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 5

by Adele Abbott


  “Very good. What time is she coming in?”

  “At three-thirty.”

  “Well done, Lules.”

  “Thanks.” She beamed with obvious pride.

  Another new client, eh? The way things were shaping up, this was going to be a really profitable month. Luther would be proud of me.

  There were two other cats in my office.

  “Do you want the monthly plan or would you prefer to pay for the year?” Winky asked the first in line.

  “How much would I save with the annual plan?” The Siamese enquired.

  “It’s fifteen pounds per month or one-hundred and forty-four for the year. A saving of twenty percent.”

  The Siamese gave it some thought. “Just stick me down for the monthly.”

  Winky gave the Siamese a membership card, and then went on to serve the Burmese, who opted for the annual plan.

  “You’re heading for a fall,” I said, after the two cats had left via the window.

  “What are you banging on about now?”

  “I assume you’re still selling membership to Moonlight Gym?”

  “Yeah. What of it?”

  “I told you that the I-Sweat boys have had CCTV cameras installed. You’re going to get caught out.”

  “Let me worry about that. You worry about your own business.” He smirked. “If you can call it that.”

  I couldn’t understand how he could be so blasé. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned that his illegal gym operation might get busted. Why not? What did he know that I didn’t?

  While I waited for my new client to arrive, I busied myself re-reading the newspaper clippings related to the Angie Potts case.

  At three-thirty on the dot, I heard the outer door open—my new client, no doubt. Moments later, Lules came through to my office.

  “She’s here, Jill.”

  “Okay. Show her in.”

  “Just one thing. I must have misheard her name. It’s not Polly. It’s actually Lolly.”

  Oh no!

  “Jill!” Lolly Jolly burst into the room. “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

  “Lolly. It’s you.”

  “In the flesh. Can I get a drink? I’m parched.”

  “Sure. Tea? Coffee?”

  “Don’t you have any of the hard stuff?”

  “Sorry, no. It’s just tea or coffee, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll have coffee, then. Milk, no sugar.”

  “And I’ll have a tea, please, Lules.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Lolly,” I said, through gritted teeth, once Lules had brought our drinks.

  “It’s so great that we’ve all been reunited. I had a really good time with you and Kathy, the other day.”

  “So did we. I’d love to do it more often, but I’m always so busy. Kathy has lots of time on her hands, though. You should give her a call, sometime.”

  Revenge was so sweet. Snigger.

  “I’ll do that. Anyway, I wanted to see you because I need your professional help.”

  “Oh?”

  “I didn’t like to say anything before because I was embarrassed, but the real reason I moved back to Washbridge was to get away from my ex-boyfriend.”

  “What happened?”

  “The relationship didn’t work out, but he wouldn’t accept it. He started to follow me, and even turned up at my place of work a couple of times. In the end, I decided the best thing to do would be to move away from him altogether, so I came back home.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “The trouble is that he’s followed me. I’ve seen him a couple of times now. He hasn’t actually approached me, but it was definitely him. It’s kind of creeping me out.”

  “I’m not surprised. Have you thought of going to the police?”

  “The problem is that he’s originally from around here too, so before I can go to the police, I need proof that he came back with the intention of following me. That’s where you come in.”

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “Keep an eye on him. Follow him for a while to see what he does.”

  “How will I know him?”

  “His name is Nick Long. I can email you a photo of him. He’s renting a bedsit in Westcliff House. It’s a real dump.”

  “How do you know where he’s living?”

  “I—err—saw him coming out of the building.”

  “Are you sure he’s following you?”

  “Why else would he be up here?”

  “I normally ask for a retainer of three hundred pounds, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine.” She opened her handbag. “Oh, dash it. Wouldn’t you just know. I’ve left my purse at home. I’ll get the cash to you later, if that’s okay?”

  Thankfully, Lolly had an appointment with her hairdresser so she couldn’t stay long. What a piece of work she was. My chances of ever getting paid for working on her case were practically nil, but I had thought of a way to keep my costs to a minimum.

  “Winky, I have a job for your crew.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you remember? In return for me keeping silent on your Moonlight Gym scam, you promised that you’d make your crew available to carry out surveillance for me.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Do I really need to play back the conversation on the digital recorder?”

  “That won’t be necessary. What do you need them to do?”

  “I want them to keep an eye on Lolly Jolly’s boyfriend.”

  “Is that the ditsy woman who just left? The one with the bad taste in clothes?”

  “Yeah. Her boyfriend is living in Westcliff House. I’ll email you his photo as soon as she sends it to me. I want to know if he goes anywhere near Lolly.”

  “Okay. I’ll get my guys on it.”

  What about that for cost cutting? Luther would be proud of me.

  ***

  The outer door crashed open, and I heard Lules shout, ‘You can’t go in there!’.

  Moments later, Grandma came charging into my office.

  “Sorry, Jill,” Lules said. “I did try to stop her.”

  “It’s okay, Lules. I can take care of this.”

  “I think you’re losing the plot, Jill,” Grandma said.

  “Sorry?”

  “Even I know your PA is called Jules. You just called her Lules.”

  “That is Lules. Well, Lulu actually. She’s Jules’ sister.”

  “If you say so. Now, what do you know about YarnStormers?”

  Oh bum!

  “Who?”

  “I’ve heard on the woolvine that someone called YarnStormers is going to open a shop here in Washbridge. What do you know about it?”

  “Nothing,” I lied. “Why would I? I’ve never even heard of them.”

  “What good is it having a granddaughter as a P.I. if she doesn’t know anything?”

  “I’m not sure you understand what being a P.I. means.”

  “Apparently, it means not knowing information of vital importance to my business. You’d better do some sniffing around. If they do intend to move in on my territory, I need to be forewarned. And do you know why?”

  “Because forewarned is forearmed?”

  “Exactly. If they think they can muscle in on me, they have another think coming.”

  “Okay, Grandma. I’ll see if I can find out anything about them.”

  “While I’m here, there’s something else I wanted to speak to you about.”

  Oh goody.

  “There’s a sponsored bike ride in Candlefield on Sunday in aid of the Aged Witches Society.”

  “Are you a member of the Aged Witches whatsit?”

  “Do I look like an aged witch?”

  “Err—well—you are—err—”

  “I am what?”

  “Nothing. It sounds like a very good cause. Do you know someone who is taking part in it?”

  “Me, of course.” />
  “You?” I laughed. “Ride a bike?”

  “And, why wouldn’t I?”

  “Err—no reason, I guess. Sorry. I’d be delighted to sponsor you. Do you have the form with you?”

  “I didn’t come here to ask you to sponsor me.”

  “You didn’t? Then I’m confused.”

  “I came here to inform you that you’ll be my partner on Sunday.”

  “What do you mean? Partner?”

  “Didn’t I mention it? It’s a tandem bike ride.”

  “Me? Ride a bike? No way!”

  “But you said yourself that it’s for a good cause.”

  “That was before I knew you wanted to get me on a bike.”

  “I’ve put your name down already.”

  “I’m not fit enough to ride a bike for any distance.”

  “Your sister told me that you work out at the gym every day. That’s why I thought of you.”

  “She might have misunderstood what I said.”

  “That’s settled then. I’ll see you in Candlefield market square on Sunday at two pm. Don’t be late. And let me know as soon as you have the lowdown on YarnStormers.”

  As soon as she was out of the door, I made a call to Kathy.

  “Grandma knows about YarnStormers.”

  “What do you mean? Does she know they’ve offered me a job? You didn’t tell her, did you?”

  “Of course I didn’t. What do you take me for? She doesn’t know about your job offer, but she has heard that they may be opening a shop in Washbridge.”

  “What did she say about it?”

  “She wasn’t best pleased, as you can imagine. She wants me to find out what their plans are.”

  “Are you going to tell her that they’re moving in across the road?”

  “I’m not going to tell her anything. I’ll just act stupid, and make out that I couldn’t find any information.”

  “She’ll kill me if I decide to take the job.”

  “Still not made your mind up, then?”

  “Not yet. Hold on, I can see her coming down the street. I’d better go. Thanks for the tip-off.”

  ***

  All the way home, I was trying to figure out how I could get out of the sponsored tandem ride, but so far, I’d drawn a blank. There would be no point in feigning injury because even if I turned up with my leg in plaster, Grandma would still expect me to go ahead with it. It was a pity Jack wasn’t a sup; he’d definitely be up for taking part.

  I couldn’t pull onto my driveway because it was blocked by Bessie, Mr Hosey’s silly train. The man himself was standing next to it; he appeared to be having a shouting match with Mr Kilbride.

  “I can’t take any more!” Hosey yelled.

  “You knew what you were getting into!” Kilbride fired back.

  “Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be doing it all the time. It’s giving me a migraine.”

  “Either you honour the agreement, or I want my money back.”

  “You can whistle for that!”

  I thought for a moment that Kilbride was going to set about Mr Hosey, but instead he stormed off across the road, and disappeared into his house.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Jill.” Mr Hosey sighed. “There is no reasoning with that man.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “He insists on playing those stupid bagpipes every moment he’s on the train. There’s a limit to what a person can stand.”

  “He didn’t seem very happy.”

  “That’s his problem. I don’t mind him playing them say once a day. But I’m not prepared to listen to them morning, noon and night. Anyway, I’d better get Bessie out of your way.”

  Once he’d moved the train, I pulled onto the driveway. The bin was still at the front of the house because it had been emptied earlier that day. I wheeled it around the back, and was just about to let myself into the house when two terrifying creatures came around the corner. The giant ants were standing upright on two legs, and were coming straight at me. What kind of evil magic was this? Was Ma Chivers behind it?

  I had to act quickly or I’d be ant food.

  I cast the ‘smaller’ spell, and made them normal ant size. I was just about to stamp on them when I heard a squeak. It sounded like a tiny voice, and it was coming from one of the ants. I dropped down onto my knees, and listened.

  “Jill! Don’t stamp on us!” said the squeaky voice.

  “It’s us, Tony and Clare,” said the second squeaky voice.

  Oh no. I’d shrunk my cosplay-loving neighbours. And even worse, I’d almost squished them.

  “Help us, Jill!”

  I quickly reversed the ‘smaller’ spell, and then cast the ‘forget’ spell.

  “Hi, Tony. Hi, Clare. I like your costumes.”

  “Err—thanks. Sorry, I just went a little light-headed.” Tony shook his ant-head.

  “We’re going to AntCon this weekend,” Clare said. “Would you and Jack like to join us?”

  “We’d love to, but we’re already fully booked. Maybe next time.”

  Chapter 7

  I’d made myself scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast; Jack was still trying to decide between muesli and porridge.

  “We should get in some practice tonight,” he said.

  “Practice for what?”

  “The charity sports competition.”

  “I thought you said it was all just light-hearted fun.”

  “It is, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to win.”

  “Not everything has to be a competition.”

  “Do we have any sacks?”

  “No. Santa took them all.”

  “Pity. We could have practised the sack race.”

  “If you think I’m jumping up and down inside a sack, you have another think coming.”

  “We have eggs. If we hard-boil a couple, we could practise the egg and spoon race.”

  “In our back garden?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the neighbours will think we’ve lost our minds.”

  “Speaking of the neighbours.” Jack had finally opted for the porridge. “I forgot to mention last night that I saw Tony and Clare. They were dressed as ants. They looked kind of cool.”

  “Don’t you think it would be nice to have normal neighbours?”

  “Tony and Clare are okay. Apparently, it’s AntCon this Sunday. It’s a pity that we have the charity sports competition, or I would have liked to go.”

  “To AntCon? Why would you want to dress up as an ant?”

  “I must admit, I’d prefer to be a spider; they’re much cooler. I wonder if there’s a SpiderCon?”

  “Sadly, I suspect there probably is.”

  ***

  Not long after Jack had left for work, I had a phone call from Aunt Lucy.

  “I’m sorry to trouble you so early, Jill.”

  “That’s okay. Is something wrong?”

  “It’s Barry. He—err—well—err”

  “Is he ill? Has he been hurt?”

  “No, nothing like that. I don’t know what’s wrong with him; he won’t say. He seems really down, and he won’t go out in the garden. I know you’re busy, but if you could spare a few minutes, I thought you might be able to get him to talk to you about it.”

  “I’ll come straight over.”

  Aunt Lucy was right; Barry wasn’t his usual bubbly self. Normally when I went to visit, he was all over me. Today, though, he was curled up under the table in the dining room.

  “See what I mean?” Aunt Lucy whispered.

  “Yeah. It might be best if you let me talk to him alone.”

  “Okay. Good luck.”

  I got down on all-fours and crawled over to the table.

  “Hi, Barry.”

  “Hello.” He couldn’t have looked more sorry for himself if he’d tried.

  “What’s wrong, big guy?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on. I can see there’s something the matter. Aren�
��t you feeling well?”

  “I feel okay.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “You’ll laugh.”

  “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

  “Do you swear on your blueberry muffins?”

  Sheesh, even the dog was at it now. “Yes, I swear on my blueberry muffins that I won’t laugh.”

  “A cat is being nasty to me.”

  “A cat?” I almost laughed, but managed to check myself just in time. “What do you mean by nasty?”

  “Every time I go out into the garden, he attacks me. Last time I went out there, he scratched me on my nose.” Barry pointed with his paw.

  It was only when I got up close that I could see the minutest of scratches. “That looks sore.”

  “It is. He’s really mean, and I didn’t do anything. I just wanted to be his friend.”

  “Do you know where he lives?”

  “In one of the gardens that backs onto this house.”

  “Will you show me?”

  Barry got to his feet, walked over to the window, and jumped up so his two front paws were on the window sill. “That house there.”

  “And you say he comes after you every time you go into the garden?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to go out there again.”

  “What colour is this cat?”

  “Ginger with a white face.”

  “Okay, Barry. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Aunt Lucy was waiting outside the door.

  I gestured that we should go through to the kitchen.

  “He’s being bullied.”

  “Who by?”

  “The cat who lives in the house behind yours.”

  “By a cat?”

  “I know. You’d think that big lump would be able to look after himself, but he’s clearly terrified.”

  “What can we do?”

  “I’m going to sort it out. You wait here.”

  I opened the back door, but before stepping out, I cast a spell to turn myself into a Barry lookalike. It was kind of freaky to find myself inside the body of a big, soft dog. Could I bark, I wondered? I gave it a try, and sure enough, I was barking like a good ‘un. So much so that a couple of dogs in the neighbourhood barked back at me. But it wasn’t other dogs I was interested in. I had an appointment with a bully of a cat.

 

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