Witch Is How Berries Tasted Good (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 26)

by Adele Abbott

  “This is it. I’m just across the way there if you need me.”

  “Okay. Goodnight, then.”

  The bedroom was beautifully furnished with an antique four-poster bed as its centrepiece.

  I was still only half awake, and the temptation to climb into the bed was almost overwhelming, but that would have been a mistake. Instead, I took a seat at the dressing table on which stood a large jewellery box. If the thief returned tonight, he would be in for a shock when he found me waiting there for him.

  Time dragged. It felt as though I’d been there for hours, but when I checked my watch, it had only just turned midnight. My eyelids were heavy, and I came close to nodding off several times.

  This was hopeless—I had to do something to wake myself up.

  I began to walk circuits of the room, past the bed, past the dressing table and then past the wardrobes. Every time I came close to the bed, it was like a magnet drawing me to it. Maybe, I should just put my head down for a couple of minutes? No! I had to stay awake. But it looked so comfortable and inviting.

  “What the—?” I woke up to find myself on the bed, in darkness.

  How had I allowed myself to fall asleep? I didn’t remember getting onto the bed or turning the light out. But I couldn’t worry about that now because there was someone in the room with me, and it sounded like they were over by the dressing table.

  “Hey, you!” I switched on the bedside lamp.

  “You can see me?” The ghostly figure of a man stared at me in disbelief. “How?”

  “Never mind that. Why have you got your hand in that jewellery box?”

  He pulled it away. “I wasn’t stealing anything.”

  “Really? Just like you didn’t steal the other pieces that have gone missing from this room?”

  “I can explain.”

  “Save it for the Ghost Town police. I’m sure Constance Bowler would love to hear your fairy stories.”

  “How do you know about Ghost Town? You’re not a—”

  “Ghost? No, I’m a witch, but I’m able to travel back and forth between here and GT.”

  “I had no idea that sups could do that.”

  “As far as I know, I’m the only one who can.”

  “Don’t call the police, please. At least hear me out first.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Is it okay if I sit down?” He pointed to the armchair.

  “Help yourself.”

  “My name is Roland Rook, but everyone calls me Rooky.”

  “That’s very interesting.” I tapped my watch. “But time’s a ticking by.”

  “Sorry. I run a business, based in Ghost Town, called GT-Fairshare. We help ghosts to reclaim property that was owned by them when they were alive.”

  “Let me get this straight. You take property from the human world and re-unite it with the original owners who are now in GT?”

  “More or less, but I can’t do it for just anyone. Only for those who have been treated unfairly when they were alive.”

  “How come your clients don’t simply come and get it themselves?”

  “You obviously aren’t familiar with the GT laws regarding importing property from the human world?”

  “Not intimately, no.”

  “It’s forbidden other than by licensed operators.”

  “And that’s you, I suppose?”

  “I’m one of them. It isn’t easy to become licensed; there are only four of us in the whole of GT. We have to prove we have a rigorous vetting system to ensure we only take on deserving clients.”

  “I assume that your current client is Lady Geraldine Hasbene.”

  “Yes, but she actually prefers to be called Gerry, these days.”

  “And she asked you to recover her jewellery?”

  “Not all of it; just six pieces in total. I’ve only managed to find four of them up to now.”

  “That’s a very good story—better than I was expecting.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That doesn’t mean I believe it. For all I know, it could be a pack of lies.”

  “I promise you it isn’t.”

  “I’d like to speak to her myself.”

  “Who? Gerry?”

  “Yes.”

  “I couldn’t possibly allow that. Client confidentiality and all that.”

  “I’d better give Constance Bowler a call, then.”

  “Hold on! I suppose I could make an exception just this once. When did you want to speak to her?”

  “Right now’s good for me.”

  “Now? But I don’t know—”

  “Oh, well. If you can’t, you can’t.” I took out my phone.

  “Wait! I’ll ring her now.” He made the call. “Gerry? It’s Rooky. No, I haven’t. There’s been a slight hiccup. There’s someone here who’d like to talk to you. No, not your husband. Actually, I don’t know her name.” He turned to me.

  “Jill Maxwell.”

  “It’s Jill Maxwell. She’s a witch but she can—. You have? Really? Okay then, we’ll be with you shortly.” He ended the call. “We can go over there now.”

  “Why can’t she come here?”

  “She hasn’t travelled back to the human world yet. It would take her ages to get the hang of it.”

  “Fair enough. We’ll go over there.”

  “Gerry said she’d read about you in the newspaper. She sounded quite excited about meeting you.”

  ***

  “You’ll have to excuse the mess in here, and the state of my hair.” Gerry was busy pulling out her curlers. “I wasn’t expecting guests. I was just about to make myself a cup of tea. Would you both like one?”

  “That would be nice, thanks.” My mouth felt like the bottom of a budgerigar’s cage. “Milk and one and two-thirds sugars, please.”

  “Why don’t I make it?” Rooky volunteered.

  “Thank you, Rooky. Shall we sit, Jill?” She gestured to the dining table.

  “Thanks for seeing me at such short notice.”

  “My pleasure. It’s not every day I’m visited by a celebrity.”

  Hey, did you hear that? She just called me a celebrity.

  Gerry continued, “I can’t wait to tell them at the bridge club that I had the famous Jill Maxwell over for tea. I almost didn’t recognise your name, but then I remembered reading recently that you’d got married.”

  “My wedding was reported over here?”

  “It wasn’t a news article. I think your parents put a piece in the paper about it.”

  “Really? I had no idea.”

  “Rooky said you wanted to speak to me?”

  “Yes. I’ve been hired by your husband, Sir Arthur, to find out who’s been stealing the jewellery.”

  “Oh dear. I was hoping he might not notice if only a few pieces went missing. I should have known better. I’ll go and get them, so you can take them back to him.”

  “Before you do that, Gerry, will you tell me what motivated you to hire Rooky. Was it so you could wear the jewellery here in GT?”

  “No.” She laughed. “I’m not the same person now. I wouldn’t be seen dead wearing that stuff.”

  Seen dead? She was a ghost!

  “Then why?”

  “In my Will, I left everything I owned to my sister. Everything except for six pieces of jewellery that I bequeathed to Mrs Sykes. I figured she’d be able to sell them. She doesn’t have much money so losing her job must have hit her hard.”

  “Wait a minute. I understood from your husband that you hadn’t left a Will?”

  “I most certainly did. Arthur knew where it was.”

  “I don’t understand. Why didn’t he say so?”

  “Why do you think? The man always was greedy.”

  Rooky brought the tea through and joined us at the table.

  “Why didn’t you just get Rooky to recover the Will?”

  “When Gerry first approached me, that’s what she asked me to do,” Rooky said. “But I had to tell her it wasn’t pos
sible because I’m only licensed to bring over valuables. I’m not allowed to touch legal documents.”

  “That’s when I came up with the idea that Rooky could bring over the jewellery,” Gerry said. “I thought I could sell it, and then he could take the cash to Mrs Sykes. I just feel so sorry for her.”

  “She’s a nice woman.”

  “You’ve met her, then?”

  “I have. And your sister.”

  “I’ll go and get the jewellery for you.”

  “Don’t bother. I have a better idea.”

  ***

  Before returning to the human world, I called in on Constance Bowler.

  “Jill? To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “I’m actually after a favour.”

  “How can I help?”

  After she’d heard me out, she agreed to do what I asked.

  “When will you need them to be there?” she said.

  “Hopefully, I won’t, but if you could prep them to be ready for tonight at midnight, that would be great.”

  “Will do.”

  Back at Hasbene Hall, I found what I needed, then set the alarm on my phone, and lay down on the bed. At six-thirty, I went downstairs to find Sir Arthur.

  “Morning, Sir Arthur.”

  “Any news?”

  “Nothing, I’m afraid. There was no sign of the jewellery thief.”

  “Blast!”

  “Don’t worry. I know a few fences in this area. I’ll ask around to see if any of them have seen your jewellery.”

  “Fences? Are you talking about the type of person who sells on stolen property? Aren’t they a rather unsavoury bunch?”

  “They can be, but then I meet a lot of unsavoury people in the course of my work. I’ll be in touch if I find anything.”

  ***

  After I’d got back to Washbridge and parked the car, I called Jack.

  “Morning,” he said through a yawn.

  “Are you still in bed?”

  “Of course not. I’ve just had my shower.”

  “How was the new bed?”

  “It would have been better if you’d been in it with me, but yeah, it’s very comfortable. How was your night?”

  “Quiet. Nothing happened.” I didn’t have the energy to try to explain the intricacies of GT-Fairshare.

  “What are you going to do now? Are you coming home to catch up on your sleep?”

  “I’m too busy. I’ll be okay—I did manage to catnap. I’m just on my way to get a gallon of coffee before I nip into the office. I just wanted to speak to my darling husband first.”

  “That’s very sweet. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

  “About that. There’s a good chance I’ll be late in.”

  “How late?”

  “Very.”

  “How come?”

  “Do you remember that Sobers guy you were fawning over the other day?”

  “The care-home millionaire?”

  “That’s him. It turns out our Mr Sobers has been a naughty boy.”

  “What’s he done?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll update you when it’s all sorted.”

  “Okay. Take care. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. See you tonight.”

  Coffee Games was as quiet as I’d ever seen it, but then it was still early o’clock.

  “Morning.” The young woman behind the counter yawned.

  “A large cappuccino, please. Do you do breakfast cobs?”

  “Of course. Sausage, bacon or egg?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Which?”

  “Can I have them all on one cob?”

  “Sausage, bacon and egg?”

  “Yeah. Make it two eggs.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Draughts?”

  “There is, isn’t there?” I shivered. “Is there a window open somewhere?”

  “Not that kind of draft.” She held up a board game. “It’s draughts day.”

  “Right, no thanks. I’m more of a chess player myself.”

  What? It’s true. You should see my Benoni Defense.

  I’d no sooner taken my seat than who should appear, but—yes, you guessed it.

  “Morning, Jill.”

  “Mr Ivers? What are you doing here?”

  “Monty.”

  “Sorry, Monty. How come you’re here at this time of the morning?”

  “I’m meeting the shopfitters in a few minutes. Anyway, I might ask you the same question. How come you’re here so early?”

  “I was working all of last night, so I didn’t make it home.”

  “It sounds like you could do with a business partner. You should have taken me up on my offer when you had the chance.”

  “Oh well. My loss, I guess.”

  “Would you like a quick game of draughts while I wait for my men to turn up?”

  “Actually, I was just about to leave.”

  “Really?” He glanced at the full cup of coffee in front of me.

  “Yeah.” I downed the lot in one go. “Got to run. Bye.”

  Mrs V hadn’t yet arrived at the office.

  “What are you doing here at this time?” Winky stretched. “Bed catch fire?”

  “I’ve been hard at it all night.”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “I heard you’d had a new bed delivered.”

  “Very funny. I’ve been working on a case as it happens. Anyway, how do you know about the bed? Have you got our house staked out or something?”

  “I might have.”

  “That’s just creepy. By the way, have you finalised your outfit for the blind date with Crystal?”

  “Yes, I told you. It’s all about the YUCCIES now.”

  “If you say so.”

  “How’s the social media coming along?”

  “Like a dream. I’m tweeting, and posting to Facebook and Instagram like a pro.”

  “Good for you.”

  Mrs V arrived an hour later.

  “Jill? How come you’re here at this hour? Bed catch fire?”

  “Winky’s already cracked that joke.”

  “Sorry?”

  Whoops! That’s what comes of speaking when I’m still half-asleep.

  “I said—err—Jinky’s already cracked that joke.”

  “Who’s Jinky?”

  “She works in Coffee Games. I’ve been working on a case all night, so I called in there to grab a coffee before I came into the office.”

  “That’s an unusual name.”

  “It is, but then she’s an unusual woman.”

  “I see. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Not just yet. There is something I would like you to do, though.”

  “What’s that? It doesn’t involve the cat, does it?”

  “No. I’d like you to do some more research on Mark Sobers. Specifically, I’d like to know the address of the office where he’s based, and if you can find it, his home address.”

  “Have you made any progress on the Lakeview case?”

  “Nothing to report yet, but I’m getting closer.”

  “Okay. I’ll see what I can find on our friend, Mr Sobers.”

  “Jinky?” Winky laughed.

  “It was the best I could come up with. I sometimes forget that no one else can hear you speak.”

  “More’s the pity. People would benefit from my words of wisdom.”

  “When was the last time you said anything wise?”

  “Didn’t I recently update you on the state of modern day youth culture? If it wasn’t for me you’d know nothing about YUCCIES.”

  “And what a loss that would be.”

  Chapter 20

  I had my fingers crossed that no one had taken the job at Slurp coffee shop.

  “You’re always in here, darling.” The slimeball behind the counter treated me to another one of his creepy smiles. “I reckon you must fancy me.”

  “Is that job of yours still available?” I gestured
to the notice on the wall behind him.

  “Sure is. Fancy it, do you?”

  “What’s the pay?”

  “Minimum wage, of course.”

  “I was hoping for more.”

  “Minimum wage is all I can afford. Interested?”

  “Maybe. What are the hours?”

  “Six till one. Five days a week. You had any experience?”

  “Yeah, I’ve worked in a coffee shop before.”

  “You’ll still have to have a trial first, so I can make sure you know what you’re doing. If that goes okay, you can start next week.”

  “Fair enough. When can I take the trial?”

  “No time like the present. What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Jill.”

  Five minutes later, I was kitted out in an apron, and standing behind the counter.

  “Do you know your way around one of these?” He pointed to the coffee machine. It wasn’t exactly the same model as the one in Cuppy C, but it was very similar.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Off you go, then. I’ll be watching you.”

  “By the way, what should I call you?”

  “Sir.” He laughed. “Nah, call me Driller. Everyone does.”

  “How did you get that nickname?”

  “I worked on the oil rigs before I bought this place.”

  The door opened, and in walked two vampires.

  “Your first customers.” He nudged me. “Don’t forget, I’ll be taking notes.”

  Truth be told, I hadn’t exactly excelled behind the counter at Cuppy C, but after I’d finished serving the two vampires, Driller gave me the thumbs up. Clearly, his standards were much lower than those of the twins.

  “Just one more thing,” he said. “If you get any bigxies in here, I’ll serve them.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m the boss and I said so.”

  “Right, okay.”

  Over the next couple of hours, we had a mixed bag of customers: a dozen or more witches, slightly fewer wizards, five or six vampires, three werewolves, and a couple of elves. I was beginning to think I might not see a bigxie when two of them walked in together.

  “I’ll take this.” Driller practically pushed me out of the way. “Hi, guys. Your usual?”