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

by Adele Abbott

  “Do you think he did something to her?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose he might have tried it on with her, but she would have told him to do one. She was crazy in love with Steve.”

  “I don’t suppose you know any of Tom’s ex girlfriends do you?”

  “I could probably find you some phone numbers. He’s always leaving his phone under the bar.”

  “That would be great. Here.” I passed her my card. “Give me a call if you manage it.”

  Chapter 20

  My powers of persuasion, however good they might be, were never going to work on Holly Jones. If I turned up at her door again, she’d slam it in my face. And this time, she’d probably call the police. To her, I was the mad woman who believed our mothers had become acquainted since they died. I was the loony who saw ghosts. Persuasion was out, so I had to come up with another approach.

  I waited until it was dark and then sneaked around the back of her house. There was a large bush close to the patio doors, and from behind there, I could see Holly seated on the sofa. She appeared to be engrossed in something on TV. I had my fingers crossed that this would work. I’d been practising the ‘move’ spell which was actually above my grade—it was level four. It was one of the spells Grandma had used to see how far she could push me—something she did every now and then. I’d never tried to use it through glass before, but I was hopeful it would work. Even if it did, I was much further away from the objects than I’d been when I practised this spell before. Oh well. Here goes nothing.

  On my previous visit, I’d seen a photograph on the bookcase behind the sofa. I was fairly sure it was a photo of Holly’s mother. The woman was certainly in the right age range. I took a deep breath, cast the spell, and focused on the photo frame. It started to rise, so at least I knew I could use the spell through glass. If I lost control of the object it would drop to the floor, and most likely break. Slowly, I began to move the photo through the air until it was over the drinks cabinet, which was close to the sofa. Whatever Holly was watching, it must have been good because she didn’t take her eyes off the TV screen. When I was sure the photo was over the drinks cabinet I lowered it until it was maybe a half-inch above, and then let it drop.

  The noise made Holly jump. She looked around as though expecting to see someone standing behind her. She seemed to do a double-take before standing up, and walking over to the drinks cabinet. She stared at the photo, and then looked across at the bookcase. Confusion was etched on her face. After a few moments she put the photo back onto the bookcase, returned to the sofa, and continued her viewing. She must have somehow convinced herself she’d moved it.

  If at first you don’t succeed—bring out the big guns. Invisibility baby!

  I cast the spell, checked my reflection in the window to make sure it had worked, and then rang the doorbell. I wondered if my mother was watching me. She was probably busy smooching with Alberto somewhere.

  “Yes, I am watching you.” The voice came from behind me, and almost made me jump out of my skin. But, before I could turn around, the door opened and Holly appeared.

  We were face to face and only inches apart, but she couldn’t see me.

  “Hello?” She had the same confused look on her face as the locksmith had the first time I ever used this spell. “Anyone there?”

  She took a few steps forward out onto the driveway. I skirted around her and into the house. Let the fun begin.

  Holly mumbled something about kids being a pain in the backside, then closed the door and came back into the living room. I was standing directly behind the sofa where she resumed her TV viewing. She was watching some awful reality TV show—why did people watch that rubbish? I leaned forward and pressed the channel change button. The TV switched to a wildlife programme—much better. Holly obviously didn’t agree. She muttered something, and switched back to the reality show. Undeterred I changed channel again. She picked up the remote, gave it a good shake and changed back again. This wasn’t working, so I picked up the remote, and walked over to the TV. Holly’s eyes were wide, and her mouth was open, as she watched the remote control seemingly float across the room. That seemed to get her attention. She pulled her knees up to her chest, and looked around the room.

  “Who’s there? If this is meant to be a joke, it isn’t funny! Come out or I’ll call the police.”

  She didn’t look as though she was about to call the police—she looked too scared to move. I should have felt bad—yeah well—I was having too much fun. I walked over to the window, and closed the blinds, and then opened them again.

  Holly picked up her phone. Oh no! She was going to call the police. I had to get out of there. But before I could, she jumped off the sofa, ran to the door and stepped outside. What was I supposed to do now? Time was running out. Any second now, the invisibility would wear off. I was trapped in her house, and couldn’t leave through the door because she was right outside.

  Just then my phone rang. Bum! I managed to grab it on the first ring—hopefully Holly hadn’t heard it.

  “Hello?” I said in a whisper.

  “Is that Jill?”

  I heard those words in stereo: On my phone and through the door. It was Holly.

  “Jill, speaking.”

  “I can barely hear you. Can you speak up?”

  I was visible now. If she came back into the house, the game would be up. I had to keep her talking while I gave myself time to think. I made my way upstairs, and into the first bedroom I came to.

  “Is that better?” I said in my normal voice.

  “Yes, I can hear you now. You said I could ring you if—err—if I—err”

  “Have you seen your mother’s ghost?”

  “No, yes. I don’t know. Some strange things have been happening.”

  “What kind of strange things?”

  “The TV switched channel. Then the remote floated across the room. And the window blinds opened and closed.”

  “That’s probably your mother trying to get in touch with you.”

  “But there are no such things as ghosts.”

  “Then why did you call me?”

  “I—err—I don’t understand what’s happening.”

  “Look. I know you are finding this hard, but why not open your mind to the possibility? What harm can it do? If you’re right, and there are no such things as ghosts then you’ve lost nothing. But if you’re wrong, you get to see your mother again. Isn’t it worth a try?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay. Well give me another call if you change your mind.”

  “No! Wait! What would I have to do?”

  “If you’re ready to give it a try, I’ll come around there and talk you through it.”

  “When could you come?”

  “Right away. I’m quite close by.”

  “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

  “That’s good. You won’t regret it.”

  I heard the door handle. Oh no! I had to stop her.

  “Holly! Is there a florist near to you?”

  “A florist?” I heard her release the door handle. She was still outside. Phew!

  “It will help to smooth your mother’s transition if you welcome her with flowers.” Boy, I was pulling this stuff out of my backside.

  “There isn’t a florist for miles, and besides they’ll be closed by now. The supermarket sells flowers though. That’s only a couple of streets away.”

  “Ideal. Go around there now. Buy your mum’s favourite flowers. By the time you get back, I’ll be waiting at your door.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you shortly.”

  I watched her through the window. Once she was out of sight, I hurried downstairs, and out of the door. That was close.

  Holly arrived back fifteen minutes later with a bunch of roses in her hand.

  “Hi,” I greeted her.

  “This is all they had, I’m afraid.” She held out a sorry looking bunch of flowers.

  “Did your mum like roses?”

/>   “She preferred tulips, but they didn’t have any.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Shall we go in?”

  Holly looked nervous, so I led the way. “It’s okay, come through.”

  She followed me into the living room, her eyes darting back and forth.

  “Is she here now?” she said, her voice wavering.

  “She won’t be far away.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “You need to do two things. Call her name, and remove all trace of doubt or scepticism from your mind. Can you do that?”

  “I’ll try.”

  She looked at me for reassurance. I smiled, and nodded for her to start.

  “Maureen, Maureen!”

  “Hold on. Did you call your mother Maureen when she was alive?”

  “No. I called her Mum.”

  “Then that’s what you should call her now.”

  “Mum, Mum.”

  “Clear your mind of all doubt. You have to believe she is going to be with you again. Try again.”

  She closed her eyes. “Mum, Mum. Please show yourself to me.”

  She opened her eyes, and the expression on her face told me my work was done. I couldn’t see her mum’s ghost because she was attached to Holly, but I knew she’d appeared. Holly was beaming, and was already in conversation with her.

  She didn’t even see me sneak out of the house.

  “Well done, Jill.” My mother appeared next to me on the driveway. “Thanks very much for that.”

  “My absolute pleasure.”

  Jill Gooder—P.I. and ghost whisperer.

  ***

  The next morning, Armitage’s sign was still switched off. Score one for the Gooder. Mrs V was in a good mood, and was obviously bursting to tell me something.

  “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m so happy?”

  “Nah.”

  Her face dropped.

  “Only kidding. Of course I want to know.”

  “I’ve been offered a part-time role as a roving reporter for Wool TV. Don’t worry it won’t interfere much with my work here.”

  What a relief. I wouldn’t have wanted the production of scarves and socks to suffer.

  “What will you be doing exactly?”

  “I’ll be interviewing the movers and shakers in the yarn industry.”

  “Are there any? It seems such a sedate type of business.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. Yarn is a cut-throat business. Dog eat dog.”

  Who knew?

  “My first interview will be with your grandmother. She has caused quite a stir in the industry with her Everlasting Wool and One-Size Needles.”

  I bet she has, and there’d be even more of a stir if people knew the truth. “Make sure you grill her.”

  “Don’t worry, I will. Woodstein and Bernwood have nothing on me.”

  As I was talking with Mrs V, I heard voices on the landing outside the office. I cracked the door open just wide enough to get a glimpse of Gordon Armitage talking to a man dressed in overalls. Armitage must have spotted me because he halted mid-sentence, and led the man away down the stairs. Perhaps it was the latest attempt to repair the sign. Or maybe something more sinister. I was under no illusion that Armitage still wanted me out, and I wouldn’t have put it past him to be planning something underhanded.

  I gave it a few minutes, and then sneaked down the stairs. By the time I got outside, Armitage had disappeared. The other man was climbing into a cradle which was suspended from the top of our building. The cradle began to ascend, and I realised that he wasn’t there to repair the sign. He had a bucket of water, and was apparently cleaning the windows. Except that he wasn’t. Although the sign on the side of the cradle read ‘Windows Bright’, the man was doing no more than wave a chamois leather around. I was sure he was up to something, and he was headed to the window of my office. That’s when I spotted it. He had a camera.

  I made it up the stairs in record time, burst through the door, past a startled Mrs V, and into my office. The man’s head was just poking up above the bottom of the window. Winky was watching from his usual windowsill spot. If the man got a photo of Winky, Gordon Armitage would take it to the landlord. The terms of my lease didn’t allow animals in the office, so I had to do something, and I had to do it right now.

  I cast the ‘illusion’ spell just as the man’s head appeared above the window ledge. He took one glance at Winky, and then stepped back in horror. He only just managed to grab a hold of the cradle and stop himself falling to the floor. He still looked terrified as he pressed the lever to send it back down. Once it was on the ground, he jumped out and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him.

  “What was wrong with him?” Winky looked confused.

  “Your ugly face scared him off.”

  “Well that’s charming. I love you too.”

  What had actually happened was that the poor man had looked at Winky, and seen a lion growling at him.

  Up yours, Armitage!

  Chapter 21

  Where was the stupid thing? I had it with me when I came home last night, but what had I done with it? Don’t you hate it when you lose your phone? What? You never lose it? Well aren’t you the organised one then?

  It was in the flat somewhere. If I’d had a landline, I could have called it and listened for the ring, but who had landline phones at home these days? Then, as if to prove I could be even stupider than I thought was possible, I came up with a brain wave. I could ask Kathy to call me.

  Just one slight problem with that plan—I didn’t have a phone to call Kathy to ask her to call me. Oh bum! I needed a custard cream. Or maybe two. No more than three—that would be greedy. I popped open the Tupperware box, and lo and behold—

  “There you are!”

  My phone was snuggled up among the custard creams.

  I had a missed call from a number I didn’t recognise. There was no voice message, so I called the number.

  “Hello?” a female voice answered.

  “You called my number. This is Jill Gooder.”

  “Oh, hi. It’s Carrie from Bar Bravo.”

  “Hi.”

  “I said I’d call you if I managed to get the numbers off Tom’s phone. I’ve managed to get three if that helps?”

  “That’s great.”

  She sent me a text with the phone numbers of three women Tom had dated. I called each of them in turn.

  Fortunately for me, none of them was reluctant to talk. Just the opposite in fact. They didn’t have a good word to say about Tom between them. One of them, Caroline, obviously thought I was dating him, and warned me in no uncertain terms to get away from him. All three of them told very similar tales. Caroline had worked at Bar Bravo for a few months. Tom had been charming at first—quite the gentleman.

  “He has the gift of the gab,” she said. “He could charm the birds out of the trees—that’s what my mum used to say. But he’s a pathological liar. And a control freak. While I was doing what he wanted, everything was okay, but if I didn’t—”

  She hesitated, and for a moment I thought I’d lost the call.

  “Caroline?”

  “Sorry. I haven’t told anyone else about this.”

  “It’s okay. Take your time.”

  “He hit me.”

  The tears began to flow.

  “He hit me because I hadn’t told him I was going out with a friend. It was a girl friend, mind you. We only went for a quick drink after college. He went crazy. I thought—”

  She hesitated again.

  “I thought he was going to kill me.”

  “Did you report it to the police?”

  “No. I know I should have done, but I just wanted to put it behind me. I quit the job at Bar Bravo, and moved to another flat. He kept on calling me for a long time after I’d moved, but I never answered. I would have changed my number, but so many other people have it.”

  I thanked her for her time.

  The other two women, Debbie and Paula,
told remarkably similar stories. Tom had been the perfect gentleman—charming and funny. Right up until the point where he became aggressive, controlling and violent. Both of them had been struck by him on at least one occasion. Neither of them had reported the assault.

  It wasn’t difficult to conclude that Tom was bad news, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Amanda’s disappearance was connected to her being upset the previous night when she’d come back to the bar with him. He had now become my primary focus.

  I made another call to Carrie. She was able to give me Tom’s home address, and to confirm that Friday was his day off.

  ***

  It was my own fault. I’d become quite adept at avoiding Mr Ivers, but I’d completely forgotten about his makeover, and so I almost walked straight into him.

  “Morning, Jill.”

  “Oh—err—morning. I nearly didn’t recognise you.”

  “Your cousins did a great job.”

  I had to hand it to the twins; the transformation was remarkable.

  “How is the newspaper column going?”

  “Good.” He smiled. “Mostly.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Not with the column exactly. That practically writes itself. It’s just that—”

  I was intrigued now. Who’d have thought I’d ever use the word ‘intrigued’ in relation to Mr Ivers?

  “Well, I had hoped to pick up more fans.”

  “Aren’t many people reading the column?”

  “Oh, yeah. The Bugle is very pleased with the numbers and the feedback so far.”

  “So? I don’t understand.”

  “I thought I might have attracted more female readers. That’s why I got you to organise the makeover for me.”

  I smiled. So all along Mr Ivers’ master plan was to use the movie review column to attract groupies.

  “I take it that hasn’t happened?”

  “No. Almost all of the feedback has come from men—other movie buffs.”

  So, other sad sacks then. “That’s rather disappointing. Maybe that will change over time.”