Witch Is How To Fool Cats Page 3
“A caramel latte to go, please.”
While he was making my drink, the squeaking noises continued all around the shop.
“One caramel latte. Anything to eat with that?”
“No, thanks. What’s with all the squeaking?”
“It’s today’s game: Squeak, Piggy, Squeak.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a bit like blind man’s buff but with squeaky pigs and pillows.”
Back on the High Street, I’d just taken a sip of coffee when Deli appeared in the doorway of Nailed-It.
“Yoohoo, Jill!”
I gave her a little wave in the hope that I’d be able to escape, but no such luck because she beckoned me to go over and join her.
“Hi, Deli. Shouldn’t you be getting ready to open the shop?”
“Nails has got it all in hand. I thought we might have seen you in the shop before now?”
“Me?”
“For a beauty audit. You still have those vouchers I gave you, don’t you?”
“Yes, in fact I gave one to Jules and Mrs V yesterday.”
“What about your own beauty audit, Jill?”
“I’m too busy.”
“Rubbish. You should never be too busy when it comes to beauty treatment.” She took my hand. “Come on.”
“I really can’t do it now. I have a client coming in a few minutes.”
“That’s fine. I’ll make you a booking for later in the week.”
***
“Morning, Jill.” Mrs V was crocheting. “The man’s been to repair the roof.”
“Already? He must have made an early start.”
“He’d just finished when I arrived. I told him I hoped this would be the last time we’d need to call him out.”
“I don’t think you need have any worries on that score, Mrs V.” I checked my watch. “When is my first appointment?”
“Mr Price should be here in about fifteen minutes.”
“Good. That just gives me time to—err—nip to the loo.”
“Okay, dear.”
I didn’t think I should worry Mrs V by telling her I was going up onto the roof again.
“Ron! Are you there?”
“I’m here.” The gargoyle appeared over the apex of the roof, and then slid down to join me. “I was hiding from the repair man. Generally speaking, humans aren’t big fans of gargoyles.”
“I have something for you.” I passed him the bag of sugar mice.
“Excellent! And so many different flavours.”
“There are fourteen in there, so that should cover the next two weeks. Agreed?”
“Agreed. You need have no more concerns about the slate vultures. I’ll see to it that they don’t do any more damage.”
“Great, thanks.”
“What happened to your hair, Jill?” Mrs V gave me a quizzical look.
“I—err—it’s that hand dryer. Someone had swivelled the blower-head around, and I didn’t notice until it was too late. By the way, I should have asked, how did the move go?”
“Remarkably well, but then Armi did pay for the premium service. The removal men did all the packing and unpacking. All we had to do was to tell them where to put everything.”
“So I take it that you’re in the new house?”
“We are indeed. As soon as we’re settled, you and Jack must come over for dinner. Provided the food doesn’t keep disappearing that is.”
“What do you mean, disappearing?”
“It’s probably because I’m still trying to get used to where everything is, but I keep losing things. Take last night, I was sure I had some ginger biscuits in the cupboard, but when I made us a cup of tea, I couldn’t find them anywhere.”
***
My new client, a friend of Charlie’s, was a werewolf. Like most werewolves I knew, Sebastian Price was a giant of a man, but like Charlie, he was softly spoken and quite shy.
“Charlie said you run a singing telegram service, Sebastian.”
“That’s right, and it’s Seb. I probably should make it clear that I don’t actually do the singing myself. I own the business, and I employ people to do that—I call them the grams. I opened shop here in Washbridge about three months ago.”
“Still relatively new, then?”
“Yes, and I’m already beginning to wonder whether it was a mistake.”
“Charlie said something about sabotage?”
“I think that’s what’s happening, but I can’t be one-hundred percent sure.”
“Why don’t you start by telling me a little bit about your business?”
“Okay. How familiar are you with singing telegrams?”
“I’ve heard of them, obviously, and I’ve seen them on TV, but I’ve never seen one in real life, so to speak.”
“It’s all fairly simple. A client pays for one of my grams to turn up at a location of their choosing: typically someone’s house or place of work. They also get to choose which kind of singing telegram they want. The business is called Paragrams because we offer a range of paranormal themed grams.”
“Are the people who work for you sups or humans?”
“I only employ sups.”
“Does that mean if someone orders a vampire-gram that they actually get a real-life vampire?”
“That’s right. One of our main selling points is that our grams are the most realistic in the business.”
“I don’t doubt that. Do you offer werewolf-grams?”
“Of course. They’re one of our most popular.”
“How does that work? Surely they don’t actually turn up in werewolf form, do they?”
“Actually, they do.”
“Isn’t that dangerous? What if they lose control and attack someone?”
“It would be for most werewolves, but there are a small number of them who have much higher levels of self-control. They’re able to shift at will, and they’re also able to retain control while in wolf form. These guys are in big demand and because of that, they earn much more than the other sups on my books.”
“What other kind of grams do you offer?”
“Pretty much every type of sup you can imagine.”
“What about witches?”
“The occasional one, but to be honest there isn’t a lot of demand. Humans seem to find them boring.”
Huh? I found that a little surprising, but then I guess not all witches have an engaging personality like mine.
“What exactly has been happening to make you think someone is sabotaging the business?”
“Everything seemed to be going fine for the first couple of months, but then we started to get complaints: Grams turning up late, grams being rude, that kind of thing.”
“Couldn’t it just be that some of your staff have become complacent?”
“No. All of the people I employ are highly motivated and take great pride in their work. Every time I’ve received a complaint, I’ve talked to the gram in question, and in every case, they’ve been stunned because nothing had been said to them at the time. In fact, they all insist the customer had been more than happy with the service provided.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Tell me about it. It’s driving me insane. I’ve never encountered problems like this at my other branch.”
“You have more than one?”
“Yeah. The original office is in Candlefield. That’s been running for over five years now. A number of the grams who used to be employed there now work in Washbridge.”
“What kind of singing telegrams do you offer in Candlefield? Human-grams?”
“No.” He laughed. “The Candlefield business is called CrazyGrams. We do things like funny policemen.”
“I’m married to one of those.”
“Sorry?”
“Never mind. What about the competition? Who are your main rivals here in Washbridge?”
“There aren’t any really. There are a couple of small singing telegram companies, but neither of them offers
paranormal creatures. Their grams are more like those provided by our Candlefield branch.”
“Okay. I’d like to make a start by speaking to one of your most trusted employees. Someone who has been on the wrong end of the complaints you mentioned. I want to hear his or her version of events. Do you think that can be arranged?”
“Sure. I’ll ask Stuart to come and see you. He’s my number one gram.”
***
When I got back to my office, there were strange noises coming from behind the screen. That could mean only one thing: Winky was up to no good.
“Are you printing greeting cards again? What celebration day have you dreamed up this time?” I walked around the screen. “Oh? That’s not a printing press.”
“Once again, your powers of observation astound me.” Winky removed his protective goggles.
“What is that machine and what’s in all those bottles?” I picked one up. “CatFizz?”
“Don’t touch the merchandise.” He slapped my hand.
“What is it?”
“This is the UK’s premier feline energy drink.”
“Since when?”
“Since today. This is the first batch.”
“What’s in it?”
“Do you really expect me to give away my secret recipe?” He scoffed.
“No one is going to buy that stuff.”
“Don’t you get fed up of being wrong? I already have a number of distributors lined up. They’re all chomping at the bit, waiting to get hold of this, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get back to work.”
I was just about to leave the office, to pay a visit to Paula Green’s house, when I had an unexpected (and unwelcome) visitor.
“Grandma, how lovely to see you. This is a pleasant surprise.”
“You should think twice before you tell lies like that, young lady. My ‘Pinocchio’ spell would take some reversing, even for you.”
“I was just about to go out on a case. What can I do for you?”
“I want to talk to you about your brother.”
“Martin? What about him? He hasn’t changed his mind about meeting me, has he?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“You had me worried there.”
“I’m not sure why you’re so giddy about meeting him.”
“Why wouldn’t I be excited to meet my big brother?”
“Because you know next to nothing about him. None of us do. The only thing we know for sure is that he was raised by one of the evilest men the sup world has ever known.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Martin isn’t Braxmore.”
“I’m just urging caution, that’s all. He has to prove he’s worthy of our trust.”
“Okay, understood, but I really do have to get going.”
“Hold your horses. Aren’t you going to ask how my synchronised broom flying troupe is doing?”
“I—err—”
“I’m glad you asked because they’ve come on in leaps and bounds.”
“That’s great, but I really am—”
“So much so, in fact, that they’ll be putting on their first display soon. And don’t worry, I’ve already put your name down for tickets.”
“But I—”
“It’s alright. You can pay me closer to the date.”
“I really do have to go now, Grandma.”
“Okay, but sometime soon, you and I need to have a discussion about compensation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The compensation you owe me for the damage you inflicted on Ever Beauty by getting one of my key members of staff arrested.”
“The siren, you mean? That serves you right.”
“Business is fifty percent below projections because of your do-gooder intervention.”
“I’m sure you’ll bounce back. You always do.”
Chapter 4
Paula Green had told me her husband had been a successful businessman, and her house certainly reflected that. It was the first time I’d visited Long Chips, a small village five miles from West Chipping. You would have struggled to find a house worth less than one million in that village, and most of them were worth substantially more.
I pulled up at the huge black metal gates, lowered the side-window and spoke into the intercom.
“Jill Maxwell to see Mrs Green.”
Moments later, the gates opened, and I drove up the long driveway and parked in front of the house, next to a top of the range Lexus.
The woman who answered the door introduced herself as Mrs Truman, the housekeeper. She took me through to the garden room at the rear of the property where Paula Green, who was wearing a floral dress and sandals, seemed much more relaxed than when she’d visited my offices.
“Mrs Truman, bring some drinks through, would you? Would you prefer tea or coffee, Jill?”
“Tea, please. Milk and one and two-thirds spoonfuls of sugar, please.”
Mrs Truman, who seemed totally unfazed by my sugar requirements, slid away to see to the drinks.
“You have a lovely house, Paula.”
“Thanks. We’ve been very lucky. John’s business was successful beyond our wildest dreams.”
“Do you have children?”
“No, we were always too busy. We have the dogs, Lottie and Dottie, of course. I thought it best to leave them in the kitchen because they tend to get over-excited whenever we have visitors.”
The two of us continued to make small talk while we waited for Mrs Truman to bring the drinks.
“Thank you, Mrs Truman.” Paula took the tray of tea, cake and biscuits from the housekeeper. “That will be all for now.”
“Very well, madam.”
“Help yourself to cake, Jill.”
“Thank you.” I was spoiled for choice, but eventually settled on a slice of lemon drizzle. “Do you feel up to answering a few more questions today, Paula?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You said that your husband went swimming regularly. Did he always go alone?”
“Not always. He sometimes went with a friend of his, Mike Morley. They golfed together too. In fact, Mike was with him on the day he—” Her words trailed away, and she took a deep breath before continuing. “I thought I’d mentioned that yesterday?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. My head is all over the place, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay. Do you happen to know where Mike was when your husband died?”
“He was in the main pool. Apparently, John had stayed behind in the changing room, to take a phone call. The next thing Mike knew was when they evacuated the centre. Even then, he didn’t find out exactly what had happened until much later. When he couldn’t find John, he just assumed he’d decided to make his own way home. From what I hear, he was in quite a state when he discovered the truth.”
“Do you think Mike would speak to me?”
“I’m sure he will. I’ll let you have his contact details before you leave.”
“This is rather delicate, but I do have to ask. Besides you, who benefits under the terms of your husband’s Will?”
“It’s just me. And the charities of course. John and I both regularly give to our own favourite charities. And we’d both included them in our Wills.”
“You said charities. There was more than one?”
“Oh yes. Several. In fact, John had updated his Will only a few weeks ago.”
“In respect of the charities?”
“That’s right.”
“Was that an unusual thing for him to do?”
“Not at all. He updated the list about once a year. I do the same for that matter.”
“And you’re sure that’s the only change he made to his Will? Could he have added any other beneficiaries?”
“No. We both named each other as executor, so I worked alongside the solicitor to execute the Will.”
“I’d like to view it if I may?”
“Of course, but I’m not sure it will
tell you much.”
“Still, I’d like to see it.”
“I don’t have a copy here, but I’m sure I’ll be able to arrange for you to see it at the solicitor’s office, although they’ll probably insist that I’m present.”
“Would you do that, please? I just have one more question: Do you happen to know the name of the man who recorded the video?”
“I do. He’s called Boris Newman, but I’m afraid I don’t have an address for him.”
“No problem. I’ll find it.”
***
Unbelievably, when I arrived home, Jack was still in the spare bedroom, playing with his toy train set. At least he’d changed out of his pyjamas.
“Have you been in here all day?”
“Of course not. I had a shower and got dressed.”
“What about lunch?”
“I’ll have it in a minute.”
“It’s four-thirty.”
“What? Is it?” He stared at his watch in disbelief. “I must have lost track of time.” He laughed. “Track of time? Get it?”
“Hmm. Hilarious.”
“I’ll order in pizza for dinner. What toppings do you fancy?”
“I don’t want anything. I’m having dinner with my brother. Had you forgotten?”
“I had, yes. Are you looking forward to it a little more now?”
“Kind of, but I did have a visit from Grandma earlier. She doesn’t think we should trust Martin.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s spent his whole life with Braxmore.”
“What do you think?”
“I plan on giving him the benefit of the doubt.” And hoping that I don’t live to regret it.
***
I was in the bedroom, trying to decide which dress to wear.
“How many different outfits are you going to try on?” Jack took a bite of pizza.
“You’d better not drop any of that on this carpet. You should be eating that in the kitchen.”
“I thought you might want my opinion on what to wear.”
“Why on earth would I ask your opinion? I could walk around in a sack, and half the time you wouldn’t notice.”
“That’s not true.”
“Okay. What did I have on when I came home from work today?”