by Adele Abbott
“What do you want?”
“We’re from across the road. We—”
“We’re very busy.”
“We brought you this cake.” Jack held out the box. “It’s a welcome—”
“Thanks.” The man snatched the box from Jack’s hands, and then slammed the door shut.
“How rude!” I shook my head in disbelief.
“Maybe we just called at a bad time.”
Jack—ever the diplomat.
***
As I walked from my car to the office, the headline on The Bugle caught my eye:
Death Train
I called in at the newsagent, bought a copy, and quickly skimmed the lead article. It seemed there had been another murder on the Washbridge Flyer. It was the first I’d heard of it, but then Jack and I had been travelling back from his parents’ house on Sunday. According to The Bugle’s sources, which granted weren’t always reliable, a woman named Carol Strand had been found murdered in the corridor, close to the toilet. She had been stabbed.
This changed everything.
When I arrived at work, Desmond Sidings was seated in the outer office.
“This gentleman doesn’t have an appointment, but he insisted on waiting to see you,” Jules said.
“That’s okay. Would you like to come through to my office, Desmond?”
“I assume you’ve seen the news, Jill?”
“Yes, just now. I was away yesterday.”
“This could sound the death knell for the Washbridge Flyer. No one will want to travel on a train that is being stalked by a serial killer.”
“Serial killer? Isn’t that a bit premature? What makes you think the same person committed the latest murder?”
“It wasn’t in the news reports, but the murder weapon was found this time. The police have confirmed it’s the same knife that was used to kill Gena Shore.”
“That certainly blows a hole in the theory that Gary Shore murdered his wife. It probably also means that Don Preston didn’t kill Gary Shore.”
“Who is Don Preston?”
“Gena Shore was having an affair with him. It turns out he was on the first trip too.”
“I had no idea.”
“Neither did the police until Friday. He was taken in for questioning about Gary’s death, but I suspect this latest incident means he will have been cleared from their enquiries.”
“I have no faith in the police based on what they’ve done so far. Are you still working on the case?”
“I am, but there’s a good chance the Ganders may no longer require my services after the events of yesterday.”
“Either way, I’d like you to stay on the case, and report to me. Would you do that? Obviously, I’ll pay you for your time.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Great.” Sidings stood up, and shook my hand. “We need to find the killer quickly or The Flyer will go out of business.”
What a result! I was now being paid twice for working on the same case.
“What are you looking so pleased about?” Winky appeared from under the sofa. He was pushing a roll of tin foil ahead of him.
“I’m getting paid twice for working on the same job.”
“I’m still amazed that you get paid at all.”
“Less of the cheek. What’s with the roll of tin foil?”
“This is my get-out-of jail card with Big Gordy.”
“How is that going to save you?”
“All will become clear in time.” He tore off a length of the foil.
Even though I had tons of work to do, I was fascinated to see what he was up to. Winky spent the next couple of minutes, folding the foil into shape. When he’d finished, he placed it onto his head.
“A hat? I don’t get it.”
“Surely, it isn’t that difficult to understand, even for you. It’s a tin foil hat.”
“I can see that. Don’t a few crazy people think that those hats will save them from aliens? I don’t think anyone believes they’ll work against mobster cats.”
“This is just the first of many.”
“Wearing more than one won’t make any difference.”
“They aren’t for me to wear. I intend to sell them. The proceeds from the sales will give me the cash I need to pay back Big Gordy.”
“You know that saying: clutching at straws? I think that must have been coined by someone in a similar situation to this. There’s one major flaw with this plan of yours.”
“Pray tell.”
“No one, repeat no one, is going to buy your tin foil hats.”
“We’ll see.”
***
As arranged, I got to Murray Murray’s house a few minutes before Lorenzo Woolshape was due to arrive.
“I’m not sure I understand what you have planned, Jill?” Murray said.
“I’m going to hide in the room where Lorenzo will be writing. That way, I’ll be able to see exactly what’s going on in there.”
“But there’s nowhere to hide in that room. The only furniture in there is the table and chair where he’ll be working.”
“You forget that I do this for a living. I can guarantee he won’t know I’m in the room with him.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.” He looked far from convinced.
“I am. You show him in, and as soon as he’s in the room, I need you to leave the house. Don’t come back until I phone you.”
“What about when he’s finished the chapter? He’ll expect to hand it over to me.”
“Let me worry about that.”
I left a very sceptical Murray in the main hall while I made my way to the writing room. Once inside, I made myself invisible, and then waited. Ten minutes later, Murray showed Lorenzo into the room. The expression on Murray’s face was a picture, as he tried to work out where I’d hidden.
Once Murray had left, Lorenzo walked casually around the room a couple of times, and then took a seat at the desk. But, instead of starting to type, he put his feet up onto the desk, and leaned back in the chair. Five minutes later, he was sound asleep.
I didn’t get it.
Lorenzo was still fast asleep two hours later when I suddenly became aware of a sharp drop in temperature. That could mean only one thing: a ghost. Had the colonel or Priscilla decided to drop in on me?
It was neither of them. The man who appeared was slim, bordering on skinny. His stubble was more blunt-razor than designer.
“Lorenzo!” He nudged the sleeping so-called writer. “Wake up!”
“What?” Lorenzo sat up in the chair. “I must have nodded off for a couple of minutes.”
A couple of minutes? He’d been out like a light for two hours.
“There you are.” The ghost handed over several type-written pages.
“Good man. Same time tomorrow?”
“Of course.” The ghost disappeared.
Lorenzo flicked through the pages, and nodded his approval. Then, after checking his watch, he made his way out of the room. I waited a couple of minutes, then hurried to the main hall and reversed the ‘invisible’ spell.
“Mr Murray had to go out,” I said.
“Oh?”
“He said you were to let me have today’s chapter.”
“Who are you?”
“Charlotte Charlotte. I’m Murray Murray’s PA.”
“Charlotte Charlotte?”
“That’s right. Now, if you wouldn’t mind?” I held out my hand.
He handed over the pages. “Shall I wait until Murray Murray comes back?”
“There’s no need. I’ll see he gets these. He asked me to confirm that you’ll be here the same time tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course.”
“In that case, I’ll bid you farewell.”
“Goodbye.” Still a little confused, Lorenzo left.
I now knew why Murray had heard no sounds coming from the writing room. Lorenzo had obviously employed a ‘real’ ghost to write the book for him. The ghost did all the work while l
azy Lorenzo snoozed. Not a bad little gig! What was I supposed to tell Murray? I could hardly tell him the truth. Instead, I phoned him, and told him that so far, I’d seen nothing untoward take place. Before he could bombard me with questions, I cut short the call with the excuse that I had another, urgent appointment to keep.
Chapter 11
I magicked myself over to Aunt Lucy’s house because I wanted to check how she felt about the twins’ big news.
“Would you like a drink, Jill?”
“A cup of tea would go down a treat. The main reason I came over was to check on how you’re doing?”
“Me? I’m fine. Why?”
“I wondered how you felt about the twins’ news, now that it’s had time to sink in?”
“I couldn’t be happier. I can’t wait to be a grandma. Speaking of which, your grandmother isn’t very thrilled about the news.”
“Why ever not?”
“She says she can’t bear the thought of being a great-grandmother. She doesn’t mean it really. Deep down, she’s just as excited as I am.”
“Deep down?”
“Very deep.”
“By the way, thanks for letting me borrow the car the other day.”
“No problem. Did you go anywhere nice?”
“Not far. Just on the road to North Candle.”
“We used to go there quite often when the twins were kids. They loved the North Candle fun park. I heard that it closed down a few months back. Such a shame.”
“Hold on. Are you saying that road used to be the main route to the funfair?”
“It was the only way there. It used to get really busy at peak times. The funfair was essentially the only thing in North Candle. It must be like a ghost town there now.”
“Don’t bother with the tea, Aunt Lucy. Could I borrow the car again?”
“Of course. Where are you going this time?”
“I’m off to see a troll.”
***
As on my previous visit, I parked in the layby, and then walked over the bridge. And just as before, Cole jumped out and demanded money.
“It’s me. I came to see you last week.”
“Sorry. I haven’t made any money yet today, and I thought you were my first customer.”
“I’m afraid not, but I think I’ve discovered why there are far fewer people travelling this way.”
“Is someone stealing them? Have they blocked the road?”
“Nothing like that. Apparently, there used to be a popular funfair further down this road, but that’s now closed down, so there’s very little reason for anyone to travel this way, unless they happen to live in North Candle.”
“Oh dear.” He sat down on the bridge. “I suppose that means my customers will never come back?”
“It kind of looks that way. Why don’t you relocate to a different bridge? One with more—err—customers?”
“That’s easier said than done. There are more trolls than there are bridges to go around. I had to wait ages to get this one.”
“What about a well?”
“Sorry?”
“Why don’t you find yourself a well, like Timothy?”
“I’m a bridge troll. I wouldn’t know what to do in a well. You don’t know very much about trolls, do you?”
“Apparently not. Surely, there must be a bridge somewhere in Candlefield that hasn’t already been claimed?”
“The only way to find out would be to check the Troll Register.”
“Why don’t you do that, then?”
“It’s held in Troll House in the centre of Candlefield. I don’t like the city—it scares me.”
Oh boy!
“What if I was to take you there?”
“It’s appointments only. Do you have a phone?”
“Yes, why?”
“I could call them to see if they have any appointments today.”
“Okay.” I handed over my phone, and waited while he made the call.
“They have a cancellation in an hour’s time. Shall I tell them to reserve it for me?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
***
When we arrived in Candlefield, Cole took hold of my arm. He was obviously very nervous, which wasn’t altogether surprising because you didn’t see many trolls in the city centre.
I checked my watch. “We’ve got thirty minutes to kill. My cousins have a tea room not far from here. We could get something to eat and drink there while we wait.”
“Timothy is always banging on about a place he goes to, called Coffee Trolley. Do you think we could go there instead?”
“I guess so. I can’t say I’ve ever seen it. Where is it exactly?”
“On PidgeonToe Road.”
“Okay. That’s this way, if my memory serves me right.”
When we reached the coffee shop, I hesitated at the door. “Are you sure I’m okay to go in here?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Everyone in there is a troll.”
“It’s very popular with trolls, but anyone is allowed in.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Timothy told me all about it.”
Despite Cole’s reassurances, I still felt rather out of place, and it was obvious from the looks that I attracted, that they didn’t see many other sups in there. Still, I have to admit that those trolls made a mean cup of coffee, and the muffins were to die for.
We arrived at Troll House with five minutes to spare. Cole tried to get me to go inside with him, but I insisted that this was something he needed to do for himself. I waited on the steps outside, and amused myself by counting the number of wizards who walked by, wearing toupees. What can I tell you? I’m easily amused.
Twenty minutes later, when Cole re-emerged, I could tell it wasn’t good news.
“What happened?”
“There are no other bridges free. All they could do was put me on the waiting list.”
“Did they give you any idea how long you might be on there?”
“No. They just said I should expect a long wait. What am I supposed to do? I can’t live on what I’m making at the moment.”
Although I felt really sorry for Cole, there was nothing I could do to help, so I drove him back to his bridge, and wished him luck.
***
I’d promised to update Grandma on my trip to see Yvonne, so after magicking myself back to Washbridge, I called in at Ever. On arrival, I spotted two new Everettes busy at work. There was barely a free seat in the tea room; that would please Grandma.
She was in her office, poking her teeth with a toothpick.
“I see you’ve recruited some more Everettes.”
“It was the only way to get that sister of yours to stop complaining.”
“Do you have to do that with your teeth?”
“I’ve got a piece of cashew stuck. There! That’s got it!”
“Great.”
“What’s the skinny on the witchfinders?”
“You were right about Rex Wrathbringer.”
“Of course I was right. You didn’t need to go all the way up there just to confirm that.”
“If I could finish? Yvonne reckons that three of the top witchfinders have been tasked with taking me out.”
“What about me?”
“Yvonne seemed to think they were only interested in getting me. Anyway, as I was saying, there are three of them. She knew who two of them were: a pair who always work together. They’re brother and sister: Vinnie and Minnie Dreadmore. According to Yvonne, they have the highest kill-rate of all witchfinders except for one.”
“Did she give you a description?”
“They’re young—in their twenties, but they both have grey hair.”
“What about the third one?”
“They’re known only as The Rose. No one knows who he or she is, but they have the highest kill rate of all time.”
“It’s not much to go on.”
“It’s everything Yvonne knows. She’s taken a mas
sive risk in passing this information on to me. Not only is she betraying her former colleagues, but she’s also putting herself in danger.”
“Very noble, I’m sure. Have you seen anyone who fits the description of the brother and sister act?”
“No.”
“You should go and stay in Candlefield; it would be safer there.”
“No chance. TDO couldn’t drive me out of Washbridge, and neither will these witchfinders.”
“Just be careful. You know where I am if you need me.”
“Thanks, Grandma.” I turned to leave.
“Hold on. I wanted a quick word about Saturday.”
“What’s happening on Saturday?”
“It’s the ballroom dancing competition, of course.”
“How could I forget?”
“I’m going to need you to help on the day.”
“Doing what?”
“Organising the contestants, and looking after the judges. That kind of thing.”
“Why not? Seeing as Jack’s going to be here anyway. Was that all you wanted?”
“Just one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Be careful out there.”
As I made my way up the high street, I spotted two familiar faces seated next to the window in Coffee Triangle. Norman and Lules were deep in conversation, and seemed to be getting on famously. Norman said something, and Lules cracked up with laughter. Who knew that bottle tops could cause such hilarity?
“Jill!” Betty Longbottom called to me from across the road. “Do you have a minute?”
I crossed over to She Sells, which from the outside appeared to be buzzing.
“It looks like business is good?”
“Very. We’ve never looked back since the Crustacean Monthly article.”
“Is Sid here?”
“No. He’s on a scuba diving course. I’ll be going on it next week.”
“Are you planning a scuba diving holiday?”
“No.” She glanced around to make sure there was no one within earshot. “I have big news, but it’s top secret at the moment. Still, I guess it will be okay to tell you. It’s not like you have any friends you could blab to.”