by Adele Abbott
“Probably for the best.” I turned to Kathy. “Can I have a word?” I ushered her into the kitchen. “Look. I don’t know how to say this, but—err—Dolly—err—she isn’t really a —”
I was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“That must be her!” Kathy rushed to answer it. I followed.
“Come in, Dolly,” Kathy gushed. “Do you need a hand with your equipment? Pete, come and help Dolly to carry her things in. Where do you want us?”
Dolly followed Kathy into the living room. “Probably over by that wall. That would make a nice backdrop.”
“How long will this take, Mum?” Mikey said. “I want to practise my drum.”
Dolly smiled at him. “It won’t take very long, young man.”
Oh well, no one could say I hadn’t tried.
“I think I’ll be off.”
“Why don’t you stay and watch, Jill?” Peter said.
“No, it’s okay. I’d better get going.”
I didn’t want to hang around to witness the fallout.
***
Two hours later, I was back at my flat when my phone rang; it was Kathy. Oh no! I knew what this was about, and I really didn’t want to have to deal with it.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Kathy shouted.
“About what?”
“You know what! Dolly! She can’t draw for toffee.”
“I did try to tell you.”
“It was so embarrassing. We all look like matchstick men.”
“Lowry did all right with them.”
“Lowry this is not! Even Mikey said it was rubbish.”
“He didn’t say that out loud did he?”
“Yes, but I don’t think Dolly heard him. I told him to go and play with his drum.”
“I did try to warn you.”
“But she called herself an artist.”
“I know. I think she truly believes that’s what she is.”
“How do you know her anyway?”
“I helped her daughter to get a job in that fancy dress shop we went to, and also to find a flat-share.”
“Where does Dolly live?”
“Out of town somewhere. I’m not sure where.”
“Something funny is going on here. What was all that about a dog?”
“I have no idea. You’ve seen her paintings. She’s a lovely old dear, but she’s definitely a cucumber short of a sandwich.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be a sandwich short of a picnic?”
“Whatever. The scary thing is that she normally charges for her work.”
Chapter 8
I had a meeting with Anita Pick’s solicitor, a man named Larry Long, who had been acting for her in the divorce. His was a small practice, which comprised of just him and one other partner, a Mr Stephen Short. They were based in a building that was only two doors down from my own.
“Good morning, Madam.” The young female receptionist greeted me with a dazzling smile. I wondered if she had a background in black pudding packing too. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Mr Long is expecting me. My name is Jill Gooder.”
“Please take a seat. Mr Long will be with you shortly.”
Long? Shortly? While I waited, I contemplated the comedy gold opportunities presented by their names.
“Miss Gooder?” A man appeared from one of the two offices to my left. He was tiny.
“Call me Jill, please.”
“I’m Larry Long. Pleased to meet you.”
We shook hands, and then I followed him into his office.
“How can I help you, Jill?”
“I was hoping to get some information about Anita Pick’s divorce.”
“Terrible business. I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news. There’s a limit to what I can tell you, obviously, for confidentiality reasons. What I can say though, is the poor woman was being put through the mill. Have you met her husband?”
“Yes, I went to his house the other day. He seemed perfectly pleasant.”
“Don’t be fooled. He can be charming, but he’s totally ruthless when it comes to money. Have you met his new love interest? Lily something—”
“Lily Bell?”
“That’s the one. She’s got her claws into him in a big way, and even though Pick is ruthless, we could have probably reached a settlement if it wasn’t for that woman. Lily Bell is adamant that he should fight for every last penny. As a result, he’s been trying to squirrel away cash and other assets to reduce the settlement. But it hasn’t done him much good because we’ve uncovered most of it. Anita stood to make a pretty penny.”
“What will happen now?”
“As no settlement has been reached, and they aren’t yet divorced, it will depend on what’s in her Will—always assuming there is one. They have no children, so my guess is that Pick will end up with the lot.”
After we’d finished, Larry walked me back through reception. As he did, a giant of a man appeared out of the adjacent office.
“Jill, can I introduce you to my partner, Stephen Short.”
***
I was on my way to Candlefield Museum. I’d never been to that part of Candlefield before; it was more than a little off the beaten track.
Coral Fish was about the same age as Aunt Lucy. But that’s where the resemblance ended. Whereas Aunt Lucy was very colourful and a teeny bit eccentric, Coral was dressed all in grey, and came across as being very strait-laced.
She led me into her office. “Thank you for agreeing to help, Jill.”
“My pleasure.”
“Has your Aunt Lucy told you about the wand?”
“Yes, she gave me some background. I have to confess I hadn’t even heard of it until then. In fact, I didn’t know this museum existed until she told me about it.”
“We are a bit out of the way here, but there’s a reason for that. It’s built on the site of Magna Mondale’s house.”
“Who knows the wand is missing?”
“Myself, Bert Hee, the night security man, Elizabeth Myles, the art restorer, and Sandra Bell, head of P.R. and marketing. Bert discovered it was missing quite early in the morning. I was holding a meeting in my office at the time with Julie and Sandra. Bert came bursting in, and blurted out what had happened. I trust them all to be discreet, so I don’t think news of this will leak from within these walls.”
“I’m going to need your permission to talk to those three members of staff.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sure they’ll be only too pleased to help.”
“And, I’ll need permission to explore all areas of the museum.”
“No problem. Except for the sealed room, of course.”
“Sealed room?”
“As I mentioned earlier, this museum was built on the site of Magna Mondale’s house. Over her lifetime, she developed many new and powerful spells, but she feared they might be used for evil, so she sealed them away to prevent that from happening. The original house was demolished to make way for this museum, which over the years has been extended. But the sealed room in the basement remains untouched from when it formed part of Magna’s house.”
“Has anyone ever been in that room?”
“Several people have tried, but no one has been able to overcome the spell which Magna herself cast to seal it.”
“Can I see it?”
“You can see the door to the room. You’ll find it in the basement.”
“Do you have any theories as to why the wand has been taken?”
“Nothing concrete. I suppose it’s possible someone may have done it for financial gain.”
“Does it have a monetary value?”
“Not on the open market. Anyone trying to sell it would be reported immediately. But on the black market, who knows? There are collectors who might jump at the chance of owning it.”
“Do you know of any?”
“Not by name, but I know they exist.”
“Okay, thanks. If it’s alright with you, I’ll take a look around now.”
I hadn’t gone far when I bumped into Bert Hee; an elderly wizard with greying hair who stooped a little when he walked.
“Hello, young lady. I understand you’re here to find our wand.”
“I’m going to do my best, Mr Hee.”
“Call me Bert—everyone does.”
“Okay, Bert. I’m Jill.”
“I know all about you. You’re Mirabel’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. Do you know her?”
“Oh yes. When she was young, she was quite the wild child.”
“Really? Tell me more.”
“Not likely.” He grinned. “Your grandmother would hunt me down, and do unspeakable things to me.”
He was probably right. Pity, I would have loved to have heard more about Grandma and her misspent youth.
“Can I ask you a few questions, Bert?”
“Of course, dear. I’ll be only too pleased to help if I can.”
“How long have you been doing this job?”
“Almost thirty years now.”
“Have there been many similar incidents during that time?”
“Not a single break-in all the time I’ve been here. But then there’s nothing of any real value in here. Lots of items have a ‘cultural’ value, but they’re not the sort of thing to attract the criminal element.”
“Did you hear or see anything unusual the night the wand went missing?”
“Nothing at all. It was just like any other night—just me and the shadows.” He hesitated. “There is one thing I probably ought to mention, though.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a bit of a confession, actually. If I tell you, will you promise not to tell Coral?”
“Of course.”
“The truth is, I fell asleep. It’s the first time I’ve ever done it in the thirty years I’ve worked here. It must have been around four a.m. I didn’t wake up until nine-thirty; I should have finished at seven o’clock. That’s when I discovered the wand was missing. You won’t tell Coral I fell asleep, will you?”
“No, I promise. Your secret is safe with me.”
***
On my way home, I dropped into the newsagent across the road from my flat, to pick up a bottle of ginger beer. Jasper James was behind the counter, wearing a purple fedora with the letters JJ on the front.
“Hello, Jill,” he said. “Did you decide to subscribe to P.I. Monthly?”
“I’m not going to bother, thanks. I did read it, but there wasn’t really anything new in it. It was all recycled stuff that I already know. I’ll just take the ginger beer, please.”
“I might have a magazine that you would be interested in.”
“I doubt it. I’m not really a big reader. I don’t have the time.”
“I think you’ll want to see this one.” He came from behind the counter, walked down the display of magazines, picked one out, and held it up for me to see.
“Custard Cream Quarterly? Wow! Yes, I’m definitely interested in that.”
“I thought you would be. Would you like me to put one aside for you once a quarter?”
“Yes, please. How much is it?”
“Eight pounds fifty.”
“How much?” I gasped.
“It’s rather a niche magazine.”
“I suppose so. Still, worth every penny.”
When I left, I spotted Mr Ivers walking across the road. He was obviously on his way to the newsagent, too.
“Hi there, Mr Ivers.”
“Hello.” He was stony-faced. His eyes looked glazed.
“Are you okay, Mr Ivers?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Have you seen any good movies this week?”
“No.”
“Right. Have you seen Tess recently?”
“Yes. Goodbye.” With that, he carried on walking.
Something wasn’t right. In fact, something was very wrong indeed. He looked like he’d been drugged.
This had to be Alicia’s doing.
Back in my flat, I couldn’t settle. I was concerned about Mr Ivers. He’d looked like a zombie, and I was worried that Alicia may have done to him what she’d once done to me. I needed help, and the only person I could turn to was Grandma. My magazine would just have to wait.
I drove back into town, and made my way to Ever A Wool Moment. Grandma was in the back office.
“Ah, Jill. I’m glad you called in. I wanted to let you know that The Candle intend to run an article on the Compass competition. You, me and the other team members will need to get together for a team photograph.”
“Okay, Grandma. But look—the reason I came to see you is that I’m rather worried about one of my neighbours, Mr Ivers.”
“Is he bothering you? Would you like me to turn him into a cockroach?”
“No.”
“A slug?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I think he might have been poisoned, and I think Alicia did it. She’s been posing as Tess again. He met her through the Love Spell dating agency. I’ve got a feeling she’s done to him what she did to me before the Elite competition. He’s really not himself, and he doesn’t look at all well.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I want you to help him.”
“Why? He’s only a human.”
“What do you mean, only a human? Humans are every bit as important as sups.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“My adoptive family are humans.”
“So?”
“Please, Grandma, I need you to help him like you helped me when I’d been poisoned.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“If you do this, I’ll owe you a favour.”
“I like the sound of that.” Her face lit up. “Come to think of it, my bunions have been playing up recently.”
Oh bum!
“So, will you help him?”
“I suppose so, as long as it doesn’t take too long.”
“We have to do it now—before it’s too late.”
“You’d better magic us over there, then.”
“Me? Magic both of us over there?”
“I don’t know where he lives, do I? Here—take my hand.”
Her bony fingers always gave me the creeps.
I cast the spell, and the next moment, the two of us were inside Mr Ivers’ flat. He was lying on the sofa, and looked totally zonked out. I waved my hand in front of his face, but there was no reaction at all.
“He’s a very plain-looking man, isn’t he?” Grandma said.
“Grandma—focus! Has he been poisoned?”
“Oh, yes. He’s definitely been poisoned. He’s under Alicia’s control. She’ll probably kill him when she’s had enough of him. Right, I’d better be getting back.”
“Hold on. We can’t leave him like this!”
“I thought you just wanted me to tell you what was the matter with him.”
“No, I want you to do something about it.”
“Very well. You’d better go and get me a cup of water.”
I went through to the kitchen, found a cup and filled it with cold water.
“There you go.”
She put it on the coffee table, and proceeded to take all manner of ingredients from somewhere inside her cardigan. Whatever they were, they smelled revolting. After she’d sprinkled them into the cup, she stirred the mixture.
“That should do it. Get him to drink all of that. He’ll be as right as rain within thirty minutes or so.”
“What about when Alicia comes back? Won’t she just do it to him again?”
“How very tiresome.” Grandma waved a hand, and I could tell that she’d cast a spell of some kind. “He’ll be okay now.”
“What was that spell you cast?”
“It’s the ‘wicked witch away’ spell. No wicked witch will be able to come within three metres of him from now on, so h
e’ll be perfectly safe.”
“What about me? Am I all right to stay here?”
“Are you wicked? Is there something you’re not telling me, Jill?”
“No, no, of course not.”
“Then you’ll be fine.”
Chapter 9
Winky was glued to the window. No, not literally—just how cruel do you think I am?
“Are you looking for Bella?”
“No. She’s at the cat grooming parlour today.”
“What’s so interesting out there, then? I hope you aren’t flirting with another cat.”
“If you must know, my brother is coming to stay.”
“When you say ‘stay’? Do you mean ‘visit’?”
“In case you haven’t already noticed, I have an extensive vocabulary. If I’d meant ‘visit’, I would have said ‘visit’. I meant he’s coming to stay.”
“What about me?”
“It’s okay—he won’t mind you being here. He’s used to witches.”
“I meant what about asking me if it’s okay? I might not want another cat in the office. Particularly if he’s as much trouble as you.”
“I’m no trouble. Anyway, Socks is nothing like me.”
“Socks? Is he called that because he has white paws?”
“No, it’s because he used to smell like old socks.”
“Great.”
“It’s okay. He’s grown out of it.”
“When is he coming?”
“Anytime now.”
“Is his owner bringing him over?”
“When are you going to get it, Jill? Cats don’t have owners. He’ll be arriving by microlight. Which reminds me—I’d better open this window.”
“Hold on! Are you trying to tell me that he’s going to land a microlight in this office?”
“That’s right. Socks is an expert when it comes to the microlight.”
The window was still open an hour later, but there was no sign of Winky’s aerobatic brother.
“Can we shut this window? I’m freezing.”
“No. Socks will be here any minute now.”
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea. It sounds really dangerous to me. Couldn’t he land somewhere close by—maybe in a field—and just walk from there?”
“You worry too much. My bro knows what he’s doing.”
