by Adele Abbott
“What book?”
“West had a book published some years ago. From all accounts, it bombed, but he still aspired to become a best-selling author. Barbara Hawthorne, one of the season ticket holders on The Flyer, is a retired literary agent. In all innocence, she mentioned to West that the only way he’d ever attract the attention of a publisher was if he was a celebrity, or had created some kind of buzz in the media. My guess is that West was actually the first person to find Gena Shore’s body.”
“Are you suggesting he murdered Gena Shore, too?”
“No. I’m almost certain that Gary Shore murdered his wife because she’d just told him that she was leaving him. Gary then killed himself by jumping off the train. Instead of reporting the death, West simply picked up the knife.”
“The murder weapon?”
“Yeah. He went back to the buffet car, and said nothing. Gena’s body was then discovered by Don Preston.”
“Why didn’t West report the murder? And why did he take the knife?”
“Like I said, it was all about the book. In his warped little mind, he figured that if he could make people believe there was a serial killer stalking The Flyer, it would attract the attention of the press. And, he was right. Look at how much publicity there has been since the second murder.”
“How did you know that West murdered Carol Strand?”
“He handed his notice in after the first murders. According to him, he was too traumatised to carry on in the job. On the second trip, his replacement, Stephen Pearce, was working in the buffet car.”
“So?” Sushi’s impatience was beginning to show.
“West still had his key to the guard’s van. He must have hidden in there on the day of the second trip. He still had his uniform too. He waited until the journey was almost at an end, then he came out of the guard’s van, walked up the carriage, and waited in the corridor. Carol Strand was just unlucky. Whoever had chosen to visit the toilet would have been the next victim. West killed her, dropped the knife where he knew it would be found, and then made his way back to the guard’s van.”
“Surely, someone would have seen him?”
“Why would they even notice. Most were too busy enjoying the trip, and even if they did happen to look up, they would have seen the uniform, but not necessarily the man.”
“So how did you work out he was on board that second trip?”
“After he’d killed Carol Strand, he was in such a hurry to get back to the guard’s van that he bumped into Barbara Hawthorne, causing her to spill her wine. She was the one who told me that West had been on that second trip.”
Sushi took a deep breath. “That’s all well and good, but I’m not sure we’ll have enough to get a conviction.”
“You have his confession.”
“If it stands up. Once he has lawyered up, there’ll be questions asked about how that confession was obtained. Once West starts spouting on about ghosts, I’m not sure what will happen. It would have been much better if you’d simply brought your suspicions to me.”
“Would you have given me the time of day?”
She smiled. “Probably not.”
Whether West would be convicted for the murder of Carol Strand, only time would tell. What was now certain was that Gary Shore had murdered his wife, and then taken his own life. That wasn’t the result that my ex-clients, the Ganders, had been hoping for.
***
When I arrived back at my office, Mrs V looked much brighter.
“I’m pleased to see you looking happier.”
“I’m fine. I don’t know why I let it get to me. It was only a silly competition.”
“You’re not still thinking about hanging up your dancing shoes, are you?”
“No. While these old legs of mine keep going, I’ll never quit dancing.”
“That’s the spirit.” I started towards my office.
“Jill!” Jules called after me. “Before you go, will you settle a wager for us?”
“Sure. If I can.”
“Mrs V reckons that you’re doing an amdram production of Murder at the Vicarage, but I told her that you’re doing The Unexpected Guest.”
“I—err—I—”
“This youngster thinks I’m going senile,” Mrs V said. “I know what you told me. It’s Murder at the Vicarage, isn’t it? Tell her, Jill. There’s a fiver riding on this.”
“I didn’t say you were going senile,” Jules said. “You just get things mixed up sometimes.”
“Well, Jill?”
They were both staring at me—waiting for an answer.
“In fact, you’re both right. It’s a hybrid production called—err—The Unexpected Guest is Murdered at the Vicarage.”
The two of them exchanged a puzzled look, and I took that opportunity to escape to my office where there was a cat waiting for me.
It wasn’t Winky.
“Peggy? Are you okay?”
“No. I don’t know where Winky is. I haven’t heard from him since Friday. I thought he might be ill; that’s why I came over, but then he wasn’t here either. Do you know where he is?”
“I thought he might have gone to visit his brother, Socks.”
“He would have told me if he had. I’m really worried, Jill.”
“I’m sure he’s okay. Winky knows how to look after himself.”
“I'm not so sure. Will you try to find him, please?”
“Err—yes, of course. You go back home, and try not to worry too much. I’ll make sure he gets in touch with you just as soon as I track him down.”
“Okay, thanks.” And with that, she disappeared out of the window.
I didn’t like to say anything to Peggy, in case I upset her, but a horrible thought had crossed my mind. Winky was supposed to pay his gambling debt to Big Gordy on Friday. The last I’d heard, he was still a few pounds short. Winky hadn’t seemed particularly worried, but what if Big Gordy had insisted on the full amount? What if it had turned nasty and Big Gordy had hurt Winky? What if Winky was lying injured somewhere?
Or worse?
I was annoyed at myself for not having thought of it sooner. If anything had happened to Winky, I’d never forgive myself.
Fortunately, I still had the phone number for his hacker friend, Tibby.
“Hello?”
“Tibby. It’s Jill Gooder. I’m Winky’s—”
“I know who you are. Is this urgent? I’m trying to fend off a DDOS attack.”
“Sorry, but it’s Winky. He’s gone missing, and I think Big Gordy may have something to do with it.”
“That’s not good. I warned Winky about the gambling.”
“Me too. Do you know where I can find Big Gordy?”
Much to my relief, he did.
The old brewery in Washbridge had been standing derelict for at least ten years. According to Tibby, Big Gordy’s hideout was located in the basement of the building. The brewery was surrounded by a high fence, and patrolled by guard dogs, which made it all the more surprising that Big Gordy would choose to base himself there. I levitated over the fence, and then made myself invisible in order to bypass the dogs.
I found the steps to the basement at the rear of the building. The door at the bottom was locked, but I could hear voices coming from inside. I knocked, and moments later, a bruiser of a cat answered the door.
“What do you want?”
“I’d like to see Big Gordy.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No.”
“Do one, then!”
Before he could close the door in my face, I used the ‘power’ spell to push it open. The force sent the cat spiralling backwards.
I was in a short corridor; the voices I’d heard seemed to be coming from behind the door at the far end.
“You can’t go in there!” The cat was back on his feet, and in hot pursuit.
“Watch me.”
The door was unlocked, so I stepped inside the smoke-filled room, and slammed the door closed behind me.
Sitting around the table were six cats: Big Gordy, Winky and four others. They were all holding cards, and in the centre of the table was a small pile of cash. In front of Winky was a much larger pile.
“Sorry, Big Gordy.” The door-cat had followed me into the room. “She just burst in.”
“Get out! I’ll deal with you later,” Big Gordy shouted, and then turned his attention to me. “If it isn’t the pretty, young witch. Would you like us to deal you in?”
“No, thanks. I’ve come to get Winky.”
“What are you?” Big Gordy laughed. “His nanny?”
“I’m okay here,” Winky said, rather unconvincingly.
“There’s an emergency. Your brother has been taken ill. You have to come straightaway.”
“Oh? Right.” He turned to Big Gordy. “Sorry, I have to go.”
Big Gordy didn’t look amused, but said nothing.
“I’ll help you with that.” I scooped up some of the cash that was on the table in front of Winky. He pocketed the rest.
“What’s wrong with Socks?” Winky asked, as soon as we were outside.
“Nothing. I just said that to get you out of there. I know you wanted to stay, but that guy is really bad news.”
“Stay?” Winky laughed. “I didn’t want to stay. I’ve been trying to get out of there for two days, but Big Gordy doesn’t like anyone to leave while they’re winning. He would have kept me there until he’d won every penny back. And some more.”
Rather than have to run the gauntlet of the guard dogs, I magicked us both back to my office.
“How do you cope with all that magic travel stuff?” Winky shook his head. “It makes me dizzy.”
“You get used to it.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Peggy came looking for you; she was really worried. I remembered you were due to see Big Gordy last Friday, so I figured there was a good chance you might be at his place. It was Tibby who told me where Gordy hangs out.”
“Did you tell Peggy that’s where you thought I was?”
“No. I didn’t want to worry her.”
“Good. She’d kill me if she knew where I’d been. Anyway, you can give me the rest of the cash now.”
“What cash?”
Season two of the Witch P.I. Mysteries draws to an exciting close in the next book:
Witch Is Why It Was Over
(Witch P.I. Mysteries #24)
ALSO FROM ADELE ABBOTT:
Susan Hall Investigates (A Candlefield/Washbridge Series)
Whoops! Our New Flatmate Is A Human
(Susan Hall Investigates #1)
Take a shy werewolf, a wizard who fancies himself as a ladies’ man, and a vampire dying for her first taste of human blood. Then add a human for good measure.
Web Site: http:www.AdeleAbbott.com
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