Witch is When My Heart Broke (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 9)

by Adele Abbott

  “Where’s Peter?”

  “He got a job at the last minute. He can’t make it.”

  “Does that mean he’s not going to the fancy dress party? If he’s not going, I’m not going.”

  “Pete is going. He’ll have to get his costume later today or tomorrow.”

  “Where is this place anyway?” I moaned. “This had better not take long. It’s my date with Lou tonight.”

  “Don’t panic. You won’t be late for Looooooo.” Kathy mocked. “The shop is just around the corner.”

  Party Poppers sold absolutely everything to do with parties. There were balloons, streamers, party poppers (obviously), and costumes of every type imaginable. As soon as I stepped inside, I sensed that the people working in there weren’t human. They were sups; all three of them. One was a vampire, one a wizard, and the other, a werewolf. They’d clearly sensed I was a sup too; I could tell from the knowing looks they gave me.

  “How can I help you, madam?” the young female vampire asked Kathy.

  “We’re going to a fancy dress party. I’m looking for a vampire outfit, and my sister is looking for a witch’s outfit.”

  The young vampire laughed, but then checked herself.

  “Is something the matter?” Kathy said.

  “Err—no. Sorry, madam. The vampire outfits are just here, and the witch’s outfits are over there. Perhaps you’d like to take a look at these while I help your sister?”

  “Okay,” Kathy agreed. “You go with her, Jill, and make sure you pick something nice.”

  I followed the vampire to the far corner of the shop. “What are you doing?” she said when she’d made sure we were alone.

  “Buying a fancy dress outfit.”

  “But you are a witch.”

  “I know I’m a witch, but my sister doesn’t. She’s a human.”

  “How can you be sisters if she’s human?”

  “I was adopted.”

  “Was it her idea for you to go to the fancy dress party as a witch?”

  “What do you think?”

  “That’s too funny.”

  “I’m glad you think so. It’s unusual to find a shop in Washbridge staffed entirely by sups. Do you three own this place?”

  “I wish. The owners are a witch and a wizard who live in Candlefield. Charlie manages this place; Neil and me just work here. The three of us share a flat too; a loft here in Washbridge.”

  “Doesn’t it get a bit much working and living together?”

  “It can do.” She pointed to the rack of costumes next to her. “These are all the witch outfits we have.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Look at these. No self-respecting witch would wear these. They’re way too skimpy. Where are the authentic witch outfits?”

  The vampire looked around again to make sure we still couldn’t be overheard.

  “When we first opened the shop, we stocked nothing but authentic witch costumes, but nobody would hire them. Everyone said, ‘That’s not what witches wear’. What could we do? We knew it was exactly what witches wore, but if we’d stuck to our guns, we’d have been bankrupt within the first few months. So, in the end, we had to look at what all the other shops were doing, and copy them. These are really popular.”

  “But they’re nothing like what a witch would wear.”

  “I know, but it’s all we’ve got. I’ll leave you to choose one. I’d better go and see how your sister’s doing.”

  I worked my way through the shelf of so-called witch costumes, and picked out the least skimpy one I could find. It was still a good three inches shorter than I would have liked, and way too low on the neckline, but it was the best I could do. I grabbed a hat too. That was just as ridiculous; all bendy and crumpled. No Candlefield witch would have been seen dead in it.

  When I caught up with Kathy and the vampire, Kathy was trying out some false fangs.

  “Duy thes lick lack rail fungs?” she mumbled, through a mouth full of fangs.

  “Sorry, madam.” The vampire looked puzzled. “I can’t tell what you’re saying.”

  Kathy slipped the fangs out of her mouth. “I said, do these look like real fangs? Jill? What do you think?”

  I shrugged.

  The vampire opened her mouth and I could see her real fangs. She turned to Kathy and said, “Look, they look realistic on me, don’t they?”

  Kathy stared into the vampire’s mouth and nodded. “They do look much better than I thought they would. Go on then, I’ll take these.”

  We paid for our outfits, and on our way out, Kathy said, “My husband will be in later. He’s going to the party as a werewolf. Do you have plenty of werewolf costumes?”

  “Dozens. Tell him to ask for Charlie. He’s our werewolf expert.” She pointed to the man standing close to the door.

  Charlie was way more than just an expert.

  ***

  The little black number hadn’t been very lucky for me. This time I’d gone for a little red number, and although I say it myself, I looked super sexy in it. Lou had called me during the day to confirm he’d reserved a table at Hotel Lake, which was one of the top hotels in Washbridge; it was a four-star, if I wasn’t mistaken. Its restaurant had an excellent reputation.

  We’d arranged to meet in the bar. I arrived a few minutes early; Luther turned up shortly after.

  “Jill, you look stunning. Have you been here before?”

  “No, this is my first time, but I’ve heard the food is really good.”

  “Shall we have a drink before we go through?”

  “That would be lovely. I’ll have a small glass of dry, white wine, please.”

  Luther called the barman over and ordered the drinks. Then he took a handkerchief from his pocket, and began to rub the metal bar rail. How strange? Still, I guess everyone has their unusual habits. After a few minutes, we made our way through to the restaurant. The maître d’ showed us to a quiet table in a corner. As we studied the menu, I could see Luther seemed rather distracted.

  “Is anything the matter, Lou?”

  “No, nothing. Have you decided what you’d like to eat yet?”

  “I’m happy to go with whatever you recommend.”

  Luther ordered for both of us. We chatted while we waited for our meals to be served, but again I could sense he was a little distracted. After a few moments, he took out his handkerchief, and began to rub the leg of the table.

  “I must say I’m a little disappointed,” he said. “A four-star hotel like this. You’d think they’d know how to keep these surfaces looking good. Really, it’s inexcusable. Don’t you think?”

  “I guess so, yeah.” Huh?

  He continued to polish the table legs. I couldn’t begin to understand why he was so interested in the finish of the metalwork.

  Our food arrived, and it was indeed excellent. We had salmon, which melted in the mouth. Eat your heart out, Winky! That was followed by Eton mess. I couldn’t have managed another morsel.

  “That was absolutely gorgeous,” I said, as we sipped our coffee. “Thank you so much, Lou.”

  “My pleasure, Jill. You’ve been delightful company. I’m just sorry that the state of the metalwork has rather tarnished the evening.”

  “I can’t say that I’d noticed it.”

  There was something very puzzling about all this. Why was Luther so obsessed with the finish of the metalwork? It was only chrome after all.

  Chrome! That was it! I remembered now.

  When I’d been at Luther’s flat, I’d noticed that most of his furniture was chrome and glass. In fact, I’d never seen so much chrome. When I mentioned it, he’d said that his brother worked at—where was it now? Oh yeah, of course—Chrome City, that was it. Luther said his brother had given him a good deal.

  Oh no! It couldn’t be. Could it?

  “Lou?”

  “Yes, Jill?”

  “Can I ask what your brother does for a living?”

&n
bsp; “Luther? He’s an accountant, didn’t you know?”

  “And you?”

  “I work at Chrome City.”

  “So you’re twins?”

  “That’s right. I thought you knew.”

  “And what’s your full first name?”

  “It’s Louis. You look confused, Jill.”

  “No, not at all.”

  Oh bum!

  ***

  Lou dropped me back at my flat. I got the distinct impression he was hoping to come in for a night cap, but I said I had a headache and needed an early night.

  Lou wasn’t Luther. Lou was Louis. Although they were identical in appearance, Louis didn’t have Luther’s sex appeal. And, who wants to listen to someone talk about chrome all night long? Not me. Compared to Lou, Luther the accountant seemed positively exciting.

  I’d no sooner got back inside my flat than the phone rang. It was Kathy. I was tempted to ignore it, but I knew that she’d catch up with me sooner or later. I might as well face the music now.

  “Hi.” Was all I could manage.

  “Oh dear. You sound happy—not! I assume tonight wasn’t a success. He didn’t stand you up, did he?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So what happened?”

  I considered lying, but it would have been pointless. Kathy could always tell.

  “It wasn’t Luther.”

  “What wasn’t Luther?”

  “The man I went on the date with, wasn’t Luther.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Jill. I thought you said he asked you out on a date—just the two of you?”

  “Lou did. Luther didn’t.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “It turns out that Luther has a twin brother called Louis who likes to be called Lou.”

  “Oh no. That’s too funny.” Kathy laughed. “You could not make this stuff up. Pete, come and listen to this. Jill’s just been on a date with someone she thought was her heart throb, Luther, but who turned out to be his twin brother, Louis. Have I got that right, Jill?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know why you two are laughing.”

  “Come on, Jill, even you must see the funny side.”

  “Not really, no. I’ve just spent the last few hours listening to someone talk about chrome.”

  “Chrome?”

  “Don’t ask. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

  Chapter 11

  Even though Tony Bow had been arrested, and was likely to be charged with murder, something about the Carly Baxter case was still bugging me. On a hunch, I’d arranged to meet Jean Cumberland again in Coffee Triangle. It was maracas day.

  “Hi again.” She shook her maracas. “I’m happy to help, but I’m sure I’ve already told you everything I remember about that day.”

  “I just have one very quick question.” I held out the necklace. “Do you recognise this?”

  “No, should I?”

  “It belonged to the woman who went missing.”

  “I heard on the news that a woman’s body has been found. Was it her?”

  “I’m afraid so. Please take another look at the necklace. Are you sure you don’t remember seeing her wearing it that day?”

  “I don’t, sorry. But then I doubt if I would have noticed.”

  “Okay, thanks anyway.” I made to leave.

  “Wait a minute,” she called after me. “We did take a few photos that day. Everyone took turns to take a group picture. The woman will probably be in them. Let me just check.”

  Jean flicked through the photographs on her smartphone. “Yes, there, look—she is wearing it.”

  In the photograph Carly Baxter could be seen standing with the customers. And there, around her neck was the necklace with the red stone in it. Gerry Baxter had been right; she had been wearing it on that day.

  ***

  When I got back to the office, Mrs V began to scramble around, and shoved something into the top drawer of her desk. She looked red in the face and very flustered.

  “Are you all right, Mrs V?”

  “Err—yes, I’m fine. Absolutely fine, Jill. Nothing wrong with me.”

  She didn’t look absolutely fine. In fact, she looked very guilty. She’d clearly been up to something she didn’t want me to know about. I was intrigued. Had she been reading “Hot Knitters Monthly” or “Raunchy Yarns”? Mrs V was obviously more of a dark horse than I’d realised.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me, Mrs V?”

  “Only that there’s been a strange noise coming from your office.”

  “Did you take a look to see what it was?”

  “I’m not going in there. That cat of yours might have turned into a werecat again.”

  “Hmm, yeah, I don’t think that actually happened.”

  “What about when his fur grew really long?”

  “That was just the ointment.”

  I stood and listened for a few moments. “You’re right, I can hear something. It sounds like some kind of motor. I’ll go and see what it is.”

  I braced myself as I slowly opened the door, and peered in.

  “What the—?”

  I stepped inside, and closed the door behind me. There was no need for Mrs V to witness this.

  Over by the window was a mini treadmill. And, guess who was on it? That’s right. You got it in one! My darling, psycho cat, Winky, who was wearing a fetching red and yellow headband, and listening to music on his headphones.

  He could barely get his breath, and looked as though he was about to collapse.

  “Winky! What are you doing?”

  He was lost in music.

  “Winky!” I tried again, but it was no good—he couldn’t hear a thing.

  I lifted one of the headphones, and then released it so it sprang back onto his ear—that got his attention. Shaking his head, and still a little dazed, he jumped off the treadmill.

  “What do you think you’re playing at?” he yelled.

  “I tried to get your attention, but you couldn’t hear me.”

  “You didn’t have to burst my eardrums!”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “I’ve a good mind to sue you for the damage to my ear. If you had any money, I would.”

  “What’s the treadmill for?”

  “You run on it. The concept isn’t that difficult to understand.”

  “I know what a treadmill is. I want to know why you have one.”

  “You’re to blame.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “You’re the one who said I was fat.”

  It was true. I had said that when he’d suggested he might bungee jump, but I hadn’t realised he’d taken it so much to heart.

  “So you’ve bought a treadmill?”

  “Actually, you’ve bought a treadmill.”

  “You used my credit card again?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve only just paid off the last bill!”

  “What else was I supposed to do? If you’d get me my own credit card, I wouldn’t need to borrow yours.”

  “Who would pay your credit card bill?”

  “You, of course.”

  “Right. And how much did this thing cost?”

  “Don’t panic. I haven’t bought it. It’s on hire, from hireafelinetreadmill.com.”

  “There isn’t such a thing.”

  “Want to bet?”

  ***

  Grandma had left a message that she wanted to see me, so I made my way over to Ever A Wool Moment. Kathy was run off her feet, as usual, so we just exchanged a quick ‘hi’. Grandma was in the back office, drumming her fingers on the desk.

  “You took your time, didn’t you?”

  “I only just got your message.”

  “Take a seat. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  What had I done this time? No doubt I was in trouble for something or other.

  “We’re coming up to the Levels AGM,” Grandma said, as though I knew what she was talking
about.

  “The what?”

  “AGM. You do know what AGM stands for, don’t you?”

  “Annual General Meeting?”

  “Very good! The Levels AGM is attended by all of the level six witches.”

  “I see.”

  “I have a lot of preparation to do for the meeting, so your sister is going to have to look after Ever for the next day or so.”

  Poor old Kathy. Snigger.

  “And you will be accompanying me to the AGM.”

  What? “Me? Why me?”

  “Because I say so.”

  “But didn’t you just say that it was for level six witches?”

  “I did.”

  “Doesn’t that mean that only level six witches can attend?”

  “Broadly speaking, yes. But every level six witch is allowed to take one assistant with them; you will be my assistant.”

  “How long is all of this going to take? I’m very busy.”

  “The AGM is only one day. You’ll just have to reshuffle your other work. The main item on the agenda this year is the possible introduction of a new level. Level Seven.”

  Suddenly, I recalled the words I’d heard the pendant say to me ‘You will take it to a new level’.

  “Hello?” Grandma shouted. “Have you dozed off?”

  “Sorry, Grandma. I was miles away. Where do you stand on the proposal to introduce a new level?”

  “I support the motion. In my opinion, there are way too many witches already at the top level, and some of them are totally inept. By introducing a new level, we can ensure only a truly elite witch will attain the highest level. So, you see, I have a lot of work to do, and I’ll need you to help me to prepare my case. And, on the day, you’ll be my girl Friday. You’ll do whatever I need you to, so that I can focus on the debate itself. Okay?”

  “Sure.” Like I had a choice.

  ***

  It was the evening of the fancy dress party. I knew there was no point in trying to get out of it because no matter what excuse I dreamed up, Kathy would see straight through it—just like she’d seen through my fake broken toe.

  I’d agreed to meet her and Peter outside the local community hall where the party was being held. Even though I’d resigned myself to having to be there, there was no way I was going to wear that skimpy, so-called witch outfit that I’d borrowed from the shop. It was horrible. No self-respecting witch would have been seen dead in it. Instead, I was wearing an authentic outfit; similar to the one I’d worn for the Levels competition. And, although I say it myself, I looked every inch the witch.