by Adele Abbott
“If she starts asking you lots of questions, tell her to mind her own business.”
“How am I supposed to do that, Jill? She’s your sister; I barely know her. What kind of first impression will it be if I tell her to mind her own business every time she asks a question?”
“You have to be blunt with Kathy. She doesn’t take hints.”
“I’m sure she isn’t nearly as bad as you’re painting her.”
She was, but to my surprise and delight, Peter came to our rescue. Although he was driving, he must have known what Kathy had in store for us, so he carried the conversation all the way there. Kathy was getting angrier and angrier because she was desperate to get in some personal questions. As Jack and I walked across the car park, I could hear her giving Peter a real ear bashing.
Situated between the post office and the butcher, The Old Trout was pretty much what you’d expect of a small village pub. That kind of local pub can often be quite unwelcoming—full of locals who aren’t fond of outsiders. But The Old Trout wasn’t at all like that; there was a healthy mix of locals and tourists. The pub was aptly named; all of the walls were covered in fishing memorabilia and photographs, all of the same man. In most of them he was holding either a large fish or a trophy.
Moments later, that very man appeared behind the bar.
“Welcome to The Old Trout. My name’s Trevor Total.”
Trevor Total? T. Total? I loved it! Maybe I was going to enjoy this night more than I’d expected.
“Are you fine ladies and gentlemen here for the murder mystery evening?”
“We are,” Peter said.
“In that case, you need to go through to the function room in the back. Through that door.” He pointed. “Someone will be around shortly to take your drink and food orders. The murder mystery should get underway within the next thirty minutes or so.”
Just like in the main room, the function room walls were covered in all kinds of fishing memorabilia: rods, keep nets, floats, flies and dozens of framed photographs of our host.
“Did you notice what his name was?” I said, when we’d taken our seats.
“Trevor Total, wasn’t it?” Kathy said.
“Yeah. Don’t you get it? Trevor Total. T. Total.”
The three of them stared at me—nonplussed.
“Teetotal, as in, doesn’t drink. Mr T Total—never mind.” What was wrong with these people?
There was a set menu. I went for the chicken. Jack chose the steak, so did Peter. Kathy went for the lamb. The format of the evening was that the ‘players’ would introduce themselves before the meal. Then, after we’d eaten, the players would return to the small stage at the far end of the function room, and we’d all get an opportunity to try to discover who the murderer was.
“Well, Jack,” Kathy said. “I’m glad we’ve actually got to meet you properly at last.”
Oh dear, here we go. Peter might have held her off during the car journey, but there would be no stopping her now.
“It’s nice to meet you two, too. Jill has told me a lot about you both.”
“All bad, no doubt.”
“Most of it,” I chimed in.
“We’ve heard a lot about you too, Jack.” Kathy was on a roll. “In the early days, my sister thought you were evil incarnate. What was it you used to call him, Jill?”
I shot her a look. “I’m sure I didn’t call him anything.”
“It’s okay.” Jack laughed. “It can’t have been any worse than some of the things I used to call Jill. I’d never met such a royal pain in the bum.”
“Gee thanks.”
“That’s all behind us now,” he said. “We seem to have reached an understanding.”
“Is that what you call it?” Kathy gave him a knowing look.
Much to my relief, the MC, Trevor Total, took to the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, before you enjoy your meals, I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to tonight’s players who will be performing the last ever murder mystery to be held at The Old Trout. Please welcome them on stage. Firstly, we have Mr Brendan Breeze, the fishmonger here in Middle Tweaking.”
There was a polite round of applause as Brendan joined the MC on stage.
“Next, we have Mr Harry Payne, the local butcher. And our postmistress, Madge Hick.”
I laughed, and Kathy glared at me. “Didn’t you hear her name? Madge Hick? Get it? Magic?”
“You’re such a child sometimes,” Kathy said, under her breath.
“Next, we have Florence Long who runs the pharmacy. And finally, Justin Flower, the baker.”
Just in flour? This night was getting better and better.
All of the players looked thoroughly miserable—as though they didn’t want to be there.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll leave you now to enjoy your food. Afterwards, we’ll begin the murder mystery.”
“Madge Hick is the murderer,” I said.
“How can you know that?” Kathy asked. “They haven’t done anything yet.”
“I have a nose for this sort of thing. You forget that I’m a professional. I can pick out a murderer from a mile away.”
“But it’s not a real murder. You can’t apply the same rules here.”
“We’ll see. Just mark my words. Madge Hick is the murderer.”
They all looked doubtful—even Jack. They’d soon see I was right.
The food was delicious. The only thing spoiling it was that Kathy continued with her interrogation.
“Tell me, Jack. Have you met any of Jill’s birth family?”
“No, I haven’t. Jill doesn’t really talk about them. I did hear about her cousins the other day, though. They run a cake shop, apparently.”
“You mean Diamond and Emerald?” Kathy said.
“It’s Amber and Pearl.” I corrected her.
“Is it any wonder I’ve forgotten their names? I met them once, but that was ages ago.” She turned back to Jack. “Jill never talks about her birth family, and I know for a fact she has an aunt and a grandmother. I had hoped that me, Pete and the kids might get to visit them, but every time I mention it, Jill changes the subject.”
“I do not change the subject! Who do you think will win the Oscars this year?”
“There you go again! Wouldn’t you like to meet her birth family, Jack?”
“Definitely.”
This conversation was headed in a bad direction. If I didn’t put a stop to it quickly, it could spiral out of control. I did the only thing I could under the circumstances; I cast a powerful ‘forget’ spell on all three of them.
“What was I saying?” Kathy looked understandably puzzled.
“You were telling Jack about Lizzie’s talent competition,” I prompted.
“Was I? Oh yes. Lizzie entered a talent competition the other week and did really well. And she’s just entered another one. You should get Jill to bring you along.”
“Jack’s too busy.” I couldn’t subject him to that.
“Not necessarily,” Jack said. “If I can get away, I’d love to hear her sing.”
That’s what you think.
“She has a beautiful voice,” Kathy said.
Once everyone had finished their meals, and the tables had been cleared, the MC returned to the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for you to solve tonight’s murder mystery.”
With that, the lights in the function room went down. I could barely see my hand in front of me. Then, from somewhere, came a short burst of dramatic music. Moments later, when the lights came back on, there was someone lying on the stage. Behind her, stood the other players.
“Oh look, Jill.” Kathy grinned. “It looks like your murderer is actually the victim.”
She was right. Madge Hick was lying prone on the stage.
“So much for your brilliant powers of deduction.”
All three of them had a laugh at my expense. I glared at Jack—the traitor!
“Right, ladies
and gentlemen.” The MC took centre-stage again. “Now, each of you in turn will be allowed to ask questions of any of the players. You’re allowed to ask them anything related to their relationship with the victim, or about their movements over the last few hours. So, I’ll throw it open to the room. Who would like to ask the first question?”
I immediately put my hand up.
“Yes, young lady?” The MC pointed to me. “Which of our players would you like to ask a question?”
“Her!” I pointed to the woman lying on the floor.
“You can’t ask the victim a question.”
Kathy elbowed me in the side. “Jill, you’re showing us up.”
“I’m not convinced she’s dead. I think it’s a trick.”
The MC looked put out. “This is the victim, and she is most certainly dead. You’ll have to pick one of the other players.”
“Okay then. I’ll ask the fishmonger a question.”
Brendan Breeze took a step forward. “Ask away.”
“Was the victim a customer of yours?”
“Yes, Madge often came into my shop. She loved her fish.”
“What was her favourite fish?”
“She was particularly partial to red herring.”
Everybody laughed.
“When did you last see her?”
“Yesterday. She came into the shop, and bought some eels.”
I was about to ask another question when the MC interrupted me.
“Sorry young lady, but you can’t commandeer the whole evening.”
Over the next hour, everyone fired questions at the players. Supposedly their answers would give clues to the murderer. The problem was that most of the questions asked were useless. Questions like: ‘what’s your favourite colour?’ and ‘what’s your favourite TV program?’
What use was that? No self-respecting investigator would ask a question like that. Even Jack asked trivial questions; I was very disappointed in him.
When the MC called time on the questioning, we had to vote for who we thought the murderer was by writing the name on a slip of paper. I still thought Madge Hick was the murderer, but I wasn’t allowed to vote for her, so I went for Justin Flower. There was something about him that smacked of murderer. Kathy went for Brendan Breeze. So did Peter, but only because Kathy told him to. Jack went for Harry Payne which was a stupid choice. It obviously wasn’t the butcher.
“Ladies and gentlemen. We have collected together the votes, and I can tell you that only one person has correctly picked out the murderer.”
No surprises there. After all, I was the only professional in the room—no offence, Jack.
The players, other than Madge Hick, moved to the back of the stage.
“And the murderer is—” The MC paused for dramatic effect. “Harry Payne!”
Payne took a bow. Everyone clapped—except me.
“The only person who correctly picked the murderer tonight was Mr Jack Maxwell. Jack, where are you?”
“Stand up, Jack.” Kathy nudged him.
He stood up, and looked a little embarrassed.
“Well done, sir.” The MC led the applause. “You win a bottle of champagne.”
“Jill, why aren’t you clapping?” Kathy glared at me.
“Sorry.” I clapped rather half-heartedly.
“Well done, Jack,” Peter said.
“Yeah, well done, Jack.” Kathy nodded.
She and Peter both looked at me.
“Yeah, well done.” I suppose.
“Well,” Jack said, “I guess that only goes to show. You should leave these things to the professionals.” Then he winked at me.
The whole thing was obviously totally bogus.
Chapter 3
Looking back on it the next morning, the murder mystery evening hadn’t been quite the disaster I’d expected it to be, even though I’d had to endure a certain amount of mocking because I’d failed to pick out the murderer. Or at least, the person they claimed to be the murderer. I still had my doubts.
The most difficult part of the evening had been the questions about my birth family. The ‘forget’ spell had got me out of that jam, but it was an ongoing problem, and one I was going to have to address if Jack and I were ever to have any kind of meaningful, long-term relationship. I could always get the twins and Aunt Lucy to come over to Washbridge to meet him. And, Grandma spent almost as much time in the human world as I did. But, eventually he was bound to ask why we never went to visit them. Being in a long-term relationship with a human wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe, I should talk to the girls at Love Spell. They presumably encountered this same problem all the time with the witches they matched up with humans.
My head was spinning just thinking about it. That’s probably why I didn’t sleep very well; I was tossing and turning all night. In my dream, Jack was trying to follow me to Candlefield.
I was eating breakfast—only half awake, when Kathy phoned. She was no doubt going to rub it in about my failure in the murder mystery.
“Jill, have you seen the news?”
“Not yet. What’s happened?”
“Apparently, Madge Hick has been murdered in Middle Tweaking.”
“Very funny. You’re hilarious. Did you really ring me at this time of day just to have another laugh at my expense?”
“I’m not kidding. She really has been murdered.”
“How do you mean, murdered?”
“It’s not a difficult concept to grasp. She’s dead. Someone killed her.”
“For real?”
“Yes, for real. Check the local news. They found her body in the early hours of this morning. Anyway, I’ve got to see to the kids. I just thought I should let you know.”
The main story on the local TV news was indeed the murder in Middle Tweaking. Madge Hick, the postmistress, had been found dead in her flat above the post office in the early hours of the morning. I gave Jack a call to see what he made of it.
“Have you heard about the murder in Middle Tweaking?”
“Yes. We received word a short time ago.”
“Are you going to be working the case?”
“No, it’s outside our area. We won’t be involved.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit creepy that last night Madge Hick was the victim in a murder mystery, and now she’s been murdered for real?”
“A little, yes, but when you’ve been in the job as long as I have, nothing surprises you anymore.”
“I guess.”
“I had a really good time last night, Jill. I really like Kathy and Peter. Kathy’s a hoot!”
“She is when she’s not trying to interrogate you.”
“You’re too hard on her. She’s your sister. Of course she’s interested in what you do.”
“She’s not interested. She’s nosy.”
“And you’re not?”
“When am I ever nosy?”
“Obviously never.” He laughed. “Okay, well I’ve got to get to work even if you haven’t. I’ll catch up with you later.”
***
“Mrs V, you’ve had your hair done.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s very—blue.”
“But do you think it suits me?”
Blue hair had never suited anyone—not even the Smurfs. “Yes, it looks—err—great.”
“I thought it was time for a change.”
“Would that have anything to do with a certain gentleman in an office not too far from here?”
“It might have.”
“Have you heard from Armi, then?”
“He gave me a call late last night to say he was sorry he hadn’t been around. He’d thought it best to let the dust settle for a while.”
“Good for Armi. I’m glad to hear that he’s not letting that despicable brother of his bully him. I’m sure he’ll love your hair.” Always providing he’s colour blind.
When I opened the door to my office, I heard the sound of balls dropping to the floor.
> “Great! Thanks very much, Jill.” Winky glared at me.
“What have I done now?”
“I was juggling.”
“Of course you were. How remiss of me not to knock first—just in case you were juggling.”
“I’m practising for a world record attempt, and now I’m going to have to start all over again.”
“I’m very sorry about that, but this is my office.”
“Couldn’t you have just waited for another five minutes?”
“You should have put a notice on the door: ‘Cat juggling—do not disturb’.”
“Now you’re just being silly.”
“Anyway, how did your date with Katrina go?”
“Not great.”
“Didn’t you hit it off?”
“She slurps her milk.”
“That’s not good.”
“Tell me about it. And she burps.”
“Gross!”
“I know. I couldn’t possibly live with that. I mean, she’s very pretty, but I couldn’t focus with all the slurping and burping.”
“So you won’t be seeing her again, I take it?”
“I said I’d call her.”
“That’s rather a cowardly way out. Why didn’t you just tell her you don’t want to see her again?”
“Oh yeah. And what would I have said when she asked why? It’s because you slurp your milk, and burp?’ I’m not sure that would have gone down very well.”
“I guess you’re right. Where does that leave you, date-wise?”
“I’ve got a few other candidates on my Purrfect Match list, so I’m hoping to arrange another date soon. What about you? How did your foursome go?”
“I’d rather you didn’t refer to it as a foursome.”
“How many of you were there?”
“Four, but—”
“That’s a foursome in my book. So, was it a roaring success?”
“It wasn’t as bad as I expected.”
“That good, eh?”
“It would’ve been okay if Kathy hadn’t kept bringing up the subject of my birth family, and asking why she never got to visit them.”
