Witch Is Why The Music Stopped (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 19)

by Adele Abbott

  ***

  It was Jules’ day off. Mrs V was looking decidedly green around the gills.

  “Morning, Mrs V. Did you have a good day yesterday?” I already knew the answer.

  “No, I didn’t. I’ve never been so ill.”

  “Sea sickness?”

  “It was blowing a gale out there. The boat was going up and down, up and down. I thought I was going to die.”

  “How was Armi?”

  “He was perfectly fine. He even ate a meal with the crew.”

  “I don’t imagine you could face it?”

  “I just wanted to die. If he ever suggests another boat trip, I’ll kill him.”

  “Did you get it?” Winky was waiting for me just inside the door to my office.

  “What?”

  “You know what. My lottery cash. You promised you’d get it this morning.”

  “And I did try, but the terminals in the shop were down. Some kind of network problem, apparently. But I did get you a tin of your favourite red salmon.”

  “You’ll have to try again, later.”

  “Of course. No problem.”

  I couldn’t for the life of me think how the ticket could have dropped out of my bag, but it must have. Maybe it was in the car. But what if I’d dropped it on the street? I had to find it, or Winky would never forgive me.

  “Jill, there’s a man to see you.” Mrs V still looked quite ill. “He says he’s a—” She put a hand over her mouth for a moment, but then continued. “A fisherman. He wants to talk to you about the Bowlings case.”

  “Okay, Mrs V. Send him in, will you?”

  Poor Mrs V. The smell of salmon can’t have helped.

  “Is that old girl alright?” the man asked, after Mrs V had shown him in.

  “She was out on a fishing boat yesterday, and she’s still feeling the after-effects. Please do have a seat. Mrs V said you have some information about Brendan Bowlings? Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “Tommy Brakes. I fish down at Wash Point several times a week. I’ve known Brendan for years. Some of the guys on the river told me you’d been asking questions. I was at the dentist when you came around—dodgy molar. I saw Brendan on the day he’s meant to have disappeared.”

  “Was he okay? Did he speak to you?”

  “He was cheesed off. Brendan always used to fish the same spot, and always did really well there. That was until they built that stupid factory. After that, he had to move. Anyway, that day, he hadn’t caught a thing, and he told me he was going back to his old spot. I asked if he’d forgotten about the fence, but he said he knew a way to get inside.”

  “Did he say how?”

  “No. He just walked off. I figured he was just letting off steam. I never thought any more about it until I heard he’d gone missing.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “Yeah, but they didn’t seem very interested.”

  “Okay, well thanks, Tommy, for coming in.”

  “I hope you find him. He owes me a box of maggots.”

  Under different circumstances, I might have found Tommy’s information more interesting, but having seen the footage from the hotel’s CCTV, I was now convinced that Brendan Bowlings had deliberately gone missing. To confirm my suspicions, I would need to talk to his secretary, Sarah Weller.

  ***

  “How do I look, Jill?” Barry was studying his reflection in the mirror.

  “You look fantastic.” He ought to—I’d just spent the best part of an hour grooming him.

  “I want to win those Barkies. Do you think I’ll win, Jill? Do you?”

  “You’ll definitely be in with a good chance.”

  “Jill!” Aunt Lucy called me back, just as I was about to leave with Barry. “I think I might be able to get those starlight fairy wings for you.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t count your chickens just yet, but I put a few feelers out, and I’ve had word back from someone who thinks they might be able to put their hands on five pairs. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you both want to be in the photo?” The photographer asked. Terry Eyre was a tall wizard in his late forties.

  “I don’t know. What are other people doing?”

  “The rules allow for either a photo of the dogs by themselves or with their owner. It’s been pretty much fifty-fifty up until now.”

  “I think I’ll let Barry pose solo. I don’t want to get the blame if he doesn’t win.”

  I had to hand it to Terry, he took his job extremely seriously, and was the consummate professional.

  “Barry! Look to the right,” Terry called. “A little higher. That’s perfect. Now, let’s try one with you looking straight at the camera. Say ‘bones’. Marvellous.”

  The whole shoot took just under thirty minutes, after which Terry asked me to choose the photograph I wanted to submit to the competition.

  “I think Barry should be the one to choose.”

  “Can I see?” Barry came bounding over. “I’m very handsome, aren’t I?”

  “You certainly are. Which one do you want to use?”

  “It’s a difficult choice.”

  “You’re going to have to make your mind up quickly. I have work to do.”

  “Okay. Err—that one.”

  “Good choice,” Terry said. “Would you like me to print it off for you?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I paid Terry a king’s ransom, and then walked Barry back to Aunt Lucy’s.

  “Do you think I’ll win, Jill? Do you? I want a year’s supply of Barkies.”

  “We’ll have to wait and see. There’ll be a lot of entries.”

  When I dropped Barry off, Aunt Lucy took the photograph from me. She’d agreed to drop my entry form and photograph into The Candle’s offices.

  ***

  It was time to pay another visit to Amy Rice. I knew she was going to be disappointed with what I had to tell her.

  “So far, I have nothing concrete that leads me to believe your husband’s death was anything other than a tragic accident. The only thing that is a little unusual is that Gordon says Douglas telephoned to tell him he couldn’t make it in on that Sunday.”

  “I don’t believe that. Why would Doug tell Gordon that he couldn’t make it, but then go in anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you might have some kind of explanation.”

  “I don’t, but I do know there had been some friction between Doug and Gordon for a while.”

  “What kind of friction?”

  “I don’t know. I asked Doug, but he wouldn’t say. He said it was nothing.”

  “Did they often fall out?”

  “Not really.”

  “I went to see Jordan too. He seems a little down on his luck.”

  “Is he still living in that grotty bedsit?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty awful.”

  “He only has himself to blame. He has a serious gambling problem. I don’t blame Sandra for throwing him out. He wanted to sell the business, but Doug and Gordon wouldn’t hear of it. The business can only be sold if all three brothers vote to do it.”

  “Couldn’t the other two have bought Jordan’s share?”

  “They could, but they wouldn’t because they knew he’d only gamble away the cash.”

  “Did that cause bad feeling?”

  “From what Doug told me, Jordan wasn’t very happy about it, but there was nothing he could do.”

  “I can continue to investigate, if you like, but I have to be honest with you. I think you’ll be throwing good money after bad.”

  “I’d like you to continue, at least for a while. I’ll never believe that Doug’s death was an accident.”

  ***

  I’d checked my bag again, and I’d searched every inch of the car, but there was no sign of Winky’s lottery ticket. Great! I had no option but to come clean with him. Maybe, he’d be understanding, and accept that it was just one of those things.<
br />
  Some chance!

  “What do you mean, you’ve lost it?” he screamed at me.

  “I put it in the pocket inside my bag, but when I got to the shop to claim the prize, it had gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “If I knew that, it wouldn’t be lost, would it?”

  “You’d better draw the money out of your bank account, then!”

  “I’m not giving you five thousand pounds of my own money.”

  “That’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  Phew!

  “I only need four thousand, five hundred. I’d already agreed to let you have ten per cent.”

  “I can’t afford to give you that kind of money.”

  “How do you intend to compensate me, then?”

  “I—err—I suppose I could give you more salmon.”

  “Red?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Every day?”

  “Okay.”

  “For the rest of my life?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Chapter 17

  I’d just put Winky’s salmon into a bowl when Mrs V came bursting into my office. The green tinge had gone, but she looked upset about something.

  “Mrs V? What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a most peculiar man out there. Most peculiar indeed.”

  “Who is it?”

  “He has the strangest name. A Mr Macabre.”

  Oh bum! “That’s our new landlord.”

  “That’s what he said, but I thought he was lying. I threatened to tie him up with a scarf if he didn’t tell me who he really was.”

  It looked like we were off to a great start.

  I grabbed the bowl of salmon while Winky was still eating.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” He tried to knock it out of my hand with his paw.

  “Our new landlord is here. If he sees you, we’ll be out on our ear. Get under the sofa now!”

  He moaned and groaned, but did as I asked, which was just as well because the imposing figure of Mr Martin Macabre appeared in the doorway.

  “I’m not accustomed to being kept waiting in my own properties.”

  “Come in, Mr Macabre, or should I call you Martin?”

  “Mr Macabre will do fine.”

  “Okay.”

  Macabre’s gaze was flitting back and forth around the room—hopefully, Winky would have the good sense to remain hidden.

  “What’s that?” Macabre barked.

  “What’s what?” Then I realised I was still holding the bowl of salmon.

  “It’s—err—it’s—my lunch.”

  “A bowl of salmon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just salmon?”

  I nodded.

  “Isn’t that rather unusual? Wouldn’t you prefer it with a salad or on a sandwich?”

  “No. I like it like this.” I grabbed some with my fingers, and stuffed it into my mouth. “Yummy!”

  It would be impossible to adequately describe the look on Macabre’s face.

  “I believe your previous landlord, Mr Whiteside, has informed you that I have purchased this property, among others.”

  “Yes. Zac called in the other day.”

  “I do things rather differently to Mr Whiteside. I believe the key to being a successful landlord is to ensure that each property has the optimum tenants.”

  “Optimum?”

  “Precisely, and I’m sorry to inform you that a—err—?” He glanced around the office. “Private investigator? Or whatever it is you do, doesn’t really fit in with my plans. The gym next door, however, is more the kind of thing I’d like to see in here. I understand from the owners of I-Sweat that they are hoping to expand.”

  “Hold on a minute. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to agree on some kind of compensation package.”

  “Compensation for what?”

  “Having to move out before your lease is up.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have no intention of moving out of this office. I have a lease, and I intend to stay here until it ends, which if I remember correctly is another thirty years.”

  “Unless you break the terms of your lease.”

  “I’d never do that.”

  “We’ll see.” He stood up. “My lawyers specialise in checking the small print.”

  “Good for them.”

  “You may know them. I believe they used to be based in this building.”

  Oh no! Please tell me it isn’t true.

  “You can expect a call from my man over there: Gordon Armitage.”

  Oh bum!

  I’d expected Winky to come rushing out as soon as Macabre left, but there was no sign of him, so I got down on all fours and looked under the sofa.

  “Hey, lazybones. Don’t you want this?”

  That’s when I spotted it. Tucked into the loose lining of the underside of the sofa, was a ticket. A lottery ticket, to be precise.

  “Here! Give me that!” He tried to snatch it, but I was too quick for him.

  “What’s this, Winky?”

  He shrugged.

  “Why is your winning lottery ticket hidden under the sofa?”

  “It wasn’t hidden, and anyway, that isn’t the winning ticket. That’s an old one.”

  “You’re lying. This is the right date, and I remember these numbers. You must have taken it out of my bag.”

  And then the penny dropped.

  I went over to my computer, and brought up the lottery website.

  “Just as I suspected. You didn’t win at all. Not one of these numbers matches the winning line.”

  “I must have misheard the numbers.” He shrugged, all innocent-like.

  “You set this up! It was you who took the ticket out of my bag. When did you do it? Was it when I was in the outer office? And then you tried to make me believe that I’d lost your ticket, and your winnings. You are a conniving little—”

  “It was just a ruse. I know you enjoy a joke.”

  “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

  “Not on the surface, but underneath—”

  “Not anywhere. I’m never going to trust you again.” I went back to my desk.

  “What about the salmon?”

  “Can you whistle?”

  “A little. Why?”

  “You can whistle for it.”

  ***

  I had to get out of the office before my head exploded. Not only did I have the world’s most devious cat, but my landlord wanted me out. And who had he recruited to help him with that? None other than my old adversary, Gordon Armitage. This day was just getting better and better.

  I decided to drop in on Kathy at Ever. If she was having a bad day too, we could cry on each other’s shoulder.

  “You smell of salmon.” Kathy screwed up her nose.

  “I’ve just fed the cat.”

  “I’m glad you came down. I have some fantastic news!”

  “I could do with some.”

  “Not for you. For me, Pete and Jack. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

  “I already have a pounding headache. Could you stop talking in riddles, and tell me what you’re going on about?”

  “I managed to get tickets to see ‘We’ in concert. I could only get three though, but I didn’t think you were all that bothered. Are you okay with the three of us going without you? I know Pete and Jack are big fans.”

  Okay about it? I was ecstatic. “I suppose I’ll have to be. I’ll just stay home by myself. Don’t worry about me.”

  Playing the martyr? Who? Me? Snigger.

  “It looks like you’ve had a rough day,” Kathy said.

  “I have a new landlord, and he wants me out.”

  “He can’t do anything about it, though, can he?”

  “I hope not. It depends if he can prove I’ve broken the terms of my lease.”

  “The first thing you need to do is get rid of that manky cat.”

  �
�Winky isn’t a—” Wait a minute. Why was I about to defend Winky? “You could adopt him.”

  “Me?” Kathy looked horrified.

  “It would be good for the kids to have a pet. It would give them a sense of responsibility.”

  “If I wanted a pet for the kids, I’d get a goldfish or a gerbil. Not a one-eyed horror-show of a cat.”

  Oh, well. I tried. “Where’s Grandma?”

  “She hasn’t come in today. She’s still licking her wounds after the Chameleon Wool fiasco. It seems to have knocked her confidence.”

  “Grandma? Never.”

  “It’s true. She’s been much more subdued than usual. Not that I’m complaining.”

  Just then, a number of customers came into the shop, so I left Kathy to it. It was good news about the ‘We’ concert. I’d been dreading being dragged to that awful thing.

  There was a queue at Betty’s shop again, but somehow today the atmosphere seemed different. When I got closer, I realised that the people in the queue weren’t waiting to make purchases. They were all demanding refunds.

  Betty came outside. It appeared that she’d taken a leaf out of Grandma’s book, and left her assistants to handle the complaints.

  “What’s going on, Betty?”

  “Don’t ask. It’s a nightmare.”

  “I thought business was good because of that YouTube starlet.”

  “It was, until Viv Royal admitted that she’d been two-timing her boyfriend, Baz Tuck. He’s another YouTube personality. All her fans have turned against her, so now no one wants crustacean jewellery, and they’re all demanding refunds.”

  “That’s tough on you”

  “What makes it worse is that I’ve bought in lots more stock to keep pace with demand.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “I’d better get back inside to help, otherwise my staff will down tools and walk out.”

  “Bye, Betty.”

  At least I wasn’t the only one having a lousy day.

  ***

  I paid a visit to the Human World Society at Pixie Central College, but instead of trying to get the members to come out onto the playing field to speak to me, I shrank myself to pixie size.

  There were fewer members than I’d expected at the meeting: just five including Barnaby Bandtime who ran the society.