Witch is How Things Had Changed (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 25)

by Adele Abbott

  “Daze?”

  “Hi, Jill.”

  “I see you’ve got a new sidekick.” I gestured to the young man a few metres away.

  “Don’t remind me. Laze is a total waste of space.”

  “Laze? Is that his name?”

  “No, it’s just what I call him because he’s so lazy.”

  “I saw Blaze earlier in Coffee Games.”

  “I bet he was wearing a luminous cat suit, wasn’t he?” She grinned.

  “Orange. It was horrible.”

  “Oh well. He’s not my problem now, so he can do what he likes. Don’t tell him that I said this, but he’s turned out to be a great rogue retriever, which is more than this lazy oaf will ever do.”

  “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

  “Actually, we’re working on a really interesting case.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “According to our intel, there’s a witch who lives hereabouts who’s told her human partner that she’s a sup.”

  “Oh?” Gulp.

  “And from what we understand, they’re due to get married, Saturday after next.”

  Oh bum! The game was up.

  “I—err—I—”

  “You should see your face.” She laughed. “It’s a picture.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t. At least, I wasn’t sure until just now when I saw your reaction.”

  “You were bluffing?”

  “Good, aren’t I?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Don’t worry. You’re safe.”

  “Really?”

  “By rights, I should take you back to Candlefield, and make sure you never leave again, but if anyone ever deserved a free pass, it’s you. I’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve been there for me. And anyway, I’ve already bought my dress for the wedding. You don’t think I’m going to waste that, do you?”

  “How long have you suspected?”

  “Ever since you told me you were getting married. I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t go into this without first coming clean to Jack. How did he take it?”

  “He was in a state of shock for a long time, but he’s just about got used to it now.”

  “Does anyone else know that he knows?”

  “No. I haven’t told anyone.”

  “Not even your grandmother?”

  “Especially not her.”

  “Good. You need to keep it that way. And make sure Jack understands that too because if it was ever to get out, I’d have no choice but to—well, you know.”

  “I understand. Thanks, Daze.” I gave her a hug. “Are you sure you won’t come on the hen night?”

  “Thanks, but it’s not really my scene. Incidentally, is the music festival going to cause you any problems?”

  “What music festival?”

  “You must have seen all the posters—they’re everywhere. It’s on the same day as your wedding—in Washbridge Park.”

  “Jack and Marceau haven’t mentioned it, so I assume they don’t think it will be a problem.”

  “Who’s Marceau?”

  “Our wedding planner and the bane of my life.”

  “My clippers have broken!” Laze shouted.

  “Sorry, Jill. I’d better go and see to dumb-nuts.”

  Chapter 3

  By the time I got up the next morning, Jack was already in the kitchen, eating breakfast.

  “Morning.” I managed between yawns.

  “Morning, Gorgeous.” He gave me a muesli kiss. “How’s your head this morning?”

  “My head?”

  “Did the migraine go off last night?”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, it’s fine, thanks.”

  The previous evening, I’d managed to put up with two hours of Jack and Marceau, arranging and then rearranging the seating plan, but then it had got to a point where I couldn’t stand anymore, so I’d made the excuse that I had a migraine, and left them to it. It wasn’t an out and out lie—the whole thing was certainly giving me one.

  “I’m pleased to report that we managed to finalise the seating plan last night,” he said.

  “Great.”

  “Well, almost.”

  “What do you mean: almost?”

  “You have to admit that we have some unusual issues to address.”

  “Such as?”

  “It can’t be everyone who has to accommodate ghosts in their planning.”

  “You didn’t mention ghosts to Marceau, did you?”

  “Of course not. He would have thought I was crazy. But the fact that I can’t tell him is half the problem. He can’t understand why I insist on having one table more than the official guest list dictates we need.”

  “How did you explain that away?”

  “I said we might make some last-minute additions to the guest list, so we wanted an extra table, just in case.”

  “Very clever. I’m impressed.”

  “It still leaves us with a slight problem, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know you said that you wanted your mum and dad, and their partners to sit as close to the top table as possible, but there was no way I could convince Marceau that we should have what he thinks is an empty table positioned there. I had to agree to having it at the back of the room.”

  “That makes sense. I’ll just have to explain it to Mum and Dad.”

  “While we’re on the subject, we need to talk about the seating at the ceremony itself.”

  “What about it?”

  “Your mum and dad will have to sit at the back there too.”

  “Why?”

  “Think about it. If they sit near the front, those seats will appear to be empty to everyone except you. Someone will end up sitting on their laps.”

  Oh bum! I hadn’t thought about that.

  “You’re right. I’ll just have to try to explain it to them.”

  “Surely, they’ll understand, won’t they?”

  “I wouldn’t bank on it, but that’s my problem. There’s something else you need to know. I couldn’t tell you last night because Marceau was here. On my way home, I bumped into Daze. You remember her, don’t you?”

  “Isn’t she one of those rogue retainers you told me about?”

  “Retrievers, but yeah. That’s her. She knows.”

  “She knows what?”

  “She knows that you know.”

  “Are you sure you don’t still have a migraine? You aren’t making a lick of sense.”

  “Daze knows that you know I’m a witch.”

  “What?” He dropped his spoon onto the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me last night? What’s going to happen? Is she going to take you—”

  “Whoa, it’s okay. I didn’t say anything last night because Marceau was here, but also because Daze isn’t going to do anything.”

  “How come? I thought that was her job.”

  “It is. She’s going out on a limb for us. It’s a big risk because if anyone finds out, she’ll be in serious trouble.”

  “Are you sure you can trust her?”

  “Absolutely. She made me promise I wouldn’t tell you that she knew, but I’m not prepared to keep any more secrets from you ever again. Whatever you do, you mustn’t let on that you know that she knows.”

  “Let me get this straight. I can’t let her know that I know that she knows?

  “Precisely. It’s really important, Jack. If she finds out that I’ve told you—”

  “She won’t. Look, if I can keep your big secret, I’m sure I can manage this. How did she find out, anyway?”

  “Daze is a smart cookie. She knew I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you without first telling you I was a witch. Although, to be honest, she hadn’t been one-hundred percent certain until she saw my reaction when she confronted me. She totally bluffed me.”

  Jack had finished his breakfast, and gone through to the lounge, to catch up on the morning’s bowling news on TenPin TV. I was still
trying to decide between toast and cornflakes when he called to me.

  “It looks like someone is moving in next door.”

  A removal van had pulled onto the driveway of what had, until a couple of months earlier, been Megan Love’s house. I’d grown to like Megan, and had been sad to see her leave when she moved in with her boyfriend, Ryan. There had been other comings and goings on the street too. Two adjoining houses across the road had become vacant at pretty much the same time. One had belonged to Blossom, AKA The Rose, who had disappeared after her failed attempt to kill me had resulted in the death of Jack’s mother. The other house had been occupied by the balaclava twins who had turned out to be the famous artists: Chris and Chrissie Chrisling—better known as Chris To The Power Of Three. They had used the house as a base in which to create their next masterpiece—a pile of buckets all stuck together.

  Would-be house-buyers seemed to have been put off by the two adjoining vacant properties—they probably suspected there was some kind of structural issue. After standing empty for almost a year, one of the houses had been bought about a month ago by a middle-aged couple who I had yet to meet. According to Jack, they’d told him that they were ‘something in showbusiness’. Someone had finally moved into the adjacent property only last week, but we hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them yet. And now, it seemed we had a new next-door neighbour.

  “Have you seen who it is?” I said.

  Jack shook his head. “So far, I’ve only seen the removal men. They must have the keys because they’ve started taking stuff inside. Let’s hope our new next-door neighbours aren’t as crazy as those on the other side.”

  “Tony and Clare are okay.”

  “They’re nice enough, but you do have to worry about a couple who spend most of their time dressed in weird costumes.”

  “That’s not what you said the other night in bed when you suggested I should wear—”

  “That’s totally different.” He interrupted. “Over the last few weeks alone, I’ve bumped into giant fish, telephones and hammers. You have to admit that’s a bit weird.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being weird. At least they aren’t boring. Mind you, this time last year, my money would have been on them moving out.”

  “You mean when they almost split up because of Tony’s fling with a broad bean?”

  “It was a runner bean, but yeah. I thought they were done for until they made up at CupidCon.”

  “I haven’t seen them yet this week. Maybe they don’t have a con for once.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  While Jack was getting changed upstairs, I continued to ponder the toast/cornflakes conundrum. I was still undecided when he came back down.

  “You don’t seem to be in any hurry this morning.” He grinned. “Don’t you have much work on at the moment?”

  “I’m still trying to decide what to have for breakfast. These decisions can’t be rushed.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “But in answer to your question, business is a little slow at the moment. I am going to CASS later, though.”

  “I’d forgotten it was your day to be ‘Teach’. Do the kids bring ‘Miss’ an apple?”

  “One of them did bring me a bun last week. He’d baked it himself, and it was pretty awful.”

  “I hope you didn’t tell him that.”

  “Of course I didn’t. Just how tactless do you think I am? Don’t answer that.”

  “I envy you being able to magic yourself to a completely different world.”

  “I’ve told you before. Candlefield isn’t that much different to here.”

  “CASS sounds really cool, though. A castle in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dragons and all manner of strange creatures—that has to be exciting.”

  “CASS is great, but I’m never there long enough to appreciate it fully.”

  “I suppose I’d better get going. Have a good day, and don’t forget you have to go for the final dress fitting tonight.”

  “I don’t see why I need to. It fit perfectly well the last time I tried it on.”

  “If you don’t, Kathy will kill you. And don’t forget that I’m going bowling straight after work.”

  Decision made. Cornflakes it was.

  I always looked forward to my days at CASS. It had all started over a year ago when the headmistress had asked me to give a talk to the kids. That had been postponed when a pouchfeeder had snatched one of the younger pupils. Months later, when I’d eventually delivered my talk, I’d been incredibly nervous, but it had gone down really well. So well, in fact, that the headmistress had asked if I’d be prepared to hold regular classes on The Human World.

  At first, I said no, but Desdemona Nightowl wasn’t one to give up easily. She’d kept on at me until I caved in and agreed to teach a class every couple of weeks. I say ‘teach’, but they weren’t really lessons because there was no fixed curriculum and no examinations. I was simply there to talk to the kids about the human world, and to answer any questions they might have. I took classes of all ages, from the nervous first years through to those about to graduate. Usually, it was fun, although there were a few kids who tried to give me the run around. While it was nice to get away from the rigours of being a private investigator, I had no plans to become a full-time teacher. That would have meant doing real work—no thank you.

  ***

  When I arrived at my office building, a wizard held the door open for me.

  “After you,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you work here?” He was tall, and good-looking in a boy-band kind of way.

  “Yeah. I’m Jill Gooder. Those are my offices at the top of the stairs, on the right. Were you on your way to see me?”

  “Actually no. I’m Lucas Morecake. My partner, Wendy, and I have taken over the units just down the corridor from you, including the one that used to be a gym.”

  “Right. I saw your sign. Escape? What is that? A travel agent’s?”

  “No. Escape rooms.”

  “Sorry? What?”

  “Haven’t you heard of them? They’re all the rage, particularly in the large cities. Ours will be the first in Washbridge.”

  “What exactly is an escape room?”

  “It’s a sort of adventure game. You have to follow the clues and solve the riddles to complete the task.”

  “And people pay to do that?”

  “Quite handsomely, I’m pleased to say. You must come and check us out once we’re open for business.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Within a couple of weeks, hopefully.”

  “Well, I wish you the best of luck.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think we’ll have to rely on luck because we have a secret weapon.” He winked at me.

  “How do you mean?”

  “The problem with most escape rooms is they have only a few different themes—sometimes just one or two. Once a customer has tried all the different themed rooms, there’s no reason for them to return. We won’t have that problem. We can offer our customers an infinite selection of different rooms and themes.”

  “How can you do that? Hold on—are you talking about using magic?”

  He grinned. “Nice to meet you, Jill. I’d better get going. Wendy and I are due to meet with our accountant in a few minutes.”

  This wasn’t good news. It sounded as though Lucas and his partner intended to use magic to power the escape rooms. Unless they were very careful, that might attract some unwanted attention from the human press, and if that happened, I’d be a little too close to their operations for comfort.

  There was no sign of Mrs V in the outer office where the tripwire was still straddling the room. I considered doing the limbo under it, but I didn’t want to risk injuring my back, so I stepped over it instead.

  When I went through to my office, I found Mrs V in there. She was deep in conversation with a man who was wearing his hair in a ponytail. Neither of them seemed to notice my arri
val, so I cleared my throat to catch their attention.

  “Jill, I didn’t hear you come in,” Mrs V said. “This is Brian Briggs. I told you about him.”

  “The Feng Shui guy.”

  “Grandmaster.”

  “Of course.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jill.” He stepped forward and offered his hand. He had a grip like a wet lettuce.

  “You too. Mrs V seems pleased with the work you’ve done for her.”

  “Brian just dropped in to see how I was getting on,” Mrs V said. “I asked him to take a look at your office while he was here.”

  “Oh?”

  “The news isn’t good.” Brian frowned. “The energy is all wrong.”

  “Brian has said he can sort it out for you, Jill.” Mrs V was clearly a fangirl.

  “There would of course be a small fee,” Brian said.

  “How small?”

  “My usual consultation fee is five-hundred pounds.”

  “What?” I turned to Mrs V. “Is that how much you paid?”

  “No. My room is smaller and there’s less furniture. It was only three-hundred pounds. It’s well worth it, Jill. My knitting speed has doubled since the changes.”

  “As luck would have it,” Brian chipped in. “I have a couple of free slots next week.”

  “Right. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Of course. Here’s my card. My number is on there.”

  “Great. Thanks very much.”

  I waited until Mrs V had led Brian out of my office, then I ripped the business card into pieces and dropped them in the bin.

  “You should get in on that scam.” Winky appeared from under the sofa.

  “What scam?”

  “Feng whatty. You should set yourself up as an expert.”

  “Grandmaster.”

  “Whatever. Get some cards printed and off you go.”

  “I don’t know anything about Feng Shui.”

  “What does that matter? Just shuffle the furniture around a bit and then collect the cash.”

  “That would hardly be ethical.”