Witch Is When Stuff Got Serious (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 11)

by Adele Abbott

  “What’s she doing there?”

  “Her boss, that snotty-nosed cow with the attitude, got herself murdered last night.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Yeah. Dead as a dodo. Madeline found her after they’d locked up.”

  “So why is Madeline at the police station?”

  “They took her there last night, and she’s still there. She said she tried to call you, but couldn’t get through, so she called and asked me to pop over here this morning. It’s a bit inconvenient really. I’m meant to be having hair extensions put in, but I had to cancel it. It’s okay though because Cynthia said she can fit me in tomorrow. So, will you go and see her?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  “Good, well I’d better get going. I’ve got fish cakes to buy. Nice to see you again, Jill.”

  ***

  Jack Maxwell had been reinstated shortly after he’d presented Internal Affairs with the digital recording I’d made of Tom Hawk and Craig Beele. Hawk was now facing a number of charges, which would probably land him in prison for several years.

  I got through to Jack on the first attempt.

  “Jack, it’s me.”

  “Hi, petal.”

  “What have I told you?”

  “About what?” He laughed.

  “Don’t call me petal.”

  “It’s a term of endearment.”

  “If you call me that one more time, I’ll be forced to break your legs. How’s that for endearment? Look, the reason I called is that I’ve just heard you’ve got a friend of mine down there. Madeline Lane—she was brought in last night. She works in the library.”

  “We’re still questioning her. She was with the deceased when my people arrived at the library last night.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Not at the moment. Like I said, we’re still interviewing her.”

  “When then?”

  “Some time later today.”

  “Can I come over there and wait?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. I know what you’re like. You’ll only be in the way. Sorry, I have to go. I’ll let you know when we’re done with her.”

  In the way?

  “I’m going to the police station, Jules.”

  “You’re not in trouble are you, Jill?”

  “No, but I have to go see someone who might be.”

  “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

  “You could feed Winky in about an hour’s time.”

  “Salmon?”

  “No. He’s costing me a small fortune. Give him some of that economy tuna, but don’t let him see the label. And if the phone rings, you remember what to say?”

  “Jill Gooder, private investigator.”

  “Very good. We’ll make a receptionist of you yet.”

  “Do you really think so?” Her face lit up.

  Stranger things have happened.

  Life was much simpler when Jack and I had detested one another. Now, we were—err—whatever it was we were—it was much trickier. I couldn’t just burst into the police station and demand to see Mad. It would get me nowhere, and would royally cheese off Jack. I’d used invisibility numerous times before to get inside the building, but that wouldn’t work this time because Mad would probably be in an interview room or a holding cell. A different approach was needed.

  I made my way around the side of the building to the car park. Once there, I waited until there was no one around, then shrank myself, and crawled through one of the vents into the air conditioning ductwork. It was very dark inside there; illuminated only by the light which shone through the grilles along its length. As I crept along, I could see into the various rooms. I had a rough idea where I needed to be, so took a right turn and headed towards what I hoped were the interview rooms.

  Suddenly, there was the patter of tiny feet behind me. An enormous spider was rushing my way. I had to act quickly, so I shot a lightning bolt, which hit it square on the nose. That did the trick.

  I crawled a little further until I came to the next grille. It was one of the interview rooms, but there was no one in there. I carried on to the next room. In this one, two police officers were interviewing a middle-aged man who was sporting a Mohawk haircut. It really didn’t suit him.

  There was no one in the first holding cell, but when I looked through the grille into the second one, I saw Mad. She was still dressed in her librarian outfit, but had let her hair down. Seated on a metal bench, she looked thoroughly miserable.

  “Mad,” I called.

  She didn’t hear me.

  “Mad!” I rattled on the grille.

  She looked up at the wall.

  “Mad, it’s me. Up here.”

  She looked puzzled, but stood up and walked towards the grille.

  “It’s Jill. Can you hear me?”

  “Jill? What are you doing here?”

  “Your mum came to see me. This was the only way I could get to talk to you.”

  “How on earth did you fit in there?”

  “I shrank myself.”

  “Oh yes. I keep forgetting you can do stuff like that.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I will be, once they let me out.”

  “What happened at the library?”

  “I honestly don’t know. We have the same routine every day at closing time. We lock the main outer doors on the front of the building, and then I take any old books which have been returned, down to the archive. There’s usually only a few each day that need to go down there. Normally, by the time I come back upstairs, Anita is ready to leave. She was okay when I left her to go down to the archive, but when I got back upstairs I couldn’t see her anywhere. I found her lying behind the desk—in a pool of blood. I checked her pulse, but she was already dead.”

  “Did you see a murder weapon?”

  “There was no sign of one as far as I could see. I don’t really know why they’re still holding me. I agreed to come in yesterday because I was the only other person at the scene, but they’ve been questioning me for most of the night, and there’s still no sign of them letting me go.”

  “They’ll have to release you soon. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I tried to call you last night, but I couldn’t get through, so I rang Mum. I wasn’t convinced she’d go and see you. It sounded like it was a lot of bother, to be honest.”

  “Yeah, she said she’d had to rearrange her hair appointment.”

  “Oh dear. I’ll be in the bad books when I get out.”

  “It was quite a surprise to see your mother again after all this time.”

  “She doesn’t change much, does she?”

  “Not much. She still scares me.”

  “Did she have Nails with her?”

  “Nails? Is that her dog?”

  “No, that’s her latest fella. His name’s actually Simon, but everyone calls him Nails.”

  “As in ‘hard as nails’?”

  Mad laughed. “No. As in, he bites his nails all the time. I wouldn’t mind if it was just his fingernails.”

  “Gross!”

  “Tell me about it. I daren’t eat a pot noodle anywhere around him, just in case—”

  “Don’t! You’re turning my stomach.” No pot noodles for me for the foreseeable future. “Look, I’d better get going. Call me when they release you, and I’ll come and pick you up.”

  ***

  When I arrived at Cuppy C, the twins were absolutely bubbling with excitement. If past experience was anything to go by, that probably wasn’t a good sign.

  “Why are you two so hyper?”

  “We’ve had a brilliant idea,” Amber said. “And it’s one that’s going to revolutionise Cuppy C.”

  That sounded like bad news.

  “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you tried something new and revolutionary?”

  They both looked puzzled.

  “The ‘deluxe’ chocolate fountain?”

  “That was different.” Pe
arl waved away my doubts. “This is going to put Cuppy C on the map!”

  “And what exactly is ‘this’?”

  “A conveyor belt.” Amber was still bubbling with obvious enthusiasm.

  “Sorry? I thought for a moment you said: conveyor belt?”

  “That is what I said. Brilliant, eh?”

  “A conveyor belt?”

  “Yep.”

  “In here?”

  “Yep.”

  “Just one question?”

  “Go on.” Pearl was every bit as enthusiastic as her sister.

  “Have you lost your tiny minds?”

  Their faces fell—that obviously wasn’t the reaction they’d been hoping for.

  “It’s a great idea!” Amber didn’t try to hide her annoyance.

  “You don’t understand the food service industry.” Pearl appeared equally put out.

  “I have seen a conveyor belt in a sushi bar,” I conceded.

  “Well then,” Amber said. “There you are.”

  “But I’m not sure it will work in here. I’ve never heard of a tea room with a conveyor belt.”

  “That’s the whole point!” Amber was enthused again. “We’ll be the first.”

  “Pioneers!” Pearl beamed.

  “So how exactly will it work?”

  “The buns and cakes will go around and around the tea room.” Amber waved her hand in a circular motion to illustrate the principle. “People can take whatever they fancy from the conveyor, and then pay for it when they leave the shop.”

  “And what’s even better,” Pearl said. “Is when customers see our cakes going by their table, they won’t be able to resist them. Sales will triple!”

  “Whatever gave you the idea for this?”

  “A man came into the shop a couple of days ago. He told us all about it.”

  “A man? It wasn’t the same man who sold you the chocolate fountain, was it?”

  “No.” Pearl turned to Amber. “It wasn’t, was it?”

  “No. This man had a moustache and a beard.”

  Hmm?

  “Did he actually show you any pictures of other tea rooms that have successfully implemented the conveyor belt?”

  “You’re missing the point, Jill,” Amber said. “We’ll be the first.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good thing. It sounds like he’ll be using Cuppy C as a test bed.”

  “Jill, you simply don’t understand the tea room business.”

  “Apparently not.”

  Chapter 3

  Mr Ivers had a real spring in his step. Whatever did he have to be so happy about? I thought he’d still be in mourning over his Diamond. When he’d found out how much it would cost to have the correct engine fitted, he’d been forced to sell it.

  “Morning, Jill! Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

  “Gorgeous, yes. Pity you can’t take a run out in the Diamond.” Sometimes, it was scary how cruel I could be.

  “That’s life, I guess. No good crying over spilled cream.”

  “Milk.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Never mind. So, why are you so chipper? Are there some blockbuster movies out this week?”

  “I haven’t had time to think about the movies. I’ve had other things on my mind.”

  I could sense he was dying for me to ask, but I’m not that stupid.

  “Funny you should ask,” he said.

  Huh?

  “I’ve met a lovely young woman.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, through Love Spell.”

  I was surprised the Love Spell girls hadn’t kicked him off their books. According to Hilary, all the witches he’d dated up until now had said he was boring—big surprise!

  “That’s nice. Have you had many dates with her?”

  “No. We’ve only been out on the one.”

  That figured.

  “But we really clicked—right from the get go. Her name’s Tess. She’s lovely.”

  “Does she like the cinema, too?”

  “No, funnily enough she doesn’t. And yet, it doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’ve barely thought about movies since I met her. I only just managed to get this week’s column for The Bugle completed on time.”

  “Wow. It sounds like Tess has really made an impression on you.”

  “She certainly has.”

  “I’m very pleased for you, Mr Ivers. That’s great news.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet her. I’m sure you’ll like her.”

  If Tess could keep Ivers off my back, then I was sure I would.

  ***

  It was late afternoon, and I was thinking about calling it a day when the phone rang. It was Mad.

  “Jill, they’ve just released me. Are you still okay to come and pick me up?”

  “Sure, no problem. Stay where you are. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

  I jumped in the car, and drove over to the police station. Mad was waiting for me in reception.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just tired. I need a shower and some shut-eye.”

  “Come on, then. I’ll get you home. Or you can stay at my place if you’d prefer?”

  “No. It’s okay, Jill. I’d rather get back home.”

  We were about to leave the building when Jack Maxwell appeared.

  “Jill, wait a minute, please.” He had another officer by his side.

  “What’s up, Jack?”

  “Madeline Lane, I’m arresting you for the murder of Anita Pick.” The other officer took Mad’s arm, and led her back inside the station. She was too tired and shocked to resist.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Sorry.” Jack pulled me to one side.

  “What on earth are you playing at? You’ve only just released her. Why are you charging her?”

  “We’ve found the murder weapon. It was on one of the bookshelves in the library. The fingerprints on it belong to your friend.”

  ***

  Late afternoon, the next day, my phone rang. It was Pearl. She was so excited she could barely get the words out.

  “Jill! You have to come over now! Come and see the conveyor belt!”

  Cuppy C had been closed all morning for the engineers to install it. I’d tried several times to warn the twins that I didn’t think it was a good idea, but they were adamant that it would put them ahead of the competition.

  “Will you come over, Jill? Please! You’ve got to see this!”

  “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  “It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” Amber looked like a young child on Christmas morning.

  The conveyor belt started behind the counter, went over to the wall, ran along that wall and the next, and then cut through the middle of the shop, back to the counter.

  “It’s very long.” I observed.

  “It had to be long,” Amber said. “To cover all of the tables.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. But how do people get from that side of the shop to the other? The conveyor belt cuts them off.”

  “They have to duck underneath it.”

  “Right. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Would you like to see a demo?” Pearl said.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “Sit over there, then.” Pearl pointed. “At the table against the far wall.”

  Once I was seated, Amber and Pearl started to load the conveyor belt with a selection of cakes and buns. I was rather peckish, and quite fancied a blueberry muffin. Once the cakes were on the conveyor belt, one of the twins pressed the start button, and it began to move. Slowly—very slowly. Almost as slow as Mr Ivers’ Diamond.

  By the time my blueberry muffin made its way around the shop, I would have starved to death. It would have been quicker to go and fetch one from the bakery.

  “It’s a bit slow, isn’t it, girls?”

  “Have some patience, Jill. There’s probably a way to make it go quicker. We just need time to work it out.”

  “Okay. In the
meantime, I think I’ll just walk over here and get my muffin because by the time it reaches me, it’ll be past its sell by date.”

  ***

  It was two days since Mad had been arrested. She’d been charged with the murder of Anita Pick, and was being held on remand at Longdale Prison, which was a thirty-mile drive from Washbridge. I’d been in touch with her mother who had managed to arrange a pass for me to visit Mad.

  Longdale was a depressing place. I joined the queue of relatives and friends who were waiting to visit their loved ones. After a quick pat down, we were allowed into the waiting area. Then, five minutes later, a bell rang, and we were ushered through to a much larger room where the inmates were already seated at tables. I spotted Mad in the far corner of the room. She looked tired and drawn—not her usual bubbly self at all.

  “How are you?” It was a stupid question.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “I’m going to help you get out of here, but I need you to take me through exactly what happened that day.”

  “Like I told you before, Anita was fine when we locked up. I went down to the archive, and when I got back, she was dead. I can’t have been gone for more than ten minutes—fifteen at the most.”

  “Are you absolutely sure the library was empty when you locked up?”

  “As sure as I can be. We have the same routine every day. The two of us walk through the library just before closing time, to hurry along any stragglers. Normally, by then, there’s no more than half a dozen people still inside. Once we’ve seen the last few out, we lock up.”

  “What happened after you found her?”

  “I called the ambulance and the police. I don’t really know why I bothered with the ambulance because I knew Anita was dead. Once the police arrived, I unlocked the doors, and let them in. The paramedics arrived shortly after.”

  “Had you seen anyone acting suspiciously during the day?”

  “No, but to be honest, I’d spent most of the time hiding in the cupboard—the one you found me in the other day.”

  “Getting in some target practice with the crossbow?”

  “No. Catching up on my sleep. We’d been to a function, sponsored by the Carnation Foundation, the night before. Anita and me were both invited. I didn’t really want to go, but I didn’t have much say in the matter. I may have had a couple of drinks too many, so the next day, I was still pretty much out on my feet. Anita didn’t seem to care that I’d gone AWOL; I think she’d pretty much given up on me.”