Witch is When The Bubble Burst (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 5)

by Adele Abbott

  “It is—” I spun back around. “You can speak again!”

  “I was just messing with your head. You’re so gullible.” He was rolling around on his back and laughing.

  “This was all a joke?”

  “I have to do something to amuse myself. Seeing as you won’t take me home with you, and I’m stuck in this office all day long. I even had the old bag lady fooled. She called me her little darling this morning.” He rolled around in hysterics.

  “You’re evil. Do you know?”

  “Aw come on. Where’s your sense of humour? It was funny, and anyway, it sounded to me like you’ve been missing our little tête-à-têtes.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Don’t pretend you weren’t. Didn’t you just say that you might take me to the vet?”

  I slammed the fridge door shut.

  “Hey! Where’s my milk?”

  “Sorry. All out.”

  I held out for another thirty minutes before I gave in to his constant complaining. The full cream milk did the trick. I would never have admitted it to him, but I had kind of missed his banter. Yes, he drove me mad some—strike that—most of the time, but I hated the thought of going back to purrs and meows. Lapping up the milk had obviously worn him out because he was now fast asleep on the window sill. Mrs V would be in for a nasty shock when she realised he’d reverted to his loathsome self.

  “Jill!” Mrs V’s voice crackled through the intercom.

  Rather than waste my breath trying to get her to hear me, I walked through to the front office.

  “This gentleman would like to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment. I told him you were busy.”

  In his late teens, maybe early twenties, the young man was wearing ripped jeans and a blue shirt. With his deep blue eyes and floppy fringe, he would have looked good in anything.

  “Please, Mrs Gooder,” he said. “This is really important.”

  “It’s Miss. Come on through.”

  “Young man,” Mrs V called to him. “Take this.” She handed him a blue scarf to match his jeans and shirt.

  He looked at me; I shrugged.

  “My name is Steve. Steve Lister.”

  “Take a seat, Steve. What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve read several articles about you recently. About how you caught the ‘Animal’ serial killer and stuff.”

  There never was a serial killer, but if the myth brought in the punters, who was I to disillusion them?

  “It’s my girlfriend,” he said.

  Of course it is. It always is.

  “She’s been kidnapped.”

  Alarm bells began to ring. There weren’t that many kidnappings in Washbridge, and I had a horrible feeling that I knew who his girlfriend was.

  “Amanda Banks?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “I saw it in the Bugle,” I said.

  “That’s where I read the article where you slammed the Washbridge police for being incompetent.”

  “I didn’t actually—”

  “Well you’re right. They won’t tell me anything, and they don’t seem to have a clue. That’s why I need your help.”

  “I’m really sorry, but I can’t.”

  “I have money. Whatever you charge, it isn’t a problem.”

  That would have been music to my ears normally, but this was different. With any other case I wouldn’t have hesitated, but a kidnapping? Knowing what happened with the Camberley case, there was no way I could take this on if I wanted to maintain any kind of relationship, professional or otherwise, with Jack Maxwell.

  “It isn’t the money. Look, I’m really sorry, but I’m snowed under with work at the moment. I just wouldn’t be able to give enough time to the case. I’m really very sorry.”

  His face fell, and it felt like I’d kicked a kitten.

  “Sorry,” I said again as he left.

  “Another satisfied customer,” Winky quipped after the young man had gone.

  Contrary to what I’d told Steve Lister, I wasn’t actually that busy. The anticipated influx of business following my recent high profile cases hadn’t materialised—at least not in the numbers I’d hoped for. The kidnapping case would have been a great one to get my teeth into, and I was still annoyed at having to turn it down. Jack Maxwell had better appreciate the sacrifices I was making for him.

  While things were quiet, I decided to put in a little magic practise. I’d been playing around with the ‘move’ spell recently. It was fairly simple in that it allowed me to pick up and move objects using only the power of thought. As was often the case, the problem lay not in performing the spell, but in refining it in such a way that I had tight control over exactly where the object was moved to. It was simple to lift a pen off my desk and place it on the sofa, but if I wanted to move it to a specific spot, that was way more tricky. Curiously, I found it was more difficult to be accurate with smaller, lighter objects than with more solid ones. That’s why I decided to try it on Winky’s little flags which were now back on the window sill. He was staring out through the window, and the flags were right behind him.

  Here goes.

  I cast the spell, and then focused on one of the flags. Gently and slowly I raised it from the window sill. Winky was so engrossed with whatever he was looking at that he didn’t notice it start to float towards my desk. I wanted to lower it onto the A4 pad which was on the desk in front of me.

  “Hey!” Winky yelled.

  The noise almost broke my concentration, but I managed to regain my focus just in time.

  “What are you doing with my flag?”

  “Shush! I’m trying to concentrate.”

  “And I’m trying to reply to Bella. She’s just made a rather interesting proposal, and I need to tell her yes.”

  “Shush! You’ll have to wait.”

  “This can’t wait. She might change her mind.” He began to signal with his solo flag. “She doesn’t know what I’m saying. Give it back.”

  “Shush! Nearly done.”

  The flag was now hovering over my desk. A little fine adjustment was necessary to make sure it hit the right spot.

  “Hurry up!”

  “Quiet!”

  Slowly it came to rest on the A4 pad—result!

  “Give me that flag!”

  “There you are.”

  He snatched it from my hand and began to signal frantically.

  “Damn it! That’s your fault,” he shouted at me. “She’s changed her mind now. She said I’d taken too long.”

  “Sorry.” I laughed.

  “You will be.”

  I spent the next hour refining my technique on the ‘move’ spell. I didn’t use Winky’s flags again—it would have been more than my life was worth. He was desperately trying to persuade Bella to give him another chance. Part of me wanted to ask what exactly she’d proposed, but another part of me thought I was better off not knowing.

  “I have a bone to pick with you!”

  I was so startled that I lost focus on the paperweight which was floating across the room, and it crashed to the floor.

  “Grandma? Where did you spring from?”

  She’d appeared in my office out of thin air. I shouldn’t have been surprised—she had a habit of turning up out of the blue.

  “Never mind where I sprang from. What about my bone?”

  “What bone?”

  “The one I have to pick with you.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. What am I supposed to have done?”

  Winky’s fur stood up and he hissed at her. Grandma pointed a finger at him, and he froze. Like, literally froze—as though he’d been turned to stone.

  “You ‘froze’ Winky!”

  “Who?”

  “Him. My cat.”

  “He’s okay. He was getting on my nerves.”

  “Reverse the spell.”

  “All in good time. First you and I need to have a talk about Trading Standards.”

  �
�Trading what?”

  “Standards. You know—that thing which young people no longer seem to care about.”

  “What about Trading Standards?”

  Grandma sighed, walked across the room, and took the seat opposite mine. “I had a visit from the charming people at Trading Standards this morning.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Someone had told them that Ever A Wool Moment is involved in some kind of scam.”

  “What kind of scam?”

  “They say that we’re using false advertising when it comes to Everlasting Wool.”

  Grandma had opened a wool shop in Washbridge. Her latest initiative was Everlasting Wool which was a kind of subscription service for yarn. Think Spotify or Netflix—then think wool—and you kind of get the idea. No? Don’t worry, no one else understands how it works either.

  “So are you going to deny it?” She pointed a crooked finger at me. At least, I think it was pointed at me—it was hard to tell.

  “Yes, I’m going to deny it. Why would I dob you in to the authorities?”

  “Dob me in? How old are you? Five?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Trading Standards.”

  “You sent them an email then.”

  “I haven’t spoken to them, and I haven’t sent them an email.”

  “An anonymous letter?”

  “Grandma, I promise. Whoever reported you to Trading Standards, it wasn’t me. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “That could be arranged.”

  “What?”

  “If I find out you’re lying—but then there are worse fates than death. I have a long list of them.”

  “I promise it wasn’t me. So what did you tell them?”

  “I’ve managed to fob them off for now, but they say they’ll be back to investigate further. Let’s see how much further they get when I turn them into cockroaches.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Slugs then. Makes no odds to me.”

  “If Everlasting Wool is above board, you won’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Are you suggesting it isn’t?”

  “No, but—”

  “But what?”

  “But I can’t figure out how it works.”

  “That’s why my business is a success, and yours—” She looked around the office. “What is your business anyway? Do you actually have any customers? The only people I ever see in here are Annabel and that thing.”

  Poor old Winky was still doing an impression of a statue.

  “I have plenty of clients, thank you very much. There was one here no more than an hour ago.”

  “What is it you’re working on for him?”

  “Well—err—I didn’t actually. I couldn’t—”

  “I rest my case.”

  With that she stood up and made her way to the door.

  “Wait!” I yelled after her.

  “What is it? Some of us have a real business to run.”

  “What about Winky?”

  She sighed, pointed a finger at him, and then left.

  Winky looked dazed. “What happened? It feels like I’m stoned.”

  Chapter 6

  “Are you okay?” Winky shouted from the window sill.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You keep smiling to yourself and grinning. It’s a little unnerving.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you for caring.”

  “I didn’t say I cared. It’s just that it’s off-putting. I need to keep my focus in case Bella gives me another chance.”

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Grandma. I knew it wasn’t nice, but a small part of me thought she’d got the comeuppance she deserved. Everyone in Candlefield banged on about how important it was not to allow humans to know about sups, and yet there she was flaunting her magic like she just didn’t care. Trading Standards—so funny. I couldn’t help but wonder who it was who reported her. And why I hadn’t thought of it first.

  The door opened, and Mrs V walked in. Her happy demeanour hadn’t lasted long.

  “You have to do something about that noise, Jill. I can’t concentrate. I’ve dropped three stitches already this morning.”

  I’d been hearing the banging for some time, but with the door to the outer office closed, it had been muffled. It sounded much louder now.

  “What is it?” I started towards the door.

  “It’s those people from next door. They’re moving in.”

  Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole was a firm of solicitors based in the next building. Their business was apparently flourishing and they wanted to expand. Gordon Armitage had tried to persuade me to vacate my office, so they could move in. There was no way I’d ever give up Dad’s old office, so I’d refused. He wasn’t best pleased. The other residents of my building had been more accommodating, and had accepted a payment in return for moving out. It appeared that Armitage was now in the process of moving in.

  I could barely squeeze out of the door. The landing and stairways were blocked with the removal men who were delivering dozens of desks to their new premises.

  “I don’t think my asking Gordon Armitage to quieten things down will help. Knowing him, he’ll probably ask the removal men to make even more noise. Hopefully, it shouldn’t go on for too long.”

  Mrs V harrumphed. “They’d better be done by tomorrow. I don’t want my Donald to get caught up in it.”

  “He’s still taking you out for lunch then?”

  “Of course. I’m quite excited.”

  It was nice to see Mrs V so thrilled about her date. At least one of us still had what it takes.

  “Jill!” Gordon Armitage called from the doorway. “Sorry about all of this noise. I do hope it’s not disturbing you too much.”

  He didn’t look sorry. Not even the tiniest bit.

  “How much longer is it going to take?”

  “Hard to say. There are an awful lot of people to move, and we still won’t have enough room for everyone. Are you absolutely sure I can’t persuade you to look for pastures new?” He flashed me that smile of his which made me want to beat him around the head with a pogo stick. “I could probably improve a little on my last offer.”

  The man was a creep with a capital ‘C’. He’d already tried to have the landlord throw me out, and now he was back to bribery. Well he knew what he could do with his money.

  “I’m staying put. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to close the door so we can hear ourselves think.” I edged him out, and then slammed the door in his face.

  “Call me if you change your mind!” He shouted through the glass. There were so many spells I wanted to use on that man, but I wouldn’t sink to Grandma’s level—not yet, anyway.

  ***

  Against my advice, Kathy had taken a part-time job working for Grandma at Ever A Wool Moment. She would often call around at my office during her lunch break—just for a chinwag, according to her. To scrounge a free coffee and custard creams more like.

  “What on earth is going on out there?” she said.

  “It’s Armitage. They’re moving in.”

  “The solicitors? I thought you told him to sling his hook?”

  “I did, but the other occupants of this building took his money and moved out. I’m the only one holding out.”

  “I bet he loves you.”

  “Grandma was around here earlier.” I smiled. “She wasn’t happy.”

  “About Trading Standards?”

  “She thinks I reported her.”

  “Why would she think that?”

  I shrugged. “Me and her just don’t seem to have hit it off.” I could hardly tell Kathy about my suspicions that Everlasting Wool owed much to magic.

  “I have news!” Kathy grinned ear to ear.

  “Are you pregnant again?”

  “No! Why would you say that?”

  “No reason. I just thought maybe it was time for you to knock another one out.”

  “Knock another one—? No wonder you can�
��t get yourself a man. Are you this romantic when you’re out on a date?”

  “I can do romantic.”

  Kathy shook her head. “Anyway, my news. I’ve got a promotion.”

  “Already? You’ve only been there five minutes.”

  “I know. Your grandmother obviously rates me highly.”

  “I’d settle for her not hating me. What’s the promotion?”

  “She’s introducing another new line, and she wants me to head up the sales for it.”

  “What kind of line?”

  “One-Size Knitting Needles.”

  “How’s that work exactly? I thought they came in different diameters?”

  “That’s the great thing about these. They can be whatever size you want them to be. You just touch the needles to the pattern you’re going to be using, and they adjust to the right size.”

  “Hang on. That doesn’t sound possible.”

  “I know. It’s like magic. According to your grandmother, it’s a revolutionary new design which she came up with, and has patented. No one else can make them.”

  Unbelievable. How much more blatant could she be?

  “So what does your new job entail?”

  “I’m not sure exactly, but I get a ten per cent pay rise, so that’s good. I really think you’ve misjudged your grandmother. She has a warm, generous side.”

  I laughed. “You keep thinking that.” Right up to the point where she turns you into a cockroach.

  My phone rang.

  “It’s Maxwell,” I mouthed to Kathy.

  She gave me a knowing smile.

  “Hi, Jack,” I said in my sweetest voice.

  My good humour didn’t last for long.

  “Hold on, Jack, that’s hardly fair.”

  I could tell Kathy was wondering what was wrong.

  “I didn’t mention it because I hadn’t seen him then. I told him—”

  The line was dead.

  “What happened?” Kathy said.

  “Jack Maxwell happened. The man is a complete asshat.”

  “Hang on. I thought you and he had made up.”

  “So did I, but it looks like we were wrong, apparently.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I had a visit this morning from a young guy named Steve Lister. He’s the boyfriend of the woman who’s been kidnapped.”