Witch Is When I Said Goodbye (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 10)

by Adele Abbott

  “I don’t have time for your cryptic mind games. What are you talking about?”

  “This!” He pointed to the screen.

  Oh no! The video showed a tandem overtaking an open-top sports car—a Diamond.

  “Recognise anyone?” He chuckled.

  “No.”

  “Not even the woman in the headscarf and sunglasses?”

  “I especially don’t recognise her.”

  Thank goodness I’d worn those; no one could ever prove it was me.

  “That’s not you then?”

  “Definitely not—”

  Then, the woman in the video removed her sunglasses, and turned her head to one side. It was obvious to anyone watching that it was me.

  “You’re a natural.” Winky paused the video. “First, the video outside the London premiere, and now this one. If you could knock one of these out each week, you’d be making bank. Even after my cut.”

  “Your cut? For doing what exactly?”

  “Setting up your channel. Editing and uploading the videos. Promotion via social media. There’s a lot of work involved in being a YouTube celebrity.”

  “You can forget it. I’m not making a fool of myself just to earn a few pounds.”

  “Why not? You’re already doing it for free.”

  I looked around for something to throw at him, but he’d read my mood, and disappeared under the sofa.

  Winky was still hiding when Mrs V came charging into the office. It was obvious that something was seriously wrong.

  “Whatever’s the matter Mrs V?” I’d never seen her look so upset.

  “It’s terrible, Jill. Just terrible. One of the members of our knitting circle, Cecelia Longbourn, has been murdered.”

  “What happened?”

  “Her daughter, Jessie White, rang me just now. Apparently she found her mother’s body yesterday evening. The police have been questioning Jessie for most of the night.”

  “Would you like to go home? I can give you a lift.”

  “No. I’m all right. I’d rather stay here. I don’t want to be alone in the house.”

  Just then, the phone in the outer office rang.

  “It’s probably Jessie again.”

  Mrs V rushed to answer it; I followed. As she listened, the colour began to drain from her face, and her hands began to shake.

  “Was that Jessie again?” I asked, as soon as she’d finished on the call.

  “No.” She slumped down in her chair.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s happened again. Another member of the knitting circle, Rowena Crowsfoot, has been murdered too. Her husband found her last night.”

  No wonder Mrs V was in shock. “Would you like a glass of water? Or some tea?”

  “No. I’ll be okay. I just need a minute. You have to help, Jill. You have to find out who did this.”

  “Of course I will. Do you think Jessie White will talk to me?”

  “I’ll give her a call.” Mrs V’s hands were still shaking as she held the phone. “Jessie. It’s Annabel Versailles. Yes. Look, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Rowena Crowsfoot has also been found murdered. Yes, it’s terrible. My boss, Jill Gooder, is a private investigator. She might be able to help. Would you be up to speaking to her? You would? Right. She’ll be with you shortly.”

  When she’d finished on the call, Mrs V scribbled down Cecelia Longbourn’s address, and handed it to me.

  “I’ll get straight over there, but I wish you’d let me run you home first.”

  “I’ll be fine. Please just go and see Jessie.”

  ***

  Just as I’d expected, there were police cars parked all along the road where Cecelia Longbourn lived. The policeman on the gate was picking his nose.

  “You can’t go in there.” He managed to extract his finger from his nasal passage just long enough to block my way.

  “I’m expected.”

  “By who?”

  “It’s alright,” a female voice shouted. “She’s my friend.”

  The policeman reluctantly allowed me through, and then went back to picking his nose.

  “Annabel said you were coming over,” Jessie White said, once we were in the house. “I’m Jessie.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Poor Mum. She didn’t deserve this.”

  “Can you talk me through exactly what happened last night?”

  “I live close by; just two streets away.” She was struggling to hold it together. “I call in every night at about eight o’clock—just to make sure everything’s okay. I’m usually only here for about ten or fifteen minutes, but when I came around last night—” She began to sob.

  “It’s okay.” I put my hand on hers. “Take your time.”

  It took Jessie a few minutes to compose herself. “When I came around last night, I found Mum in her favourite chair. There was a knitting needle—” she took a deep breath. “There was a knitting needle in her chest.”

  “I’m so sorry for asking you to relive this.”

  “If it helps to find who did it, I don’t mind.”

  “Did you notice anything else unusual? Anything out of place?”

  “I found a typewritten note on the table next to her. It was partly in English, and partly in French. It said: ‘knit une, kill une’. The police have taken it away as evidence.”

  Just then, Tom Hawk walked into the room. He was Maxwell’s second in command, and was presumably standing in for Jack, while he was suspended.

  “Jill. Would you mind stepping outside for a minute?” He gestured for me to follow him. He didn’t look happy.

  “Jack warned me that you had a habit of turning up in the middle of his investigations.”

  “The victim was a member of my P.A.’s knitting circle.”

  “Who’s your P.A?”

  “Mrs V. I mean, Annabel Versailles. She asked me to help.”

  “We don’t need any help.”

  That would be a first.

  “We’re perfectly capable of handling this.”

  “I’m sure you are. I have absolute faith in the Washbridge Police.” Flattery will get you anywhere or so I’d heard. “I hear there’s been a second murder.”

  “Your grapevine is clearly very good. Jack said he thought you had a source in the force.”

  “Source in the force? Jack does seem to have a bee in his bonnet about that. I can’t think why. So what can you tell me about the second murder?”

  “I can’t tell you anything.”

  “I hear the MO is the same.”

  “How did you know—ah, I get it. You’re good, Jill, I’ll give you that.”

  “A knitting needle through the heart?”

  “I can neither confirm or deny that.”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Was there a note there too? Jessie told me she found one next to her mother.”

  He hesitated for a moment. “Yes, there was an identical note. I’m only telling you that because there’s a chance the other members of the knitting circle may be in danger. We’re going to post an officer at the home of each of the other members—just for a few days until we know what’s going on. Look, I have to get on. It’s time you were leaving.”

  “Of course. I’ll just say goodbye to Jessie.”

  “You’re pushing your luck.”

  “It will only take a minute.”

  “Okay, but be quick.”

  Jessie still looked shell-shocked when I went back into the living room.

  “It looks as though your mother’s murder, and that of Rowena are connected. Can you think of any reason why someone might have wanted to kill your mother?”

  “None at all. She was a darling. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt her. And poor Rowena. Mum and my late father were friends with her and her husband.”

  “I’d better be off before they throw me out.” I gave her my card. “Call me if you think of anything else. Anything at all.”

  ***<
br />
  I called in at Ever A Wool Moment on my way back to the office.

  “You look flustered.” Kathy greeted me from behind the counter.

  “I’m investigating a double murder. Two members of Mrs V’s knitting circle are dead.”

  “Cripes! Is she okay?”

  “A bit shook up, but otherwise yes.”

  “Any leads yet?”

  “You mustn’t repeat anything I tell you.”

  “When do I ever?”

  “All the time.”

  “I won’t this time. I promise.”

  “It looks like the two murders were carried out by the same man. Or woman. The victims were both stabbed with a knitting needle.”

  “How horrible.” She glanced at the shelves which were full of potential murder weapons.

  “Anyway, let’s talk about something a little less gruesome. Where’s Grandma?”

  “I thought you said we were going to talk about something less gruesome?”

  We both laughed.

  “She’s not in yet. I’m glad because she was in a foul mood yesterday.”

  “What for this time?”

  “Didn’t you notice the shop across the road?”

  The unit directly opposite had been empty for quite some time, but there was now a new sign which read: ‘Best Wool - Longer Than Ever’.

  “Another wool shop? Oh dear.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t heard the rumblings already. Your grandmother is not a happy bunny.”

  “I’ll bet.” I laughed.

  “If she catches you laughing, she’ll skin you alive. She’s beside herself with anger.”

  “What’s with the tag line: Longer than Ever? Do you think they’re trying to take on Everlasting Wool?”

  “It sounds like it. You should go over there and take a look.”

  “Okay, I will.”

  They were still in the process of fitting out the shop. One of the posters in the window was promoting their wool subscription service: ‘Never-ending Wool’, which they claimed lasted ‘longer than ever’. A not too subtle dig, if ever I’d seen one. A second poster was for ‘Wonder Needles’, which could adjust size as required. Now where had I heard that before? Best Wool clearly planned to take the fight to ‘Ever’. This was not going to go down well with Grandma.

  I spotted a young woman inside the shop; she was filling the shelves that had already been installed. When I knocked on the window, she shook her head to indicate that they weren’t open. I knocked again, and she eventually came to the door.

  “We’re not open yet.” She had an accent that I couldn’t place. Geordie perhaps? “We’ll be open the day after tomorrow.”

  “Are you by any chance the owner?”

  “Me?” She laughed. “No, I just work here.”

  “Could I speak to the owner?”

  “I don’t know who the owners are. I was recruited through an agency. They interviewed me, and told me to report here. I was left a list of things to do before the big opening day.”

  “So you don’t have any idea who your boss is?”

  “None. I think there must be two of them because on all the paperwork they’re just referred to as M and M.”

  “I see. Okay, well thanks. Good luck with your new job.”

  I hurried across the road to report back to Kathy. “They’ve got wool on subscription, and ‘Wonder Needles’—and they’re both cheaper than yours.”

  “I know. Your grandmother is absolutely furious. She’s been trying to find out who the owner is, but she’s drawn a blank so far.”

  I shouldn’t have found any of this amusing, but I couldn’t help it. It was good to see Grandma on the back foot for once.

  “Oh, by the way.” Kathy’s expression changed. She had her ‘Jill’s in trouble’ face on. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

  “Isn’t that my line?”

  “Guess how many times I’ve had to take Mikey to Coffee Triangle?”

  “The coffee’s really good in there.”

  “Guess!”

  “And the muffins.”

  “Guess!”

  “Is it more than once?”

  “Every time it’s drum day. He doesn’t let up until we take him.”

  “And you blame me for that?”

  “Who else? You were the one who took him there in the first place.”

  “Things didn’t exactly work out the way I’d hoped.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Are you going to let him have a drum set?”

  “Pete says we should. He thinks it’s a good thing that Mikey has developed an interest in music.”

  “Won’t it drive you mad?”

  “We’re going to strike a deal with Mikey. We’ll buy him a drum kit for his birthday, but only on the condition that he plays it in the shop where we bought it.”

  “How does that work?”

  “They have a room upstairs that they use specifically for drums. According to the shop owner, a lot of people keep their drum kits there because, unsurprisingly, drums tend not to go down well with the neighbours. They can play them as often as they like for a nominal fee each month.”

  “So, Mikey would never actually bring the drum kit home?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m not sure he’ll go for that.”

  “He will if it’s that or no drum kit. Pete and I talked it over, and we’d rather take him there a couple of times a week, than have to listen to it all day, every day, in the house.”

  “What about drum day at Coffee Triangle?”

  “That would be part of the deal too. No more drum day.”

  “Sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  “We had to. We can’t carry on with the constant drumming in the house any longer. It’s bad enough with the one he’s got. If he brought a full drum kit home, I’d be moving out. Or Pete would.”

  “Can you afford all of this?”

  “The drum kit is quite expensive, but Pete still has some money left over from what the colonel left him. Without that, there’s no way we could have afforded it.”

  “The colonel will be pleased to know that the money has been put to good use.”

  “What do you mean? Will be pleased to know? He’s dead. Have you forgotten.”

  Whoops!

  “I meant he would have been pleased to know. Obviously.”

  Chapter 3

  I was on my way to speak to Rowena Crowsfoot’s husband, Arnold. Mrs V had been in touch with him, and he’d agreed to see me.

  His house was on the same estate as Cecelia Longbourn’s. A modest two-bedroom semi-detached; its garden put the others in the street to shame. Someone clearly had green fingers.

  The policeman on the gate wasn’t picking his nose; he was too busy scratching his backside. Boredom did strange things to people.

  “You can’t go in there.” You’d have thought he’d have the common courtesy to stop scratching while he spoke to me. But no.

  “I’m expected.”

  “This is a crime scene. Move along.”

  “I’m expecting her,” an elderly man shouted from the doorway. “She’s a friend.”

  Scratching boy scowled, but allowed me through. I gave him a wide berth just in case whatever he had was contagious.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Mr Crowsfoot.”

  Although he was getting on in years, he was still in remarkably good shape.

  “Arnold, please.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Arnold.”

  “I still can’t believe it. That she’s gone, I mean. I keep expecting her to walk in with a cup of tea in her hand. Who would do such a thing?”

  There were no words I could say that would comfort him, so I waited until he continued.

  “Annabel said you’re a private investigator.” He looked me up and down. “Isn’t that rather dangerous for a woman?”

  “It can be, but I’ve been doing it for a long time. My father taught
me everything I know.”

  “Ah, I see. Annabel said you might be able to find out who did this terrible thing, but what can you do that the police can’t?”

  “Maybe nothing, but it can’t do any harm for me to try, as long as you don’t object?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Can you talk me through what happened last night?”

  “I’ll try, but it’s all a bit hazy.”

  “Take your time. There’s no hurry.”

  “I work security now at the local history museum—on the late shift. I’m just the night watchman really. No one is ever going to break in—there’s nothing of any real value worth stealing. I never get home until the early hours of the morning. That’s when I found Rowena.”

  “I believe there was a note?”

  “That’s right. It didn’t make any sense to me. The policeman said part of it was in French.”

  “Did it say something like: ‘knit une, kill une’?”

  “Yes. That was it.”

  “Was there any sign of a break-in or a struggle?”

  “Not that I could see.”

  “Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to hurt your wife? Anyone at all?”

  “No one. If you’d known Rowena, you’d understand. She’s such a friendly soul. She doesn’t have an enemy in the world. The police told me that Cecelia Longbourn has also been murdered. Do you think someone could be targeting the members of the knitting circle?”

  “That’s certainly how it looks at the moment. The police are going to provide protection for the other members.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through this.”

  ***

  After a depressing start to the day, I needed something to raise my spirits. What better way than to take my darling dog for a walk in Candlefield park?

  “Barry! I won’t tell you again. Come here!”

  He ignored me as per usual. I’d made the fatal mistake of forgetting his treats, so the chances of him listening to me were practically zero. He was running around and around the lake, but thankfully, so far, had not decided to go for a dip. As I got closer to the lake, I spotted a couple sitting on a bench. It was Amber, but the man with her definitely wasn’t William. It was Sebastian—Aunt Lucy’s new gardener. The two of them were laughing and joking. Even from this distance, I could tell they were flirting with one another. What on earth was Amber thinking?