by Adele Abbott
“How did you get on with Norman?”
“Really well. He’s great fun. It’s a pity he already has a girlfriend.”
Unbelievable. Whatever it was that Norman had (and it certainly wasn’t brains), he should bottle it and sell it.
“That’s not all, Jill.” Lules was bursting to tell me the rest of her news. “I’ve been offered two modelling assignments already: one for a company that makes fizzy drinks, and the other for a bottle manufacturing company.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“I have to hold my hands up, and say I was wrong,” Jules admitted. “The competition has obviously been a good thing for Lules’ career.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“Is Mrs V coming in today?” I asked.
“No. She said that she and Armi were going to spend the whole day practising for the ballroom dancing competition.”
Inside my office, there was a queue of cats, all waiting to be served by Winky.
“Patience, everyone,” he said, from his position on the sofa. “There’s enough to go around.”
“I’ll take three,” the Persian at the front of the queue held out a twenty-pound note.
“Sorry.” Winky shook his head. “You know the rules. Two per person maximum.” He handed two of the tin foil hats to the disgruntled Persian.
I had lots of paperwork to catch up on, but I was way too intrigued to focus. Instead, I spent the next hour watching Winky selling his silly little hats. By the time everyone had been served, the pile of hats was half its former size.
“I don’t get it,” I said, once he and I were alone in the office.
“Don’t get what?” He didn’t look up—he was too busy counting his takings.
“Why the sudden demand for tin foil hats?”
He shrugged.
“And how could you possibly know this would happen?” I pressed him.
“Let’s just say I can read the trends.”
“You still have quite a few left.”
“These will be gone by tomorrow. In fact, I plan on making more tonight.”
There was more to this than met the eye; he was up to something, but I had no idea what it was.
***
I was determined to track down Helen Drewmore’s descendants. Finding them was the only chance I had of discovering more about what I’d seen and heard at CASS.
Just as Aunt Lucy had said, the Candlefield Electoral Society was located in Candlefield town hall. The young vampire who worked there was extremely helpful; she checked their records, and provided me with a list of the people in Candlefield who had the surname: Drewmore; there were only four of them.
The first two: Karen and Brian Drewmore lived at the same address—presumably man and wife? I found their phone number from the Candlefield phone directory, but there was no answer when I called, and no answerphone on which to leave a message. I’d have to try them again later.
Charles Drewmore answered on the first ring. He was a little cautious at first, but when I explained what I was trying to do, he couldn’t have been more helpful. It turned out that he had a keen interest in tracing his own family tree, and had done lots of research over recent years. That sounded promising until he told me that his research had not uncovered anyone named Helen Drewmore. He was quite sure that the person I was looking for, although they shared the same surname, was not a relative of his.
I called the last person on my list.
“Hello?”
“Is that Cynthia Drewmore?”
“Who’s that?”
“My name is Jill Gooder. I was hoping to speak with Cynthia Drewmore.”
“I’m Cynthia.”
“Right. This is going to sound kind of weird, but I’m trying to trace someone who lived a long time ago. Her name was Helen Drewmore.” I waited for a reaction, but there was none, so I continued, “Do you happen to know if any of your ancestors were called Helen?”
“What’s this all about?”
“It’s rather a long and complicated story, I’m afraid.”
“I’m rather busy at the moment. You’ve caught me in the middle of baking.”
“I’m sorry. If you could just tell me if you’re aware of anyone called Helen Drewmore, then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Come and see me tomorrow.”
“Err—right. Does that mean you do know her?”
“We can discuss it tomorrow, at midday. Do you have my address?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Before I could ask any more questions, she’d hung up. I had no idea what to make of that. Why did she want to meet with me? Did she know of a Helen Drewmore? If so, why not say so? Still, it was the only lead I had so far, so I definitely intended to follow it up.
While I was in Candlefield, I decided to drop in at Cuppy C. It would be nice to catch up with the two mothers-to-be.
What? No, of course it wasn’t only because I wanted a muffin. Sheesh!
“Hi, Jill.”
I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination, but Amber looked particularly radiant.
“Can I have a blueberry muffin and a coffee, please?”
“Yes, Jill. I’m feeling very well. Thanks for asking.”
“I don’t need to ask. I can see you are. You’re positively glowing.”
“Morning, Jill.” Pearl came from out the back.
“Wow! You’re both glowing. Pregnancy obviously suits the two of you.”
“You should try it.” Pearl grinned.
“Two new kids in the family is enough for now. Is there any chance of that muffin? A person could die of starvation.”
“Daze is over there. Why don’t you join her, and I’ll bring it over?” Amber offered.
“Okay, thanks.”
“Hi, Daze. Are you by yourself?”
“Yeah. I’ve left Blaze to clean out the fryer.”
“I bet he loves you for that. You’re still working at the chip shop, then?”
“Yeah. So far, the gargoyles have been a no-show. I’ll give it a few more days, but then we’ll have to call it a bust. My clothes stink of fish and chips. Anyway, never mind me and my woes, what about the twins?”
“You’ve heard, then?”
“Yeah. They’ve been telling everyone. They’re looking good, don’t you think?”
“Are you two talking about us?” Amber said, as she and Pearl joined us at the table.
“Daze was just saying how well you both look.”
“Thanks, Daze,” Pearl said. “I feel great.”
“How are you two going to cope with a baby and a new dog?” I asked.
“Didn’t we tell you? We called Duncan O’Nuts to tell him that we wouldn’t be able to take the puppies. It’s a shame, but we need to focus on the babies. We can get puppies for the kids when they’re old enough to play with them.”
“That’s a pity, but it’s probably for the best. What did Duncan say?”
“He was very understanding. He said he’d have no difficulty finding homes for the pups.”
***
Just as on my previous visit, I’d arranged to arrive at Murray Murray’s house a few minutes before his ghostwriter, Lorenzo Woolshape, was due to get there.
“I don’t understand what you hope to achieve, Jill?” Murray said. “Surely, if there was anything untoward going on, you would have seen it the last time you hid in the writing room?”
“I believe in being thorough. If I don’t uncover anything this time, I think it’s safe to assume that Lorenzo is on the level. I’ll go and hide in the office.”
“Okay. Do you want me to make myself scarce again?”
“Not this time. I’d like you to find an excuse to call Lorenzo out of the writing room, approximately ten minutes before the time he usually wraps things up.”
“He told me I should never disturb him when he’s writing.”
“I don’t care what he told you. You have to get him out of that
room.”
“Why?”
“There isn’t time to get into that now—he’ll be here any minute. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”
“What excuse shall I use?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Tell him the house is on fire if you have to. Just make sure you get him out of there.”
Fortunately, before Murray could ask any more awkward questions, there was a knock at the door.
“That must be him. You answer the door while I go and hide.”
Murray was obviously perplexed, but did as I asked. Meanwhile, I hurried through to the office, and made myself invisible.
A couple of minutes later, Murray showed Lorenzo into the room. Once alone, Lorenzo once again sat back in the chair with his feet on the desk.
The next couple of hours dragged, and it didn’t help that I had to put up with Lorenzo’s snoring.
When the door opened, Lorenzo almost fell backwards off his chair.
“Murray? I said I wasn’t to be disturbed under any circumstances.”
“I’m very sorry, but there’s a—err—fire. A fire drill. Everyone has to leave the house.”
“I didn’t hear an alarm?”
“You must have been too busy with your writing. Come on, we have to go now.”
Murray was a terrible liar, but Lorenzo was still only half awake, and in no state to argue.
Not long afterwards, the ghost appeared. He looked around, obviously wondering where Lorenzo was.
I reversed the ‘invisible’ spell. “I’ll take that.”
“Who are you?” He took a step back. “Where did you come from?”
“My name is Jill Gooder. I’ve been employed by your wife to find you. You are Malcolm Aynos, I assume?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand. You’re not a ghost.”
“I’m a witch, but I’m able to travel to GT.”
“I think I read about you in Ghost Times.”
“Sonya is beside herself with worry.”
“I thought she’d be glad to see the back of me; I wouldn’t blame her.”
“She’s been worried sick. Why didn’t you let her know where you were?”
“I should have done. I thought once I’d been paid for this assignment, that I’d surprise her with the cash I’d earned.”
“It’s not the money she wants—it’s you. You need to get in touch with her, and you need to do it right now.”
“What about this?” He held out the latest chapter of Murray’s novel.
“I’ll take that.”
He pulled away.
“It’s okay. Give it to me. I’ll make sure Lorenzo gets it.”
“Where is he, anyway?”
“He got called away, but don’t worry. I’ll see that he gets it.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.” He handed over the manuscript.
“Incidentally, Malcolm, how much is he paying you for this?”
“Two hundred pounds for the complete book.”
“I see. Okay, off you go! Call Sonya straightaway.”
“I will.” And with that, he disappeared.
Ten minutes later, Lorenzo came rushing into the room, to find me sitting in the chair with my feet up on the desk.
“You? What are you doing in here?” His gaze darted around the room—no doubt looking for the ‘real’ ghost writer.
“Waiting for you.”
“You have to leave now. I have work to do.”
“A lot of it, apparently. You don’t appear to have even started yet.”
“It won’t take me long to knock up a chapter. Now, if you wouldn’t mind leaving?”
“You won’t be wanting this, then?” I picked up the manuscript from off the floor.
“Where did you get that?” He tried to snatch it, but I was too quick for him.
“From Malcolm, the ‘real’ ghost writer.”
“Who are you really?”
“That’s not important right now. What is important is your answer to the next question. Will you undertake to pay Malcolm half the fee you’re being paid by Murray Murray?”
“Half? No! Why should I?”
“Maybe because he’s the one who’s doing the writing?”
“I can’t afford to give him half.”
“You can’t afford not to. If you don’t, I’ll tell Murray that you didn’t write the manuscript. I’ll tell him that you’ve paid someone else to do it.”
“He’s not going to believe that a ghost wrote it.”
“He doesn’t need to. If I tell him that you’ve paid someone else to write it, it won’t matter to Murray who that person is. You know how paranoid he is about keeping this secret. He wants the general public to think he’s authored it himself. So, what’s it to be? Will you pay Malcolm half, or do I tell Murray Murray?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll give him half.”
“You better had because I’ll be keeping a check on you. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good.” I handed him the manuscript. “Off you go now, and give that to Murray Murray.”
A few minutes after Lorenzo had left, Murray came to find me. “Well?”
“You were right. It was a waste of time. Lorenzo is on the level. You have nothing to worry about.”
“That’s great. Thanks, Jill. I can rest easy now. I was beginning to think that using a ghostwriter had been a huge mistake. You’ll send me your bill, I assume?”
“It’ll be in the post tonight.”
I started for the door, but Murray called me back. “Hold on, Jill. I might need your help again soon on another matter.”
“Oh?”
“A few items of silver have gone missing over the last few weeks. Nothing major, but it’s a little concerning. I’ve spoken to the police, so hopefully they’ll come up with something, but if they don’t, maybe I could give you a shout?”
“Of course. You know where to find me.”
“Thanks. I really didn’t know what I was taking on when I bought this old building; it’s just one expense after another. I noticed a few days ago that some of the ornamental features on the front of the house are missing. They must have been blown off during that recent bad storm we had. It’s weird, though, because I never spotted the debris on the ground.”
“Ornamental features?”
“Yeah, you know. Those ugly things. What do they call them?”
“Gargoyles?”
“Yeah. Gargoyles. That’s it.”
Chapter 17
As I drove back into Washbridge city centre, I reflected on a job well done. Murray Murray would get his manuscript, which had been written not by a ghostwriter, but by an actual ghost. Sonya Anyos’ mind would be put at ease once she’d heard from her husband, Malcolm. And he would get fair recompense for the work he was doing, rather than the measly two-hundred pounds that Lorenzo had been planning to pay him.
After parking the car, I made a detour to WashBets where, needless to say, I was greeted by Tonya.
“Can I help you?” She stared at me blankly—not a hint of recognition in her eyes.
“I’d like to see Ryan, please.”
“If it’s a complaint, you should speak to—”
“Bryan. I know.”
“Bryan’s left. If it’s a complaint, you need to see Dianne.”
“It isn’t a complaint. I’m a friend of Ryan’s. Not his girlfriend. Just a friend. Please tell him it’s about Megan.”
“Who’s Megan?”
“Megan is his girlfriend.”
“I thought you weren’t his girlfriend.”
Surely, no court would convict me if I strangled this woman.
When I eventually got to see Ryan, he was wearing his usual worried expression.
“What have I done this time?”
“It’s your parents.”
“What about them?”
“Megan thinks you’re ashamed to let her meet them. She thinks it’s because she used to work as a model.”
&
nbsp; “That’s nonsense. It’s just that—”
“I know what it is. I assume they live in Candlefield?”
“That’s right. It has nothing to do with being ashamed of Megan. They’d love her; I know they would.”
“So why not get them to come over to Washbridge? Couldn’t the four of you go out for dinner or something?”
“It’s not as easy as that. Neither of them has ever been to the human world. They were terrified for me when I decided to live and work here.”
“Well, one thing is for sure: Megan can’t go to Candlefield.”
“You’re in a similar position, aren’t you, Jill? How do you handle it?”
“It isn’t easy. My relatives do visit us, so that helps, but Jack still asks awkward questions. Sometimes I have no choice but to use the ‘forget’ spell to take Jack’s mind off the subject.”
“It’s okay for you. I can’t just cast a spell.”
“I know. All the more reason for you to try to convince your parents to come over to the human world.”
“You’re right. I’ll speak to them tonight. Thanks for doing this, Jill. I sometimes think that you’re the only thing keeping our relationship on track.”
“That’s okay. I just wish I didn’t have to get past Tonya every time I come to see you.”
“She can be a bit of a bulldog.”
I was walking past Ever when someone grabbed my arm, and pulled me inside.
“Grandma? What are you doing?”
“I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”
“About what?”
“The witchfinders, of course. Have you located them yet?”
“No, but then I have been really busy.”
“What kind of excuse is that? Finding the witchfinders should be your number one priority. If they catch you off guard, it will be the end of you. Zap! Just like that.”
“I know, and I’m being extra vigilant, but I haven’t spotted anyone who matches the description that Yvonne gave me.”
“Just don’t let your guard down. Okay?”
“I promise.”
Grandma returned to her office, and I went over to talk to Kathy who had just come down from the roof terrace.
