Witch Is Why The Moon Disappeared (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 17) Read online

  Witch Is Why

  The Moon Disappeared

  Published by Implode Publishing Ltd

  © Implode Publishing Ltd 2017

  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 1

  Aunt Lucy had invited me over for breakfast, and trust me, I was never going to say no to Aunt Lucy’s full English.

  “That was delicious. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. Would you like another cup of tea?”

  “Not for me.” I mopped up the remaining tomato juice with the fried bread. “There is something else I need, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You don’t happen to know where I could find ointment for bunions, do you?”

  She gave me a withering look. The four boxes of Bunions Away, which had been bought as presents for Grandma’s birthday, were still stacked on top of the cupboard.

  “I take it Grandma hasn’t been back to collect them yet, then?”

  “I haven’t seen her since the birthday party. I’m devastated, as you can imagine.”

  “I wish she’d avoid me for a while. She’s on my back every few hours about the Levels Competition.”

  “Not long to go now. Are you nervous?”

  “Not for myself. I’ll do the best I can, and see where it takes me. But anything other than first place will be a failure in Grandma’s eyes.”

  “Have you managed to do much training?”

  I glanced around, just in case Grandma had sneaked in. “Officially, as in if Grandma asks, then yes, I’ve done lots of training.”

  “And unofficially?”

  “None to speak of. I’ve been pretty busy recently, so I haven’t had much opportunity. To be honest, though, I’d rather just see how I fare using the abilities I’ve developed naturally.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about your visit to CASS. How did that go? Were you okay on the airship?”

  “Surprisingly, I actually enjoyed the airship journey, but I didn’t get to give my talk.”

  “Why not?”

  “There was an incident. A creature breached the walls.”

  “A dragon?” Aunt Lucy looked alarmed.

  “No. It was something called a pouchfeeder—a horrible looking thing. It grabbed one of the young wizards, and was headed back to its nest, but we managed to stop it, and save the boy.”

  “We? How come you got involved?”

  “The strangest thing happened. Word came through about the creature while I was in the headmistress’s office. Somehow, and I have no idea how, I knew there was a secret passageway which would allow me to intercept the pouchfeeder before it could escape through the wall.”

  “How could you possibly have known about that?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out ever since I got back. I’d never been to CASS before, and yet I knew it was there.”

  “Have you mentioned this to Grandma?”

  “Not yet. I’m not sure if I should.”

  “I don’t imagine you felt much like giving your talk after that?”

  “It wasn’t that. I was quite happy to go ahead with the talk, but Ms Nightowl thought it would be best to postpone it. I’ve agreed to go back there at a later date.”

  “What did you think of the place itself?”

  “It’s an incredible building, but I didn’t really get to see very much of it. I’m hoping that next time I go, I might be able to spend more than one day there. I’d love to be able to explore it at my leisure.”

  “It’s a pity that you can’t share that part of your life with Jack.”

  “I know. There have been a few times when I’ve almost forgotten myself, and blurted something out.”

  “You must never do that.”

  “I know, and I won’t. I’m only too aware of what the consequences would be, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “You two are still getting on well together though, aren’t you?”

  “Oh yeah. I couldn’t be happier. Mind you, I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but Jack seems to have been dropping a lot of subtle hints recently.”

  “About what?”

  “Marriage and kids.”

  Just then, the temperature dropped, and my mother’s ghost appeared.

  “Children?” She joined us at the table. “The sooner the better. I can’t wait for grandchildren.”

  “Well you might just have to.”

  “Jack would make a great father,” my mother said.

  “I see you didn’t say that I’d make a great mother.”

  “Of course you would. That goes without saying. So, should I start knitting?”

  “No, you shouldn’t. There’s plenty of time for children later.”

  “Not if you want five of them.”

  “What? Who said anything about five?” It was time for a change of subject. “How are you and my father getting on?”

  Her sunny disposition evaporated. “I don’t have the patience to talk to that man. You know he’s painted his house red, don’t you?”

  “I think you did mention it.” Once or maybe ten times.

  ***

  I was still chuckling to myself about the bunion ointment when I got back to Washbridge. As I walked up the steps to my offices, I could hear voices—lots of them. When I stepped into the outer office it was like walking into a marketplace. The room was bustling with people, all looking at the merchandise.

  “What’s going on?” I called to Mrs V, who was standing in the middle of the room.

  “Morning, Jill. After I’d completed my stocktake, I came to the conclusion that you were right. I do have far too many scarves and socks in the office, so I decided that I should have a garage sale to get rid of some of them.”

  “Couldn’t you have taken the scarves and socks home with you, and had the garage sale at your house?”

  “No, dear, that wouldn’t have worked. I live quite far out, as you know. It would have been difficult for everyone to get to me. It’s much easier for people to come to this central location.”

  “Excuse me, Annabel, dear.” An elderly woman, with a blue rinse and an unusual taste in brooches, tapped Mrs V on the shoulder. “How much are these blue and yellow socks?”

  “The socks on top of the filing cabinet are three pounds. The ones on top of the linen basket are two pounds.”

  “How did you manage to attract so many people?” I asked.

  “It wasn�
��t difficult. I just put the word out on the woolvine.”

  “It looks like you’re going to make a killing.”

  “The money isn’t for me. I’ll be donating it to Yarn Aid. Is there anything that catches your eye?”

  “I’ll take a look later. I have a few things I need to do first.”

  “Just a minute, Jill. I found something that I think belongs to you, at the bottom of the linen basket.” She took a small black box out of the top drawer of her desk. “There you are. I don’t know how it got in there.”

  Mrs V went back to her garage sale, and I went through to my office where I opened the black box. Inside, was a silver necklace with the initials ‘JB’ engraved on the circular pendant. It definitely wasn’t mine, and I had no idea how it could have got into the linen basket. Was this what Alicia had been searching for? I put the necklace back into its box and slipped it into my bag.

  “Is that something to eat?” Winky said.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “It’s a ‘mind your own business’.”

  “Touchy today, aren’t we? Have you seen what the old bag lady is up to? She’s clueless when it comes to commerce. I could have got twice as much money for those scarves and socks if she’d let me sell them for her.”

  “And, of course, you wouldn’t have taken any commission?”

  “Of course I would. Do you think I’m running a charity here? When I was selling her scarves online, before you stuck your oar in and stopped me, I was making a pretty penny.”

  “Maybe you should learn to knit, Winky. That way you’d be able to sell your own knitwear.”

  “You know what?” He scratched his chin. “For once in your life, you may have had a good idea.”

  “You? Knit? Don’t make me laugh. And get down off my desk.”

  ***

  I was busy sorting the bills by colour: black, red, red, red, black, when the door to my office burst open, and in strode Leo Riley, followed closely by an irate Mrs V.

  “I’m sorry, Jill. I tried to tell this gentleman that he couldn’t see you without an appointment, but he just came in anyway.”

  “It’s okay, Mrs V. I’ll see to this gentleman.”

  She gave him one final scowl, and then retreated to her office.

  “What gives you the right to come charging in?” I demanded.

  “Are you allowed to sell knitwear from here?” Riley gestured to the outer office where the garage sale was still in full swing.

  “Is that why you’re here? To check on illegal knitwear sales?”

  “No, but I’m sure that your landlord would like to know you’re breaking the terms of your lease.”

  “If you must know, my PA is selling scarves and socks, which she has knitted herself. The proceeds will be going to charity. I doubt that would concern my landlord, and I’m struggling to understand why it should concern you.”

  “As it happens, I’m here on a much more serious matter.” He took a seat opposite my desk.

  “Do feel free to sit down. Have you come to thank me for solving the NOCA extortion case? Or maybe for finding the murderer of Bobo the clown?”

  “Neither. I’ve come to warn you that I will not tolerate vigilantes on my patch.”

  “My patch? You’ve been watching too many TV shows.”

  “I’m glad you think this is funny. I don’t.”

  “Why are you talking to me about vigilantes?”

  “Do sausages ring a bell?”

  “Mine don’t. If yours do, you need to change your butcher.”

  “Answer the question!”

  “Your sausage analogy is way too cryptic for me. What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Are you going to deny that you were in Penn butchers in New Manston?”

  “Why would I go all the way there just to buy a few pork chops?”

  “A woman matching your description was seen going into the shop shortly before the owner was tied up with his own sausages.”

  “Now you’re just making stuff up.” I laughed.

  “This is not a laughing matter.” It was obvious Riley didn’t think it was. “Are you denying having anything to do with it?”

  “Of course I am. Why would I want to tie up the butcher?”

  “Because he’d been conning old ladies out of money?”

  “Was he overcharging them for mincemeat?”

  “As you very well know, he’d been running a timeshare scam, using information taken from his son’s online forum.”

  “Sorry.” I shrugged. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “So, it’s just a coincidence that one of his victims happens to be your next-door neighbour, is it?”

  “I had no idea my neighbour had been conned, but I’m glad you’ve got the butcher behind bars. He sounds like a wrong’un.”

  “When I find proof that you were behind this, and I will, I’ll throw the book at you.” He pushed the chair back and stood up.

  “Don’t forget to buy some socks on your way out. Those are looking a bit threadbare.” I gestured to his feet.

  “Another member of your fan club?” Winky said, after Riley had left.

  “Looks like it. By the way, what’s the status of your love life?”

  “What love life? Bella and Peggy aren’t talking to me.”

  “It’s your own fault.”

  “Their loss. There’s plenty of feline totty that would be only too pleased to date the Winkmeister.”

  “Totty? Winkmeister? Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  Chapter 2

  It was just before lunchtime, and the crowd in the outer office had finally dispersed.

  “I have to say, Jill, that went much better than I could have hoped.” Mrs V looked very pleased with herself. “I’ve raised over a hundred and fifty pounds for Yarn Aid.”

  “That’s great. Look, I’m going to nip out for a few minutes. Can you tidy everything away while I’m gone? I have a potential client coming in this afternoon.”

  “Of course, dear. Leave it with me.”

  As I walked down the high street, I spotted Betty Longbottom coming out of her shop. I really wasn’t in the mood for Betty, so I dodged into The Final Straw. I hadn’t been overly impressed on my previous visit, but I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, it would be better this time.

  As before, I ordered a combination of three fruit flavours: Perfect Pear, Gorgeous Grape and Peach Fantastico. This time, I knew the drill, and took my seat at table number nine—an orange table close to the counter. Moments later, a straw appeared through the hole in the centre of the table. I took a long drink; it tasted like flat coke. Again.

  These people were having a laugh, so I decided to investigate further. I headed out of the shop, and down the alleyway which ran alongside it. After scaling a low wall, I found myself in the back yard of the shop. Once there, I made myself invisible, and knocked on the back door. It was answered by a middle-aged man, with more hair on his chin than on the top of his head.

  “Hello?” He looked puzzled.

  I waited until he was back inside, and then knocked again.

  “Who’s there?” He stepped outside. “Whoever it is, you’d better stop messing around, or I’ll call the police.”

  When he pulled the door open, I slipped inside ahead of him. The back room of the shop was dominated by a single, huge vat, which was half full of brown coloured liquid. Dozens of clear plastic straws carried the liquid from the vat through to the shop. Just as I’d suspected, no matter what fruit combination you ordered, you would always end up with the same drink.

  “Top up the vat, Colin, would you?” The man with the beard barked.

  A young man, who had been sitting next to the vat, went through to the store room, and returned carrying four large bottles of cheap, supermarket own-brand coke, which he proceeded to pour into the vat.

  What a con! Still, I didn’t have time to worry ab
out that now. I needed to get back to the office to meet the would-be client.

  I waited until both men were preoccupied, and then sneaked out of the back door. After reversing the ‘invisible’ spell, I scrambled over the wall, and hurried back up the alleyway. And who should I bump into? None other than Betty Longbottom.

  “Hi, Jill.”

  “Hello, Betty. Sorry, I can’t stop. I have a meeting back at the office.”

  “That’s okay. I’m just going to The Final Straw. Have you tried it yet?”

  “Yeah, I have actually.”

  “It’s fantastic, isn’t it?” Betty gushed. “In fact, it’s the only thing that gets me through the day, now that I have to work with Norman.”

  “Which are your favourite flavours?”

  “There are so many, aren’t there? But I’m quite partial to Blueberry Burst, Strawberry Sledgehammer and Raspberry Revelation.”

  “Sounds great! Enjoy!”

  Snigger.

  ***

  “Jill!” Kathy screamed down the phone. “I have the best news ever.”

  “Bye, Kathy.”

  “Hold on. What do you mean, Bye?”

  “Whenever you have good news it’s usually bad news. For me.”

  “Well that’s where you’re wrong. You’re going to thank me for this.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I know how much you love magic.”

  Huh? What did she mean by that? Did she know something?

  “I do?”

  “Of course you do. You’re always showing the kids magic tricks.”

  “I’ve shown them one. Once.”

  “I knew you’d be excited.”

  “About what?”

  “Tickets to see The Great Sylvester.”

  “Who?”

  “Come on, Jill. Everyone has heard of The Great Sylvester.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Jack has, and he’s thrilled to bits.”

  “You’ve done it again, haven’t you, Kathy?”

  “Done what?”

  “Gone to Jack behind my back, instead of coming to me first.”

  “Purely by accident. I hit the wrong name on my contact list.”

  “Do I look like I’ve fallen out of the stupid tree? Don’t answer that. Who is he anyway—this Fantastic Sylvester?”