Witch Is How To Fool Cats Read online

  Witch Is How

  To Fool Cats

  Published by Implode Publishing Ltd

  © Implode Publishing Ltd 2019

  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 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 1

  “Are you okay, Jill?” Jack looked up from his newspaper. “You’re very quiet this morning.”

  “I’m worried about tomorrow night. I haven’t felt this nervous since our wedding day.”

  It was only a few days since Aunt Lucy and Grandma had delivered the bombshell that I had a brother. Martin had been snatched from my mother only hours after he was born. He’d lived his whole life with Braxmore who had recently been found dead in Candlefield market square. I hadn’t met Martin yet, but through Grandma, we’d arranged to meet tomorrow night. Hence my jitters.

  “He’s probably just as nervous as you are.”

  “I doubt it. Aunt Lucy said he seems nice, but Grandma wasn’t overly impressed.”

  “To be fair, your grandmother is never easily impressed.”

  “That’s true. I’m definitely not her favourite person right now. Not after what happened with the beauty salon. I’m going to steer clear of her if I can.”

  “Have you seen this?” He pointed to an article on the front page of The Bugle. “It looks like the Washbridge Penguins will have to look for a new ground.”

  My recent investigations had resulted in the closure of Frank Royston’s drug network and money laundering operations. He would no doubt spend the next couple of years in the courts, and if there was any justice, he’d eventually end up behind bars. Royston was going to need all his money to pay for his expensive lawyers, and that meant there was no money for the Washbridge Penguins, in whom he’d never really had any interest.

  “It’s a shame. I hope they find somewhere else to play. One good thing has come out of it, though. Victor Duyew has been reappointed as manager. That man has a real passion for the team.”

  ***

  Mrs V had her umbrella out again.

  “Don’t tell me the leak is back?” I sighed.

  “It is, but not in the same place as before. Look.”

  She was right. The new leak was a few feet to the right of the previous one, but it was still dripping onto Mrs V’s desk.

  “Shall I call Mr Macabre again?” she offered.

  “Not yet. That guy is a waste of space. I want to take a look at what’s going on for myself first.”

  “You’re surely not going up on the roof. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

  “I’m really not happy about this, Jill.”

  With Mrs V’s protests still ringing in my ears, I made my way to the alleyway that ran along the side of the building. As always, it was quiet there, so no one saw me levitate up to the roof.

  It had rained heavily earlier, and it was still drizzling, so this wasn’t the best time to be walking across the slippery, sloping roof. Fortunately, I didn’t have to walk far because the cause of the leak soon became apparent. One of the slates was missing. I’d expected to find it cracked or broken, but there was no sign of it at all. A few feet to my left, there was a much newer slate, which had obviously been fitted to repair the previous leak.

  “Hey there!”

  The voice made me jump, and I very nearly lost my footing.

  “You scared me.”

  “Sorry.” The small stone-like creature gave a whole new meaning to the word ugly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “The name’s Ron Dadoo.”

  “Pardon me for asking, but are you a—err—?”

  “Gargoyle? I most certainly am.”

  “And you said your name is Dadoo?”

  “Ron. Ron will be fine.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ron. Do you live up here?”

  “Yeah. For a few months now.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I assume you’re up here because of that.” He gestured to the gap where the slate should have been.

  “Yeah. It’s the second time it’s happened in as many weeks. I don’t understand it. The slate seems to have disappeared altogether.”

  “I can clear that particular mystery up for you: The vultures took it.”

  “There aren’t any vultures in Washbridge.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. This is definitely the work of the slate vultures. I saw them take it with my own two eyes.”

  “Slate vultures? Are they like normal vultures?”

  “I couldn’t comment on that, on account of only ever having seen vultures of the slate variety.”

  “Could you describe one to me?”

  “There’s not a lot to describe: Beak, wings, eyes and legs. Oh, and they’re made of stone, obviously.”

  “How do they fly if they’re made of stone?”

  “They just flap their wings.” He waved his arms up and down, by way of demonstration.

  “And what do they do with the slates?”

  “They eat them of course.” He laughed. “What else would they do with them?”

  “How come I’ve never seen one?”

  “Have you ever seen a unicorn?”

  “Well, err—no.”

  “It’s the same deal. They’re very elusive.”

  “I can’t allow this to continue. My office is directly underneath here, and it’s getting very wet down there. Do you have any idea how I can stop them stealing more slates?”

  “I could stop them for you.”

  “Would you?”

  “For a small fee, yes.”

  “I’m pretty much broke right now. How much would you want?”

  “I don’t want your money. It’s no good to me.”

  “What then?”

  “Sugar mice. I absolutely love them. If you could see your way clear to keeping me supplied with sugar mice—one a day ought to do it—then I’ll be happy to ward off the slate vultures.”

  “Okay, it’s a deal. It’s ages since I’ve seen any sugar mice, but I’ll call in at the corner shop tonight; they’re bound to have some. In the meantime, I’d better get the landlord to send someone to replace this slate. I’m Jill, by the way.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jill.”

  ***

  Winky was seated on the sofa.

  “Is that a new look you’re going for?” He grinned.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your hair looks like you’ve been in a wind tunnel.”

  “I’ve just been up on the roof.”

  �
�Don’t tell me some idiot talked you down. There goes my insurance pay-out.”

  “You say that, but you’ll be sorry when I’m gone.”

  “With the premium I have on your head? I don’t think so.”

  “Charming. Anyway, there’s another water leak in the outer office. I went up there to find out what’s going on.”

  “This whole building is falling to bits. I don’t know why you don’t relocate to somewhere more modern. I’m ashamed to invite people over here.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, this is my office. You shouldn’t be inviting anyone over.”

  “What did you find up on the roof?”

  “I got talking to a gargoyle.”

  “I didn’t realise the old bag lady had gone up there with you.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say. I meant a real gargoyle.”

  “Like that’s a thing.”

  “It is. He is. His name is Ron.”

  “What kind of name is that for a gargoyle? He should be called something like Shadow or Darkness.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but he’s called Ron Dadoo.”

  “Ron? Ron? That’s a rubbish name. So, what did this Ron have to say?”

  “According to him, a slate vulture is stealing the roof slates.”

  “Did you stop off at the bar on the way into work? Have they started having a happy hour in the mornings now?”

  “Of course I didn’t. It’s true. It seems that slate vultures eat the slates.”

  We were interrupted by Winky’s phone ringing. “Winky the handsome one speaking. Hey, Freddie, how’s it hanging?”

  While he was busy on the phone, it gave me the chance to take a closer look at my desk, which Winky had decoupaged over the weekend. It looked truly dreadful—there was no way on earth I could live with it like that.

  “Nah, Freddie,” he continued. “Thanks for thinking of me, but it isn’t really my thing. Yeah, I’m positive. Okay, catch you later.” Having ended the call, he turned his attention back to me. “That was Freddie the Fish.”

  “A fishmonger, I assume?”

  “No. Just a really bad poker player. He was trying to sell me some health products, but like I told him, this body of mine is already fine-tuned.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.”

  “Stones? Glasshouses? Anyway, what do you think of what I did with your desk?”

  “When you said you were going to decoupage it, you didn’t mention that you’d be covering it with images of you.”

  “It looks good, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s awful. You’re going to have to remove all of this.”

  “No chance. Have you forgotten our deal? I provided you with a couple of hundred soft toy penguins, and in return you let me decoupage your desk.”

  “They weren’t penguins. They were cats with beaks and wings.”

  Just then, Mrs V came through the door, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw my desk.

  “Jill? What on earth have you done to your desk?”

  “I—err—”

  “You told me you didn’t want to make any changes to it.”

  “I can explain.”

  “If you didn’t trust me to make a good job of it, all you had to do was be honest. There was no need to lie.”

  “I—err—”

  “I’m sorry to say this, but your decoupage skills leave a lot to be desired. And why would you choose to decorate it with pictures of that awful cat?”

  Over on the sofa, Winky looked as though he wanted to tear Mrs V’s eyes out.

  “You’re right, Mrs V. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shall be removing the decoupage shortly.”

  “Your ten o’clock, Mrs Green, is here. Shall I send her through?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Did you hear what the old bag lady said?” Winky was spitting feathers. “How dare she?”

  “She’s right. This desk is a mess.”

  “If you think I’m going to stand by while you destroy my hours of hard work, you have another think coming.”

  “I have a client to see, so we’ll have to discuss this later.”

  Paula Green was an attractive woman in her early fifties. Her dress sense, though, was a little left-field: a black suit combined with red snow boots.

  As she took a seat, her gaze was drawn to my desk.

  “My cousin is into decoupage, but she’s never tackled anything as ambitious as a desk. It’s an unusual theme.” She glanced across at Winky who was now seated on the windowsill. “Isn’t that—?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Did you do the decoupage?”

  “Err, no. It was—err—my receptionist, Mrs V.”

  “She must really love that cat.”

  “She does, and he loves her too, don’t you, boy?”

  Winky shot me a one-eyed look, and then disappeared out of the window.

  “Will he be okay?” Paula Green looked horrified. “It’s quite a drop.”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s probably gone to see Harold and Ida.”

  “Are there other cats up here?”

  “No. Harold and Ida are pigeons.”

  “Oh? And they all get along, do they?”

  “Yeah. Best of buddies. Now, what brings you here today, Mrs Green?”

  “Call me Paula, please. It’s about my husband, John. He died just over a month ago.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. His death has been treated as suicide, but I simply don’t believe that.”

  “How did he die?”

  “John was quite active for his age: Golf, tennis and swimming. He swam two or three times every week. That’s where he died.”

  “At the swimming pool?”

  “Yes. In Washbridge Leisure Centre.”

  “What happened exactly?”

  She took out a phone and held it up for me to see. “I should warn you this is a little upsetting.”

  “Okay.”

  She pressed play on the video. “That’s John.”

  On-screen, a man dressed in trunks was walking along the edge of the swimming pool. Normally there wouldn’t have been anything unusual about that, but the swimming pool had been drained. As far as I could tell, there was no one else in the large hall, other than the person who had recorded the video. When the man reached the far side of the pool, he began to climb the steps up to the diving platforms.

  As soon as I realised what was about to happen, a shiver ran down my spine. Whoever had recorded the video must have realised too because the camerawork at this point became much shakier.

  The man bypassed the lower two platforms and continued until he was on the high board. Every instinct told me to look away, but I couldn’t—I was transfixed by what I was seeing.

  And then it happened: He dived—he didn’t jump—it was a perfectly executed forward dive towards the empty pool below. Thankfully, the video cut out just moments before the man hit solid ground.

  I was speechless.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Err, yeah. I just—err—”

  “It’s shocking, isn’t it?”

  “I can’t imagine how you must have felt when you first saw it.”

  “Will you help me? Will you prove my husband’s death wasn’t suicide?”

  “I have to be honest with you, Paula. Having seen the video, that isn’t going to be an easy thing to do.”

  “John was a very successful businessman. He made a lot of money. I’m willing to pay you whatever it takes to find out what really happened.”

  “What if I come to the conclusion that it was suicide? What then?”

  “You won’t. I’m confident of that.”

  “There are a couple of things I don’t understand.”

  “Ask away.”

  “How come the pool was empty?”

  “There are two full-size pools at the leisure centre. That particular one was closed for repair.”
>
  “Who recorded the video?”

  “The maintenance guy working on the pool. Apparently, he’d shouted at John to get out of there. When John ignored him, he started to record the video, so he could report him. He said he had no idea what John was going to do, and by the time he realised, it was too late. Thankfully, he stopped the recording just in time.”

  “I have to say that I’m a little shell-shocked by what I’ve just seen, Paula. It might be best if we get together again when I’ve had the chance to gather my thoughts. I’ll have lots more questions for you then.”

  “I understand.”

  “Rather than you have to come back here, why don’t I pay you a visit at your house?”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon? Say two o’clock?”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Chapter 2

  Not long after Paula Green had left, Winky reappeared.

  “It’s cold out there.” He shivered.

  “No one forced you to leave.”

  “I wasn’t going to stick around to listen to you libelling me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You told that woman that I love the old bag lady.”

  “I think you’ll find you mean slander.”

  “Whatever.”

  “How can it be slanderous when it’s the truth? You try to pretend you don’t, but I know deep down inside you do.”

  “If that woman was on fire, I wouldn’t cross the road to—”

  “That’s quite enough of that!”

  “Bring back Jules, that’s what I say.”

  “We’re not going back over that old ground again.”

  “That new client of yours is a bit of a weirdo, isn’t she? How can she deny it was suicide after her old man donned his Speedos and took a swan dive off the high-board?”

  “How do you know what he did? You were outside when I watched the video.”

  “I have my methods.”

  I glanced around the office. “Have you got this place bugged?”

  “Do you think I’d tell you if I had?” He grinned. “So, what are you going to do about Speedo guy?”

  “Please don’t call him that. It’s very disrespectful.”

  “You could just pretend to work on the case, run up a big bill, and then say something like sorry, I’m afraid it was suicide.”