Witch Is Why A Pin Dropped (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 20)

by Adele Abbott

  “Anything. Horses, greyhounds, football?”

  “I once placed a bet on the Eurovision Song Contest.”

  “Did you win?”

  “No. They came last.”

  “Nul point, eh?”

  “No, they didn’t get any points.”

  “Right. You should drop into WashBets when you’re next passing. The woman who works there, Tonya, is really—err—nice.”

  “Does she like bottle tops?”

  “That subject hasn’t come up in our conversations so far, but I’d say she definitely has the potential to.”

  “Okay. I might do that.”

  What? There’s nothing wrong with giving love a little nudge. And anyway, you should know by now that I’m just an old romantic at heart.

  ***

  I was still hungry, so I decided to magic myself over to Candlefield. I fancied a muffin, but for once, I wouldn’t be purchasing it from Cuppy C.

  “A caramel latte and a blueberry muffin, please.”

  “What are you doing in here?” Flora looked at me as though I was something smelly that she’d just trodden in.

  “Last time I checked, this was a tea room, and I believe Miles told you that I’d be coming in.”

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” Flora called to Laura.

  “Lost your way?” Laura joined her fellow ice maiden behind the counter.

  “Are you going to serve me or not?”

  “I suppose you want a giant muffin?”

  “Is there any other size?”

  Flora took one out of the display cabinet, and dropped it onto the plate.

  Moments later, Laura thumped the cup down on the counter, causing the coffee to slop over the top.

  “That will be eight pounds sixty-three.”

  “That’s outrageous.”

  “Take it or leave it.”

  I took it, and found a seat at a table where I could keep a close watch on proceedings. The coffee was just about okay, but the muffin wasn’t a patch on the ones from Cuppy C. Still, I somehow managed to force it down.

  After about fifteen minutes, Flora disappeared into the back, and then reappeared a few minutes later. She was carrying a tray full of cakes, which she placed in the display cabinet.

  That was what I’d been waiting to see.

  “Going so soon?” Laura called after me as I made my way to the door.

  “Lovely to see you, Jill.” Flora cackled.

  Part of me hoped that Mindy was right, and that the ice maidens were behind the sabotage. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to bust their sorry backsides.

  “Traitor!” Pearl yelled at me as soon as I walked through the door of Cuppy C.

  “We saw you!” Amber shot me a frosty look. “Aren’t our muffins good enough for you now?”

  “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “It looks like you’ve just had coffee and a muffin with the enemy, and now you’ve come for another helping.”

  “I’m disappointed in you both. You should know I would never desert Cuppy C for Best Cakes. I’m working on a case. The only reason I was in there was to carry out surveillance.”

  “Is it something involving Miles Best?” Amber said. “Are you going to bust him?”

  “I can’t discuss the case; you know that.”

  I didn’t dare tell them that Miles Best was my client. They would have banned me from Cuppy C for life if they’d known that I was working for their sworn enemy.

  “What are their muffins like?” Pearl asked.

  “Not great. Yours are much better. So is your coffee.”

  That brought a smile back to their faces.

  Cuppy C was busy, but nowhere near as busy as the day before.

  “How come you two are working in here today, anyway?”

  “Why wouldn’t we be?” Pearl shrugged.

  “I thought Alan and William were supposed to be in here for three days?”

  “We had to step in,” Amber said. “The guys simply couldn’t cope.”

  Huh?

  “I’ve been in here the last two days, and both times they seemed to be doing just fine. They’re both whizzes on the coffee machine.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive,” Pearl said. “And, let’s be honest, Jill. You’re hardly qualified to judge.”

  “And besides,” Amber chipped in. “Takings were way down.”

  That couldn’t possibly be true. The shop had been buzzing on both days. I was beginning to smell a rat.

  “It couldn’t have anything to do with how much female attention the guys were getting, could it? Did the green-eyed monster come knocking?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Pearl scoffed. “Why would we be jealous?”

  “Of course not,” Amber said. “We just did what was best for the shop.”

  “Excuse me?” A young woman interrupted. She was with three other women of a similar age.

  “What can I get you?” Amber put on her ‘customer-facing’ smile.

  “We don’t want to order anything. We were just wondering when the two guys, who were working in here yesterday, would be in again?”

  The look on the twins’ faces was priceless.

  Chapter 7

  “Do you have to do that while I’m eating my breakfast?” I said.

  Jack was sitting at the breakfast bar, trying out his plastic fangs.

  “I want to make sure they’re comfortable for the big day.”

  Big day? “It’s putting me off my cornflakes.”

  Before he could respond, his phone rang. What ensued was pretty hilarious because the fangs had obviously become wedged in his mouth, so he was forced to speak with them still in place.

  “Hleloo.” He slobbered into the phone. “Yles. It’s Mle Mlum. Yles, I’m oklay. Jlust a mlinute.”

  By now, I was helpless with laughter.

  Jack put the phone down while he wrestled with the fangs. After a couple of minutes, he finally managed to get them out.

  “It isn’t funny, Jill.”

  I still couldn’t speak for laughing.

  “Hello, Mum. Sorry about that. I was choking on my muesli. Yes, I’m okay now. The laughter? That was Jill. No, she wasn’t laughing at me choking. She’s watching something on YouTube.”

  I somehow managed to pull myself together while Jack continued with the call.

  “Yes, Mum, I’m sure. We’d love to have you. Okay, see you then. Love you, bye.” He finished the call, and then turned to me. “Have you done with the hilarity?”

  I most definitely had. Just as soon as I’d heard the words: We’d love to have you.

  “What did she want?”

  “She’s going to come and stay with us for a couple of days.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, ‘why’? Does she need a reason?”

  “I knew it. I told you, didn’t I?”

  “Told me what?”

  “Your mother hates me. She’s coming down here to try to break us up.”

  “Why would she want to do that? You’re being crazy. She probably just wants to see the house.”

  “Didn’t you see the way she avoided me at the anniversary party?”

  “No, I didn’t, and I’m absolutely sure that was just a figment of your imagination.”

  “When is she coming?”

  “On Monday.”

  “Which Monday?”

  “Next Monday.”

  “How long for?”

  “Just a couple of days.”

  “Maybe I should go and stay with Kathy while she’s here?”

  “You’re being ridiculous. It will be fine. Mum will love you when she gets to know you.” He pulled me into his arms, and gave me a kiss. “Just like I do.”

  As soon as Jack had left for work, I called Kathy.

  “She’s coming here!”

  “Slow down, Jill. Who’s coming?”

  “Jack’s mother. She’s coming to stay on Monday.”

  “Tha
t will be nice for you both. Is his dad coming too? We could all have lunch together.”

  “Never mind lunch. Didn’t you hear what I said? She’s obviously coming down here to split us up.”

  “Now you’re being stupid. I hope you haven’t said any of this to Jack.”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Oh boy. It’s a good thing he’s crazy about you, or he’d run a mile.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I’m probably worrying about nothing.”

  “You think?”

  “I’d better let you get ready for work.”

  “There’s no hurry; I’m not going in. We took your advice.”

  “What advice?”

  “To go on strike. Chloe and I walked out yesterday afternoon. We’re going to stay out until your grandmother gives us a pay rise.”

  “I was only joking about going on strike.”

  “You were right. We’ve let your grandmother push us around for far too long.”

  “Fair enough, but—err—you didn’t happen to mention to Grandma that I was the one who had suggested it, did you?”

  “Of course I did. I told her that you thought we were being exploited, and should withdraw our labour.”

  Oh bum!

  ***

  The receptionist-count that morning was two. As soon as I walked through the door, Mrs V held up her tea cosy. “It’s finished.”

  “Very nice.”

  “Mine is finished too.” Jules held up her hat.

  Neither of them could see the other one’s masterpiece because of the filing cabinet which was in between their desks. Little did they realise that they’d used almost identical patterns. At first glance, they both looked like hats. Or was it tea cosies? I had a horrible feeling that this wasn’t going to end well.

  “They’re both equally terrific,” I said. “Good luck to both of you.”

  Winky was once again talking to Bob the spider. They were both seated on the sofa.

  “How’s Bob this morning?” I felt like I should ask.

  “His arthritis is giving him gyp.”

  “Spiders don’t get arthritis.”

  “Are you suggesting Bob would lie about something like that?”

  “No—err—of course not.”

  “We were discussing music.”

  “Is he a fan of Ziggy Stardust?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. Before your time.”

  “He’s into grunge.”

  “Nice.”

  Half way through the morning, Mrs V came through to my office.

  “There’s a gentleman out there who is asking if you could spare him a few minutes.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I’m not sure because he mumbles. Mr Dings, I think. Ed Dings.”

  “Okay, send him in.”

  There was something rather strange about Mr Dings, and I knew exactly what it was: the false beard and moustache.

  “Mr Dings?”

  “Actually, my name is Heddings.”

  “Oh? Sorry. Do have a seat, Mr Heddings. How can I help?”

  As he sat down, the moustache became dislodged and fell into his lap. He quickly snatched it up, and stuck it back onto his top lip, while pretending to sneeze. Wow! This guy was a real pro.

  “I need something investigating.” His gaze drifted all around the room—everywhere but at me.

  “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

  “Something has happened, and I need you to investigate it.”

  Just then, Winky, who had been asleep, emerged from under the sofa.

  Heddings’ gaze immediately locked onto the cat, and suddenly everything made sense.

  “I think I must have dropped my wallet.” Heddings patted his coat pocket. What a thesp this guy was.

  “Oh dear.” I played along.

  “Maybe I dropped it in your reception area? Would you check for me?”

  “Certainly, Mr Heddings. You stay there.”

  I walked over to the door, and opened and closed it without actually stepping out of the office. Because Heddings was as dumb as a stick of rhubarb, he didn’t think to look over his shoulder, to check I’d actually left the room. Instead, he took out his phone, and snapped a picture of Winky.

  I opened and closed the door again.

  “There’s no sign of your wallet out there, Mr Heddings.”

  “Never mind.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket, and stood up. “I have to get going.”

  “What about the thing that you wanted investigating?”

  “Huh? Oh, that? It’s okay now.”

  I’d had enough of this imbecile, so I cast the ‘freeze’ spell. While he was immobilised, I took out his phone, and deleted the most recent photograph. I then stuck out my tongue, and took a selfie on his phone. After replacing the phone, I reversed the ‘freeze’ spell.

  “Bye then, Mr Heddings.”

  “Bye,” he said while holding his moustache in place.

  What a cheapskate Gordon Armitage was. Where had he found that pathetic excuse for a P.I?

  ***

  It was time for my meeting with Constance Bowler. I was getting much better at transporting myself to Ghost Town, but it still took a little more concentration than when magicking myself to Candlefield.

  She’d given me directions to her favourite coffee shop, Spooky Wooky.

  Best. Name. Ever.

  I’d half-expected it to be ghost-themed, but in fact it was like an overdose of floral. The wallpaper had a floral pattern, the tablecloths too, and the middle-aged man behind the counter wore a floral-patterned apron.

  “Jill!” Constance, who had been seated at a table close to the counter, came over to greet me. “Did you get over here okay?”

  “Yeah. I think I’ve mastered it now. I just need to learn to find my way around GT. It’s much bigger than I expected.”

  “What do you think of this place?”

  “It’s nice. Very—err—floral.”

  “Hi.” The man behind the counter had an impressive moustache—this one wasn’t false. “You must be Jill. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “And your love of blueberry muffins.” A second man appeared behind the counter. He was completely bald; his head had been polished to an impressive shine.

  “Who told you?”

  “Mad is a regular in here,” the bald man said. “She told us we’d need to stock up on blueberry muffins, and that we’d better make sure they were big ones.”

  “In that case, it would be rude not to try one. By the way, I love the name of this place. It’s very ghostly.”

  “Sorry?”

  They both looked puzzled.

  “Spooky Wooky—it’s very ghostly.”

  “Oh?” the bald man said. “Now you come to mention it, I suppose it is.”

  Huh? Colour me confused.

  “The shop’s name actually comes from their names,” Constance said.

  “I’m Harry Wook.” The bald man offered his hand.

  “And I’m Larry Spooks.” The moustached man did likewise.

  “I see. What do I call you both? Spooky and Wooky?”

  “Harry and Larry will be fine.” Larry passed me a plate. “There you go. GT’s finest blueberry muffin. You must let us know what you think of it.”

  “Thanks. It looks delicious.”

  And it was. Maybe not quite as good as those in Cuppy C, but it was a close-run thing.

  “The guys seem nice,” I said, once Constance and I were seated at the table.

  “They’re lovely. They bake all their own cakes.”

  “Really? That is impressive. I assumed they bought them in.”

  “They ran a small bakery together in the human world until they both died in a fire. From what I hear, arson was suspected.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Still, the human world’s loss is GT’s gain.”

  “You said there was something I could help you with?”r />
  “I hope so. It’s a particularly nasty business. I assume you’re familiar with human trafficking?”

  “Of course. It’s a terrible trade in human misery.”

  “Unfortunately, trafficking isn’t restricted to only the human world. Ghosts are being trafficked from here to Washbridge and beyond.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t really understand.”

  “The majority of ghosts are quite content to live here in GT. Others prefer to spend some of their time in the human world—usually with relatives or friends. Humans would normally refer to this as a haunting.”

  “You mean like when my mother attaches herself to me?”

  “Precisely. Problems arise when a ghost wants to visit the human world but doesn’t have anyone to whom they can attach themselves. Those are the ghosts that the traffickers prey upon. They promise to provide them with a human host.”

  “In return for a fee, I assume?”

  “An exorbitant fee. That’s despicable enough, but it doesn’t end there. Many ghosts who have paid for this ‘service’ have simply disappeared. They’ve never been seen again.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Which is where you come in. Until now, we’ve had no way of tracing what was happening to the ghosts who paid to use the service. I’m hoping you might be able to find out what’s happening to them in the human world.”

  “I’ll certainly give it a go. I hate to think of anyone, human or ghost, being treated like that. I’m going to need a lot more information than you’ve given me so far, though.”

  “Of course. I’d like you to meet Bertie Myflowers. He paid to use the service, but then got cold feet at the last minute.”

  “It sounds as though he was lucky.”

  “Definitely. He should be a good starting point for your investigation.”

  “When can I meet with him?”

  “I need to talk to him first, to set it up. I’ll give you a call.”

  “Great.”

  Chapter 8

  After I’d finished my meeting with Constance, I decided to take a short walk around Ghost Town. Ten minutes from the coffee shop, I came across the market place, which was even bigger than the one in Washbridge, and just as busy.

  “Jill!” It was my father; he was with Blodwyn. “Your mother told me that you’d found a way to transport yourself here, but I didn’t believe her because she likes to wind me up. How did you manage it?”