Witch is Why It Was Over Read online

  “She doesn’t think that Stephen knew about the affair.”

  “He didn’t. Definitely not. We were very discreet.”

  “In my job, I come across a lot of couples who think they’re being discreet, but there are usually clues if you know where to look for them. Isn’t it possible that Stephen knew about your affair?”

  “No. He would have confronted me.”

  “Is that what happened? Did he confront you on that night?”

  “No. I’ve just told you he had no idea about the affair. What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything; I’m just looking for answers. I understand that you worked late the night that Stephen died?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Georgina said that you’d originally planned to meet her that night, but then cried off.”

  “That’s true. Something urgent cropped up at the last minute, but I still got away before Stephen. He was fine when I left. You surely don’t think I had anything to do with his death? Would I have come to see you if I had?”

  “If I’m going to find the murderer, it’s essential you tell me the whole truth. The fact that you omitted to tell me about the affair makes me wonder if there’s anything else you’re holding back.”

  “There’s nothing else, I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t mention the affair, but as I said, I thought I was protecting Georgina. I can see now that wasn’t necessary.”

  “Would you say that you and Georgina have a happy marriage?”

  “What kind of question is that? Of course we do. We’ve never been happier. I really fail to see what any of this has to do with Stephen’s death.”

  “Why don’t we talk about the proposed takeover?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Who was trying to take over West Star?”

  “Mondale. They were one of the big players at the time, but they went bust about three years after Stephen died.”

  “Why were you against the takeover? The money must have been tempting?”

  “Money isn’t everything. West Star was only small back then, but we’d already attracted a number of blue-chip clients. And besides, Stephen was deluding himself. He thought he’d be able to take the money and walk away. There was no way that Mondale would have let either of us do that. They didn’t really want to buy the business; they wanted to buy the two of us because, essentially, we were West Star. They would have tied us to the business for at least seven years. I was used to being my own boss, and I had no desire to give that up.”

  “Stephen must have been angry that you blocked the takeover?”

  “He was, but he would have got over it eventually.”

  “I’d like to talk about the night of Stephen’s murder.”

  “Okay.”

  “Who was in the office?”

  “Just Stephen and I.”

  “What about Ruth?”

  “From memory, she stayed until about eight, but then went home. Stephen was working in his office; I was in mine.”

  “Did either of you have any visitors during that time?”

  “I didn’t. I don’t think Stephen did.”

  “Aren’t you sure?”

  “No. Back then, the offices weren’t like this.” He gestured to the glass walls. “The only windows were those in the doors. We couldn’t see into each other’s office.”

  “Wouldn’t you have heard voices if he’d had any visitors?”

  “Probably, and I didn’t.”

  “What time did you leave?”

  “Sometime between ten and ten-thirty.”

  “And you’re sure Stephen was okay then?”

  “Positive. I popped into his office to tell him I was leaving.”

  “What happened the next day?”

  “When I arrived, the police were already here. Ruth had found Stephen dead in his office.”

  “I asked Georgina if Stephen had any enemies; she said that he didn’t. Is that true?”

  “Yes, I would say so. The advertising game is a tough one, and we had competitors who wouldn’t have been sorry to see us go out of business, but there was no one who would wish Stephen dead.”

  “Who do you think killed Stephen?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  It had proved to be an interesting meeting. Although it had yielded no clues as to who murdered Stephen Bradley, it had exposed discrepancies between the stories told by Thomas and Georgina. She’d said it was her idea for them to come to me, but he’d insisted it was his. He’d maintained the reason for not telling me about the affair was to protect Georgina, and yet she’d been only too happy to tell me about it. Georgina had said that their relationship was in trouble, and that she intended to leave Thomas, but he insisted they were as happy as they’d ever been.

  They couldn’t both be telling the truth.

  ***

  I was on my way back to the office when my phone rang.

  “Jill, it’s Dexter.” He sounded panic-stricken.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I rang Jules a couple of minutes ago.”

  “Already? I told you to wait a while.”

  “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure we were okay.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was really lovely about it all.”

  “So what’s wrong?”

  “She wants to visit my grandmother in hospital with me.”

  “Please tell me you said that wouldn’t be possible.”

  “She caught me off-guard.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That she could.”

  “You idiot.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You have to call her back and tell her she can’t go.”

  “If I do that now, she’ll think I’ve been making it all up. You have to help me, Jill. You were the one who came up with the idea of my grandmother.”

  “When are you supposed to be taking her?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Okay, try not to panic.”

  “It’s too late for that. I’m losing my mind here.”

  “Everything’s going to be alright.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll think of something. What time have you arranged to pick up Jules?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “Right. Go ahead and do that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll send you a text as soon as I do.”

  I ended the call before he had the chance to ask more questions that I couldn’t answer. How on earth had I managed to get myself into such a mess?

  What? Alright, I know. It’s my own fault for lying. Are you happy now? Sheesh!

  I’d no sooner finished on the call to Dexter than my phone rang again.

  “Aunt Lucy?”

  “Jill, our offer for the new house has been accepted.”

  “That’s great. I’m really happy for you.”

  “Are you alright, Jill? You sound a bit stressed.”

  “I am a little. I’m okay, though.”

  “I’m just going over to the new house. Why don’t you come with me? It’ll take your mind off things.”

  “Yeah, I think I will. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Aunt Lucy was waiting for me outside her house.

  “We’ll take the car, Jill. You can drive.”

  “Okay.”

  I’d never seen Aunt Lucy quite so excited; she talked non-stop during the short journey over to her new house.

  “Which one is it?” I asked when we pulled up outside a pair of semi-detached cottages, both of which had a ‘For Sale’ sign in their garden.

  “The one on the left. They’re owned by two elderly sisters who have decided to move to the seaside.”

  “They look identical.”

  “They are, pretty much. We had a difficult time deciding which one to make an offer on. In the end, we went for this one because the rear garden is slightly larger.
Come and take a look inside.”

  “Are they leaving any of the furniture?”

  “Matilda, that’s the sister who’s selling this house, has said we can buy any of the furniture in the lounge or bedrooms if we want to. She and her sister will be sharing a house after they move, so they won’t need to take it all with them.”

  “The sofa and chairs look practically new. And the sideboard is gorgeous.”

  “I agree. Lester and I have decided to buy those, and a wardrobe too. At the prices she’s asking, we’d be fools not to.”

  The rest of the cottage did not disappoint. Although it was smaller than Aunt Lucy’s current house, it had way more character, and was certainly big enough for just her and Lester.

  After she’d shown me all around the house, Aunt Lucy took me out into the rear garden.

  “This needs some work,” I said.

  “Matilda and her sister have found it difficult to keep on top of their gardens. Still, that’s not a problem; Lester and I will soon knock this into shape. And if we need any help, we can always call on you.”

  “Me?”

  “It’s okay. I’m only joking. We’re actually looking forward to the challenge.”

  “Have you told Grandma that you’re moving, yet?”

  “No, but I’ll have to soon because the ‘For Sale’ sign will be going up at our house.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled for you.” I grinned.

  “Somehow, I doubt that.” Aunt Lucy checked her watch. “I’d better get back, so I can get started on dinner.”

  “Will you drive, Aunt Lucy? I’d like you to drop me at Cuppy C on the way past if you don’t mind. I could kill for a muffin.”

  “No problem. By the way, you haven’t forgotten that you promised to check out that modelling agency for Barry, have you?”

  “To be honest, it had completely slipped my mind.”

  “It hasn’t slipped his. He keeps asking if I’ve heard from you. What shall I tell him?”

  “Tell him that I’m going to check it out today, would you? I’ll go there as soon as I’ve had a coffee and muffin.”

  ***

  Pearl was behind the counter in the tea room, but there was no sign of Amber.

  “My usual, please.”

  “Five blueberry muffins?”

  “Very funny. Just one will do. Where’s Amber?”

  “Shopping with William. She’s taking liberties; this is the second time I’ve been stuck here by myself this week.”

  “I saw her after she’d been for a check-up. What about you? Have you had yours yet?”

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” Pearl passed me the coffee and muffin. “I’m glad I’ve caught you by yourself because—”

  “Excuse me, love.” A young man wearing a grey uniform appeared at my side. “I’m here about the smart meter.”

  The man’s uniform looked several sizes too big for him, and with the cap pulled down over his eyes, I could barely see his face. He was really struggling to carry the large toolbox he had with him.

  “It’s through here.” Pearl beckoned him to follow her.

  “Weird guy,” I said when she returned.

  “Takes all sorts. They’re replacing the old meters with smart ones. Hopefully, the new one will save us a bit of money.”

  “You were about to tell me something.”

  “Was I? Oh yeah, I remember. Alan and I have come up with names for the baby. Would you like to hear them?”

  “Of course.”

  “If it’s a girl, we’re going to call her Lily. Lil for short. And if it’s a boy, we’ll call him—”

  “Phil?”

  “No. Bill. They rhyme, did you notice?”

  “So they do. Have you and Amber discussed names?”

  “No. I know what she’s like. She’ll nick our ideas. You won’t tell her, will you, Jill?”

  “Of course not. My lips are sealed.”

  Chapter 8

  The Pooch First Model Agency was only a stone’s throw from Cuppy C. Their offices were located on a side street, above a fishmonger. The vampire who had given the business card to Aunt Lucy had said I should phone, but I thought I’d get a better feel for the operation if I could see their offices, and speak to someone face-to-face. I’d heard lots of horror stories about modelling agencies who made a living not by finding their clients work, but by charging for things such as providing photos for a portfolio. Granted, those had been agencies for humans rather than for animals, but if anything, I was even more suspicious of an agency which represented only dogs.

  The name of the business was embossed on the frosted glass in the door. I knocked, but there was no reply, so I tried the door and found it was unlocked.

  The room was small, but tastefully decorated. The desk looked antique, and not too dissimilar to my own.

  “Hello? Anyone home?”

  “I’ll be with you in a minute.” The man’s voice came from behind a second door at the back of the room.

  While I waited, I looked around the office. Framed photographs of dogs of all shapes and sizes adorned every wall. In between two of the photos was a framed certificate that confirmed Scott Basset was a member of the Canine Modelling Association.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” The man was smartly dressed in what looked like a Harris Tweed suit. “I’ve been meaning to have a clear out back there for months.”

  “Are you Mr Basset?”

  “I am, but please call me Scott. How can I help you?”

  “You gave your business card to my dog. Or at least to my aunt who was walking him in the park.”

  “You’re Barry’s owner?”

  “That’s right.” I was surprised and more than a little impressed that he knew which dog I was referring to. Until then, I’d assumed he handed out his business card willy-nilly. “How did you know?”

  “You mentioned the park. I’ve only come across one dog that was of interest to me in there recently. A very handsome labradoodle he is too.”

  “Thank you. Barry said that you wanted me to phone, but I thought it would be better for me to speak to you in person. I hope you don’t mind my calling in without an appointment?”

  “Not at all, and especially not if your visit means that you’re interested in allowing Barry to sign with us.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll be perfectly honest with you. I’m very sceptical about this whole thing.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable. Hopefully, I’ll be able to put your mind at ease on any reservations you might have. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll do my best to answer all of your questions?”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you like a drink? I only have tea, I’m afraid.”

  “Tea will be fine. Milk and one and two-thirds spoonfuls of sugar, please.”

  “One and—err—two—err? Right. I won’t be a minute.”

  He disappeared into the back again, and returned with what proved to be a delicious cup of tea. He’d managed to get the sugar quota just right.

  “I have to say, Scott, I find it hard to believe that there’s such a thing as a model agency just for dogs.”

  “As far as I’m aware, this is the only one in Candlefield, but I’m sure there must be some in the human world.”

  “I didn’t think there would be that much call for dog models.”

  “How many adverts featuring dogs have you seen in magazines or on TV?”

  “I don’t know. A lot, I suppose.”

  “Do you think that the businesses, who spend huge sums of money to advertise their products, want any old mutt to be the face of their company?”

  “I’d never really thought about it.”

  “They most definitely do not. They want handsome dogs such as Barry to represent them.”

  “And these advertisers? They come to you?”

  “Most of them, yes. Without wishing to blow my own trumpet, I’ve built something of a reputation in the business. They know
if they contact me that they’ll get only the very best. That’s why I’m very selective about which dogs I approach.”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “I started Pooch First eight years ago, but I’ve worked in the modelling business for almost twenty years. Between you and me, I much prefer working with dogs. They’re far less temperamental than sups.”

  “What does it cost?”

  “The advertiser? That depends entirely on the campaign they have in mind.”

  “I meant the dog owner. What would it cost me?”

  “Nothing, of course.”

  “I thought there might be some charge for taking photos or something like that?”

  “Certainly not. You should run away from any agency which wants you to give them money. I only make money if you do.”

  “I don’t imagine that there’s much money to be made. Do most people sign up just for the thrill of seeing their dog in a magazine or on screen?”

  “I think you might be pleasantly surprised. I only deal with major advertisers; it isn’t worth my time to get involved with the smaller accounts.”

  “What sort of money are we talking?”

  “The very least you should expect to make from a campaign is five-hundred pounds.”

  “Five hundred?” I tried not to look as excited as I was. “From a single campaign?”

  “Yes, and often it’s more than that.”

  “Right. I had no idea.”

  “So? Is it something you’d be interested in?”

  “I think so.” Just try stopping me. “Not for the money of course, but because Barry seems so keen.”

  “Great. I’ll need you to sign a contract, and then we have to get Barry over to my photographer.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Where shall I send the contract?”

  “Can you post it to an address in the human world?”

  “Sure. That’s no problem.”

  I gave him my office address, and he said he’d be in touch with details of the photoshoot.

  Back on the street, I was feeling pretty pleased with life. At five-hundred pounds per gig, I stood to make a small fortune. Good old Barry.

  I made a quick call to Aunt Lucy.

  “It’s me. I’ve just been to the dog model agency. It looks like they’re legit. Will you tell Barry that I’ve agreed for him to sign with them, and that he’ll need to get his photographs taken for his portfolio. I’ll let you have the details when I know more.”