by Adele Abbott
“I told you he went in for the big illusions,” Jack said.
Bless. If only he knew he was sitting next to a real, live witch. It would probably blow his mind. And my cover.
“Thank you! Thank you!” The Tremendous Sylvester put up his hand to stop the applause. “Please concentrate on the truck behind me. In a few moments, it will disappear before your very eyes. Are you ready?”
“Yes!” The crowd roared.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Even louder, this time.
The magician, illusionist or whatever he called himself, turned to face the lorry. With the arena now in total silence, he slowly raised both hands.
Even I was enthralled now.
There was a collective gasp as the bottom of the lorry disappeared. The ‘invisibility’ seemed to creep slowly up the vehicle until moments later, it had completely disappeared.
Everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering.
“What about that, then?” Jack turned to me.
“Very impressive.”
And it was. The execution of the illusion had been flawless. I was now convinced of one thing; he couldn’t have done that with ‘real’ magic.
“I’ll be glad to get away from that awful smell,” I said, as we made our way slowly out of the arena. The sickly-sweet smell of candy floss had been overpowering all the time we had been there.
“Come on, Jill, admit it. You enjoyed yourself.”
“It was better than I thought it would be.”
“What about that finale? How do you think he did it?”
“How would I know? It’s not like I’m a witch or something.”
***
“So, how was it?” Kathy rang the next morning, not long after I arrived at the office.
“What?”
“The show, of course.”
“Better than I expected.”
“What did he do for the finale?”
“Made a lorry disappear.”
“Really? Wow! I wish I could have seen it. Did Jack enjoy it?”
“Yes, but then he’s easily impressed. I can’t chat right now, Kathy. I’m working undercover this afternoon, and I have some preparation to do before then.”
“Undercover? That sounds exciting. What’s that all about?”
“I can’t discuss my cases; you know that.”
“Go on, Jill. Just—”
“Bye, Kathy.”
Just then, Mrs V popped her head around my door.
“Jill, I have the Oranges for you.”
“Oranges?” I hadn’t asked Mrs V to get me any fruit.
“Mr and Mrs Orange.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
The Oranges had contacted me a couple of days earlier. They’d been rather cagey during our telephone conversation, but the gist of it seemed to be that they were having problems with their neighbour. The couple looked to be in their fifties. He was good looking—her, not so much.
“Good morning.” It was the woman who spoke first. “My name is Rosemary, and this is Philip.”
“Everyone calls me Pip,” he said.
Orange? Pip? One day I’d get a client with a sensible name, but not today, apparently.
“Please, take a seat. Can I offer you a drink?”
They both shook their heads. “No thanks,” Rosemary said. “We called at a coffee shop on the way here. A very strange place it was too. Everyone was banging a drum. We couldn’t hear ourselves think, could we, Pip?”
“No dear, but it did look like fun.”
“You mentioned on the phone something about problems with a neighbour?” I prompted.
“That’s an understatement.” Rosemary shook her head. “The woman is an absolute nightmare.”
“She did bake us a cake,” Pip said.
“Poisoned it first, most likely,” Rosemary said. “I threw it in the bin.”
“Perhaps you should start by telling me something about your neighbour?”
Rosemary pulled her chair closer to my desk, and spoke in a hushed tone. “The woman is a witch.”
“Oh?”
“A real witch. She’s cast spells on us.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s obvious.” She turned to her husband. “Isn’t it, Pip?”
“I’m not sure I’d—”
“A witch. No other word for it.”
By now, I knew who wore the trousers in their house: Whoever Rosemary said could wear them.
“You said she’d cast spells on you? Could you give me an example?”
“Where do I begin? Let’s see. Well, for a start, there’s the spell to make it rain.”
Now, Rosemary had my full attention. It was relatively simple for any witch to cast the ‘rain’ spell. Maybe, the Oranges were being targeted by a disgruntled witch. If that was the case, then I’d have a word, and if that didn’t do any good, I’d call on Daze.
“The rain spell that she cast on you? Can you give me a little more detail?”
“I certainly can.” Rosemary was on a roll now. “Ever since she moved in next door, it’s done nothing but rain.”
“Just on your house?”
“What?” She looked confused. “No. It’s rained five times in Washbridge already this month.”
“It is the twentieth, today.”
“Exactly.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re blaming your neighbour because it’s rained five times this month? In Washbridge?”
“That’s right. And, there’s more.”
Oh boy!
“She’s cast a bad luck spell on us, hasn’t she, Pip?”
“I—err—don’t know if I’d say that.”
“Of course you would. How else can you explain it?”
“Explain what?” I asked.
“Do you know how many times we’ve won on the lottery since she moved in?”
“The lottery? Not many people win the lottery.”
“I don’t mean the jackpot. I’m talking about any prize. Not one! Not since she moved in.”
“What about before?”
“We won twice, didn’t we, Pip?”
“Yes, Rosemary.”
“How much did you win, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Ten pounds the first time, and twenty the second.”
“And how long have you been doing the lottery?”
“Must be twenty years.” Pip managed to get a word in edgeways.
“Okay, I think I understand. You’ve won a total of thirty pounds on the lottery in twenty years—”
“And not a penny since!” Rosemary thumped my desk for effect.
“It’s still not a lot to go on.”
“Yes, but just wait until you hear this.” Rosemary had obviously been keeping the best until last. “She’s used a spell to scare all the birds away.”
“Oh?”
“Tell her, Pip.”
Poor old Pip looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. “I’m not sure I could do it justice, Rosemary.”
“Very well. I suppose I’ll have to do it. Do you like birds, Miss Gooder?”
“I’m quite partial to a Chaffinch.”
“We love them, don’t we, Pip?”
“Yes, dear.”
“We have an ornamental bird bath on the patio, so we can watch them through the French windows. But, as soon as that witch moved in, they disappeared, just like that. Didn’t they, Pip?”
“The odd one still comes around.” Pip’s words fell on deaf ears.
“So, you see, Miss Gooder, the woman is a witch who has scared off all of the birds.”
“I see. Tell me, what is your neighbour’s name?”
“Felicity Brown. Did you ever hear a more witch-like name?”
“Does Mrs Brown have any pets?”
“She’s a Miss, and yes, she has a cat. An ugly thing it is too.” Rosemary glanced across at Winky who was sitting on the sofa, washing his paws. “Not as ugly as him, t
hough.”
“You don’t think your neighbour’s cat might have anything to do with the birds abandoning your garden, then?”
“Definitely not! It’s witchcraft, plain and simple. Now, can you help us or not?”
My nutjob alarm had been sounding for some time, and I’d ignore it at my peril.
“As luck would have it, this isn’t the first case of this kind to cross my desk.”
“Really?” Rosemary was clearly impressed.
“It’s more common than you’d think. Fortunately, I have an anti-witch potion which has worked wonders in the past.”
“I didn’t realise there was such a thing.”
“It’s all very hush hush. I’ll need your word that you won’t mention this to another soul.”
“Of course. We won’t say a word, will we, Pip?”
“Not a word, Rosemary.”
“Okay.” I opened the bottom drawer of my desk, took out a small paper bag, and handed it to Rosemary.
“What are these crystals?”
“They’re coated with a special potion. Scatter them around the borders of your back garden, and they’ll block all the spells.”
“Thank you so much.” Rosemary beamed. “How much do we owe you?”
“I’ll post my bill to you.”
“Thank you again.” She grabbed her husband’s arm, and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, Pip, the sooner we scatter these on the garden, the better.”
“Who does she think she is, calling me ugly?” Winky said, once the Oranges had left.
“It’s her husband I feel sorry for. She must really give him the pip.” I laughed. “Get it? The pip?”
“Little things amuse little minds.” Winky shook his head. “Anyway, what was that rubbish you fobbed her off with?”
“Cat repellent crystals. I bought them some time ago. I was going to put them around the linen basket to stop you going in there, but I thought better of it. Looks like I’m about to make a pretty profit on them.”
“You’re smarter than I give you credit for.” Winky hesitated. “But then, that wouldn’t be difficult.”
Chapter 7
Jeffrey Beach had been as good as his word, and had arranged for me to work at Grover Import/Export for a few hours each week. Today was my first day in the job, and as requested, I arrived at the office just after lunch.
The main office was empty, but there was a man, who I took to be Charles Grover, in the small inner office.
“You must be the temp?” He came out to greet me.
“That’s right. Jill Gooder. I’m a little early.”
“Good to have you on board, Jill. We have plenty of work for you to go at.”
Just then, the door opened, and in walked a woman with short blonde hair. She was wearing a floral dress which made her look older than her years.
“This is Elsie Cooper,” Grover said. “She’s my second in command, and has been with me for almost fifteen years now. Elsie, this is Jill Gooder. She’s the temp I told you about.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jill.” Elsie managed a smile, but it seemed forced.
“Can I leave Jill with you, Elsie?” Grover said.
“Of course, Charles.”
“You’ll sit here, Jill.” Elsie pointed to the desk next to her own. “I have to say I was rather surprised when Charles told me that we’d be taking on a temp.”
“I understand that you’ve lost some staff recently?”
“That’s right. You may have read about Kimberly’s disappearance in the local press.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Terrible affair. It happened after she’d left the office. On her way home.”
“What do the police think happened to her?”
“They don’t seem to have a clue. She disappeared into thin air. Such a nice young woman, too. I’m surprised that Charles has brought in a temp, though. We usually just muddle through in these circumstances. And Charles normally involves me in any recruitment decisions.” I could hear disappointment in her voice.
“He probably had to do it in a hurry.”
“I suppose so.” She conceded. “So, Jill, are you familiar with spreadsheets?”
“No, not really.”
“What about databases?”
“No. Sorry.”
Elsie sighed. “Perhaps it would be best if you caught up on the filing, then?”
And that’s what I did. There was a huge pile of papers waiting to be filed into a number of filing cabinets; it had obviously been accumulating for some considerable time. I’d barely scratched the surface when a young man came over to talk to me.
“Hi, I’m Tony Moore.”
“Jill Gooder.”
“How long are you going to be with us, Jill?”
“Only a few days, I think.”
“That’s a pity.” He grinned. “It’s nice to have a pretty face in the office.”
Tony proceeded to flirt with me for the next twenty minutes. He was well-versed in the art, and was being way too familiar with someone he’d only met a few minutes earlier. Still, I was prepared to play along, if it meant he’d let his guard down. Maybe he’d be able to give me some kind of lead?
***
After I’d finished my stint at Grover Import/Export, I called in at the library because I wanted to have a word with Mad. Amazingly, I found her behind the front desk.
“Are you feeling okay, Mad?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re never out here. You’re usually hidden away in one of the stock rooms.”
“The head librarian’s off this week, so they’ve left me in charge.” She laughed. “Can you believe that?”
“You should have worn your yellow dress to celebrate.”
She looked daggers at me. “I’ve already burnt that thing.”
“I don’t blame you. Anyway, I’ve got a bone to pick with you. When did you sneak out of the wedding?”
“I waited until everyone was in the pub, and then made a dash for it.”
“You should have told us. We could have come with you.”
“Too risky. If too many people had gone AWOL, it would have been noticed.”
“I’m surprised your mum didn’t notice her daughter was missing.”
“Apparently not. Anyway, what brings you here today?”
“I’m after a favour.”
“I suppose I owe you one after dragging you to that awful wedding. What do you need?”
“I think my niece, Lizzie, may be a parahuman.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Jack and I were babysitting Lizzie and Mikey at our house, the other day. I was in the kitchen talking to my mother’s ghost. Lizzie walked in on us, and she could see my mum.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. My mother took the hint and disappeared, but Lizzie asked me about the lady in white.”
“What did you say?”
“I tried to fob her off, but she wasn’t having it. She said that she’d seen others, including the ghost of a young girl at her school.”
“Do you want me to talk to her about what it’s like to see ghosts?”
“Definitely not. I was hoping she’d forget all about them, but she’s going on a ghost tour of Washbridge this Saturday.”
“I’ve heard about those tours.”
“Kathy has asked me to go with her. It might be a good opportunity to convince her that ghosts don’t exist.”
“And, how exactly are you planning to do that?”
“I thought if you came along, you could stay one step ahead of us, and make sure that any ghosts are chased away before Lizzie gets there. That way, if she goes through the whole tour, and doesn’t see a single ghost, she might forget all about them.”
“No.” Mad shook her head.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“Look, Jill, I know you’re only trying to do the best for your niece, but this isn’t what she needs. I know what it’s like to
grow up as the ‘weird’ kid who can see and talk to ghosts. I had a miserable time in my childhood because no one would believe me, and I don’t want to put Lizzie in that same position.”
“I thought I’d be helping her.”
“You wouldn’t. If she can see ghosts, then she can see them. What she needs is someone to believe her, and to tell her that she isn’t crazy. Why don’t I come on the tour with you and Lizzie, so I can assess her powers? Once I’ve established whether or not she really is a parahuman, then you can decide what to do about it.”
“Okay. I guess you’re right.”
“Let me have the details, and I’ll meet you there. By the way, the four of us still haven’t got around to having a night out together yet.”
“I know—we’ve just been so busy. I’m looking forward to meeting Henry.”
“I’ve got a photo of him if you’d like to see it?” Mad was already taking her phone out of her handbag. “There you go. He’s a looker, isn’t he?”
I was too stunned to speak.
“Jill? What do you think of him?”
“Sorry, yes, he’s very good looking. Look, Mad, I’d better get going. I’ll let you have the details of the ghost tour.”
I had to get away from Mad before she could say anything else about Henry. He was definitely good looking—I had thought so the first time I’d met him.
Henry was none other than Harry—Megan’s new boyfriend.
***
Jack was already home when I got back, and he didn’t look very happy.
“Bad day?” I asked.
“Terrible, and I’ll give you one guess why.”
“No idea.”
“His initials are L R.”
“Leo Riley? What’s he been doing now? I thought you’d finished working with him?”
“I have, thank goodness, but he called me this afternoon, and guess what he wanted to talk about? Or, should I say who he wanted to talk about.”
“I don’t know.” In truth, I had a horrible feeling that I knew precisely who Riley had wanted to talk to Jack about: yours truly.
“He wanted to talk about you.”
“Me? Why? Hasn’t he got anything better to do with his time?”
“In particular, he wanted to talk about your connection to a certain butcher in New Manston. Ring any bells?”