by Adele Abbott
I was working on precisely zero cases at that moment, but I didn’t want to sound too eager. “I might be able to squeeze it in.”
“I’d be so grateful. Bob told me what a wonderful job you did when Amanda was kidnapped. When could you start?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know my fees first?”
“Money is no object.”
Sweet music to my ears.
“Okay, then. Maybe I should start by asking you a few questions. Before we begin, can I get you a drink?”
“A coffee would be nice. Black, no sugar. Is there a toilet I can use?”
“Out through the main office, and along the corridor. It’s the second on your left.”
While Carver was paying a visit, I organised the drinks with Jules. Thankfully, her balancing skills had improved dramatically over recent months. Spillages were at an all-time low.
“Why did you lie to him?” Winky said.
“About what?”
“You said I’d been with you since I was a kitten.”
“Oh, that? That was nothing.”
“He looks familiar.”
“Who does?”
“Your new client. I feel like I know him from somewhere.”
“I imagine all humans look the same to a cat.”
“Of course they don’t. No, there’s something decidedly familiar about him.”
Fortunately, Carver came back just at that moment.
“Thanks for the coffee.” He took a sip. “Where would you like to start?”
“You said that you and Dale were best friends? Do you skydive too?”
“Me?” He smiled. “I hate flying. It’s all I can do to get onto a plane. I’m certainly never going to jump out of one. Dale was always the daredevil—even as a kid.”
“Had he been skydiving long?”
“For at least fifteen years. He had hundreds of jumps under his belt.”
“Could he have become complacent?”
“Never. He was a stickler for detail, and never cut corners when it came to safety. And besides, like I said, the parachute was found to be in perfect working order, but the cord hadn’t been pulled.”
“The article said he’d jumped with his wife?”
“That’s right. Lesley is almost as experienced as Dale. They often jumped together.”
“Was their marriage solid?”
“I’m not sure. I got the feeling that they might have been having a few problems.”
“He told you that?”
“Not in so many words. I just got that vibe. Lesley is his second wife. His first, Patricia, died about fourteen years ago—cancer—quite tragic.”
“Had he been acting differently recently?”
“Not really—same old Dale.”
“I’ll need to speak to his wife, and to whoever was piloting the aircraft that day. Is there anyone else you think I should talk to?”
“Dale had a difficult relationship with his son, Shane. From what I hear, he never really accepted his stepmother. And I believe that Dale and his brother, Philip, had had some kind of falling out.”
“Okay. What about his business? Was it doing okay?”
“He never really discussed it, but yeah, as far as I know, everything was alright. You should speak to Robert Lane. He’s Dale’s partner. He’s a skydiver too. In fact, I have a photograph of the three of them.” Carver took out his phone. “There, that’s Dale on the left with Lesley and Robert, on one of their skydiving jaunts.”
“That’s probably enough to be going on with. If you leave your contact details with my receptionist on the way out, I’ll be in touch as soon as I have anything to report.”
***
By the time my new client had left, Winky was fast asleep on the sofa. Was it possible that my one-eyed, darling cat had once belonged to Carver? And if he had, what should I do about it? As much as he drove me crazy, I’d hate to give Winky up. Maybe it was just a coincidence?
“This came while you were with that client.” Jules passed me a flyer.
Coffee Triangle’s ‘Big’ Day!
I gave it a quick glance. “It doesn’t give much detail.”
The flyer said little more than that they would be holding their ‘Big’ day in three days’ time.
“Maybe it means you can ‘go large’ for free on that day,” Jules suggested.
Go large? I hated that stupid phrase. Why can’t people just say: would you like a large cup? No one ever says: do you want to go small? Do they?
“How exciting. Not!” I screwed up the flyer, and threw it into the bin.
“Shall I take away these cups, Jill?”
“Yes, please. And well done on the coffee. Not a single spillage.”
“Thanks.”
My phone rang.
“I’d better take this.”
Jules grabbed the cups, and went back to the outer office.
“Aunt Lucy?”
“Jill, can you get over here straight away? There’s something I think you need to see.”
“What?”
“No time to explain. Come now or you’ll miss it.”
I magicked myself over to Aunt Lucy’s house. She was in the lounge, staring at the TV. That in itself was unusual. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her watch TV before. In fact, it seemed that very few people in the sup world bothered with it.
“Look!” Aunt Lucy pointed.
On screen, a young witch with red hair was about to interview a man whose face had been deliberately obscured so he couldn’t be recognised.
“Welcome to Candle Investigates. My name is Eileen Clare.”
E. Clare? Seriously?
“Today we will be discussing unusual goings-on at the sup world’s most prestigious school: Candlefield Academy of Supernatural Studies or CASS, as it’s more commonly known. In the studio with me is a man who I will refer to as Mr X. Mr X has requested that we do not divulge his identity.” She turned to face the mystery man. “Mr X, would you tell the viewers, in your own words, exactly what happened at CASS?”
“Certainly, Eileen.” The man’s voice had been distorted so he sounded like a robot. “The school is protected by a high wall, and a number of other anti-dragon defences. However, on this particular day, the wall was breached by a pouchfeeder.”
For the benefit of the viewers, a photo of a pouchfeeder was displayed momentarily on-screen. The sight of the beast sent a shiver down my spine, as I remembered how close Tommy Bestwick had come to meeting a grisly end.
Mr X continued. “The pouchfeeder had grabbed one of the pupils—a young boy. It had the boy in its pouch, and was headed back to the breached section of wall. If it had got out, it would have been curtains for the boy.”
“But that didn’t happen?” Eclair prompted.
“No, thank goodness. He was saved by Jill Gooder.”
“For the benefit of any viewers who may not already know, Jill Gooder turned down the opportunity to become the first ever level seven witch. Sorry to interrupt you, Mr X. Now, tell me, wasn’t there something unusual in the manner in which Jill Gooder rescued the boy?”
“There was. At first it seemed to be a lost cause because there was no way to get to the breached section of wall in time to intercept the creature, but then Jill took a shortcut through a passageway which led straight to that section of the building.”
“Surely, that was a sensible thing to do?”
“Of course, but the thing is that no one at CASS knew the secret passageway existed.”
“Are you sure? No one?”
“I’m positive. And yet, Jill went straight to it.”
By now, I’d worked out that the man in the studio must be one of the two wizards who had helped Tommy out of the pouchfeeder’s pouch.
“How do you explain that?” Eclair asked.
“I can’t. Everyone at the school was talking about it for days afterwards; no one understands what happened.”
“Thank you, Mr X.” Eclair turned to face the camera. �
�So, viewers, what are we to make of that? How could Jill Gooder, who supposedly had never visited CASS before, have known about the secret passageway? But, perhaps the more important question is: who is Jill Gooder? The story goes that she was raised in the human world—totally oblivious to the fact that she was a witch. In less than two short years, since discovering the truth, she has gone from zero to level seven. Remarkable. Or is it? Is there more to this story than Jill Gooder would have us know? We at Candle Investigates believe that the people of Candlefield deserve answers, and we intend to get them.”
With that piece of theatre, the closing credits rolled.
“What was that all about?” I stared at the screen in disbelief.
“It was first broadcast last night,” Aunt Lucy said. “The reruns are being shown every few hours.”
“I don’t understand what she was trying to insinuate. It’s as though she thinks I have something to hide.”
“I’ve never liked that woman.” Aunt Lucy turned off the TV. “It seems to me she just likes to cause trouble.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“What can you do? Ignore it—I would. It’ll all be forgotten inside a week.”
“You’re probably right. While I’m here, there’s something I want to ask you. It’s about Barry.”
Chapter 3
When I arrived home, my neighbour, Megan Lovemore, had just pulled onto her drive. Megan was still juggling her twin roles as a model and gardener.
“Hi, Jill. You’re home early.”
“Yeah. I figured I deserved an early finish. How’s the gardening business coming along?”
“Absolutely great. I’ve been asked to tender for providing regular maintenance to Washbridge House.”
“Really?” Washbridge House was the nearest thing that Washbridge had to a stately home. I’d visited there a few times—the gardens were huge. “Are you equipped to handle a contract like that?”
“I know what you’re thinking. It’s too big a job for me to take on. I thought the same thing. I would never have dreamed of submitting a tender, but then Quentin called me, and suggested I do it.”
“Quentin?”
“Quentin Rathbone. He’s the owner’s eldest son, and heir to the estate.”
“I see. How do you know him?”
“We used to date. It was a couple of years ago, but we still keep in touch. He said I’d be in with a good chance. If I do land the contract, I’ll have to recruit a lot of staff.”
“Well, good luck with it.”
“Thanks, Jill.”
All through dinner, I could sense that Jack had something on his mind. I figured it must be to do with work, so didn’t press him. Besides, I needed to talk to him about Barry, and to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t looking forward to it.
After dinner, we went through to the lounge.
“There’s something we need to talk about,” we both said in almost perfect unison.
“You go first,” he said.
“No. You, please.”
“Okay. Look, I realise it was my idea in the first place, but I think Barry was a mistake.” Jack could barely make eye contact with me.
“You can’t call Barry a mistake!”
“That’s not what I meant. He isn’t a mistake, but having him here was. He’s just too much. Do you think we might be able to find him a more suitable home?”
“I suppose I could always check back with the people I got him from to see if they could rehome him.”
“I’ll do it if you like. After all, it’s my fault.”
“That’s okay. They know me. I’ll speak to them.”
“You seem to be taking this awfully well, Jill. I thought you’d explode.”
“Me? Why would I? Aren’t I always the epitome of calm?”
It would be difficult to accurately describe the look on Jack’s face.
“What was it you wanted to talk about?” he asked.
“Me—err—I forget. Oh, wait. Mrs Mopp handed her notice in this morning.”
“Why?”
“Who knows why that woman does anything? I tried to get her to reconsider, but her mind was made up.”
“To be honest, I won’t be sorry to see the back of her. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for asking about the ironing. What are we going to do?”
“We aren’t going to do anything. Seeing as I have to relocate the dog, you can take responsibility for finding a new cleaner. You could start by putting an ad in the window of the corner shop.”
“I can do that. In fact, I’ll do it now. Strike while the iron is hot.”
“It’s under new ownership by the way. A little man by the name of Jack Corner.” I laughed. “Little Jack Corner.”
“I don’t get it.”
Sheesh! “Never mind. I’ll make a phone call about Barry while you’re down there.”
I waited until Jack had left the house, and then went to see Barry who was asleep on the landing—Mrs Rollo had worn him out with a walk around the village.
“Barry! Wake up!”
“I’m tired.”
“Wake up!”
“I’m too tired to walk.”
“I have news. You can go back to the other place.”
“I can?” He leapt to his feet. “To the park, and Babs?”
“Yep.”
“When?”
“In the morning.”
“Thanks, Jill.” He planted his paws on my chest, and gave me a sloppy lick. Yuk!
“Mr Corner really is tiny, isn’t he?” Jack said when he got back from the shop.
“Did he have his thumb in a pie?”
“Sorry?”
“Never mind. I’ve made a call, and they’re happy to take Barry back. They said they have just the home for him.”
“They do? That’s great. I have to say, Jill, you’ve taken this remarkably well.”
“I’m disappointed, obviously, but your happiness is the most important thing in my life.”
What? Too much? I don’t think so—you’ve got to milk it for all it’s worth.
***
The next morning, Barry was on my case as soon as I got up.
“When are we going, Jill? I want to see Babs. I want to go to the park.”
“He’s even more excitable than usual,” Jack commented, on his way to the kitchen. “It’s as though he knows.”
“Calm down,” I said to Barry. “We’ll go as soon as Jack’s gone to work.”
“Did you say something?” Jack called from the kitchen.
“No. Just talking to the dog.”
As soon as Jack was out of the door, I magicked myself and Barry over to Aunt Lucy’s house.
“I’m back!” He jumped onto the sofa, next to Aunt Lucy, and began to lick her face.
“It’s good to have you back, boy. I’ve missed you.”
“Can we go to the park? Can we? I love the park.”
“Come on then.” She took his lead. “Do you want to come with us, Jill?”
“No, thanks. I thought I’d drop in at Cuppy C.”
“For a muffin?”
“Hmm? I hadn’t thought about that, but now you come to mention it—”
“Barry!” Lester came into the room. “Good to have you back, boy!”
The big soft dog bounded over to him.
“Is the training still going okay?” I asked Lester.
“Apart from the body snatchers.”
“They’re still at it?”
“Oh, yes. It’s getting ridiculous. There have been dozens of bodies snatched now. Monica says she’s never known anything on this scale before.”
After I’d said my goodbyes, I went in search of blueberry muffinness.
As soon as I walked into Cuppy C, I realised that several people were staring at me.
“Have I got something on my face?” I asked Pearl.
“No. Why?”
“They’re all staring at me.”
“It’s because of that TV
programme,” Pearl said. “Haven’t you seen it?”
“I saw it at Aunt Lucy’s.”
“Everyone’s talking about it,” Amber said.
“Great.”
“Lots of people have asked us about you today.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That there was nothing to tell. We said you were just a regular witch.” Pearl hesitated. “Who just happened to go from zero to level seven in no time at all.”
“And who can sniff out hidden passageways.” Amber grinned.
“Thanks very much, you two. I should have known I could rely on you to be discreet. Can I get a coffee and a blueberry muffin?”
“Do you want to go large?”
“When did you start with the going large nonsense? Just give me a regular.”
“Isn’t that what they say in the human world?”
“It’s not what I say.”
“We’re getting genned up for our weekend in London.” Amber passed me the coffee.
“I’d forgotten about that. Have you booked it yet?”
“No,” Pearl said. “We wanted to talk to you first.”
“Me? Why?”
“We thought you might like to come with us?”
“Go with you?” I almost spat out the coffee. “Why would you want me to tag along?”
“It turns out there’s a special offer on the accommodation and rail package.”
“Won’t you just magic yourselves there?”
“No. We want the full experience. We’re going to get a train from Washbridge. And it turns out there’s a special offer: Three for the price of two.”
Three for two, eh? That meant I’d get to go for free. I hadn’t been too keen on the idea of a weekend in London with the twins, but as it was free.
“Okay. I’ll make up the numbers.”
“Great. Sharing the cost three ways will make it much cheaper for us. Thanks, Jill.”
“Sharing the cost?”
“Yeah.”
“Three ways?”
“Yeah. It’s going to be great, isn’t it?”
“Great, yeah.”
Just then, a man walked past us, and towards the stairs.
