Witch is How The Mirror Lied Page 7

  “That’s great. Where is the—?”

  Too late—she’d gone.

  I considered calling her back, but decided not to push my luck. It surely wouldn’t be too difficult to locate the tavern she’d mentioned.

  ***

  Before I could go in search of Columbus Dark, I had an appointment with Charlie Cross, the retired sergeant, in West Chipping. But first, I had to try to stop my parents handing over their money to the fraudsters, Ghost Horizons.

  “Jill? What are you doing here?” My mother was clearly surprised to see me standing there. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Can I come in for a minute?”

  “Of course. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Not for me, thanks. Where’s Alberto?”

  “He’s out the back. He likes to wipe the dew off the gnomes first thing in the mornings.”

  “Right. I wanted a quick word about this holiday home idea of yours.”

  “If you’re feeling guilty because you turned us down, there’s no need. I never should have asked.”

  “No, it’s not that. What’s the name of the company that is arranging the holiday home for you in the human world?”

  “Ghost Horizons. Why?”

  “Have you paid them any money yet?”

  “No, we’re supposed to go into their offices tomorrow to pay them. We’ll have to go to the bank first to draw out the cash because they don’t accept any other form of payment.”

  “I bet they don’t.”

  “Is there some kind of problem with them? What have you heard?”

  I told her about the ghosts who had been sent by Ghost Horizons to live at Kathy’s house.

  “Are you trying to tell me that these charlatans aren’t vetting the hosts at all?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Once you’ve handed over the money, you could end up just about anywhere.”

  “That’s outrageous. The whole point of paying for the service was so we could live in a house where the hosts welcomed us with open arms. Wait until I see them; I’ll give them a piece of my mind. And I imagine your father will have plenty to say to them too.”

  “You mustn’t do that.”

  “Why not? They almost cheated us out of a good part of our savings.”

  “That may make you feel better, but they’ll still be able to cheat other ghosts out of their money.”

  “What do you suggest I do, then?”

  “Why don’t you have a word with Constance Bowler at GT police station? I’m sure she’d be interested in setting up some kind of sting operation to catch these people red-handed. We need to put them out of business once and for all. She’ll probably need you to help, though. That’s if you’re up for it?”

  “Sign me up. No one tries to steal my hard-earned cash and gets away with it.”

  ***

  My first visit to Middle Tweaking, some time ago now, had been to take part in a murder mystery evening held at the local pub: The Old Trout. Kathy had dragged me there, and if I recall correctly, I’d been the only one to pick out the ‘murderer’.

  What’s that you say? It was Jack who picked out the murderer? That can’t possibly be right.

  Anyway, moving on. Not long after that evening, there had been a real-life murder in the village. Madge Hick, the postmistress, had been murdered by the then landlord of the Old Trout, Trevor Total. That was the first time I’d worked alongside Myrtle, and she’d left an indelible impression on me. If nothing else, it had dispelled any misconceptions I’d harboured that age might be a barrier to effectiveness. She was as sharp as a razor, and as tough as old boots. During that investigation, Myrtle had introduced me to Charlie Cross, who was a sergeant in the police force at the time. Now retired, on health grounds, he’d agreed to meet with me, to discuss the recent murder of Robert Evans.

  “Jill, how very nice to see you again.” Charlie greeted me at the door of his cottage, which was located half a mile outside the village of Middle Tweaking. He’d lost a little weight since the last time I’d seen him, but otherwise, he seemed in rude health.

  “Lovely place you have here, Charlie.”

  “Thank you. I’ve just put on the kettle. Would you like tea?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  While he was in the kitchen, I took a look around the lounge. On the walls were several photographs of Charlie in uniform, from early pictures of a fresh-faced constable, to more recent shots of him taken in the village. Conspicuous by their absence were any photographs of family.

  “There you go, Jill.” He handed me the cup. “Milk and one and two-thirds sugar. I hope that’s right?”

  “How on earth did you know?”

  “I have my spies.” He laughed.

  “How long were you in the force, Charlie?”

  “All my working life—man and boy. I never rose above sergeant, but that suited me down to the ground. I’d no desire to move into management; there was enough paperwork at my level. If I remember correctly, your young man is in the force, isn’t he?”

  “Jack is actually my husband now. We married quite recently.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, and yes, he’s a detective based in West Chipping. Are you—err—were you married, Charlie?”

  “Me? No. There was someone once, but things didn’t work out.”

  I didn’t ask him, but I couldn’t help but wonder if that someone had been Myrtle. She’d told me that they’d once been an item.

  When we’d finished our tea, we got down to business.

  “I imagine Myrtle has told you about Robert Evans?” Charlie wore a pained expression as he spoke the man’s name.

  “I understand he inherited his grandmother’s house here in the village.”

  “That’s right. Josie Plumb was a wonderful lady, and a leading light on the allotments committee. How she ever ended up with a grandson like Robert is beyond me. There were wild parties, loud music, drink and goodness knows what else. If I’d still been on the force, I would have shut it down.”

  “Didn’t your successor have anything to say about all these goings on?”

  “You mean Thorne? She wouldn’t lower herself to get involved with anything so trivial. She should never have been assigned to the area because she doesn’t understand village life at all. She was quick enough to get involved with the murder, though.”

  “I take it you don’t rate her?”

  “I do not, but I wouldn’t want you to think it’s because she’s a woman or because she’s young. That makes no difference in my book. Take you—you’re a young woman but from what I hear from Myrtle, you could run rings around almost anyone.”

  “Myrtle told me that they haven’t found the murder weapon?”

  “That’s right, and I think that’s going to be the key to solving this case. The other evidence is mostly circumstantial, but it’s all stacked against Myrtle. There are any number of witnesses who saw her arguing with Evans, and it’s common knowledge there was no love lost between them. But it’s the evidence they found on Myrtle’s property that could end up convicting her.”

  “The footprints in the garden, you mean?”

  “That and the hair that was stuck in the water-wheel.”

  “Myrtle insists that Evans was never on her property while she was there.”

  “I believe her, but there’s no getting away from the fact that he was in her garden at some point, and that he entered the river close by the waterwheel. The thing you have to remember, Jill, is that there’s no easy access to that back garden, other than through the house.”

  “Are you saying you think that Robert Evans was actually inside Myrtle’s house?”

  “I can’t be sure, but it’s difficult to see how he could have got into the back garden any other way. There’s a huge wall around it, with razor wire on the top.”

  “Razor wire?”

  “Myrtle took her security very seriously.”

  “So it would seem.
If he didn’t scale the wall, and Myrtle didn’t let him into the house, then how did he get into the garden?”

  “If you can work that out, Jill, you’ll be a lot closer to knowing what really happened that day.”

  “Apart from Myrtle, who had access to her house?”

  “Hodd and Jobbs, obviously. No one else I can think of.” Charlie drank the last of his tea. “There was the cleaner, I suppose.”

  “Myrtle has a cleaner?”

  “Not now, but some time back, Myrtle injured her ankle and was laid up for several weeks, so she brought in a cleaner to help around the place. Once Myrtle was back on her feet, she let her go.”

  “The cleaner, was she a local? Do you know her name?”

  “She doesn’t live in the village. Hodd and Jobbs will probably be able to give you her details.”

  We kicked the thing around for another half hour or so, but it was obvious that Charlie was as baffled as everyone else as to who had murdered Robert Evans.

  “Thanks for your time, Charlie.”

  “My pleasure. I may be retired, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been put out to pasture yet. If there’s anything you need—anything at all, give me a shout.”

  Chapter 9

  My phone rang, and I could see from the caller ID that it was Chris Longacre, Susan’s father.

  “Jill, we just wondered if you had any news for us?”

  “Nothing concrete yet, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh.” There was so much disappointment contained in that one tiny word.

  “I am following up a lead, though.”

  “Really? What’s that?”

  “A possible sighting of Mark and Susan.”

  “Where?”

  “In the city centre.”

  “That’s something, isn’t it?”

  “It might be, but I wouldn’t want you to get your hopes up yet.”

  “What’s the next step?”

  “I’m trying to track down someone who may have more information on their whereabouts.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Oh boy, this conversation wasn’t going well.

  “Chris, I’m sorry, but I have an urgent call on the other line. I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything to report.”

  “But, Jill, is—?”

  I ended the call, and then ignored his repeated attempts to phone me back. I felt terrible leaving them hanging like that—they must be going through hell—but what could I do? There was nothing else I could tell them. At least, nothing that wouldn’t make me look like some kind of crazy woman.

  ***

  “Is that anti-jamming thingy still working, Jill?” Mrs V said.

  “Sorry?”

  “That device you had installed some time ago. Is it still operational?”

  It suddenly all came flooding back to me. Many moons ago, Mrs V had been convinced that someone was interfering with her knitting, by installing electronic devices in our offices. That was, of course, total nonsense, but the only way I could put her mind at ease was by telling her that I’d had an anti-jamming device installed (whatever one of those was).

  “Err—yeah, it’s still working. Why do you ask?”

  “That despicable crochet crowd have organised their annual conference on the same day as our knitting conference. I didn’t think I’d see the day when they’d stoop so low.”

  “But don’t you crochet as well as knit?”

  “Shush!” She glanced around nervously. “You don’t know who might be listening.”

  “They can’t listen in. Not now we have the anti-jamming device.”

  “Of course. Sorry, Jill. This whole incident has set my nerves on edge.”

  “Why don’t you have a joint conference: Knitters and Crocheters?”

  She looked aghast. “Don’t be ridiculous. That would never work.”

  “Sorry—it was a silly suggestion. What exactly is it you’re worried about them overhearing?”

  “Those crocheters will employ every dirty trick in the book. I don’t want to risk them stealing any of our ideas.”

  “I see. Well, you can rest assured this office is totally secure.”

  When I went through to my office, Winky was sitting on the window sill. “The man is coming in later today, to measure these.”

  “Measure what?” I had no clue what he was talking about.

  “The windows of course. For the new blinds, which I’m paying for out of the goodness of my heart. I hope you appreciate it.”

  “Of course I do. I’d prefer grey if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Grey is much too boring. I was thinking purple.”

  “I’m not having purple blinds in here.”

  “Okay, okay. No purple.”

  “I mean it, Winky. I hate purple.”

  “Message received and understood.”

  ***

  Mid-afternoon, I had an unexpected visit from Daze.

  “I thought I should check if you were aware of the graffiti, Jill.”

  “I am, but it’s okay. I’ve had it removed from the bridge.”

  “Which bridge?”

  “The toll bridge near Smallwash. Isn’t that what you were talking about?”

  “No, I meant the graffiti on the building behind the old sock factory, and there’s some more around the back of the swimming baths.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Jill is a Witch. What did the graffiti on the toll bridge say?”

  “The same thing. Don’t worry, I’ll get those others removed too.”

  “There’s no need. I’ve already got Laze on it.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  “Do you have any idea who might be behind it?”

  “No, but when I find out, they’ll wish they’d never been born.”

  “There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you; something much more serious. Do you remember the blood distribution network?”

  “Of course. The last I heard, Blaze said he thought you were getting close to Mr Big, and he was hoping to close the network down soon.”

  “We did manage to arrest Mr Big, but it seems that there were any number of Mr Not-so-Bigs queuing up to take his place.”

  “Does that mean the network is still operating?”

  “Yes, but it’s even worse than that. The original Mr Big did at least have some kind of quality control for the blood that he was peddling. Whoever has taken over doesn’t seem to care what damage he does. Several vampires have died from drinking contaminated blood already.”

  “That’s terrible. What are you doing about it?”

  “The only thing we can do is get the word out to as many people as possible. That’s not easy because most of the shops who are in the network are operating under the radar, so there’s no way of knowing if we’ve covered them all. In the meantime, we’re expecting more fatalities. If you know of any shops owned or run by vampires, who you suspect might be dealing blood, please pass on this information.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. It’s a particularly horrible way to go. After drinking the contaminated blood, the vampire breaks out in green boils, and is dead within a few hours.”

  “I never cease to be amazed by the depths some people will stoop to just to make a few pounds.”

  ***

  Not long after Daze had left, it suddenly occurred to me that Coffee Games could be a target for the blood distribution network. I’d never seen anyone buying blood in there, but it wouldn’t do any harm for me to have a quiet word with Sarah, the new assistant.

  “The usual, Jill?” She seemed to have grown into her new job.

  “No, thanks. I wanted a quick word in private if that’s possible.”

  “Oh? Okay, but I can’t be away from the counter for long.”

  “It’ll only take a minute, I promise.”

  After getting one of the other staff to cover for her, she joined me at a quiet table near the back of the shop.

 
; “I need to ask you a question, and it’s important that you’re completely honest with me.”

  “Right?”

  “Do you sell human blood in here?”

  “What? Of course not.”

  “Are you absolutely positive about that?”

  “Yes. What’s this all about, Jill?”

  “There’s a criminal gang who are selling human blood through small high street shops such as this one. They usually target shops that are run or managed by vampires, and in particular coffee shops.”

  “I had no idea that anything like this was happening in the human world, but I can promise you there’s nothing like that going on in here.”

  “That’s good to hear because I’ve just been told that there’s a bad batch of blood in circulation; it’s already killed a number of vampires.”

  “That’s awful.”

  I handed her my card. “If you see or hear anything suspicious, please call me straight away.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  ***

  As I walked back up the high street, someone shouted, “Cooee!”

  “Deli, I didn’t see you there.” If I had, I would have turned around and walked in the opposite direction.

  “Have you heard from Madeline, Jill?”

  “Not since the wedding. Haven’t you?”

  “Not a word. That girl has always been the same. She doesn’t realise how much I worry about her.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. Mad can look after herself.”

  “I suppose so. Anyway, I wanted to let you know about my new business venture.”

  “Are you giving up the nail bar?”

  “No, don’t be silly. That place is a little goldmine. We’ve started to offer a brand new service in the shop, and I’m expecting it to double our profits.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  It would have been difficult for me to have cared any less. “Of course, I do.”

  “Tanning.”

  “Sunbeds?”

  “No, they’re so last year. We’ve had a spray tan booth installed.”