Witch Is When Everything Went Crazy Page 16

  “If he hadn’t gone around to see her, she might still be alive.”

  “Again, that’s true, but what would we charge him with?”

  “So he just walks free?”

  “It looks that way, but my guess is he’ll punish himself for the rest of his life. He knows he was at least partially to blame. I doubt he’ll practise medicine again—he’ll probably retire.”

  “What about the car?”

  “We’re still looking for it. I’m not sure if we’ll ever find it.”

  “Okay, well thanks for letting me know. I’ll update Colonel Briggs.”

  “I don’t suppose you fancy a drink tonight?” Maxwell said, as he stood up to leave.

  “I can’t, I’m sorry.” Damn that speed dating. “Maybe another time?”

  “Sure.”

  “Maxwell just asked me out,” I said to Winky after he’d had left.

  “Do I look like I care? Don’t forget you promised to buy me a chocolate chip muffin. Make that double chocolate.”

  The teacher on the gate checked my ID as I entered the playground—Kathy had notified them that I’d be collecting the kids. Security was tighter there than at the local police station.

  I think I’d rather face an armed robber than have to do the school run regularly. Those mothers were all crazy. Different factions seemed to occupy separate areas of the school yard. I was standing all alone, attracting suspicious glances from all sides. I smiled and said ‘hello’ to a couple of the women as they walked by. Neither smiled back. Neither spoke. How did Kathy cope?

  A bell rang, and the kids came running out.

  “Auntie Jill!” Mikey screamed.

  “Auntie Jill!” Lizzie threw her arms around me.

  “Hi guys. How was school?”

  “I made a skelington,” Lizzie said. “They only have bones. No skin.”

  “It’s skeleton,” Mikey said.

  “That’s what I said, silly.”

  “What about you, Mikey? What did you do?” I said.

  “We did clouds and rain.”

  “Was it interesting?”

  “Not really. I like cars better.”

  The kids insisted that they always had a bar of chocolate and a bottle of pop when they got home from school. I went along with it even though I suspected I was being played. When she got back from the dentist, Kathy would probably kill me for letting them have so much sugar.

  “I see you still have the bion,” I said. The frankensteinesque beanie that Kathy had made for Lizzie gave me the creeps. Why ruin two perfectly good beanies to create that monstrosity? And what were you supposed to catalogue it under? Bear? Lion? Freak-show?

  “Mum’s going to make me a giraphant soon.”

  “Giraphant? Let me guess—”

  “It’s a giraffe’s head and neck on an elephant’s body.”

  “Nice.” What was wrong with this family? My poor little beanies.

  “Beanies are stupid!” Mikey said matter-of-factly.

  “They’re better than stupid cars,” Lizzie countered.

  This was beginning to feel like a day out with the twins.

  “Beanies and cars are both nice.” I played the diplomacy card. I knew how to handle kids.

  “Cars smell!”

  “Do not!”

  “Do so!”

  “Beanies smell more!”

  “Do not!”

  “Do too!”

  Scrub that. I was clueless when it came to kids.

  I had hoped the three of us might play a game together, but it quickly became apparent that there was no common ground between the two kids. Instead, I split my time between the two of them. The first half hour I spent with Mikey, when I endured cars crashing against my feet and ankles. That was fun!

  As a kid, I’d never had a dolls’ house of my own—I’d had to share one with Kathy. You can imagine how that went. Lizzie’s dolls’ house was beautiful.

  “Can we play outside?” Lizzie said.

  “Does Mummy let you take the dolls’ house into the garden?”

  “Oh yes. Can we?”

  It was a beautiful day, so why not? I lifted the dolls’ house carefully—I didn’t want a repeat performance of the Lego hotel affair. Mikey joined us in the garden, but gave us and the dolls’ house a wide berth. He occupied himself with throwing stones at his action figures.

  Lizzie had accumulated an incredible collection of furniture for her dolls’ house, but I was disappointed to see that she shared her mother’s bad taste in home furnishings. Lizzie was obviously very proud of it, and insisted on talking me through each and every item of furniture. Being the good auntie that I was, I did my best to stay awake.

  “This is my new one.” Lizzie handed me a tiny kettle. “It’s blue. It’s my favourite.”

  She was just like her mother. Kathy loved buying new stuff—anything, as long as it was new.

  “Kids!” Kathy shouted. She’d arrived home just in time. Another five minutes, and I’d have been comatose with boredom. Mikey and Lizzie sprinted into the house. My legs had gone dead, so I struggled to my feet.

  It was like it happened in slow motion. The tiny kettle slipped from my hand and bounced once, then twice and then a third time, before disappearing into the grate.

  No! This couldn’t be happening!

  The good news was that it had landed on a small ledge just above the water line. The bad news was that it was too far down for me to reach with my fingers.

  I had to focus. On the last occasion I’d used the ‘shrink’ spell, my clothes hadn’t shrunk with me, and I’d ended up naked. When I’d discussed this with my mum, she’d said I needed to focus more on the desired outcome. I cast the spell, and to my relief, it worked just as I’d intended. This time my clothes had shrunk along with me.

  It was an awful long way down to the ledge, but there were lots of weeds to grab hold of. All I had to do was—aaaaghh!

  I managed to grab the stalk just in time. Phew, that was a close call—I’d almost ended up in the water. I clasped the weed with both my arms and legs, and slid slowly down until my feet touched the ledge.

  “Jill?” Kathy’s voice echoed around the chamber. “Jill? Where’s Auntie Jill, kids?”

  “She was here,” Lizzie said.

  “Maybe she’s gone to the loo.”

  I waited until the voices had disappeared, before climbing back up the weed. It wasn’t easy because I was holding onto the kettle at the same time.

  I was lying on the ground, exhausted, when I saw the bird swooping down towards me. I was about to become his dinner. I reversed the spell just in time, scaring the poor bird to death.

  “Jill? We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Kathy said. “Where have you been?”

  “I just nipped to my car. How did it go at the dentist?”

  Kathy stared at me—she sensed something was amiss.

  “I was admiring Lizzie’s kettle.” I held it up. “She has the same bad taste as you.”

  Chapter 23

  I blamed Mr Ivers. If it hadn’t been for his inexplicable transformation into ‘Ivy’ I would have been having a drink with Jack Maxwell. Would that have been our first, second or third date? The raffle prize probably didn’t count, and the bowling had been no more than a ruse to humiliate me. So maybe it would have been our first ever proper date.

  I’d had to turn down his offer of drinks because speed dating only took place on one night each week, and I’d already booked my place—under a false name, obviously. Lottie Levine—I thought the name suited me.

  Who knew speed dating would be so popular? The ballroom of the Regent Hotel was full of small tables. The women were already seated; I’d been allocated table thirty six, which was near to the cloakroom. At the far end of the room was a small posse of men. I felt strangely nervous.

  A bell rang, and the men hurried like mice through a maze until they found their first ‘date’.

  “Hello, I’m Walter,” Walter said. That’s all he
said. Either he was the most nervous person on the planet or he really didn’t like me. I tried a few times to start a conversation, but I only managed to extract two smiles and one raised eyebrow.

  “Bye,” he said when the bell rang again.

  “Hi, sexy. I’m the man you’ve been waiting for all of your life,” the next man said.

  Come back Walter. All is forgiven.

  Leo talked a good game, but I had my suspicions that if any woman actually responded to his ludicrous lines, he’d probably run a mile. I didn’t test my hypothesis, just in case I was wrong.

  The bell rang.

  “I like trains.”

  “Really?”

  “My name is Timothy. Do you like trains?”

  Who knew five minutes could last so long?

  The bell rang.

  “Lottie? It suits you.”

  “Jack?”

  “Arnold, please.” Jack Maxwell pointed to his name badge.

  “Arnold?” I laughed. “Do me a favour.”

  “It’s not as bad as Lottie. Where did you come up with that?”

  I shrugged.

  “So,” he said. “This is why you wouldn’t come out for drinks?”

  “I’m here on a case.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “It’s true. Anyhow, what about you?”

  “Same.”

  “You’re a liar.” I adjusted my name badge. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “You should know the answer to that by now.”

  “Because you’re a detective.”

  “Correct. So, what do you think? Are we a match?”

  “You’re better than some I’ve met tonight.”

  “High praise indeed,” he said. “So how about we arrange to do something another night?”

  “I could whup your ass at bowling again. That was fun.”

  “No thanks. How about the movies?”

  “Not my thing, but I know a guy who’d be happy to accompany you.”

  “A skating rink just opened on the Peveril Leisure Park. Can you skate?”

  “Me?” I laughed. “You must be kidding.”

  “Me neither. It might be fun, and then a drink afterwards. How about the day after tomorrow?”

  The bell rang.

  “Sure. Why not.”

  The second thing I noticed about Charlie was the annoying way he played continuously with a small silver coin. The first thing was his dayglow top. He was no looker, but you wouldn’t lose him in the dark.

  “How about we hook up afterwards?” He certainly didn’t lack confidence.

  The coin dropped onto the table and I grabbed it.

  “Give that back to me, please.” Confident Charlie had suddenly disappeared. In his place was nervous, unsure of himself Charlie, who looked like he might burst into tears.

  When I studied it more closely, I realised it wasn’t a coin at all. I’d seen trinkets like that before on a market stall in Candlefield.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Tell me where you got it or I’ll be forced to break your fingers.”

  Do I know how to sweet talk a guy or what?

  Nervous Charlie was too shocked to argue. He gave me all the information I needed, and then scurried away as soon as the bell rang.

  “Hi, I’m Cedric.”

  “Goodbye, Cedric.”

  Mrs V was snoring like a trooper when I walked into the office—her head resting on the desk. She had obviously been knitting into the early hours of the morning. The woman was determined to bankrupt me. My only consolation was that Maxwell was going to have to match me pound for pound. We could declare bankruptcy together—how romantic.

  “Morning, Mrs V,” I shouted.

  “What? Who? Where am I?” She replaced her glasses which had slid onto the desk. “Jill? I must have fallen asleep.”

  “Why didn’t you go home?”

  “I can sleep when I—”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I was going to say, when I’ve finished the scarf-a-thon. What time is it, anyway?”

  “A little after nine.”

  “Time’s up then. I’d better take this—hold on—where is it?”

  “Where’s what?”

  “The scarf, of course.”

  I shrugged.

  “It was here before I fell asleep. Someone must have stolen it.”

  And I knew who.

  I rushed into my office. The scarf was tied to one leg of my desk. From there it stretched to, and out of, the open window. Just as I suspected.

  “What are you doing?” I called down to Winky who was swinging on the other end of the scarf.

  “What does it look like?”

  “It looks like you’re stuck.”

  “This stupid thing isn’t long enough.”

  “Good thing too. It’s already going to cost me a small fortune.”

  “Your financial travails are all very interesting,” Winky said, “but in case it has escaped your notice, I’m in mortal danger. Call the rescue services. Quickly!”

  That conversation would go well.

  ‘A cat you say? Hanging from a scarf, you say?’

  I legged it downstairs.

  “Let go, and I’ll catch you,” I shouted up to Winky.

  “How do I know you won’t drop me?”

  “You’re going to have to trust me.”

  “Why don’t you lie down on the floor, and I can fall onto your body?”

  “I’m going to count to five then you jump. If you don’t, I leave you there.”

  “Are you any good at catch?”

  “Five.”

  “There’s still time to call the rescue services.”

  “Four.”

  “If I die, I’ll haunt you.”

  “Three.”

  Who knew a cat could weigh so much. It was just as well I’d cast the ‘power’ spell before he’d let go of the scarf.

  I kept a tight grip on Winky, in case he tried to make a break for it. Overhead, I could see Mrs V pulling the scarf back through the window.

  “She’s going to kill you,” I said, as I walked back up the stairs.

  “Let her try. I’ll use my kung fu moves on her.”

  “Since when did you know kung fu?”

  “I’ve been taking a correspondence course.”

  Of course. I should have known.

  “He didn’t mean any harm,” I said to Mrs V.

  “Cats will be cats.” She smiled.

  Winky and I exchanged looks. ‘Cats will be cats?’

  “Quick,” he whispered. “Take me next door before she changes her mind.”

  I did as he asked, then went back to check on Mrs V. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Winky? The scarf?” I’d lost the ability to string together even a simple sentence.

  “He did me a favour. The scarf is a foot longer now. More money for a good cause.”

  Yay!

  ‘Harry Tinsel’s Magic Shop’ was on a small back street, just off the high street in Washbridge. The window was stacked high with all manner of cheap magic tricks: marked cards, magic rope, magic cup and ball. Mikey would have loved it.

  A bell sounded on the door as I entered. The interior was even smaller than it appeared from outside.

  “Good morning, madam.” The man behind the counter had more hair on his chin than on the top of his head. I could sense he was a wizard.

  “Good morning.”

  “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for today?”

  “It’s a little embarrassing.” I looked around as though there might be someone lurking nearby.

  “I see.” He clearly didn’t.

  “I’m having difficulty—” Another look around—just for effect. “Getting a date.”

  I had hoped he might look a little more surprised that I couldn’t get a date.


  “I’m very sorry to hear that, but I’m not sure how I can help. Maybe a dating agency?”

  “Good idea. Perhaps I should try speed dating. I believe some of your customers do.”

  His expression changed. He knew the game was up.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he stuttered.

  “I think you do. Maybe I should call someone to jog your memory. A Rogue Retriever?”

  “No! Please, don’t do that! Please, I’m begging you!” Tears ran down his cheeks as he continued to plead with me.

  “How many Stor-a-Spells have you sold?” I said.

  “Three.”

  I glared at him.

  “Five then, certainly no more than eight. Ten at the most.”

  “What spell did you use?”

  “‘Attract’. I only did it as a favour the first time. One of my regular clients told me that he’d never had a date in his life. I felt sorry for him.”

  The spell had made the holder attractive to all members of the opposite sex. That in turn had given him a self-confidence he’d never known before.

  “To the tune of?”

  He looked puzzled.

  “How much did you charge your friend?”

  “Fifty pounds.”

  “Very generous. And the others? How did they find you?”

  “Word of mouth. Other men saw the results, and asked what had caused the change in him.”

  “And how much did you charge the others?”

  “A hundred pounds each.”

  “A nice little earner then?”

  “Business has been quiet.”

  “Have you heard of Daze?”

  “Please don’t call her. Please! I’m too old to go to prison.”

  Call me a big, old softy, but I genuinely felt sorry for the guy. Sure, he’d been making money, but he’d also given a few men the confidence they needed to get a date. Even so, enough was enough.

  “I won’t call Daze if you promise that you won’t sell any more Stor-a-Spells.”

  “I promise.”

  “And, you reverse the spells on all the ones you’ve already sold.”

  “But they’ll stop working.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “They’ll want their money back.”