Witch Is When Stuff Got Serious (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 11)

by Adele Abbott

  Huh? I turned around, and looked back across at Bella’s window. Socks had disappeared; Bella was all alone. Phew!

  “Where’s your brother, Winky?”

  “He’s gone to catch up with some old friends. He’s such a great guy, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s a great guy all right.”

  ***

  I heard movement in the outer office, and assumed it was a delivery of some kind. But then, I caught a whiff of something. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell; in fact, it was really rather nice. Floral. Curiosity eventually got the better of me, so I went to investigate.

  Every surface of Mrs V’s office was covered with flowers. Dozens of bouquets of every colour and type of flower imaginable. I could barely see her at her desk, until I popped my head through the foliage.

  “Mrs V? What’s going on? I know business is slow, but you really should have consulted me before opening a flower shop out here.”

  She looked as confused as I was.

  “A delivery man came up to the office about thirty minutes ago. He said he had some flowers for me. I thought it might have been a ‘thank you’ from G. He brought up four bouquets to begin with, but then he brought more and more until I ended up with this lot. I told him it must be a mistake, and that he must have the wrong name or address. But he checked his paperwork, and said they were for Annabel Versailles, care of this office.”

  “Who sent them?”

  “I don’t know. They all have the same printed card with them.”

  I picked out the card from the bouquet closest to me. On it was printed: ‘To Annabel. Please be mine. Yours, Armi.’

  “Armi? Who’s Armi?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Unless—”

  “No!” I said. “Surely it can’t be Gordon Armitage?”

  “I hope not.” She looked horrified at the thought.

  “Have you been flirting with him, Mrs V?”

  “Of course not. How could you suggest such a thing? I can’t stand that obnoxious man.”

  “What are you going to do with this lot?”

  “I can’t keep them. They’ll set my hay fever off. I’ve been in touch with Yarnie Relief.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A charity which supports those injured in the course of knitting. They run a market stall every day. They’re going to send someone around to collect them in the next few minutes. They may as well be sold to raise some money for a good cause.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave you to it.”

  As I walked back to my office, I sang, “Gordon and Annabel sitting in a tree—”

  “Jill! I have some very sharp knitting needles, and I’m not afraid to use them.”

  ***

  I’d just arrived back at my block of flats when Kathy called.

  “Have you seen The Bugle today?”

  “No, you know I hate that rag.”

  “I think you’ll want to see this. Take a look at the full page ad on page thirty-six.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s an ad for a new P.I. business. Looks like you’ve got competition. Sorry, I have to go. Pete’s dinner is going to burn.”

  I needed to check this out, so I dashed over to the newsagent to pick up a copy of The Bugle. Surprisingly, Jasper James wasn’t behind the counter.

  “Where’s Jasper today?” I asked the young man who appeared to be standing in for him.

  “Dad? He’s at a conference: Fedora World.”

  Of course he was.

  As soon as I got back to my flat, I flicked through to page thirty-six. Sure enough, there was the full page ad that Kathy had mentioned.

  The headline read: ‘Don’t Settle For Good(er). Demand The Best. Best P.I. Services. Now Open In Washbridge’.

  I had no problem with fair competition. There’d always been other private investigators in Washbridge. But there was no need for a disparaging advert like that. ‘Don’t settle for gooder’? That was obviously targeted at me.

  I’d have to take a closer look at this new competitor.

  Chapter 11

  Overnight, I decided I’d have to speak to Socks. I couldn’t allow him to treat his brother like that.

  As I made the short walk from my car to the office, I noticed people handing out flyers outside my building. They were probably for another new pizza place, so I grabbed one as I walked by, just in case there were any opening offers.

  What the? How dare they?

  The flyer was for Best P.I. Services, and it had the same heading as the advert in The Bugle: ‘Don’t Settle For Good(er)’. The audacity! To hand these out right outside my door!

  “Have you seen those people outside, Mrs V?”

  “With the flyers? Yes, they gave me one.”

  “I can’t believe their cheek.”

  “That’s not the worst of it, dear.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you been listening to Radio Washbridge?”

  “No, I never listen to the radio in the morning.”

  “They’re running an ad every fifteen minutes for Best P.I. Services.”

  This was war!

  I didn’t want Winky to overhear me talking to Socks, so I waited until my one-eyed darling was asleep. His despicable brother was sitting on my desk doing something on his smartphone.

  “Hey, Socks! You and I need to have words.”

  “What’s got you so riled up, little witchy? Winky told me you had a hot temper.”

  “Don’t ‘little witchy’ me.”

  “Look, I know I dropped in kind of unannounced, but it’s not my fault my bro didn’t give you fair warning.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with that.” I glanced across at Winky to make sure he hadn’t stirred. “I saw you!”

  “I saw you too, girl. And, you’re pretty hot for a witch.”

  “Never mind all the flannel. I saw you across the way with Bella.”

  “That Bella is one hot pussycat.”

  “She’s Winky’s girlfriend!”

  “Him and me are bros. What’s his is mine, and what’s mine is his.”

  “That does not extend to his girlfriend.”

  “Chillax! There’s plenty of Miss Bella to go around.”

  “Do you think Winky will agree when I tell him?”

  “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Try me.”

  “Okay, okay. If it makes you happy, I’ll leave the lady alone.”

  Winky stirred. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Witchy here was just asking me which salmon I preferred.” Socks winked at me.

  “Need you ask.” Winky jumped off the sofa. “Red not pink, obviously.”

  ***

  Grandma dropped into the office—unannounced. This was getting to be a habit.

  “How’s the filming going?” I asked.

  “They’re not giving enough attention to the Everlasting Wool and One-Size Knitting Needles.”

  “It’s not supposed to be an advert.”

  “See? This is why your business never has any clients. You fail to grasp even the basics of marketing.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Grandma?”

  “I understand you’re wasting your time with this wand nonsense?”

  “By wand nonsense, I assume you mean the Wand of Magna? Yes, Aunt Lucy asked if I’d help with the investigation.”

  “A lot of fuss over nothing.” She scoffed.

  “But surely it’s part of the rich history of witchcraft?”

  “Baloney! I was on level four when Magna Mondale was made the first ever level six witch. She was magnificent. There’s never been anyone like her, before or since. But, I can tell you this for nothing—she wouldn’t have wanted all this fuss about her wand. When she became a level six witch, the first thing she did was to discard it, and she encouraged other witches to do the same. So, why would anyone preserve it as though it’s an important exhibit? That thing should be broken i
nto pieces and burned. Did Coral Fish mention the sealed room to you?”

  “She did, yes. It’s Magna Mondale’s original basement, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Magna developed spells that others hadn’t even dreamed of—they were so powerful that she feared what might happen if they fell into the wrong hands. If they’d been used for evil, it would have been devastating for Candlefield. When she knew she was dying, she sealed them away in that room. No one has been able to get in there since.”

  “Have you ever tried to get in there, Grandma?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  There was something in her response which made me wonder if she was being entirely honest.

  “If I was you, I’d drop this case.”

  “I can’t do that now. I’ve already promised Aunt Lucy I would help.”

  “To find a worthless wand? What’s the point?”

  “The point is that I’ve given my word. I don’t intend to go back on it.”

  “Very noble, I’m sure.”

  “Is that the only reason you came to see me?” I couldn’t hide my annoyance. I was even more determined than ever to find the wand now.

  “Actually, no. I wanted to tell you that the team photo for The Candle is tomorrow afternoon. We’re meeting at The Candle’s offices at four o’ clock.”

  “What if I’m busy then?”

  “Get un-busy.”

  ***

  It was time to pay another visit to Mad in prison.

  As I was walking down the stairs from my office, I heard footsteps behind me. It was the funny little man—the one who’d been talking to Gordon Armitage. I thought no more about it, and carried on out of the building and down the street towards my car. But after a couple of minutes, I realised the funny little man was still behind me.

  Was this Armitage’s latest attempt to spy on me? If so, the guy he’d hired wasn’t very good at his job. I needed to be sure, so I took four left turns, and ended up back where I started. He was still behind me.

  It was time to have words with my funny little friend.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Why are you following me? If you’re a P.I, I have to tell you, you’re pretty useless.”

  The man looked terrified. “I’m not a P.I.”

  “But you are following me, so I assume you’re working for Gordon Armitage.”

  “No, I’m not. I mean—I was following you, but I’m not doing it for Gordon.”

  “Why then?”

  “I didn’t know what else to do. I think the way Gordon has treated you and Annabel is appalling.”

  “Annabel? Do you know Mrs V?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Not really.”

  “Now I’m confused. What do you want? Do you work for Gordon Armitage or not?”

  “Not exactly.”

  This man was trying my patience. “What exactly, then?”

  “I’m one of the partners at Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole. I’m Joseph—”

  “Poole?”

  “No. Joseph Armitage. I’m Gordon’s brother. His older brother.”

  “You’re not the least bit alike.”

  “Thank goodness for that.” He gave a nervous laugh.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re not—did you send—are you Armi?”

  He blushed.

  “Oh wow! So you’re Mrs V’s secret admirer!”

  “Did she like the flowers?”

  “I think you may have overdone it a tad.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Do you actually know Mrs V? Have you ever spoken to her?”

  “No, I’ve just admired her from a distance. I thought the flowers might be an ice-breaker.”

  “Would you like to meet her?”

  “That would be great.”

  “Leave it with me, Armi. I’ll see what I can do.”

  ***

  I’d expected Mad to be really down in the dumps, but surprisingly she was much brighter than the last time I’d seen her. The orange jumpsuit did nothing for her.

  “How’s it going, Mad?”

  “I’ve had better times.”

  “Are they treating you all right? How’s the food?”

  “It’s better than the slop my mother serves up.”

  “Has she been to see you yet?”

  “Not yet. She reckons visiting time clashes with her bingo.”

  “Surely visiting her daughter in prison is more important than bingo?”

  “That’s what I said, but apparently the regional flyer is set to pay out a record jackpot, and she doesn’t want to miss out on it.” Mad rolled her eyes. “Have you made any progress with the investigation?”

  “So far, the only real lead I’ve got is the CCTV footage. I counted everyone who went in and out of the building on the day of the murder. If my calculations are correct, one person was still in the library after the doors were locked.”

  “You actually sat and counted them all? That must have been mind-numbingly boring.”

  “It was, but I’ve become immune to boredom since living next door to Mr Ivers.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. I’ve got someone going through the footage again to see if they can identify the individual who stayed behind.”

  “I really appreciate all your help, Jill.”

  “Have you heard any more from the police?”

  “I have, and it isn’t good. It seems they found my fingerprints on the knife that killed Anita.”

  “Did they show you the knife?”

  “Only a photo.”

  “Did you recognise it?”

  “Yes, but it isn’t mine.”

  “How come your fingerprints are on it, then?”

  “Do you remember I told you Anita and I had been at a fundraiser on the night before she was murdered?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It was in aid of the Carnation Foundation. The knife used to kill Anita was one of the steak knives from that event. I remember because they had a distinctive blue handle. Someone must have taken my knife after I’d used it.”

  “Did you tell the police that?”

  “Of course, but I’m not sure they were listening. They seem to have made their minds up already.”

  We talked for about another hour, and then I left with the promise that I’d keep her updated. I needed to find out more about the fundraiser, and in particular about the Carnation Foundation.

  ***

  First though, it was time to check out ‘Best P.I. Services’. Time to find out exactly who the competition was. According to the address on the flyers, their offices were only a short walk from my own. The building in which they were located was relatively new. Inside, was a huge reception area which served all of the offices in the building. The man behind the reception desk directed me to the seventh floor.

  Once there, I spotted a red sign with the words, ‘Best P.I. Services’. Inside was a very professional-looking receptionist who was busy on her computer—there wasn’t a knitting needle or crochet hook in sight. I was pretty sure that her CV wouldn’t include stints in the food packing industry.

  “Good morning, madam. Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. But I’d like to see whoever’s in charge here, please.”

  “I’ll have to see if anyone is available. What’s your name, please?”

  “Jill Gooder.”

  “Will you take a seat please, madam?”

  The leather sofa squeaked as I sat down; it still smelled very new. In fact, everything about the office looked sparkly and new.

  “There’s a lady in reception who’d like to see you. Her name is Jill Gooder. Yes, very well.”

  “You can go through.” She pointed at the door to her right.

  I walked through into a larger office, which again was beautifully decorated with expensive-looking furniture. On the far side of the room was a desk. Behind it, sat a man with his back to me. He seemed to be studying the wall for some reason. As I walked towards him, he su
ddenly swivelled around in his chair.

  “Miles?”

  He grinned.

  “Since when were you a private investigator?”

  “Since yesterday actually. Have you seen the ads?”

  “Yes, I’ve seen the ads. They’re downright despicable. What do you mean by, ‘better than Gooder’?”

  “It’s just marketing, Jill. Nothing personal. Surely you’re not afraid of a little competition?”

  “How are you even qualified to be a private investigator?”

  He pointed to a framed certificate on the wall next to him.

  “Just a minute. This says, ‘Awarded by the Best School for Private Investigators’. You issued this to yourself!”

  He shrugged. “How is that any different to you? Weren’t you taught by Daddy?”

  It took all of my self-control not to pull him across the desk, and strangle him.

  “Where’s Mindy? Is she skulking around here somewhere, too?”

  “Mindy’s looking after Best Wool today.”

  “Well, Miles, I can’t stop you setting up as a private investigator, but you’d better stop handing out flyers right outside my building or there’ll be trouble.”

  “Very touchy, aren’t we? Just like your cousins. It seems no one in your family can handle a little competition.”

  I had to leave before I did something I’d regret. I’d never been fond of Miles, but I’d always been able to hold it in check. Until now. Now the gloves were off!

  Chapter 12

  “Have you had any more flowers from Gordon, Mrs V?”

  “I suppose you think that’s funny, Jill.”

  “What would you say if I told you I know who your secret admirer really is?”

  “Do you?”

  “I might.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

  “Have you forgotten that I have sharp knitting needles in the drawer?”

  “Okay. It turns out that Gordon Armitage has an older brother named Joseph. He followed me out into the street. I thought he’d been hired by Gordon to check up on me, but when I confronted him, it turned out that he actually has the hots for you.”