, he must be, how old?  So what if he wants to join a cult?” said Star, wondering why he was being so melodramatic.  “What?” she whispered to Tara who was pulling faces and shaking her head. “Oh, right!” she replied, getting the message.

    “Now then Mr French, I’m confident that we can find your uncle. We have some experience with cults and know how they operate.  If you’d like to make an appointment with our secretary to pop in to the office as soon as possible..”

    Star handed the phone to Tara. “Ms Cartwright, if you wouldn’t mind? The gentleman caller would like to make an appointment.”

    “I’m a senior partner, not a secretary!” Tara hissed, taking the phone.  Her anger subsided when she heard his voice. Where had she heard that voice before?

    #5644
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “You are so bloody childish, Tara” said Star. She slammed her cup of coffee on the desk so that it slopped over the sides.  “Damn,” she said, wiping it up with her sleeve.

    “It was my idea and you’ve just taken over. The way you always do.”

    “Your idea? What are you? Three years old?”

    With dignity, Tara rose. She closed her laptop, straightened it on the desk so it ran parallel to the sides, and, using a cloth made for that very purpose, dusted it. “I’m going out for some fresh air. ”

    “Well you won’t find it round here. It’s worse than China they said on the news today. Oh, OKAY, Tara. DON’T GO. The business was your idea and I promise I won’t treat you like a secretary. Happy?”

    Tara smiled sweetly. “That’s all I need to hear.” She rubbed her hands together. “Right, time to find Uncle Basil. Last night I had a dream…”

    “Ooooh, do tell, Was Mr Sexy voice in it?”

    “No, but Uncle Basil was. And he said, cold snap and falling reptiles.”

    Star furrowed her brow. “Okay, well … we shouldn’t discount anything at this stage.”

    “It’s bound to be a clue. Speaking of secretaries … I have a niece, Rosamund. She a bit rough around the edges but I’m sure she could answer phones and make our coffee.”

    “Great idea, Tara! As usual. Get her to come in and do a trial.”

    #5653
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Rosamund narrowed her heavily mascaraed eyes. “How much are you going to pay me?” she asked, reaching into the back of her jeans. “Thong’s all up my damn crack!”

    Tara and Star glanced at each other. “It’s work experience really,” said Star.

    “I don’t do cleaning.” Rosamund held out her hands. “See? Fancy nails eh? Can’t risk it.”

    Tara took a deep breath before speaking.  “It’s just answering phones and … stuff. If you don’t want to … that’s fine. ”

    “Didn’t say I wasn’t keen. I can start right now if you guys want.”

    #5661
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    “Y’were in a cult?” breaking the odd silence, Rosamund left her mouth gaping between messaging-styled sentences and chewing of gum. “What kind of cult?” she said, resuming the noisy chewing.

    Tara rolled her eyes, thinking how she just needed another baby-sitting now. There was a case to crack, and it was their first client. She went for her favorite subtly make-a-ton approach. “Oh yeah, right. Abso-lu-tely. A damn strange cult at that.” Then, when she got her hooked well, she went for the elusive-slightly-patronizing approach. She was good like that. “But I think you’re too young for the crazy details, might have you wet your bed at night.”

    She immediately regretted her last sentence.

    Changing the topic, Tara asked. “What kind of cult indeed. That’s the damn bloody question we forgot to ask!”

    Rosamund put a cocky smirk on her lips and mouthed “amateurs”. Could have been the chewing, Tara couldn’t tell. She was myopic but refused to wear corrective eyewear, so she had to strain at times, which gave her a funny wrinkled look.

    Star, who’d just been back from her shopping at Jiborium’s emporium was drenched head to toe and interrupted the exciting conversation.

    “I’ve got us all we need for our invertigastion.”

    “she means investigation” Tara knew better than to correct the verbal typos Star couldn’t help but utter by the minute, but it was more a knee-jerk response than anything else.

    “Did you find clues too in the clue department?”

    “As a matter of fact, I did. Got us that well-worn out book at a bargain price. Have a look.”

    #5667
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    The house was dark when Vince got home, not like it used to be when Uncle Basil was there. He’d have had something simmering on the stove and the curtains closed, the lamps lit.  “Gin and tonic?” he’d call out from the kitchen table, more often than not, sitting with a pile of books and a glass of sherry.

    If only I hadn’t kept making fun of his books, Vince thought, not for the first time. If only I’d made him feel comfortable here in his own home with all that stuff instead of ridiculing him, he wouldn’t have gone.

    What if he sells the house?  Vince sighed and flipped on the lights.  As soon as those people found out he had property, and money, well it didn’t bear thinking about. Vince would be out on his ear.

    #5738
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Star was perusing the messages in the cults online forum, having joined the private group under the name of Writhe Mamble.  It was time consuming, and a task that Star hoped to delegate to Rosamund.  But first she needed to familiarize herself with the angle of the dogma and the leanings of the various members, as well as the physical data: photos, location, age and other affiliations.

    Star had to keep reminding herself that it was of no importance whether or not she agreed with some of the messages, or strongly disagreed.  Never the less she found herself liking some of the members as she read more, as well as wanting to slap others.

    She made a note: remain neutral and remember why you are there.  Star couldn’t help wondering uneasily how Rosamund would be at remaining neutral.

    Maybe easier than you can manage it, said Granola, the voice appearing as if from nowhere.

    “Easier than I can manage what?” asked Rosamund, crashing into the room with an armful of pizza boxes. Without pausing for an answer, she continued, “Mum’s having a fit, I might have to have tomorrow off work to go and calm her down. She’s talking about locking the house up and moving in with me. I can’t have that, I got a bit of business going on at the flat, you know what I mean?” Rosumund wiped the tomato sauce off her mouth with her sleeve.

    “But why is she threatening to do that?” asked Star, who wasn’t the least bit interested.

    “Her sister’s on her way over.” Misinterpreting Star’s raised eyebrow, Rosamund added. “Oh yes. THAT sister.”

    #5790
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Rosamund’s Aunt Joanie is a vegan anti-vaxxer,” said Tara, frowning at the large piece of pizza being shovelled into Rosamund’s mouth.

    “That’s right,” Rosamund nodded enthusiastically. “Anti-vegan vaxxer and she don’t eat nothing with no eyes either. She drives Mum bloody mental going on about how the animals have got souls while Mum’s trying to enjoy a nice baccy fry up. Mum calls her Aunt Moanie.”

    Tara shuddered and turned her attention firmly to the laptop. “This is very strange,” she muttered. “Star, what exactly do we know about Mr Vince French?”

    Star smirked. “Other than his obvious attributes?”

    “Which are?” Tara’s voice was sharp and Star sighed. Tara could be a mardy cow sometimes.

    “You mean the fella with the voice like a bloody angel?” asked Rosamund, spitting an olive onto Tara’s sleeve. Tara swore under her breath as the olive bounced to the floor. Fortunately there was no mark; it was a new blouse and had cost Tara an arm and a leg. Worth the investment, she had reasoned at the time. One must look the part. And clearly, her Moulin Rouge ensemble wasn’t a good look for a Professional Investigator, even with fishnets and a feather boa.

    “He cancelled his appointment but he paid the, quite frankly exorbitant, deposit we asked for,” said Star. “He’s going to email us the rest of the details. Do we need to know more that that?”

    “Well, I’ve been doing a search and there is nothing anywhere online about him, or his world famous melodious voice. I suggest we pay this Mr French a visit.”

    “Oh bloody awesome!” Rosamund leapt to her feet and pizza boxes went flying. “Oops, sorry about that. I’ll clean it soon as we get back.”

    “You’re not coming!” shouted Tara and Star simultaneously.

    #5798
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “Well one of you isn’t going either!” Rosamund shouted through the door, as Tara and Star headed out. “One of you better get back in here to hold the fort. Mum’s been on the phone, says she’s packing her bags for sure this time. It’s not just Auntie Joanie coming, Auntie April’s on her way too! I gotta go and calm her down.”

    “This is not the most salubrious start for a new employee,” muttered Star.

    “We can’t afford anyone else yet!” Tara whispered back.

    “You stay and hold the fort then. I’ll go and see to Vince,” Star replied.  “Might get more out of him if only one of us goes, know what I mean?” she said with a lewd wink.  “Here’s my password to the cult forum. See what you can find out. And don’t start making daft comments on there!  Neutral observations only!”

    “Rosamund,” Tara said sternly, “You have two days leave of absence only, I expect you back here on Friday.”

    #5807
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    The front door of Mr French had a certain Gothic quality to it which caught the eye of Star. She was a sucker for the glitz and the extravagant –the more garish, the better. Had she got her way, their office would be full of the cumbersome stuff. Catching the glint in Star’s green eyes, Tara rolled hers. She clanged the metal lion to signal their presence.

    A decrepit butler called off their ruckus after what seemed like a pause in eternity. They could hear the rambling from a distance behind the door. “I’m coming! No need for such noise! Ah, these youngs nowadays, not a shred of patience!…”

    “Are you sure about it Star? After all, the deposit check cleared, why should we be concerned about Mr French. And we still haven’t got much to go on about Uncle Basil…”

    “Shttt, let me handle it,” replied Star shaping her face into a genial one, oozing honey and butterflies.

    When the butler finally opened the door, he snapped her shut “We’re not interested in whatever… hem, services you’re offering Mesdames.”

    Tara caught Star’s hand mid-air, as it was about to fly and land square on the rude dried up mummy’s face in front of them.

    “Sir, you must have us confused. We’ve been hired a week ago by Mr French for a very private matter we cannot obviously discuss on the doorstep. Please check with Mr French, maybe?”

    The butler’s face turned sour. “Yes of course, I understand. Then you should know Mr French has been in a coma since his dreadful accident last month. Since you have a direct line to him, I suggest you… call him?” And with that, he slammed the door shut on their faces.

    “Rude!” Tara mouthed.

    “At least, that tells us something my dear.”

    “Don’t bait me like this. I’ll ask, what exactly?”

    “That our Mr French is not who he says he is…”

    “I wonder if it has something to do with the immense fortune he made with his voice…”

    “That would be a very interesting question to answer indeed.”

    #5817
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Wait!” hissed Tara. She grabbed Star’s arm and pulled her behind one of the ornamental pear trees which graced either side of the front path.

    “Ouch! that hurt!”

    “Look!” Tara nodded towards the mansion. “Over there, far window. It’s open.”

    Star, still smarting from being unceremoniously dragged into the bushes, shrugged her shoulders. “So?”

    “We’ve come all this way. We can’t go without a fight! Let’s break in!” Tara’s face was animated. “I mean, who is going to stop us? That butler could barely walk and Mr French is supposedly in a coma … and … well, don’t you think it seems strange about the accident and everything?”

    “A bit odd. I suppose we could give it a go,” said Star grudgingly, (though privately impressed by Tara’s bold suggestion), “At least pop our heads in the window … see what’s what.”

    Keeping low under cover of the ornamental pears, they crept back towards the house. “Did that curtain move?” whispered Star. “It fluttered, the room next to the open window!”

    #5830
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    “Well, that was certainly enlightening.” Star said, once they got out of the bushes where they’d fell.

    Tara looked at the bushes and mused “Must be what they mean when they say it all went pear-shaped from now on…”

    “Nonsense, Tara. At least we now know there’s a good chance the real Vince was planning to spread some pathogen into the cult, got caught and sent into a coma for it.”

    “Shouldn’t we leave Rosamund with those silly conspiracy theories? After all, we were hired to find Basil, not to save the world.”

    “Thank the Mother for that, we’re not equipped, and it can’t afford our saving.”

    “Speak for yourself!” hissed Tara. “So, Basil? Any idea where he might be now?”

    “My guess he’s held prisoner at the cult. We should give it a second look.”

    “Might be tougher now it’s in lockdown.”

    Star grinned widely. “I always knew I’d find good use for those nice fancy party nurse dresses.”

    #5831
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    “Are you sure this is a good idea? Replacing all our culture with carrots seems a bit extreme.”

    “We entered unheard of territory. And yes, carrots are the future of our community. We need more carrots.”

    “Do you mind illuminating my inferior mind?”

    “What do you think? People are allowed to go out only in a few cases. Walking your dog, buying food. It is easier to grow carrots than to breed puppies. It also take less time. We need to be able to go out at will. Take a bunch of carrots and no policeman can tell that you weren’t out for illicit purpose.”

    “Oh! You’re so clever. No wonder you’re the head of our new cult.”

    “Indeed.”

    #5837
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    The nurse outfits were a good size too tight.

    “I didn’t realize that cult was short for horticulture,” Tara said, while struggling with the chafing elastic band of her… mask. She almost regretted that mission wasn’t risqué enough to warrant the Moulin Rouge ensemble.

    “Don’t be daft,” Star answered, not knowing what else to say. She clearly wasn’t expecting carrots either. Although it sort of made sense in a culinary continuity sort of way, now they were looking for basil, come to think of it.

    “Where do you think they’ll be keeping him?” whispered Tara.

    “With the garlic and butter?” guffawed Star Wrexham.

    “HEY! You two!” someone waved at them from the back. “Yes you two! About time you arrived!”

    It was too late to flee. Tara rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t take one minute for their undercover to be uncovered.
    But with Star’s luck, the guy could well guide them straight to the missing uncle Basil. Unless of course there was another side business of the cult which required scantily dressed as nurse ladies, and they could still hope to blend in… Either or, but in any case, they would figure it out pretty soon.

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