Witch Is Where Squirrels Go Nuts (Witch P.I. Mystery Book 39) Page 11

  “Rubbish,” Pearl said. “Donkeys are great fun.”

  “Yeah, come on kids.” Amber was already out of her deckchair.

  “Please, Mummy!” Florence grabbed my hand.

  “Okay, we’ll go and see what the man says.”

  The donkeys were walking up and down the beach, near the sea’s edge.

  “They look awfully big,” I said when we got closer.

  “Not all of them. There are some smaller ones.” Pearl pointed out.

  Amber went up to the man in charge and asked if it was okay for the girls to ride on them.

  “Yes, it’s perfectly safe. Maureen will accompany the youngsters.”

  “What about us adults?”

  “You’re fine too. These bigger ones can carry adults quite easily.”

  “Hold on.” I took a step back. “I’m not going on one of those things.”

  “Come on, Mummy.” Florence tugged on my hand.

  “Yes, come on, Mummy,” Pearl said. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

  Before I knew it, I was seated astride a donkey called Trudy.

  Maureen, the man’s partner, took the reins of the kids’ donkeys and led them slowly down the beach; our donkeys followed them. When we’d gone about a hundred yards, Maureen turned around and started back the way we’d come. Amber and Pearl’s donkeys followed suit, but mine kept on going.

  “Hey, Trudy,” I said. “You should have turned around back there.”

  “Why? I want to walk down here.”

  How come I got the donkey with attitude and an independent streak?

  “Come on, Trudy. Please!”

  She ignored me and carried on. Eventually, after another hundred yards or so, she stopped dead in her tracks.

  “What now?” I said.

  “This is where you get off.”

  “Can’t you take me back?”

  “No, I’m done.”

  “Great!” As I dismounted, I saw Maureen running down the beach towards us.

  “Why didn’t you turn Trudy around?” she said.

  “I don’t know how to steer a donkey. She just kept on going.”

  “I should charge you double.”

  “You’ll be lucky.”

  “That was fun, wasn’t it, Mummy?” Florence said when I re-joined them at the deckchairs.

  “It was great.”

  “You had a longer ride than everyone else.”

  “That’s because my donkey wouldn’t turn around.”

  “A bad workman blames his donkey,” Pearl quipped.

  ***

  It was mid-afternoon when Jack arrived home. Florence was outside in the garden, playing with Buddy.

  “I see you’ve still got your clown trousers on,” I said.

  “I’ll have you know that several people commented on my plus fours.”

  “I just bet they did.”

  “They said how smart I looked.”

  “They were definitely lying. So, how did the golf go?”

  “Not so great, I’m afraid.” He sighed. “I need a lot more practice. I managed to lose six balls.”

  “How on earth do you lose six balls in one round of golf?”

  “Some of the holes on that course are very challenging. On the fourth, for example, you have to get over a stream to get to the green.”

  “I take it you didn’t manage to get over the stream?”

  “It took me four attempts. That’s where I lost three of the balls. At this rate, it’s going to cost me more in golf balls than the monthly membership.”

  “Couldn’t you have just paddled in the stream and retrieved them?”

  “In my plus fours? Certainly not.”

  Florence came rushing in. “Daddy, Daddy, I had a brilliant time at the seaside.”

  “Did you, pumpkin? I wish I could have been there with you. Did you make any sandcastles?”

  “Yes, I made lots more than the Lily’s, didn’t I, Mummy?”

  “I don’t know, darling, I didn’t count them.”

  “I did. I made tons. And I’m much better at magic than they are. They’re rubbish. They couldn’t even do the ‘faster’ spell. Me and Mummy went on the donkeys too.”

  Jack turned to me. “You went on a donkey?”

  “It wasn’t my idea. The twins bullied me into it.”

  “Mummy’s donkey wouldn’t turn around.” Florence giggled. “It just kept on going.”

  Jack looked to me for an explanation.

  “It’s like Florence said. All the other donkeys turned around and walked back up the beach, but my stupid donkey refused to. It just kept going in the same direction.”

  “I’m going outside to play with Buddy again,” Florence said.

  “Okay, darling.”

  “It sounds like Florence enjoyed herself,” Jack said.

  “She definitely did.” I quickly checked that she was out of earshot. “Guess what I discovered today?”

  “That you don’t know how to control a donkey?”

  “I’m being serious. I found out that Florence has had her nose in the spell book again.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You know that basket she brought home yesterday?”

  “Yeah, it was really good.”

  “I’m not surprised, seeing as how she used magic to make it.”

  “Are you sure? She might just have a natural talent for basket-weaving.”

  “I’m positive because I found her jammy fingerprints on the page for that spell.”

  “Oh dear.” He grinned. “Still, if it’s only the once.”

  “That’s just it. It isn’t. If it were just the basket-weaving spell, I wouldn’t be too concerned, but while we were at Candle Sands, a young boy kicked over some of the girls’ sandcastles.”

  “Little boys are so horrible, aren’t they?”

  “No kidding. When he ran off, Florence turned him into a snake.”

  “She did what?”

  “You heard. She turned him into a snake.”

  “What did Aunt Lucy and the twins make of that?”

  “Luckily, they didn’t realise she was the one who’d done it. They all assumed it was me. I didn’t correct them because I didn’t want them to know it was Florence. It’s one thing for her to use magic to weave baskets, but quite another to turn someone into a snake. That’s a very advanced spell.”

  “It sounds like she’s going to be a powerful witch, just like her mother.”

  “I know, and that’s all well and good, but she could end up getting into serious trouble.”

  “What do you think we should do about it?”

  “I really don’t know. I’ll need to give it some thought overnight.”

  Chapter 13

  It was Monday morning and Florence was much slower at eating her breakfast, so when Jack and I had finished, I caught his eye, and gestured that we should go through to the lounge.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do about Florence and her magic?” he said.

  “I’m going to call Aunt Lucy later. I want to set up a meeting with her and Grandma.”

  “Your grandmother? Why on earth would you involve her? This is all her fault, anyway.”

  “You can’t blame Grandma for what’s happened in the last few days.”

  “Why not? If she hadn’t gone behind our backs, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

  “Going over old ground won’t get us anywhere. I want to hear as many opinions as possible before I decide what to do.”

  “But we’re her parents, Jill.”

  “I know that, but it can’t do any harm to talk it over with Aunt Lucy and Grandma. We’ll still be the ones who make the decision.”

  “I wish I could be involved in the discussion.”

  “What good would it do? This is primarily about magic, and with the best will in the world, there’s not a lot you can offer on that subject.”

  “Okay. But you mustn’t agree to anything until you’ve run it by me.”
>
  “I won’t. I promise.”

  I didn’t want Florence to hear, so I waited until I was out of the house before calling Aunt Lucy.

  “Morning, Jill. You’re up bright and early this morning. Did you and Florence enjoy yourselves at the seaside yesterday?”

  “Yes, we both had a lovely time. Florence has talked about nothing else since we got back. The reason I called is to ask if I could get together with you and Grandma for a chat.”

  “What about?”

  “I want to talk to you both about Florence and her magic.”

  “Are you sure you want your grandmother there?”

  “Much as it pains me to say so, I think she needs to be. Will you see what you can arrange?”

  “Of course I will. I’ll get hold of her as soon as possible, and I’ll call you back.”

  ***

  I’d just walked into the office building when who should I see, sitting on the landing, staring down at me, but that pesky squirrel.

  This was getting beyond a joke. I was going to have it out with that squirrel once and for all. I was just about to start up the stairs when the door behind me opened, and a woman with a Jack Russell came in. As soon as the dog saw the squirrel, he pulled so hard on the lead that it slipped out of the woman’s hand. Seeing the dog charging towards it, the squirrel bolted down the corridor in the direction of Bubbles. The woman and I both rushed up the stairs.

  “Come here, Malcolm,” she shouted. “Come back here right now!”

  The woman managed to grab the dog.

  “Did you see where that squirrel went?” I said.

  “No, it’s disappeared. What was it doing in here, anyway?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I’m sorry about Malcolm. He’s usually so well behaved.”

  “No problem.”

  I went through to my office where Mrs V was looking down in the dumps.

  “What’s the matter, Mrs V?”

  “I’ve had some terrible news. You know I mentioned that two of my yarnie friends had been hospitalised after taking that sleeping draught? Well, one of them, Sue Cumber, has been moved to intensive care. It’s touch and go whether she’ll make it or not.”

  “Oh dear. I’m really sorry to hear that. I hope she pulls through.”

  “What was all that noise out there, Jill?”

  “A Jack Russell. He was on his way to Bubbles, but he managed to slip the lead and run up the stairs.”

  I thought it best not to mention the squirrel because I didn’t want to blow Mrs V’s mind.

  There was no sign of Winky, which came as something of a relief because I was due to hold an interview for the post of private investigator. As I walked across the room, Bertie and Bobby, my resident pigeons, landed on the ledge outside the window.

  “Hi, boys. The last time I saw you two, you were just about to go on a double date. How did it go?”

  “We thought it had gone well,” Bertie said.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Not really.” Bobby sighed. “We haven’t heard from Bianca or Briana since.”

  “Have you tried contacting them?”

  “We can’t because, like idiots, we didn’t take their phone numbers.”

  “That was a bit silly, wasn’t it?”

  “They took ours, and we just assumed they’d call us, but there’s been no word. We’ve taken to hanging around the fountain in the park, in the hope that they’ll show up, but there’s been no sign of them so far. It’s like they’ve disappeared off the face of the earth. We’re not sure if they’re avoiding us or if something’s happened to them.”

  “You need to give it more time, boys. I’m sure they’ll be in touch. We ladies don’t like to appear too keen, you know.”

  “I hope you’re right, Jill, because we really enjoyed our date. Anyway, it’s breakfast time. We’d better get going.”

  Poor Bobby and Bertie. Those guys weren’t having much luck in the dating stakes.

  It was almost ten o’clock and my interviewee was due to arrive at any moment. If he was half as good as his CV suggested, then he should be an ideal fit. Hopefully, he’d be able to start immediately, in which case I thought I might run a small advertising campaign to try to generate more business. But I was getting ahead of myself. I needed to see how the interview played out first.

  Just then, Winky came through the window, and for reasons known only to him, he was wearing a suit.

  Great! I’d been hoping he’d stay away until the interview was over. Having a cat in the office wouldn’t give my prospective new employee a good impression.

  “Are you going somewhere?” I said hopefully. “You look like you’re dressed for a wedding.”

  “Nope.” He jumped down from the windowsill, hurried across the room, and then hopped onto the seat opposite me. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “You can’t sit there. I’m due to interview someone for the post of private investigator in a couple of minutes.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Move then.”

  “It’s me you’re interviewing.”

  “What? But I was expecting someone called Felix Per—” That’s when the penny dropped. “Hold on a minute. Felix? Purr—kins? It’s you, isn’t it?”

  “None other. I knew if I used my real name, you wouldn’t give me the time of day. But when you saw my CV, you couldn’t wait to offer me an interview.”

  “I am not interviewing you.”

  “That’s understandable. After all, you already know about my many qualities, so we can dispense with the formality of an interview. Let’s just talk terms of employment.”

  “I’m not interviewing you, and I’m certainly not employing you as a private investigator.”

  “Why not?”

  “For a start, you’re a cat.”

  “You can’t discriminate on that basis. That’s animalism.”

  “There’s no such thing, and what’s all this rubbish you put on the CV about spending eight years in the private investigator arena?”

  “It’s true. I’ve been in this office for that long, and if this isn’t the private investigator arena, I don’t know what is.”

  “You’re wasting my time. And, where did you get that suit from?”

  “I hired it especially for today. It cost me an arm and a leg. Come on, you could at least give me an interview.”

  “It would be a waste of time because there’s no way I’m employing a cat as a private investigator.” I stood up and started for the door. “I have to go out.”

  “What about the suit? Aren’t you at least going to reimburse me for that?”

  “No, I’m not. You can whistle and flute for it.”

  Mrs V shot me a puzzled look. “I thought you had an interview arranged for this morning, Jill. Mr Perkins, wasn’t it?”

  “He phoned earlier to say he’s withdrawn his application.”

  “It was rather inconsiderate of him to leave it until the last minute to tell you. Do you have many more interviews lined up?”

  “No, I’ve given up on the idea of recruiting anyone. I work better alone.”

  “You’re probably right. What with you being a control freak.”

  ***

  I wanted to know what progress, if any, the police had made with their investigation into Miss Drinkwater’s murder. I had considered asking Jack to talk to one of his ex-colleagues, but he would more than likely have refused. And, besides, I shouldn’t need to rely on him to do my job for me.

  To find out what the police knew would require a visit to the incident room at Washbridge Police Station—something that didn’t pose any particular difficulties for me these days. It had been a different matter the first time I’d done it. That had been many years earlier when I investigated the ‘Animal’ serial killer case. The murderer had been targeting women with ‘animal’ surnames such as Lamb and Fox. Jack had been the detective in charge of that case. Back then, he and I couldn’t stand
the sight of one another.

  At the time, magic had all been very new to me, and I was nothing like as powerful as I am now. I’d used the ‘invisible’ spell, but it had only lasted for a short period of time, so I’d been forced to hide underneath the desk. That’s when I got my first glimpse of Jack’s Tweety Pie socks. Even now, the thought of it brought a smile to my face. How could I have known then that I’d end up marrying the man with the stupid socks, and that we’d have a child together? Life sure was strange.

  Fortunately, Washbridge Police Station hadn’t changed much over the years, so I was able to use the same MO to get inside: I made myself invisible and waited at the side door until someone let themselves in using the access code, then I sneaked in behind them. The interior of the police station was more or less the same as the last time I’d been there, except that it had been given a much-needed lick of paint.

  Once inside, I made my way to the incident room on the first floor. Stuck to the top of the whiteboard was a photograph of Miss Drinkwater. Below that, were other photos of the crime scene, including one of her body, which was on the floor near to the counter. Just as Marian had said, Miss Drinkwater was lying in a pool of water. There was no sign of broken glass, which I found curious. Surely the glass would have smashed when she dropped it. There was a horrific injury on the side of her head.

  It only took a quick scan of the notes on the whiteboard for me to realise that the police knew little more than I did. There were arrows linking the two waitresses, Marian and Elizabeth. Another of the arrows pointed to a photo of Miss Drinkwater’s brother, Ryan, who was the spitting image of his sister. The vicar was on there too, as were the couple who had been staying at Grandma’s hotel. At the very bottom of the whiteboard, in big letters, were the words: Murder Weapon? Clearly the police had yet to identify what had been used in the attack.

  It was time to take my leave. This had been a colossal waste of time because I’d learned nothing that I didn’t already know. As I walked along the corridor towards the stairs, I heard footsteps coming up them. It was Big Mac and another officer, and they were obviously discussing the Drinkwater case.