Witch Is How Dreams Became Reality (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 32)

by Adele Abbott

  With my fingers crossed, I opened the door.

  “I thought you wanted to put these files in your office?” My good Samaritan gave me a puzzled look.

  “I do, but I just need to leave—err—a note on this desk. Could you drop them on my desk, please?”

  “Sure.” He carried on down the corridor and went into the office two doors further down.

  “Thanks. Just drop them anywhere,” I said.

  “No problem. Do you need me to take a look at the new Forrest stuff?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll let you know if it proves to be anything of interest.”

  “Okay, I’ll catch you later.”

  “Yeah. Thanks again.”

  Phew! That was a close call.

  I waited until I was sure there was no one around, and then made my way to the incident room. In there, were four large whiteboards: two wall-mounted and two freestanding. The Forrest case was laid out on one of the larger wall-mounted boards, and it made for rather interesting reading. It seemed that the police had one key witness: one of Laurence’s neighbours, a Mr Arthur Radford, had reported that he’d seen Laurence return to the apartment almost an hour earlier than he’d claimed to do so. If that was the case, then he would have had ample time to murder his wife before calling the police. The other item of interest related to the murder weapon. It seemed the hammer that had killed Alison had Laurence’s fingerprints on it.

  Mission accomplished, I made my way out of the incident room, but when I was halfway along the corridor, I heard something that sent a chill down my spine.

  “Where did these files on my desk come from, Charlie?” I heard Sushi say.

  Oh bum! What was she doing back here?

  “You just asked me to put them there.” He seemed totally confused by the question.

  “I’ve never seen them before,” Sushi insisted. “I think I’d know if they were mine.”

  “Oh, my mistake. What did you make of the new Forrest intel?”

  “What new intel?”

  “You just told me that you’d come back because you’d received new info on the case.”

  “Have you been drinking, Charlie?” Sushi demanded.

  “Of course not.”

  “I came back because they had a power failure over at West Chipping. That useless crowd couldn’t organise a booze-up in a brewery.”

  “So there isn’t any new info on the Forrest case?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. We don’t need it, anyway. That case is cut and dried. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to crack on.”

  “Sure. Catch you later.”

  Poor old Charlie looked stunned, but that was nothing compared to his expression when he spotted me—still looking like Sushi. Oh bum! What had I been thinking? Why hadn’t I cast the ‘invisible’ spell?

  “Susan?” He glanced quickly back and forth between me, in the corridor, and the real Sushi, in her office.

  “What now, Charlie?” Sushi snapped. Fortunately, from her position in the office, she couldn’t see me.

  “You—err—she—” Charlie stuttered.

  “You aren’t making any sense. Close the door, will you?”

  In something of a daze, he did as he was asked, then he turned to me. Before he could say anything, I put a finger to my lips and beckoned him over.

  “You’re probably wondering what’s going on,” I said in a whisper.

  “You’re here—err—and in there. I don’t understand.”

  “Confusing, isn’t it?” I cast the ‘forget’ spell on him, made myself invisible, and then hurried out of the police station as fast as my legs would carry me.

  That had been too close for comfort, but at least I’d got what I came for.

  ***

  After that ordeal, I needed a coffee, so I headed for Coffee Games.

  “Hi, Jill.” Sarah was behind the counter.

  “Hi. It’s remarkably quiet in here today. What’s the game of the day?”

  “Chinese whispers. What can I get for you?”

  “A blueberry muffin and a—”

  I suddenly came over all light-headed, and then everything went black. When I came around, I found myself standing next to a large pane of glass. Through it, I could see the interior of Coffee Games where the customers were all whispering to one another.

  But where was I?

  I glanced to my left and saw a giant jam donut. To my right was an equally large chocolate brownie. I was just thinking how surreal this was when the realisation dawned on me: I had turned into a muffin.

  The next thing I knew, a young man pointed at me through the glass, and then something cold and metallic picked me up.

  What was going on?

  I glanced up and saw Sarah; she was the one who’d picked me up and placed me on a plate.

  “Sarah! It’s me!” It was no good; she obviously couldn’t hear me.

  I had to do something, and I had to do it quickly or I’d be eaten. Fortunately, even though I was now a muffin, I still seemed to have legs, so I jumped off the plate, and then off the table, and sprinted for the door.

  “Hey! Come back here!” the young man yelled. “Stop that muffin!”

  Soon, half a dozen people were chasing me. My legs were so small that I had no chance of making it to the door before they caught me.

  I was done for.

  “Jill? Are you okay?” Sarah’s voice snapped me back to earth.

  “Err, yeah.”

  “You were miles away. Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’d better get going.”

  “What about your muffin?”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  The sense of relief once I’d made it out of the shop was palpable. That was twice now that I’d experienced a hallucination that had matched one of my dreams. What was happening to me? Was I cracking up?

  “What’s up with you?” Winky said. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

  “I was a muffin.”

  “What do you mean, you were a muffin?”

  “Just now. One minute, I was standing in Coffee Games waiting to be served, and the next, I was a muffin in the cake cabinet. That’s exactly the same as the dream I had last night. And I know what you’re going to say, but I haven’t had a drop to drink.”

  “I believe you.”

  “You do?”

  “Didn’t you have a similar experience earlier in the week?”

  “With the squirrel? Yes, I did. What do you think it means?”

  “I would have thought that was obvious.”

  “Not to me.”

  “That grandmother of yours must be behind it. Have you upset her again?”

  “No, I don’t think so, but you’re right. This is exactly the kind of thing she would do. Thanks, Winky. I need to have an urgent word with that woman.”

  Chapter 12

  Winky was right: Grandma must have been behind the weird dreams thing. I should have realised the first time it happened. That woman was such a piece of work. Not satisfied with dunking me in a tankful of water, she was now intent on invading my dreams.

  Enough was enough; it was time I had it out with her once and for all.

  Julie wasn’t as happy as the last time I’d seen her; in fact, she looked quite glum.

  “Is something wrong, Julie?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure? You seem a little subdued.”

  “Wouldn’t you be if you had to wear these awful uniforms?”

  “When I came in last time, you seemed to be okay with them.”

  “That’s when we could choose which colour we wore. Your grandmother is now insisting we wear only the yellow ones.”

  “Right.”

  “Will you have a word with her, Jill? See if you can get her to let us choose the colour we want to wear? She might listen to you.”

  “I will if I get the chance, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  Grandma was seated at her desk, and
she had a banana on her head.

  “It’s you.” She scowled. “You’re like a bad penny.”

  “Why do you have a banana on your head?”

  “So that’s where it is.” She picked it up and began to peel it. “I wondered where I’d put that.”

  Huh? “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  “Are you still going on about the ducking stool? It’s time to let it go and move on.”

  “No, well yes, I’m still mad about that, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  Through a mouthful of banana, she managed to say, “Why are you here, then?”

  “I want you to leave my dreams alone.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I know you’re behind it.”

  “Okay, you got me.”

  “It was you, then?”

  “No, it wasn’t. I don’t have the first clue what you’re going on about.”

  “I’ve been having—Yuk, you’re not going to eat the peel, are you?”

  “Why not? It’s the best part.”

  “Why have you been turning my dreams into reality?”

  “Don’t you think I have better things to do with my time than mess around with your dreams? I have a new shop launch to plan.”

  “Well, someone must be doing it!”

  “Doing what, exactly? What’s happened?”

  I told her about the incidents with the squirrel and the muffin. “Who do you think is behind it?”

  She finished the last of the banana while she thought about it. “I’m not sure anyone is behind it. Or that it even happened.”

  “Of course it happened.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t just a daydream?”

  “No. I saw the squirrel. It was as real as you are right now.”

  “I’m not aware of any spell that will bring a dream to life, so if someone is doing this to you, they must have developed a new spell. There aren’t many people who could do that.”

  “You could.”

  “Probably, but I repeat, I had nothing to do with it. My money is still on it being a daydream.”

  “Fair enough.” I started for the door. “By the way, the Everettes aren’t very happy with those yellow uniforms. Julie asked me to suggest you make every day multi-coloured day.”

  “Where would be the fun in that?”

  “Oh well, I tried. Bye, then.”

  “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  “What?”

  “Your apology.”

  “For what?”

  “The false accusation you just levelled at me.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. Bye.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Why, what’s happening tomorrow?”

  “Surely you haven’t forgotten that it’s Witchgiving?”

  “Oh yeah, right.”

  “It’s going to be great fun.”

  Something told me that Grandma’s idea of fun and mine were wildly different.

  ***

  I’d made an appointment to see Tiberius Dove who was in charge of Candle Mail, the main postal delivery service that operated in Candlefield.

  The headquarters of the postal service was on Candle Island, a man-made island on the River Candle, accessible by bridge. It was an area of Candlefield I’d never had occasion to visit before. The ‘island’ was home to numerous businesses, the largest of which was Candle Mail.

  “Could I have your autograph, please?” the young wizard on reception asked.

  I always found such requests a little embarrassing. “Sure.”

  “I have a poster of you in my bedroom.”

  That gave rise to three questions: First, who would want a poster of me? Second, who was producing the posters? Third, and most importantly, why wasn’t I being paid royalties?

  “A poster of me? Really?”

  “Yes. It’s one of you in the Levels Competition. It took me ages to decide between that one and one of you at the Elite.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Brewster but everyone calls me Brew.”

  “How many different posters of me were there?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably a dozen.”

  “And where was this?”

  “Candlefield Icons. Do you know the cat rescue place?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s just around the corner from there.”

  “Thanks, Brew.”

  Tiberius Dove was a werewolf, and an absolute giant.

  “Have a seat, Mrs Maxwell.”

  “Thanks, and please call me Jill.”

  “Jill it is, and you must call me Tibs.”

  “Okay, Tibs.”

  “I believe you’re here regarding Monty Featherstone?”

  “That’s right. His wife, Felicity, came to see me.”

  “Such a lovely couple. Terrible business this. I had a word with the police on Felicity’s behalf, but they don’t seem very keen to get involved. Not yet anyway. They seem to think that Monty has ‘chosen’ to disappear.”

  “I take it you don’t?”

  “I might if it was one of my other employees. But Monty? Never. The man is as honest as the day is long. He’s punctual to a fault, never misses a shift, and is well thought of by both his colleagues and the customers.”

  “Do you think it’s possible he could be lying badly injured somewhere?”

  “He would have been found by now. I’ve had my people cover every inch of his route. If he was lying injured somewhere, they would have found him.”

  “Do you have any other theories?” I said.

  “The only thing I can come up with is that someone is holding him against his will.”

  “Why would someone do that?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Even though I got the impression that Tibs was keen to help, I was getting nowhere. “Is it possible to at least pinpoint the exact spot where he went missing?”

  He thought about it for a minute. “The best we could do would be to try to establish which was the last address he delivered mail to.”

  “Would you do that?”

  “Of course. I’ll have one of my people walk the route, and check every house, to see what they come up with.”

  “And you’ll let me know?”

  “Of course.”

  “Just one other thing. Do you have a copy of the route that Monty’s round would have taken him on?”

  “Yes, I can let you have that right now.” It took him only a few clicks of the mouse to print it off. “There you go.”

  ***

  I finished work early and called at the Corner Shop on the way home. At first, I didn’t think there was anyone behind the counter.

  “Jack? Are you back there?”

  “I’m down here, Jill.”

  “Oh?” I leaned over the counter to find Little Jack standing there. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were down there.”

  “One of my stilts has malfunctioned.”

  “Oh dear. How are you going to manage?”

  “It’s okay. I’ve called Stilt Rescue. They guarantee to attend within the hour, so hopefully I’ll be up and running again soon. Well, maybe not running, but definitely walking.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Did you remember to help yourself to a free drink?”

  “No, but I will now.” I walked over to the vending machine and made my selection.

  “Which one did you choose?” he asked.

  “Wild berry.”

  “My favourite.”

  Hmm? Once again, it looked and tasted like regular tea. Still, it was free, so I didn’t think I should complain.

  “Are you still getting backlash from the failure of the shopping app, Jack?”

  “No, I seem to have weathered that particular storm. I think the introduction of the new loyalty card has placated most people.”

  “Loyalty card?”

  “Don’t you know about it? My apologies. I fe
lt sure I’d already given you one.”

  “No, it’s the first I’ve heard of it. To be honest, I don’t usually go in for loyalty cards. If I accepted every time one was offered to me, my purse would be bursting at the seams with them.”

  “Yes, but do the others offer custard creams as rewards?”

  “That’s a good point—they don’t. Maybe I will take one.”

  “Excellent. Just wait there.” He walked to the other end of the counter and returned clutching a yellow plastic card with the letters TCS printed in red on the front. “There you are, Jill.”

  “Will I need to activate it?”

  “No, it’s ready to go. Your purchases today will count towards your points score.”

  “How can I check how many points I have?”

  “Just go to my website—the URL is printed on the back. Enter your card number and it will show your points balance.”

  “Excellent, thanks.”

  ***

  Since I discovered I was a witch, I’ve had to do a lot of strange stuff, but collecting a trophy for my tortoise’s poetry was certainly right up there. I still thought Jack should have been the one to collect it, but my last-minute appeals for him to go in my place had fallen on deaf ears.

  Before I magicked myself down to London, I had to turn myself into a man. Until that moment, I hadn’t really given any thought who to base the ‘doppelganger’ spell on, so for ease, I made myself look like Jack.

  The awards ceremony was run by a single publishing house, so it was unlikely that there would be more than a handful of people there. My plan was to grab the trophy, say thanks, and then wing it back home.

  What is it they say about the best laid plans?

  Alarm bells should have gone off when I saw that the presentation ceremony was being held at a small theatre rather than at the publishers’ offices. But they didn’t, so when I arrived, I was stunned to see the size of the audience; there must have been at least five hundred people in the theatre.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, I discovered that the award ceremony wasn’t just for poetry. The publishing company covered the whole gamut of genres, and there was a separate award for each one of them. That explained why there were so many people in attendance.