Witch Is Why The Moon Disappeared (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 17)

by Adele Abbott

  “And that starts on the next full moon?”

  “Could be. From what I hear, there’s likely to be a lot of discontented werewolves in Candlefield in a few days’ time.”

  “What do you know about the moon?”

  “It’s that big white thing which comes out at night.”

  “You know what I mean. What have you done to the moon in Candlefield?”

  “Me? Nothing. I rarely go to Candlefield. The only reason I even know about it is because some of my friends, who still live there, have told me.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “And you’ve got a nerve, coming in here, and throwing around unfounded accusations. What proof do you have that I had anything to do with it?”

  I didn’t answer because he was right—I had nothing to go on.

  “Just as I thought.” He stood up. “Wait, I remember where I’ve heard your name. You’re that superstar witch, aren’t you?” He laughed. “You don’t look very special to me. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m a busy man.”

  I was relieved to get out of the pub—the atmosphere in there had been more than a little intimidating. Although Breakskull had given me nothing to go on, there was something about him that I didn’t trust. I gave Daze a call, and brought her up to date on my meeting with Breakskull—not that there was much to tell.

  ***

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” the eager young woman in the charity shop came buzzing around me. “My name’s Charity Jackson.”

  “That’s quite appropriate.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Your name.”

  “Jackson?”

  “No. Charity. Your name is Charity and you work in—never mind. I’m looking for some old lady clothes.”

  “I wouldn’t say you were old.”

  “No, I—err—do you have anything in blue?”

  “There’s a nice blue woollen two-piece over there, but it’s a bit old for you.”

  I took it off the rail, and held it in front of me. “This looks fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Charity looked horrified.

  “Yes. Can I try it on?”

  “Over there.”

  The changing room was no more than a curtain behind which to change. When I stepped out to check myself in the mirror, Charity looked even more dismayed.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather try one of these?” She pointed to a rail of dresses more suited to someone of my age group.

  “No.” I checked my reflection in the wall mirror. “I think this is just the ticket. I’ll take it. Do you have any nice, flat shoes to go with it?”

  Chapter 21

  It was some time since I’d last cast the ‘ageing’ spell. It wasn’t one of my favourites—who wants to see an older version of themselves? Not me. Still, it had to be done, so I changed into my newly acquired two-piece, and then cast the spell. It was time to pay another visit to the colonel’s old house.

  Blathers answered the door.

  “Good day, madam. How can I help you?”

  The transformation in him was remarkable. He’d been surly and quite short with me when I’d visited before, but today he was all smiles.

  “Good day. I’m Portia Parkspirit. I believe you’re expecting me?”

  “Of course. Do come in.” He stepped aside. “Could I get you a drink? Tea, coffee, something a little stronger, maybe?”

  “That’s very kind.”

  “Not at all. It isn’t every day such an attractive lady graces these four walls.”

  Unbelievable. The old letch was hitting on me.

  “A cup of tea would be most acceptable. One and two-thirds teaspoons of sugar, please.”

  “My pleasure. I hope you will excuse me for staring at you, Miss Parkspirit, but you remind me of someone. Do you by any chance have a daughter?”

  “No. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really like to get started. I understand that the ‘problem’ is confined to the east wing. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to direct me there.”

  “I can do better than that, Portia. Do you mind if I call you Portia? I’ll take you up there.”

  “No need. Please just point me in the right direction, and bring the tea up to me. Oh, and I prefer Miss Parkspirit.”

  “Of course. Take the stairs, and then left along the landing. Follow the corridor and you’ll reach the east wing.”

  “Thank you.”

  What was it about me and the ‘ageing’ spell? When I’d used it to recover my mother’s ring from the nursing home, I’d been hit on by one of the other residents: Charlie—Chas to his friends. And now, Blathers was coming on to me.

  Unsurprisingly, the east wing was colder than the rest of the house.

  “There you go.” Blathers passed me the cup of tea. “One and two-thirds teaspoons of sugar, as requested.”

  “Thank you.”

  He stood his ground.

  “You can leave me now.”

  “Maybe it would be better if I stayed. It could be dangerous.”

  “Poppycock. I’ve been performing exorcisms since you were a slip of a boy. I simply can’t work with anyone else present, so if you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Of course. Any problems, just give me a shout.”

  “Thank you.”

  I waited until I was sure he’d gone downstairs. “Colonel? Priscilla? Are you there?”

  The colonel appeared. “Hello? Do I know you?”

  “It’s me, Jill.”

  “Jill? Good grief. I never would have recognised you.”

  Priscilla appeared at his side. “I think Blathers fancies you, Jill.” She giggled.

  “Don’t. He’d better keep his hands to himself, or he’ll be in for a nasty shock.”

  “What’s the ageing and the clothes all about?” The colonel asked.

  “Meet Portia Parkspirit, exorcist extraordinaire.”

  “Jill, you’re a genius.”

  “Thank you. Now, we need to pretend to perform the exorcism, and we have to make it seem realistic, so I’m going to need you two to make lots of howling noises.”

  “Sorry?” The colonel looked puzzled.

  “I’m supposed to be driving you out of here. You need to make it sound as though you’re in pain and torment. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Of course we can.” Priscilla began to howl like a banshee.

  The colonel’s efforts were a little less convincing.

  “Okay. That should be enough,” I said, once I’d finished my tea. “I’ll go and report the good news to Blathers. Hopefully, they’ll leave you in peace from now on.”

  “Thanks again, Jill,” the colonel said.

  “Yes, thanks, Portia.” Priscilla giggled again.

  “All done.” I passed the empty tea cup to Blathers.

  “Ghosts gone already?”

  “Every last one. Would you let Mr Murray know?”

  “Of course. Tell me, Miss Parkspirit, do you like to go dancing?”

  Regrettably, Portia was forced to give Blathers a rain check.

  ***

  “He isn’t boring,” I insisted.

  “He’s an accountant. He must be boring.”

  Jack and I were waiting in the doorway of ‘A Lot At Stake’. We’d arrived there a few minutes early.

  “Not all accountants are boring. You’ll like Luther.”

  “The way you talk about him, anyone would think you used to have the hots for him.”

  “Me? Of course I didn’t. Our relationship has always been strictly professional.” In spite of all my efforts to get his attention, in the early days.

  “Jill!” Luther appeared. He had an attractive brunette on his arm. “Are we late? Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “It’s okay. We were early.”

  “This is Maria.”

  Luther’s new girlfriend seemed shy, or nervous. Possibly both. She barely made eye contact, and managed only a weak smile.r />
  “I’m Jack.”

  He and Luther shook hands, and then we all made our way inside. Luther had booked a quiet corner table, and it was obvious from the greeting we received that he was a regular customer.

  “Menu, madam?” An attentive waiter offered.

  “That’s okay. I’m going to have a sirloin steak. A very big one.”

  “I’m sorry, madam. We don’t have—”

  “Okay. I’ll have rump.”

  “I was going to say we don’t have steak.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a vegetarian restaurant,” Luther said. “Sorry, I should have checked with you that that was okay.”

  “But the name? A Lot At Stake? Isn’t that a play on words?”

  “No, it isn’t, sorry.” The waiter handed me the menu. “The owner put his last penny into the restaurant. That’s why he chose the name.”

  “It’s very misleading. You must get a lot of people who think it’s a steak restaurant?”

  “Actually, no. You’re the first.”

  Huh? Well that was just dandy. I’d been looking forward to a big juicy steak. Now, I was going to have to make do with beans and lettuce. It wasn’t that I had anything against vegetarians—I just didn’t want to be one.

  To be fair, the food was excellent, even if it wasn’t what I’d been hoping for. Jack and Luther seemed to hit it off just fine. Once Jack realised that Luther liked ten-pin bowling, he forgot all his preconceived ideas about boring accountants.

  Maria, though, seemed uncomfortable, and somewhat distracted. She barely spoke throughout the main course.

  “Jill,” she leaned over, and said in a hushed voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “Would you come to the powder room with me?”

  Even though I’d never heard anyone outside of the movies call the loo the powder room, I agreed, and followed her. The guys were still busy talking about spares, strikes and other fascinating bowling stuff.

  “Sorry about this,” she said, once she’d established we were alone.

  “Are you okay? You’ve been very quiet.”

  “Not really. Look, you’re a witch, and you know I’m a—err—”

  “Vampire? Of course. There’s no reason to feel awkward around humans.”

  “I don’t. That’s not it.”

  “What’s wrong, then?”

  “I was so nervous about tonight that I forgot to bring my synthetic blood with me from Candlefield. I’m ravenous, and I’m worried that I’m going to do something stupid.”

  “You don’t mean—?”

  “Yes. I can’t stop looking at their necks. I’m terrified I might lose control and bite someone.”

  “You mustn’t do that! Isn’t there somewhere around here that you can get synthetic blood?”

  “That’s the problem. I’ve only been to the human world a few times before, and I’ve always brought my own supply with me. Do you know of anywhere I could get some?”

  “I don’t, but I know a woman who does.” I took out my phone. “You go back to the table, and I’ll see what I can organise.”

  “Thanks, Jill.”

  I made the call. “Daze? I need a big favour.”

  Ten minutes later, a waitress appeared at our table. It was Daze. That woman was a freaking force of nature.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your meal,” she said. “There’s a phone call for Maria at the main desk.”

  Maria looked a little confused, but got the message when I gave her shin a gentle tap with my foot. Five minutes later, she reappeared, looking like a new woman.

  For the remainder of the evening, she was bright, bubbly and never stopped talking.

  While Jack and Maria were deep in conversation, Luther pulled his chair a little closer to mine.

  “Jill, I don’t like to talk ‘shop’, but I thought I should let you know that I’ve looked at that P&L report you gave me.”

  “Does it look legit?”

  “Not really. From what I can see the nett profit should be much higher.”

  “Really?”

  “It would be if there wasn’t a one-off ‘miscellaneous’ payment to something called WTC Enterprises.”

  “WTC? What’s that?”

  “No idea. I did some research but could find nothing on them. It makes no sense to have such a large expense listed as ‘miscellaneous’. It’s almost as though someone was deliberately trying to reduce the nett profits. Does that make any sense?”

  “It’s beginning to.”

  Winky was so dead.

  When we got back home, Jack and I had a nightcap before bed.

  “I like Luther.” Jack took a sip of his brandy. “He’s okay.”

  “I told you he wasn’t boring.”

  “We’re going to go bowling sometime.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “Maria is a bit of a strange one, though.”

  “I thought she was nice.”

  “She is, but talk about Jekyll and Hyde. She barely spoke for the first hour, and then she wouldn’t shut up. I don’t know who was on the phone for her, but it had a dramatic effect.”

  “Apparently, her mother has been poorly. Maria had been waiting for a call from the hospital. It seems her mother is doing much better.”

  “That makes sense. Why didn’t they call her mobile?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe they couldn’t get through.”

  Daze had come through big time for me. If Maria had started feeding off our fellow diners, I’m not sure Luther would have been too keen on another date.

  ***

  After we’d finished our drinks, Jack went straight up to bed. I told him that there was something on TV I wanted to watch, and that I’d be up later. The truth was, my mind was buzzing with thoughts of the next day: it was the Levels Competition.

  It seemed to me that the hype had been much greater this year than when I’d last competed, two years earlier. Unfortunately, most of the publicity had focused on me rather than on the competition itself. A lot of the stories had recycled the news that I’d turned down the opportunity to become the first level seven witch. The papers seemed to have decided that my victory would be a formality. I didn’t share their optimism.

  Grandma had been pestering me for weeks to put in the maximum amount of practice, and I had reassured her that I was doing just that. The truth was, I had done very little practice. That was partly because I had been too busy, but also because my views on the competition had changed dramatically since I last competed. I’d taken part in the first competition shortly after I’d discovered I was a witch. At that time, I was still on level one, and keen to move up the levels. It was very different now. Officially, I was a level four witch, but there were those who insisted I was the most powerful witch in the supernatural world. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I was now confident in my own abilities, and no longer felt the need to prove myself on the competition field. That didn’t mean that I didn’t want to win, or that I wouldn’t give it my best shot. I just wasn’t as obsessed with the competition as Grandma obviously was.

  She wouldn’t have been very impressed if she’d found out I’d been out the night before.

  Chapter 22

  “Why do you insist on reading that rag?” I said.

  The next morning, while I was getting showered, Jack had nipped out to the newsagent to buy a copy of The Bugle.

  “You ask me that every week. I get it for the local bowling league scores.”

  “Do you have any idea how sad that makes you sound?”

  “At least I have interests. What do you ever do?”

  “I have lots of interests.”

  “Name two. No, scratch that. Name one.”

  “Keeping fit.”

  He laughed. “Since when?”

  “I’ve signed on at I-Sweat?” I lied.

  “Name another.”

  “Knitting.”

  He laughed again, louder this time. “Your capacity for self-delusion is i
ncredible. I have never once seen you knit.”

  “I do it when you aren’t here.”

  “Of course you do. Anyway, look at this.” He put the paper on the kitchen table. The front-page headline read: Illusionist disappears!

  Apparently, The Stupendous Sylvester had gone missing from his hotel room. The Washbridge police were baffled—that was a first, surely.

  “It’s probably a publicity stunt,” I said.

  “I don’t think he needs to generate publicity. His shows are a sell-out wherever he goes. It’s more likely to be a kidnapping.”

  ***

  A record crowd was expected for this year’s Levels Competition. Aunt Lucy and the twins were seated in the bleachers. Alan and William hadn’t been able to make it because they were working, and much to Aunt Lucy’s annoyance, Lester was absent too. He was still undergoing grim reaper training. Despite my protests, Grandma had insisted that she accompany me onto the playing field, where I was once again required to dress in traditional witch’s robes.

  As a level four witch, I wouldn’t join the competition until the fourth round. It felt strange to watch the level one witches competing. The spells that they were required to perform seemed quite tame to me now, and yet, only two years earlier, I would have found them very challenging.

  When the contestants for the third round stepped forward, I spotted a familiar face. Alicia Dawes, my nemesis, was now a level three witch. It took her no time at all to secure her place in the grand final, and despite my dislike of the woman, I had to admit she was an accomplished witch who wouldn’t have been out of place on level six. When she passed by me, on her way back to the changing rooms, she said in a hushed voice, “I’ll see you in the final, Gooder. If you make it that far.”

  Now it was my turn. The level four witches were asked to step forward, and the official made his announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, we now come to the competition for level four witches. Competing today are: Sylvia Mothday, Coral Peasbody, Tina Tinstall and Jill Gooder.”

  The crowd clapped and cheered. The twins and Aunt Lucy were on their feet, shouting and waving their hands around. I just hoped I wouldn’t let them down. My opponents were all very friendly, and made it quite clear that they thought they were only there to make up the numbers. Even though they expected me to win, I knew none of them would give an inch. If I was to make my way through to the grand final, I would have to bring my ‘A’ game.