Witch Is Where Squirrels Go Nuts (Witch P.I. Mystery Book 39) Read online

  “Hi.” He greeted me at the door. “Do come in, Jill. I was just about to have some lemon tea, if you’d care to join me.”

  “Not for me, thanks.”

  Once he’d finished his drink, we went through to the lounge area.

  “I’m really sorry for what happened to you, Sam.”

  “Thanks. It’s been very difficult. It’s not just my appearance, although goodness knows that’s bad enough. It’s also affected my career because I’m a model for horn accessories. I had three months’ work booked, but of course it’s all been cancelled. No one wants a unicorn without a horn.”

  “That must have cost you a lot of money.”

  “It did. I had hoped I might be able to make a claim against my insurance, but you know what those companies are like. They have a loophole for everything. They insist that my health cover doesn’t include the loss of a horn because, technically, I’m not unwell.”

  “When exactly was it stolen?”

  “Some time during the night. When I went to bed, everything was fine. I always clean my horn just before I retire. When I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I broke down and cried for over an hour, then I called the police. They told me there had been a spate of similar thefts.”

  “Was there any sign of a break-in?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Do you live here alone?”

  “Yes. My girlfriend used to live with me, but we split up about three months ago.”

  “Were there any bad feelings over the split?”

  “No. Judy and I are still the best of friends.”

  “Who else has access to the house?”

  “No one.”

  We talked a little longer, but it soon became clear that Sam was as much in the dark about what had happened as everyone else.

  Chapter 16

  I was on my way to speak to Elizabeth Wilson, the waitress who had been sacked from Tweaking Tea Rooms on the day that Miss Drinkwater had been murdered. I’d only been driving for a couple of minutes when the glove compartment opened, and Henry stuck his head out. The side of his face appeared to be a little swollen.

  “Are you alright, Henry?”

  “Just about, Jill. The dentist had to extract a tooth.”

  “It must have been very painful.”

  “It’s my own fault. I’ve not been flossing nearly enough.”

  “I met Henrietta while you were at the dentist.”

  “Yes, she told me. She said you were very nice.”

  “I have to say, Henry, your girlfriend has much better taste in music than you. The two of us listened to some soul classics.”

  “Not really my thing, I’m afraid. Henrietta and I like the same food, and the same books, but not the same music. Speaking of Henrietta, it’s her birthday tomorrow. I was wondering if you might have any suggestions as to what I could buy her?”

  “I can tell you what not to buy her. Don’t get her a jazz album.”

  “I won’t.” He grinned. “What about chocolates?”

  “You could, I suppose, but it’s rather impersonal. What kind of books does she like?”

  “Modern classics, mainly.”

  “There you are, then. Why don’t you get her a book?”

  “That’s a good idea. I might just do that.”

  “Where do you do your shopping? Do you have to go back to Candlefield?”

  “No. One of the main reasons I moved to the human world was so that I could order stuff online.” He took out his phone. “It’s so much more convenient. If I order it today, it’ll be delivered tomorrow.”

  “Where do you have your parcels delivered to? Not my car, surely?”

  “No, I rent a locker. Whenever I order stuff, I just pop over there and pick it up. Ouch.” He winced and held his jaw. “It’s still a bit sore.”

  “I shouldn’t go eating any humbugs if I were you.”

  ***

  Elizabeth Wilson lived in a flat, roughly halfway between Middle Tweaking and Washbridge. She greeted me at the door, wearing PJs.

  “Sorry about the pyjamas. I had a late night.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I need a coffee. Would you like one?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Once we had our drinks, we took a seat at the breakfast bar.

  “Marian told me that you were sacked on the day that Miss Drinkwater was murdered.”

  “That’s right.” She took a sip of coffee. “Although, I didn’t find out that she’d been murdered until the next day. I heard about it on the local news.”

  “Can you tell me what happened that day to get you the sack?”

  “It was my own fault. I’m much too mouthy. My mother has always said so. When I was at school, I was always getting in trouble for talking back to the teachers. I’m just not very good with authority figures, I guess. It’s not like I mind hard work. Marian will tell you that I always pulled my weight, but nothing was ever good enough for Miss Drinkwater. She would always find fault with something: My apron wasn’t on straight, or I was slouching, or I hadn’t taken an order quickly enough. In the end, I snapped.”

  “Do you remember what exactly happened that day to cause you to snap?”

  “Miss Drinkwater had told me to clear a table. There had been five people sitting at it, so there was a ton of pots and cutlery. I’d just taken them through to the kitchen when she tore a strip off me because I hadn’t wiped the table. I told her that I’d intended to go straight back out to do it. She said what if somebody came in and saw the table looking like that? That’s when I lost it. I said no one’s going to come into this place because you’ve scared them all away.”

  “Oh dear.” I grinned.

  “She told me to get out and never to come back. To tell you the truth, it came as a relief. I’d been thinking of resigning for some time, but it would have been better if I’d found another job first.”

  “Did anything else out of the ordinary happen that day?”

  “Not really. Miss Drinkwater was arguing with some of the customers, but that wasn’t particularly unusual.”

  “Do you remember who they were?”

  “Yeah. There was a couple having breakfast. It’s not like they were doing anything wrong; they were just laughing and talking. They might have been a bit loud, but nothing outrageous.”

  “Who else did she argue with?”

  “The vicar. That was a bit more unusual because he’s one of the few people she didn’t hate.”

  “Any idea what they were arguing about?”

  “No clue. She also had a blazing row outside with that woman who’s opened the hotel. Miss Drinkwater was fuming because the hotel is going to offer afternoon tea. I heard her call the woman an ugly old witch.”

  “That’s awful.” Even if it is accurate.

  “I know. At one point, I thought they were going to come to blows, but then someone stepped in and stopped them.”

  “That was me. Did anything else of note happen that day?”

  “Apart from me getting sacked, you mean? Not really.”

  ***

  When I arrived home from work, there was no sign of Florence, which was rather unusual. Normally, as soon as I walked through the door, she came running to greet me.

  Jack came out of the kitchen.

  “Where is she?” I said.

  He gestured towards the lounge and said in a hushed voice, “She’s had her nose in that spell book ever since she got back from school.”

  “Oh dear. Has she actually been casting any spells?”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “How can I be sure? If Florence has learnt the ‘forget’ spell, and she’s used it on me, I wouldn’t remember what she’s been up to, would I?”

  Oh bum! I hadn’t even considered that.

  “I doubt she’ll have learnt that because it’s very complicated.”

  “You said that about the ‘invisible’ spell. And what a
bout the spell she used to turn that young boy into a snake? Wasn’t that complicated too?”

  “I’d better check on her.” I went through to the lounge where Florence was still studying the spell book. “Hello, darling.”

  “Mummy.” She jumped up from the sofa. “I didn’t know you were home.” She came over and gave me a big hug.

  “I see you’re still reading the spell book.”

  “Yes, I’ve learnt lots of spells already.”

  “Have you? That’s—err—great.”

  Aunt Lucy’s advice was beginning to look more and more suspect with every passing minute.

  “Is dinner ready yet, Mummy?”

  “Not yet, darling. It’ll be another hour at least.”

  “Good, I can learn more spells.” She jumped on the sofa and went back to her book.

  Back in the kitchen, Jack was seated at the table. Spread all over it, were hundreds of stamps.

  “What are all those?” I laughed.

  “It’s the starter kit that Oscar brought over for me. He said I have to sort through these and put them into different categories, according to subject matter or country. He’s going to come back later in the week, to help me arrange them in my stamp album.”

  “That’s hilarious.”

  “It’s not funny, Jill. I couldn’t care less about stupid stamps, and I certainly don’t want to collect them.”

  “Do you know your problem, Jack?”

  “No, but I suspect you’re going to tell me.”

  “You need to be more assertive. When Oscar brought you the starter kit, you should have told him that you had no interest in stamps. Then you wouldn’t have been in this position.”

  “How could I do that? He would have been offended.”

  “Better to offend someone than to saddle yourself with this lot forever.”

  Just then, there was a knock at the door.

  “Hello, Jill.”

  “Mr Ivers. What a surprise. How did you know where I live?”

  “After I saw you at the hotel the other day, I asked your grandmother. She told me you lived in the old watermill.”

  “That was good of her. Actually, we were just about to have our dinner.”

  “That’s okay. I won’t take up more than a minute of your time. I have something for you.” He opened his bag and took out a pile of movie newsletters, which he handed to me. “When you moved house, you forgot to give me your forwarding address, so I wasn’t able to send these to you. I knew you wouldn’t want to miss out, so I kept hold of them on the off chance that we’d bump into each other again.”

  “That’s—err—fantastic. Thanks.”

  “You don’t need to pay me right now if you’re about to eat. You can give me the money later in the week.”

  “I thought you would have cancelled my subscription when I moved.”

  “Why would I do that? You would have missed out on all of these. And, of course, I’ll make sure you get all the new issues from now on.”

  “Great.”

  “I’d better go, Jill. I’m due back at the hotel.”

  “Right. Okay. Thanks.”

  I closed the door and turned around to find Jack grinning at me.

  “You really must learn to be more assertive, Jill.”

  “What could I do? He’d saved them for me.”

  “Better to offend someone than to saddle yourself with that lot.”

  Before I could respond with a clever rejoinder, my phone rang.

  “Yes? What is it?” I snapped.

  “Charming,” Kathy said. “Here I am trying to help you, and you bite my head off.”

  “Sorry, Kathy, it’s Jack. He’s being a smarty-pants, as usual.”

  “I’ve just been contacted by someone about the booking I made with Double Take.”

  “Already? That was quick. Who was it? What did they say?”

  “His name, if you can believe it, is Boris Charming. He says that his lookalike agency, Charming Lookalikes, can provide any lookalike at half of Double Take’s prices.”

  “Did you ask him how he knew you were in the market for a lookalike?”

  “That was one of the first questions I asked him, but he never really gave me an answer. He just kept pressing me to change my booking over to his agency.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I needed to think about it, but he was very pushy. He asked if he could come and see me tomorrow.”

  “I hope you said yes.”

  “Of course I did. He’s coming over at two o’clock.”

  “That’s brilliant. Which shop is he going to?”

  “The new one. I said I’d meet him there.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there by one-thirty, and we’ll see what Mr Boris Charming has to say for himself.”

  ***

  Florence had gone to bed, and Jack was so engrossed in one of his favourite TV programmes that he didn’t notice me sneak out to the car. I didn’t want him to see me as a cat, dressed in a pirate costume; I would never live it down. I took the costume out of the car boot, crept back into the house, and hurried upstairs to our bedroom.

  After placing the pirate costume on the bed, I took off my clothes, and then turned myself into a cat. Getting into the costume was a real struggle, but I eventually managed it. Now, all I needed to do was take a photo of myself, but like an idiot, I’d left my phone in my trouser pocket. I was just about to jump on the bed to retrieve it when Jack walked into the bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Jill!” he shouted. “There’s a cat in our bedroom, and it’s dressed as a pirate.”

  I had no choice but to reverse the spell. As I did, I ripped the costume in several places.

  Jack did another double take. “What’s going on? Why are you naked?” He looked around. “And where’s that cat gone? It was dressed as a pirate.”

  “That was me.”

  “What was you?”

  “The cat. I turned myself into one.”

  “Why? And what’s with the pirate costume?”

  “I promised Winky that I’d enter a contest with him.”

  “What kind of contest?”

  “It’s a long story. Let me get dressed, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Chapter 17

  Jack and I were enjoying a fry-up for breakfast. Florence had opted for a boiled egg with toast soldiers. Every so often, for no apparent reason, Jack kept chuckling to himself.

  “What’s tickling you?” I said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on. Share the joke.”

  “I was just thinking about cats dressed as pirates.”

  “That’s silly, Daddy.” Florence laughed. “Cats can’t dress as pirates.”

  “Yes, that’s silly, Daddy.” I shot him a look.

  “And you said I wasn’t assertive enough.” Jack laughed again. “At least I don’t get ordered around by my cat.”

  “Eat your breakfast.”

  I’d just taken a bite of sausage when I noticed that Florence seemed to have zoned out. I was about to ask her what the matter was when I realised that she was about to cast a spell. Before I could say anything, she had disappeared. Jack dropped his fork and stared at the toast soldier as it dipped itself into the egg.

  “Florence!” I said.

  “Yes, Mummy?” The voice came from the direction of her chair.

  “We do not turn ourselves invisible while we’re eating breakfast, do we?”

  “Sorry, Mummy.” She reversed the spell and reappeared. “I like being invisible. It’s fun.”

  “I know it is, but you mustn’t do it while we’re eating a meal. You nearly made Daddy choke on his sausage.”

  “Sorry.” She giggled. “Don’t you wish you were a sup, Daddy?”

  “I’ve never really given it any thought.”

  “It’s lots of fun because we can do magic. I can make myself invisible, I can make plants grow and I can do lots of other things.”

  “I
t does sound like fun.” Jack put his knife and fork down on the empty plate. “Mmm, I could eat that again.”

  He’d no sooner said the words than his fry-up reappeared. He stared at it in disbelief, but I was looking at Florence.

  “Did you just use the ‘take it back’ spell, Florence?”

  “Yes. Daddy said he could eat his breakfast again, so I brought it back for him.”

  “You can’t keep using magic spells willy-nilly. That spell is for when you break something, and you want to mend it.”

  Apparently unconcerned by this turn of events, Jack was already tucking into his sausages again.

  After breakfast, Florence went out into the garden to play with Buddy.

  “By the way, Jack, you’ve not forgotten we’re going for dinner with Mad and Brad tonight, have you?”

  “Of course not. I spoke to the babysitter yesterday to confirm she’s still available. She’s coming around at seven-thirty. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. Mad said they’d be here by seven, so that’ll give them time to meet Florence before Sarah arrives.”

  ***

  According to Marian and Elizabeth, the two waitresses from Tweaking Tea Rooms, Miss Drinkwater had been arguing with the vicar on the day she was murdered. Both of them had expressed their surprise at this turn of events because the vicar was one of very few people that Miss Drinkwater had got along with.

  Although I’d walked past the rectory several times, this would be my first visit. The property was beautiful, and one of the largest houses in Middle Tweaking. I was just about to knock on the door when someone shouted.

  “Hello there.”

  I turned around, expecting to see the vicar, but instead I was confronted by a man dressed in wellingtons, baggy trousers and an even baggier jumper. Wearing a straw hat that had seen better days, the man had ruddy cheeks and a huge smile.

  “Are you here to see the vicar?” he said.

  “Yes, I am. Is he in, do you know?”

  “I believe so. I’m Wilberforce, the gardener.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr Wilberforce. I’m Jill Maxwell.”