Witch Is Why Two Became One (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 16)

by Adele Abbott

  Witch Is Why

  Two Became One

  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 1

  It was a beautiful morning, and all was well with the world.

  What do you mean it makes a change for me to be happy and positive? Anyone would think I was a grouch.

  Last Friday, Jack had come up with the idea of going away for a long weekend. I’d taken a bit of persuading because normally I liked to plan things well in advance. I don’t do ‘spontaneous’. We went to Filey where we stayed in a beautiful little B&B. The weather was great, and we had a fantastic time. I’d assumed we’d come back on the Monday, but Jack had booked a couple of days off work, so we stayed until Tuesday evening. The break had done me a power of good; I felt refreshed and ready for whatever the world could throw at me.

  By the time I’d had my shower and dressed, Jack had already left for work. I was eating breakfast when my phone rang.

  “Hi, Kathy!”

  “Jill? You’re out of the shower, then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I called earlier. Jack said he thought you’d taken up residence in there.”

  “Cheek! I wasn’t in there that long.”

  “He tells me you had a great weekend?”

  “We did. It was fantastic. I feel so much better for it.”

  “Good. Look, I just called back to check what time Jack planned to call around tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “Didn’t he tell you?”

  “He’d left when I came downstairs.” Then I spotted the note on the breakfast bar. “Hold on a minute, he’s left me a note.” I quickly skimmed it. “We’re babysitting?”

  “Yeah. Jack sounded really enthusiastic.”

  “Did he? And the kids are coming over here?”

  “Yeah. I assumed you’d want to come to our house, but Jack insisted that the kids should come to you. He said it would be an adventure for them.”

  I was going to kill Jack.

  “So, what time will he be coming to collect them?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to check with him tonight. Where are you and Peter going?”

  “We’ve got tickets for the UK’s number one pop sensation!”

  “Pop sensation? You sound like a cheesy seventies DJ. Who is it, anyway?”

  “Only Murray Murray!”

  “Murray who?”

  “Murray.”

  “Yeah I got that. What’s his last name?”

  “Murray.”

  “Now you’ve lost me. What’s his first name?”

  “Murray.”

  “So let me get this straight. His name is Murray Murray?”

  “Yes. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of him?”

  “No. I think I’d remember if I had. What kind of name is that anyway?”

  “Don’t you ever listen to the radio, Jill?”

  “Only the talk programs. I can’t be doing with most of the music these days. It gives me a headache.”

  “You really are old before your time, aren’t you?”

  “If by that you mean that I have good taste in music, then I suppose you’re right.”

  ***

  Megan was cleaning her van.

  “Hi, Jill!” She called to me as soon as I stepped out of the door.

  “Morning, Megan.”

  “Did you have a good weekend?”

  “Great. What about you?”

  “I’ve been working. And guess what? I’ve landed another four new clients. If it carries on at this rate, I’ll soon be able to give up the modelling.”

  I considered mentioning Kathy’s concerns that Megan was poaching Peter’s clients, but then thought better of it. Kathy could fight her own battles.

  As I drove to work, I gave myself a good talking to. I had to hang onto the positivity of the weekend. It was time to start looking on the bright side of life. No more negativity for me. I wasn’t going to let anything drag me down.

  “Good morning, Jill.”

  Spoke too soon.

  “Mr Ivers? I thought you weren’t working on the toll bridge anymore?”

  “There’s a bug going around. Very nasty from all accounts—lots of toilet activity.”

  Way too much information. “So, you had to step into the breach?”

  “Precisely.”

  “It’s not a permanent move, then?”

  “No. I’m needed back at the office. They can’t afford to lose me for any length of time.”

  I bet. “Well, I’d better get going.” I handed over the toll fee.

  “Did you enjoy the last issue of my newsletter? I thought there were some particularly good articles this time around.”

  “Your newsletter was invaluable this month. Anyway, got to rush. Bye.”

  I wasn’t sure Mr Ivers would have appreciated it if he’d known that I’d used his newsletter to send me to sleep when I’d been to see Edward Hedgelog, holder of the dream-stone. I still had mixed feelings about my ‘consultation’ with Edward, but at least I hadn’t had the nightmare since then.

  ***

  “Jill!” Jules stood up from behind her desk as soon as I walked into the office. “Thank goodness you’re back.”

  “What’s the matter? It’s not Winky, is it? Is he all right?”

  “The cat’s fine. Although, I don’t know how you put up with him in your office all the time. He would drive me crazy.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “It’s Mrs V.”

  “Is she poorly?”

  “No, yes, I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Jules, spit it out! What’s wrong?”

  “She’s been acting strangely.”

  “Mrs V is always strange.”

  “I know, but she’s being even stranger than usual.”

  “In what way?”

  “You know how we both agreed to come in while you were off for two days? She started being funny with me yesterday—ordering me around, and generally being really nasty.”

  “Maybe she was just feeling under the weather?”

  “I don’t think it was that. When I asked her why she wasn’t knitting, she bit my head off. She said we didn’t come to work to waste time knitting.”

  “She said what?” Now I really was worried. Mrs V lived to knit. “Okay, I’ll have a word with her tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be okay. Anyway, how are
things between you and Jethro?”

  “It’s over. I dumped him because he wouldn’t quit the dance troupe.”

  “Maybe that was for the best. There’s plenty more fish in the sea.”

  “Gilbert has contacted me.”

  “You mean Spotty?”

  “Jill!” Jules gave me the sort of disapproving look that I normally got from Mrs V.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, but isn’t he the guy who was acne challenged?”

  “Yes, but his skin is much better since he found a new formula cream.”

  “So you’ve seen him?”

  “Not in person. He sent me a text with a photo attached.” She took out her phone. “Look.”

  I was gobsmacked. The last time I’d seen Gilbert, his face had been covered in acne, but now he had a perfectly clear complexion. Whatever he was using certainly seemed to be doing the job.

  “What will you do? Are you going to see him again?”

  “I don’t know. I told him I’d think about it.”

  I’d no sooner walked through to my office than Winky started on at me.

  “She has to go! You have to sack her!”

  “Who?”

  “The old bag lady, of course. Who do you think?”

  “I’ve told you a thousand times that I’m not getting rid of Mrs V.”

  “Yeah, but that was before.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before she started throwing me around the office.”

  “Don’t exaggerate.”

  “I’m not exaggerating. Yesterday, I was sitting over there minding my own business when she threw me straight across the room. I had to hide under the sofa. She’s a psycho, that woman.”

  “I’ve already promised Jules that I’ll have a word with Mrs V tomorrow.”

  “Those words had better be: ‘You’re fired’.”

  Winky huffed and puffed a little more, but then went back to the sofa where he picked up a book and began to read.

  “More fishing books?”

  “Nah, I got fed up of fly-fishing. Too much sitting around doing nothing for my liking.”

  “So, what’s the book?” I walked over to the sofa. “Hypnosis for beginners?” I laughed.

  “And what, may I ask, is so funny about that?”

  “Hypnosis is not really a thing, is it? It’s just a clever stage act.”

  “Once again, you demonstrate how very little you know about anything. Hypnosis is very real, and in the right hands, can be a very powerful tool.”

  “If you say so. No one is ever going to convince me. I’d like to see someone try to hypnotise me.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, and then went back to his book. At least now that he’d given up on the fly fishing, I wouldn’t have to worry about him snatching hats off people’s heads.

  A chill descended on the office, and I knew I was about to be visited by a ghost—I just didn’t know which one.

  “Colonel! Priscilla! How nice to see you both. How did the wedding go?”

  The colonel and Priscilla had decided to do away with a long engagement, and had tied the knot. Circumstances had dictated that they’d had to marry in Ghost Town, which had meant I’d been unable to attend the ceremony. I’d been devastated, as you can imagine.

  “It was a fabulous day,” Priscilla said. “Wasn’t it, Briggsy?”

  “What? Oh, yes. Fabulous.” The colonel seemed distracted.

  “Are you okay, Colonel?”

  “Not really. We’ve had some terrible news, haven’t we, Cilla?”

  Priscilla took the colonel’s hand. “It’ll be okay, Briggsy.”

  “I wish I shared your optimism.”

  “What’s the problem?” I asked.

  “It’s the house.” The colonel sighed. “It’s going to be demolished.”

  “How come?”

  “The new owners—those naked people—received an offer from a local property developer who wants to build twenty ugly houses on the site. That same man had contacted me numerous times when I was alive, but I’d always sent him packing. No amount of money could have persuaded me to part with my beautiful house. Unfortunately, it seems that the current owner is more interested in making a quick buck than in preserving my house.”

  “That’s terrible. Has the sale gone through yet?”

  “I don’t think so, but it’s only a matter of time. Cilla and I have been working overtime trying to scare away the property developer, but the man is too stupid to even notice our presence. I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless. I don’t suppose there’s anything you can do to help, is there, Jill?”

  “I’m not sure there is. Unless there’s something illegal going on, then it’s hard to see what I can do.”

  “Would you at least do some checks on the man, just to see if there is a glimmer of hope?”

  “Of course. Leave it with me.”

  With that, the colonel and Priscilla took their leave. I was sorry to see the colonel so unhappy, but even more so to learn the fate of his beautiful house.

  Chapter 2

  Winky had just fallen asleep on the sofa when the intercom buzzed. He jumped so much that he almost fell off.

  “Jill.” Jules’ voice came through. “I have A Clowne for you. He doesn’t have an appointment. Can you see him?”

  “A clown?” I hated clowns with a passion. Evil, every last one of them.

  “Yes. Mr Andrew Clowne.”

  “Oh, right, I see. Please show him in, Jules.”

  Mr Clowne was dressed in a charcoal suit. He had short, brown hair which was thinning on top.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Miss Gooder.”

  “Call me Jill, please. Take a seat. Would you like a drink?”

  “No, thanks. I’d prefer to get straight down to business, if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly. What is it I can do for you?”

  “I’m a clown.”

  “Yes, so I understand. Andrew Clowne.”

  “No. I mean that I’m a clown.”

  Was it me? Or was this man being deliberately obtuse?

  “I understand. Your name is Andrew Clowne.”

  “That’s right. My name is Andrew Clowne, but I’m also a clown.”

  “Ah, now I see. It was a clever idea to change your name like that.”

  “Sorry? I don’t follow.”

  “Changing your name to Andrew Clowne, so you could be: A Clowne, a clown.”

  “I didn’t change my name. Andrew Clowne is my given name.”

  My head was spinning. “What exactly is it I can do for you, Mr Clowne?”

  “I’m the chairman of NOCA. Or at least I will be until after the annual conference which is to be held next week.”

  “Knocker? What’s that?”

  “N-O-C-A. It stands for the National Organisation of Clown Acts.”

  “Of course.”

  “The conference is to be held right here in Washbridge. Unfortunately, a very serious issue has arisen, which is why I’m here. Firstly, it’s important I emphasise that discretion is essential.”

  “Jill Discretion Gooder - that’s me. Discretion is my middle name.”

  To say he was supposed to be a clown, the man didn’t have much of a sense of humour. I was feeding him my best material, and he was staring at me stony-faced.

  “What is the ‘serious issue’ that has arisen, Mr Clowne?”

  He looked furtively around the office, as though expecting to see someone hiding there.

  “We have received a threatening letter, which said that if the conference goes ahead, there will be deaths.”

  “Do you mean they’re threatening to kill someone at the conference?”

  “Precisely. The letter says that two people will be murdered, unless we agree to pay them.”

  “They’re demanding money?”

  “Yes, and a lot of it. Thirty thousand pounds, to be precise.”

  “Surely, and I say this with the greatest of respect, an organisatio
n such as yours could never come up with that kind of money?”

  “NOCA has existed for a very long time, and every month each member is required to make a payment of ten pence, over and above their membership fee, into the organisation’s contingency fund. Since its inception, that fund has never been needed, and currently stands at a little over sixty thousand pounds.”

  “Gosh! How many clowns are there in your organisation?”

  “At any one time, there can be as many as five thousand, but only a very small percentage of those will be attending the conference.”

  “What exactly would you like me to do?”

  “Find out who is behind the threat, and stop them.”

  “Have you taken this to the police?”

  “No. The committee discussed it, but decided that it wouldn’t be in our interest to do so. The publicity would be disastrous, and of course this could just be a hoax.”

  “Do you think that’s likely?”

  “I might have, had it not been for the murders.”

  “Murders?”

  “Over the last twelve months two clowns have been murdered.”

  “I don’t remember reading anything about that.”

  “That’s hardly surprising. The murders were six months apart, and in different areas of the country. The victims were not high-profile clowns—just enthusiastic amateurs.”

  “I take it the murderer has never been caught?”

  “No, but the threatening letter referred to the two murders, and claimed that the writer had been responsible for them.”

  “I have to ask this. Have you considered paying these people off?”

  “Certainly not. We will never give in to threats.”

  “Quite right. There isn’t much to go on. Perhaps the first step would be for me to meet with the rest of your committee. Could that be arranged?”

  “Yes, I can organise that. Will tomorrow be okay?”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  As soon as Mr Clowne had left, Winky jumped onto my desk.

  “And that guy is supposed to be a clown?” Winky rolled his one eye. “He’s about as funny as the bubonic plague. Anyway, I’m surprised that you agreed to take on the case.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re terrified of clowns.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not.”