Witch is When My Heart Broke (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 9)

by Adele Abbott

  “Don’t worry, I won’t be inviting anyone over. I’m just practising my set.”

  “Your set?”

  “Come on, Jill. You’re not that old. You must know what a set is.”

  “Yes, I know what a set is. But since when were you a DJ?”

  “I’ve been a DJ since I was a kitten. But I’ve had so many other things going on in my life recently that I had to put it on a back burner. Then today, I got the urge to start gigging again.”

  “Gigging where?”

  “Clubs of course.”

  “No club is going to employ a cat as a DJ.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. There are any number of feline nightclubs who will be only too happy to give me a spot.”

  “There are feline nightclubs?”

  “Of course there are! Where do you think cats go in the evening? I bet you think they go hunting for mice, don’t you?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose—”

  “See that’s just part of the whole masquerade. You humans are so easy to fool. Most cats are out clubbing. Then in the morning, they pick up a dead mouse from Dead Quick Mice, and drop it on the doormat when they get home.”

  “Dead Quick Mice?”

  “A brilliant idea. I wish I’d come up with it. There’s a whole chain of them now.”

  “And they provide dead mice for cats to take back home?”

  “Precisely!”

  “So you’ve worked the feline nightclub circuit before?”

  “Yes, but it’s a few years ago. I’m a little rusty, which is why I needed to practise my set. Once I’m back up to speed, I’ll just make a few phone calls—and DJ Winky will be back in action.”

  “But what’s with the glitter ball? Even I know that went out with disco?”

  “For humans, maybe. The glitter ball is still going strong among the feline clubbers.”

  Who knew?

  “That’s all well and good, but how am I meant to get any work done with all that noise going on?”

  “If you actually had any work, I could see how that might be a problem. But that’s not something that happens very often, is it?”

  Cheek!

  “Listen to this.” He cued up the record. “What do you think?”

  Before I could object, he had his earphones on again, and began to mix a couple of tracks. I hated to admit it, but it was actually quite good. I couldn’t help myself. The next thing I knew I was boogieing to the beat.

  Then I heard the door open behind me. I turned around to find Jack Maxwell staring at me in disbelief. Fortunately, Winky had taken the hint and hidden behind the desk.

  “Jill?” Maxwell looked more than a little confused.

  “Hi, Jack. How are you?”

  “I’m okay.” He glanced over at the console, and then back at me. “Are you?”

  “You’re probably wondering about all this?”

  “Yeah. Just a bit.”

  “I can explain.” Probably.

  “Could you turn the music down?” He had his hands over his ears.

  Could I? It was a good question. There were a thousand buttons on the console, and I had no idea which controlled the volume, so I just lifted the stylus—scratching the vinyl in the process.

  “Thanks.” Jack appeared to be waiting for something by way of explanation.

  “This belongs to a friend. I said he could store it here for a few days while he moves house.”

  “I see. And the glitter ball?”

  “I thought I’d better check to make sure that it hadn’t been broken in the move.”

  “I see your big toe has mended.”

  Oh bum!

  “Yeah, it’s much better, thanks.” I wiggled my foot around.

  “That’s a remarkably quick recovery.”

  “I’ve always healed fast.”

  “Look, I only popped in to say hello while I was in the area. And to ask if you’ve managed to track down Gerry Baxter. He seems rather elusive.”

  “No, I haven’t been able to contact him either. Would you like a drink while you’re here?”

  “No, it’s okay. I have a meeting back at the station.” He glanced at the DJ console.

  “And, I can see you’re busy as usual. Enjoy your disco dancing. Oh, and I’m looking forward to seeing your dancing medals.”

  “Yeah. Can’t wait to show them to you.”

  After he’d left, Winky climbed back up onto the desk.

  “Medals?” He laughed. “You don’t have any dancing medals.”

  “I know. I’m in big trouble.”

  “Oh, and by the way.” Winky lifted his shades. “You owe me for the two records you’ve ruined.”

  ***

  I was hoping to speak to some of the other people who had been on the bridge when Carly Baxter disappeared. The obvious person to start with would have been her husband, but despite numerous phone calls, I still couldn’t get hold of him. The only other witnesses were the customers who had paid to make a bungee jump.

  Bouncers had a small unit on the Freeman Industrial Park, which was about seven miles from my office. Unsurprisingly, when I got there, the place was locked up. I made my way around to the back of the building where I spotted an open window. It was tiny, and certainly not large enough for a human to squeeze through, but a bit of magic goes a long way. I shrunk myself, and then began to levitate. It took all my focus because I was being buffeted back and forth by a stiff breeze. I eventually managed to make my way to the open window, and climbed inside. Once I had lowered myself to the floor, I reversed the ‘shrink’ spell.

  The office was small and basic. I tried to access the solitary computer, but it was password protected, so I checked the filing cabinet, and for once I was in luck. Inside, was a thick manila folder marked ‘Bookings’. The paperwork inside was in date order with the most recent on top. There had been eight people due to take part in the bungee jump when Carly Baxter disappeared. I took a photo of the sheet of paper with my phone. It contained the names, addresses and contact telephone numbers for all those who had booked to jump.

  Back at my office, I began to work through the list of names. The first three calls I made rang out; the fourth went straight to voicemail. On the fifth, I struck lucky.

  “Hello?” said a young woman.

  “Is that Jean Cumberland?”

  “Yes, who’s this?”

  “My name’s Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator. I’ve been hired by the sister of Carly Baxter.”

  “The bungee jump woman?”

  “That’s right. Her sister has asked me to try to find her. Would it be possible for me to meet up with you to ask a few questions?”

  “I guess so, but I’m not in town at the moment. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Do you know Coffee Triangle?”

  “Yes. I sometimes go there on gong day.”

  “Can we meet there tomorrow? Say two o’ clock?”

  “Sure, I’ll see you there.”

  ***

  The twins practically fell over themselves to get to me when I walked into Cuppy C.

  “Jill! We’ve got amazing news!” Amber screamed.

  “Yeah. It’s brilliant!” Pearl yelled.

  “Steady on girls. Let’s have a seat, and you can tell me all about it.”

  We found a quiet corner, and they eventually managed to calm down enough to tell me their news.

  “We’ve been asked to be in the video for Trixie Day,” Amber said, almost breathless.

  “Who?”

  “What do you mean, who?” Pearl said. “Trixie Day!”

  “Yeah. Who’s she?”

  They both sighed. “You’re absolutely hopeless, Jill. You’re supposed to be a witch, but you don’t know anything about sup pop music at all, do you?”

  “Apparently not. So is she big?”

  “She’s the coolest pop star there is at the moment. She’s had tons of hits. Her album’s at the top of the Candlefield charts, and her singles are selling
like hot cakes.”

  “What kind of music is she into?”

  “It’s hard to describe. I’ll lend you one of her albums.”

  “Okay, thanks. But, how come she’s asked you to appear in her video?”

  “Apparently, her new single is going to be called Twins,” Amber said. “She’s been searching for ages to find young female twins about our age to appear in the video. She’s had all of her people searching high and low. Anyway, the other day, one of the women who work for her P.R. company, a woman called, what was her name?” Pearl looked to her sister.

  Amber thought about it for a moment. “Emier. Patty Emier.”

  “Yeah, that’s it, Patty Emier. She just happened to pop into Cuppy C for a coffee, and she saw us behind the counter.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “Nothing—we didn’t even know she’d been in the shop. She didn’t introduce herself at the time. The first we heard of it was a couple of days later when she telephoned. Apparently, she’d taken our photo, and sent it to Trixie Day’s manager. He showed it to Trixie Day, and she said we were exactly what she was looking for.”

  “Wow. So you’re going to be in her pop video?”

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Amber could barely contain her excitement.

  “When is all this going to happen? Are they going to come to the shop to do the video?”

  “We don’t know when or where it will happen yet, Patty Emier is going to let us know.”

  “Will you get paid?”

  “We don’t care,” Amber said. “We just want to be famous. Everybody in Candlefield will see the video. Cuppy C will be buzzing after that. People will probably want our autographs.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourselves, girls. It’s only a pop video.”

  “Not just any old pop video,” Pearl said. “It’s Trixie Day’s pop video.”

  “I’m very pleased for you both. It sounds really exciting.”

  Chapter 3

  Kathy was right—I was a terrible person. I did used to call Lottie, Spotty Lottie. And, to be honest, it never even occurred to me that I was being horrible at the time. How would I have liked it if someone had called me spotty? I would have been really upset. I never actually said it to her face, but I suppose that makes it even worse.

  Hopefully, Lottie had been blissfully unaware of my name calling. But what if she had known? What if she still held a grudge? Was I going to get my comeuppance? I was about to find out because Kathy had asked if I could borrow her dancing medals, and she’d said I could. Lottie had been rather surprised by the request, but I’d already primed Kathy to say that my friend’s young daughter wasn’t very enthusiastic about taking ballroom dancing lessons. The girl’s mother thought that if she could see the medals, that would encourage her to go ahead with them. It had sounded far-fetched even to me, but apparently Lottie was happy to help. I’d tried to persuade Kathy to collect them for me, but she’d refused point-blank. She said that if I wanted to borrow them, I would have to do it myself.

  She lived in one of the more upmarket areas of Washbridge. When I arrived, I was astounded. Her house was huge, modern and obviously very expensive. It was one of the nicest properties I’d ever seen in Washbridge. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of woman Lottie had become. She’d been a gangly, awkward kid.

  I parked on the road outside her house, and walked up the long drive, which had perfectly manicured lawns on either side. When I rang the bell, a staggeringly beautiful woman answered the door.

  “Jill?”

  It was only when I heard her voice that I realised it was her. “Lottie?”

  “Hi! It’s so great to see you. It’s been ages.” She threw her arms around me and gave me a hug.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. How could the woman standing in front of me be Lottie Baines? She certainly wasn’t Spotty Lottie now. Her complexion was blemish-free, and put mine to shame. Her hair looked amazing. Her make-up was subtle, but effective, and she looked as though she worked out every day.

  “Come in, Jill. I’m so happy to see you again.”

  It was like stepping into a show house. Lottie certainly had exquisite taste.

  “Kathy said you’d like to borrow my dancing medals?”

  “Yeah, please. If that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is. You’re lucky though because I’ve nearly thrown them out a thousand times. They’re just gathering dust in the garage. I haven’t looked at them for years. Kathy said you’ve got a friend whose daughter might be interested in ballroom dancing?”

  “That’s right. I thought seeing your medals might encourage her to take it up.”

  “That’s a great idea. I’m only too pleased to help. Anyway, what are you doing these days? Are you still working at your dad’s old place?”

  “Yeah, I took over the business.”

  “So you’re a detective?”

  “I am.”

  “Wow. That must be really exciting.”

  “It can be. What about you? What do you do?”

  “I have my own business now too. I opened one fitness centre, and then another, and another—I’ve got a whole chain of them now.”

  “Really? That’s fantastic!”

  “If you ever decide to join a fitness club, let me know and I’ll do you a sweet deal.”

  “Thanks. It certainly looks like you work out.”

  “I can hardly turn up to my own health club looking like a couch potato. Dan and I train together.”

  “Dan?”

  “My husband. We’ve been married for nine years now. He runs the business with me. Look.” She pointed to a photo on the hall table. The man standing next to Lottie was some kind of Adonis. How had Spotty Lottie ended up with a man like that? She had the perfect husband, the perfect house, and her own business, which if this house was anything to go by, was making a ton of money.

  Jealous? Who me? You bet I was.

  “Would you like to stay for a drink, Jill? We can talk about old times. Do you remember when we used to dance—you, me and Kathy?”

  How could I forget?

  “You were pretty rubbish back then.” She laughed.

  That’s when it all came back to me. Lottie and Kathy used to take the mickey out of me because I was useless at dancing. They used to point at me and laugh. Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so bad about my name calling.

  “Sorry, I can’t stay Lottie—I’m on a case.”

  “How exciting! I don’t want to keep you from that. I’ll go and grab the box of medals.”

  She disappeared for a few minutes, which gave me time to take a quick look around the ground floor of the house. It was spectacular, and must have cost a small fortune.

  A couple of minutes later, she came back with the box.

  “There you go. It’s a bit heavy. There are a lot of them.”

  “Thanks for this, Lottie. I shouldn’t need them for very long.”

  “Keep them for as long as you like. They’re only gathering dust. I hope your friend’s daughter decides to go ahead with the ballroom dancing.”

  “Me too. Well, see you soon.”

  “Bye, Jill.”

  ***

  It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I hadn’t bothered calling in the supermarket in town because I expected to be able to pick up custard creams from the convenience store across the road from my block of flats. But, they didn’t have any.

  “We have plenty of jammy dodgers,” the woman behind the counter offered.

  “Jammy dodgers? Is that meant to be a joke?”

  “They’re very popular with our customers.”

  “Not with me, they’re not. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a jammy dodger, but please, do not compare them to custard creams. Surely there’s enough shelf space to accommodate both.”

  “Normally there would be, but we’re running a special offer on jammy dodgers at the moment, so we need the shelf space for them. At least until the offer ends.”

&nbs
p; “What am I meant to do?”

  “Buy some jammy dodgers?”

  I walked out in disgust. How dare they call themselves a convenience store?

  The newsagent next door had recently changed hands. It had been closed for almost two weeks while the property was renovated, but had now reopened. I decided to check it out.

  “Good evening.” The man behind the counter was wearing a fedora, which while very dapper, felt a little out of place in a newsagent. “I’m the new owner, Jasper. Jasper James. Do you live around here?”

  “Yes, in the flats across the road.”

  “And do you have a regular newspaper?”

  “No, not really.”

  “What about a magazine? We have lots of them. You look like you might enjoy a knitting magazine or perhaps crochet?”

  “Not me. That would be my secretary.”

  “Maybe you’re a gardener, then?”

  “Not that you’d notice.”

  “We have magazines for every interest. What sort of things are you into? I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Jill Gooder.”

  “Well, Jill, I’m sure there must be a magazine here that would suit your interests. What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  “How jolly interesting. Well, you’re in luck. We’ve just taken delivery of the latest issue of P.I. Monthly.”

  Who knew there was such a thing?

  “Would you like to try a copy?”

  “Why not?”

  He wandered down the row of magazines, and came back clutching one. On the cover was a photo of a man holding a magnifying glass. How very stereotypical. Still, perhaps it would have some useful tips on marketing—I certainly needed some.

  “Would you like to take out a subscription?”

  “I’ll see what I make of this one, first.”

  ***

  Thanks to my inconvenient convenience store, I had only two custard creams to last me all evening. That was unless I could be bothered to jump in the car and go to the supermarket. I was still debating whether or not to go when there was a knock at the door. If it was Kathy, I was determined she wasn’t going to get her hands on my last two custard creams. So, before I answered the door, I hid them in the wardrobe.