Witch Is How Berries Tasted Good

by Adele Abbott

  When I arrived at the office building, Mrs V was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

  “Have you forgotten your key, Mrs V?”

  “I never forget it. You should know that.”

  “Sorry, I just thought—”

  “I can’t get through the door.”

  “Here, let me try.” I pushed it, but it wouldn’t budge. It felt as though something was wedged behind it.

  Just then, who should come strolling up the stairs but Winky.

  “What are you waiting for?” He scratched at the door. “I’m starving.”

  “It won’t open.”

  “I know that,” Mrs V said. “I just told you.”

  “Sorry, I was thinking out loud. Do you think you could go and get us a coffee while I try to figure out what’s wrong here?”

  “I don’t drink coffee.”

  “Of course.” I handed her a ten-pound note. “Get yourself a cup of tea.”

  “I don’t hold with paying the exorbitant amounts they charge in those coffee shops.”

  “I know, but needs must on this occasion.”

  As soon as Mrs V was out of earshot, I turned to Winky. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “Why would I? I spent the night at Digger’s.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “An old buddy of mine who I haven’t seen for ages.”

  “Is he Australian?”

  “Nah. When we were young, he was always going around saying, I dig this, and I dig that. Hence the name.”

  “Are you sure everything was okay when you left the office last night?”

  “Yeah, I set the knitting machine going, and then—” His expression suddenly changed to one of horror.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Winky! Tell me!”

  “I’m just trying to remember if I set the max length for the tapestry.” He laughed, nervously. “I’m sure I did.”

  “What would happen if you didn’t?”

  “It would just keep going until the wool ran out.”

  “Everlasting Wool never runs out.”

  “Whoops.”

  “Are you telling me that the reason I can’t get through the door is because the office is full of your tapestry?”

  “It’s possible, I guess.”

  “And presumably, the knitting machine is still hard at work? What happens when there’s no more room in there?”

  “I’m sure that won’t happen.”

  “I’m not. If there’s nowhere else for it to go, it’s probably going to burst through the windows.” I nudged him with my foot. “Stand aside.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Be quiet! Let me think.”

  Eventually, with the help of the ‘power’ spell, I was able to push the door open a matter of centimetres. That was enough to confirm my suspicions. The room was filled from floor to ceiling with tapestry.

  The ‘shrink’ spell took every ounce of my strength, but eventually it did the trick, and I managed to miniaturise the tapestry, which allowed the door to open.

  “How did you manage to get in?” Mrs V returned right on cue.

  “I—err—the door just popped open. The wood must have warped a little.”

  Once we were inside, Winky grabbed the tiny tapestry and bolted for my office.

  “Where did all these bits of wool come from?” Mrs V ran her hand over her desk. “If that cat has been in my wool basket again, I’ll murder him.”

  When I went through to my office, Winky was nowhere to be seen.

  “Get out here!”

  “I’m asleep.” The voice came from under the sofa.

  “Now!”

  He crept out. “I suppose you’re going to blame me for this?”

  “Who else am I supposed to blame? I want that machine sent back today.”

  “But I haven’t finished my tapestry yet.”

  “Today, and you can sweep up all these bits of wool too.”

  “But I’ve been up all night. I’m beat.”

  “Do I look like I care?”

  “You’ve really changed since you got married.”

  ***

  Winky was still sweeping the office (and moaning) when my phone rang.

  “Jill? It’s Bob Bobb.”

  “Hi, Bob.”

  “I’ve managed to get hold of the two bigxies I mentioned, and they’re both happy to talk to you. Is there any chance you could meet with them this afternoon?”

  “I don’t see why not. Where did you have in mind?”

  “There’s a coffee shop here in Candlefield called Slurp. It’s just off the main market square. How does two o’clock sound?”

  “Sounds good. What are their names?”

  “Johnny Johnson and Mickey Michaels.”

  “Okay. Tell them I’ll see them later.”

  “Thanks, Jill.”

  “Can I stop sweeping now?” Winky said.

  “You haven’t done that corner yet.”

  “What did your last slave die of?”

  At that moment, the door opened, and Mrs V stepped into my office. Fortunately, Winky had the foresight to drop the brush before she saw him with it.

  “Jill, that horrible man, Mr Bugle, is out there. He’s with another man. Shall I tell him to get lost?”

  “No, it’s okay. Show them in, would you?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I think I know what it’s about. It’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not making him a drink.”

  “That’s alright. I doubt he’ll be here for long.”

  “Good, and he needn’t think I’m going to give him a scarf either.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The man with Dougal Andrews looked pale and drawn.

  “Jill, this is Frank Lewis. Donna Lewis’ husband.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Lewis.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded dazed.

  “Why don’t you both have a seat?”

  Dougal had to practically guide his friend onto one of the chairs.

  “Jill, did you ask your husband about the hit-and-run?” Dougal said.

  “Yes. He said there was nothing to suggest it had been deliberate. The car was found burnt out a few miles from the incident. It looks like so-called joy riders.”

  Dougal shook his head. “He’s wrong.”

  “Someone murdered her,” Frank looked me in the eye. “She was afraid something like this was going to happen.” He pulled himself up in the chair. “Donna has worked undercover for as long as I’ve known her, and she’s got herself into a few dodgy situations before, but this time was different. She was really scared.”

  “What did she tell you about the story she was working on?”

  “Nothing, but then she never did. She wouldn’t talk about the stories until they were in the bag and published.”

  “I suggested Frank should come here today,” Dougal said. “I know you and I don’t always see eye to eye, and I realise that I’ve sometimes crossed the line.” That was probably the understatement of the year. “But I’ve come to respect the work you do. The truth is, you probably solve more crimes in Washbridge than the police do. Donna was a dear friend, and if anyone can find out what happened to her, it’s probably you.”

  I was stunned, and before I could respond, Frank said, “I can pay you.”

  “It’s not going to be easy if no one knows what she was working on.”

  “I’d still like you to try,” Frank said. “Please.”

  “Okay. You’d better tell me everything you can about Donna.”

  After Dougal and Frank had left, Winky came out from under the sofa. “How about some food? I’m starving.”

  “What’s the magic word?”

  “Salmon?”

  “Try: please.”

  “Please can I have some food before I expire? I’m worn out with all the sweeping.”

  “You haven’t finished yet. Do that corn
er, and then I’ll give you something to eat.”

  He moaned and groaned but did as I asked. When he’d finished, I gave him a bowl of food.

  “This isn’t salmon.”

  “It’s all I’ve got until I go to the shops.”

  “This place is going to the dogs.”

  ***

  I’d promised to meet my mother in Spooky Wooky. When she’d rung, she’d said there was something she wanted to talk to me about, but when I’d asked what it was, she’d been very cagey, so I was intrigued to discover what she had on her mind. And, hopefully, I’d be able to get a decent cup of coffee instead of that awful dishwater that Mrs V had bought.

  “Long time no see, Jill.” Larry greeted me with a smile. “I hear you’ve gone and got yourself married.”

  “That’s right. I’m young, free and single no longer.”

  “Blueberry muffin?” Harry appeared at Larry’s side.

  “Not today. I’m trying to cut down on them.”

  “You’re hilarious.” He laughed.

  “No, honestly, I really am. I’ll just have a caramel latte. I’m supposed to be meeting my mother here. I take it she hasn’t been in yet?”

  “Not yet.” Harry went over to the back counter to make my drink.

  “I assume you’ve heard about the upcoming elections?” Larry said.

  “For COG?”

  “Yes. Harry is standing for election, and I’m acting as his campaign manager. I trust we can rely on your support?”

  “Err, actually—” I pulled out the colonel’s rosette from my pocket.

  “Looks like she’s on the other team, Harry.”

  Harry gave me a disappointed look.

  “I’m sorry, guys. I had no idea you were standing, and I’ve known the colonel for ages.”

  “It’s okay, Jill,” Harry said. “The colonel is a good man. It’s just a pity he’s going to lose.”

  “Jill, sorry I’m late.” My mother appeared, red-faced and out of breath. “I was cleaning Alberto’s gnomes, and I lost all track of time.”

  “No problem. I’ve only just got here myself.”

  We made the usual small talk for five minutes or so, but then curiosity got the better of me.

  “You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “That’s right. You’ll be pleased to know that your father and I are getting along much better now. Alberto and Blodwyn too. The four of us meet up at least a couple of times each week.”

  “That’s great. All the squabbling was getting rather tiresome.”

  “I’m sorry you had to put up with that nonsense. Anyway, the other night, we were all at your father’s house, and we got talking about the human world.”

  “Oh?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, we all like GT. Alberto and I couldn’t be happier in our little house. But the thing is, we’d all like to spend more time in the human world—we all kind of miss it.”

  “Well, you know you’re welcome to pay me a visit from time to time.”

  “We know that, but we were thinking of a more permanent arrangement.”

  “How do you mean: permanent?”

  “A base we can call our own. Somewhere we can visit whenever we want, for as long as we want.”

  “I see. A sort of haunting.”

  “That’s such an ugly word.” She pulled a face. “I’d like to think of it more as a kind of holiday home.”

  “Right. Did you have anywhere in mind?”

  “Yes, we thought we could use your house.”

  “My house?” I almost spat out the coffee.

  “It’s the obvious place.”

  “Sorry, but that’s not happening.”

  “Jack wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.”

  “I would, though. I don’t want to share our house with my parents. No offence.”

  “We thought you’d jump at the chance.”

  “You were very much mistaken, then. You’ll have to have a rethink.”

  “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who would appreciate having four ghosts for company?”

  “Weirdly enough, no.”

  “Oh well.” She sighed. “We were so looking forward to spending more time in the human world, but if it’s not to be—”

  “Look, I’ll give it some thought and see if I can come up with any bright ideas.”

  “Would you, Jill?” She stood up, walked around the table, and gave me a hug. “We’d be so very grateful.”

  “Just don’t go getting your hopes up.”

  After we’d finished our drinks, my mother had to shoot off to buy fish for Alberto’s dinner. I was just about to leave too when Constance Bowler walked in. Boy, did she look harassed.

  “Are you okay, Constance?”

  “Not really. We’ve got a bit of a situation. I haven’t had anything to eat yet today, so I thought I’d just grab a scone and a drink.”

  “What’s happened? Can you talk about it?”

  “Between you and me, there’s been a breakout from GT maximum security prison. Oswald Mean, a real nasty piece of work, is on the loose. He’s got a string of convictions and is very dangerous.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so. We’ve got all available officers working on it, and there’s an appeal going out on the radio and TV later. Hopefully, someone will spot him, and we’ll be able to catch him before he can hurt anyone.” She took out her phone and pulled up a photo. “That’s him.”

  “He looks like a thug.”

  “He is. The sooner he’s back behind bars, the better for all concerned.”

  Chapter 8

  Craig Byfleet was Annette’s ex-boyfriend. He lived in a shared apartment in a building that had once housed the local tax office. It was only a five-minute walk from the high street, so I figured I had nothing to lose by dropping by there, on the off-chance I’d catch him in.

  I got lucky.

  “Yes?” The young man who answered the door was tall—very tall. How do I best describe his look? Charity shop rejects probably does it.

  “Hi. Are you Craig Byfleet?”

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Jill Maxwell. I’m a private investigator. I’ve been hired by Annette Banks’ parents to try and find her.”

  “What do you mean, find her?”

  “I take it you didn’t know she was missing?”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Would it be possible to come in and ask you a few questions?”

  “I am rather busy at the moment.”

  “Too busy to help to find Annette?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’ll only need a few minutes of your time.”

  “Okay.”

  He led the way into a large room which served as both kitchen and living room. To my surprise, the room was tidy and spotless.

  “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” He gestured to the leather-effect sofa, which made an unfortunate noise when I took my seat. “I assume you share this place?”

  “Yes, but there’s no one here at the moment. Just me. No one else.”

  “Okay.”

  “My two flatmates are at work. It’s my half-day. You’re lucky to catch me.”

  “You said you haven’t seen Annette since the split? Have you spoken to her on the phone?”

  “No, we haven’t spoken since we broke up. If anyone tells you otherwise, they’re lying.”

  “O—kay. Can you think of any reason why Annette might have upped and left? Could it have been because of the breakup with you?”

  “No, I wouldn’t have thought so. It was all very amicable. I know she was feeling stressed about work and her studies, though. Perhaps she just needed to get away for a while? Did she leave a note?”

  “No.” I lied.

  “Oh? I thought she—err—are you sure?”

  “It doesn’t appear so. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  “Ca
n I ask why the two of you split up?”

  “We’d just grown apart.”

  “Was anyone else involved?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “I’ve spoken with Annette’s flatmate, Gaye. She too mentioned that Annette was feeling a little stressed about work. Any idea why?”

  “None. She didn’t like to talk about her work.”

  By the time I left Craig’s flat, my something-doesn’t-smell-right-ometer was beeping. Although he’d answered all of my questions, I came away with the distinct impression that there was something he wasn’t telling me. Why had he looked so surprised when I said that Annette hadn’t left a note? It was as if he knew I was lying. Had their split really been as amicable as he’d made out? As far as I was concerned, Craig was still a person of interest in this case.

  Everyone seemed to agree that Annette’s place of work had been a source of some stress to her in recent weeks. Maybe someone there would be able to shed some light on her frame of mind prior to her disappearance.

  But that would have to wait until tomorrow because right now I had bigxie business to attend to.

  ***

  I magicked myself over to Candlefield where I’d arranged to meet two bigxies in the Slurp coffee shop. On the wall behind the counter there was a notice advertising a job vacancy.

  “Interested, beautiful?” The ugly wizard behind the counter leered at me.

  “Me? No.”

  “Are you sure? You’d do well in here. The punters like a pretty face to look at while they’re waiting for their coffee.”

  “No, but thanks anyway.”

  “I’ve not seen you in here before. Are you alone?”

  “Actually, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”

  “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Johnny Johnson and Mickey Michaels.”

  “Two of ’em, eh?” He gave me a wink. “Nice.”

  This man was making my flesh crawl. “Do you know them?”

  “Course I do. Regulars are Johnny and Mickey. That’s them over there—near the window.”

  “Thanks.” I started to walk towards them.

  “Hold on!” Mr Creepy called after me. “What about buying something? I’m not running a charity, you know.”

  “Sorry. I’ll just take a bottle of water, please.”