by Adele Abbott
“I should at least get a share for allowing you to use my office as your print room.”
“Much as I’d love to give you a share, all the money is tied up now.”
“How very convenient.”
“There are still plenty of cards in the shops, though, so if you change your mind, you can still pick one up later today.”
“Yeah, that’s never going to happen.”
I’d only been at my desk for a few minutes when I had an unexpected visitor.
“I have Mr Duyew out there,” Mrs V said. “He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says he needs to speak to you urgently.”
“You’d better send him through.”
“Sorry to barge in like this, Jill.” He looked more than a little stressed.
“That’s okay, Victor. Have a seat.”
“I won’t if you don’t mind. I can’t stay. I just came to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and fished out a wad of twenty-pound notes, which he placed onto my desk.
“What’s this?”
“It’s payment for the work you’ve done so far. It’s quite a bit more than we agreed.”
“I don’t understand. The case is still on-going, and I didn’t ask for an interim payment.”
“I need you to stop all work on the case. Straight away, please.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a seat, Victor?”
“No, thanks, I really can’t stay.”
“Won’t you at least tell me what’s prompted this sudden change of heart?”
“It’s—err—we just decided not to pursue it.” He was already backing towards the door. “Thanks again.” And with that, he was gone.
I counted the cash; there was double what I was owed.
“I think you’ve just reached an all-time low.” Winky grinned.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re obviously so bad at you job that your clients have now taken to paying you extra not to work on their case.” He ducked just in time to avoid the hole punch. “Oi, that could have hit me.”
***
I didn’t have time to dwell on Victor Duyew’s sudden and unexplained change of heart because I needed to focus on the Bell case, which was still very much alive. Two people had now pointed the finger at Adam Bell, on the basis that he was desperate to get his hands on his parents’ cash. And yet, I still wasn’t convinced that he was behind it. Maybe he was a brilliant actor, but when he’d visited my offices, he’d seemed genuinely concerned about his parents.
One of the other things that still bothered me about this case was the Bells’ journey home. There were several things which didn’t make any sense. First, why had they decided to travel overnight on the Friday when they’d told the Nightingales and Jameses that they would be staying until the Sunday? What had caused that sudden change of heart, and could whatever it was be connected to their disappearance?
How come there was no trace of them on CCTV on their journey home? If they’d travelled their normal route, along the main roads, they would inevitably have been picked up on camera at least once. And finally, what had happened when they arrived back at the house? Did they really walk in on a burglary? What were the chances of that? Pretty remote, I would have thought.
Something the Nightingales had said was playing on my mind. They’d mentioned that the fuel warning light had been illuminated on the journey back from Driffield. That being the case, the Bells would have had to call at a petrol station not long after they left the caravan park on the Friday night. The police had checked roadside cameras for sightings of the Bells, but had they checked the petrol stations? I had no way of knowing, so I intended to pay them a visit. I figured the Bells would have had to call in at a petrol station within twenty miles of the caravan park, and a quick check on the map narrowed that down to just seven. There were others, but to have visited any of those would have meant the Bells having to head in entirely the wrong direction.
So, with that in mind, I took another drive to Filey.
It was a sunny day, and the interior of the car was like a sauna because it didn’t have aircon. If I hadn’t been cheated out of that Jag, it would have been a much more enjoyable excursion.
An hour later, and of the petrol stations I’d visited so far, two had no CCTV, and the other three didn’t retain the recordings for long enough. That left just one petrol station on my list. I wasn’t feeling very optimistic, particularly when I pulled up on the forecourt and couldn’t see any trace of cameras. Still, I needed a cool drink anyway, so I might as well ask about the Bells, just in case.
“No petrol?” The middle-aged man behind the counter had discarded his shirt, which should have been illegal with a beer belly like his.
“No, thanks.” I put the ice-cold can of orange on the counter. “Just this, and a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, please.”
He had to stand up in order to take my money because the cash register wouldn’t open until he moved his belly out of the way. “Ten pence change.”
“Thanks. Do you have CCTV?”
“Nah, we used to have it, but someone nicked the cameras. Why?”
I took a drink of the orange and then held the can to my forehead. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just trying to trace someone who may or may not have called here in a blue Volvo on the fifth of June last year.”
“The fifth of June? That’s my wedding anniversary.”
“That’s nice. Congrats.”
“A blue Volvo, you said?”
“That’s right. Why? You can’t possibly remember that far back, can you?”
“I wouldn’t normally, but the Mrs and I had booked to go on holiday the following day, by way of celebration. I was just about to lock up for the night when a woman pulled up in a blue Volvo, towing a caravan. She didn’t have the first clue how to get the petrol cap off, so she came and asked me to help. By the time she’d filled up and left, I was thirty minutes late. Nora, that’s the missus, wasn’t impressed because we had to be at the airport at four in the morning, and we almost didn’t make it.”
“And you’re sure it was a woman?”
“Positive. If it had been a bloke, I wouldn’t have been so accommodating.”
“Was there anyone else in the car?”
“No, it was just her.”
“What time would this have been?”
“It was a couple of minutes before eleven. That’s when I normally close.”
“Do you happen to remember what she looked like?”
“Not really. She was a redhead, that’s all I remember.”
I took out my phone, did a quick Google search, and then showed him a couple of photographs. “Is that her by any chance?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
***
I’d just arrived back in Washbridge when my phone rang.
“Colonel?”
“Jill, I wanted to give you an update. I spoke to our people as soon as I got back, and much as I’d expected, several volunteers came forward.”
“Do they understand the risks?”
“They do, but like me, they’re disgusted by what’s happening, and they want to do whatever they can to help. In fact, I had more volunteers than I had tracking devices, so I was forced to disappoint a few of them.”
“That has really restored my faith in human nature.”
“I think you’ll find that should be ghost nature.” He laughed.
“When will they be able to start?”
“They already have. A few of them were out on the streets last night, but there were no reported incidents. They all returned safe and sound.”
“That’s good, I guess, but it doesn’t help us to catch the traffickers.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky tonight. I’ll keep you posted, Jill.”
“Thanks, Colonel, and please be sure to pass on my thanks to all the volunteers.”
***
S
ince breakfast (a thrilling bowl of cornflakes) I’d only had a can of pop and a packet of crisps. I needed something substantial, so I magicked myself over to Cuppy C for a muffin.
What? I challenge you to name anything more substantial and nutritious than a blueberry muffin. Everyone knows that fruit is good for you, right? Add to that all the muffinness, and you can’t go wrong.
What the—? I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The twins had been unable to agree on the colour for the uniforms, and my understanding was that they’d compromised by ordering a number of each colour. Clearly, I’d given the twins way too much credit because it turned out that the left half of the uniform was pink, and the right half was turquoise. They looked ridiculous. I couldn’t believe the twins had gone ahead and ordered such monstrous things.
Wait, scrub that. Of course I could believe it.
The two ladies in question were seated at the window table, deep in conversation.
As I approached the table, Pearl spotted me, and said something to Amber that I clearly wasn’t supposed to hear.
“Shush, she’s here!”
“Hello, you two.”
It was a toss-up which of them looked the more guilty.
“Hi, Jill.” Amber forced a smile.
“Hey, Jill,” Pearl said. “Do you like the new uniforms?”
Telling the twins that I thought they were awful wouldn’t do any good now, so despite my true feelings, I felt I should be supportive.
“They suck bigtime.”
What? I know what I said about being supportive, but I couldn’t help myself.
“They do not!” Amber protested. “Everyone says how unusual they are.”
Unusual, clearly being a euphemism for ugly. “Pink and turquoise don’t go together.”
“Like we’re going to take fashion advice from you.” Pearl scoffed.
“It doesn’t matter what I think, anyway. As long as you two are happy for your staff to look like jesters, that’s all that matters.”
“We like them, don’t we, Pearl?”
“Yes, we do. They look great.”
“Okay. What were you two talking about when I came over just now?”
“Nothing.” Pearl shrugged.
“Yes, you were. I heard you tell Amber to shush.”
Pearl was squirming in her seat. “It was nothing—just private business talk.”
“Yeah,” Amber said. “We were just discussing the accounts. It’s nothing to concern you.”
I’d seen some poor liars in my time, but these two were the worst.
Chapter 19
Back in Washbridge, I was still trying to make sense of what I’d learned from speaking with the petrol station owner. Even when he’d told me that he remembered the Volvo and caravan, I couldn’t be sure it was the Bells’ car, but then he’d mentioned that the driver was a woman—a redhead. When I’d shown him a photo of the caravan park owners, he hadn’t hesitated in identifying the driver as being Mary Chase.
Although this was undoubtedly a breakthrough, it raised more questions than it answered. Why had Mary Chase driven the Bells’ car and caravan back to their house? How had she managed to avoid being spotted on camera on that journey? Where was Norman Chase when his wife was driving the Bells’ car? And, most importantly, what had happened to the Bells?
Frustrating as it was, those questions would have to wait because I was due to attend the WOW function being hosted by Belinda Cartwheel. I would have gladly given it a miss, but Grandma was already giving me grief, and she’d no doubt continue to do so until I found out exactly what Belinda was up to.
“Jill, I’m so pleased you could make it.” Belinda greeted me at the door. “We haven’t seen you for a while. I was beginning to think you were avoiding us.”
“Not at all. I’ve just been very busy. I’m sure you know how it is.”
“Of course. Is your grandmother coming?”
“I’m afraid not. She’s very busy too. Her new shop opens on Friday, so that’s occupying a lot of her time, as you can imagine.”
“Another shop? My oh my. What’s this one going to be?”
“A beauty salon.”
“Really?” Belinda scoffed. “I wouldn’t have thought that was her forte. Still, I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”
“She usually does.”
“Do go through and mingle. I’ll catch up with you later.”
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something about that woman that gave me the creeps.
All the usual suspects were present, and the majority of them seemed to be genuinely pleased to see me. I’d been worried that there might be some carryover from when Grandma had taken it upon herself to impersonate me, but no one mentioned it. One big plus was that there wasn’t a single beetle to be seen. In fact, there didn’t appear to be any theme to this particular meeting. It was just an excuse for everyone to drink, eat and chat. Although I wasn’t a big fan of WOW, I could see how it could be helpful, particularly to witches new to the human world. Having other witches to talk to would be a godsend to those who were feeling isolated and missing the paranormal world.
After an hour or so, I went in search of the loo. As I walked past the kitchen, I noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Inside, Belinda appeared to be refreshing the punch bowl, which was almost empty. I was just about to move on when I saw her take a small bottle from her pocket and pour the contents into the punch. What was I to make of that? Maybe it was just a little something to put the ‘punch’ in punch. Whatever it was would have to wait because I was practically plaiting my legs.
I got back to the living room just in time to see everyone raising their glasses to make a toast.
“To WOW!” Belinda said.
Her words were chorused around the room, and then everyone downed their drinks.
“Jill?” Belinda had spotted me. “You missed out on the toast.”
“Sorry, I was in the loo.”
She took a glass, filled it with punch and handed it to me. “To WOW!”
I glanced at the window and pointed. “What’s he doing out there?”
When Belinda turned around to find out what I was looking at, I poured the punch into the flowerpot next to me.
“What did you see?” She turned back to me, puzzled.
“Didn’t you see him? It was a man on a unicycle. He’s gone now.”
It might have been my imagination, but after the toast, the atmosphere in the room seemed to change. Conversations were few and far between, with most people preferring to stand by themselves. I tried to engage a few people in small talk, but all I could get out of them were monosyllabic responses.
Belinda clinked a spoon against her glass. “Everyone, can I have your attention? It’s been lovely to see you all today. Before you leave, however, there’s one important matter we need to address.” She picked up a clipboard from the table. “I know that most of you feel it’s time for a change at the top of WOW. This is a petition to remove Mirabel Millbright as chairman. If all of you sign this today, it will make it practically impossible for her to continue. Please line up in single file and add your signature on your way out.”
To say I was gobsmacked would have been an understatement. It was bad enough that she should use a get-together like this for political purposes, but to do it while I was present was the height of audacity. Did she really expect everyone to sign her petition without question? Did she think I’d stand by and allow that to happen?
Everyone apart from me had already formed a line. There could be only one possible explanation for their complicity: the punch had been spiked. How should I play this? I made a snap decision and joined the back of the queue. As I waited in line, I thought it significant that no one asked any questions or passed any comment when it was their time to sign. Instead, they simply took the pen and scribbled their signature. Ten minutes later, and I was the only one still to sign. Everyone else had already left, leaving only Belinda and me i
n the house.
“There you are, Jill.” She handed me the petition and a pen. “Even if the number of signatures isn’t enough to persuade your grandmother to resign, seeing your name on there should do the trick.”
“You could be right.” I looked her straight in the eyes. “There’s just one slight problem with your plan.” I took the sheets of paper off the clipboard and ripped them into a thousand tiny pieces. “Whoops!”
Belinda dropped to her knees and tried to gather together the shredded pieces of paper. “What have you done?”
“I’m onto you, Belinda. I saw you spike the punch, and I intend to let all the members of WOW know what you’ve done.”
“You’ll pay for this.” Her face was like thunder, but much more curiously, her voice had changed.
Gone were the sickly-sweet tones of Belinda Cartwheel. In their place was a much gruffer voice—it was a voice I would have recognised anywhere.
“Ma Chivers!”
Discarding the small pieces of paper, she got to her feet, and slowly transformed in front of my eyes. “Get out of here!”
“That will be my pleasure. I’ll let the other members know that you’ve decided to resign from WOW, shall I?”
“Get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.”
“Your empty threats don’t scare me, Ma. You’re a spent force.”
“The Elite Competition says otherwise.”
“That was a hollow victory, and everyone knows it. What’s it like to be all alone in the world?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Where’s Alicia? Oh yes, she saw you for what you are and left. And what about Cyril? I haven’t seen him for a while. It’s just you now, is it?”
“Get out of here!”
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”
Why hadn’t I twigged before? Why hadn’t Grandma? Ma Chivers was extremely powerful, and if anything, she was growing even more so. It was only her fit of rage that had allowed me to see through her disguise.
