Witch Is When Everything Went Crazy Read online

  “A few days before she died.” Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke.

  “Did she say anything about the Will then?”

  “No. We talked about her garden mainly. She was very proud of it.”

  “How was she? Health wise?”

  “She had angina, but other than that, she was okay. She had regular check ups at the surgery. She said home visits were for old people.” Hilary managed a weak smile at the memory.

  “That’s enough questions.” Battery stepped forward.

  “Just one more thing. What kind of car do you drive?”

  “I don’t. It was stolen—”

  “That’s it!” Battery took hold of my arm. I toyed with the idea of casting the ‘power’ spell, so I could throw him across the room, but I thought better of it.

  “Mrs V, do you remember the name of that guy my dad used to use to trace cars?”

  “You mean Seamus-the-wheel?”

  “That’s him.”

  I found his number on Dad’s old Rolodex and gave him a call.

  “Hello?” he said. I loved that Irish accent.

  “Seamus?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Seamus, it’s Jill Gooder, Ken’s daughter.”

  “Jill. How are you darlin’? It’s been ages and a day.”

  “I’m okay, thanks. How about you?”

  “I keep going, you know. As long as there’s Guinness, I’ll be okay. What can I be doing for you?”

  “I was wondering. Do you still do the cars?”

  Seamus-the-wheel knew everything there was to know about cars, but his speciality was in finding them. He worked both sides of the law. If you needed a particular car stealing, he’d find it. If you’d had a car stolen, he’d find it. His methods were a black box, and it was understood that no questions would be asked. Dad had used Seamus on several occasions, and he’d always delivered.

  “I’m mostly retired, but I still keep my hand in for a few old friends.”

  “Would you be able to help me?”

  “You shouldn’t need to ask, darlin’. Anything for Ken Gooder’s daughter. What can I do you for?”

  I gave him the names and addresses of Hector and Hilary Vicars, and asked if he could check on any cars that the siblings owned, or may have owned in the recent past. He promised to have something for me within a few days.

  Kathy had arranged for me to talk to Natasha Cutts, the girlfriend of Norman Reeves, the holiday fund organiser who had disappeared along with the cash. Natasha made me look tall; she barely came up to my chin.

  “Hi.” She seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Come in.”

  “Thanks.”

  We went through to her living room. Every surface was covered with thimbles.

  “You collect thimbles.” Nothing like stating the obvious.

  I wondered if she had them catalogued—I was guessing she did.

  “Since I was six.”

  “Nice.” I’d just about exhausted my thimble-related conversation. “Do you knit?” Perhaps a discount voucher for Grandma’s shop might cheer her up.

  “Knit? No. Why?”

  “No reason.” I pushed the vouchers back into my pocket.

  “Everyone blames me.” She began to cry.

  I checked my pockets for a tissue, but could find only discount vouchers.

  “I haven’t heard anyone blame you,” I lied. I’d actually heard plenty of people sticking the boot in during my brief attendance at the action committee meeting. Guilt by association as far as they were concerned.

  “How long have you been with Norman?”

  “Not long.” She sniffed. “Only a few weeks.”

  “Had he been acting strangely at all?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did he have money problems?”

  “Not as far as I know, but then we never really discussed money.” She stood up. “Do you mind if I make a cup of tea?”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “Would you like one?”

  “Please. Milk and one and two-thirds spoonfuls of sugar.”

  I followed her into the kitchen where she put on the kettle, then blew her nose. “Sorry about this. It’s all getting a bit too much. Would you like a biscuit?”

  She offered me the biscuit tin, and I was about to refuse when I spotted that it was full of custard creams—and only custard creams!

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “Take two.”

  I slipped the third one back into the tin. “Thanks.”

  By the time she was on her second biscuit, she’d come around a little. “Norman seemed like a good guy, you know.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “We went to that little Italian restaurant. Antonio’s it’s called.”

  “I can’t say I know it.”

  “It’s out of town. The food was great, but the service was a little slow.”

  “Did he seem okay? Did he say or do anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Nothing. It was a lovely evening.”

  “Did you go home with him afterwards?” Subtle—that’s me.

  “No. We both had work the next day, and we’d been drinking, so we took separate cabs.”

  “Do you have a recent photo of him?”

  “Only on here.” She picked up her phone, scrolled through the menu, and then held it out for me to see.

  The tall, gangly young man was obviously camera-shy.

  “Could you email that to me?”

  “Sure.”

  I asked a few more questions, and then took my leave—taking particular care to avoid any thimble-related accidents on the way out.

  There was no sign of Mrs V when I got back to the office—no doubt still enjoying the free champagne with the other yarnies (woollies)? She’d left another delivery of cat treats on my desk.

  “I believe these belong to you?” I held out the packet of treats.

  “Gimme, gimme, gimme.” Winky weaved through my legs.

  “This is the last time. Got it? No more selling Mrs V’s scarves.”

  Winky shrugged.

  “If you do, I’ll tell her you’re responsible for the missing scarves, and there’s no guessing what she might do. It’s a long way down from that window.”

  “Okay, okay. Just give me those.”

  Did I trust him? Not as far as I could throw him. But the threat of Mrs V taking her revenge might be enough to curtail his scarf thievery.

  Holy moly. I’d lost track of time. My lesson with Grandma was scheduled to start in ten minutes. Maybe she’d be so drunk that she’d forget. Some chance. I had to get there, and get there fast. Whenever possible, I still liked to take the car to Candlefield. The journey along quiet roads, through beautiful scenery, was a great way to shake off the tensions of the day. Luckily I had a backup plan. I could use the level three spell which Grandma had shown me when I’d been stuck in Candlefield without my car. It wasn’t an easy spell—it could be exhausting—but right now it was Hobson’s choice.

  I hadn’t yet mastered the landing, and once again landed on my backside with a thud.

  “That had to hurt,” Amber said.

  “What level is that spell?” Pearl asked.

  The twins had been waiting outside Grandma’s house when I landed, unceremoniously in front of them.

  “Level three.” I picked myself up—trying to resist the urge to rub my sore bottom.

  “Wow!” Amber said. “You really are leaving us behind.”

  The twins had been stuck on level two for some years. The last thing I wanted to do was to make them feel bad.

  “Not really. This is my first level two lesson today. I’m going to need your help.”

  “Why are you three waiting out here?” Grandma appeared in the doorway. “Come on in. We have lots to get through.”

  We followed her inside.

  “And Jill, brush your trousers down. You have gravel on your backside.”


  Chapter 8

  “Grandma’s new shop, Ever A Wool Moment, opened today,” I told the twins in a voice loud enough for Grandma to hear. “It was a great success.” What? I’m not above a little sucking up.

  “When do we get to see it?” Amber asked.

  Grandma was stony-faced. “Why are you discussing my shop?”

  Whoops.

  “I just wanted to tell the twins how well the opening went.”

  “Is this the right time?”

  I could tell from her expression that the answer wasn’t ‘yes’. “Sorry.”

  “You all need to pay attention,” Grandma said. “You two.” She pointed to the twins. “You have been stuck on level two for too long. It doesn’t reflect well on me.”

  Amber and Pearl both studied their feet.

  “And you.” Grandma turned to face me. “No more gossiping about yarn. Understand?”

  “Got it. Sorry.”

  There was only one spell on the agenda today. Grandma had said that one level two spell per lesson was enough. No arguments from me there. Today’s spell was ‘listen’ which had been responsible for introducing me to Mr Ivers’ mysterious love life.

  “I hate this spell,” Amber whispered to me.

  “Me too,” Pearl said.

  “As I’ve told the girls a million times,” Grandma said. “Level one spells are easy. From level two onwards it’s all about focus. Any idiot can memorise a spell.”

  The twins exchanged a glance.

  “At least that’s what I used to think.” She glared at Amber and Pearl. “These two appear to be the exception to the rule. Maybe you’ll be able to drag them up with you, Jill.”

  I felt terrible. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass my cousins. “I’m sure we can all help one another.”

  The twins managed a smile. Grandma didn’t.

  She left the three of us alone for ten minutes to give us time to prepare.

  “I always make a mess of this one,” Amber said, desperately studying the book.

  “I’ve never managed it yet.” Pearl was looking over her sister’s shoulder.

  “Do you remember the images?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Pearl said. “I’ve tried it so many times that I know them off by heart.”

  “Me too.” Amber nodded.

  “Then forget the book. It isn’t going to tell you anything you don’t already know. I tried this spell at home, and I couldn’t get it to work either, but then my mother appeared and told me what I’d been doing wrong. It’s like Grandma says, it’s all in the focus; it’s all about the concentration.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll forget the images or mix them up,” Amber said.

  “That’s the problem right there. Instead of focussing on casting the spell, you’re worrying about remembering the images, but they’re already in your memory. Just focus your mind on the desired result. Nothing else.”

  The twins looked at me, and then at one another. They weren’t exactly exuding confidence.

  “Time’s up.” Grandma had rejoined us. “We need to go outside for this.”

  The three of us followed her. I noticed the twins were holding hands.

  “Jill,” Grandma said. “You can go first. Do you see those two women at the bottom of the hill?”

  I nodded. The two women in question were deep in conversation. The younger one of the two had a pram. The older one was staring down into the pram.

  “I want you to tell me what they’re saying.”

  Wasn’t eavesdropping rather rude? Not if Grandma ordered you to do it.

  I closed my eyes, and remembered what my mother had told me. Focus. Concentrate. This time the blast of noise didn’t come as such a shock, and I was able to quickly filter out all sounds except the conversation between the two women.

  “The older one said that the baby reminded her of her son when he was a baby. The younger one said she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he was born.”

  “Very good,” Grandma said. “Amber, you can go next.”

  Amber released her sister’s hand, and stepped forward. She looked terrified. I felt so sorry for her.

  Grandma looked up the hill this time. “See those two young boys. Tell me what they’re saying.”

  Amber looked at me, and I mouthed the word ‘focus’.

  She nodded and closed her eyes. I studied her expression as she began to cast the spell. After only a few seconds, she smiled a huge smile.

  “The one on the bike said that he’s going to the park. The other boy said he isn’t allowed to go because he didn’t do his homework.”

  “Well done, Amber,” Grandma said. “Not before time.”

  Pearl looked even more nervous than her sister had done. After Amber’s success, the pressure on her was even greater.

  “Focus,” Amber said. “It really works.”

  Pearl tried to smile, but looked close to tears.

  “Do you see the man and woman up there, on the opposite side of the road to the two young boys?”

  Pearl nodded.

  “Tell me what they’re saying.”

  I had everything crossed. Amber did too by the look of it. Although the twins spent most of their waking hours squabbling, they obviously cared deeply for one another.

  Pearl closed her eyes; the concentration was etched on her face.

  “He asked her what’s for dinner. She said whatever he makes.”

  Amber embraced her sister. I embraced them both.

  “The cupcakes are on us!” Pearl said, as we walked up the hill.

  The lesson was over, and Grandma had declared herself satisfied with our performance. True praise indeed from her.

  “Thanks, Jill.” Amber gave my hand a squeeze. The twins were walking either side of me.

  “I didn’t do anything. It was down to you.”

  “We couldn’t have done it without you.” Pearl squeezed my other hand. “Goodness knows we’ve tried often enough.”

  I was pleased to have helped them, but was still a little embarrassed. I was acutely aware that I was still very much the newbie. The twins had been witches since the day they were born. But then, I guess I had too—I simply hadn’t known it.

  “You’re going to be a great witch,” Amber said. “Just like Grandma.”

  Pearl and I both stopped and looked at her.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean just like Grandma. You’re way too pretty, and kind. When I said—”

  “Keep digging.” Pearl teased her sister.

  “You know what I mean. You’re going to be a level six witch. And at the rate you’re progressing, it won’t take long.”

  “She’s right,” Pearl said. “We’ve grown up with lots of witches, and hardly any of them have advanced beyond level four. None of them have made it all the way to level six, but you will.”

  I was overwhelmed, but knew I had to keep my feet on the ground. Much as I loved my cousins, and appreciated their kind words, I wasn’t sure they were the best judge of my abilities or potential. Grandma would probably have had a different take on it.

  It took me a while to track down Antonio’s Italian Restaurant. Hardly surprising as it was in the back end of nowhere. The food must have been exceptional. Why else would anyone have travelled all that way when there were more Italian restaurants in Washbridge city centre than you could shake a pizza at?

  As always, I tried the formal, official approach first. I asked the manager if I could view his CCTV.

  ‘Need a warrant blah, blah, blah.’

  ‘Data protection blah, blah, blah.’

  ‘You’re not the police blah, blah, blah.’

  No one could say I hadn’t tried, but now it was time for plan B. Invisibility really was a witch’s best friend.

  It took me a while to track down the room where the CCTV monitors were located, so I was forced to hide in a broom cupboard for thirty minutes in between periods of invisibility. The restaurant was empty because it wasn’t due to open for a
couple of hours, and most of the staff were in the kitchen. The CCTV monitors were in an office which was only slightly larger than the broom cupboard. The door was unlocked—security was all very low key.

  The on-screen menu listed the CCTV recordings by date. Two clicks with the mouse, and I was viewing footage from the night in question. There were only two cameras. One focussed on the bar; the other on the pay desk. That made sense because if anyone was going to try to rob the place, those would be the likeliest targets. Despite its out of town location, Antonio’s was obviously popular. On-screen a steady stream of customers could be seen walking by the pay desk on their way in and out of the restaurant. At around the eight-fifteen mark, I saw Natasha Cutts walk in. The man at her side had his back to the camera. Two hours later, they reappeared, the man waited for her at the door while she paid the bill using plastic. I still couldn’t get a good look at Norman Reeves who, on this evidence, was a cheapskate who allowed his date to pick up the bill.

  When I got back to my flat, I gave Kathy a call to update her.

  “Not much to report so far,” I said. “I’ve spoken to Natasha. She was pretty upset. She thinks everyone blames her.”

  “She shouldn’t take any notice. Most people know it’s not her fault. There are always a few loudmouths willing to throw accusations around.”

  “I’ve checked the CCTV at the restaurant where they ate. That was the last time she saw him.”

  “How did you manage to view the CCTV?”

  “If I told you that, I’d be forced to kill you.”

  “Don’t go getting yourself in hot water with the police again. Not now you and Jacky boy are on such good terms.”

  “What have I told you about calling him Jacky boy?”

  “You and he have made up though, haven’t you?”

  “For now, I guess. Although I still haven’t forgiven him for trying to make me look a fool at the bowling alley.”

  “You didn’t tell me about that.”

  “It was nothing. He asked me to make up the numbers for some police league thing.”

  “You? Ten-pin bowling? That’s a laugh.”

  “That’s what he thought until I handed his ass to him.”