Witch Is Why The Owl Returned (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 21)

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Witch Is Why The Owl Returned (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 21) Page 4

by Adele Abbott


  “I can’t see any way to open it.”

  “You won’t. It’s been sealed by magic.”

  “Do you know how to open it?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Sorry. I don’t follow.”

  “I know the spell required to open a locket such as this, but I doubt my magic is strong enough to do the trick. The only other one I’ve seen was opened by one of the most powerful wizards in Candlefield—he’s long dead now.”

  “If you can show me the spell, I might be able to open it.”

  “Hmm? I think that’s unlikely.”

  “I’d like to try.”

  “Wait here, then. It might take me a few minutes to find it.” He disappeared into the back of the shop.

  While he was gone, I took a look around. There were some beautiful pieces. One ring in particular caught my eye, but the price was eye-watering. Maybe I should ask Jack to buy it for me to celebrate our ‘anniversary’.

  “Here you are.” He reappeared clutching several sheets of paper. “I was beginning to think I might have thrown it away by mistake.”

  “Thank you.” I began to study the spell.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Jill. Jill Gooder.”

  “Oh my. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—err—that’s to say—I had no idea. In that case, you should be able to open it if anyone can.”

  I focussed on the locket and cast the spell.

  “You did it!” Ant exclaimed. “Do you know them?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Inside the locket was a picture of a man with red hair and a red beard, and a young woman with long, dark hair. It was the same woman who appeared in the portrait that Desdemona Nightowl had given to me.

  “They’re not relatives of yours, then?”

  “No. I have no idea who they are, but I intend to find out.”

  Chapter 5

  As I was already near to the high street, I decided to pay a visit to WashBets. If anyone was keeping a check on me, they would probably think I had some kind of gambling addiction because I seemed to spend almost as much time in there as in my own office.

  Tonya (AKA the mathematical genius) was behind the counter again, looking even more dead inside than usual.

  “I’d like to speak to Ryan, please.”

  “If it’s a complaint, you need to speak to his assistant, Bryan.”

  “Don’t you remember me?”

  “Are you his girlfriend?”

  This was becoming more and more like Groundhog Day.

  “I’m not his girlfriend. I need to speak to him about Megan.”

  “Is that you?”

  “No. That’s his girlfriend.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t his girlfriend?”

  “I’m not, and I wasn’t the other two times I was in here. Please just tell him that Jill is here to talk to him about Megan.”

  “Does he have two girlfriends now?”

  Beam me up, someone, please.

  “Hi, Jill.” Ryan greeted me when I’d finally managed to get past the enigma that was Tonya.

  “I can’t keep doing this, Ryan. That woman is slowly wearing me down.”

  “Who? Megan?”

  “No, not Megan. Tonya. She’s driving me potty.”

  “Is Megan okay?”

  “Not really. She’s freaked out by the bottles of red liquid in your fridge.”

  “Oh no.” He put his hand to his mouth.

  “Oh yes. What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t. It never occurred to me that she might look in there. I thought it was strange when she rushed off the other day.”

  “Megan told me she thought it was blood.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told her you must be a vampire.”

  “You did what?” He looked horrified.

  “Relax. She thought I was joking. What did you expect?”

  “I’ll hide the bottles.”

  “It’s too late for that. She’s already seen them. You’ll have to come up with some kind of explanation before you see her next.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Tell her it’s an iron supplement that you have to take.”

  “Do you think she’ll buy that?”

  “I don’t see why not. I can’t think of anything better.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that. Thanks, Jill.”

  “Please make sure you don’t do any more stupid things, like turning into a bat in front of her. I don’t think I could bear another session with the Tonya-bot.”

  ***

  I’d read through all the newspaper clippings in the box file that Sophie Brownling had left with me. The articles, which had been published at the time of her daughter’s disappearance, all pretty much mirrored one another: Four girls had gone out to celebrate a birthday; only three had made it back home.

  Following an appeal on local TV by Sophie Brownling and her husband, there had been several apparent ‘sightings’ of Angie, but they had all come to nothing. In the years that followed, the number of newspaper articles had gradually decreased. The only stories that had appeared in the press during the last few years had been small articles published on the anniversary of Angie’s disappearance.

  The internet offered little by way of additional information because Net usage was much less back then than it is today. Unlike now, there was precious little social media to jump on every story.

  My next port of call was Washbridge Library. Maybe there would be other articles in the newspaper archives that might help.

  “Is Mad in?” I asked the grim-faced woman behind reception.

  “Who?”

  “Madeline Lane?”

  “Oh, her? Yes, she’s on a break. Again.”

  “Any idea where I’ll find her?”

  “She usually goes into the garden around the back. If she’s there, remind her that her break finished ten minutes ago, would you?”

  “Sure.”

  Mad was lying on a bench next to the rose beds, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she was fast asleep.

  “Wakey, wakey!”

  She jumped so much that she almost tumbled off the bench.

  “Jill? You scared me to death.”

  “Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep.”

  She checked her watch. “Oh no. I’m in trouble.”

  “The woman on reception said I should tell you that your break finished ten minutes ago.”

  “That’s Rhoda. She’s my new boss, and a real battle-axe. I’m telling you, Jill, I’ve just about had it with this place.”

  “Are you thinking of packing in the library job?”

  “It isn’t just the library. I’m fed up with Washbridge. There’s nothing to do; the nightlife is practically non-existent.”

  “I thought you had no option but to stay here?”

  “That was true when I first took the ghost hunting job, but I have more experience now, so I get a bit more say in what I do. I’ve applied for a post in London. If I get it, I’ll be able to tell them what to do with their library job.”

  “I’d be sorry to see you go.”

  “You could come and visit me. We could have some cracking nights out down there.”

  “I’m a bit old for all that.”

  “Don’t be soft. You’re not past it quite yet.”

  Quite?

  “When will you know if you’ve got the new job?”

  “It’ll be a while yet. Do me a favour, would you? Don’t mention any of this to my mum if you see her.”

  “Deli won’t be very happy if you leave Washbridge.”

  “She and Nails are one of the reasons that I have to get out of this place.”

  “Are they still together?”

  “Yeah, but for how long is anybody’s guess. He’s driving everyone batty with those bottle tops.”

  “Is he still going to the Toppers Anonymous meetings?”

  “Yeah. He daren’t pack those in,
or Mum would kick him out again. That doesn’t stop him from rattling on all day about the bottle tops he already owns. It drives me mad; I just want to get in his face and shout: No one cares! They’re just bottle tops!”

  Mad may not have liked her job in the library, but she was a whizz with the microfiche. It was just as well because I never had got to grips with those infernal machines.

  We found numerous articles on Angie’s disappearance, but they were the same ones I’d already read from the clippings provided by Sophie Brownling.

  “Have you seen this article?” Mad pointed to the screen.

  I hadn’t, but that was because the article related to the abduction and murder of a young woman named Patty Lake. That had taken place about nine months after Angie Potts had disappeared. A man named Conrad Landers had been arrested and charged with her murder. The reason Mad had pointed it out was because the last line of the article suggested that the police were going to question him about Angie Potts’ disappearance too.

  “Interesting.” I turned to Mad. “Are you okay to help me for a little longer?”

  “Sure. Anything to save me from Rhoda.”

  “Let’s see what else we can find out about the Patty Lake case.”

  And that’s what we did for the next forty minutes. Nothing came of Conrad Landers’ supposed connection to the Angie Potts disappearance. He was eventually convicted of the murder of Patty Lake, and sentenced to life imprisonment. According to an article that covered the trial, he was still protesting his innocence as he was taken out of court to begin his sentence.

  “Thanks Mad. I appreciate the help.”

  “No problem. Do you have to rush off?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “I thought we could nip over to GT, and grab a coffee in Spooky Wooky.”

  “What about your boss?”

  “She’s not invited.”

  ***

  Harry and Larry were behind the counter in Spooky Wooky.

  “If it isn’t two of our favourite ladies,” Harry greeted us. “I know Jill will want a blueberry muffin, but what about you, Mad?”

  “I’ll have the same. And a cup of green tea, please.”

  “Green tea?” I gave Mad a sour look. “Since when did you drink green tea?”

  “I love it. I can’t get enough of the stuff.”

  Freak!

  “I’ll have a caramel latte, please, Harry.”

  “Why don’t you ladies find a table, and I’ll bring it over?”

  “I don’t receive this kind of service in Cuppy C,” I said, as we took a seat at a table next to the jukebox.

  “This isn’t the norm. It must be because you’re GT’s new celebrity.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. You’re the talk of Ghost Town.”

  “Great! That’s just what I need.”

  Mad and I chatted for a while, and were just about to leave when Harry and Larry approached our table.

  “Could we have a word before you go, Jill?” Larry said.

  “Sure.”

  “I’d better make tracks.” Mad stood up. “Good luck with the missing person case, Jill.”

  “Thanks. Keep me posted on the London situation.”

  “Will do.”

  Harry and Larry took a seat at my table. A young man with curly ginger hair was now holding the fort behind the counter.

  “Thanks for sparing us some time,” Harry said. “We know how busy you are.”

  “No problem. What’s on your mind?”

  “Before we opened Spooky Wooky, we used to run a small bakery in the human world. Until the fire, that is.”

  “So I heard.”

  “Did you also hear that foul play was involved?”

  “Yes. Constance mentioned that it may have been arson.”

  “There’s no ‘may’ about it.” Larry jumped in. “It was murder—plain and simple.”

  “Did they ever get anyone?”

  “The police?” Harry scoffed. “Those useless idiots didn’t do a thing. They said it was an accident.”

  “Could it have been?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have done it?”

  “More than an idea,” Harry said. “We know exactly who did it. It was Stewey Dewey. He was one of our competitors. Once we were out of the way, there was nothing to stop him from taking all of our customers.”

  “Where was your bakery?”

  “In Washbridge. Do you know Deerstalker Lane?”

  “Is that near the hospital?”

  “Yes. Just down the road from there.”

  “What exactly would you like me to do?”

  “We want justice, Jill,” Harry said. “We want Dewey behind bars. Will you help us?”

  “How long ago was the fire?”

  “Five years now.”

  “It might be difficult after all that time, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you.” Harry leaned over and gave me a hug.

  “I know this is a little cheeky,” Larry said. “But could we ask another small favour?”

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re always on the lookout for ways to improve this place, but we’ve kind of lost touch with what’s going on in the human world. We thought you might have some ideas that we could use?”

  “Not really, but what might help would be for you to come and see my favourite coffee shop in Washbridge. It’s called Coffee Triangle, and they have some pretty unusual ideas.”

  “That would be great,” Harry said.

  “Why don’t you both join me the next time I go there. You can take a look around, and see if anything inspires you?”

  “That sounds like a plan.”

  While I’d been talking to Harry and Larry, the colonel and Priscilla had taken a table nearby.

  “Hello, you two. I didn’t expect to see you here in GT.”

  “We could say the same about you.” The colonel grinned. “Won’t you join us? I’ll get you a drink.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ve already been here much longer than I intended. How are things at the house?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “You don’t sound very sure. Are you having problems again?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s just that we’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven’t we, Cilla?”

  She nodded. “Briggsy and I have decided that it’s wrong for us to cling onto the human world.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to vacate the house, and move to GT?”

  “Goodness, no,” the colonel said. “Not completely. We’re going to look for somewhere to live over here. That way we’ll be able to split our time between the house and GT.”

  “I see. Have you found anywhere suitable?”

  “No, but then we haven’t told you all of our plans yet.”

  “Go on.”

  “Neither of us likes the idea of kicking our heels all day long. We thought we might like to run a small business of some kind—a shop or maybe even a tea room like this one. Ideally, we’d like to find one with living accommodation included.”

  “I can see you’ve given this a lot of thought. It all sounds very exciting.”

  “We think so.”

  “Well, good luck with it all. Keep me posted on how you get on.”

  As soon as I stepped out of the coffee shop, I heard raised voices—voices that I recognised. A few yards down the street, my mother and father were going at it hammer and tongs.

  “Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” my mother yelled.

  “You can believe whatever you want. You usually do!”

  “Hey, you two!” I stood in between them before they came to blows. “What’s going on?”

  “Ask this thief.” My mother was red in the face, and clearly ready to set about my father.

  “I haven’t stolen anything. I’ve told you a thousand times that I didn’t put them there.”
<
br />   “Pull the other one!”

  “Whoa! Stop it, both of you. Mum, will you please tell me what this is all about?”

  “I’ll be glad to. This morning when we got up, Alberto noticed that two of his garden gnomes were missing. Your father has always taken great pleasure in mocking Alberto’s collection, so I suspected he might have something to do with it. And sure enough, where did I find them? Behind his garden shed.” She pointed an accusatory finger.

  “I’ve told your mother that I didn’t put them there.”

  “I suppose they walked there by themselves, did they?”

  “Mum! Let Dad have his say.”

  “Thank you, Jill. As I was trying to say, the first I knew about it was when your mother came hammering on our door.”

  “Seriously? Is that the best you can come up with?” She turned to me. “You’re a P.I, Jill. You must recognise a cock-and-bull story when you hear one?”

  “The first thing I learned in this business was never to jump to conclusions.”

  “Absolutely.” My father grinned.

  My mother scowled but said nothing.

  “If you two will promise to call a truce, I will undertake to find out what really happened. If I discover Dad was behind this, then you can give him what for, and I won’t stand in your way. But if I discover Dad wasn’t responsible, then you’ll have to apologise to him. Do you both agree?”

  “I agree.” My father grinned.

  My mother mumbled something under her breath.

  “Mum?”

  “Okay, but it’s a waste of your time. You’re bound to find out he did it.”

  “Mum!”

  “Okay. I agree.”

  Chapter 6

  When I got back to the office, Lules was looking very pleased with herself.

  “Is everything okay, Lules? Any messages?”

  “Everything’s fine. There was just one phone call. Someone wanted to make an appointment to see you this afternoon. I checked your diary, and could see you were free, so I’ve booked her in.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I’m not absolutely sure because the line wasn’t very good, but I think she said her name was Polly.”

  “And did Polly say what it was about?”

  “She said she had a job for you. That’s good, isn’t it?”

 

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