by Adele Abbott
“That’s not true, and anyway, what’s it got to do with you?”
“I’ve been hired by the people who have been cheated out of their money, to find out what’s going on.”
“Okay. I’m sorry I was a little short, but I’m as frustrated by this situation as all those who have lost money. This problem makes my job much more difficult because I’m having to recruit more and more ghosts, and as word about the non-payments spreads, that becomes more difficult.”
“Are you saying that the problem lies with the vampires who are running the human end of the operation?”
“I don’t know. I just know it isn’t me.”
“Have you confronted them?”
“Of course. They blame the customers who are using our services. They maintain that we’re not being paid by the humans.”
“Do you believe them?”
“I don’t know what to believe. I’m caught in the middle.”
“Someone, somewhere is stealing this money, and I intend to find out who it is.”
“Well, it isn’t me.”
“It had better not be because if it is, you’ll be seeing me again, and next time, I won’t be in such a good mood.”
***
I wasn’t sure I believed Toastmaster, but I had no proof that he was the one pocketing the money. According to him, the vampires blamed the human customers for non-payment. That simply didn’t ring true. While there might be a few bad payers, that alone wouldn’t account for the scale of the problem. I needed a different approach, and I had already come up with a plan, but before I could put it into action, I would need to get hold of the colonel. I tried phoning him, but my calls just rang out, so I popped back into Spooky Wooky, and asked the guys there to get the colonel to contact me the next time he came into their tea room.
I’d been so busy that I hadn’t yet got around to following up Anthony Coultard’s report about the starlight fairy wings. If what he’d said was true, I had to do something to put an end to that awful trade.
Back in Washbridge, I found the shop that Coultard had mentioned to me. Shiny Shiny was anything but. Grotty Grotty would have been a much more appropriate name. The small shop sold all manner of cheap jewellery and tacky trinkets. It didn’t take me long to spot the display of fairy wings.
“Lovely, aren’t they?” The old woman behind the counter had only two teeth: one in her top jaw, one in the bottom. “Real fairy wings, they are.” She cackled.
The woman wasn’t a witch, but she was more like the fairy tale version of one than any of the real ones I knew (except for Grandma, of course). The wording on the display read: ‘Real Fairy Wings’. The sad irony was that the humans who bought them would assume that was simply a marketing gimmick. As far as they were concerned, fairies weren’t real. Not for one moment would any of them realise that real fairies were being murdered for their wings.
“How much are the fairy wings?”
“Twenty pounds a pair. Three pairs for fifty quid.”
“I like these. The yellow and white marble-effect ones. Do you have any more like these in different colours?”
“Nah. That’s all we’ve got until our supplier comes again.”
“When will that be?”
“Next Tuesday.”
“What time?”
“He usually comes around eleven o’clock.”
“Okay, I’ll pop back after then.”
“Do you want to take the yellow ones for now?”
“I can’t. I don’t have enough money on me.”
***
My next port of call was WashBets.
“Hi, Tonya.”
“How do you know my name?”
“It’s on your badge. Just so you know, I don’t have a complaint, so I don’t need to see Bryan. I’m not Ryan’s girlfriend, but I would like to speak to him about Megan who is his girlfriend.”
I could almost see the cogs in her brain processing that information.
“So, you don’t have a complaint?”
“Correct.”
“And you aren’t Ryan’s girlfriend?”
“Also correct.”
“And you want to see Ryan about Megan who is his girlfriend?”
“Bingo!” It had taken me a while, but I’d finally solved the enigma that was Tonya.
“What’s your name?”
“Jill Gooder. I’m the one who got you and Norman together.”
“Who’s Norman?”
It had been going so well, too.
“Nice to see you, Jill.” Ryan greeted me with a smile. “You spend more time in here than a lot of our regulars.”
“Not through choice.”
“I assume there’s another problem.”
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I’m going to ask you a question, and I need an honest answer.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Have you tried to turn Megan?”
The look of outrage on his face told its own story. “No! I love her. I would never, ever do that. Why would you even think it?”
“She told me that she’s recently had the urge to bite someone’s neck—to taste their blood. She actually asked me if I thought she was turning into a vampire.”
“Are you being serious? This isn’t some kind of wind-up, is it?”
“I’m deadly serious, but I did try to calm Megan down by making it into a joke.”
“Did it work?”
“Yeah. Megan seemed to realise how ridiculous she was being. Or at least, how ridiculous she thought she was being.”
“It must be the synthetic blood,” he said.
“Could it have this effect?”
“I don’t know. It was never meant for human consumption.”
“I think you’re probably right.”
“I’ll have to find somewhere else to store it. I have friends who live in the same apartment block. I can get them to hold onto it for me until I come up with a more permanent solution.”
“What will you tell Megan when she asks why you aren’t drinking it any longer?”
“I’ll—err—I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you tell her that you’ve read a report that said the supplement caused side effects?”
“What kind of side effects?”
“I don’t know. Body odour, an increase of body hair, anything so long as it ensures she doesn’t press you to buy any more.”
“Okay. I’ll come up with something. Thanks again, Jill.”
“No problem.”
***
On the way back to my office, I walked past a small toy shop. Something in the window display caught my eye, so I nipped inside.
“How much are those?”
“The rubber-sucker dart guns?” The roly-poly man behind the counter took them out of the window. “Seven pounds.”
“Can’t I just buy one?”
“Sorry. They come in pairs.”
“Okay. I’ll take them.”
The outer office was still more jungle than workplace.
“Hello?” Mrs V shouted.
“It’s me. I’ll be with you in a moment.” Once again, I followed the right-hand path to her desk. “Did you get hold of Mr Greenfinger, and ask him to get these moved?”
“I have some bad news about that.”
“Oh?”
“It seems Rodney put his back out carrying all of these up here. He’s laid up in bed and can’t move. He apologised for going over the top, but couldn’t say when he’d be well enough to come and get them. I’m really sorry about this, Jill.”
“Me too.”
“I may be able to help,” Winky said, after I’d eventually fought my way through the foliage to my office.
“Help with what?”
“To get rid of all those plants out there.”
“Really? That would be great.”
“It’ll cost you, though.”
“Does
n’t it always? How much this time?”
“There’s an awful lot of them.”
“I can’t afford to pay very much.”
“Thirty pounds the lot.”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Deal. But you’d better leave a couple in there because I promised Mrs V could have some in the office.”
“Hand over the cash now, and the plants will be gone by Monday morning.”
“Okay.” I gave him the money. “You’d better not let me down.”
“My word is my bond.”
I took the toy guns out of my bag, and ripped open the packaging.
“Those won’t scare the bad guys.” Winky scoffed.
“They’re not supposed to. They’re to help me to practice for paintball.”
“I can give you lessons, if you like?”
“What do you know about guns?”
“I just happen to be an expert marksman.”
“Of course you are.” I slipped one of the guns into the drawer in my desk, and put the other back in my bag. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Your loss.”
“How did the choir competition go?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I take it you didn’t win?”
“We were disqualified.”
“Why?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“You might as well tell me. I won’t let up until you do.”
“If you must know, I failed the drug test.”
“They have drug tests at a choir competition?”
“Yes. There have been several cases of competitors using magic formulas to enhance their vocal chords.”
“How come you failed the test?”
“It must have been that stupid throat syrup. I had no idea that would cause me to test positive.”
“Didn’t you explain what had happened?”
“I tried to, but they wouldn’t listen. I’ve been banned for the next two years.”
“That’s very harsh.”
I tried to appear sympathetic, but inside I was celebrating the fact there would be no more ‘Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti, Do’.
Just then, the colonel appeared.
“Harry at Spooky Wooky told me you wanted a word.”
“Yes. Thanks for dropping by.”
“No problem. Cilla is having her nails done, so I was at a loose end anyway. What can I do for you?”
“I’m on the trail of some conmen, but I really need the use of a country house, and I wondered if there was any way I might be able to use your old place?”
“If it was up to me then I’d say ‘yes’ straightaway, but of course there’s the current owner to consider. Will you need it for long?”
“Not really. A couple of hours should do the trick, provided you can give me at least twenty-four hours’ notice.”
“Leave it with me. I’ll keep my ear to the ground. If I hear there’s going to be a suitable window, I’ll call you on the old blower.”
“Great! Thanks, Colonel.”
Chapter 15
There was shouting coming from the outer office:
“Hello? Anyone there?”
“Over here?”
“Where?”
“Follow the path.”
“Which one?”
“The one on the right.”
Oh boy!
It sounded like we had a visitor. If it was a potential client, what kind of first impression would they get from the jungle?
Mrs V came through to my office. “There’s a Mr Wragg out there. He says he’d like to see you, but I think he might be drunk.”
“Is he being rude or abusive?”
“No, nothing like that. He’s just rather unsteady on his feet; he keeps wobbling around.”
“Maybe he got disorientated having to find his way through the jungle?”
“I don’t think it’s that. Shall I tell him that you’re too busy to see him?”
“No. I can spare a few minutes. Show him in.”
Mrs V hadn’t been exaggerating. The man did indeed seem very unsteady on his feet; his whole body seemed to sway from side to side. He was dressed rather strangely too—in a long coat, which had a deep hood that hid his face.
“What can I do for you Mr Wragg?”
“Just a moment, please.”
He took off the hood, and threw open his coat, and then everything became clear. The reason he appeared to be unsteady on his feet was that Mr Wragg wasn’t a human. He was in fact a pixie. Or, to be precise, ten pixies, all standing on each other’s shoulders.
I was speechless.
What? It does happen occasionally.
“Okay, boys. Down you get.” The topmost pixie jumped down; the others followed his lead.
“I’m guessing you aren’t really Mr Wragg.” I addressed the pixie who had played the ‘head’.
“My name really is Wragg. Colin Wragg. I apologise for the subterfuge, but it’s the only way that we pixies are able to move around the human world unnoticed.”
“I understand, and I apologise for the jungle outside.”
“No problem. I should introduce my colleagues. From left to right, they are: Tommy, Arthur, Donny, Mark, Charlie, Gordon, Albert, Jimmy and Johnny.
“Hi, guys. I’m probably not going to remember all of your names. What can I do for you all?”
Colin stepped forward. He had obviously been nominated to head the delegation.
Head the delegation. Get it? Come on. What’s the point of my coming up with all of this good stuff if it’s going to go straight over your head?
“The king of the pixies has asked us to get in contact with you. He needs your services.”
“I’m honoured, but why me?”
“He heard of the excellent work you did in closing down the BeHuman operation, and wondered if you could help him.”
“With what exactly?”
“It’s a matter of some sensitivity that he’d prefer to discuss face-to-face. Would you be able to visit him at his palace?”
“Right now?”
“No. He has important business all day today. He was hoping you might be able to come over on Monday, if that’s convenient?”
“Certainly.”
***
Not long after Mr Wragg and the other nine pixies had left, I had a phone call from Grandma, asking me to go down to Ever.
“Was that man drunk?” Mrs V asked, as I was on my way out.
“No. Just a little unsteady on his feet.” All twenty of them. “I’m going down to Ever.”
“Ask your grandmother what she intends to do about our broken knitting needles, would you?”
“Will do.”
There was no sign of Kathy, but Maria was busy in the tea room. She looked stunning in her red trouser suit.
Okay, I’m lying. Those Everette outfits were truly awful.
“Hi, Maria.”
“You didn’t warn me about this.” She gestured to her outfit.
“Sorry. I had no idea this change was on the cards. Are you going to stick around?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t want to make any rash decisions until I’m over the initial shock.”
“What did Luther make of your outfit?”
“He thought it was sexy.”
“Really?”
“No, of course not. He couldn’t stop laughing. Did you want something to eat or drink, Jill?”
“No. I’m here to see Grandma.”
“When you warned me how bad she could be, I thought you were exaggerating.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know that now. This morning, she asked me if I knew anything about the treatment of bunions.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I just got out of her office as quickly as I could.”
“Very wise.”
Grandma was in her office, reading The Bugle.
“I didn’t know you read that rag.”
<
br /> “I don’t. I was just checking my horoscope.”
“You surely don’t believe in that rubbish? What does it say?”
“That a close relative is going to do the charitable thing, and come to work for me.”
“See. That just proves my point. Total garbage. What did you want to see me about?”
“I’ve worked out which kind of spell Ma Chivers has embedded into the free knitting needles. It’s a ‘mind control’ spell.”
“That sounds like bad news.”
“It is. When she activates it, she’ll be able to control all of those who have the knitting needles.”
“To what end?”
“That, I don’t know, but I doubt it will be anything good.”
“What about Mrs V and Jules? Will they be okay?”
“Yes, thanks to me. Breaking the needles, breaks the spell.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have to do. We have to break all of the needles.”
“That’s an ingenious plan. And how, exactly, are we going to track down everyone who has received a free pair of needles?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“Clearly not. The only way we can thwart her plan is to get her to take a spell-blocker potion.”
“How would that work?”
“It’s very complicated, but essentially it will stop her from activating the spell which she’s embedded into the needles. I can prepare the necessary potion, but then somehow we need to get Ma Chivers to drink it.”
“How long will it take you to prepare the potion?”
“It’s not something that can be done quickly. If I get onto it straightaway, I should have it finished by Monday.”
“That long? What if she decides to activate the ‘mind control’ spell before then?”
“We’ll just have to hope she doesn’t.”
“Okay. When the potion is ready, let me know, and I’ll make sure she drinks it.”
“How are you going to manage that?”
“Let me worry about that.”
***
I was ready for a drink and something to eat, so I magicked myself over to Cuppy C. Much to my surprise, Aunt Lucy was behind the counter.
