by Adele Abbott
I was too stunned to reply.
“Jill!” Mrs V opened one eye and then closed it again. She was flat out on the leather sofa. On the floor beside her were another empty wine bottle and two glasses.
“What are you going to do about it?” Winky sprang onto my desk. “You should sack her sorry backside.”
“What happened here?”
“Some ugly woman, with a boil on her nose, turned up last night.”
Harsh but true. I let him continue.
“I think she was looking for you. Anyway, I heard them cackling on about knitting and such, and the next thing I knew, they went out together. Good riddance I thought, but then they turned up again in the middle of the night, smashed off their faces. They were singing—if you could call it that—and dancing. I almost got skewered on a high heel. Then, about two o’clock, they both passed out.”
Kathy called me a little after nine. I still wasn’t her favourite person, but she’d come through with the carpet cleaners’ name. I didn’t feel too guilty at having disturbed her sleep—I figured she owed me after dragging me to the theatre and the circus.
Mrs V and Grandma were still out for the count, and looked as though they would be for some time. Winky was driving me insane with his self-righteous complaining. He sensed an opportunity to get rid of his nemesis, and he wasn’t going to let it pass. I didn’t want to be around when the lush sisters woke up. Grandma was bad enough at the best of times. I couldn’t imagine what she’d be like with a hangover. And besides, if I had to listen to one more minute of Winky’s moaning, I’d throw him out of the window.
It took all of my charm. What? I can be charming when I want to be. Anyway, it took every ounce of it to persuade the man behind the counter at the carpet cleaners to check which of their operatives had attended the Fiona Digby call-out. From there, I soon caught up with the operator in question. Another dose of charm later and I had the information I needed.
Fiona Digby did not want to know. I buzzed her from the gate, but she refused to let me in. “I’ve nothing more to say on the matter,” she said, and then cut me off. I buzzed a dozen more times, but she continued to ignore me.
I’d memorised, but hadn’t yet tried to use the ‘levitate’ spell. The wall was easily ten feet tall, and I’d never been any good at climbing. As a kid, Kathy had scaled trees with little or no effort. I’d been too scared and way too clumsy. She’d goaded me from high in the branches. Even if I had been able to climb, I didn’t like the look of the razor wire on top of the walls and gates that surrounded Fiona Digby’s house. Levitation it was then.
I walked to the rear of the property where it was more secluded. After making sure there was no one around, I cast the spell. It felt weird—really weird, as I began to rise off the ground. I’d asked Aunt Lucy if I was able to fly now that I was a witch. Much to my disappointment, it turned out that only the most experienced witches like Grandma could fly, and even then only under very special circumstances. The ‘levitation’ spell was the closest thing I had to flying. It was a painfully slow process, but eventually I was above the wall. Horizontal movement was much more difficult, and it took all of my concentration to propel myself forward and clear of the wall. Now all I had to do was to lower myself down slowly—
Ouch! I hit the ground with a thud, knocking the wind out of me. My knees and elbows were scuffed, but nothing appeared to be broken. I was such an idiot! The spell offered two ways to descend: The slow, steady one—similar to the way I’d levitated, and the fast, instant one. Guess who’d used the wrong one? If Grandma ever found out, I’d be in detention for a week.
I made my way to the house, and peered through the French windows. There was no sign of Fiona Digby. Keeping close to the wall, I edged my way to the next window. The kitchen was also empty.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Fiona Digby appeared at the side of the house. “Get off my property before I call the police!”
“Be my guest. You can tell them how you arranged your husband’s murder.”
Her face was suddenly red with rage. “Get out! Get out of here now!”
“Did you actually love Harrison or were you just using him?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You aren’t going to deny you had an affair with Harrison Scott, are you? I have witnesses.”
“It was hardly an affair. Just a silly fling. And who could blame me?”
“Maybe not for having an affair, but murder and conspiracy to murder, that’s a whole different ball game.”
“You’re insane!” She spat the words. “Harrison Scott swapped the knife that killed my husband, and then killed himself because of the guilt.”
“That’s certainly what you’d like people to think, but it isn’t what actually happened is it, Mrs Digby? You killed Harrison Scott.”
“Now I know you’re crazy. How am I meant to have killed him? He was a mountain of a man. Do you really think I could have thrown him off the cliff? And what about the suicide note?”
“When you told me about your time at university, you conveniently forgot to mention one of your skills.”
For the first time, I thought I saw apprehension register on her face.
I continued. “I’ve seen one of the posters from back then. You were billed as a hypnotist. That’s how you got Harrison to write the suicide note and to walk off the cliff edge.”
“That’s nonsense. You can’t prove any of that.”
“Actually I can.” I fished the photocopy of the suicide note out of my pocket. “Harrison wrote this—it’s in his handwriting, but you dictated it. I’ve had to suffer his play twice now, and I’ve read his script. He didn’t appear to know the word ‘only’ existed. He always used the word ‘just.’ Not once in a one hundred page script did he ever use the word ‘only’ and yet here,” I tapped the note. “Here, in this short note, he uses that word twice.”
“That proves nothing.” She was trying her best to appear calm, but her voice was wavering.
“By itself, maybe not. But then there’s the red clay. When I was here before, you had the carpet cleaners in. I’ve checked with them, and they confirm that you called them in to remove the red stains from your carpet. It was raining on the day you met Harrison at Moston, so the red path would have coated your feet and the dog’s paws.”
“All speculation. You can’t prove a thing.”
“The CCTV says otherwise. It has you arriving in the car park shortly after Harrison, and then leaving shortly after the time of his death,” I lied. It was a gamble, but I had to try.
Fiona Digby broke down in tears. “I loved that man more than life itself. All he ever did was cheat on me. I couldn’t bear it any longer.”
“Bruce?”
“Of course, Bruce. Do you think I could love someone like Harrison Scott? The man made my skin crawl.”
“But you used him anyway?”
“He didn’t need much persuading to swap the daggers. He hated Bruce with a passion.”
“Why kill Scott?”
“He thought that once Bruce was dead, I’d want to be with him. I told him it was over but he wouldn’t accept it. He threatened to go to the police unless I agreed to stay with him. I could never live with a man like that. He had a manky toe.”
Chapter 18
“I guess that’s another case I’ve solved for you,” I said, trying not to smirk.
We were in the same seats, at the same table, in the same interview room that we’d been in after the ‘Animal’ case.
“I know you think you’re helping, but you aren’t,” Maxwell said. “That lie about the CCTV could have jeopardised the whole case.”
“The case that you had already filed as complete?”
“If you had your suspicions, you should have brought them to me.”
I laughed. “And you’d have done what exactly?”
“They’d have been processed through the official channels.”
“Whi
ch is cop-talk for ‘do nothing’.”
“The law is not some kind of game.”
“Just as well or you’d be getting your ass handed to you.”
“This is the last time I’m going to tell you to stay out of police business. Stick to following cheating wives.”
“Husbands cheat too, you realise?”
“Whatever. Stick to what you know.”
Stick to what I know? Cheek! What I knew was that he was on the verge of getting my fist in his face. But then, assaulting a police officer in a police station—probably not a great idea.
“I think we’re done here.” Maxwell stood up.
I followed him out of the door. “If you’re struggling with any more cases and need help, you know where to find me.”
“Goodbye Ms Gooder.”
As I left the police station, I couldn’t help but wonder if Dad would have had a better relationship with Maxwell. Was I so difficult to get along with or was the man simply impossible?
Grandma was nowhere to be seen when I got back to the office. Mrs V was at her desk, but looked like death waiting in line to be warmed up.
“Good afternoon!” I said.
“Not so loud, Jill, please.” She was holding her head, and there was a packet of aspirin on the desk. “I’m feeling a little delicate.”
“Can’t say I’m too surprised. Where is Grandma?”
Mrs V shrugged. “She’d gone when I woke up.”
“When exactly did you wake up?”
“When that stupid cat decided to sit on my head.”
I laughed. “Sorry, that’s not funny.” Hilarious, more like. If only I’d been there to see it. “What time was that?”
“About an hour ago, I suppose.”
“How do you know Grandma anyway?”
“I didn’t until yesterday.” Mrs V was struggling to keep her eyes open. “She came to see you, and we got talking about knitting. One thing led to another and the next thing I know, I’m waking up with that stupid cat on my head.”
“Where did the two of you go?”
“It’s a blur. I do remember some bare-chested sailors, and a boomerang.”
“Boomerang?”
“Would it be okay if I went home? I think it would be best if I went to bed.”
I helped her downstairs and into a cab.
“Why did you sit on her head?” I asked Winky.
“Her boobs were too uncomfortable.”
Gross. Erase image.
“And what exactly is up with that other old gal? She’s ugly enough to make milk curdle.”
“Do you mind? That’s my grandma you’re talking about.”
“Really? Oh deary me. I have seen your future and it isn’t pretty. You’d better break out the anti-ageing cream now.”
What a cheek. I checked the mirror—not a wrinkle in sight. What had Grandma looked like at my age? Had she been a looker or had she always been—? Ugly seemed such a cruel word.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I took a step back from my desk.
Winky gave me a puzzled look.
I used a ruler to lift them off my chair. Men’s white boxers with a picture of a boomerang printed on the crotch. How? Who? It didn’t bear thinking about. After dumping them in the bin, I wheeled my chair through to the outer office, and swapped it for Mrs V’s.
“Looks like those two old gals are getting more action than you,” Winky said.
“Shut it or you’ll be next in the bin.”
I was still seething as I drove to Candlefield. I wasn’t sure what made me angrier, the thought of those boxers or Winky’s snide comments. I could get action if I wanted it. Any time at all. No problem.
This journey was more than likely going to prove to be a complete waste of time. It was supposed to be my day for a lesson with Grandma, but I had a feeling it would be cancelled, judging by the state she’d been in the night before. If only I could get the image of that boomerang out of my head.
The twins were waiting for me outside Grandma’s house.
“We’ve knocked, but she hasn’t answered,” Amber said.
“Big surprise,” I said under my breath.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Pearl sounded concerned.
“I’m sure she’s fine.” Apart from the hangover to end all hangovers. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to get a lesson today though.”
The door flew open. “And what makes you think that, young lady?” Grandma looked even worse than usual, and that was no mean feat. “Don’t just stand there. Come on in, then!” She ushered us inside.
The twins exchanged glances with one another, and then with me. They could sense Grandma wasn’t herself.
“If you’re feeling a little under the weather?” I said. “We could always postpone today’s lesson.”
The twins stared at me as though I’d lost my mind, or had some kind of death wish.
Grandma looked at me. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.”
Yes! Result! Let me out of here.
“After all, you’re already a competent witch, aren’t you Jill?”
“I guess so.” Where was this leading? Nowhere good.
“You guess so?” Her expression changed. “You guess?”
Oh no. What had I said?
“Tell me, Jill. How competent were you when you fell head over broomstick during the ‘levitation’ spell?”
How did she know about that? Before I could ask, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers. There, above our heads was some kind of thought-bubble. I watched in horror as I saw an image of myself levitating above the wall at Fiona Digby’s, and then dropping like a brick on the other side. The twins collapsed in a fit of giggles—but not for long.
“And what are you two laughing at?” Grandma turned her gaze on them.
“Nothing.”
“Sorry, Grandma.”
“It seems to me,” Grandma said, with no trace of a hangover. “All three of you have a lot to learn. Wouldn’t you agree?”
We all said, “Yes.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear that.”
“Yes, Grandma.”
By way of a change, Grandma decided we should go to the Spell-Range. I’d no idea what that was, but was too afraid to ask her, so I interrogated the twins en-route. It turned out that all sups had their own private areas within Candlefield. An area where they could exercise, practise and generally be themselves. There were separate areas for witches and wizards, werewolves, vampires and every other type of sup. It was strictly forbidden for any sup to enter a Range other than their own.
“Do you go to the Spell-Range often?” I asked the twins.
“Not really. It’s difficult to find time now we have the shop,” Pearl said.
Grandma huffed. “Lame excuse. The two of you had to be dragged here even before you opened Cuppy Tea.”
“Cuppy C,” Amber corrected meekly.
“Whatever.”
“Jill.” Pearl tapped me on the shoulder. “Mum says you should join us all for dinner afterwards.”
“Okay, that’ll be nice.”
“I doubt that,” Grandma said. “Not if Lucy is cooking.”
“Will you be coming too, Grandma?” Amber asked, with her fingers crossed behind her back.
“Unfortunately yes,” Grandma replied. “Your mother insisted. Said she had some kind of important announcement, but wouldn’t say what. Do you two have any idea what it might be?”
The twins shook their heads.
“She’s probably bought a new pair of glasses or changed her brand of washing powder.” Grandma sighed. “You know how excited she gets about that type of stuff.”
“The beauty of Spell-Range,” Grandma said, “is that you have the freedom to practise more adventurous spells here.”
We were inside a walled area, which was at least one-quarter mile square. We’d entered through huge metal gates, which were patrolled by guards. Unlike the rest of Candlefield, where everyone mixed t
ogether, the Ranges were restricted to a single class of sup.
There were witches and wizards of all ages—from youngsters not much older than Kathy’s kids, to men and women of Grandma’s generation. The area was so large that there was plenty of room for each group to do their own thing without disturbing the others. I looked around and recognised some of the spells that were being practised. To my right, a girl, no more than ten years of age, was lifting an anvil above her head—the ‘power’ spell, no doubt. A boy in his teens was racing at incredible speed around the far corner of the square—the ‘faster’ spell.
“Are you with us, Jill?” Grandma’s voice snapped me back to earth.
“Sorry. I was just watching—”
“Never mind what anyone else is doing. Focus on your own work!”
“Sorry.”
“Today we’re going to practise the ‘grow’ spell.”
The twins groaned in unison.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Grandma turned on them.
“No, sorry. It’s just that—” Pearl began, but then thought better of it.
“Carry on. Spit it out. We all want to hear.”
“Yes, spit it out, Pearl.” Amber was enjoying her sister’s obvious discomfort.
Pearl gave Amber a look, and then turned back to Grandma. “It’s just that the ‘grow’ spell is level one and we’ve been on level two for some time.”
“So, you think you’re too good to practise?”
“No. No, that’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“Nothing, sorry.”
“And you can take that smirk off your face, Amber.”
“Sorry.”
The ‘grow’ spell was one I’d memorised, but not yet had a chance to try out. The theory was that you cast the spell on a plant, bush or sapling to make it grow. That explained why Grandma had walked us over to a section of the Range where there were rows and rows of saplings which must have been planted specifically for that purpose. Behind the saplings were rows of more mature trees of varying sizes, which had presumably been ‘grown’ by other witches practising the same spell.