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

by Adele Abbott

  “I will.”

  “Don’t forget to come and watch me on Sunday, Auntie Jill,” Mikey shouted, as I was leaving.

  “Don’t worry, Mikey,” Kathy said. “I’ve just sent a text to Uncle Jack. Just in case Auntie Jill should forget.”

  “You’re so trusting, Kathy.”

  And before you ask, yes, I did do the washing up, but only because Peter wasn’t buying any of my nonsense excuses.

  Chapter 10

  Jack was hovering over the pan, waiting for the egg to boil.

  “Is that all you’re having for breakfast? A boiled egg?”

  “I had my breakfast earlier while you were still in the land of nod.”

  “What’s with the egg, then?”

  “I’m going to get in some practice.”

  “For what?”

  “The egg and spoon race, of course.” He scooped the egg out of the pan.

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Why would I be joking? I have to give myself the best possible chance of winning.”

  “Didn’t you say this is supposed to be a fun day?”

  “It is, but that’s no reason not to take it seriously.”

  Huh?

  He started for the back door. “Why don’t you come out after you’ve finished your breakfast? You can practise too.”

  “I’d like to, but there’s a reason why I can’t.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not totally insane.”

  “Okay, but don’t blame me if you drop your egg on Saturday.”

  I watched him through the kitchen window, as he ran up and down the garden, egg and spoon in hand. I considered videoing him, but if I showed it to anyone, chances are they would think I was the crazy one. I did live with this man, after all.

  Twenty-minutes later, red-faced, he came back into the house.

  “I’ve mastered it,” he said, proudly.

  “That’s great.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Now I just have to figure out how to get my hands on a sack.” He cracked open the egg.

  “Are you going to eat that now?”

  “Why not? It seems a shame to let it go to waste. It’s promising to be a great weekend what with the charity sports competition and the fishing competition.”

  “We’re not actually going to the fishing thing, are we?”

  “You promised Mikey.”

  “I know, but it will be deadly dull. I could always send word that I have to work on a case.”

  “We’re both going. I gave Kathy my word. Which reminds me, I hear you managed to get her to make dinner for you last night.”

  “I hadn’t planned to, but she begged me to go over there. I could hardly say no, could I?”

  “That’s not quite the way Kathy told it.”

  Jack left for work before I did. As soon as I stepped out of the door, I heard the sound of Mr Hosey’s train, chugging down the road. When he pulled up in front of my house, he didn’t look happy.

  But Bessie certainly did.

  “I like what you did with Bessie,” I said, as he stepped down from the engine.

  “I didn’t do it. And, I most certainly don’t like it!”

  Oh dear. Someone had drawn a big smiley face on the front of the engine.

  “Who did it, then?”

  “I found her like that this morning, and I have a pretty good idea who was behind it.” He glared across the road at Mr Kilbride’s house. “You’re a detective, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  “Can you find out if he did it?”

  “I’d like to help, Mr Hosey, but I have a strict policy of not taking on cases for neighbours. It can lead to bad feeling.”

  Just then, I spotted Megan coming out of her door—that was just the excuse I needed to extricate myself from Hosey.

  “Megan, hi. I was hoping I’d see you. Sorry, Mr Hosey, there’s something I need to talk to Megan about.”

  He huffed and puffed, and made his way back to Bessie.

  “What did you want, Jill?” Megan said.

  “Nothing, actually. I was just trying to get away from Mr Hosey.”

  “Oh, right. I like what he’s done to his train.”

  “He didn’t do it. It was sabotage, apparently, and he suspects Mr Kilbride.”

  “The guy with the bagpipes?”

  “Yeah. There’s bad blood between them.”

  “I had no idea there was so much intrigue on the street.”

  “Trust me, you don’t know the half of it. Come to think of it, I do have something to tell you, and I think you’re going to be pleased.”

  “Oh?”

  Peter has more work on than he can cope with; he was thinking of sending some of it your way, if you’re interested?”

  “Really? That would be fantastic. I’m flattered he would think of me.”

  “He figures he owes you one for what you did on the Washbridge House contract.”

  “Tell him that I’d be grateful for any work he can put my way.”

  “Great. I’ll let him know. Oh, and one more thing. He said to be wary of that cheap supplier of garden gnomes. Apparently, someone contacted Peter about them too, but he reckons they sound a bit dodgy.”

  “I wonder if it’s the same guy. To be fair, the ones I’ve bought to-date have been okay.”

  “Maybe it’s not the same person, then. Anyway, just bear it in mind.”

  “I will. Thanks, Jill. Oh, and by the way, that thing with Ryan is all sorted.”

  “What thing?”

  “You remember. The bottles of red liquid I found in his fridge.”

  “Oh yeah. What was it?”

  “It turns out that it’s just an iron supplement.”

  “I’m glad that’s all sorted.”

  “Yeah. We’re good now. In fact, I tried some of it myself. I’ve been feeling a little tired lately, so I figured an iron supplement might help.”

  Oh bum! “How was it?”

  “Okay, although it did have a weird taste.”

  ***

  I was just about to set off for work when my phone beeped to indicate I had a message. Probably Jack, all excited because he’d found a sack.

  It was actually from Grandma.

  Drop into Ever on your way into work. I have something to show you.

  That familiar feeling of dread resurfaced. Whatever she wanted to show me was unlikely to be good, but what choice did I have?

  The shop wasn’t actually open when I got there, so I knocked on the door. And then again, and again. I was beginning to think she’d gone out when she appeared, red-faced.

  “Haven’t you heard of the word patience?” She opened the door to let me in.

  “I didn’t think you were here.”

  “I was downstairs; that’s why it took me so long.”

  “Sorry. You said there was something you wanted to show me.”

  “Indeed, I do. You should feel very honoured to be the first person to see Ever’s new offering.”

  “Which is?”

  “Follow me, and you’ll see.”

  She led the way downstairs, into what had been a storage area the last time I’d been down there.

  “Can’t you switch on the light, Grandma? It’s very dark down here.”

  “Patience. Three, two, one.” She threw the light switch.

  I was speechless.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  “It’s—err—it looks like—err—is it what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s a ballroom, then you’d be right. Isn’t it marvellous?”

  It really was. The polished wooden dance floor was much bigger than I remembered the basement being. Marble topped tables bordered the dance floor, and above our heads was a huge mirror ball.

  “So?” She waltzed onto the dance floor. “Isn’t it absolutely stupendous?”

 
; “Yes, but what’s it for?”

  “Sometimes, I truly despair of you, Jill. What do you think it’s for? To raise chickens on?”

  “I get that it’s for dancing, but what does that have to do with knitting?”

  “Precisely nothing, but then you probably think that Ever is a wool shop.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Ever is a destination. It’s true that you can buy yarn at Ever, but you can also come here to take afternoon tea, or for a cocktail on the sun terrace. And now, you can come here to dance too. What could be better?”

  Just when I thought Grandma couldn’t surprise me ever again, she managed to do it.

  “I’m very impressed. Have you shown it to Kathy?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to show my darling granddaughter first.”

  “I’m honoured.” But very suspicious.

  “It’s not all good news, though.” She sighed.

  I knew it. Here we go.

  “I’ve discovered that YarnStormers have taken that vacant building just up the road. I had hoped that you would have come up with some info on them by now.”

  “I tried, but I drew a blank.”

  “And people actually pay you to do this stuff, do they?”

  As soon as I was outside the shop, I called Kathy.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “No, you can’t back out of coming to the fishing competition. You promised Mikey.”

  “I’m not calling about that. Jack wouldn’t let me back out even if I wanted to. I’m calling because I know what Grandma has been up to in the basement at Ever.”

  “What?”

  “She’s got a ballroom down there.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. I’ve just seen it; there’s even a mirror ball.”

  “How come she’s shown you, but I’m still in the dark?”

  “Because I’m her favourite granddaughter.”

  “Why a dance floor?”

  “Because, and I quote, ‘Ever is not just a wool shop, it’s a destination’.”

  “What a complete load of—”

  “I know, but that’s what she reckons. Anyway, you’ll be able to see it for yourself when you go in later.”

  “It’s my day off today.”

  “Tomorrow, then. Anyway, I have to go, but I thought you’d like to know.”

  “Thanks, Jill.”

  I’d only gone a few yards when I bumped into Norman, who presumably was on his way to Top Of The World.

  “Morning, Norman.”

  Cue compulsory pause until the words had registered.

  “Oh? Morning, err—?”

  “Jill.”

  “Jill, that’s it. Was it you who told me about WashBets?”

  “I did indeed. Did you find time to drop in there?”

  “Yeah. I went in a few days ago.”

  “Did you place a bet?”

  “No, but I got talking to this really nice woman.”

  “Her name wouldn’t be Tonya, would it?”

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  “We really hit it off.”

  No surprises there. Kindred spirits, if ever I’d seen them.

  “Are you going to take her out?”

  “Yeah. The trouble is, I can’t remember where I said I’d meet her. Or when.”

  Oh boy!

  When I walked into the office, Jules was on her phone.

  “It’s not my fault. What do you expect me to do about it? Please yourself.” She stabbed the screen with her finger, to end the call. “Sorry about that, Jill. Gilbert is doing my head in.”

  “What’s he done now?”

  “He’s cheesed off because he can’t get hold of tickets for ToppersCon. He keeps moaning to me about it. I don’t know what he expects me to do.”

  “Are you telling me that stupid thing is sold out?”

  “Unbelievable, isn’t it? Who would have thought there would be so many idiots interested in bottle tops?” She picked up a note from her desk. “Annabel left this for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  It was a reminder that I’d promised to check with Daze to see if Mrs V could take a look around the old sock factory. I’d forgotten all about it.

  “Rich, rich, I’m going to be rich.” Winky was singing to himself when I went through to my office.

  “You sound pleased with life.”

  “I’ve had a few brilliant ideas in my time, as you are no doubt aware.”

  “Modest, as always.”

  “No sense in false modesty. Of all my brilliant ideas, I think my new app tops the lot. It’s going to make me very rich.”

  “I’m so very pleased for you.”

  “You should be. You get a five percent cut.”

  “Twenty, I think you’ll find.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Digital recorder. Need I say more?”

  “I hate that contraption. Okay. Twenty percent.”

  I made a call.

  “Daze, I’m after a favour.”

  “Go on.”

  “Mrs V, my PA, has been doing some research into her family tree, and she’s discovered that she’s related to the guy who used to own the old sock factory. I happened to mention that I knew someone who lived in the apartments in that building, and Mrs V wondered if there was any way that she could take a look inside. She just wants to get a feel for the history of the place.”

  “She can come and look around the communal areas, and I can ask Haze if it’s okay for her to come into our apartment, if you like?”

  “That sounds great. Will you get back to me?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  Chapter 11

  I wanted a closer look at Winky’s app, so I used it to search for holiday accommodation in the Washbridge area for the following week. A number of properties were displayed, with filters available to narrow down the search results. After filtering the search to show ‘houses only’, the number of listings displayed was reduced to just six. Once again, the most notable thing was just how cheap the rental price was. I could not figure out how he was doing it. As I studied the listings in more detail, I recognised one of the properties; it was a house a few doors down from where Kathy lived. When I got the chance, I would ask her if she knew the people who lived there.

  ***

  I had the last known address of Karen Prestwick, one of the women who had been with Angie Potts on the night she disappeared.

  Wash Meadows was a picturesque village on the outskirts of Washbridge. There was a pond, complete with ducks, in the centre of the village green. The address I was looking for turned out to be a small thatched cottage that faced onto the green. Given the location, the property had to be worth a fortune.

  I knocked using the ornate brass doorknocker.

  “Hello?” The woman who answered the door had a vase in one hand, and a duster in the other. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Karen Prestwick. Does she still live here?”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator.”

  “What do you want with Karen? I’m her mother.”

  “I’ve been hired by Sophie Brownling to investigate the disappearance of her daughter, Angie Potts.”

  “After all this time? What does she expect to find?”

  “She’s just hoping to get some kind of closure. Being a mother yourself, I’m sure you can understand that.”

  “Of course, but I’m not sure how Karen can help.”

  “I’m hoping to speak to all of those who were with Angie that night. Would you give me Karen’s address?”

  “It took her a long time to get over this. I don’t want you to reopen old wounds.”

  “It would only be a few questions. Think how you would feel if it was Karen who had gone missing that night.”

  She was silent for the longest moment, but then she nodded. “Okay. Karen’s name isn’t Prestwick now;
it’s Jones. Wait there, and I’ll jot down her address and phone number for you.”

  Not only did Mrs Prestwick give me her daughter’s address, but she actually rang ahead and spoke to her. Fortunately, her daughter was more than willing to talk to me, and better still, said that I could go straight over.

  Karen’s home could not have been a bigger contrast to her mother’s. She lived in an apartment block in the centre of Washbridge.

  “Jill? Come on in. I’m sorry about the mess.”

  She wasn’t kidding. The place wasn’t dirty, but it looked as though someone had tipped it upside down and shaken it. There was stuff everywhere.

  “Take a seat, if you can find one.”

  We were in the living room. I had to move a pile of clothes off the chair in order to sit on it. Karen sat cross-legged on the floor.

  “It’s a bit different to my mum’s place, eh?”

  “She has a lovely cottage.”

  “Lovely, but not lived in. I never felt I could breathe in there. I was too scared of leaving finger marks on something. Let me guess, was she cleaning when you went to see her?”

  “How did you know?”

  “She always is. It’s her hobby.”

  “I take it your mum told you what this was about?”

  “Yeah. I’m really surprised Angie’s mum has decided to do something after all this time.”

  “Is it something you still think about?”

  “Of course. I think I always will. It had a profound effect on me that lasted for a very long time. I don’t get upset any more, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still wonder what happened that night.”

  “What kind of person was Angie?”

  “She was the quietest one of the group.”

  “Had you known her long?”

  “Only for a few years. Michelle and I met her at college. Susan Bowles had known Angie since they were kids. She always reckoned that Angie had been much more happy-go-lucky before her father died.”

  “Did Angie ever talk about her stepfather?”

  “Not much, but it was pretty obvious that they didn’t get along.”

  “On the night she disappeared, did you notice anything unusual about Angie?”