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

by Adele Abbott

“Okay, thanks. Come on, Winky.” I led the way over to the unit where Blaze was ushering the feline ‘cruise passengers’ out into the daylight. They all looked disorientated and confused.

  “Morning, Jill,” Blaze gave me a little wave. “This was a good catch you made. Frostmore is a slippery character.”

  “Is it okay if we take a quick look inside?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Winky followed me into the unit where the large screen was now playing to an empty room.

  “See?” I spread my arms. “This would have been your cruise.”

  “The cheating lowlifes! They almost had my money.”

  “This is the point where you thank me.”

  “Thanks,” he said, in almost a whisper.

  “Sorry? Did you say something?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. Come on, we’d better get back. And for heaven’s sake, get changed out of that ridiculous outfit.”

  ***

  Today was the relaunch of Cuppy C’s cat café. The place was full; there wasn’t a spare seat to be had.

  “I didn’t think you were coming, Jill.” Amber was clearly stressed out.

  “Sorry, I had a cat thing of my own to attend to. I haven’t missed anything, have I?”

  “No. Pearl’s in the back. When I knock on the door, she’s going to let the cats come through.”

  “It looks like you have another good turnout.”

  “People are really looking forward to this.”

  “Let’s hope the cats hang around a little longer than they did the last time.” I grinned.

  “It’s no laughing matter, Jill. That setback cost us a lot of money.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Anyway, this time we’ve posted Mindy at the door. She’s going to make sure that none of the cats make a run for it.” Amber turned to Mindy. “Are you ready?”

  After Mindy had given her the thumbs up, Amber knocked on the door to signal to Pearl to release the cats.

  And in they marched. Now I’m no expert on cats, but I could have sworn that at least two of them looked rather familiar. They seemed to bear an uncanny resemblance to two of the cats who had appeared at the first launch. The customers neither knew nor cared about that. They were too busy cooing all over the felines who were strutting between the tables.

  Every time more customers arrived, Mindy made sure to open the door only wide enough and long enough to allow them inside. All seemed to be going swimmingly.

  Until—

  “I have a delivery for you out the back.” The delivery driver appeared at the door that led out into the alleyway at the back of the shop.

  “The door! Shut the door!” Pearl yelled at him, but it was too late because the cats were already headed past him.

  “No!” Amber screamed, but it was to no avail. The cat café was once again minus its cats.

  As the disappointed customers began to leave, Amber and Pearl took a seat at one of the many now vacant tables.

  “What are we going to do?” Amber said.

  “We can’t keep spending money on more cats.” Pearl sighed. “We’ll go bankrupt at this rate.”

  “Something about this just doesn’t pass my sniff test,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can understand one or two cats making a break for it, but for all of them to do it? And for it to happen twice? That just doesn’t make sense.”

  “What are you saying, Jill?” Pearl said.

  “I’m saying something weird is going on. Didn’t you notice that two of the cats looked like those that were here on the first launch day?”

  “Actually, I did notice that.” Amber nodded. “But I assumed that was just a coincidence.”

  “I think this warrants further investigation. Would you like me to check into it?” I offered.

  “Yes, please. We can’t carry on like this.”

  “Okay. You’d better give me the contact details for Cat City, and I’ll see what I can find out.”

  I waited until I had left Cuppy C before giving Cat City a call.

  “Cat City, Felix speaking.”

  “Hi. I’ll be opening a cat café in a few months’ time, and I’m looking for someone who can supply a number of cats suitable for living in that environment. Is that something you can help with?”

  “Absolutely. How many cats were you thinking of?”

  “I’m not sure. I’d like to pop over and discuss it with you if that’s possible?”

  “Sure. We’re rather busy today, but we’ll certainly be able to spare you some time tomorrow morning at ten if that works for you?”

  “That sounds great.”

  “What’s your name, please?”

  “Kitty Sears.”

  “What a fabulous name. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  “Me too. Oh, and Felix, would it be possible to see some of your cats while I’m there?”

  “No problem.”

  ***

  I’d no sooner finished speaking to Cat City than I received a phone call from Longdale prison, asking if I’d accept a reverse-charge call from Laurence Forrest.

  “Jill? My mother said you wanted me to call you. Do you have any good news for me?”

  “Not yet, I’m afraid. I wanted to ask you about a visit you had at your flat recently from a maintenance man.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Maybe nothing, but I’d still like you to tell me about it.”

  “There’s nothing much to tell. I’d called the landlord because we were having a problem with one of the window locks.”

  “Did you have to wait long for them to come out?”

  “No, they’ve always been pretty good at sorting out problems when they arise.”

  “Do you remember the man who came to do the job?”

  “Not really. I saw him in, showed him the window that was causing the problem, and then left him to it.”

  “You didn’t have any kind of falling out with him?”

  “No. Why would you ask that?”

  “I spoke to your neighbour, Louise Roache. She approached the man after he’d been at your flat, and she thought he seemed worked up about something.”

  “I don’t understand that because nothing happened. In fact, when I went to check how he was getting on, he’d already left.”

  “Wasn’t that a bit strange? For him to leave without saying anything?”

  “I seem to recall that Alison and I were having a blazing row about something at the time, so he probably didn’t like to walk in on us. He’d sorted out the window lock, and that’s all I was concerned about. I still don’t know what this has to do with anything.”

  “Probably nothing. Thanks for calling me, Laurence.”

  “You’ll let me know if there are any developments?”

  “Of course.”

  One of the things I’d learned from my dad was that you should trust your instincts, and this was definitely one of those times. There was something about the maintenance man’s visit that bothered me. Specifically, I was curious about what had got him so riled when he left the Forrests’ flat. And why had he resigned immediately after that visit? I could well be headed up a blind alley; it wouldn’t be the first time, but I wouldn’t rest until I knew more about him. Edward Tucker, the landlord, wasn’t going to allow me to see his ex-employee’s record, but that wasn’t really an obstacle because this girl got skillz.

  What? Didn’t you know I’m down with the kidz?

  Edward Tucker worked out of an office just down the road from Kathy’s first shop. As I was walking past, she spotted me and beckoned me inside.

  “Where are you off to?”

  “I’m working on a case. I’m on my way to steal some personnel records.”

  “Very funny. What are you really doing?”

  “Nothing particularly interesting. How’s the wedding business?”

  “Thriving. I should have done this
years ago instead of wasting my time working for other people.”

  “Are Peter and the kids okay?”

  “Fine, thanks. Mikey’s a bit disillusioned with his canary, though.”

  “How come?”

  “It doesn’t seem very happy. We’ve bought a load of toys for it, but they haven’t made any difference.”

  “He’s probably lonely. He needs a lady friend.”

  “When did you become the canary whisperer?”

  “It’s just a hunch. What are you going to do about it?”

  “There’s not much we can do. Mikey’s beginning to wish he’d gone for his second choice of pet.”

  “What was that?”

  “A rabbit, but he can’t have one now that he has the canary.”

  “What if I could find a good home for the bird?”

  “Do you want it?”

  “Me? Not likely, but I might know someone who does.”

  “Really? Well, if you do, go for it. If we can rehome the canary, then we’ll buy Mikey his rabbit.”

  “Okay. I’ll check with my friend and let you know.”

  “Great.”

  Once I was out of the shop, I gave Dorothy a call.

  “It’s Jill. Did your canary ever turn up?”

  “No. I’m a dead woman walking. When Mum finds out, she’ll kill me.”

  “I think I know where he is.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Unless there are two lovelorn canaries called Bob in Washbridge, he’s currently living at my sister’s house.”

  “Where did she get him from?”

  “I’m not sure. A pet shop, I think, but that’s not the point. He’s supposed to be a pet for their boy, Mikey, but it isn’t working out. The lad would prefer to have a rabbit. I’ve just spoken to my sister, and she’d be happy to give the canary to a good home. I told her I might know someone who would take it.”

  “That’s great, Jill. When would I be able to collect him?”

  “I’ll give you Kathy’s phone number and you can arrange it between you.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “Just one thing. I wouldn’t mention that he used to belong to you. I just told her you were a canary fancier.”

  “No problem, and thanks again. I owe you one.”

  Chapter 24

  Edward Tucker’s offices were on the ground floor of the building, so this was going to be easy peasy. I’d make myself invisible, sail inside, find the file I needed, and then I’d be on my way. What could be easier?

  Or so I thought.

  Seriously, who keeps a dog in their office? Yes, I know I have a cat, but that’s an entirely different proposition.

  “Buster! Settle down!” Tucker shouted at the Westie. “What’s wrong with you today?”

  The dog was taking not a blind bit of notice because he had sensed that there was someone else in the room. As soon as I’d slipped through the door, the dog had started barking, growling and running back and forth, trying to locate the source of the scent.

  I had planned to wait until Tucker had slipped out of the office for a few minutes, and then to rifle through his files, but that wasn’t going to work now that Buster was on my case.

  It was time for plan B. Or, to be more accurate, it was time for me to come up with a plan B.

  I was still trying to decide what to do when Tucker solved the problem for me.

  “Come on.” He grabbed a lead from out of the top drawer of his desk. “Let’s see if we can’t walk this off.” The Westie ignored him and continued to bark in my direction. “Buster!” He clipped the lead to the dog’s collar, and dragged him, still barking, out of the office.

  Phew! That was too close for comfort.

  It didn’t take long to find the personnel file for Paul Hattersley. Rather than trying to make notes and risk the return of Buster, I simply pocketed it and made my exit.

  ***

  “You’re it!” A young man tapped me on the shoulder, and then scooted away.

  It was clearly ‘tag’ day in Coffee Games, but I wasn’t in the mood for such silliness.

  “Could I get a caramel latte, please, Sarah?”

  “Sure, but you do realise you’re it, don’t you?”

  “I don’t have time to play games today.”

  “You can tag me if you like.”

  “Okay.” I reached over and tapped her on the shoulder. “You’re it now.”

  And then, much to my surprise, she leapt over the counter and began to chase the other customers. Only when she’d managed to tag someone else did she return to make my coffee.

  To ensure that I wasn’t disturbed again, I found a table at the back of the shop. I then scribbled a message on a sheet of A4 paper, which I placed on the table. It read:

  No tagging allowed – I’m too busy!

  Much to my relief, and if I’m honest, my surprise, the other customers respected the notice, and I was left in peace to study Hattersley’s file.

  When I’d spoken to Tucker on the phone, he’d indicated that Hattersley had been a model employee, and the file certainly bore that out. It also included the names and contact details for his two previous employers, but most important of all, it listed Hattersley’s address.

  It was time to pay our Mr Hattersley a visit.

  “Are you looking for Paul, love?” A woman, with a long-haired cat in her arms, appeared in the doorway of the next-door flat.

  “Paul Hattersley, yeah.”

  “He moved out a couple of weeks ago.”

  “You wouldn’t know where I could find him, would you?”

  “No, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since he left.”

  “Did you know him well?”

  “No. He was a bit of a quiet one. I never saw him speak to anyone.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Curiouser and curiouser.

  ***

  One of Hattersley’s previous employers was based in Newcastle. I gave them a call.

  “Rhodine Estates, Ted Rhodine speaking.”

  “My name is Jill Maxwell. I’m a private investigator working in Washbridge.”

  “Moving to Newcastle, are you? You’ve come to the right place. I have a few properties—”

  “Actually, no. I was hoping to speak to you about an ex-employee of yours, Paul Hattersley.”

  “What about him? What’s this about?”

  “It’s rather complicated, but it relates to a case I’m working on. I can’t go into detail, I’m afraid, but I believe Hattersley may be able to help with my enquiries. He’s just left his current job and moved out without a forwarding address. Until I can locate him, I thought I might get a better idea of the kind of man he is by speaking to his previous employers.”

  “He was one of the best workers I’ve ever had. Very quiet, though. Always kept himself to himself.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. He just rang up one day, and said he wasn’t coming back. I wasn’t very happy about that, as you might imagine. He said it was a personal matter and that he was sorry, and then he hung up.”

  “You gave him a reference, though?”

  “Yeah, well I figured he’d done a good job while he was here, and if he really had suffered some kind of personal tragedy, I didn’t want to make matters worse by refusing him a reference. He hasn’t gone and done anything bad, has he?”

  “Thank you for your help, Mr Rhodine. I’m most grateful.”

  Before moving to Rhodine Estates, Hattersley had worked at Carmichael Properties in Liverpool. Freddy Tranter, the proprietor there, told me a story not dissimilar to the one I’d heard from Ted Rhodine. Hattersley had been a model employee who had kept his head down, and never caused any problems. But just as with his other two employers, he had simply quit on the spot one day. Another personal tragedy apparently.

  That was way too much of a coincidence for my liking, but not much help if I couldn’t actually track down Hattersley. I did still have o
ne slim hope: The personnel file I’d taken from Edward Tucker included a contact mobile phone number for his next of kin who was listed as his brother, James.

  I gave the number a call and it rang out before going to voicemail. With little or no expectation, I left my name and number, and a message asking him to give me a call back.

  ***

  It was time to pay a visit to Pooch Pound in GT. It turned out to be much like any dog rescue centre in the human world, except of course, there were one hundred percent more ghosts.

  “You’re not a ghost?” The young man was sporting a yellow and white striped blazer, matched with white trousers; he looked like he should have been handing out deckchairs at the seaside.

  “That’s correct. I’m not a ghost.”

  “How can you be in GT, then? I don’t understand.”

  I spent the next few minutes explaining to him who I was and how come I was able to visit GT.

  “Just wait until I tell my Mum about you. She’ll never believe it. Would you mind if I took a selfie with you?”

  “Err, okay.”

  “Thanks.” He took out his phone and took a quick snap of the two of us. “I’m Timz, by the way. That’s T-I-M-Z, but the ‘Z’ is silent.”

  “Right.”

  “How can I help you today?”

  “I’m looking for a dog.”

  “You’re definitely in the right place, then. What breed did you have in mind?”

  “Actually, I’m looking for a specific dog: One that went missing recently. His name is Rocky.”

  “I see. And what breed is Rocky?”

  “That was an awfully good question, but one I hadn’t had the sense to ask Old Mother Mason.

  “I don’t actually know. I do know he was wearing a nametag, though. Maybe you could check your records to see if you’ve had a dog called Rocky handed in recently?”

  “I’ll take a look.” He tapped away on his computer. “Oh?”

  “What?”

  “I have good news and bad news.”

  “What’s the good news?”

  “I do have a dog named Rocky.”

  “And the bad news?”