Witch Is How Berries Tasted Good

by Adele Abbott

  “I can do that. Do you think a member of staff might be responsible?”

  “I hope not. Most of the staff in the bar and restaurant have been with us for some time. I’ve always felt they were trustworthy.”

  “When do you want to do this?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “How about tomorrow night?”

  “That would be great.”

  Not long after Noah had left, Winky came through the window.

  “What on earth are you wearing?” I laughed. “Is that your hipster look?”

  “Of course not. Do you know nothing about fashion?”

  “I know you look ridiculous in that lumberjack shirt.”

  “I’ll have you know that the YUCCIE look is the latest thing.”

  “YUPPIES? I thought they went out with the eighties?”

  “Not YUPPIE. YUCCIE.”

  “What’s a YUCCIE?”

  “Young Urban Creatives, obviously.”

  “And that’s how Young Urban Creatives dress, is it?”

  “This is just part of the look. I’ve still got to get the jeans and sandals.”

  “Are you sure Crystal will appreciate the YUCCIE look?”

  “Of course she will. I’m going to knock her dead.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  ***

  When I arrived home, there was a giant toothbrush standing on next door’s lawn.

  Sad to say, this kind of thing no longer surprised me.

  “Hi, Jill.” It was Clare.

  “I take it you’re back on the Con circuit?”

  “Yes. We’ve both recovered from that awful food poisoning. We never did find out what caused it.”

  “You have to be berry careful what you eat these days.”

  “You’re right. It was awful not being able to go to a Con last weekend.”

  “So, what is this week’s Con?”

  “DentistCon.”

  “I should have guessed.”

  “Hi, Jill.” A giant tooth came out of the house.

  “Hi, Tony. It looks like you need a filling.”

  “Can you and Jack come with us this weekend?”

  “We’d love to, but we’re booked up for the next few weekends.”

  “Jill!”

  When I turned around to see who had called my name, I saw Lucy Locket running up the road.

  “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me,” I said to the toothbrush and tooth. “I hope you enjoy your Con.”

  When Lucy caught her breath, she said, “Little Jack sent me. The berry man is here. Jack told me to come and get you while he keeps him talking.”

  “Okay. Let’s get going.”

  By the time we’d run back to the corner shop, she was almost dead on her feet.

  “Lucy, will you go and give Jack the nod so he knows he can let the man leave?”

  “Okay.”

  I waited around the corner of the shop until, a few minutes later, a wizard dressed in a purple suit came out.

  “Excuse me!” I stepped out in front of him.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m looking for Candleberries, and I believe you may know where I can get my hands on some.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to sidestep me, but I was too quick for him, and blocked his way.

  “Move!” he yelled.

  “Or you’ll do what?”

  He turned around and started to walk away in the opposite direction, but I grabbed his arm.

  “You know that Candleberries are poisonous to humans, I assume?”

  “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s funny because I have CCTV footage of you selling them in this very shop,” I lied.

  “I—err—” He suddenly made a bolt for it, but he only got a few yards before I turned him into a puppy. A miniature one.

  I ignored his pathetic little bark and dropped him into the pocket of my jacket. Then I made a call.

  “Daze, it’s Jill.”

  “Hi, Jill. What’s up?”

  “There’s someone here I think you should meet.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A wizard who’s been selling Candleberries in the human world.”

  “That’s a despicable thing for any sup to do. Where is he?”

  “I turned him into a puppy. He’s in my pocket at the moment if you’d like to come and get him?”

  “I’m on my way now.”

  Chapter 15

  “You haven’t forgotten that I’m away this weekend, have you?” Jack said, over breakfast.

  “Are you? Since when?”

  “I’ve mentioned it at least once a day for the last two weeks, although I don’t know why I bothered because you obviously weren’t listening.”

  “That’s not true. You know I hang on your every word. Tell me again why you’re leaving me here all alone. By myself.”

  “I’m going on a course about the dangers of social media.”

  “You don’t need to go on a course for that. I know everything there is to know about social media now.”

  “Since when?” He grinned.

  “Since Grandma’s gurus came to see me. They’re setting me up on Facebook, Twitter and all those other things.”

  “Other things? Such as?”

  “You know: Instalink or something.”

  “Hmm.”

  “When will you get back?”

  “Late Sunday. It’s in Norwich.”

  “What am I supposed to do by myself all weekend?”

  “You could clean your car for starters.”

  “I’m not wasting a perfectly good weekend, cleaning my car.”

  “You could always go around to Kathy’s.”

  “No chance. I plan on having a chilled-out weekend, and I won’t get that around there with the kids.”

  “What will you do, then?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. I might pamper myself with a visit to the spa. Anyway, I’d better get my skates on because there’s someone I need to see before I go into the office, and I’ve got those social media guys coming in later this morning.”

  Even though I rushed around, Jack managed to get out of the house before me. I was just about to leave when there was a knock at the door.

  When I opened it, I was confronted by my worst nightmare: Not one, but two clowns.

  “Sorry, Jill, we didn’t mean to frighten you,” Jimmy AKA Breezy said.

  “You didn’t.”

  “You look a little pale.” Kimmy AKA Sneezy took my hand in her gloved hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” I pulled my hand away. “I was just on my way to work.”

  “We won’t keep you long.” Breezy held up a clipboard. “We’re collecting sponsors, and wondered if you and Jack would be interested?”

  “Sponsors for what?”

  “The weekend after next is national Clownathon day. Clowns all over the country will be performing in the street for up to twenty-four hours. You must have seen it in previous years?”

  “I can’t say I have. How does it work? Is it so much per hour?”

  “Nothing as boring as that.” Sneezy laughed. “The payments are all based upon the clownometer.”

  “The whatometer?”

  “It measures the number of laughs received.”

  “O—kay. So, I would be sponsoring you per laugh?”

  “That’s right. A chuckle only registers as half a laugh, obviously.”

  “What about a smile?”

  “They don’t count at all. Can we put your name down?”

  “I suppose so. How much are other people sponsoring you for?”

  “Your next-door neighbours, Tony and Clare, have gone for ten-pence.”

  “Per laugh?”

  “That’s right. Your other neighbour, Mr Ivers, has gone for twenty-pence.”

  “Well, he did win the lottery. Put Jack down for ten-pence, the same as Clare a
nd Tony.”

  “Jack?”

  “Did I say Jack? I meant us.”

  “That’s great, thanks. We hope you and Jack will come and join in the fun on the day.”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  And once again, those wild horses would be wasting their time.

  ***

  I’d managed to track down Mrs Sykes, Sir Arthurs’ ex-housekeeper. When I’d phoned the previous day, she’d said she was more than happy for me to call around and talk to her.

  The neighbourhood where she lived was run-down; the kind of place where even the rats had moved out. Her house stood out because it was the only one which didn’t have at least one window boarded up.

  She answered almost before I’d knocked, which made me think she must have been looking out for me.

  “Jill?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do come in.” She led the way into a small, but beautifully decorated lounge.

  “This is a lovely room.”

  “Thanks. I do the best with what I have. I’ve just brewed a cup of tea. Would you like one? Or I can do coffee?”

  “Tea’s fine, thanks. Milk and one and two-thirds spoonfuls of sugar, please.”

  “You’re a woman after my own heart, Jill. You must get the same funny looks as I get when I ask for two and one-eighth spoonfuls. People just don’t understand, do they? Biscuit? I have shortbread or ginger nuts?”

  “Just the tea for me, thanks.”

  Mrs Sykes was well past retirement age, but still had a spring in her step, and a contagious laugh.

  “Hasbene’s a horrible man.” She laughed. “I refuse to call him a ‘Sir’.”

  “Had you worked at Hasbene Hall long?”

  “Fifteen years, but I wouldn’t have lasted a month if it hadn’t been for Lady Geraldine. Such a lovely woman. How she ended up with that pig of a husband, I’ll never know.”

  “How did she die?”

  “Her heart gave way.”

  “Had she been ill for long?”

  “No. She’d seemed perfectly well right up until she collapsed. I’d always assumed he would go first. If there was any justice in this world, he would have.” She took a sip of tea. “I know I really shouldn’t say that but it’s true.”

  “How long after Lady Geraldine’s death did Sir Arthur let you go?”

  “The very next morning. He’d been aching to do it for years, but Lady Geraldine always had my back. I can’t say I’m sorry to have left, although I will miss the money. I only have my pension to live on now.”

  “Do you live here alone?”

  “Yes. My Albert ran away with the woman from the tripe shop; that was over twenty years ago now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I was glad to see the back of him. What about you, Jill? Have you got yourself a young man?”

  “Yes. Jack and I got married a couple of weeks ago.”

  “That’s lovely. I hope you’re better at picking men than I was.”

  “You’re probably wondering why I asked to see you.”

  “I figured you’d get around to telling me when you were ready.”

  “I’ve been hired by Sir Arthur to investigate the theft of some of his wife’s jewellery.”

  “And let me guess, he thinks I took it?”

  “Something like that.”

  “It’s alright, dear. I have nothing to hide. You’re more than welcome to search the house if you like.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” I took out the photos that Sir Arthur had given to me. “Do you recognise any of these?”

  “Yes. They were some of Lady Geraldine’s favourite pieces. Was there a break-in?”

  “It doesn’t appear so. He took the photos because he’d intended to sell these items.”

  “Do what?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s not like he needs the money.”

  “Have you any idea who might have stolen them? Is there anyone else who had access to the house?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “Sir Arthur suggested Lady Geraldine’s sister might be responsible. Joanne, isn’t it?”

  “He did what?” Mrs Sykes threw her arms up in despair. “What is the matter with that man? Joanne is cast from the same mould as her sister. She would never do anything like that.”

  “Sir Arthur told me that Lady Geraldine didn’t leave a Will.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that, but if she had, she would almost certainly have left her jewellery to her sister.”

  “Is it possible that Joanne knew that, and decided to take it anyway?”

  “No, definitely not. She would never take anything that didn’t belong to her.”

  “Okay, well, thank you for your time and the tea.”

  “My pleasure. It’s nice to have company for a change.”

  By the time I left Mrs Sykes, I was convinced that she’d had nothing to do with the theft. Even though I hadn’t spent much time with her, it had been long enough to realise she was a proud and good woman.

  ***

  “Where’s the old bag lady?” Winky was on the sofa. “She dead?”

  “No, she isn’t dead. She’s attending the funeral of a close friend of hers.”

  “Tempting fate, isn’t she? If I was as old as her, I’d steer well clear of the graveyard. Someone might mistake her for a corpse and drop her into one of the holes.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “Why are you laughing, then?”

  “I wasn’t. I was just clearing my throat.”

  “If you say so.” He glanced at the clock. “Oh no!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t you realise what time it is?”

  “No. What?”

  “It’s salmon o’clock. And look sharp; I’m starving.”

  Twenty minutes later, Dom and Nick arrived, coffee cups in hand.

  “I hope you don’t mind our bringing coffee in with us.”

  “Not at all.”

  “We took the liberty of getting one for you.” Nick passed me the cup. “It’s a quad, non-fat, one-pump, no-whip mocha.”

  “Right, thanks.” I took a sip. “Wow, that’s strong!”

  “Would you like to see what we’ve come up with?”

  “Definitely. I’ve been looking forward to seeing it.”

  Dom took out a slimline, white laptop and put it on my desk, then the two of them moved their chairs so they were seated either side of me.

  “First, your new website.” He clicked the mouse.

  “That’s a very large magnifying glass,” I said.

  “We asked ourselves what said private investigator better than anything else, and we decided it was a magnifying glass.”

  “Right, okay. And you’ve put the magnifying glass over a picture of me?”

  “Exactly.” Dom gushed. “It’s so brilliant!”

  “Totally fantastic!” Nick said.

  “I see what you’ve done, but the magnifying glass does make my face look kind of—err—fishlike, don’t you think?”

  “Wait until you see the bloodhound.” Dom clicked on the menu.

  “How come it’s sitting at my desk?”

  “We used Photoshop to do that. Isn’t it fantastic?”

  “I’ll show you the other pages.” It was Nick’s turn with the mouse.

  Fifteen minutes later, they sat back in their chairs.

  “So?” Dom said. “What do you think?”

  “You have a lot of magnifying glasses on there.”

  “Brilliant, aren’t they?” Nick said.

  “And a lot of bloodhounds.”

  “They’re so cool.”

  “Not so much of me, though.”

  “You haven’t heard the best part yet.” Nick was bursting with excitement.

  “What’s that?”

  “We managed to secure a brilliant URL for the website.”

  “Oh? What is
it? Jill Maxwell?”

  “No, that would be boring.”

  “Jill Maxwell PI?”

  “Look! It’s right there.” He pointed to the browser window.

  “Magnifyingglassandbloodhoundinvestigations.com? That’s quite a mouthful.”

  “Brilliant!”

  “Fantastic!”

  “But how will anyone know that’s me?”

  “Just wait until you see what we’ve done with your social media presence. Are you ready?”

  They didn’t wait for my reply. Instead, they ploughed on with their presentation, taking it in turns to run through the various platforms: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and a few others that I can’t even remember.

  When they’d finished, they both sat back, and looked at me expectantly.

  “That’s—err—” I was struggling to find the right words.

  “Brilliant?”

  “Fantastic?”

  “I guess so, but what happens now? Do I just wait for the customers to come flocking in?”

  “No, this is just the start,” Nick said.

  “It is?”

  “Yes. We’ve created the platforms, but now the real work starts.”

  “It does?”

  “Yes, and it’s over to you now.”

  “Over to me? Right. What does that mean, exactly?”

  “A business’ social media presence is only as good as the person posting to it.”

  “And that would be me, would it?”

  “Absolutely. You have to start posting straight away.”

  “Posting what, exactly?”

  “It varies from one platform to another,” Nick said. “You can update Twitter throughout the day to let people know what you’re doing.”

  “And then post photos of things you’re doing or have seen to Instagram,” Dom said.

  And so it went on. The two guys spent the next thirty minutes running through what and how I should post to the different social media platforms.

  “Any questions?” Dom said.

  “Err—does my grandmother do all this stuff?”

  “Are you kidding?” Nick laughed. “That woman is a demon. Haven’t you seen her Facebook page or tweets?”

  “I can’t say I have.”

  “You should take a look. If ever someone knew how to play the social media game, it’s your grandmother.”