Witch Is Why Time Stood Still (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 13)

by Adele Abbott

  “I understand. Thanks anyway.”

  There was no way I was going to be able to carry all that furniture inside by myself. After checking all around to make sure no one was watching, I cast a spell to shrink all the boxes and furniture. They were now small enough to fit inside a doll’s house. I quickly scooped them up, and carried them inside. Once I’d put everything in the correct room, I reversed the spell. Easy peasy!

  There was a knock at the door. If the storage men had come back, they were going to get a piece of my mind.

  “Mrs Rollo? Is everything all right?”

  “No. Something terrible has happened. Someone has stolen your furniture! One minute it was in the garden, and the next—” She stopped dead because she’d just spotted the furniture in the living room. “It’s in here?”

  “Yes, I managed to get it all inside.”

  “However did you do that so quickly?”

  That was a very good question.

  “I do a lot of physical work in my job, so it wasn’t difficult.”

  “Oh? Right.” She still looked puzzled. “All’s well that ends well, I suppose. I’d better be going. Bye, then.”

  Oh bum! I’d only just moved in, and I’d already given the neighbour reason to be suspicious of me. I’d have to be much more careful with my use of magic from now on.

  Jack eventually turned up just after nine o’clock that evening.

  “It’s been a long day. I’m shattered.” He glanced around. “Where’s all my stuff?”

  “Have you eaten?” I tried to change the subject.

  He checked the living room and dining room, and then made his way upstairs to the main bedroom. I followed.

  “None of my stuff is here. Didn’t they deliver it?”

  “Yes, it arrived okay.”

  He followed my gaze as I glanced at the spare bedroom. As he opened the door, a chair almost fell on top of him.

  “What’s it all doing in here?”

  “I thought it was only fair. I’ve lived in your flat for the last six months, and had to put up with your stuff.”

  “What do you mean put up with it? Couldn’t we have a mix? It doesn’t have to be one or the other. I’ve got some really good stuff in here.”

  “Where?”

  “These chairs for example.”

  They were beyond hideous.

  “You left me in the lurch today, so I had to do the best I could. My furniture was already set out by the time your stuff arrived,” I lied. “I thought it would be easier to put yours in here, and get things out as and when we need them.” Like never.

  He looked far from convinced. “Okay. I guess so.”

  We made our way back downstairs, and into the kitchen.

  “What on earth is that?”

  “That’s a ‘welcome’ present from our next door neighbour, Mrs Rollo.”

  “Yes, but what is it?”

  “A cake.”

  “You really should be more careful, Jill. After all the work she’d put into baking it, you go and drop it.”

  ***

  When I arrived at the office the next morning, Mrs V was chuntering away about something.

  “Are you okay, Mrs V?”

  “I’m fine. It’s the others that are the problem. How did your house move go?”

  “Jack had to work, so it was left to muggins here to sort everything out.”

  “Oh dear. I bet that was a disaster, then.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Organisation isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it, Jill? That’s why you have me.”

  “It actually went okay. We got all of my furniture out of storage. It looks great in the new house.”

  “What about Jack’s stuff?”

  “I put it all in the back bedroom.”

  “How does he feel about that?”

  “He’ll come around to the idea.” Eventually.

  “Anyway Jill, you and I need to have words.”

  Oh dear. That didn’t sound good.

  “I am rather busy this morning, Mrs V.”

  “That will have to wait. This is important. It’s about Jules.”

  I had a feeling it might be. “What about her?”

  “That young lady shows no respect for me at all.”

  “You never see one another. Jules works different days to you.”

  “I mean in the way she treats my possessions. Look, I’ll show you.”

  She beckoned me around the desk, and pointed to the bottom left-hand drawer. “This is my knitting drawer. And this.” She opened the bottom right-hand drawer. “This is my crochet drawer. Does that look like crochet to you?”

  The only thing in the drawer was a pile of magazines. “Don’t tell me Jules has thrown your crochet out.”

  “Good heavens, no. I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you now if she had. I’d be hunting her down.”

  “So where is your crochet?”

  “Here!” She opened the bottom left-hand drawer.

  “I thought you said that was your knitting drawer?”

  “It is, but if you look closely, you’ll see my knitting drawer now contains knitting and crochet.”

  “So, let me get this straight. Jules has moved your crochet out of that drawer, and put it into this one.”

  “Correct.”

  “Is that so terrible?”

  “That’s not all she’s done.” Mrs V glared at me. “Look! This is where I keep my patterns.”

  This time she was pointing to the middle right-hand drawer.

  “Does that look like patterns to you?”

  “No, it looks like makeup.”

  “Correct.”

  “It looks to me like Jules has taken the drawers on the right hand side of the desk, and left you with the drawers on the left.”

  “Precisely.”

  “But surely, now you’re sharing jobs, that’s only fair. Isn’t it?”

  “I might have known you’d side with her. How long have I worked for you, and your father before you?”

  “A long time.”

  “I think that entitles me to keep my wool, crochet and patterns in the drawer of my choice. Don’t you, Jill?”

  “Well—err—it—” I glanced at my office door. “Was that my phone?”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “I think it was. We’ll talk about this later.”

  I took that opportunity to slip through to my office. I’d needed that little outburst like I needed a hole in the head. At least I’d have some sanctuary in my own office.

  “Jill! This is an emergency,” Winky yelled.

  Once again, I’d spoken too soon.

  “What’s wrong? Have you run out of salmon?”

  “Nothing so trivial. Bella is leaving.”

  “What do you mean leaving?”

  “Leaving! As in going away. No longer here.”

  “I know what the word means, but why? She hasn’t run away with Socks again, has she?”

  Winky gave me his one-eyed death-stare. “No, she has not run off with Socks or anyone else for that matter. Bella and I are an item now. The humans she lives with have decided they’re going to live somewhere else.”

  “When did all of this happen?”

  “I’ve only just found out. Bella sent me a message via helicopter.”

  “How is she taking it?”

  “How do you think? She’s devastated.”

  “I’m really sorry, but I’m not sure what I can do about it.”

  “You’d better think of something, and quick, because if I lose Bella, I’m going to be terminally depressed. Do you really want to have to live with that?”

  I didn’t. It was bad enough living with a happy Winky. Living with a depressed Winky didn’t bear thinking about.

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not promising anything.”

  “If Bella leaves me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll probably sink into the depths of despair.” He put a
paw to his head.

  “Okay, enough of the amateur dramatics. I get it.”

  Chapter 6

  By the time Mrs V brought in my mid-morning cuppa, she seemed a little brighter.

  “How’s Armi, Mrs V?”

  “He’s very well, thanks. We had a lovely weekend. We went to the Washbridge carnival on Saturday. Armi won a coconut.”

  “That’s great. Has Armitage, Armitage, Armitage, and Poole moving out of here had much of an impact on your relationship?”

  “Of course—it was inevitable. When Armi worked next door he could pop in during the day, or I could go around there. It was only for a few minutes—perhaps a cup of tea or a chat, but we both enjoyed it. Since they moved across town, I only get to see him at weekends or occasionally in the evening.”

  “How’s he taking it?”

  “He didn’t want to move, but he didn’t have a say in it. It was Gordon who was calling the shots, as always. Once Gordon realised he was never going to get you out, he decided to cut his losses, and find new offices. The only good thing that came out of it is that we don’t have to put up with that awful Gordon Armitage. I certainly don’t miss him.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Have you heard anything from the landlord about who our new neighbours are likely to be, Jill?”

  “No. I’ve spoken to Zac a couple of times. He said there were a few interested parties, but there’s nothing concrete yet. It could be empty for some time, I guess. But, let’s be honest, whoever we get can’t be any worse than Gordon Armitage.”

  “That’s true.”

  I’d just taken a sip of my tea when Kathy walked into the office.

  “How come you always turn up when I’ve got the custard creams out?”

  “Is there a time when you don’t have them out?”

  “I suppose you want one?”

  “Two actually.” She grabbed them before I could snatch the packet away. “A cup of tea would be nice, too.”

  “Mrs V!” I shouted. “Would you make Kathy a cup of tea, please?”

  “How’s the job-sharing going between Mrs V and the new girl?” Kathy asked.

  “Her name is Jules, and it’s not going great. There’s a certain amount of friction.”

  Mrs V brought Kathy’s tea through. “There you go. It’s nice to make tea for someone who has uncomplicated sugar requirements.”

  “Thank you, Mrs V.” Kathy smiled. “How’s the knitting going?”

  “It would be going a lot better if I could find my patterns. My desk isn’t my own anymore.”

  “I see what you mean,” Kathy said, after Mrs V had gone back to the outer office. “Sounds like a storm in a teabag.”

  “Cup.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a storm in a teacup not a storm in a teabag.”

  “Why do you always have to be so pedantic, Jill? So what has Jules done to upset Mrs V, exactly?”

  “She’s commandeered some of the drawers in Mrs V’s desk. Mrs V is none too impressed, but it’ll all come out in the wash.”

  Kathy took a slurp of tea—and I do mean a slurp. Gross!

  “I must say, Jill. I never thought you’d get around to doing it.”

  “Doing what? Getting my own house?”

  “No. Getting a new sign for this place.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I’m not mad on the colours, but at least it has your name on it.”

  “What’s wrong with the colours?”

  “White text on orange? It doesn’t really say private investigator to me. More tanning salon.”

  “You never did have an eye for colour.”

  “If you say so. Has anyone moved in next door yet?”

  “Not yet, but I don’t imagine it’ll stay empty for long. This part of Washbridge is still very popular.”

  “Anyway, the real reason I popped over is, I’ve got two bits of news to tell you.”

  “Good or bad?” I already knew the answer; Kathy was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Good news. Definitely good news. Which would you like first, the good news or the gooder news?” Kathy laughed at her own joke.

  “Hey, this is my office. I do the comedy routines in here.”

  “Can’t say I’d noticed.”

  “Cheek! Go on, what’s the good news?”

  “I’ve got four tickets for the hottest show in town.”

  “Four? So, that’s one for you, one for Peter, one for Lizzie and one for Mikey?”

  “No, it’s not a kids’ thing. The tickets are for me, Pete, you and Jack.”

  “Tickets for what?”

  “I’ve already told you; it’s the hottest show in Washbridge. These tickets are like gold dust.”

  “According to you. What is it?”

  “You’ll thank me when I tell you.”

  “If you ever get around to it.”

  “You know Ultimate Factor, right?”

  “Is that that awful talent contest on TV?”

  “There’s nothing awful about it. It’s the top rated program across all the networks.”

  “It’s still rubbish.”

  “How would you know? Have you ever watched it?”

  “I don’t need to watch it to know it’s rubbish. It’s a talent contest. All the acts in talent contests are rubbish.”

  Oh bum. What had I just said?

  “Have you forgotten that Lizzie regularly enters talent contests? Are you saying she’s rubbish?”

  “No, no. Of course not. That’s different, obviously. I just meant TV talent contests. Anyway, what’s this got to do with the tickets you’ve bought?”

  “They’re for Ultimate Factor Live. The top acts from the previous year’s show go out on tour, and they’re coming to the Washbridge Arena.”

  “Washbridge Arena?” I laughed. “Don’t you mean the Astoria?”

  “They’ve renamed it. It’s now the Washbridge Arena.”

  “It’s not even an arena. It’s just a poky old theatre.”

  “Well, anyway, Ultimate Factor Live is coming there, and I have four tickets.”

  “I don’t want to go, and Jack certainly won’t.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. He’s totally up for it.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t go to Jack behind my back.”

  “I knew if I asked you first, you’d say ‘no’.”

  “So, you did go behind my back?”

  “See, when you say it like that, it sounds bad. Did you know that Jack is a big fan of Ultimate Factor?”

  “He watches all kinds of rubbish on TV. I usually go into the other room to listen to music. Classical, obviously.”

  “Which composer?”

  Oh bum! Quick, think of a composer! “Bach.”

  “Bach, eh? What in particular?”

  “I like all his stuff.”

  “Stuff? I’m not sure Bach wrote stuff.”

  “Anyway, when is this show?”

  “In a couple of weeks.”

  “Great. Can’t wait.”

  “You do know who won last year’s Ultimate Factor, don’t you?”

  “How would I know. Was it a performing gerbil?”

  “Now you’re just being stupid. You should know—you could have been one of them.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you remember Lizzie’s first talent contest?”

  How could I forget? “Yeah?”

  “We saw them perform there—The Coven.”

  “You mean those three women in the sparkly leotards?”

  “That’s them. Didn’t you say they’d asked you to join them?”

  “Yeah, they did.”

  “Looks like you missed a golden opportunity there. If you’d joined them, you’d be a superstar now. They must be making a packet what with the tour and the TV appearances.”

  “Are you sure we’re talking about the same people?”

  “Yeah, they won by a landslide of votes.”

 
“How?”

  “People love them. They especially like the bit at the end of their routine where they get down on one knee, then jump up and say—”

  “We. Are. The Coven.”

  “Yeah. That goes down a bomb.”

  “They wanted me to be the ‘The’. If I’d agreed to join them—”

  “You would have been rich and famous now.”

  “Well, that’s depressing. And that was your good news, apparently. What’s your gooder news?”

  “First, you must promise you won’t say a word to your grandmother.”

  “What have you done now? Have you broken something in the shop?”

  “No, I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve been offered a job.”

  “In another wool shop?”

  “No. At Wool TV.”

  “Doing what? Making the tea?”

  “Cheek. No. Somebody saw me on the reality show they filmed in Ever. When one of their presenters left recently, he suggested me as his replacement. They called, and asked me to go in for a chat, but it sounds like the job is as good as mine.”

  I was lost for words. My sister was about to become a TV presenter, and I’d thrown away the opportunity to be a rich superstar. Things kept on getting better and better.

  ***

  I’d promised Alan that I’d investigate what he was convinced was the poisoning of his two friends. He’d given me their names and contact details. One of them was still in hospital.

  It was the first time I’d visited the Candlefield Hospital—it was an impressive building located a couple of miles from the centre of town. I started at the reception desk.

  “Could you tell me where I can find David Warren?”

  “Warren, you say? Is that W-A-R-R-E-N?”

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  “And you are?”

  “I’m his sister, Isabelle Warren.”

  The woman, a young werewolf, checked her computer screen.

  “Oh yes. He was brought in a few days ago. He’s on Cosmo ward; that’s on the third floor.”

  “Will I be able to see him now?”

  “Yes. Visiting times are anytime between ten am and seven pm.”

  As I was supposed to be this guy’s sister, I could hardly ask one of the nurses which one of the patients was David Warren. Instead, I walked down the ward, glancing left and right at the notes that were attached to the end of each bed.