Witch Is Why Another Door Opened (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 15)

by Adele Abbott

  “Concentrate, Lester, please!” Monica admonished him.

  “Sorry, Monica.” Lester went back to his paperwork.

  I figured I wasn’t helping Lester by hanging around. It was a difficult enough job without him having to worry about me looking on. I crossed the road, and went on my way. There wasn’t enough money in the world to get me to sign up to do that job.

  ***

  As I approached my office building, the woman in front of me squealed, and then tried to grab her hat, which was spiralling upwards. For a moment, I was a little confused because there was no wind to speak of. But then I realised that the hat was being pulled higher and higher by a very thin thread. Sitting on the window ledge of my office was Winky. He was holding what appeared to be a fishing rod. He’d hooked the woman’s hat, and was reeling it in. Fortunately, the woman didn’t seem to realise what had happened. She presumably thought it had just been blown off.

  I hurried upstairs and into the outer office. Waiting for me there was Norman. I’d telephoned him first thing that morning to ask him to come in.

  “Norman. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Would you mind holding on for just a few more minutes?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  I burst through the door of my office to find Winky sitting on the sofa. He was wearing the woman’s hat, and looking very pleased with himself.

  “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t go around stealing people’s hats.”

  “I was practising my fly fishing. And although I say it myself, I’m getting rather good at it.”

  “I don’t care how good you are. You mustn’t do it again.”

  “You’re such a spoilsport. Anyway, what do you think of the hat? Do you think it looks good on me?”

  “No I don’t. It looks ridiculous.”

  “How about this one, then?” He reached under the sofa, and brought out another hat—this one had a feather in it.

  “No. That looks even worse.”

  “Really? I thought the feather was rather fetching.” Once again, he reached under the sofa. This time, he produced a trilby. “How about this?”

  “Yeah. That suits you—” What was I saying? “Never mind the fashion parade. How many hats do you have under there?”

  “Twenty-six,” he said, proudly.

  “This has to stop! You can’t go around stealing people’s hats like this.”

  “How else am I supposed to practise fly fishing?”

  “You’re not. Can’t you find a hobby more suited to a cat?”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. Playing with a toy mouse or something?”

  “I don’t like mice.” He shuddered.

  “Anyway, this has to stop. What am I supposed to do with all these hats?”

  “I thought you could sell them at a car boot sale. We could split the takings sixty-forty.”

  I used the intercom to ask Jules to send Norman through.

  “I’m sorry about the delay, Norman. Take a seat.”

  “Have you found my bottle tops?”

  “Yes, I have, but before I tell you where they are, I need to discuss something else with you first.”

  “Okay?” He looked a little puzzled, but then Norman always looked a little puzzled.

  “Do you ever see Betty Longbottom?”

  “No. I haven’t seen her in ages.”

  “She’s done something rather silly.”

  “You mean when she dumped me?”

  “No. Something even sillier than that. It was Betty who took your bottle tops.”

  “Betty? Are you sure?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Did you know that she’s opened a shop?”

  “No. I didn’t. What kind of shop?”

  “It’s called ‘She Sells.’ It sells seashells and other marine paraphernalia. It’s on the high street.”

  “I still don’t understand why she took my bottle tops.”

  “She was having money difficulties. I believe she may have sold some of them to help finance the shop.”

  “If she needed money, why didn’t she just ask me?”

  “Would you have helped her?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “After the way she dumped you?”

  “Yeah, well, she’s still a friend, isn’t she?”

  I was beginning to see Norman in a totally different light. The guy was no rocket scientist, but apparently he had a heart of gold.

  “Do you want to take this to the police?”

  “The police?” He looked puzzled. “Why would I go to the police?”

  “Betty stole from you.”

  “I suppose she did, but I would have given her the bottle tops anyway, if she’d asked.”

  Betty Longbottom did not deserve this young man. He was far too good for her.

  “Shall I speak to Betty, and arrange for you to meet with her? You can discuss the best way to proceed with this between you.”

  “Do you think she’ll agree to see me?”

  Bless.

  Chapter 16

  Daze had agreed to meet me at Cuppy C. I arrived ten minutes early, and bought myself a cappuccino and a blueberry muffin. I was halfway through the muffin when Daze arrived.

  “Morning, Jill. Would you like a top-up?”

  “No, I’m okay, thanks.”

  Daze ordered herself a cup of tea and a round of toast with raspberry jam. I couldn’t help but admire Daze’s restraint when it came to muffins.

  “How did your patrol go in Washbridge Park, on the full moon?” I asked.

  “We didn’t catch a single rogue werewolf all night. Still, I suppose that’s a good thing.” She took a sip of her tea.

  Thank goodness I’d found Jerry Travers, and taken him back to the Range in Candlefield before Daze and her team had arrived.

  “So, what can you tell me about Candlefield Academy of Supernatural Studies?”

  “First off, no one calls it that. Everyone knows it as CASS.”

  “Do you know why you were selected to attend there?”

  “No, but then no one ever does. An invitation simply arrives at your door on or around your eleventh birthday.”

  “That must have been exciting for the eleven-year-old you?”

  “Scary, more like. I was terrified. I’d assumed that I’d be going to my local school, but then the invitation arrived, and that changed everything. At first, I didn’t want to go, but my parents persuaded me that it was too good an opportunity to pass up. What do they want you to give a talk on?”

  “What it’s like to be a human.”

  “I don’t understand?” Daze looked puzzled. “You’re not a human.”

  “I’m the closest thing to one they can get. Growing up in the human world, and not knowing that I was a witch, means that I have more insight than most.”

  “I guess so. Have you said you’ll do it?”

  “Yes. I didn’t see any reason not to. So, what exactly can you tell me about CASS?”

  “Where do I begin?”

  “Well to start with, where is it, exactly? Aunt Lucy did try to explain—she said it was somewhere in the north?”

  “It’s located on the very edge of the sup world—miles away from any populated area. It’s about as remote as it could be, and is surrounded by thick forests and mountains. The only access is by airship. I hated that air-ship—I’ve never been very good with heights.”

  “Why on earth did they choose to build a school in such a remote spot?”

  “They didn’t. The building was originally home to Charles Wrongacre, one of the most powerful wizards Candlefield has ever known. When he died, he left the school and land to the Combined Sup Council, to be used in a manner which would best serve the community of wizards and witches.

  “Was Wrongacre a level six wizard?”

  “This pre-dated the levels structure that we use today. It was all very much simpler back then when t
here were only four categories: apprentice, practising, master and grandmaster. Wrongacre was one of only two grandmasters—the other was Braxmore.”

  “Braxmore? I’ve heard that name before. Grandma mentioned him to me. She said he was rumoured to be TDO’s mentor.”

  “That’s him.”

  “How can that be? That would make him a zillion years old.”

  “The truth is that no one really knows whether Braxmore is alive or not, but back then there was a bitter rivalry between the two families. Wrongacre stood for everything that was good in Candlefield; Braxmore stood for everything that was evil. Wrongacre is said to have died of a broken heart shortly after his only son was murdered.”

  “By Braxmore?”

  Daze shrugged. “No one knows. Anyway, CASS opened its doors to its first pupils ten years after Wrongacre’s death.”

  “I still find it hard to believe they thought it would be a good place to locate a school.”

  “The Combined Sup Council thought its remote location would promote learning because there would be none of the everyday distractions that there are in the populated regions of Candlefield. It’s a nice theory.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The kids who go there are still kids. They’re going to get up to mischief every now and then regardless of where they are. I know I did.”

  “Aunt Lucy said there are all kinds of dangerous creatures up there. Dragons and the like?”

  “That’s right. Do you remember the mystical creatures you read about in fairy tales when you were a kid in the human world? Where do you think those ideas came from?”

  “Sups?”

  “Precisely. The stories were probably written by sups who’d attended CASS.”

  “How do they keep the creatures out of the school?”

  “It has very high walls which stops most of them.”

  “Most? What about those creatures that can fly?”

  “They can be a problem at times. Life can get pretty interesting at CASS.”

  “Interesting? It sounds downright dangerous to me. I’m surprised that any parents would allow their children to attend a school located in such a dangerous region.”

  “Some don’t, but CASS is a very prestigious school, and most parents don’t want to deny their children the chance to go there. Despite its location, and the dangerous creatures, the school has an excellent safety record. All things considered.”

  “Very reassuring. Did you enjoy your time there?”

  “It was fantastic—probably the best years of my life. Although, when I first arrived there, I was absolutely terrified. So were all the other first year pupils. We’d all been used to living here where there are no scary creatures to worry about. The first time I saw a dragon fly overhead, I nearly peed myself.”

  It was difficult for me to imagine Daze being scared of anything, but then it was hard to imagine living among dragons.

  “Being at CASS is like living in a totally different world. Unless you’ve actually been there, it’s impossible to imagine.”

  “What about the school itself? Did you enjoy that?”

  “Once I’d got used to the idea of boarding, yes. At first, I hated not being able to go home at the end of each day, but I soon got used to it. Everyone does eventually. The teachers were amazing. There were lots of different characters, but they were all brilliant in their own way. And the lessons—I learned so much there. If I ever have children, I hope they get an invitation to go to CASS.”

  “Wouldn’t you be worried about them?”

  “Of course I would, but I’d also know that they’d be embarking on the adventure of a lifetime. It isn’t just the academic studies, it’s the extra-curricular activities too.”

  “What kind of activities?”

  “All kinds of sports, obviously, but so much more. My favourite was the Dragon Club.”

  “What on earth is that?”

  “Occasionally, a dragon’s nest would be abandoned, usually because the mother had been killed. The Dragon Club would collect the eggs, and try to incubate them. When the young were born, they’d be raised until they were old enough to be released into the wild.”

  “You helped to raise a baby dragon?”

  “Yeah. Pretty cool, eh?”

  “No kidding. The only animals we had at my school were a couple of rats.”

  “The treasure hunts were pretty cool too.”

  “We did that kind of stuff at my school.”

  “I doubt they were the same. These weren’t organised by the school—in fact they were frowned upon by the teaching staff. It wasn’t exactly ‘treasure’—that’s just what everyone called it. They were based around the various myths which surrounded Wrongacre.”

  “The original owner?”

  “Not the man. The building which still bore his name.”

  “What kind of myths?”

  “Too many to mention. Some of them were obviously nonsense—presumably made up by the many generations of pupils who had attended the school. But others were true—like the dream-stones.”

  “Go on. I’m intrigued.”

  “I have to admit that when I first heard about the dream-stones, I was convinced it was just one of the many fabricated stories that did the rounds. I couldn’t have been any more wrong. According to the myth, there are seven dream-stones spread throughout the human and sup worlds. Whoever possesses one of those stones is able to move between the real world and the dream world.”

  “Whoa. Back up. What do you mean when you say ‘dream world’?”

  “Its name kind of gives it away. It’s the world you get glimpses of when you’re asleep.”

  “But surely dreams are just in my head. They’re my self-conscious at work.”

  “That’s what most people believe.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “I used to before I knew about the dream-stones. Anyway, as I was saying. There was a myth, or a rumour if you prefer, that one of the dream-stones was hidden within the grounds of Wrongacre. Generations of pupils had tried to find it, but without success.”

  “Which probably proves it is just a myth.”

  “Until—”

  “Until?”

  “Until Edward Hedgelog came along.”

  “Sorry? Who? Did you say Edward Hedgehog? That has to be a made-up name.”

  “Hedgelog not Hedgehog. Unsurprisingly, his nickname was Spikes. He was in my year. I didn’t know him particularly well. He was a quiet boy who kept himself to himself. Most of the pupils formed small groups to investigate the myths, but Edward always worked alone.”

  “And he found it? The dream-stone?”

  “Yes. It was during our very last term at CASS—in fact only a few days before we were due to come home for good.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He came back to Candlefield.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. I haven’t heard anything of him since then.”

  “So, how do you know the dream-stone stuff is real? You didn’t actually see him—err—do anything?”

  “No. But there’s no doubt in my mind it was real.”

  “I don’t buy it. It sounds crazy to me.”

  “As crazy as a world where sups live, but that humans can’t see?”

  “Yes, but—err—that’s not the same. Is it?”

  Daze shrugged. “When are you going to give your talk?”

  “We haven’t set a date yet. The headmistress suggested it might be next month.”

  After Daze had left, I went over to join the twins at a table near to the counter. Although I was glad to have seen the back of the ice maidens, I was conscious of the fact that the twins now had another problem. Having the two rooms upstairs unoccupied meant they had no rental income. That was a situation that couldn’t continue for very long because they needed the money to pay their mortgages.

  “I guess you’ll have to advertise for new tenants.” I was eyeing the butterscotch muffin on Am
ber’s plate.

  “No need,” she said. “We’ve already got someone.”

  “Already? How did you manage that?”

  “We’ve let both rooms.” Pearl beamed. “Jethro came in here yesterday with three other guys. They overheard us talking about the rooms upstairs, and it just so happened that two of them were looking for new accommodation.”

  “These guys? Are they by any chance the Sweaty—err—I mean Adrenaline Boys?”

  “Yeah. How come you’ve heard of them?” Amber looked puzzled.

  “I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but Jethro is now going out with my PA.”

  “Mrs V?” Now it was Pearl’s turn to look puzzled.

  “Not Mrs V!” I laughed. “I’ve now got two PAs. They job-share. It’s Jules who’s seeing Jethro. She’s in her twenties.”

  “How long has she been going out with him?” Amber finished off her muffin. How mean—she hadn’t even offered me a bite.

  “Not long. And she may not be going out with him for much longer.”

  “Why not?”

  “Jules isn’t very happy that he’s taken up dancing again. She didn’t want him to join the Adrenaline Boys. Are you sure it’s a good idea to give the rooms to those two guys?”

  “Why not?”

  “What did Alan and William have to say about it?”

  “They’re okay with it,” Pearl said.

  “Yeah.” Amber nodded. “They don’t mind.”

  “You haven’t told them, have you?”

  “No, but we will. Soon.”

  “Yeah. Soon. Real soon.”

  Chapter 17

  I had Audrey Bone’s address, so I decided to take the direct approach by turning up at her door. I loved cute house names, but Audrey’s house name hardly fell into the cute category. The plaque on the wall read ‘The Bone House.’

  I rang the bell, and moments later, a woman answered the door.

  “Yes? Can I help you?” Her voice was sharp and full of impatience.

  “Morning. My name is Jill Gooder. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your sister, Lucinda.”

  “Are you the police?”

  “No. I’m a—”

  “If you’re not the police, then I have nothing to say to you.”