Wizard for Hire

by Jack Simmonds

  It really was as simple as that to him wasn’t it?

  My desk was almost slap-bang in the middle of the large open floor plan. Glass windows surrounded us on two sides, with fantastic views of the London skyline. The job could be worth that view alone, if it wasn’t such a fucking chore. Each desk was separated by a fabric divider giving the effect of a cubicle. It gave enough privacy so that I could look at Facebook unhindered, but not enough that managers couldn’t check who was busy and who wasn’t.

  To the left of my desk was a man I almost never spoke to, in all the time I had been here. He worked weekends, which was more than I was prepared to offer.

  Stan was on the desk to the right of me, lovely chap, but doddery. He was almost always near bottom of the sales chart, but somehow just did enough each month to continue on.

  Up until lunch time involved calling prospective customers that had enquired about having some blinds or shutters in their home. It’s as boring as it sounds. So, on turns the charm as I dial a number, build some rapport (as they tell us in the morning meetings everyday!) and try and arrange an appointment at their home.

  I looked up at 11:15am (coffee break time). “Any luck Stan?” I said, standing and stretching.

  He put the receiver down. “No,” he said in his nervous quivering voice. “Not a bean.”

  Poor guy, he had a continually nervous disposition, and by all accounts had a wife who liked to spend money, as well as a sick kid. The others made fun of him behind his back saying things like ‘Don’t do a Stan!’ — that meant talking a customer out of the sale, which he had a bad habit of doing. Or dropping a cup of tea all over a customers new carpet. Or breaking their toilet. All things that have happened to Stan. He was more down on his luck than me, and that was saying something. I asked him if he wanted a coffee. He nodded as he dialled a new number.

  The guy on my left, who I didn’t like, was talking loudly into the telephone like he was the Wolf of Wall Street or something. Dickhead.

  I reached the staff room and flicked on the kettle and was somewhat accosted, as was her management style, by Gemma, who stood in the doorway with her I am better than you because I am a manager face.

  “Anything to report Will?” she said knowing the bloody answer. She was a thickset woman who had given up her chance of being beautiful, or nice, in exchange for a career. “You’re slipping down the board,” she said leaning in showing off her massive cleavage (and not in a good way). “You will be below Stan soon.” I explained myself as best I could. I knew I was on thin ice.

  “Can you explain why you were late this morning?”

  I thought about it for a moment, wondering if I should tell her it was because I had to give my new housemate, a wizard, a lift to Tottenham Court Road. “Traffic,” I said.

  She left me in peace to make the coffee, my only respite, so I took my time. Coffee, the only thing keeping me going after little sleep. As I stirred in the milk, I wondered if I, like Stan, would still be here in thirty years? Working 6 days a week, with no respect, feeling unfulfilled and resentful. Earning just enough to pay the bills, I chuckled to myself as the words ‘J.O.B. Just Over Broke’ replayed themselves.

  In the top desk drawer, I had left a framed photo of Ginny and me on holiday in Venice. The sight of it stirred up unwanted feelings again. I watched Stan, nearly at retirement age, stressing and wracking his nerves over each call.

  After a mediocre lunch that consisted of an egg sandwich, crisps and another coffee, I settled at my desk for the second leg of afternoon work.

  But everything was about to change with one phone call…

  The phone on my desk rang, like it did sometimes when a client called back, it was a good sign, so I gratefully snatched up the receiver.

  “Norton?”

  The voice on the end of the phone was not the one I was expecting. “It’s me.”

  I waited for some more information as I didn’t recognise the voice. “Who?”

  “Who do you think!” he shouted. And the voice became clear to me — it was the wizard, perhaps he was wondering if I had his wand?

  “Felix?” I said. “What are you doing calling me at work—”

  “Shush,” he butted in. Manners of a pig. “I haven’t got long, I am at the Paddington Green Police Station. I need you to come as soon as possible on a matter of life or death.”

  Then he hung up!

  Strange thoughts ran through my head as I sat in quiet contemplation for a minute judging what I should do. But curiosity had got the better of me, let alone what the wizard would do to me if I didn't go. I took a deep breath, put my coat on and marched to Gemma’s office, knocking hard on the glass door. She seemed affronted by my newfound energy.

  “I have to go, family emergency!” I said, before slipping my coat on and running out of the office. It sounds strange now, but I felt this wondrous sense of liberation as I ran out, down the stairs to my car.

  Google maps was correct, it took 30 minutes, even with road works which seem to litter London streets so liberally. The blank 60’s police station was on the corner of a busy 6 lane road, opposite Edgware Road Underground. Why was everything so complicated? I navigated to the nearest (expensive!) car park behind the Underground station.

  The thoughts that ran through my head as I walked smartly, consisted of how the wizard had found himself in police custody, possibly it had something to do with leaving his wand in my car? Or the phone box in which he had, seemingly, disappeared from?

  The reception was similar to any state-run 60’s building, dun-coloured walls, static carpet and fixed plastic chairs in a small waiting area. It was empty and quiet. I approached the policeman behind the glass screen tentatively — I didn’t do well with manly men like builders, or soldiers or anyone taller and bigger than me. “Will Norton, here for Felix Freeman?” I said, wishing I could sound more forthright.

  This man, who had bigger bags under his eyes than I, clicked around on the computer.

  “ID?” he said. I looked plainly at him, hoping he would elucidate. But he, rather rudely, perhaps having his fill of rude, unpleasant customers, stared back. I pulled out my wallet, withdrew my driving license and passed it through the gap.

  “Sign here,” he said passing through a form, before handing me a lanyard marked Visitor. The door made a buzzing noise as he withdrew from the room and showed me onwards. Following the man to the floor below, a clinical looking questioning suite full of rooms and metal doors. It rather put the frighteners up me. I didn’t have a clue about what was supposed to happen when you collected someone from police custody, never having done it. However, that was not what was to happen.

  The man knocked on a nearby brown door, pushed and lazily announced my appearance and left again. Inside, Felix sat back on his chair gazing up at the ceiling nonchalantly. Two people sat facing him with an annoyed expression, before one, an attractive blonde lady, stood to greet me. Her expression of annoyance didn’t fade as she shook my hand and showed me to the seat next to Felix, who didn’t even greet me.

  I was struggling to work out how was this a matter of death?

  “This is my lawyer.” Felix announced.

  Trying to to hide my look of shock, as the wizard lied, I looked about the cold, clinical room instead, feeling all eyes looking at me.

  “I don’t recognise you,” said the blonde lady.

  “I am… new.” I said with a cursory glance at Felix, trying to convey my pissed-off-ness to him. I had never so much as been told off by a police officer in my life, now here I was pretending to be a fucking lawyer to what could be an absolute madman. “Very new.”

  “Glad you could make it in a timely manner,” said the blonde lady sardonically. “He refused to say anything until you arrived.” Her voice was an octave lower than suited her. “My name’s Inspector Jena Hawkins, this is my colleague Police Constable Rasheed Kahn.”

  “They’re more than colleagues,” Felix whispered audible enough for all to hear. In which
, he got his way, as an awkward few seconds of silence fell and a tint of red grew on Jena’s cheeks.

  “Right, we shall start,” she said opening her file before looking curiously at me.

  “Don’t you have any papers?”

  Felix started shaking his head before I could answer. “He doesn’t need them, he has a photographic memory.” He was in a playful mood, but it was like a smart-alec kid playing up in class. Annoying. “They think I stole something.”

  Rasheed passed Jena a picture. “Yes on that subject,” she said. “Do you recognise any of these items of jewellery?”

  The picture had several items, a golden brooch, a silver hair piece, a stack of golden coins and a pearl pendant. Looked valuable.

  “They were found earlier this morning by a passerby, who said he saw someone of your description running down the road dropping them.”

  Felix snorted. “I wouldn’t drop them.”

  “But you do recognise the items?”

  Felix jabbed me in the arm. “You going to let her talk to me like that?”

  “Er,” I mumbled. “I object to that… line of questioning.”

  They all stared at me, Felix had an eyebrow raised in disappointment. What did he expect? I wasn’t a fucking lawyer.

  “You’re not the usual two that question me,” Felix said leaning forwards.

  Jena ignored him. “Can you tell me why someone saw you running away from the scene?”

  “You two are just the warm ups I’m guessing?”

  “Where were you at 3:15 this morning?” said Rasheed.

  “Could kill for a cup of tea.”

  It went on in this vain for a while longer, like a tennis match. It felt to me that Felix was playing with them, like a cat does with a mouse until a more interesting line of inquiry came up.

  Jena took a breath, sat back in her chair, relented from her current line of questions. Her expression changed to a relaxed, comfortable, curiosity. “So, you claim that you are a… wizard, is that correct?”

  “Correct,” said Felix bowing importantly. “To be more precise, in this world I am a S.P.O.P.E.”

  He left it hanging there like a bad fart.

  “S.P.O.P.E?” we all repeated back to him like good backup singers.

  Felix sighed as if it hardly needed explaining. “Supernatural Paranormal and Occult Phenomenon Expert,” he reeled off. “Or in other words: a wizard.”

  Jena and Rasheed glanced at each other before bursting into laughter. To say it rather dampened Felix’s mood would be an understatement, he turned downright stormy.

  Jena continued to giggle patronisingly. “We needed a good laugh after a bad day didn’t we Rasheed?” she said.

  “It could get a lot worse.” Felix’s voice had gone down a level, inspiring a ripple of fear somewhere in my stomach. His eyes stayed fixed on them both, as the light in the room started to flicker.

  “Dam lights,” said Rasheed standing to take a closer look. But I don’t think it would help, faulty wiring it wasn’t.

  4

  A Murder by Magic

  Another 20 minutes passed of incessant questioning, but Felix seemed to be in a dull mood now. His mood seemed so delicate that one insult could throw him into a stupor. I was struggling to keep up with the questions, but it seemed that they suspected Felix of stealing some jewellery last night from a safety deposit box in Covent Garden, and that a witness saw someone of his description running away.

  Wracking my brains, I tried to recall the time that I withdrew from his room to bed, it was likely a little before 3am, but I couldn’t confirm it, not even to myself. Did the wizard have time to get from Canning Town to Covent Garden in 15 minutes? I doubt he used public transport, so maybe, with some magical device, if indeed he was a wizard and not some madman who had taken me in.

  You see how knotty this situation was?

  The wizard, in one day, had already cost me a parking ticket, an afternoon from work and a possible blight to my impeccable criminal record. Now I had at least six more months of it. Unless I forfeited my deposit.

  Either I had made friends with a wizarding thief, or the police were mistaken. Whichever way, it felt like an ominous position to be in. And if I didn’t continue to play along as his lawyer, a charge for perjury would most likely be on the cards.

  But things were about to develop.

  A short, sharp knock at the door and in walked two people, an air of high rank about them, for they barely acknowledged Jena and Rasheed, who stood.

  “Mam,” said Jena with a respectful nod.

  The lady she called Mam, was a silver-haired lady with an air of importance and high stature, like she could smell bullshit in a cow shed. She reminded me of a mixture between Judy Dench and Helen Mirren.

  Felix perked up and sat straight in his chair. This was who he seemed to be waiting for.

  “You must be William Norton, the wizard’s lawyer?”

  I stood and shook her hand. “Yes. But only recently.”

  She gave me a look like she already knew. Her emerald green eyes seemed to twinkle with a strange sense of all-knowingness. “I am Chief Inspector Karen Magdalen.”

  Felix stood in a dramatic flurry. “Am I under arrest?” To which Karen replied with a scripted answer telling him he wasn’t, but they appreciate his help on this matter. “Happy to help,” said Felix sitting down with a big smile.

  He was an odd one.

  “This is my right-hand man on this case, Inspector Bob Bennett.”

  In behind her, just at the right moment, stepped Bob Bennett, a big lumbering northern powerhouse. Thick set and stubby with a face used to frowning, he glowered round at us, with an air of wanting to be anywhere else. The suit he squeezed himself into threatened to split as he sat down to face us. I could see Felix out the corner of my eye scanning Bob from head to toe, a wry smile danced across his lips.

  “Thank you for taking the time to speak to us today,” said Karen cordially. “We would like your help in something that happened yesterday, that my colleagues have already briefed you about. However, it’s become a damn-site more serious, now that it’s also a double murder investigation.”

  The air in the room tightened.

  “Christ,” said Felix opting for serious. He did have some decorum then.

  “And…” Karen said winding up to something big, with a cursory glance at Bob who continued chewing his gum. “We think, that it is a… murder by magic.”

  Felix’s eyebrows raised, and I swear I saw him lick his lips.

  Bob kept his gaze fixed upon Felix with absolute distrust. “And you know who did it.”

  The wizard’s head turned ever so gently to Bob. “Do I?” he said soft as a gentle breeze.

  I cleared my throat wanting some clarification. “When you say, murder by magic, could you just clarify that definition.”

  Karen shot Felix a look of disappointment. “Did you not brief your brief?”

  The wizard passed the disappointed look to me and said he did, but that I must have forgotten.

  Bob chuckled. “Thought he had a photographic memory?”

  They had been listening to us. Sneaky.

  Karen opened her file and slid some pictures towards us of a safety deposit holding in Covent Garden that had been broken into that morning. It looked to be a professional job: the steel doors somehow cleaved apart, the safety deposit boxes jammed open, the nearby sewer tunnel used for entry.

  “So?” said Felix pushing the pictures back. “What am I looking at?”

  Karen explained that they suspected a local gang, highly organised, with insider help. “One of the security guards was shot, a second killed by…” Bob seemed in pain to say the last word: “Magic.”

  “We’ve had it verified, independently, that it was magic that was used to kill the guard,” said Karen, she didn’t pause. “And not some, god awful new gun.”

  Bob slammed a fat fist on the table. “Blew a hole straight through him!” Then with relish: “And
you are our only suspect.”

  Felix tutted, “Oh Karen, after all we’ve been through? I feel spurned.” He put his fist to his mouth, indicating how hurt he was, but it just came off as ham acting. “Anyway,” he said, “I’m the only suspect because you only know two wizards. I suppose it was Alister at PI Wizz, who was your source to get it verified independently? You see, I am the only wizard you know. I can name plenty. What it doesn’t mean is that I broke into a bank, shot one man and killed another with magic.”

  “Never said ya’ did!” cried Bob. “But we know you’re for hire… and broke. I bet you got a call from a rather shady collection of people who asked if you wanted in on a lucrative operation. You go along, help them break in with ya’ magic and what-not, but things take a turn for the worse, two security guards catch ya’ at it. One of the gang shoots one, and you… kill the other with ya’ magic in a mad panic. You all leg it, you get seen running away chucking the loot out ya’ pockets!”

  I piped up in my best lawyerly voice. “That’s conjecture.”

  Bob shot me the dirtiest look I had ever seen, like I had just insulted his mother.

  “Norton is right, you’re talking bollocks Bob,” Felix said gaily, pointing a long finger at him. “Yes, I am wizard for hire, I do… odd jobs.”

  “Odd jobs?” Karen repeated.

  Felix felt himself on the ropes and replied in a fast voice. “Finding things, retrieving lost goods, getting rid of poltergeists Karen.”

  Karen bristled and pursed her lips. From the intimation, I assumed Felix had done work for her in the line of a poltergeist. “Things that normal people can’t do but are easy peasy to me, and I get paid a moderate amount for them. Seeing as work is shy — people don’t seem to think I am a real wizard — I take it as it comes.”

  He brushed his hair back behind his ears and re-adjusted the baseball cap he had on backwards (I noticed it had Cocaine and Caviar written upon it and looked like a drug dealers cap). “If you needed help with this case, why didn’t you just ask Alister and his agency? They’re Wizards and PI’s.”