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

by Adele Abbott

  “I don’t really think—”

  “Put it on!” Deli began to chant; the twins and Kathy soon joined in. “Put it on! Put it on!”

  “Okay, okay.” I put the stupid hat onto my head. “Why did you get witches’ hats?”

  “I had intended to get cowgirl hats, but these were on special offer.”

  “Why pink, though?”

  “It’s all they had left. They look good, don’t they?”

  I wasn’t overly thrilled about the hat, but I supposed I could just about live with it.

  “And this is for you too, Jill.” Deli held up a T-shirt.

  “I’m not wearing that thing!”

  But of course, I did, and the humiliation was complete.

  The giant ‘L’ plate on the back was bad enough, but it was what was on the front that was beyond the pale.

  What? No, it wasn’t that. Sheesh, your mind.

  In big, bold words it said: I’m the bride. Please buy me a drink.

  “Keeping it classy, I see.” Kathy laughed. We were all on our way into Washbridge in two taxis.

  “Shut up!”

  “Look at the positive side. You probably won’t have to buy any drinks all night.”

  “You look stupid in that hat,” I said.

  “I think it suits me. I’ve always thought I’d make a good witch.”

  We kicked off the evening in what had once been called Bar Fish until it rebranded to Bar Piranha. It was some time since I’d last been in there, and I was quite surprised to find it had undergone yet another transformation. It was now called Bubbles, and it wasn’t difficult to work out why. I’ve never been a big fan of bubbles. When we were kids, Kathy spent hours blowing the things, but I could never see the point. All that effort, and two minutes later, they’d all burst.

  “It’s great in here, isn’t it?” Amber said.

  “I could do without all the stupid bubbles.”

  “I love them.” Pearl took a sip from her purple cocktail.

  “I’m not sure it was necessary to have twenty-six bubble machines,” I said. “Two would have been plenty.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve counted them.” Kathy’s cocktail was bright orange.

  “What would you like to drink, love?” A man, with more hair sticking out of his nostrils than on his head, pointed to my T-shirt.

  “I’m okay.” I held up my glass. “Thanks, anyway.”

  I’d told the barman to make me a lime and soda, but to put in a little umbrella so I could pass it off as a cocktail.

  “If you change your mind, I’ll be just over there.” Nose-hair gave me a wink.

  I turned to Kathy. “See! I told you this T-shirt was a stupid idea.”

  “Relax and try to enjoy yourself. You only get married once. Hopefully.”

  I hadn’t seen Aunt Lucy for a while, but then I spotted her. Deli had her cornered near to the bar. I probably should have gone and rescued her, but then I’d have been stuck with Deli.

  Some sacrifices were just too great.

  I’d managed to find a quiet spot, to one side of the bar. It was out of range of the bubble machines, and if I faced the wall, no one could see the front of my T-shirt.

  “Shot time!” Deli appeared behind me. “Come on, Jill. We’re moving onto shots.”

  “I’m okay with this cocktail.”

  “Nonsense. A hen night isn’t a hen night without shots.” She grabbed me by the hand and led me over to where everyone else was waiting. In front of them, on the bar, was a line of shots. “Okay, everyone. On three. One, two, three.”

  Everyone threw back their shot. Everyone except me, that is. I threw mine over my shoulder.

  “Another round of shots, barman!” Deli demanded.

  Moments later, we repeated the exercise. Everyone downed their shot except for me. Once again, mine went over my shoulder.

  “Hey!” someone yelled.

  I turned around to see a young man, wiping his face. He must have been walking past when I’d thrown the shot.

  “Sorry.” I grabbed him by the arm and led him a few feet down the bar, so he wouldn’t give the game away. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “Although, to be honest, I usually prefer to drink my shots.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I take it that it’s your hen night.” He gestured to the T-shirt. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. I’d only have to throw it away again.”

  “Fair enough.” He laughed. “All the best for the wedding.”

  “Thanks.”

  ***

  When we’d finished at Bubbles, I would have gladly called it a day, but there was no chance of that. Deli led the parade of pink witches across the city centre to Mushroom, a new nightclub, which had opened only a few months earlier. It was so dark inside that I assumed they must actually be trying to cultivate said fungus. While no one was looking, I took off the T-shirt and dropped it into a waste bin.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to use the ‘fake cocktail’ trick this time because Deli insisted on buying the first round. Instead, I settled for something called Mushroom Fantasy. It was sludge coloured and tasted like vinegar, but apart from that, it was fantastic.

  I’d forgotten just how bad the twins were at dancing. They would tell you that in the sup world they were the toast of the dancefloor, but here in the human world, they still looked like they were doing synchronised swimming, minus the water. Despite my best efforts to avoid the dancefloor, Deli had insisted we all join the twins.

  Mad looked as though she was having about as much fun as I was.

  “What time is it?” I shouted over the music.

  “Almost one o’clock.”

  “What time does this place close?”

  “Six, I think.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  She wasn’t.

  Somehow, I managed to last almost thirty minutes on the dancefloor. By that time, I was parched. I needed a long, cold, non-alcoholic drink.

  The queues at the bar were insane. All except for one till where the barman was standing around, waiting for his next customer. Before anyone else could beat me to it, I made a beeline for him.

  “Orange cordial, please. A large one with lots of ice.”

  “Sorry, love. This till is for Mushroom Members only.”

  I glanced at the long queues further down the bar. “How much does membership cost?”

  “Sorry, membership is closed.”

  “Please. Have mercy on me. I’m getting married next week.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “I really am. Look!” I pointed to the T-shirt. The one that was no longer there.

  “That’s a nice dress, but I still can’t serve you.”

  Cursing under my breath, I joined one of the other queues. While I was waiting to be served, I kept my eye on the members-only till, and quickly realised that something strange was going on. The barman never once asked to see a membership card. Instead, he either served the customer immediately, or sent them away as he’d done with me. How did he know which customers were members? He couldn’t possibly have memorised the face of every member. And then it dawned on me. Everyone he served was a vampire. All other sups and humans were sent away.

  Another millennium came and went before I was eventually served.

  I downed half of the cold orange in one go, and was about to return to the fray when I noticed two vampires were at the so-called members-only till. It was none of my business, but it occurred to me that investigating what was going on would give me an excuse to postpone the torture of the dancefloor.

  I found a quiet spot beyond the cloakrooms and made myself invisible. Back inside, I clambered, unnoticed, over the bar. By then, another three vampires were being served. The barman didn’t even ask them what they wanted to drink. Instead, he bent down and opened what appeared to be a safe. Only it wasn’t—it was a fridge full
of bottles containing a dark red liquid. It didn’t take a genius to guess what was in them.

  What do you mean, it’s just as well?

  Back at the cloakroom, I reversed the ‘invisible’ spell, and made a phone call.

  “Jill?” Daze sounded surprised to hear my voice. “Isn’t it your hen night tonight?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I was hoping you might be able to give me Blaze’s number.”

  “Sure. Is everything okay?”

  “Fine, yeah. I have a tip-off for him.”

  “Right. Are you ready?”

  “Fire away.” I took down the number, and then gave Blaze a call.

  When I got back to the dancefloor, I was surprised to find all of my party were seated at tables.

  “How come you lot aren’t dancing?”

  “There’s no room since that crowd arrived,” Amber pointed.

  The dancefloor was full of old wrinklies—all shaking their booties. Not a pretty sight, I can tell you. And then I saw her.

  “Grandma?” I turned to Aunt Lucy. “What’s she doing here?”

  “Apparently, the bridge club finished early, so she persuaded them all to come here.”

  At that moment, the music stopped, and the main lights came on. There was lots of banging and shouting, and then several uniformed police officers burst through the doors.

  The one who appeared to be in charge called for everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to put an end to your fun, but I have to request that you all leave immediately.”

  To the sound of much moaning and groaning, the nightclub slowly emptied.

  “Thanks for the tip-off, Jill,” Blaze, dressed as a policeman, whispered as I walked past him.

  Outside the club, Deli had gathered everyone together. Grandma and her cronies were there too.

  “Don’t panic,” Deli said. “We’ll go to Toadstool.”

  “What’s Toadstool?” I said to Mad.

  “It’s another club. A bit like this one. It’s a couple of miles out of town.”

  “I don’t think I can take any more of this.”

  “Me neither.”

  Deli had taken charge of the taxis. Grandma and her entourage took the first three. The twins, Aunt Lucy and Deli climbed into the next one.

  “Get in you two,” Deli shouted. “There’s plenty of room.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll take the next one and see you there.”

  When the taxi pulled away, I turned to Mad. “Pizza?”

  “I fancy a burger.”

  “Okay. Burgers it is then.”

  Chapter 13

  “What time is it?” Jack groaned when I climbed out of bed.

  “Seven.”

  “Why are you getting up?”

  “I have to go to the cat show, remember?”

  “I feel like death.” He looked like it too.

  “It’s your own fault. You must have really been putting it away last night.”

  “Could you speak a little quieter, please? My head is pounding.” He rubbed his temple. “I only had three or four drinks.”

  “And the rest. When the taxi dropped you home, you were singing at the top of your voice.”

  “I wasn’t. Was I?”

  “Goodness knows what the neighbours will think. No one wants to be woken by the laughing policeman at four in the morning.”

  “What was I laughing at?”

  “You weren’t. That’s what you were singing: The Laughing Policeman.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” He jumped out of bed and rushed to the loo.

  “Would you like me to make you a nice, greasy fry-up?” I shouted through the toilet door, on my way past.

  Snigger.

  After a couple of slices of toast and a cup of tea, I went upstairs to get showered and dressed. Jack was back in bed, doing his best impression of a corpse.

  “Feeling any better, Dearest?”

  “Not really. How come you’re okay?”

  “Because I didn’t get drunk last night.”

  “I think I might stay in bed today.” He rolled over.

  “You have to do the weekly shop.”

  “Can’t you do it?”

  “I’m going to be at the cat show all day.”

  “Can’t I just order it online?”

  “There won’t be any slots left for delivery today.”

  “I’ll go later.” He put the pillow over his head. “If I don’t die first.”

  “Don’t be such a wuss. It’s only a hangover.”

  I’d often pondered what career I might pursue if I ever hung up my P.I. boots. It struck me that I’d make a good nurse, what with my empathy, compassion and bedside manner.

  ***

  When I arrived at Kathy’s house, Lizzie was watching for me through the front window. I was only half way up the drive when she opened the door.

  “Mummy’s poorly, Auntie Jill. Can we still go to the cat show? Please!”

  “What’s wrong with your mummy?”

  “She’s been sick. Daddy’s not very well either.”

  Peter appeared in the doorway, looking as white as a sheet.

  “Morning.” He managed through dry lips.

  “You look about as good as Jack.”

  “He got home okay, then?”

  “Eventually. Where’s Kathy?”

  “In the lounge. Come on in.”

  If I’d thought Jack and Peter looked bad, that was nothing compared to Kathy who was lying on the sofa, feeling very sorry for herself. “I’m sorry, Jill. I’m not going to be able to make it.”

  “Can we still go, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie pleaded.

  “Of course we can. Where’s Mikey?”

  “My mother is keeping him at her house until tonight,” Peter said. “She brought Lizzie back because of the cat show.”

  “Right, Lizzie.” I took her hand. “You go and get in the car while I say goodbye to your mummy and daddy.”

  “Okay!” She rushed out of the house.

  “I’m really sorry, Jill,” Kathy said.

  “You owe me big time for this.”

  “I know. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You sure will.”

  As I left the house, Kathy was headed for the bathroom.

  “What’s the matter with mummy and daddy?” Lizzie asked, as we drove into Washbridge.

  “It’s probably just a bug. They’ll be better by the time we get back.”

  ***

  As we climbed the stairs to my offices, a horrible thought struck me. What if Winky wasn’t there? If he’d spent the night at one of his many lady friends’, he could easily have forgotten about the cat show. What would I do then? Lizzie would be devastated.

  I told her to wait in the outer office, just in case, but I needn’t have worried. Not only was he there, but he was looking fabulous—there was no other word for it.

  “So?” Winky did a twirl. “What do you think?”

  “You’ve scrubbed up quite nicely. I’ve never seen you looking so—err—”

  “Handsome?”

  “I was going to say, clean.”

  “I called in at Molly’s last night.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s yet another girlfriend?”

  “No. She runs Molly’s Feline Shampoo and Grooming.”

  “Well, I have to say, she’s done an excellent job.” I went over to the cupboard and took out the cat basket.

  “Do I have to go in that thing?”

  “They won’t let you in otherwise.”

  He groaned a bit but climbed in anyway.

  “Here’s Winky,” I held up the basket for Lizzie to see.

  “I think he’ll win, don’t you, Auntie Jill?”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  “Of course I’ll win,” Winky chimed in.

  “He’s meowing a lot, isn’t he, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie giggled. “It’s like he knows what we’re saying.”

  ***

  I’d a
ssumed the cat show would be a small, local affair with about a dozen cats taking part.

  Boy, was I wrong!

  “Excuse me,” I said to the woman standing in front of us in the queue. “Are there always so many people at these local shows?”

  “It’s not just the local show. The national finals are being held today too, didn’t you know?”

  “Err—no. How come they’re being held in Washbridge?”

  “They hold them at a different venue every year. It’s Washbridge’s turn.”

  Only then did I notice the basket at her feet. Inside it was a fluffy ball of something.

  “Is that your cat?”

  “Yes, Letitia is a two-time regional champion.”

  “Very nice.” I gestured to my basket. “This is Winky.”

  She pulled a sour face. “What’s wrong with his eye? Does he have fleas? He looks as though he might.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He had a shampoo at Molly’s only yesterday.”

  The woman muttered something under her breath, and then turned away.

  “What’s up with that stuck up cow?” Winky said.

  “Shut up.”

  “Really!” The woman said. “There was no call for that.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to—err—Winky.”

  She glared at me for the longest moment, and then turned away again.

  When we eventually made it to the front of the queue, a surly man held out his hand for our tickets.

  “Wrong queue.”

  “Sorry?”

  “You’re in the wrong queue. This queue is for the national final competitors only. You need the moggies’ queue. It’s down there.”

  “We’ve been queueing for twenty-minutes already. Couldn’t you just turn a blind eye and let us in?”

  “Sorry. You’ll have to go down there.”

  I was worried that Lizzie might start to get restless, but fortunately there was one of her school friends in the moggies’ queue.

  “Oy!” Winky said. “What’s with the two competitions?”

  “One is for best of breeds that have won their way to the national finals. The other one is for—err—everyone else.”