by Adele Abbott
Eventually, the time came for the contestants to put their cakes into the ovens. While they were baking, the compère introduced a feature which had been pre-recorded earlier. Essentially, it followed the fortunes of the contestant who had won the show the previous year. While most of the audience were watching the feature, I was studying the two judges who by now had moved into a small cubicle to the right of the set. Both of them were laughing, and it didn’t take a genius to know what they were laughing at.
The time came for the three contestants to take their cakes out of the ovens. If I didn’t act now, Mrs Rollo would be a laughing stock. I couldn’t allow that to happen, so I cast a spell which would result in the perfect almond and raisin cake.
The three contestants placed their creations on the tables in front of them. The judges started on the far right hand side with Arthur Black. They both scribbled something into their notebooks, and then moved on to Connie Bradshaw. Finally, they walked over to Mrs Rollo’s table. The expression on their faces was priceless. They exchanged glances, and then looked again at the cake in disbelief.
After a few minutes of conferring, the two judges passed a note to the compère.
“Ladies and gentlemen. We have a decision. I’m pleased to announce that the winner of this month’s Big Bake Challenge is Mrs Rita Rollo.”
Mrs Rollo’s face lit up. Sheila and Justin stood up, and began to cheer. The rest of the audience followed suit.
On the way home in the car, Mrs Rollo was beside herself with excitement. “I didn’t think I stood a chance. I thought I’d got the mixture all wrong.”
“It was perfect, Mum,” Sheila said. “Don’t you think so, Jill?”
“Absolutely perfect.” I was just relieved the ordeal was over.
“I wonder what cake I’ll have to bake in the next round,” Mrs Rollo said.
Oh bum!
Chapter 20
“What’s that you’re wearing,” I called to Jack. I was halfway through my bowl of corn flakes. He was just heading out the door.
“You’ve seen this suit before.”
“I’m talking about the shirt. You always wear white. I didn’t even know you had a pink shirt.”
“I just fancied a change. I’ve got to run. See you tonight.”
I smelled a rat. Jack would never go to work in a pink shirt. I went upstairs, and checked his wardrobe. There wasn’t a white shirt to be seen. Where were they? And then I remembered, Mrs Mopp had said she was going to iron them for him. Or at least, that’s what he’d told me she’d said.
I checked the laundry basket, but they weren’t in there. Where else could they be? And then it came to me. I went around to the back of the house. There in the dustbin were six white shirts all of which had iron-shaped scorch marks on them. I guessed that was Mrs Mopp’s way of telling Jack that she didn’t do ironing.
If only he’d had ‘people skills’ he would have been all right. Snigger.
On my way into work, The Bugle’s headline caught my eye.
‘Washbridge poisoner strikes again.’
I nipped into the newsagent, and bought a copy. A third victim had been found. Just like the first two, he had died after drinking poisoned water. The man’s name was Albert Jackson. He was an accountant, and had been found dead at his desk by his assistant.
A horrible thought crossed my mind. I rushed back into the shop.
“Excuse me. Do you keep back copies of The Bugle?”
“Only for a few days. Why?”
“You don’t happen to have the issue which featured the first poison murder, do you?”
“Hold on a minute. I’ll just go and check.”
He disappeared into the back, but returned only a few moments later.
“There you go. That’s on the house.”
Once outside, I quickly skimmed the article. In the last paragraph, it mentioned that the victim had been an accountant.
My blood ran cold.
I got straight on the phone, and called Luther’s office.
“This is the office of Luther stone, accountant, Cindy speaking. How may I help you today?”
“Hi. Can I speak to Luther, please?”
“Mr Stone isn’t here at the moment. Can I take a message?”
“No. This is very urgent. Do you know where Luther is?”
“Who’s calling, please?”
“This is Jill Gooder. I’m a client of his.”
“I’m afraid Luther hasn’t turned in today.”
“Is he ill?”
“I don’t know. He has appointments for today, but I haven’t heard from him. I’ve tried to call him on his mobile a few times, but there’s no answer.”
“Do you have his landline number?”
“Yes, but I’m not supposed to call that.”
“This may be a matter of life and death. Have you seen today’s paper?”
“I never read the newspapers. I prefer the celebrity gossip magazines.”
“Two accountants have been murdered in Washbridge over the last few days.”
“Goodness. I had no idea. Do you think Luther might be in danger?”
“It’s possible. That’s why I need you to give me his landline number, right now.”
“Shouldn’t I call the police?”
“That’ll take too long. Just give me his number!”
Cindy hesitated for a moment, but then gave it to me. When I called, I got his answerphone. I tried again several times with the same result. I was wasting time. I had to get over there straight away. I didn’t normally like to use magic to travel around the human world unless it was an emergency. It was perfectly possible that Luther was simply ill, but I couldn’t take that chance. Not with two accountants dead already. I had to make sure that Luther didn’t become victim number three. If that wasn’t an emergency, I didn’t know what was. I cast the spell, and the next moment, I was standing outside my old flat. I could hear singing coming from inside, and wondered who was living there. But there was no time for that right now.
I knocked on Luther’s door. “Luther! Are you in there?”
There was no reply.
“Luther! It’s Jill! Open the door!”
There was still no reply. Call it instinct if you like, but something told me that all was not well. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time, so I cast the ‘power’ spell, then forced open the door.
Luther was lying on the floor in the lounge. Next to him was a water bottle which had spilled its contents onto the carpet.
“Luther!” I checked his pulse. It was weak, but at least he was still alive.
I grabbed my phone, and called an ambulance.
The paramedics arrived ten minutes later, and rushed Luther out to the ambulance.
“Will he be okay?”
The paramedic didn’t answer.
“Can I come with you?”
“Are you family?”
“No, but—”
“Sorry—only family allowed.”
I followed in my car, and sat in the waiting room for over three hours. Eventually, the nurse, who I’d been pestering every fifteen minutes, came to tell me that Luther was going to be okay.
“Can I see him?”
“No, sorry, he’s resting. He should be fine by the morning.”
I was just on my way out of the hospital when I bumped into Leo Riley on his way in.
“Hold your horses!” He held up his hand. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I was just coming to see you, actually.”
“What’s going on here? How come you knew about this guy?”
“I think I might know who’s behind the poisonings. Two of them, at least. The first one and this one.”
“Who?”
“You need to find a man named Robert Roberts.”
“Robert Roberts? Is that even a real name?”
“Yes. He used to be my accountant, but I think he may have turned serial killer.”
“Is this some kind of joke?
”
“No. I’m deadly serious. There isn’t time to explain. Just find him! I’m pretty sure you’ll find the poison there too.”
***
I got home before Jack, and was enjoying a cup of coffee in the lounge when I heard him come through the door.
“Hi!” he called, and then rushed straight upstairs.
What was he up to? I scampered after him.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Could a man look any more guilty?
“What’s that behind your back?”
“What?”
“That big bag.”
“Oh, this? I’ve just been doing a bit of shopping.”
“What for?”
“Nothing much. Just this and that.”
“Show me.”
“You wouldn’t be interested.”
“Show me.”
He sighed, and then passed me the bag.
“White shirts. One, two, three, four, five, six of them.”
“The others were beginning to look a little worn.”
“So it wasn’t the iron-shaped scorch marks on the front, then?”
“You’ve seen them?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I’m sure it was just an accident.”
“Of course. As you said, Mrs Mopp is such a sweet little darling. She would never do anything like that on purpose. Especially not to you—what with your people skills and all.”
***
I continued to give him a hard time about the shirts over dinner, but then later, the reality of what we were about to face hit me.
“This is all your fault!” I yelled at him.
“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
“However many times you say it, it won’t be enough.”
“You might actually enjoy tonight.”
I glared at him.
“All right.” He winced under my gaze. “Not enjoy, exactly. But, you might find it interesting.”
“Are you being serious? What could I possibly find interesting about Mr Hosey’s toy train set?”
“We don’t have to stay long. We’ll just put in an appearance. Then we can sneak away.”
“Is five minutes long enough?”
“Come on, let’s go. We may as well get this over with.”
It wasn’t fair. I was supposedly the most powerful witch in all of Candlefield, and yet I couldn’t come up with a spell that would get me out of this.
It was the first time I’d actually seen Mr Hosey’s house. On the wall, next to the door, was what appeared to be an old railway station sign. The name on it read, ‘Hosey Villas.’
“Hosey Villas? Give me a break!”
Jack shushed me. “He might hear.”
“Just ring the bell, Jack. Let’s get this over with.”
Moments later, Mr Hosey opened the door. He was dressed in what looked like a train driver’s uniform complete with peaked hat. He even had a little whistle hanging around his neck.
“Jack and Jill! I’m so glad you could make it.”
“We’re a little late, sorry,” Jack said.
Not late enough as far as I was concerned.
“Not to worry. Take off your shoes, please, and then follow me up to the attic.”
We had to scramble up a little ladder, which was quite painful to my stockinged feet.
“Where are the others?” Jack asked once we were standing in the attic.
“It doesn’t look as though they’re coming.” Mr Hosey crawled underneath the train layout to get to the centre section, where all the controls were located.
“How many people did you invite?” I asked.
“At least a dozen. Most of them said they’d be here. I guess something must have cropped up.”
“Why didn’t we have something crop up?” I whispered to Jack.
“Before I start the demonstration,” Mr Hosey said. “I expect you’d like me to talk you through the history of my collection.”
“No need for that.” I jumped in before Jack could say something which I’d regret. “We’re happy just to see the trains go around and around.”
Mr Hosey looked horrified. “My trains do not go ‘around and around.’ The tracks are laid out in an authentic fashion based on the local rail infrastructure.”
Oh boy!
“And anyway,” he continued. “It’s no trouble to talk you through the history of my collection. I quite enjoy talking about it.”
He certainly did. The next sixty-seven minutes, and yes I did time it, he spoke non-stop about his train set. The last time I’d been so bored was when as a kid I’d been forced to attend a lecture on subatomic particles, which in retrospect had been much more interesting than the history of Mr Hosey’s train set.
“What?” I jumped when Jack nudged my arm.
“You were falling asleep,” he whispered.
“How much longer is this going to last?” I whispered back.
Jack shrugged.
Boy, did he owe me big time for this.
“And now,” Mr Hosey said. “For the moment you’ve all been waiting for.”
“Are we finished?” I turned towards the trap door.
“No. We’re just starting.” He threw the switch, and one of the little trains pulled away from the platform.
Two hours later, Jack and I were walking back to our house.
“It wasn’t all that bad, was it?” Jack said.
I stopped, and turned to face him. “Are you having a laugh?”
“Once the trains started to run, I thought it was okay.”
“It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if we could have just watched the trains going around and around. It was his commentary that drove me insane. Who cares about the rolling stock or the signals? Not me—that’s who. You’re going to have to work very hard to make up for this night.”
“We’d better get back then, so I can make a start.” He grinned.
As we turned onto our street, we bumped into Jen and Blake who were all smiles.
“Hi there,” Blake called.
“You two look pleased with life,” I said.
“We’ve had a great night.” Jen put her arm through Blake’s. “Haven’t we, sexy?”
“Yeah. We went for a meal at that new Portuguese restaurant up the road. Then we went to see a movie. It was Jen’s idea.”
“We had to get out of the house in case that crazy train guy came around.”
“Do you mean Mr Hosey?” I said.
“Yeah. That’s him. The guy who drives that silly train around. This idiot volunteered us to go and see his train set tonight. Hosey was having an open house or something. When Blake told me, I said there was no way I was going around there, so we decided to go out for the night instead—in case he came looking for us. Who in their right mind would want to spend an evening with Mr Hosey and his train set?”
Who indeed?
Chapter 21
I was just on my way out of the door when my phone rang. It was Peter.
“Have you seen the news this morning, Jill?”
“No. Why?”
“They’ve arrested someone, and charged them with two of the poisoning murders, but not with Lucinda Gray’s. Do you know anything about it?”
“Yeah. I suspect the man they’ve arrested is my old accountant, Robert Roberts. Did they give his name?”
“No, they didn’t. Look, there’s another reason I called you. Kathy’s gone into work this morning.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“I don’t think so, but she said she was going stir crazy in the house. I tried to persuade her to give it a few more days, but she wouldn’t have it. You know how she can be sometimes.”
I did. She was almost as obstinate as I was.
“Would you look in on her, Jill? Just to make sure she’s okay.”
“Of course. I’ll call in on my way into work.”
I parked just down the road from Ever, and then walked up the high st
reet. Betty and Norman’s shop now had the new sign displayed. I couldn’t help but think that particular partnership was doomed.
Kathy was behind the counter when I arrived at Ever.
“Has Peter sent you here?”
“No. What makes you think that?”
“Because I know him. He’s been nagging me all morning not to come into work.”
“It’s only because he’s worried about you.”
“So he did ask you to check on me?”
“He called me, yes. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I couldn’t stand to be in that house for another minute. It got so bad that I’d rather face your grandmother than stay at home for another day.”
“Are you sure I can’t talk you into going home?”
“I’m sure you can’t!” Grandma interrupted. She must have been in the back office. I hadn’t heard her creep up on us.
“Kathy shouldn’t be at work,” I protested.
“Don’t speak for me,” Kathy said.
“Yes, don’t speak for your sister.” Grandma joined Kathy behind the counter. “If she says she’s okay to come back to work, then she’s okay to come back to work, aren’t you, dear?” She put her arm around Kathy.
“I’m fine.” Kathy flinched, and edged away from Grandma.
“Okay. Just don’t overdo it, Kathy. I expect you to keep an eye on her, Grandma.”
“Don’t you worry,” Grandma said. “I’ll keep an eye on her, and if she starts to slack off, I’ll crack the whip.”
***
As soon as I saw the poster in the newsagent’s window, I rushed inside, practically trampling two teenagers underfoot.
“Yes, deary?” The woman behind the counter greeted me with a smile. She was wearing odd earrings: The one in her left ear was a penguin, the one in her right ear was an umbrella. I didn’t quite get the connection.
“A copy of Biscuit Barrel Monthly, please.”
“Sorry, deary, we sold out of those yesterday. It’s that competition. Everybody wants to enter it.”
“Do you know where I might get a copy?”
“No idea, deary.” She shook her head. “I think you might struggle.”