Witch Is Why A Pin Dropped (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 20)

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Witch Is Why A Pin Dropped (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 20) Page 13

by Adele Abbott


  “How could I forget? And what about that chocolate fountain?”

  Chapter 18

  While I was in Candlefield, I decided to pay a visit to the Museum of Witchcraft, which was situated on the spot where Magna Mondale’s house had once stood. The original basement was still beneath the museum, and it was there that the ‘sealed’ room was located. Many witches had tried to enter it, but I’d been the one who had finally managed to get inside. That’s where I’d found Magna Mondale’s spell book, which had played a major part in advancing my magic skills. I thought I’d seen the last of that room, but according to Imelda Barrowtop’s journal, Magna had left a message in there. A message intended for whoever had eventually broken the seal to the room. A message intended for me.

  I wasn’t sure if the young woman on reception was actually awake.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry.” She jumped. “I was day dreaming. Just a minute. I know you. You’re Jill Gooder.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What an honour.” She stood up, and shook my hand. “I’m a big fan.”

  “Thank you.” I found this kind of attention incredibly embarrassing. “I wondered if I could take a look in the basement? In the sealed room?”

  “You know it’s been sealed again, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I did hear about that, but this is rather important.”

  “No one is allowed in there, but I’m sure they’ll make an exception for you. Can you just hold on a moment while I check with someone?”

  “Of course.”

  She picked up the phone and punched three numbers.

  “Ms Fish? It’s Lottie. Yes, I know you said you weren’t to be disturbed, but I have someone here who wants to go into the sealed room. Yes, I know that no one is allowed in there, but it’s Jill Gooder. Yes, I’m sure it’s her. Right. Okay, thanks.” Lottie replaced the receiver, and turned to me. “Ms Fish is coming down to see you.”

  “Thanks.” I’d met Coral Fish on my previous visits to the museum.

  “While you wait, would you mind signing this?” Lottie took out a small notepad from her bag.

  “Of course.” I scribbled my name onto the blank page.

  “My mum won’t believe it when I tell her that I’ve met you.”

  “Jill, how lovely to see you, again.” Coral Fish appeared through a door to my right. “Lottie tells me you want to enter the sealed room. May I ask why?”

  “I’m sorry but I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Not to worry. You’re more than welcome to look inside. It has been sealed again, but I don’t imagine that will prove a problem for you.” She smiled. “I would just ask that you seal it again afterwards.”

  “Of course.”

  Coral led the way down to the basement. “We had this put up in your honour.” She pointed to a small plaque on the wall next to the door. It read: This room was sealed by Magna Mondale, and remained sealed until it was opened by Jill Gooder—the most powerful witch that Candlefield has ever known.

  “That’s very flattering, but I’m not sure it’s true.”

  “Would you like me to stay with you, or would you prefer to be left alone?”

  “I’d like to do this by myself, if I may?”

  “Of course.”

  Unsealing the door was a trivial matter. Inside, the room was just as spartan as I remembered it. Where was the message? I hadn’t noticed anything the last time I’d been in there, but then I hadn’t been looking for it. I’d been much more interested in Magna’s book of spells.

  The room was dark except for the light that shone through the open door, so I took out my phone, and activated the torch app. The only furniture in the room was the table on which Magna’s book had rested for so many years. That was the obvious starting point, so I studied every square inch of it. I checked the underside and the legs, but there was no sign of a message of any kind. That left only the floor, walls and ceiling. I started in one corner of the room, and shone the torch at the ceiling, and then the wall from top to bottom. There were a few scratches and chips, but nothing that resembled a message. It was a tedious process, but I made my way slowly around the walls. Next, I checked every square inch of the floor. When I’d finished, my back was killing me, and still I’d found nothing. It seemed I wasn’t destined to read Magna’s message.

  By the time I headed for the door, I was tired and covered in dust. What a complete waste of time that had been.

  And then I saw it.

  On the back of the door, right at the very top, someone had carved words into the wood. The message was very small, but I managed to read it: Three chances, but no more. Find the first.

  Thanks for that, Magna. What was I supposed to make of that cryptic nonsense? If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought that someone was having a laugh at my expense.

  ***

  I magicked myself back to Washbridge.

  “What happened to you?” Grandma was seated in the outer office.

  “What do you mean?” Then I realised I was still covered in dust. “I—err—had to go up into the attic for something.”

  “You might at least have changed your clothes before you came into work. What kind of impression do you think that will give your clients?”

  “Was there something you wanted, Grandma?”

  “It’s a private matter.”

  Mrs V and Jules both had their heads down, as though they were busy with their work. I knew better.

  “Come through to my office, then.”

  As soon as Winky saw Grandma, he dashed for cover under the sofa.

  “Why do you have two receptionists?”

  “Mrs V doesn’t like to stay at home.”

  “It’s time that old woman retired.”

  Pot? Kettle?

  “I’m glad you came to your senses and gave Kathy and Chloe a pay rise.”

  “Maybe you should follow suit. You could start by paying Annabel a wage.”

  “We’ve had this conversation before. Mrs V works for free voluntarily.”

  “So says you.”

  “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

  “I need you to take my photograph.”

  “Why come all the way up here to ask me? You could have got Kathy to take it. What do you want a photograph for, anyway?”

  “It’s a matter of the highest confidentiality, which is why I’d prefer you to take it.”

  “Because of my reputation for honesty and discretion?”

  “No. It’s because I have more to blackmail you with.”

  “What do you need a photo for? You must have dozens.”

  “I need a current one, and before I tell you why, I need to swear you to secrecy. You can’t tell anyone.”

  “I promise I won’t say a word.”

  “Do you swear on your future blueberry muffins?”

  “Yes, okay. What’s this all about?”

  She handed me a newspaper cutting.

  “You’re going to audition for this?”

  “Why not? I’d be ideal.”

  “You do realise that this is a professional production being made by a big studio? And, it’s an open audition, so there’ll be a lot of competition.”

  “That may be so, but if you take the trouble to read it thoroughly, you’ll see they want to cast a newcomer in the part. They’re looking for someone to play the matriarchal head of a family of witches. That’s me to a T.”

  “Have you ever done any acting?”

  “I’ll have you know I used to be the star of CWADS.”

  “What’s CWADS?”

  “Candlefield Witches Amateur Dramatic Society.”

  “I’ve never heard you mention that before. When was it?”

  “A few centuries ago, but what does that have to do with the price of fish? Are you going to take this photo or not?”

  “Okay. Stand still, then.”

  “Make sure you get my best side.”

  Did she have one?

/>   What? Harsh, but true.

  “I assume it’s a horror movie?” Winky slid out from under the sofa, as soon as Grandma had left.

  “That’s rather unkind.”

  “It’s no worse than you were thinking. Can you imagine her face on the big screen? It would be enough to put you off your popcorn.”

  “Now you’re just being cruel.”

  ***

  Hilary (Hills) Portman had been served a restraining order to stop her going anywhere near Lee Sparks. That meant she was definitely someone I needed to speak to.

  The woman who answered the door was fifty if she was a day—much older than I’d expected.

  “Hilary?”

  “Nah. I’m Martha. Hills is my daughter. Are you that private whatsit that rang?”

  “Yes. Jill Gooder.”

  “You’d better come in.” She looked upstairs, and shouted, “Hills! That private thingy is here.”

  “Tell her to come up!” A deep voice came from somewhere above.

  “It’s the second door on the left. I was just about to have a pickled egg. Do you want one?”

  “Not for me, thanks. Second on the left, you said?”

  “Yeah. Don’t go in the first door whatever you do.”

  I didn’t like to ask why.

  The multi-coloured sign on the door read: Sparksville. I knocked.

  “Come in.”

  “Hilary?”

  “Hills. Everyone calls me Hills.”

  “Okay.” I scanned the room; it was a shrine to Lee Sparks. Every inch of wall was covered with pictures of him. Some of them had been cut from newspapers or magazines—others had obviously been taken by Hills. There were at least a dozen selfies of her standing next to Lee Sparks. In a few of them, he was smiling, but in others he looked uncomfortable or annoyed. “You were a big fan, then?”

  “His biggest fan. I worshipped him. I was a fan even before he moved to Radio Wash. I couldn’t believe my luck when I found out they’d signed him. He loved me, you know.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “He didn’t need to. It was obvious.”

  “Didn’t he have a girlfriend?”

  “That was just for show. Lee didn’t care about her.”

  “If Lee loved you, why did he take out a restraining order?”

  “That was his so-called girlfriend’s doing. She talked him into it. And do you know why she did it?”

  “Why?”

  “Because she knew how he felt about me.”

  “Right. How long has the restraining order been in place?”

  “A couple of months.”

  “So you won’t have seen him for a while.”

  “Officially, no.” She grinned.

  “Unofficially?”

  “I wasn’t going to let a little thing like that come between me and Lee, so I used to go to the radio station in disguise.”

  “What kind of disguise?”

  “I used lots of them. One time I borrowed my brother’s overalls, and pretended to be checking the drains outside the radio station. Another time, I nicked all my mum’s brollies—she’s got tons of them. I set up a market stall outside the radio station.”

  “Wasn’t anyone suspicious?”

  “Nah, I even sold a couple of brollies.”

  “His death must have come as a devastating blow?”

  “I can’t believe he’s gone. I still tune into the drivetime show every day. I keep thinking I’ll hear his voice.”

  “Do you remember where you were on the day he died?”

  “I was down the canal.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I like to watch the ducks. They make me laugh. Have you seen the way they stick their bums up in the air?”

  “Err—yeah.”

  “Hilarious, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so. Do you often go down to the canal to watch the ducks?”

  “Not often. Only three or four times a week.”

  “Right. And how long were you there that day?”

  “I’m usually there all day, unless it rains. Or snows. Or if it’s foggy.”

  “Okay. Well, thank you for your help, Hills. Is it okay if I come back if I think of any more questions?”

  “Sure. If I’m not here, you know where to find me.”

  “Down the canal?”

  Hills Portman was obviously a few feathers short of a duck’s bum, but she didn’t strike me as a murderer.

  “You done?” Hills’ mother was at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want a pickled egg?”

  Chapter 19

  The next morning, Jack was in the kitchen, making a fry-up for the three of us. Yvonne and I were in the lounge.

  “I’m sorry you have to leave so soon, Yvonne.” Those were words I had never expected to be saying.

  “Me too, but Malcolm doesn’t cope well on his own.” She grinned. “Typical man.”

  “You must visit again, soon.”

  “I will. We both will next time. And you and Jack should come and stay with us.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Jack’s mother had only been with us for a couple of days, but in that time, we’d formed a close bond. We did after all have something in common; we both had a secret that we could never reveal to Jack.

  “Breakfast is served,” Jack called from the kitchen.

  “That looks good,” Yvonne said, as we took our seats around the table. “I bet it makes a nice change to have Jack make the meals, doesn’t it, Jill?”

  “Definitely. I didn’t think he knew where the pans were kept.”

  Jack shot me a look of disbelief.

  “These sausages are delicious.” Yvonne nodded her approval.

  “I should eat them quickly before Jack snatches them off your plate, and throws them away.”

  “Ignore her, Mum. If it was up to Jill, we’d still be eating them after they’d turned green.”

  Thirty minutes later, it was time for Yvonne to leave. Jack was going to run her to the station, on his way to work.

  “Give me a hug.” Yvonne threw her arms around me.

  “See you soon.”

  She followed Jack out to the car, and I waved them off from the driveway. When I got back into the house, my phone rang. It was Kathy.

  “Is she still there?”

  “Jack’s mother? No, he’s just taken her to the station.”

  “So? Does she hate you?”

  “No. She’s an absolute darling.”

  “So, once again your paranoia was unfounded?”

  “Seems that way.”

  “You had her down as a real witch.”

  “Finder.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Never mind. I was one hundred per cent wrong about her. Yvonne is lovely. She can visit us any time she wants. Is that why you rang? To check if Jack and I were still together?”

  “Of course not. I knew it was all in your imagination. I called because I wanted to ask if you knew that Washbridge House is supposed to be haunted?”

  “I can’t say I’d heard.”

  “Some of the people who work there mentioned it to Pete, and like a fool he told me in front of Lizzie. You know what she’s like when it comes to ghosts. Now she’s pestering me to take her there.”

  “Do they allow members of the public in?”

  “According to Pete, they run tours of the house at certain times of the year.”

  “Why not take her then? It can’t do any harm.”

  “Well, here’s the thing. She said she’d like to go on the tour with you and Mad. She reckons that you two believe in ghosts, but I don’t. What do you think? Would you and Mad be up for it?”

  “I guess so, but I’ll have to check to see when Mad is free. I’ll let you know.”

  “That’s great. And by way of a thank you, I thought I could treat you to lunch.”

  “You treat me?”

  “You don’t ha
ve to sound quite so shocked.”

  “But I am. When was the last time you bought lunch for me?”

  “Do you fancy it or not?”

  “Sure. I’d better say ‘yes’ before you change your mind. When?”

  “How about today? We could go to that new place near Bar Piranha. I think it’s called Chess.”

  “It’s not some sleazy male strip club, is it?”

  “Chess, Jill. Not Chest.”

  “Oh, sorry. Sure, why not?”

  “Great. How about we meet outside there at midday?”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  “Oh, Jill, there’s just one more thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Lolly Jolly will be joining us.”

  “What?” I screamed into the phone, but it was too late; she’d hung up.

  Kathy. Was. So. Dead.

  ***

  There were two women behind the desks in the outer office, but neither of them was Mrs V.

  “Jill, this is my sister,” Jules said.

  “Nice to meet you, err—?”

  “Lulu, but everyone calls me Lules.”

  Jules and Lules?

  “Are you two twins?”

  “No. Everyone thinks that, but I’m two years older,” Jules said.

  “You are very much alike.”

  “Lules still works at the black pudding factory where I used to work.”

  “Nice. Packing department?”

  “No. I’m in quality control.”

  “That must be a very responsible job?”

  “It’s pretty boring, actually. I’m hoping to get into modelling.”

  “Lules just won Miss Black Pudding 2017.” Jules was obviously proud of her younger sister.

  “Congratulations. You’re certainly pretty enough to be a model.”

  “Thanks.” Lules blushed. “The problem is, I don’t know how to get started.”

  “I might be able to help.”

  “Really? How?”

  “My next-door neighbour is a model, although she is looking to get out of the business. I could ask her if she has any tips.”

  “Would you? That would be great.”

  “Sure. I’ll pass on any info via Jules.”

  “Thanks, Jill. Jules told me what a great boss you are.”

  Winky was still acting very suspiciously. As soon as I walked into the office, he hid a piece of paper in the lining on the underside of the sofa. He must have thought I’d just rolled in on the stupid train because it was painfully obvious that he’d wanted me to catch him doing it. He was going to be very disappointed because I wasn’t falling for any of his tricks ever again.

 

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