Witch Is When I Said Goodbye (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 10)
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Witch Is When
I Said Goodbye
Published by Implode Publishing Ltd
© Implode Publishing Ltd 2016
The right of Adele Abbott to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 1
After Jack Maxwell’s transfer had been cancelled, I thought he and I had finally made a real connection, and that our next date would be something special—a kind of new beginning. The kind of date where the sky is blue, birds are singing and cute little bunny rabbits hop happily around.
The reality was more: rain clouds, vultures overhead and a boiled rabbit.
The evening had been overshadowed by his suspension, and although he made the effort, I could see it was playing heavily on his mind. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t raise the subject because I knew he didn’t want to talk about it, but in the end I had to say something.
“So, what’s happening with the internal investigation?” Oh boy, I made it sound like an endoscopy.
“Internal Affairs have interviewed me.” He sighed. “But I haven’t heard anything back from them yet.”
“Come on, Jack. That’s ridiculous. This should’ve been cleared up in a matter of days. Why is it dragging on like this?”
“You don’t understand how the system works. The cogs turn very slowly.”
“What are you doing to speed things along? You can’t just lie back and let them treat you like this.” Again, with the endoscopy.
“They have procedures to follow.”
“Why are you being so reasonable?”
“Getting angry won’t do any good.”
It seemed to work for me.
“Why won’t you at least allow me to help?”
“No! I’ve told you. You need to stay out of this.”
The man was exasperating. Why couldn’t he be more reasonable? Like—err—well, like me, for example.
We cut the evening short. When he dropped me back at my place, I didn’t invite him in; neither of us was in the right frame of mind. He was angry with me for trying to stick my oar in, and I was angry with him for not being angry enough.
“I’ll call you,” he said, as I climbed out of his car.
I thought about apologising, but then I thought about custard creams instead.
“Yeah. Okay. See you.”
And then he drove off. Another in a long line of successful dates. Would I ever learn to keep my big mouth shut? Answers on a postcard to: Not a chance, c/o never going to happen.
***
The next morning, I was still in a foul mood. So much for fluffy bunnies and our ‘new start’. It was all Winky’s fault.
Why? I don’t know why, but I had to blame someone, and you didn’t think it was going to be me, did you?
If I’d drawn up a list of three people I didn’t want to bump into that morning, it would have been: TDO, Grandma, and—too late! There he was.
“Good morning, Jill,” Mr Ivers said.
“Morning.” I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘good’.
If he said the word ‘movie’ in the next thirty seconds, I would be forced to end him—I’d do it humanely, obviously. I’m not totally without compassion.
“What do you think to her?” he gushed.
I wasn’t in the mood for cryptic puzzles. ‘Her’ could have been anything from some movie ‘goddess’ I’d never heard of, right through to his pet terrapin.
“You’re going to have to give me more than that. Who’s ‘her’?”
“My new car of course!”
“Where is it?” There was no bubble car or three-wheeler anywhere to be seen.
“There!”
I still couldn’t see it. Unless it was parked behind the red, open-top sports car. A Diamond, if I wasn’t mistaken—one of my favourite cars. I couldn’t have cared less about the Iversmobile, but I did want a closer look at this beauty.
“So, what do you think?” Mr Ivers had followed me.
“Where is it?”
“There! Right in front of you!”
“This?”
“Yes.”
“Is yours?”
“Yes.”
“The Diamond?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hire it?” I knew there were companies which specialised in hiring out top-end cars like this for the day. I’d actually considered hiring a Diamond myself, but it would have cost me a bag full of gold and the promise of my first-born.
“No. I bought it.”
I was missing something here. What was it that Mr Ivers did for a living? I had no idea; I’d never cared enough to ask. He’d never struck me as a drug dealer or city trader, so how else could he have afforded it?
“Did you win the lottery?”
“Never do it. I don’t believe in gambling.”
“Come into an inheritance?”
“Nothing like that. I got a great deal on this little beauty. It was a real steal.”
“You stole it?”
“No, of course not.” He laughed. “All the paperwork is in order. Checked and double-checked. It’s all a question of having the right contacts. I bought it from another film buff, who I met through my column in The Bugle. When he told me how much he wanted, I snatched his hand off.”
I ran my fingers along the smooth lines of the bonnet. I never thought I’d say this, but I was actually a little jealous of Mr Ivers. I could just picture myself behind the wheel of a Diamond. Being a witch had its perks, but how come I couldn’t magic myself a car like this? What better, selfless use of magic could there be?
“Have you taken her for a spin, yet?”
“Not yet. It was only delivered late last night. I thought I might put her through her paces this evening. You can join me, if you like?”
What a quandary!
Pro: I get to ride in the most beautiful car in the world.
Con: Mr Ivers.
Pro: Maybe I’d get to take the wheel for a while.
Con: Mr Ivers.
It was a difficult decision, and all hinged on whether or not I’d get to have a turn at the wheel. To do that, I’d have to use all my womanly wiles, and flirt with Mr Ivers. But that would be totally unethical as I had no real interest in the man at all.
“I’d love to join you.”
What? Judge me all you like.
“Great! We can drive to the coast, and along the coast road if the weather’s still fine.”
“Sounds great.”
***
“There’s somethin
g going on with that cat, again,” Mrs V said when I walked into the office.
“What’s he up to now?”
“I don’t know, but there’s an awful lot of meowing coming from your office.”
By now, you might have thought that nothing Winky could do would surprise me, but somehow that little bundle of furry joy still managed it.
He was perched on the windowsill—holding his two little flags. Facing him were eight other cats. Eight! They were watching him so intently they barely registered my arrival. Winky was something of a master when it came to semaphore. He’d originally used it to communicate with Bella, his girlfriend, the feline supermodel. From there, they’d progressed to sending messages via remote control helicopter, and then via smartphones. But Winky still had a soft spot for his little flags, and if I’m honest, so did I. It was such an unusual, and yet endearing conduit for romance.
But why had he chosen to bring the flags out again, and more importantly, why were there so many other cats in the office?
“Do you mind?” He shot me a one-eyed glare. “You’re interrupting my lesson.”
“I’m doing what?”
“Lesson? Interrupting it? What’s not to understand?”
“What kind of lesson?”
He sighed—obviously exasperated. “I’ll give you a clue.” He waved his flags around. “Care to take a wild guess?”
“You’re giving semaphore lessons?”
“Once again, you demonstrate why you are a member of the private investigator elite.” He turned back to the class. “Take five, guys, while I give my human a clue. It seems she’s all out of them.”
The other cats began to practise their semaphore while Winky came over to talk to me.
“Couldn’t you have waited outside until the lesson had ended?”
“No, I couldn’t. In case you hadn’t noticed, this is my office. And anyway, I’m surprised there’s a demand for semaphore lessons.”
“I might have had something to do with that.”
“I should have known.”
“It all started with a post I made on FelineSocial a few days ago. I just happened to mention how Bella and I first got together. I only did it as a sort of feline-interest story, but after it appeared, I was contacted by lots of cats who are in the same position as I was. They have a love interest close by, but don’t have access to either a remote control helicopter or a smartphone. Semaphore offers them the ideal solution.”
“But if they don’t have a smartphone, how did they even see your post on FelineSocial?”
“That’s a very astute question. We’ll make a P.I. of you yet. Most of them are able to access one of their human’s smartphones, tablets or computers for a few minutes here and there. But not long enough or often enough to sustain a meaningful relationship. Once they’ve completed this course, they’ll be able to use semaphore whenever they like.”
“Where on earth did they all get their flags from?”
He grinned.
I should have known. “You’re selling flags too?”
“Of course. I couldn’t let a golden opportunity like that pass me by.”
“And robbing them blind, no doubt.”
“Shush!! He glanced around to make sure the other cats weren’t listening, but they were too busy practising. “If they buy the flags at the same time as they book the lesson, I give them a twenty-five per cent discount. I can’t be more generous than that.”
“Twenty-five per cent discount on how much?”
“Twenty pounds.”
“Twenty pounds for a couple of flags which you could get for fifty-pence at the seaside?”
“Thirty.”
“Thirty what?”
“Two of these flags cost thirty pence at the seaside. Where do you think I got them from?”
“That’s an outrageous mark-up.”
“I don’t see anyone complaining. Anyway, you’re missing the point. They’re not paying for the flags; they’re paying for a new way to communicate with their loved ones.”
“And how much do you charge for the lessons?”
“Sixty pounds.”
“Sixty?” I was clearly in the wrong business. “Where do they get the money from?”
“We cats have our methods.”
Their poor owners were no doubt going to find some strange charges on their next credit card bills.
“When will you be done in here?”
“We’re almost done for today, but this is only the first of many classes. There’s a waiting list.”
“What about my business? What am I supposed to tell my clients?”
“I can teach your clients semaphore too, if you like. I’ll even give them a discount.”
“I meant, how can I bring clients into the office when you and your friends here are busy waving flags around?”
“If and when you ever get a client, we can worry about that then. But, I won’t hold my breath.”
“If you’re going to use my office, I think that I should get a cut of the money you’re making.”
“Okay. I can live with that. And besides, I did promise these guys that they’d get complimentary food and drink included in the course. So, I’ll need you to buy more milk and salmon.”
“Do what?”
“Possibly a little tuna as an alternative?”
“Hold on, I didn’t say anything about buying extra food and drink for your students.”
“I’ll be prepared to give you a generous share of the takings.”
“Fifty/fifty.”
“Eighty/twenty.”
“Sixty/forty.”
“Seventy/thirty.”
“Sixty-five/thirty-five.”
“Okay, but you’d better hurry up with the milk because this is thirsty work. Full cream, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
***
I had such mixed emotions. On the one hand, I was about to go for a drive in my all-time favourite car, the Diamond. On the other hand—
“Evening, Jill. Are you ready for a spin in this old girl?”
Mr Ivers was wearing plus-fours, which did nothing for him. He didn’t have the legs for them. I’d gone for a sixties-style outfit. With my hair in a ponytail, and sunglasses, I had more than a touch of the Hepburn going on. I oozed class and sophistication. As always.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to the drive.” If not the company.
“Off we go!” he whooped. “We’ll take the motorway to the coast, and then we’ll take the coastal roads. The sea breeze will be great with the top down.”
“Sounds fantastic.”
It really did, but I should have known it was too good to be true.
Why were we going so slowly? The speedometer had barely moved. Perhaps he was just being overly cautious as this was his first time out in the Diamond. Once we were on the motorway, I felt sure he would open her up.
But he didn’t. We were still moving at a snail’s pace.
“What’s wrong? Are you stuck in first gear?”
“I don’t know. I’m in top gear, and I’ve got my foot to the floor. I think there must be something wrong with her.”
He pulled off the motorway onto an A-road. Moments later, a moped overtook us. It was so embarrassing.
“There’s obviously something wrong, Mr Ivers. Do you have roadside assistance?”
“Yes, I’ve been a member for years.”
“You’d better pull into that layby and give them a call.”
We had to wait almost two hours for roadside assistance to arrive. Still, it wasn’t all bad. Mr Ivers passed the time by providing me with a detailed run-down of all the movies he’d seen that month. Yawn!
By the time the mechanic arrived, I was practically comatose.
“Hello there, you two.” The mechanic had a smudge of oil on his nose, and two missing front teeth. “Beautiful motor. What seems to be the problem?”
“I’ve no idea.” Mr Ivers shrugged. “I’ve only just bought her. This
is the first time I’ve taken her for a spin.”
“Okay. Pop the bonnet and I’ll take a look.”
The man disappeared under the bonnet, but only for a few seconds. When he stood up again, he had a puzzled look on his face. I had a horrible feeling this wasn’t going to be good news.
“You say you’ve only recently acquired the car?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pay much for it?”
“No, it was a steal. A real bargain.”
“That would explain it.”
“What’s wrong?” I interrupted.
“It’s the engine.”
“Has it blown?”
“No, it’s still working fine.”
“Then why are we going so slowly?”
“It’s not the right one.”
This man was beginning to annoy me. “Right one for what?”
“This car. I normally see these engines under the bonnets of much smaller cars.”
“How small?”
“Bubble car small.”
Oh bum!
I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life. As we crawled back home, we were overtaken by a couple on a tandem. It was almost midnight by the time we got back to the flat.
“Sorry about tonight, Jill.” Mr Ivers helped me out of the car. “I never thought to look at the engine.”
Why would he? It was such an inconsequential part of the car.
I somehow forced a smile. It was either that or strangle him.
“Maybe we can try again when I can afford to buy the correct engine.”
“Yeah, maybe.” There was more chance of me being signed to Formula One than taking another ride with Mr Ivers.
Chapter 2
The next morning, I was still having flashbacks about the previous evening’s events. The only saving grace was that no one I knew had witnessed my humiliation. If Kathy ever found out, I’d never hear the end of it.
Winky was on my computer—yet again! He was laughing hysterically at something.
“Have you ever thought of getting your own YouTube channel?” he said when he’d eventually managed to compose himself.
“What are you talking about?”
“You really should set one up. If you monetise it, you’ll probably make more money than you do with this P.I. gig.”