by Adele Abbott
“There are still another four to audition.”
“I need some fresh air.”
“I don’t think you’re meant to leave the set.”
But it was too late. Grandma was already on her way back to reception.
Great!
Two hours later, and the last woman had just gone through for her screen test, but there was still no sign of Grandma. Where was she? Had she got lost?
I traced my way back to the studio entrance, and asked the woman on reception if she had seen Grandma.
“Does she have a really big wart on her nose?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“She went out a while ago.”
“Did you see which way she went?”
“She turned left out of the door.”
“Thanks.”
As soon as I got out onto the street, I could hear singing. Or at least, what passed for singing where Grandma was concerned. Fifty yards up the road from the studio was a pub called The Pickled Trout. In the bar, singing at the top of her voice, was my very own pickled trout.
“Grandma! What are you playing at?”
“Can you get her out of here?” the plump man behind the bar said. “She’s scaring away the other customers.”
“Sorry. I’ll see to it. Come on, Grandma.”
“Jilly, Jill, Jill.” She hiccupped. “Where’s the contract? Is it time to sign?”
“They’re about to announce the successful candidate. Come on, we need to get back.”
I somehow managed to guide her back to the studio just as the director returned to address us all.
“Thank you all once again for coming in today. I’ve seen so many wonderful performances, it’s a pity that there can only be one winner. It gives me great pleasure to announce—”
“Thank you.” Grandma suddenly stepped forward. “I am very honoured—”
I managed to pull her back.
“As I was saying,” the director continued. “It gives me great pleasure to announce that the part of Esmeralda goes to Anne Craymouse.”
Anne stepped forward, in floods of tears. Everyone else rushed to congratulate her. Everyone except Grandma.
“This is an outrage!” Grandma yelled. “That woman is no witch. I’ll show you what a real witch can do.”
I wasn’t sure which spell she was about to cast, and I didn’t want to hang around to find out, so I grabbed her by the arm and led her away.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Grandma fought me every step of the way back to the car. “Let me go. I’ll show him what a real witch can do.”
“Get in the car, Grandma.”
Once I’d got her in, I fastened her seat belt, jumped into the driver’s seat, and sped away. Fortunately, within a few minutes, she was fast asleep.
The good news was that I didn’t have to listen to her reciting her lines on the way back. The bad news was that I had to listen to her snoring instead.
The perfect end to a perfect day.
Chapter 25
We’d had a great weekend. On Saturday, Jack and I had taken a drive out into the countryside, and grabbed lunch at a lovely little pub situated at the top of a picturesque valley. On Sunday morning, Jack had pottered about in the garden while I supervised, and then I made Sunday lunch.
See! I can be domesticated when I put my mind to it.
By Monday morning, my batteries were well and truly recharged, and I felt ready for whatever the week might throw at me.
When I stepped into my office, Winky was on the phone again.
“Tomorrow, yeah. Don’t worry. No one else knows.” He glanced around, and spotted me. “Can’t talk now—someone has just come in. Okay, bye.”
“Morning, Winky.”
“Morning.”
“What’s with all the mysterious phone calls?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hmm? Maybe there really was something going on that he didn’t want anyone to know about.
“I have Kylie Jay to see you,” Mrs V was walking with a bit of a limp.
“Are you okay, Mrs V?”
“My corns are playing up again. Is it okay if I pop out to the chiropodist later?”
“Of course. Would you send Kylie in, please?”
Kylie Jay looked happier than the last time I’d seen her, but not much.
“I just wanted to come by and thank you for getting me out of prison. I’m not sure I could have taken much more.”
“How are you doing?”
“Okay, but I’m very worried about Mum.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Only for a few minutes. I still can’t believe she killed Lee. I blame myself. I should have dumped him ages ago, like Mum said. If I had, none of this would have happened. Lee would still be alive, and Mum would be free. What do you think will happen to her?”
“It doesn’t look good. She’s confessed to the murder, so it’s just a question of how long a sentence they hand down.”
“Is there anything I can do to help her?”
“You should get a chance to speak up for her before sentencing. I wasn’t sure you’d want to after she failed to come forward.”
“I don’t hold that against her—she was just scared. Mum hoped your investigation might uncover other suspects, and that would be enough to get me released. How did you work out that she’d done it?”
“It was a number of things. She had the motive because the man was hurting her child. She’d been at your flat that morning, so had access to the murder weapon. Your mum had the combination to the lock on the rear door at Radio Wash, so was able to gain access without being captured on CCTV. Everyone who heard Lee’s last words assumed he was addressing you when he said, ‘Jay’. But that wasn’t true because he used to call you ‘Little Jay’. Jenny Black told me that he always called the cleaners by their surnames, so when he said ‘Jay’, he was actually speaking to your mother.”
“The worst part about all of this is that I was going there to finish with him.”
“But didn’t you tell your mother you wouldn’t do that?”
“I hated it when Mum tried to run my life, so when she said I should finish with Lee, I instinctively told her to butt out and mind her own business. That’s why she took matters into her own hands. If I’d told her the truth—that I was going to dump him, she would probably have gone home.”
“You mustn’t blame yourself for any of this.”
“That’s easier said than done.” Kylie stood up. “By the way, you must let me have your bill.”
“That isn’t your responsibility. You weren’t my client.”
“Mum told me to ask for it. The payment will come out of her account.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
After Kylie had left, I reflected on the case. I’d found the murderer, and got an innocent person released from prison. And yet, I took no pleasure from it at all.
***
I was still thinking about Kylie and Doris Jay when Kathy rang.
“Whatever is wrong with your grandmother today?”
“How would I know? I haven’t seen her since Friday. Why? What’s she up to?”
“I wish I knew. She’s been grumbling to herself all morning. Something about an audition being fixed? And missing the chance for Hollywood stardom?”
“Has she been at the cocktails?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is that why you called?”
“No. I wanted to remind you about taking Lizzie to Washbridge House. Are you still up for that?”
“Yeah. I just need to sort out a date with Mad.”
“Okay. Talking of ghosts, Mikey went to the funfair again on Saturday.”
“I’m surprised he managed to talk you into going back there.”
“He didn’t. Lizzie and I went shopping. One of Mikey’s friends from school was going to the funfair, and the boy’s parents said Mikey could go with them.”
&n
bsp; “Did he have fun?”
“I think so, but the thing he was most looking forward to, turned out to be a bit of a damp squib. The main reason he wanted to go back there was to have another ride on the ghost train. Mikey reckons there were hardly any ghosts in there this time, and those that were there, weren’t very realistic.”
***
I was finding it hard to concentrate on my paperclip sorting because Winky was snoring so loudly. I’d shouted at him a few times, but he simply rolled over and started again. I was just about to nudge him when I remembered the slip of paper that I’d seen him hide in the lining of the sofa. What harm could it do to take a look?
It appeared to be some kind of hand-drawn map of Washbridge city centre. A dotted line had been marked along the roads, and where that line terminated was a big cross with the word ‘treasure’ written underneath it.
I checked to see if Winky had stirred, but he was still fast asleep. If I’d had any sense, I would have put the note back, and forgotten all about it. But as we all know, common sense is not my strong suit, so I decided to check it out. Obviously, I didn’t actually believe there was any treasure—I’m not totally stupid—I just needed to stretch my legs.
What do you mean the self-delusion continues?
With treasure map in hand, I sneaked out of my office—being careful not to wake Winky.
“I’m going out for a while, Jules. If anyone asks where I am, you don’t know.”
“But I don’t know.”
“Even better.”
Although I knew I would ultimately be disappointed, it was all rather exciting. It reminded me of the treasure hunts that my adoptive parents had sometimes organised for me and Kathy, in the school holidays. She always seemed to win—knowing her, she’d probably cheated.
I was getting close. According to the map, the treasure should be just around the next corner. This was an area of Washbridge that I rarely visited, so I had no idea what to expect.
“What the—?”
Just then my phone rang.
“Congratulations!” Winky said. “You have found the treasure.”
I couldn’t speak; I was too busy staring, open-mouthed, at the shop in front of me. The one with the huge banner that read: ‘Grand Opening Today’, draped above the door.
The shop was called ‘The Salmon Emporium’.
“Are you still there?” Winky’s voice brought me back down to earth.
“You set me up.”
“Of course I did, but you have to admit this was a cool plan. Anyway, while you’re there, I believe they’re running an opening offer on red. You might as well get stocked up.”
“I understand how you tricked me into taking the map, but how did you know the precise moment when I arrived here?”
“That would be the tracking device in your phone.”
Once again, that cat had done me up like a kipper.
***
That evening, Jack called to say he’d be home late, so I treated myself to a delicious pizza from the guys at One Minute. I’d just finished eating it when there was a knock at the door.
“Ms Nightowl?”
Desdemona Nightowl was headmistress of Candlefield Academy of Supernatural Studies, or CASS for short.
“I’m sorry to turn up unannounced like this.”
“That’s okay. Do come in.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. Jack has to work late. Won’t you come through to the lounge?”
“Thank you.”
In addition to her freaky walking stick, she was carrying a small rectangular parcel wrapped in plain, brown paper.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Nothing for me, thank you. I can’t stay long.”
“How is Tommy?”
“None the worse for his ordeal. It’s in connection with that incident that I’m here today.”
“Oh?”
“It’s school policy to ensure that all passageways are adequately lit; there is less chance of accidents that way. After your visit, I asked the maintenance department to install lights in the passageway that you uncovered. In the course of doing so, they found this.” She placed the parcel onto the coffee table.
“What is it?”
“Please, open it.”
I tore off the brown paper to reveal a small framed portrait of a woman.
“Who is it?”
“I was hoping you might know.”
“Me? I don’t have a clue. Why did you bring it to me?”
“Turn it over.”
I did as she said. There was something written on the back. It read: second or third, matters not. This portrait shall belong to whoever discovers the passageway in which it was hidden.
“What does that mean? Second or third?” I asked.
“I have no idea.”
“I don’t think I should have this. The school should keep it.”
“No. It belongs to you now. Think of it as a token of our gratitude for saving Tommy Bestwick.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Just then, the door opened, and Jack walked in.
“Are there any burgers in the freezer, Jill? Oh? Sorry. I didn’t realise you had company.”
“I was just leaving.” Ms Nightowl smiled at Jack, but didn’t introduce herself.
I walked her to the door where we spoke in hushed voices.
“Thanks for coming over.”
“My pleasure. You really must visit us again. You still owe us a talk.”
“I’d love to.”
“I’ll be in touch, then.”
When I got back to the lounge, Jack was studying the painting.
“Who was that strange old bird?”
“She owns the bric-a-brac shop in town. The one near to the post office.”
“Why was she here?”
“I bought this painting today. She insisted on cleaning the frame before I took it away. I was going to collect it tomorrow, but she was passing so she decided to deliver it.”
“Since when were you interested in paintings?”
“I’m not, but I spotted this, and thought it was pretty.”
“It looks expensive.”
“It wasn’t. It’s only a print.”
“Who is that in the picture?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you going to hang it?”
I didn’t answer. I was too stunned by what I’d just noticed.
“Jill?”
“Err—I don’t know. I’m not sure if I still like it.” I picked it up. “I think I’ll stick it in the back bedroom for now.” I hurried upstairs before Jack spotted it too.
The woman in the portrait had a pendant around her neck. A pendant with the initials ‘JB’ engraved on it.
More mystery, magic and mayhem from Jill Gooder and a cast of thousands (okay, tens) in the next book:
Witch Is Why The Owl Returned
(Witch P.I. Mysteries #21)
SEASON THREE
Details of season three of the Witch P.I. Series can now be found on my website, here:
The Witch P.I. Series
ALSO FROM ADELE ABBOTT:
The Susan Hall Mysteries
This new series from Adele Abbott is set in the same world as the Witch P.I. Mysteries (Washbridge/Candlefield)
Investigative reporter, Susan Hall, is out to make her mark in her new job at The Bugle. If she is to succeed, she is going to have to bring in the big stories.
Whoops! Our New Flatmate Is A Human
(Susan Hall Mysteries #1)
Charlie (a werewolf), Dorothy (a vampire) and Neil (a wizard) have a new flatmate. The bad news is, she’s a human. The even worse news is, she’s an investigative reporter.
Web Site: http:www.AdeleAbbott.com
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