Witch Is When Things Fell Apart (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 4)

by Adele Abbott

  Blond guy was so busy flirting with every female who came within ten yards of the stall that he didn’t even notice I’d won.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  “What is it, darling?”

  “I’ve won.”

  He looked confused for a few seconds until I pointed at the hoop. Now, he looked even more confused. The expression on his face confirmed what I’d suspected: it shouldn’t have been possible for me to win.

  “I’ll have one of those giant bees, please.”

  “But—err—?”

  “I’ll have a bee please.” If only his name had been Bob, my day would have been complete.

  Blond guy kept glancing back at my winning hoop as he handed me the giant bee.

  “Thanks, bee seeing you.” What? Come on, you knew that was coming.

  The kids’ faces lit up as soon as they saw me hobbling towards them.

  “Thanks, Auntie Jill!” Mikey grabbed the giant bee.

  “Thanks!” Lizzie hugged the bear.

  Kathy looked at me with a puzzled expression. “How?” She mouthed the word.

  “Girl’s got skillz.”

  Chapter 20

  I wasn’t looking forward to going to the office. I hadn’t been back there since the incident with the helicopter. Something told me that I wouldn’t be Winky’s favourite person.

  “Morning, Mrs V.” I was surprised to see that she hadn’t put the line of socks back up.

  “Morning, Jill. How did it go with the landlord?”

  “I think we’re okay for now, but I wouldn’t trust Armitage as far as I could throw him. I don’t think he’s going to give up just yet.”

  “That’s what I thought too. I decided it would be better not to put up the sock line again until this has all blown over.”

  “I think that’s wise. What time is Jackie Langford coming in?”

  “She should be here any time now.”

  Jackie Langford had contacted me after the news of Jason Allan’s suicide and confession had broken in the news. I wasn’t sure yet what I was going to tell her. As far as the police were concerned, the Alan Dennis case was now cut and dried. I still had some reservations, not least the CCTV from the lift.

  Oh well, I couldn’t put it off any longer. Time to face the wrath of Winky.

  “I need milk,” Winky called from the window sill. The window was closed and he had the little flags in his paws.

  “Sure.” I grabbed the milk carton from the fridge and poured some into his dish.

  “Thanks.” He put down the flags, jumped down from the window, and began to lap up the milk.

  I didn’t trust him. This was obviously some ploy to catch me off guard. The moment I thought he’d forgiven me, he’d attack. “I see you’re using the flags again.”

  He ignored me until he’d lapped up the last of the milk, and then said, “Turns out you did me a favour. Bella thought the helicopter was a little too impersonal. She’s decided semaphore is more romantic after all.”

  “So, you and I are okay?” I said.

  “I guess so.”

  “Good.” I checked my watch. “Look, I have a client due in a few minutes. Do you think you could hold off on the semaphore until she’s gone?”

  “What’s it worth?”

  “Salmon.”

  “Red?”

  “Pink.”

  “Okay. Deal.”

  Jackie Langford arrived on time. “Thanks for seeing me at such short notice.”

  “No problem. Have a seat.”

  She looked around the office. “Where’s that handsome cat of yours?”

  Before I could answer, Winky strutted out from under the sofa.

  “You are a handsome boy.” She stroked him; Winky lapped up the attention. “I could take you home with me.”

  If only she meant it.

  I had to raise my voice to be heard over Winky’s purring. “How can I help?”

  Jackie Langford gave Winky one final tickle under the chin, and then turned her attention back to me.

  “The newspapers say that the young man who murdered Alan was his son. Is that true?”

  “Yes. Apparently, Alan had been paying his son’s rent for some time. I spoke to Jason Allan. He said he had no idea that Alan was his father, and hadn’t known who was making the payments.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “Yes. Either he was an incredible actor or he genuinely didn’t have a clue.”

  “Why did he murder Alan?”

  “No one knows the motive for the murder. The police think Jason may have committed suicide once he realised it was his father he had killed.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I do believe that Jason didn’t know Alan was his father or about the payments. The CCTV still bothers me though.”

  “Will you stay on the case?”

  “That’s up to you. I don’t want to keep running up charges on a case which the police consider to be closed unless you specifically want me to.”

  “I think there’s more to it. I’d like you to stick with it for a little longer at least.”

  “I’ll be happy to. Is there anything more you can tell me about Alan? Anything at all?”

  “He didn’t talk much about his life. I knew he’d been in at least one serious long term relationship, but that had broken down. Money problems, I believe.”

  “And he never mentioned having a son?”

  “No, never.”

  ***

  Sometimes the old ways are the best. My father hated computers, and preferred to scribble notes and diagrams onto an A4 pad. He said it helped him to see the big picture—to see how the different elements of a case came together. Well, if it was good enough for Dad, it was good enough for me. Let’s see, what exactly did I have so far?

  Alan Dennis was Jason Allan’s father. He left Jason’s mother before Jason was born.

  Jason never knew who his father was because his mother wouldn’t talk about it.

  Alan arranged for Jason to move to Tregar Court, and paid his rent.

  According to Jackie Langford, Alan Dennis and Jason’s mother had split up because of financial troubles. This coincided with what Jason’s sister, Sarah, had said.

  Alan Dennis had gone to great lengths to try to make amends for walking out on his son. A son that by all accounts he may not even have known he had until later in life. He’d paid Jason’s rent, and most likely had given him other money too. How else could Jason have afforded to live in Tregar Court? Alan had done all of this without ever letting Jason know who he was, and Jason had never suspected.

  I had all of this, but still no real answers. There were still several pieces of the jigsaw missing:

  - Why had Alan walked out on Jason’s mum? What exactly had those money problems been?

  - If Jason Allan had killed his father, why had he done it?

  - Why didn’t the CCTV show the murder?

  ***

  It was time to take another look at the CCTV.

  The same secretary who I’d met on my previous visit to Gravesend Security collected me from reception.

  “Here to see Tony again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I should warn you. He’s not in a very good mood. He’s been kind of depressed since his girlfriend dumped him. I think she must have sobered up and realised her mistake.”

  “Okay, thanks for the tip off.”

  She wasn’t exaggerating. Tony looked as though he’d aged ten years since my last visit. His long hair was greasy and tied back into a ponytail. He hadn’t shaved for at least a week, and he had a bad case of body odour.

  “Why are you here again?” he growled.

  “I just want another look at the tape.”

  “Waste of time.”

  “Still, if you don’t mind.”

  He sighed as though life itself was too much bother.

  This time around, I watched every frame over and over again. Tony had shown
me how to control the film, so I was able to play it back and forth and to slow it down. After thirty minutes, I still hadn’t seen anything new. Tony had barely spoken two words since I’d started to view the CCTV footage. He kept staring at his phone. At one point, I thought he was about to burst into tears. He put his phone down on the desk, grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. That’s when I spotted the screen’s wallpaper—it was a photograph of a woman—a woman I recognised.

  He must have noticed me looking at the photo, so he grabbed the phone. “I have to go to the loo,” he said, and slunk away.

  I focussed on the CCTV again. There had to be something I’d missed.

  Eureka! I paused the film and zoomed in as close as I could. Mr Dixon, who had been standing with his wife at the back of the lift, scratched his chin. As he did so, the expensive watch on his right wrist was visible. I hated those men’s watches which were so cluttered with dials that it was almost impossible to tell the time. Fortunately for me, this one also showed the day—Wednesday.

  I had to be quick. Tony would be back at any moment. I navigated my way back to the main menu which listed the tapes by day/date. The murder had taken place on a Thursday, so why had Dixon’s watch shown it to be Wednesday? His watch could have been wrong—it happened all the time. Or—

  “What are you doing?” Tony grabbed my hand.

  I turned to face him, and cast the ‘forget’ spell, followed by the ‘sleep’ spell. He slumped onto his seat, and I continued to work my way through the tapes for that same week. Monday—nothing unusual, Tuesday—nothing unusual, Wednesday—I hit pay dirt.

  I watched as the Dixons got into the lift on the fourth floor. The victim got in on the third floor. This time the lift doors did open on the second floor, and Alan Dennis took a step back. He’d been trying to avoid the knife which had been thrust towards him from someone standing just outside the lift. The lift doors closed. On the next floor, Darcy James boarded the lift. On the ground floor, Alan Dennis fell headfirst through the open doors.

  The tapes had obviously been switched, and I thought I knew why. I had to let Maxwell know, but first I had to pay another visit to Tregar Court.

  ***

  The friendly concierge nodded to me as I walked into reception.

  “Is Darcy James in?”

  “I think so.”

  “Is it okay if I go up?”

  “Sure, but the lift is being serviced at the moment. You’ll have to take the stairs.”

  Great. Like my feet weren’t aching enough after all the punishment they’d taken at the garden party.

  I bumped into the cleaner on the first floor.

  “Oh, hello.” She was dusting the skirting boards with very little enthusiasm. “Back again?”

  “Yes. Just tying up a few loose ends.”

  “I can’t believe that young man did it,” she said. “He seemed so timid.”

  “How has his girlfriend taken it?”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Darcy James, the woman on the this floor.”

  “I didn’t realise she was his girlfriend.”

  Now I was totally confused. “I thought you said you’d seen him sneaking into her room?”

  “No, not him. I meant that old letch on the fourth floor.”

  “Mr Dixon?”

  “Yeah. Right old pervert. Tried to grab me once, but I told him if he didn’t pack it in, I’d set my Alfie on him.”

  “Let me get this straight. You’ve seen Mr Dixon going into Darcy James’s apartment?”

  “Oh, yeah. Several times. I don’t think his wife knows. She’d probably kill him.”

  Now my head was spinning again. It was back to the A4 pad for me.

  ***

  I only just remembered to pick up a can of pink salmon on my way back to the office. Just as well because Winky was on me as soon as I walked through the door.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said, as he made short work of the salmon. “I think you should let those geezers next door move into this office.”

  “Geezers? Since when did you use words like geezer?”

  “I’m a talking cat, and you’re quibbling about my vocabulary?”

  “Point taken. But no. Why should I let them take my office?”

  “Look.” He waved his paw around. “This place is a dump.”

  “It is not a dump. It has character.”

  “It’s falling to pieces. Look, that guy Armitage seems pretty desperate. I’m sure he’ll make it worth your while to move.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “And I know just the place. It’s much more modern, and spacious, and is very cat friendly.”

  I began to smell a cat. “By any chance, would the offices you have in mind be anywhere near Bella?”

  “Funny you should say that—”

  Chapter 21

  Three hours later, and the Tregar case was still giving me a headache. I studied my scribblings on my trusty A4 pad. What exactly did I know now?

  I’d solved the mystery of the CCTV. The digital recordings had been switched—the one seen by the police had actually been from the day before the murder took place. The wallpaper photo I’d seen on Tony’s phone at Gravesend Security had been of Darcy James. On my first visit there, the secretary I’d spoken to had mentioned her surprise that Tony was dating such an attractive woman. Darcy James must have deliberately hooked up with him before the murder, so that she could persuade him to make the switch when the time came. She’d dumped him now, but he could hardly go to the police without implicating himself. The two recordings, the one from the day before the murder and the one on the day of the murder, were almost identical. The victim, the Dixons and Darcy James had been wearing the same clothes on both days, and they had stood in exactly the same position—almost as though it had been choreographed. The CCTV of the actual murder did not reveal the murderer’s identity, but I was beginning to think that Jason Allan may well have been the person who delivered the deadly blow. The question was ‘why’? I now knew he hadn’t acted alone. Darcy James was implicated because of her actions with regard to the CCTV. According to the concierge, she’d had a relationship with Jason Allan, and according to the cleaner, she’d also had a relationship with Mr Dixon. Quite the busy girl our Darcy! But what about the Dixons? What was their involvement?

  I should have taken the new information to Maxwell—particularly the info on the CCTV. If Sushi hadn’t been on the scene, I probably would have, but I didn’t want to give her the chance to shoot me down in flames. I needed more. I had to find the motive for the murder, and exactly who, apart from Jason Allan, had been involved.

  It was getting late, and my eyelids were heavy. Time to call it a night.

  ***

  The Tregar case was still buzzing around my head the next morning. I’d even had a nightmare in which I’d been trapped in a lift with the Dixons and Darcy James. My father once told me that sometimes you had to take a step back and allow your brain time to work things out for itself. At the time he’d said it, I hadn’t given it much credence, but as I’d got more into the job, I’d seen the wisdom of his words. The facts of the case were already implanted in my brain. Staring at the A4 pad wasn’t going to produce an answer. I needed to get away for a while. That would allow my brain to do its magic in the background. Where better to get away from it all than in Candlefield, and what better way to relax than to take Barry for a walk?

  Who was I kidding?

  “Barry! Leave those ducks alone! Barry! Leave that cat alone. Barry! Come back here! Barry! Put that down—you can’t eat that!”

  The dog was a nightmare, and I was exhausted. And now, he’d disappeared altogether. If he was in the swamp again, I was going to kill him. I hurried down the hill.

  “Hello!” A female voice called to me.

  I pulled up sharply, and turned to see a young witch, about the same age as me, standing with two almost identical dogs. One of them was Barry.

  “Is this your dog?”
she shouted.

  I nodded while trying to catch my breath.

  “He seems to have taken a shine to Bonny.”

  “I thought he’d gone into the swamp again.” I’d just about caught my breath.

  “I’m Tess.” She held out her hand.

  “Jill.” Her hand felt cold in mine.

  “These two seem to have hit it off. What’s his name?”

  “Barry.”

  “Barry and Bonny? Oh, dear.” She studied my face. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  “I live above Cuppy C. It’s a cake shop and tea room. Do you know it?”

  “Yes, but I’ve never been in. Wait, wasn’t your picture in The Candle? That’s it, I remember now. You found the Candlefield Cup.”

  I nodded. “Do you live around here?”

  “I have a small flat near to the main square. It’s just about big enough for me and Bonny. I spend most of my time in the human world though—in a place called Washbridge. Do you know it?”

  “I should. I’ve lived there all of my life.”

  “Really? Wow, that is a coincidence. What do you do there?”

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  “Of course, it said as much in The Candle article. How exciting.”

  “Not really. What about you?”

  “Oh, nothing nearly as glamorous. I’m a lawyer in Washbridge.”

  “That must be interesting.”

  “Most of it is routine. Maybe we could meet up in Washbridge some time? Get coffee or lunch?”

  “Sure. Why not?” We exchanged phone numbers.