Witch Is Why Promises Were Broken

by Adele Abbott

  “What happened after that?”

  “Things were okay for the first part of the journey. The man was knocking back the champagne, but the woman didn’t seem to be interested. Then, just about halfway through the journey, they started arguing.”

  “Could you hear what it was about?”

  “Not really, but it soon descended into a full-scale shouting match. She started crying, and then she stormed out of the carriage towards the lavatory. He followed her. I never saw them again. I assumed they must be carrying on the argument in the corridor, or that they’d gone through to the buffet car. The next thing I knew was when someone said that a woman’s body had been found.” Stanley took a long suck on his unlit pipe.

  “It must have been upsetting.”

  “Terribly. I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to ride The Flyer again, but Momsy said I was just being silly. She was the one who made me get back on the horse.”

  Stanley’s account of that day had done nothing to rule out the possibility that Gary Shore might have murdered his wife, and then committed suicide, because there had obviously been some kind of falling out just prior to the incident.

  “Thank you very much for taking the time to speak to me, Stanley. Is there any chance you could let me have a copy of the photo you took?”

  “Certainly. It’s been a pleasure to talk to you. I don’t often get the chance to spend time with a pretty, young woman.” He glanced at the door. “You won’t tell Momsy I said that, will you?”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  ***

  Barbara Hawthorne lived in a pretty bungalow in the Washtide Retirement Village.

  “Do come in, Ms Gooder. I hope you’ll excuse the mess.”

  There was no mess; it looked like a show house.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs Hawthorne.”

  “You must call me Thorny. Everyone does.”

  “Okay, and I’m Jill. I wanted to speak to you because you’re one of only two season ticket holders who were on the Washbridge Flyer when the Shores died.”

  “That’s correct. How remiss of me; I haven’t offered you a drink. Would you like tea or coffee?”

  I settled for coffee, but passed on the shortbread biscuits.

  “Are you a steam train enthusiast, Thorny?”

  “Goodness no, but my late husband was. He lived for them. He used to go on The Flyer regularly, and I’d accompany him occasionally. I find that the sounds and smell of the train remind me of him. Silly, I know.”

  “Not at all. Which carriage were you in?”

  “The rear carriage, so I didn’t even see the couple who died. I’m probably not going to be much help, I’m afraid.”

  “You didn’t see anything at all? Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I know I shouldn’t complain given what happened to that poor couple, but that trip was particularly tiresome.”

  “Oh? Why so?”

  “Before I retired, I used to work as a literary agent. The guard, who was working in the buffet car, must have found out because he spent a good part of the journey pitching some awful novel to me. I told him that I was no longer in the business, but he was convinced I must still have connections. As it happens, I do, but I wouldn’t abuse those friendships by giving out their details to everyone with a book to peddle. In the end, I had to be very blunt, and told him that these days, in order to be published, you need an angle. Unless you’re a celebrity or have created some buzz in the media, you stand very little chance of landing a publishing deal. I’m not sure that’s what he was hoping to hear, but it seemed to do the trick because he finally took the hint and left me alone.”

  “And there’s nothing else about that journey that stands out?”

  “Nothing, I’m afraid. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

  Thorny was a delightful old girl, but she hadn’t been able to offer much help.

  ***

  I needed to find out more about the Shores’ relationship, so when I got back to the office, I went online to check out the newspapers published just after the incident. In one of The Bugle’s articles, there was a quote from a woman named Angie Crawford who was described as Gena Shore’s closest friend. The quote itself was unremarkable, but it struck me that this woman might be able to give me her take on the Shores’ relationship. So far, all I had to go on was what the Ganders had told me, and they were no doubt biased towards Gary. Tracking down Angie Crawford proved to be easy enough, and when I spoke to her on the phone, she agreed to meet with me the following day. I offered to go to her place, but she asked if we could meet in a coffee shop in Washbridge. I suggested Coffee Triangle. She’d never heard of it, but thought it sounded fun.

  I’d just finished on the call to Angie Crawford when Jules came through to my office.

  “There’s a woman here to see you; her name is Deli.”

  Oh bum! She would no doubt be distraught over Mad’s sudden departure.

  “You can send her through, but before you do, how are things between you and Gilbert? I couldn’t help but overhear the altercation earlier.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Jill; I just saw red. I feel bad now because I caught him on the side of the head with the stapler.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah. It didn’t break the skin. Anyway, we’ve made up now. He’s promised not to mention bottle tops again, and I’ve promised not to give Lules a hard time about the Miss Bottle Top competition.”

  Deli was wearing a boob tube and a micro skirt; a vision in yellow.

  “Deli. This is a surprise.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, Jill.” She glanced around. “Looks like Nails did a good job.”

  “He certainly did. I can’t thank you both enough. I suppose you’re here about Mad?”

  “Madeline? No. Nothing much I can do about that now. She’ll be back when she needs something. The reason I popped in was to let you know that we’re going to be neighbours.”

  “Are you moving to Smallwash?” Oh, no!

  “Me and Nails live in Smallwash?” She laughed. “It’s a bit too la-di-da for the likes of us. You wouldn’t want us dragging down the property prices, would you?”

  “Don’t be silly.” I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “I meant we’re going to be business neighbours.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve just signed a sub-lease with the sweaty guys next door.”

  “I-Sweat? I didn’t realise they were renting out space.”

  “They’ve got a few small rooms along the corridor that they aren’t using. I saw their ad in The Bugle.”

  “What will you be doing there?”

  “Nails.”

  “Oh, right, sorry. I didn’t realise it was Nails’ business. What will he be doing?”

  “No.” She laughed. “It isn’t Nails’ business; it’s mine. Nails are what I’ll be doing. I’m going to open a Nail Bar. It’ll be called: Nailed It! It was Nails who came up with the name. What do you think of it?”

  “It’s—err—great. I didn’t realise you were qualified as a nail—err—”

  “Technician? Oh yes. I did a correspondence course last summer. Got a diploma and everything.”

  “Right. It all sounds great. When will Nailed It! be opening?”

  “As soon as we’ve fitted it out. Nails is looking for equipment and furniture now. He reckons he knows where to pick some up second-hand. We’re going to have a big launch do—you can be our first customer if you like? You’ll get your picture in the paper.”

  “Thanks. That’s a very kind offer, but I don’t really go in for nail treatments. I know someone who’d love the opportunity, though.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “My sister, Kathy, loves to get her nails done. She’s one of the Everettes at Ever, on the high street.”

  “Ever whats?”

  “Haven’t you seen them? You should definitely check them out, particularly if you like red trouser suits.
”

  Snigger.

  ***

  Deli had no sooner left than something huge and furry appeared on my window sill. It was an enormous cat, and I didn’t need my detective skills to work out that it must be Big Gordy. I quickly cast a spell to hide Winky who had already scurried under the sofa.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Hello, darlin’.” He jumped down from the window sill, and then up onto my desk.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. Who are you, little witchy?”

  “Never mind who I am. Who are you, and what gives you the right to come strolling into my office?”

  “My name is Gordon, but everyone calls me Big Gordy. Would you like to know why?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “I’m here on a bit of unfinished business. If you could tell me where I can find a certain Mr Winky, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

  “Winky isn’t here.”

  “I can see that, but I can smell the salmon, so he can’t be very far away.”

  Mental note to self: renew the air fresheners. “Like I said, he isn’t here. He had an accident last night.”

  “What kind of accident?”

  “He was hit by a car. Nothing too serious, but the vet is going to keep him in for a few days.”

  “How tragic. I’m very sorry to hear that. Maybe you could give him a message from me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tell him that in light of the unfortunate circumstances in which he finds himself, I’m prepared to extend our arrangement until the end of the week. But no longer.”

  “What arrangement would that be?”

  “That’s confidential, darlin’. I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell him.”

  “How about you and I go for a cocktail? I know a bar not far from here.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass. Busy, busy, busy.”

  “Here’s my card, just in case you change your mind.”

  And with that, he hightailed it out of the office.

  “Has he gone?” invisible Winky said.

  “Yes. It’s all clear.” I reversed the ‘hide’ spell. “I assume you heard that? You have a week to come up with the money.”

  “I don’t suppose you could lend it to me?”

  “You don’t suppose correctly.”

  Chapter 7

  I’d arranged to meet Murray Murray at the colonel’s old house.

  “Welcome, Jill.” He greeted me at the door. “It must be a while since you were last here?”

  “It is,” I lied. Little did he know that I’d been at the house quite recently when I’d pretended to be Lady Raybourn, while working on the Hauntings Unlimited case.

  “Follow me.” He led the way down a corridor, and then stopped outside a door. “Listen,” he said, in a hushed voice.

  I listened, but could hear nothing, so I shrugged.

  “Put your ear to the door.”

  I did as he said, but could still hear nothing.

  He beckoned me to follow him to one of the reception rooms which looked out over the beautiful gardens.

  “You didn’t hear anything, I take it?” he said.

  “Not a thing. Should I have?”

  “Lorenzo, my ghostwriter, is in there now. He’s supposedly typing my novel on the manual typewriter, but I can’t hear a thing.”

  “Maybe he’s just thinking between writing sprints?”

  “But there are never any sounds. I’ve stood outside that door for ages, and yet I’ve never once heard the sound of the typewriter.”

  “The doors in this house are very thick, maybe—”

  Just then, there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Murray shouted.

  The man who entered the room was several stones overweight, and sweating profusely.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Murray, but I’ve finished for the day.” He walked over to Murray, and handed him several sheets of A4 paper.

  “Thanks, Lorenzo. See you on Monday.”

  “Same time?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I take it that was your ghostwriter?” I said, after the man had left.

  “Yes. I asked you over here at this time of day deliberately because I knew he’d be finished about now. Let’s go back to the office.”

  This time, Murray took me inside the room, in the centre of which was a table and chair. On the table was a solid-looking manual typewriter; next to it was a packet of white paper.

  “Will you go back out of the room, Jill, and close the door behind you? I’ll type a few words to see if you can hear me.”

  “Okay.”

  Moments later, I heard the typewriter keys striking the paper, so I went back inside. “Yes, I could hear you.”

  “That’s what I thought. And I was typing as light-fingered as I could. There’s no way that he can be typing without it being heard outside.”

  “I don’t understand what that means.” I admitted.

  “Neither do I, but I’m worried. I can’t afford for excerpts of this manuscript to be leaked, and right now, I don’t feel comfortable with what is happening here. Do you think you’ll be able to get to the bottom of it?”

  “Maybe. He said he would be back on Monday, didn’t he?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

  ***

  I’d promised Lules that I would ask Norman if he’d tutor her on the subject of bottle tops, but there was no sign of him when I called in at Top Of The World.

  “Can I help you?” A young man with slicked-back hair, and a sharp line in suits, cornered me.

  “I was looking for Norman?”

  “He isn’t here at the moment. I’m Rory Storey. Can I help?”

  “I just wanted a word with him.”

  “I have just the bottle top for you.”

  “No, thanks. I’m not a collector.”

  “You don’t need to be a collector to appreciate this little beauty. Just look at those lines. Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as that?”

  “It’s just a bottle top.”

  “This isn’t just any bottle top. It’s the elite of bottle tops. An investment that will pay rich dividends in years to come.”

  “I’m really not interested.”

  “No problem. I completely understand. You’ll probably be more interested in our budget range.”

  “I’m not interested in any bottle tops. Now, if you’d just tell me where I can find Norman.”

  “He’s gone down to Coffee Triangle with that bird from the bookies.”

  What a piece of work this guy was.

  I spotted Norman, sitting with Tonya in the far corner of the coffee shop.

  “Hello, you two.”

  Norman stared at me for a few moments before the lights came on, but then he recognised me.

  “Hello, Jill. This is Tonya.”

  “We’ve already met.” I smiled at her.

  “I’ve never seen you before in my life.” She stared blankly at me.

  “I’ve been in WashBets several times recently.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “I came in to see Ryan.”

  “If you had a complaint, you should have seen Bryan.”

  “Right, okay. Anyway, Norman, I was just wondering whether you’d have the time to tutor someone on the subject of bottle tops.”

  “Sure. When would you like to start?”

  “It isn’t for me; it’s for my PA, Jules, that I’m asking. Her sister is entering the Miss Bottle Top competition. As part of that contest, she has to display a knowledge of the bottle top industry. Her name is Lules.”

  “I thought you said it was Jules?”

  “No. Jules works for me. Lules is her sister.”

  “What does Lules do?”

  “She works at the black pudding factory, and she models part-time.”

  “Is she pretty?” Tonya interrupted.
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  “Err—well, she is currently Miss Black Pudding.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Normy,” Tonya said.

  “It’ll be cool, Tonny babe. I only have eyes for you. You know that.” He gave her a long, sloppy kiss. I averted my gaze until they came up for air.

  “When would Lules want to do this?” he asked.

  “Shall I tell her to get in touch with you at Top Of The World?”

  “Yeah. Ask her to drop in and see me.”

  “Great, thanks. Bye, Norman. Bye, Tonya.”

  As I walked away, I heard her say, “I’ve no idea who she is, Normy.”

  ***

  When I pulled onto my street, there were not one, but two removal vans parked across the road from our house. Jack was in the lounge, staring out of the front window.

  “It looks like both of our new neighbours are moving in,” he said, without even looking at me.

  “Don’t I get a kiss, nosey?”

  “I wasn’t being nosey. I was being an interested neighbour.” He gave me a quick kiss, but then went back to being nosey.

  “Have you seen who’s moving in?” I asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “It didn’t take the agent long to let those.”

  “That’s hardly surprising. Haven’t you seen the articles on the shortage of property to rent in and around Washbridge?”

  “Let’s hope that whoever it is doesn’t play the bagpipes. Or have a land train.”

  “We should give them a cake as a welcome to the neighbourhood present,” Jack suggested.

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s the neighbourly thing to do. Why don’t you bake a couple?”

  “No chance. If you want to give them cake, you’d better buy some from the corner shop.”

  “I will. In fact, I’ll go down there now.”

  “I’ll come with you. I could do with some fresh air. How are we for custard creams?”

  “Why are you asking me? It’s not like I’m allowed to eat them.”

  A quick check showed I was down to my last three packets, so it was definitely time to restock.

  “Do we need anything else while we’re there?” Jack said.