Witch is How The Tables Turned

by Adele Abbott

  “That’s good advice. I’ll definitely do that.” She took one last look around. “I think I’m going to tell him that I’ll take it.”

  ***

  “Could we go via Washbridge House on the way home?” Kathy said, as we were walking back to the car.

  “I suppose so. Why?”

  “Pete’s working there today, and I want to tell him about the shop. Also, it’ll give you a chance to see what he’s been doing there. I told you he’s up for an award, didn’t I?”

  “You did.” She was so excited that I didn’t have the heart to say no, and besides, I was curious to see this magnificent garden. “Okay, we’ll drop by there.”

  As we drove to Washbridge House, there was only one topic of conversation: Kathy’s new shop. I envied her enthusiasm for her business. She was right about one thing, I had become a little jaded over the years. I desperately needed something to reignite my passion for my business, and the more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that a good office manager was the key. I had to spend less time sorting out paperclips, and more time on what really mattered: investigations.

  “Jill, I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention my new shop to your grandmother yet.”

  “I won’t breathe a word of it, but don’t be surprised if she finds out anyway. That woman has eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “If she opens a shop in West Chipping, she and I are going to fall out big time.”

  “I think you’ll be okay because when I spoke to her yesterday, she seemed much more concerned that her other two shops were underperforming. She was talking about running some kind of promotion in both Ever and Ever A Wool Moment.”

  “Talking of underperforming shops, have you walked past the internet café recently?”

  “Yeah, yesterday. There was no one in there.”

  “Same here. I’ve been past a few times and the only person I’ve ever seen in there is your neighbour. He must be getting worried.”

  “He definitely ought to be, but at the moment, the only thing he can think about is hot tubs.”

  Chapter 6

  Kathy had phoned ahead, so Peter was waiting for us in the courtyard at Washbridge House.

  “I’ve told him I’m going to take it.” Kathy was barely out of the car before she updated Peter on the new shop situation.

  “Good for you. What did you think of it, Jill?”

  “It seems ideal, but I’ve told Kathy she’ll have to be wary of the landlord.”

  “He’s Jill’s landlord too,” Kathy said. “How’s that for a coincidence?”

  “What don’t you like about him, Jill?” Peter said.

  “He’s been trying to get me out of my offices ever since he bought the properties from the previous landlord. That’s not to say Kathy shouldn’t take the shop, but you’ll need to get the lease checked over thoroughly.”

  “We will, won’t we, Kathy?”

  “Of course. I’ve already told her that. Anyway, are you going to show Jill this award-winning garden of yours?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, it hasn’t won anything yet. The judges might not like it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s already in the bag.”

  “We’ll see. Follow me.” Peter led the way around the back of the house. “What do you think, Jill?”

  “It’s amazing.” I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t anything as magnificent as this. The huge lawns were immaculate, but it was the flower beds that caught the eye. A thousand varieties of plants and shrubs formed a multi-coloured canvas that looked almost too good to be real. “Did you do all this?”

  “Not single-handedly.”

  “Don’t be modest, Pete.” Kathy put her arm through his. “You designed it all.”

  “That’s true, but I have a number of people working for me now. It was a team effort.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Jill. Even if he didn’t plant everything by hand, he oversaw it all. Isn’t it great?”

  “I’m no gardener, but—”

  “That’s true,” Kathy quipped.

  “As I was saying, I’m no gardener, but I don’t see how anyone could top this. When does the judging take place?”

  “Next week. I just have to make sure nothing disastrous happens between now and then.”

  “Such as what? Floral sabotage?” I grinned.

  “You joke, but that’s not far from the truth. Whoever wins this award is guaranteed to get a lot of business on the strength of it. Most of the other local landscape gardeners are decent types, but there are a few who I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw them. That’s why I’m having two of my guys stay here overnight, every night, until the day the judges come to view it.”

  ***

  Kathy decided she would get a lift with Peter, so I headed home alone. I stopped off at the Corner Shop because I was running low on—

  Can you guess?

  Wrong! I was nearly out of coffee.

  “Hello, Jill.” Little Jack Corner was behind the counter, standing on his box; he was beaming from ear to ear.

  “Someone looks pleased with himself.”

  “Haven’t you noticed anything?”

  I glanced around the shop, but I didn’t spot anything unusual. “Nothing that I can see.”

  “Behind me—on the shelf.”

  Little Jack always kept boxes of chocolates on that shelf, and as far as I could tell, they were the same ones he always had on display. “Sorry, I still can’t—” And then, I spotted them. In between the boxes of chocolates were two of the tiniest trophies I’d ever seen. “I see them now. Are they from the stacking competition?”

  “They are indeed.”

  “You won! Well done, Jack.”

  “I didn’t actually win. I came third in the creative stacking category, and second in the highest stack category.”

  “Still, you must be very proud.”

  “Indeed I am. Tommy Tucker came first in both categories for the third consecutive year. That man is unstoppable.”

  “Congratulations. It’s thoroughly deserved after all the work you put into it.”

  “Thank you, Jill. Custard creams is it?”

  ***

  Jack had sent me a message earlier, saying he’d get his own dinner because he had to work a little late. It seemed pointless cooking for one, so I planned to order in pizza.

  When I got out of the car, I heard the sound of voices and music coming from somewhere close by. I assumed it must be one of the neighbours having a barbecue.

  But I was wrong.

  The revelry was coming from next door, but it wasn’t a barbecue.

  “Jill!” Mr Ivers called from the hot tub. “Do come and join us.”

  Even if I’d wanted to (and there weren’t enough wild horses on the planet), there was no way I could have squeezed into that hot tub. It was full of men and women, all drinking beer or wine. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that appearances are superficial, and no one should judge a person purely on their looks, but this resembled a meeting of the Just Fell Out Of The Ugly Tree Club.

  “Thanks, but I’ll have to give it a miss. Are all these people friends of yours?” I was curious because I didn’t recall seeing Mr Ivers socialising with anyone before. He was the original Monty No Mates.

  “They’re people I worked with on the toll bridge, aren’t you guys?”

  There was a chorus of cheers; no doubt, fuelled by too much alcohol.

  “About the music—it’s a little—”

  “Brilliant, isn’t it, Jill? I put together the playlist myself.”

  “It’s great.”

  “What about Jack? Do you think he’d like to join us?”

  “He’s working late.”

  “That’s a shame. He seemed to enjoy himself yesterday. He even mentioned that he’d like to get one of these for your garden.”

  “Did he now?” Over my dead body. “Well, I’d better get inside. I have dinner to—err—”
/>
  This simply wouldn’t do. That hot tub had to go!

  Maybe the pizza would take my mind off the goings on next door. The man who answered the phone mumbled badly, so I was unable to make out what he said.

  “Is that One Minute Takeaway?”

  “One Minute Takeaway no longer exists. We bought them out.”

  “Do you still deliver pizza?”

  “We do. What would you like?”

  I placed my usual order, but decided to go large.

  What? It’s a well-known fact that pizza is good for stress, and after what I’d witnessed next door, I was understandably in a state of shock.

  I needed to shower, but that would have to wait because the food would no doubt be here any second.

  Or so I thought, but twenty-five minutes later, there was still no sign of my pizza. Colour me unimpressed with this new outfit. I’d have to give them a pizza my mind.

  What? Okay, so it wasn’t one of my best, but I blame the hunger.

  The man on the other end of the phone mumbled again, so I asked him to repeat himself, “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “Sloth Takeaway, how can I help you?”

  “Did I hear correctly? Did you just say Sloth?”

  “That’s right. Stuart Sloth, speaking. How can I help?”

  “My name is Jill Maxwell. I ordered a pizza almost thirty minutes ago, but there’s no sign of it yet.”

  “Don’t worry. If we fail to deliver within the hour, the pizza will be free.”

  “Within the hour? I could have starved to death by then.”

  “Would you like to cancel the order, Madam?”

  “What? No, I’ve waited this long, I may as well wait for it now.”

  “Very well. Have a good evening.”

  That prospect was looking less and less likely.

  My takeaway finally arrived five minutes before the one-hour deadline. The pizza itself was missing one vital ingredient: taste. All in all, Sloth Takeaway were a pale imitation of their predecessor. The next time I couldn’t be bothered—I mean, didn’t have time to make dinner, I would have to find a new supplier.

  Fortunately, Mr Ivers didn’t have any lights set up in his back garden, so just after nine o’clock, when it started to go dark, the hot tub party broke up. Until then, I’d had to put up with the incessant shouting and singing from his guests, as they became progressively more inebriated.

  Jack rolled in just before ten.

  “Evening, gorgeous, how are you?”

  “That hot tub has to go.”

  “Oh dear. Did Monty invite you over again?”

  “He did, but there wouldn’t have been room for me even if I’d wanted to get in there. He’d invited all the people he worked with from the toll bridge.”

  “I never saw more than two different people in the pay booth.”

  “There were at least a dozen of them next door. He must have invited everyone from the office too. They were a rowdy bunch.”

  “I’m sure they weren’t all that bad.”

  “How do you know? You weren’t here. What happens if he decides to get lights installed out there? They could be at it until all hours of the night.”

  “The novelty will wear off after a couple of weeks. I bet he hardly uses it after that.” Jack sniffed the air. “I assume you ordered in takeaway?”

  “And that’s the other thing, One Minute Takeaway is no more. They’ve sold up.”

  “What? I loved those guys. Who’s bought their shop?”

  “Sloth Takeaway.”

  “No one would call a business that.”

  “That’s the guy’s name, apparently: Stuart Sloth. And it’s Sloth by name, sloth by nature. It took almost an hour to get here, and when it arrived it was the blandest pizza I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Poor you. Sounds like you’ve had a rough night.”

  “It’s all your fault for working late.”

  “In that case, I probably should do something to cheer you up.”

  “Such as?”

  “I have a few ideas.” He took me by the hand and led me up the stairs.

  We’d almost made it to the bedroom when there was a knock at the door.

  “Ignore it.” I tugged at Jack’s hand.

  “It might be important.”

  “It won’t be. Just ignore it.”

  Whoever was out there, knocked again.

  “I’d better go and see who it is.” Jack started back downstairs; I trailed after him.

  “If it’s Mr Ivers, come around to apologise for all the noise, tell him I do not accept his apology.”

  But it wasn’t Mr Ivers.

  “Hello, Mr Hosey,” Jack said.

  “Good evening, Jack. Good evening, Jill.” He laughed. “I hadn’t realised until just now—your names: Jack and Jill. Like the nursery rhyme.”

  “Was there something you wanted, Mr Hosey?” I said.

  “I’m sorry to call at this late hour, but I saw the lights ablaze, so I knew you must still be up.”

  Any minute now, he’d get around to telling us the reason for his visit.

  “I have some exciting news that I’d like to share with you.”

  “Couldn’t it wait until the morning? We were just about to—”

  “It’ll only take a minute, and once I’ve told you what it is, you’ll understand the reason for my excitement.”

  “What’s your news, Mr Hosey?” Jack sounded every bit as exasperated as I felt.

  “The election takes place next week for the position of chairman of the neighbourhood watch committee. As you’ll be aware, I’ve held that position for the last two years, and although I do say so myself, I’ve done a remarkable job.” He hesitated, no doubt waiting for us to agree. Eventually, and only to move matters along, I nodded. Satisfied by that response, he continued, “And so, I intend to stand for re-election.”

  “That’s great.” I reached for the door. “Thank you for letting us know.”

  Anticipating my move, Mr Hosey stepped into the hallway. “I was hoping that you’d both campaign on my behalf.”

  Jack hesitated, and for a horrible moment, I thought he was about to agree, so I stepped in. “As much as we’d love to do that, we both have extremely demanding jobs. Jack didn’t get in tonight until a few minutes ago, and I’m busy on a case which will involve me working through the night. So, you see, it simply wouldn’t be possible.”

  “Not to worry. There are still ways in which you can support the cause.” He held up a large carrier bag. “You can wear one of these.” He handed both Jack and me a small badge, on which were printed the words: Re-elect Hosey.

  “Okay.” I grabbed them. Anything to get rid of him.

  “And there’s a poster for your window.”

  “I’m not sure about—” Jack started to say.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed that too.

  “And then there’s this.” He struggled to get the last item out of the bag. “This banner can be displayed from your roof.”

  “Great, thanks.” I took the banner, and then stepped forward, ushering Hosey out of the door. “Goodnight.”

  “If you change your mind about the campaigning, just—”

  I slammed the door closed.

  “Why on earth did you say we’d display those?” Jack said.

  “It was the only way to get him out of the door.”

  “Are you really going to put them up?”

  “Of course not. These are going straight in the bin first thing in the morning.” I took his hand and led him back towards the stairs. “Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”

  Chapter 7

  Once Jack was in a deep sleep, nothing short of an earthquake would wake him. It was almost one o’clock in the morning, and I’d been lying awake for the last ten minutes, listening to the noise coming from next door. I had assumed that Mr Ivers and his friends had called it a night, but it was obvious that the earlier break had been nothing more than a respite while
they got their second wind. There was no music this time around, and the shouting had been reduced to a series of dull grunts, but that didn’t make it any more acceptable.

  Enough was enough. I could play the understanding neighbour for only so long. Mr Ivers and I were about to have words.

  Jack didn’t stir even when I climbed out of bed and walked over to the window. Mr Ivers’ back garden was in darkness except for the light of the moon, so I had to strain my eyes to see the hot tub. I could just about make out a number of figures in the water. There were far fewer than earlier, and they seemed to be splashing around frantically. With a bit of luck, they’d all drown, and I’d be able to get some sleep.

  What? It was only a joke. Sheesh!

  Just then, the moonlight illuminated the face of one of the hot tub revellers.

  Oh bum! It wasn’t Mr Ivers, or his guests. It was zombies.

  “What’s going on?” Now Jack decides to wake up.

  “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

  “What’s that splashing?” He climbed out of bed and joined me at the window. “I can’t believe they’re still at it. I’m going next door to have a word.”

  “No! Don’t!”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t already around there, laying down the law.”

  “It isn’t Mr Ivers.”

  “They’re still his guests, so it’s his responsibility.”

  “They’re not his guests either.”

  “Who is it, then? Has someone hijacked his hot tub?”

  “Not so much someone, as something.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They’re zombies.”

  “There are no such things.” He laughed, but then he noticed the look on my face. “Are there?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Great. Just when I’d got used to the idea of sups and ghosts, now you tell me that zombies are real too.”

  “It’s okay. I need to call Z-Watch.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s like neighbourhood watch, but for zombies.”