Witch is When The Bubble Burst (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 5)

by Adele Abbott

  “Grandma?” Pearl laughed. “I doubt she’ll even remember.”

  “Grandma doesn’t do birthdays. Mum has to remind her of ours every year, and even then we rarely get a card.”

  “What do you need me to do then?”

  “Keep Mum out of the house long enough for us to set everything up.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “You’ll think of something.”

  “What about Grandma?”

  “We have that sorted.” They laughed.

  “Be careful. Remember what happened the last time you played a trick on her.”

  The twins had made the mistake of putting cake on the sofa arm while Grandma was asleep. She’d ended up with jam and cream all over her face. They’d ended up with donkey’s ears.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

  I hoped for their sake that it would. Crossing Grandma was not a good idea.

  ***

  Steve Lister’s lawyer, Arthur Greaves, got back to me just after midday. Steve was still being held, but Greaves had cleared it for me to accompany him to see his client.

  “Where is he being held?”

  “Still at Washbridge Police HQ at the moment. I’m trying to arrange bail before they ship him anywhere else.”

  “Will he get it?”

  “Hard to say. The police are opposing it. They maintain he’s a flight risk.”

  “Is he?”

  “No. The only thing he talks about is Amanda, and getting her back. I’ve tried telling him that he needs to start worrying about himself, but it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

  “Who’s your contact at the police station?”

  “Jack Maxwell. He seems okay. Do you know him?”

  “Yes, we’ve met.”

  I had hoped Steve might have got bail or that he was being held somewhere else. I dreaded to think what Maxwell’s reaction would be when he found out I was talking to the man he’d arrested. It was not going to be pretty.

  I gave Aunt Lucy a call.

  “Oh—hello, Jill.”

  She didn’t sound her usual bubbly self.

  “Are you okay, Aunt Lucy?”

  “Me? Of course. I’m always okay.”

  She still didn’t sound it.

  “I’d like to come over to see you tomorrow. I want to bring your birthday card and present.”

  “That would be lovely.” That seemed to have cheered her up a little. “What time?”

  “Late morning or early afternoon probably. If that suits you.”

  “That will be fine. I don’t have anything planned. Lester and the twins both have to work.”

  I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

  “Maybe we could take a walk somewhere together,” I said. “I’d like you to give me the guided tour of Candlefield. I’m sure there’s a lot I haven’t seen yet. We could get tea.”

  “Not at Cuppy C. I fancy a change.”

  “Okay. You can choose. So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  “See you then.”

  The twins’ subterfuge had obviously worked. Now all I had to do was keep her out of the house, and hope Grandma didn’t ruin things.

  ***

  Much to my relief, I didn’t encounter Maxwell on my way to the holding cell. The police officer told us we had an hour.

  Steve’s lawyer, Arthur Greaves, had brought me up to speed on the way over. Apparently the police had found a burner phone in Steve’s locker at uni. There was a text message on it from Amanda. The message, dated just prior to her disappearance, asked him to meet her at her holiday home which was out in the country somewhere. The police had checked the house—they hadn’t found Amanda, but they had found a bloody tee-shirt partially buried close by. Tests had shown it was Amanda’s blood.

  Greaves had been right. Steve Lister seemed almost unconcerned by his arrest. As soon as we walked in, he began to fire questions at us—all about Amanda. Only when we’d convinced him there was no news of his missing girlfriend was he prepared to answer my questions.

  “Did you know about the phone?” I asked.

  “I don’t have another phone. The only one I have is the one I had on me when I was arrested.”

  “Any idea how it could have got into your locker?”

  He shook his head. “It could have been anyone. The locks on those lockers are a joke.”

  “Why would Amanda send a message to a phone if it wasn’t yours?”

  “I have no idea. Are they sure it was from Amanda? Can’t those things be faked?”

  “The message definitely came from Amanda’s phone.”

  “Then I have no idea. It makes no sense.”

  “The police said you don’t have an alibi for the time when the message was sent.”

  “I was in bed—asleep.”

  “No one can vouch for that?”

  “Like who? The only person who would have been there with me was Amanda.”

  I still had my concerns about Rachel Nixon, but this was not the time to air them, so I moved on. “What about the holiday home? Have you ever been there?”

  “Yeah. Plenty of times. It was the one thing Amanda didn’t mind accepting from her parents, but we’d only go when we knew they wouldn’t be there.”

  “And you don’t know anything about the tee-shirt?”

  I saw the anger in his eyes. “What do you think I am? I would never hurt her. I love her. Have they confirmed it was Amanda’s blood?”

  “They’re still running tests,” I said, and drew a puzzled look from Greaves.

  Steve didn’t need to know it was Amanda’s blood. If the police hadn’t told him yet, there was no reason for me to do so. He was on the edge already—that might just push him over.

  “It doesn’t look good,” I said, once we were out of the cell.

  Greaves nodded. “If you could find out who planted the phone, that would help.”

  “Been to see your client?” Maxwell blocked our way. I hadn’t seen him until he spoke.

  “Detective Maxwell—” I said.

  “Haven’t you done enough damage?”

  “I didn’t spook the kidnapper,” I said. “The drop-off at the bridge was just a decoy.”

  “Save it. We’re done here.”

  With that, he stood aside and let us pass.

  Chapter 16

  When Betty had asked about the podcast interview, I hadn’t realised she meant the next day.

  “I have to go to a birthday party,” I said when she knocked on my door.

  “What time?”

  “Around midday.”

  “That’s okay then. It shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

  “But—I—err.”

  “Thanks, Jill. You don’t know how much this means to me. Here!” She thrust several sheets of paper into my hands.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a list of the questions I want you to ask me. Come on, everything is set up in my spare bedroom.”

  “I haven’t even brushed my hair yet.”

  “Haven’t you? I can’t tell. Come on.”

  Betty’s flat was white. Very white. I hardly dared step inside in case I left a mark on the white carpet.

  “Come through. We’re in here!”

  The spare bedroom actually looked like a small recording studio. Tax inspectors must be well paid for her to be able to afford all of that kit.

  “I didn’t realise you needed all of this for a podcast.”

  “You don’t really. A microphone and a laptop would probably have done the trick, but if you’re going to do something, do it well.”

  Betty took control. I sat at one side of the white desk, she sat opposite me. There were two microphones—one for her and one for me.

  “Right,” she said, pressing keys on the laptop on the desk in front of her. “I’ll do the introduction, and then you can start the interview. Okay? Ready?”

  I took a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

&n
bsp; “Remember to speak clearly.”

  I gave her the thumbs up.

  “Welcome to Betty’s Sea Shell Podcast. I’m Betty Longbottom, and I’ll be your host every week. For this first edition I’ve invited Jill Gooder, a local celebrity, to interview me.”

  Betty pointed to me and mouthed the words, “You’re on.”

  Local celebrity, eh? I was beginning to warm to this.

  “Betty Longbottom. Why don’t you start by telling the listeners how you became interested in sea shells?”

  “Thank you, Jill. That’s a very interesting story.”

  It wasn’t. Trust me on that one. It was, however, a very long story. So long, I’d almost nodded off by the time I realised she’d finished, and was waiting for the next question.

  “Thank you for that Betty. Very interesting.” What? I was reading from the script. “What are your top ten favourite seashells?” I burst into laughter.

  Betty pressed the pause button and gave me a disappointed look. “Jill! Please! You have to take this seriously.”

  “Sorry, sorry. I was just—sorry. I’m ready now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Thank you for that, Betty what are—” I fell into hysterics.

  It took me some time to catch my breath. Betty was staring at me, stony-faced.

  And that was pretty much the pattern for the rest of the interview. Ninety minutes later, and it was a wrap.

  “Was that okay?” I asked as she showed me to the door.

  “It will need a lot of editing.”

  “Sorry about the—you know—sorry.”

  “Thanks, bye.”

  Something told me my career as co-anchor on Betty’s Sea Shell Podcast was at an end.

  ***

  I was absolutely thrilled to find Grandma at Aunt Lucy’s when I arrived. Not!

  “Look what the cat’s dragged in,” she said.

  “Mother!” Aunt Lucy scolded. “If you can’t manage to buy me a card or a present, you could at least be polite to my guest.”

  “Excuse me for breathing, I’m sure.”

  I had to think of ice cream. Nothing but ice cream. Lovely ice cream sundaes. Chocolate, strawberry ice cream.

  “What is wrong with everyone in this family?” Grandma sighed. “The only thing anyone thinks about is ice cream.” She turned back to Aunt Lucy. “So are you going to see to my bunions or not?”

  “Not. I am not spending my birthday tending to your bunions.”

  “Selfish.” Grandma grumbled. “No consideration for others. Oh, well. I might as well get off home.”

  “Bye then,” we both shouted.

  Aunt Lucy looked at me and shook her head. “That woman will drive me insane.”

  “Happy birthday.” I handed her the card and gift.

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.” She gave me a hug. “It’s nice to know you were thinking of me.”

  “I take it Grandma forgot?”

  “She always forgets. I’m only her daughter, after all. When she popped round, I thought for a moment maybe she’d remembered for once, but no.”

  “Bunions?”

  “Yeah. Apparently they’d been giving her gyp in the night. She also came around to have a moan about the Suppies.”

  “What’s the Suppies?”

  “It’s the annual red carpet awards ceremony for sups. Apparently she and two other level six witches have been nominated for induction into the Suppies Hall of Fame.”

  “That sounds very prestigious.”

  “It is. Most people would be thrilled.”

  “Not Grandma, I’m guessing?”

  “You guess right. She said the Hall of Fame is for old sups, and she does not consider herself to be old.”

  “She’s ancient.”

  “Don’t let her hear you say that for goodness sake.”

  “So what happens? Will she refuse the nomination?”

  “She’s just going to ignore it. Hopefully one of the other two will actually get the place. It wouldn’t go down well if she won and then turned it down. I’m going to try not to think about it.”

  I’d assumed Aunt Lucy and I would go out for a walk by ourselves, but she seemed keen for us to take Barry with us. Did he know about the birthday party, I wondered? If he did, then the game would probably be up.

  I needn’t have worried. Barry was way too excited at the prospect of going for a walk to worry about birthday parties.

  I started towards the park where I usually took Barry, but Aunt Lucy grabbed my arm.

  “Why don’t we go this way for a change? I know another lovely park with beautiful gardens.”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  As we walked, Aunt Lucy talked about Lester, and how his meetings with the specialist were helping to rebuild his confidence. They were both hopeful his magic powers would be fully restored within the year. Aunt Lucy also brought up the twins and their battle with Best Cakes. Everyone had to concede that Grandma’s marketing campaign was starting to pay dividends. I hoped that didn’t mean I’d have to wear that stupid cupcake outfit again.

  “This is nice,” I said, as we stopped at the gates of the park.

  “I want to run.” Barry pulled at the lead.

  “Let him go,” Aunt Lucy said. “He’ll be okay.”

  I wished I’d shared her confidence, but I’d spent too many hours chasing after him. Still, I had to keep her out of the house long enough for the twins to get everything set up. So, why not?

  “There you go boy!”

  Off he shot—who knew if I’d ever see him again?

  Aunt Lucy took a deep breath. “Do you smell that?”

  I did. The flower beds looked amazing. The colours and smells were intoxicating.

  “That’s Jethro’s handiwork,” she said.

  “The man who looks after your garden?”

  “One and the same. This is his main job. He earns a little extra on the side by working for a small number of private clients.”

  “You were lucky to get him.”

  “The twins certainly think so.”

  I looked at her, and she must have seen the surprise in my eyes.

  “Did you think I hadn’t noticed how they ogle him?” She laughed. “They’re so obvious. The way they fawn all over him. It’s harmless though. Neither of them would do anything to jeopardise things with their fiancé. And after all, it doesn’t hurt to look. Jethro is serious eye candy.”

  “Aunt Lucy?”

  “What? I may be getting on, but I still have eyes in my head. Have you actually seen Jethro yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “Prepare yourself for a treat.” She pointed towards the far gate. Just in front of it, a shirtless man was working on the flower beds.

  “Wow!” I said, and then had to remember to close my mouth.

  “Wow, indeed. Now do you understand?”

  Boy, did I understand. I thought Luther Stone was hot, but this guy was sizzling.

  “I’ll introduce you.” Aunt Lucy took my hand.

  “No.” I pulled away.

  “Why not?”

  “I—err—we’d better find Barry. He could be anywhere.”

  I didn’t trust myself around Jethro. I was only human after all. Wait, that’s not right. But you get the gist.

  I eventually tracked Barry down. He was at the boating lake. On a boat.

  “Barry!”

  He held up a paw—presumably waving at me. Judging by the way his tail was wagging, he was enjoying his nautical excursion.

  “Is that your dog?” A man short on teeth, but not on belly, shouted at me.

  “Yeah. That’s Barry. Why is he in a boat?”

  “That’s a very good question. Why is he in a boat? These are my boats, and he hasn’t paid.”

  “He’s a dog.”

  “So? Same fare for everyone.”

  “But how did he even get into the boat?”

  “He jumped in it after the last punters c
limbed out. It had drifted off before I could grab it.”

  “Can you get him back?”

  “Me?” He laughed. “Your dog, your problem.”

  “But how am I meant to get to him?”

  “I have boats for hire.”

  “But I don’t want to sail around the lake. I just want to rescue my dog.”

  “Same difference. Ten pounds, please.”

  “That’s outrageous.”

  “That’s for two boats. Five pounds each.”

  “You’re charging me for the dog?”

  “He’s in a boat isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “He’s on the lake isn’t he?”

  “Yes but—”

  “That’ll be ten pounds, please.”

  I glanced back at Aunt Lucy. At least I seemed to have cheered her up—she was grinning from ear to ear.

  “How do I work this thing?” I shouted to the man once I was in the boat.

  “See them two long wooden things? They’re called oars. Grab hold of them, and move them backwards and forwards in the water.”

  There was no need for sarcasm.

  I hadn’t realised rowing a boat could be so difficult. I’d gone back and forth, this way and that—unable to control the direction. In the meantime, Barry’s boat had drifted back to shore and he’d jumped out. When I gave up through exhaustion, the owner was forced to come out onto the lake himself, throw me a line, and tow my boat back to shore.

  What felt like hours later, Aunt Lucy helped me out of the boat.

  “That will be another fiver,” All belly and no teeth said.

  “What for?”

  “Having to come out and rescue you.”

  I would have argued, but I’d already drawn a large crowd who were chatting and laughing among themselves.

  Aunt Lucy couldn’t stop laughing.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “It’s okay. And anyway, it is your birthday. You deserve a laugh.”

  “I’d almost forgotten about my birthday. I’ll be glad when it’s over. Are you okay? You looked terrified out there for a while.”

  “I’m fine.” I turned to Barry. “No thanks to you.”

  “I like boats,” Barry said. “Can we come here again?”

  As we walked out of the park, I glanced over to the far gate.