Witch Is How To Fool Cats Read online

  “You can’t carry on like that.”

  “Thanks very much for that insightful comment, Jill. I never would have worked that out for myself.”

  “Hey, don’t have a go at me. I warned the two of you that your system wasn’t up to it.”

  “I’m sorry.” She was close to tears now. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Okay, this is what’s going to happen. You have to shut down the loyalty scheme right now.”

  “How can we do that? The customers will lynch us.”

  “No, they won’t. You’ll still have to give a free drink to anyone who presents a card full of crosses. You don’t have any choice in the matter. But make sure you take the cards off them and explain that the loyalty scheme has been suspended indefinitely.”

  “What do we say if they ask why?”

  “Tell them you’re exploring better systems. Then, you and Pearl need to have a think about whether you’re going to invest money in a proper loyalty scheme, or if you’re going to drop the idea for good.”

  “Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

  “Can you think of anything?”

  She shook her head.

  “There’s your answer then. And the sooner you do it, the better.”

  “You’re right. I’ll go and tell the rest of the staff now.”

  ***

  Back at the office, Winky gave me a puzzled look. “You’ll never get into that thing.”

  “It’s a pixie outfit for my niece.”

  “I didn’t realise your niece was a pixie.”

  “She isn’t. She’s playing a pixie in the school play. Now shush. I need to concentrate.”

  Ideally, I would have liked to resize the dress while Lizzie was in the room with me, so that I could be sure it was the right size. To do that would have meant performing magic in front of her and Kathy, so that was a non-starter. I had no choice but to have a stab at it.

  My first attempt was way off. It was much too big. My second attempt wasn’t much better; now it was way too small. But you know what they say: third time’s a charm, and so it proved. Lizzie was going to be thrilled, and Kathy would be in my debt once again.

  Just then, I heard a familiar voice coming from the outer office.

  “Why don’t you give Jules her old job back and sack the old bag lady?” Winky said. He had clearly recognised her voice too.

  She and Mrs V were deep in conversation, and they were each holding a sheet of paper.

  “Back again, Jules?” I said. “You must be missing us.”

  “I do, but that’s not why I’m here. I came to compare notes with Annabel.”

  “Oh? On what?”

  “The beauty audit at Nailed-It.”

  “Have you both had yours done?”

  “Yeah, and a complete waste of time it was too.” Jules sighed.

  I was surprised to hear her say that because, although I wasn’t a huge fan of Deli’s business, I’d been quite impressed by the Beauty Needs Analyser. Since I’d taken the beauty audit, though, I’d been so busy, I hadn’t had a chance to study my results.

  “What makes you say that, Jules?”

  “Just look at these.” She and Mrs V passed me their printouts.

  “They’re very similar.”

  “They’re not similar,” Mrs V said. “They’re identical.”

  “Hold on a minute.” I nipped through to my office to get my own beauty audit print-out. “Snap! Mine’s the same.”

  “It’s a con,” Jules said. “We can’t possibly all need exactly the same treatments. I mean, it doesn’t make sense. I’m still young and you’re—”

  “Careful,” I interrupted her. “There’s no need to upset Mrs V.”

  “I was going to say that you’re much older than me, Jill.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Sorry, but you know what I mean. We shouldn’t have identical reports.”

  “That much is obvious,” I agreed. “I think I need to have a quiet word with Deli.”

  ***

  I was about to become a superhero.

  In Lizzie’s eyes, at least.

  When I turned up with the pixie outfit, my place as her favourite auntie would be secured once and for all. And, of course, I would milk it with Kathy for all it was worth.

  “Jill?” Kathy greeted me at the door. “You should have warned me that you were coming over, I’m right in the middle of something.”

  Not exactly the welcome I’d expected, but that would soon change once I showed her the pixie dress.

  “Auntie Jill!” Lizzie came rushing out to greet me with a hug. “Do you like it?”

  “Like what?”

  She took a step back. “My pixie outfit.”

  Lizzie was wearing what at first glance appeared to be a green sack with holes cut out for her head and arms.

  “What’s that thing?”

  Her little face fell, and I felt like the most horrible person in the world.

  “Jill!” Kathy was red-faced with anger.

  “No, I—err—meant—it’s lovely, obviously. But I thought you hadn’t got one? I thought you’d been let down?”

  “Rebecca’s mum came to our rescue.” Kathy ruffled Lizzie’s hair. “Didn’t she, Pumpkin?”

  “Where did she get it from?” I said.

  “Rebecca’s sister was a pixie in a show a couple of years ago, and they’d kept the costume. When she heard what had happened with Lizzie, she let us have it. It fits like a dream, doesn’t it, Jill?”

  “Err, yeah, it—err—”

  “Don’t you like it, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie looked at me with big sad eyes.

  “Of course I do. I just thought you’d prefer this authentic pixie outfit.” I held up the carrier bag I’d brought with me from the car.

  “Authentic?” Kathy scoffed. “You do know that pixies aren’t real, don’t you, Jill?”

  “Err, yeah of course. What I meant is—err—”

  “Let’s have a look.” Kathy took the bag from me. “What is this?” She laughed.

  “Pixies don’t wear those,” Lizzie said with all the authority of an expert on the subject.

  “But it—err, but I got it from—”

  “A joke shop by the look of it.” Kathy was close to tears. “I’m sorry for laughing, Jill. It was good of you to go to so much trouble, but even you have to agree that the outfit Lizzie is wearing is much better.”

  I wanted to tell her that it looked like a sack, and that I was the only person present who actually knew what pixies wore. But how could I do that? Lizzie was obviously delighted with the sack—err—outfit, so there was no way I could break her little heart.

  “Err, yeah. You’re right. You look just like a pixie, Lizzie.”

  “Thank you, Auntie Jill.” She did a little twirl.

  It looked no better from the back.

  Chapter 17

  “It’s the ingratitude that gets me!” I fumed, in-between mouthfuls of toast.

  I’d been venting my frustration to Jack ever since we’d rolled out of bed.

  He shrugged. “What does it matter so long as Lizzie is happy with her—?”

  “Sack. It looked just like a sack with holes cut out for her head and arms. Why would she turn down the real McCoy for that thing?”

  “You seem to have forgotten that Kathy and Lizzie have no idea that pixies are real.”

  “They both laughed at it.”

  “If I were you, I’d just forget about it.”

  “How am I supposed to do that when we’re going to the play tonight? I’ll have to watch her dancing around on stage in a sack. What time does it start, anyway?”

  “We said we’d meet Kathy and Peter there at seven. I thought you and I could try that new restaurant on the way home.”

  “Ooh, I do like the sound of that. Which new restaurant is that?”

  “The one that’s opened up where the chippy used to be.”

  “Tish and
Chip’s old place?”

  “Yeah. After they moved out to focus on their soft furnishings, they put the building up for sale.”

  “I had no idea. How did you hear about the new restaurant?”

  “It was Mr Hosey who told me about it. He couldn’t recommend it highly enough.”

  “Okay, well that’s something to look forward to, I guess.”

  ***

  “I am the champion. I am the champion.” Mrs V was singing on loop. I say singing, but in all honesty, it sounded like half a dozen cats were being tortured.

  “What are you so upbeat about, Mrs V?” I didn’t actually care, but anything to put a stop to that awful racket.

  “You should have seen Marjorie Bead’s face, Jill.”

  “Oh yes, it was your tiddlywink challenge last night, wasn’t it? I take it that you won?”

  “Yes. Three-two in a best of five match.”

  “Well done, you.”

  “Marjorie had the nerve to accuse me of cheating, but then she always was a bad loser. I remember when she lost to Sylvia Shivers in the Yarn Games. She was just the same then.”

  “What did you win?”

  “Twenty pounds, but even better, the satisfaction of seeing Marjorie’s nose put out of joint. That was more than enough for me. By the way, I called the two people you asked me to contact. They both said they’d be happy to speak to you, so I’ve arranged provisional times for you to go and see them. I’ve put a note on your desk.”

  “Excellent. Thanks.”

  “You should ask the old bag lady for some tips.” Winky was lying on his back in the middle of my office floor.

  “Tips on what?”

  “Tiddlywinks. You haven’t forgotten that you and I have a match tomorrow, have you?”

  “Of course not, and I don’t need any tips to beat you. I could do that with my eyes closed.”

  “You mean like when you got dressed this morning.”

  “You, sir, are getting too cheeky. It’s about time you showed me a little more respect. Anyway, what time are we supposed to go and see the FelHealth distributor?”

  “I said I’d be there at ten.”

  “Okay. I’ll have Mrs V make me a coffee, and then we’ll get going.”

  ***

  We were in my car, and I’d been following Winky’s directions for the last fifteen minutes.

  “Where exactly are we headed?”

  “We’re almost there.” He glanced again at Google Maps. “Just a couple more miles. Take the next left.”

  “When we get there, you have to keep your cool,” I warned him.

  “Why don’t I just beat the information out of the lowlife scum?”

  “Because that’s not what we agreed. Just keep him occupied while I take a look around. Okay?”

  “I suppose so.”

  The FelHealth distributor was a cat called Corduroy. And yes, it is a stupid name.

  I parked the car a couple of streets away, and after casting the ‘invisible’ spell, I walked with Winky to the house. Entrance was via the cat flap around the back, so I had to shrink myself to get through. As far as I could make out, the occupants of the house—Corduroy’s owners—were out, so it was just the two cats and invisible me.

  Once inside, Winky and Corduroy went through to the lounge. Hopefully, Winky would be able to keep a rein on his temper. I started downstairs but found nothing of any interest in the kitchen. Upstairs there were three bedrooms. The master bedroom didn’t take long to check: There was nothing in the wardrobes, the chest of drawers or under the bed. I drew a blank in the second, smaller bedroom too. The tiny third bedroom was being used as a storage room—much like our own, minus the railway set. The room was so full that I could barely squeeze through the door.

  Searching through all the junk was slow going, and I was just beginning to think it was a bust when I came across a folder, which was hidden between two large boxes at the very back of the room. On the front cover was a logo—a cat’s paw—and the name FelHealth.

  Five minutes later, I had found just what I needed, so I headed back out of the house.

  Winky was waiting for me at the car.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  “I have to hand it to the guy: he’s really good at what he does. He almost had me convinced to sign up.”

  “You didn’t, did you?”

  “Of course not. I was too busy thinking about how much I wanted to punch his face. What about you? Did you find anything?”

  “I didn’t find any of the FelHealth products. He must be keeping those somewhere else.”

  “I knew I should have hit him. I’m going back in there.”

  “No, don’t. I found something much better than that.”

  ***

  From the little research I’d managed, I knew that Julie Moore was in her late fifties, but she looked at least ten years younger. After greeting me with a limp handshake (not quite wet lettuce limp, but very close—just in case you’re keeping tabs), she led the way through to the garden room, which was twice the size of my house. It looked out onto a spectacular garden, which must have required a team of gardeners to maintain. I considered handing her one of Peter’s business cards, which I always kept in my handbag, but I figured it probably wasn’t an appropriate time to pitch his landscaping services.

  A butler brought us tea and scones.

  If I ever win the lottery, Jack and I will have a house and gardens just like this, complete with a butler named Sanders.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs Moore.”

  “Please call me Julie. I have to say I was quite surprised when your P.A. called. She said you’re working on a case which has similarities to my husband’s death?”

  “That’s right. My client is a Mrs Paula Green. Her husband died recently in rather unusual circumstances at Washbridge Leisure Centre. He dived from the high board into a pool that had been drained of water.”

  “Oh yes, I read about that in The Bugle. How horrible for his wife.”

  “Paula came to me because she doesn’t believe her husband would have taken his own life. It was in the course of my investigation that I came across an article concerning your husband’s death.”

  “I still can’t quite believe he’s gone. I keep expecting him to walk through the door.”

  “Had there been any warning signs?”

  “No, I would have noticed. Philip and I were blessed: We had everything we could have wanted—except maybe children. We tried, but it didn’t happen.”

  “What about his business? Was he having any problems there?”

  “No, none. I would have known. Philip always kept me up to date on everything that happened in the business. Only two days before he died, we’d been planning a round the world cruise. It’s something we’d talked about doing for years, and he’d finally committed to taking some time away from work so we could.”

  “Did you tell anyone about your doubts? That it was suicide, I mean?”

  “I told everyone who would listen, but no one wanted to know. It was obvious the police thought I was being hysterical.”

  “I know this will be painful for you, but would you be able to tell me what happened that day?”

  She took a minute to compose herself. “Philip had gone to London for a meeting.”

  “Was that unusual?”

  “Not really. He went there about once a month on average. He kissed me goodbye and said he’d see me that evening. The next thing I knew, was when the police came to my door later that afternoon.”

  “What did they tell you?”

  “At first, they said that he’d fallen onto the track. It was only later that they confirmed that it was suicide. Apparently, the CCTV cameras showed Philip jump in front of the train as it came into the platform.” At that, she lost her composure and began to weep.

  “I’m sorry to put you through this.”

  “It’s okay.” She sniffled. “I don’t mind.”

  “Did the police tell you
anything else?”

  “Not really. They just said that he’d been standing near the edge of the platform, talking on his phone, and then he’d jumped.”

  “Did you see the CCTV?”

  “I asked if I could. Just so I’d know it was true, but they wouldn’t allow me to see it.”

  “The phone? I don’t suppose that survived?”

  “Nothing did.”

  “Of course. Sorry. Would you be prepared to talk about your husband’s Will?”

  “What would you like to know exactly?”

  “Who were the main beneficiaries?”

  “Just me. Like I said, we don’t have any children. Oh, and the charities of course.”

  “Charities?”

  “Philip has always donated to charity. It was his way of giving back, he said. He left a not-insignificant amount of money, split between a number of different ones.”

  “Did you know he was going to do that? Before the Will was read, I mean?”

  “Yes, of course. We had no secrets.”

  “Do you happen to know the names of the charities who benefitted?”

  “Not offhand, why? Is that important?”

  “It might be.”

  “I could check, I suppose.”

  “If I give you my email address, would you drop me a note with their names?”

  “Sure.”

  ***

  There was something I’d been meaning to do for some time and now seemed as good a time as any. A quick flick through Candle Pages revealed that there were only two companies who handled billboard advertising.

  What do I want with billboard advertising, I hear you ask? Read on, and all will be revealed.

  The first company, Ben and Billboards, informed me that they only dealt with large corporate accounts. The second one was called Tree Billboards. The woman who answered the phone said they’d be more than happy to help, and that I was welcome to call around anytime to discuss my requirements. Eager to strike while the iron was hot, I asked if I could go straight over there. She said that was fine and that she’d have a cup of tea waiting for me.

  I liked these people already.

  True to her word, Hazel (according to her name badge) handed me a cup of tea as soon as I walked into reception.