by Adele Abbott
“Are you sure this is safe?”
“Of course. It’s perfectly safe. This illusion has been performed thousands of times. “
“How many times have you performed it?”
“A few less than that.”
“How many times?”
“I’ve watched the instruction video twice.” He pushed a set of wooden steps in front of me. “Here, climb in.”
“I’m not sure about this.”
“I’ll get Jules, then.”
“Okay, okay.”
I climbed up the steps, and into the box. As soon as I was inside, Winky closed the lid. There was a gap at the top where my head poked out.
“I’m having second thoughts about this.”
Too late. I heard the click of the catches as he fastened them to stop me getting out.
“You will be careful, won’t you?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ve even put a plastic sheet on the floor in case there’s any blood spatter.”
“What?” I screamed.
“Only joking. I’ll just go get the saw.”
“I’m really not sure this is a good idea.”
All of a sudden, I heard a buzzing sound.
“What’s that?”
“Just the saw. Nothing to worry about.”
“I thought you’d be using a handsaw.”
“A chainsaw is much quicker.”
“No! You can’t—”
He began to cut through the box. I closed my eyes tight shut, and waited for the pain. Moments later, the buzzing stopped, and he spun me around. It was the weirdest sensation. I was looking at my feet which were sticking out from the other half of the box. I wiggled my toes just to be sure, and the toes in the other box wiggled.
I was freaked out, but also more than a little impressed.
“That was brilliant, Winky.”
“The Great Winkini, please.”
“Would you put me back together again now, please?”
“There’s no point. The audition is finished.”
“Winky! You can’t leave me like this!”
“I suppose I could be persuaded.”
“Salmon?”
“Red not pink, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
***
It was several days since the murder, and the library had now reopened. It was high time I had a look around there. The woman sitting behind the desk was wearing a badge which read: ‘Acting Senior Librarian’. Presumably, she’d had it made specially.
“Morning.” She smiled. “Welcome to Washbridge library. Is there anything I can help you with today?”
“I’m not actually looking for a book. My name is Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator. I’m investigating the murder of Anita Pick.”
“Oh? Aren’t the police dealing with that?”
“I’m working alongside them.” Whether they like it or not. “Did you know Anita well?”
She glanced left and right, as though she wanted to make sure no one could overhear.
“Quite well. Or, at least as well as anyone could get to know that woman. To be honest, I always found her a little cold—and she could be really spiteful sometimes.”
“Spiteful, how?”
“I applied for a Senior Librarian position at another library; I’d rather not name it. But when I asked her if she’d support my application, she refused. She said I didn’t have the necessary experience, which is total rubbish. I’ve been doing the job for over eight years; I know just as much about the library as Anita.”
“I see. Can you think of any reason why someone would want to murder her?”
“No, certainly not. She wasn’t my favourite person, but I have no idea why anyone would want to do her harm.”
“Have you worked in this particular library recently?”
“On and off. I tend to move around between several libraries—filling in as necessary to cover absence and holidays.”
“Is it okay if I take a look around?”
“Yes, of course. Help yourself.”
The library was old and in need of some renovation. Apart from a lot of books, there really wasn’t much else to see. There didn’t appear to be any security cameras inside the building, so on my way out I checked with the Acting Senior Librarian.
“I can’t see any CCTV cameras inside the building. Is that right?”
“There isn’t the money for them, and anyway, what would people steal? A few books? It wouldn’t be worth it these days. There are cameras outside which cover the main doors.”
“I didn’t notice them when I came in.”
“They’re actually obscured a little by the tree.”
“But they still work, do they?”
“I don’t actually know, but I assume so.”
“Would it be possible to see the recordings?”
“That’s all dealt with by an external security company. I believe the same company covers all the libraries in the region. I can find you the name if you like. You could leave me your number, and I’ll call you with the details.”
“Thanks. That would be very helpful.”
***
Aunt Lucy had sent a message that she wanted to see me, so I magicked myself over to her house.
“Thanks for coming, Jill. Would you like a cup of tea and a custard cream? I got some in specially for you.”
“Go on then, if you’re twisting my arm.”
She made tea, and we settled down in the kitchen with a plate of custard creams in front of us. There were six on the plate. So that was four for me and two for Aunt Lucy.
What? I’m only joking. Sheesh.
“What did you want to talk to me about, Aunt Lucy?”
“A friend of mine, Coral Fish, is the curator of the Candlefield Museum of Witchcraft.”
“I didn’t know there was such a place.”
“It’s on the other side of Candlefield, so you probably won’t have seen it. Anyway, it seems their most important exhibit has been stolen: The Wand of Magna.”
“Wand? I didn’t think witches used wands?”
“They never have really, but a long time ago they used to carry them as a sort of symbol; a representation of their magical powers. It was a silly tradition, but it was one that no one seemed to dare challenge. Until Magna Mondale.”
“She’s the one the wand is named after?”
“That’s right, it’s actually her wand. Magna emerged as the most powerful witch of her time, and probably of all time. Up until that point, there’d only ever been five levels. But she was so much more powerful than any other witch, that level six was created just for her.”
“Why haven’t I heard about her before?”
“If you’d been brought up in Candlefield, and had attended school here, you would have. It’s taught as part of the history of witchcraft. Even so, because it’s so long ago now it’s not something that many young people can relate to. One of the first things Magna did when she became the first level six witch, was to discard her wand. And, she encouraged all other witches to do the same. A few didn’t like the idea, and resisted. But over time, the wand was consigned to history.”
“I see. So this wand—the one that’s gone missing—it doesn’t actually have any magical powers?”
“No. None of them ever did. It’s purely a symbol. But it’s also a record of one of the most important stages in the history of Candlefield witches.”
“Have the police been informed?”
“No. Coral doesn’t want news of the theft to spread. She’s afraid that if the police are notified, the press will find out soon after, and then it will be all over Candlefield.”
“But won’t people notice it’s missing?”
“No, because they have a duplicate, which they use whenever the actual wand has to be taken away for cleaning. So, for the time being, they’ve put that in its place. But it’s only going to be a matter of time before someone realises.”
Chapter 7
It was no good. I couldn’t justify keeping Jules on as my PA. The only experience she had was in packing sausages and black puddings. Times were hard, and I could barely make rent, so how could I pay her to sit at a desk looking pretty? It’s not as though she could even use a computer. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. I’d just have to tell her the truth—well, not the entire truth. I could hardly tell her that my cat had recruited her. I’d just say that setting her on had been a mistake, and I’d have to let her go.
I felt bad about it, but with her experience in the food packing industry, I felt sure she’d get another job soon—maybe packing pickles? Winky wouldn’t be very pleased with me, but this was all his fault anyway.
Even though I knew it was the right thing to do, I wasn’t looking forward to telling her. Poor little mite. She’d been so pleased to be starting a new career as a PA, and now I was going to burst her bubble.
I gave myself a silent pep talk as I walked up the stairs to my offices.
“Come on Jill, you’ve got to be strong! You’re a business woman. You can’t let sentiment rule your head.”
I was going to do it first thing. There was no point in delaying. Jules would be upset and she might even cry, but it had to be done. I took a deep breath and walked in.
“Morning, Jill!” She greeted me with a cheery smile.
Oh bum! This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Morning, Jules.” She looked so happy. “There’s something I need to—”
“Jill, look, before you say anything, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to resign, I’m afraid.”
Do what?
“Oh dear, and you were doing so well. Is the job too much for you? Are you going back to the black pudding factory?”
“No, I would never go back there. I’ve actually had a better offer.”
“A better offer? Doing what?”
“To work as a receptionist.”
“But you’ve only been here a few days.”
“I know! Brilliant, isn’t it? I always thought that once I had my foot on the ladder, I’d have more opportunities, but I never dreamed it would happen so quickly.”
“That’s great, I guess. Do you mind me asking where you’re going to work?”
“That’s the other good thing. It’s not very far away. In fact, it’s right next door—for those lawyer people.”
“You mean Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole?
“Yes. That’s them. There’s a lot of Armitages, aren’t there? In fact, it was one of the Armitages who came in to see me just fifteen minutes ago.”
“Was it Gordon Armitage, by any chance?”
“Yes. I think that was his name. He said he’d spotted me, and thought I’d make the ideal receptionist for his company. He offered me a job there and then. It’s a lot more money than you were going to pay me, so I had to accept. I’m sorry to let you down, but I could hardly say no.”
“Of course not. I’m sorry to lose you, obviously.”
What? Who are you calling a hypocrite?
“Is it okay if I go around there now? He said I could start today.”
“Yes, of course.”
I left Jules packing her stuff, and went through to my office. I didn’t know how to feel about what had just happened. I’d wanted her gone, but for Armitage to come in here and poach my staff was simply malicious. He must have realised that Jules wasn’t a qualified receptionist; he’d done it just to get at me.
“What’s the matter with Jules?” Winky said.
“She’s leaving.”
“How could you fire her? Have you no heart?”
“Hold on. I haven’t fired anyone. I like Jules. I was quite happy for her to stay.”
“So why is she leaving then?”
“It’s that crowd next door: Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole. They’ve offered her a job with more money.”
“See? Can I spot talent or what? Do you want me to find a replacement for her?”
“Don’t you dare!”
***
Anita Pick’s husband, Gregory, lived in one of the more affluent parts of Washbridge. I knew as soon as I saw the address that we were talking about a property worth several million pounds.
I couldn’t even see the house because it was hidden away behind a high wall. The gate was locked, so I pressed the button on the intercom.
“Hello.” A stern voice came back.
“Hello there. I’m hoping to see Gregory Pick.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. My name is Jill Gooder—I’m a private investigator. I’m investigating the murder of Mr Pick’s wife.”
“Just a moment.” The intercom clicked off. I wasn’t optimistic about being allowed in, so I began to consider the various spells which I might use to gain access. But then, the same voice came back through the intercom. “Come up to the house, please.”
I drove slowly up the driveway. The gardens were magnificent, as was the huge fountain.
Before I could ring the doorbell, a butler opened the door, and invited me inside.
“Please follow me, madam. Mr Pick is in the main reception room.”
The house reeked of money—from the marble floor to the chandeliers. The numerous paintings were no doubt collector’s items.
Gregory Pick greeted me with a smile, which was anything but genuine. “I understand that you’re investigating Anita’s murder. Who hired you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“My friend, Madeline Lane. She’s been charged with your wife’s murder.”
“She must be the Assistant Librarian?”
“That’s right.”
“I take it you don’t think she’s responsible?”
“I know she isn’t. Madeline could never do anything like that.”
“I see. And how can I help, exactly?”
“When was the last time you saw Anita?”
“A week before she was murdered, but only briefly, at my solicitor’s office. You do know that we were going through divorce proceedings, I assume?”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“As always, she was being awkward—very awkward indeed. I’ve done my best to reach a fair settlement which would allow both of us to move on with our lives.”
“Pickle!” The voice came from my right. I turned around to see a tall, slim, attractive, young woman. She was six feet two if she was an inch. “Pickle, have you seen Boo-Boo?”
“Lily Bell, come over here, darling. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
She walked over to us as though she was on a catwalk.
“Lily Bell. This is—sorry I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Jill Gooder.”
“Of course. This is Jill Gooder. She’s a private investigator; she’s looking into Anita’s murder.”
At the mention of Anita’s name, Lily Bell’s smile turned into a scowl. “Why does she need to speak to you?”
“She’s just asking a few questions, darling.”
“That woman has been the bane of our lives. I can’t say I’m sorry she’s gone.”
“Lily Bell—darling—you mustn’t say things like that.”
“It’s true though. Isn’t it, Pickle? She was trying to squeeze every last penny out of you.”
“Is that true?” I asked Pick.
“Of course it is,” Lily Bell answered for him. “And why should she have all of his money? It’s not like she ever supported him. If anything, she held him back.”
“I think you’d better go and look for Boo-Boo.” Pick seemed a little embarrassed by Lily Bell’s outburst.
“Okay, Pickle. Love you lots.” She left with the same catwalk elegance.
“Boo-Boo?” I said.
“Lily Bell’s poodle.”
The contrast between Anita, who I’d met briefly on two occasions, and Lily Bell was unbelievable.
“Can I ask how you and Anita met?”
“At Uni. Anita was reading English Lit. I was studying I.T.—Artificial Intelligence mainly.”
“You’ve obviously done well for yourself.”
“Yes, I struck lucky during the dot com boom, and then I sold up. Now I spend most of my time playing golf and tennis.” He laughed. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”
“I assume Anita stood to benefit substantially from the divorce?”
“The woman was asking for half of everything. Why should she get half just for being married to me? It’s not like she played any part in the business, whatsoever—if anything she held me back.” He seemed to realise the implications of what he’d said. “Of course, that doesn’t mean I wished her ill. I was devastated to hear about her death.”
“Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to kill Anita?”
“No one. Surely, this is just a random killing, isn’t it? The library has always attracted more than its fair share of nutjobs.”
“You may be right.”
It was certainly a strong possibility.
After we were done, Pick showed me to the door.
“I hope you find who did this. Anita was a pain in the backside, but she didn’t deserve to die like that.”
He sounded sincere, but then they always did.
***
Kathy had phoned to tell me that Dolly was on her way over to paint their family portrait. I had to stop this travesty somehow, so I jumped in the car, and hurried over there.
“Kathy, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
“What’s your problem? Pete and I like the idea of a family portrait.”
She and Peter had changed into their Sunday best clothes.
“Why do I have to wear this?” Mikey said, pulling at his bow tie. He and Lizzie were dressed up too.
“Leave your bow tie alone.” Kathy straightened it again. “A lady is coming to paint our portrait.”
“Can I have my drum in the picture?”
“No,” Kathy snapped. “I don’t want that thing in the painting.”
“Do I look nice, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie said.
“Yes, Lizzie. You look like a little angel.”
“Mummy says I can’t have any of my beanies in the picture.”
