Witch is Why It Was Over Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Witch Is Why

  It Was Over

  Published by Implode Publishing Ltd

  © Implode Publishing Ltd 2018

  The right of Adele Abbott to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved, worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 1

  When I woke at six-thirty, Jack was already up. I eventually found him in the lounge.

  “Be careful! Don’t tread on those,” he cautioned, when he saw me at the door. The floor was covered in bowling shirts, as were the table, sofa and chairs. “I didn’t realise I had so many.”

  “I’m glad you’re having a clear out. It’s certainly not before time. How many bowling shirts can one man possibly need?”

  “I’m not throwing any of these away.” He looked appalled at the idea. “I’m just planning my wardrobe for the rest of the season’s matches.”

  “Please tell me you’re not serious?”

  “I’m deadly serious. There are prizes at stake.”

  “How can the shirt you wear have any bearing on your performance?”

  “I’m not talking about prizes for the bowling. We’re already well ahead in the league, so that’s pretty much in the bag. But there’s still the prizes for best dressed team and individual to be awarded.”

  “You do realise that on a scale of nought to sad, this scores an eleven, don’t you?”

  “Your problem, Jill, is that you don’t have any hobbies or interests. You really should find something that you could feel passionate about, other than your work.”

  “Such as?”

  “Ten-pin bowling?”

  “Boring.”

  “Ballroom dancing?”

  “Tedious.”

  “There must be something you enjoy? Didn’t you used to have any hobbies or interests when you were a kid?”

  “There were the beanies.”

  “I meant some kind of activity?”

  “Not really. Activity was more Kathy’s thing. I was more a laze around the house kind of a kid.”

  “In that case, I’m going to make it my mission to find something that you can throw yourself into, something that will get you out of the house.”

  “That’s really not necessary.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll thank me later.”

  I very much doubted that.

  By the time I’d showered and dressed, Jack had cleared away his collection of bowling shirts, and was staring out of the front window.

  “The balaclava twins are beyond weird,” he said.

  “What are they up to now?”

  “About ten minutes ago, the guy came out of his house, and walked up the street and then back down again. A couple of minutes later, the woman did the same thing.”

  “Were they looking at our house?”

  “I don’t think so; I’m not sure what they were doing.”

  I had a horrible feeling that the balaclava twins were the brother and sister witchfinders: Vinnie and Minnie Dreadmore. The only thing I knew about them was that they both had grey hair, which might explain why our weird neighbours insisted on wearing balaclavas all the time. Somehow, I needed to get a look at them when they weren’t wearing their headgear.

  On his way out of the door, Jack hesitated. “You haven’t forgotten we’re going to Kathy’s tonight, have you?”

  “No, of course I haven’t.” Even though I’d tried very hard to.

  “And don’t forget to get them a present and a card.”

  “Why do I have to do it?”

  “Because she’s your sister.”

  “I might not have time.”

  “You’ll have to find time. It’s not like you didn’t know it was their anniversary. I’ve been reminding you for weeks now.”

  “Okay, I’ll get them a present.”

  “And a card.”

  “Yes, and a card.” Sheesh, my life wasn’t my own. “I’ll meet you at Kathy’s then, shall I?”

  “Aren’t you coming home to get changed first?”

  “What for? It’s only Kathy and Peter.”

  “It’s their wedding anniversary. We should get dressed up.”

  “But it’s only Kathy and Peter.”

  “I’m coming home to change. I thought I’d wear my new grey suit.”

  “But it’s only—Oh, okay then. I’ll come home and get changed too, but if they’re both dressed in T-shirts and trackie bottoms, it’ll be your fault.”

  Before setting out for work, I double checked that I had the syringes of Brewflower in my bag. Yvonne’s warning about the witchfinders was still ringing in my ears. The three who had been assigned to kill me were the best in the business, so I couldn’t afford to let my guard down, even for a minute. Although I was fairly sure that I’d identified two of them, I still had The Rose to worry about. It was at times like this that I occasionally yearned for my old life—the one I had before I discovered I was a witch. At least then, there weren’t people on every street corner, trying to kill me.

  When I stepped out of the house, I was greeted by a seahorse and a carrot. Tony and Clare, our next-door neighbours, were obsessed with cosplay, and seemed to attend a different convention every weekend.

  “You guys have got me stumped this time. I can’t imagine which convention would include seahorses and carrots.”

  “In actual fact, Jill, these costumes are for two different cons,” Tony the carrot, said.

  “I love AquaCon,” the seahorse said. “It’s one of my favourites. Unfortunately, this year, it falls on the same weekend as Tony’s favourite con.”

  “I’ve always loved VegCon,” the carrot said. “We tried to decide which one we should attend, but couldn’t agree, so for the first time ever, we’re going to different cons this weekend. You and Jack are welcome to come to VegCon, if you like? There’s any number of wonderful costumes to choose from. You’d make a great cabbage, Jill.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” the seahorse said. “If you’re both free this weekend, you should come to AquaCon. You’d look good as a—”

  “Mermaid?” I suggested.

  “I was going to say a lobster.”

  “Don’t waste your time with those boring fishes,
Jill,” the carrot said. “Vegetables are where it’s at.”

  “Rubbish!” the seahorse objected. “Who cares about a few stupid vegetables?”

  While the seahorse and carrot were still squabbling, I managed to sneak away.

  ***

  Mr Ivers was all alone in the toll booth, and he didn’t look happy.

  “Good morning, Mr Ivers.”

  “No, it isn’t. My elbows are giving me gyp.”

  “Where’s Cole?”

  I’d recently been instrumental in bringing Cole the troll over from Candlefield, to work in the toll booth. With his expertise of collecting money on bridges, he’d been a natural.

  “He left.” Mr Ivers frowned.

  “But he’s only been here five minutes. I thought he’d settled into the job well.”

  “He had. Too well. That’s the problem. When I was back at the main office, I made the mistake of mentioning how well my new assistant was doing. The next thing I knew, Cole had been tempted away by an offer from another toll booth operator. He offered him twice what I could afford to pay.”

  “Good for Cole.”

  Mr Ivers glared at me.

  “But disappointing for you, obviously.”

  “I don’t suppose you know of anyone else with Cole’s level of experience, do you?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “If my elbows don’t improve, I may have to look for a different line of work. Do you need any help? I could see myself as a private investigator.”

  “I’m afraid not, and besides, it takes years of experience.”

  “Really? You seem to muddle along okay.”

  ***

  “I have amazing news,” Mrs V said. She was obviously excited about something because she could barely sit still. “Armi popped the question last night.”

  “What question?”

  “He asked me to marry him, of course. It came completely out of the blue. We get along like a house on fire, but I never expected this—not even in my wildest dreams.”

  “I take it you said yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m absolutely thrilled for you.” I gave her a hug.

  “I want you and Jules to be my bridesmaids.”

  “Me? A bridesmaid?”

  “It would make me so happy. I’ve already spoken to Jules. I called her first thing. You will do it, won’t you, Jill?”

  “Err—yeah, of course. I’d love to.”

  Winky was on the sofa. “What’s the old bag lady so excited about?”

  “Mrs V is getting married.”

  “Don’t be daft.” He laughed. “Who’d have that old—”

  “That’s enough of that. Mrs V is a wonderful woman. Armi is lucky to have her.”

  “Is he blind? Or just stupid?”

  “Neither. He’s very much in love.”

  “It’s hardly worth them bothering.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it can’t be long before she’ll be pushing up the daisies.”

  “What a horrible thing to say. Sometimes, I despair of you.”

  “I’m only saying what everyone else will be thinking. When is this wedding?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t actually say, but she has asked me to be her bridesmaid.”

  “You?” He laughed even louder. “A bridesmaid? Do me a favour.”

  “Jules is going to be one too.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be standing next to her in the photographs? Oh dear.”

  “What do you mean, oh dear?”

  “Well, she’s young. And pretty. And you’re—”

  “I hope you aren’t expecting any salmon today, or for the rest of the year.”

  My first appointment of the day wasn’t for another thirty minutes, so I busied myself with important P.I. admin work.

  Winky jumped onto my desk. “I’m sorry to interrupt your paperclip sorting.”

  “It’s no good begging for salmon, not after what you said just now.”

  “Nah, I’m not bothered about the salmon.”

  “Aren’t you feeling well?”

  “Peggy has got me on a diet.” He sighed. “I just wanted to remind you that Socks will be popping by later.”

  “What do you mean: remind me? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Oh dear, that memory of yours.”

  “Don’t give me that. You never mentioned that Socks would be coming.”

  “He’s only popping in for a few minutes, that’s all.”

  “It had better be no longer than that. You know how I feel about your brother.”

  “He’s off on holiday, and he’s asked me to look after something for him while he’s away. Probably a plant.”

  ***

  Mrs V came through to my office, and dropped a brochure on my desk. “I hope you don’t mind, but I just nipped out to get this.”

  How could I object when I didn’t even pay her?

  “Wedding Dreams? Is that the shop next door to the fried chicken takeaway?”

  “That’s the one, dear. The woman who runs it is lovely. She said I can get ten percent off my first purchase.”

  “That’s nice.” It was probably to compensate for the smell of spicy chicken wings on the stock.

  “Look at this dress. I thought something like this would be ideal for you and Jules.”

  “It’s pink.”

  “My favourite colour.”

  “And frilly.”

  “Lovely, isn’t it?”

  “That bow is rather large.”

  “You and Jules will look lovely in these. I can’t wait to show it to her.”

  “I’ve been thinking, Mrs V. Might it be better to have Jules and Lules as your bridesmaids? They are—”

  “No. I barely know Lules. You do want to do it, don’t you, Jill?”

  I was desperate to say no, but it would have been like kicking a kitten.

  “Of course I do.” I glanced at my watch. “My first appointment should have been here ten minutes ago. They must be running late.”

  “The Bradleys? Oh dear, I’d completely forgotten about them. They’re in the outer office.”

  “Right. You’d better show them in, then.”

  “I’d make a better receptionist than the old bag lady,” Winky said when Mrs V went to collect the Bradleys.

  “She’s just excited about the wedding. What time is Socks coming?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’d better not come sailing through the window while I’m with my clients. I’m not sure how I’d explain away a microlight-flying cat.”

  Thomas Bradley was tall, slim and very loud. Georgina, his wife, was petite and mouse-like. They both looked to be in their mid-forties.

  “How can I help you?” I posed the question to them both, but I wasn’t too surprised when he was the one who answered.

  “My brother, Stephen, was murdered ten years ago. It was the anniversary of his death the day before yesterday.”

  “I see. I take it that his murderer was never brought to justice?”

  “That’s right, which is why we’re here today. After all of this time, it’s obvious that the police are never going to find the murderer. We hope that you can.”

  “Can you talk me through what happened ten years ago?”

  He turned to his wife, “Maybe you should start, darling.”

  The mouse looked unsure, but eventually found her voice. “Stephen was working late, which wasn’t particularly unusual. When it got to eleven o’clock, and he wasn’t back, I decided to go to bed, but when I woke the next morning, he still hadn’t come home.”

  “Sorry, I’m a little confused.” I turned to Thomas Bradley. “I thought Stephen was your brother?”

  “Sorry, we should have explained. Stephen was my brother; he and Georgina were man and wife at the time he was murdered.”

  “I see.”

  “After Stephen’s death, Georgina and I found comfort in each other’s company
. We didn’t plan for it to happen, but slowly and surely, we fell in love. We were married about five years ago.”

  “I see. Sorry for interrupting. You were telling me about the day that Stephen died.”

  She continued, “When I realised Stephen hadn’t come home, I became very worried. Although he often worked late, he never stayed out all night. I called his mobile phone, but it went to voicemail. I called his office number, but there was no reply. I was just about to call the police when they turned up at my door. Stephen’s PA had found him dead in his office. He’d been beaten to death.”

  “What can you tell me about the police investigation?”

  “There isn’t much to tell.” Thomas took over the story. “The murder weapon was a large metal paperweight from Stephen’s desk. No unusual fingerprints or DNA were found at the scene, and the CCTV didn’t throw up any useful leads.”

  “What did your husband do for a living, Mrs Bradley?”

  Before she could answer, Thomas jumped in again, “We were partners in an advertising agency. West Star, you’ve probably heard of it?”

  “No, I can’t say I have.”

  “We’re now the largest in Washbridge, but back then we were a much smaller outfit.”

  “Did your husband do or say anything just prior to his death that gave you cause to worry?”

  “No.” Georgina shook her head. “In fact, he was very upbeat because of the possibility of a takeover, which would have meant a large windfall. He was already planning how we’d spend it.”

  “What happened with the takeover bid?” I addressed the question to Thomas Bradley.

  “It fell through, as it turned out.”

  “Is the business still based in the same offices as ten years ago?”

  “We’re in the same building, but we’ve taken more space.”

  “I’d like to see the offices at some point. I assume that can be arranged?”

  “Of course.”

  “Georgina, where were you living when your husband died?”

  “In the same house where Thomas and I live today.”

  “Right. Maybe I could come and talk to you there, later in the week?”

  “Of course.”

  Twenty minutes later, we wrapped up the meeting, and the Bradleys went on their way. Fortunately, we hadn’t been interrupted by the feline microlight pilot.