Witch Is Where Magic Lives Now Read online

  “That would be great. I hope she agrees but I’ll understand if she’d rather not. I really do appreciate your time and help, Headmistress.”

  “My pleasure. And I hope to see you teaching here again soon.”

  ***

  I magicked myself back to the office.

  “Good morning, Mrs V, how are you?”

  “Fine, thanks.” She sighed.

  “Are you sure? You don’t sound it.”

  “It’s just those pesky squirrels.”

  “Are they still causing you problems?”

  “It’s getting worse. It’s got to the point where Armi and I daren’t go into the back garden because every time we do, we get pelted with acorns.”

  “Oh dear.” Somehow, I managed not to laugh. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’ve no idea. I called the pest control people, but they said that squirrels aren’t considered to be pests. Those in my back garden certainly are.”

  There was something about this situation that just didn’t ring true. Squirrels were normally such harmless, timid creatures. Could they really be behind the acorn attacks? Or was something more sinister afoot? Was it possible that the wood nymphs had returned?

  In my office, Winky was talking to two cats who were seated on the sofa.

  “Ah, she’s here now. Jill, could you let us have some salmon, please. Red, obviously.”

  The cheek of that cat. He thought he could invite whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and that I’d just feed them. Well, enough was enough.

  “Could I have a word, Winky?” I beckoned him over to the opposite side of the room, and then said in a whisper, “You can’t just invite your friends in here and expect me to feed them. It’s not on. Tell them they have to leave.”

  “They aren’t my friends.”

  “That makes it even worse. You can’t invite strangers in for a free meal.”

  “They’re cops. They’re working undercover.”

  “Pull the other one. I’m not stupid.”

  He turned to the two cats. “Would you mind introducing yourselves to Jill?”

  “We really shouldn’t,” the male cat said. “This is an undercover operation as we explained to you.”

  “This is Jill’s office. She won’t say anything, will you?”

  “I—err—. No, of course not.”

  “Okay.” The cat flipped open a wallet and flashed a badge at me. “Agent Ricardo, CI5.”

  “CI5?”

  “Officer Lulu.” The female cat showed me an identical badge.

  “What’s this all about?”

  “We’re running surveillance on the building opposite.” She gestured to the window. “This room gives us the optimum vantage point.”

  “What’s going on over there?”

  “We’re not at liberty to divulge that information, but suffice to say, it involves organised crime.”

  “I see. How long will you need to be here?”

  “Hard to say. We hope to be out by the end of next week.”

  “End of next week?”

  “Hopefully. Is that okay?”

  “I—err—guess so.”

  “Now, about that salmon,” Winky said.

  “Err, sure. Coming right up.”

  ***

  I was paying another visit to Tweaking Manor, this time to speak to Caroline’s sister, Elizabeth Judge. Mulgrave met me at the door and led the way to the Marble Room where Elizabeth Judge was already waiting. If I hadn’t known the two women were sisters, I never would have guessed. The contrast between them was remarkable: Caroline seemed to care very little about her appearance. Her sister, on the other hand, looked as though she was ready to pose for a fashion shoot. Her clothes were well tailored and clearly extremely expensive, and she was dripping in jewellery. Her makeup and hair were both immaculate.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs Judge,” I said.

  “Call me Elizabeth, please, and it’s my pleasure. I’m happy to do whatever I can to help my sister.” She turned to the butler. “Mulgrave, would you be kind enough to make us a drink? Is tea alright for you, Jill?”

  “Tea’s fine, thanks.”

  “Very well, madam,” Mulgrave said, and then he left the room.

  “I do apologise that we had to meet in this dreadful room, Jill. It’s so cold in here. I had hoped we might be able to use the dining room, which is much warmer, but it seems that my sister has a meeting in there with her lawyer.”

  “That’s okay. I’m perfectly fine in here.” As long as I kept brushing the icicles off my nose.

  “I assume you want to discuss the missing goblet.”

  “That’s right. I’ve already spoken to your brother about it.”

  “Between you and me, you need look no further than Ransom to solve this particular mystery.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. Are you suggesting that it was your brother who stole the goblet?”

  “I’m not suggesting it. I’m saying it loud and clear.”

  “What reason could he have for doing that? As I understand it, the goblet has no real value.”

  “It doesn’t, but this is just the sort of thing he would do. He’s an idiot. He’s always been an idiot. If you’ve spoken to him, you must surely have reached the same conclusion. I’m ashamed to call him my brother. He and Dominic were playing billiards in the games room that night. He probably waited until Dominic had left the room and then grabbed the goblet.”

  “I knew Ransom had been playing billiards, but according to your sister, she checked the games room just before she turned in for the night, and she’s adamant the goblet was still in there.”

  “That’s as maybe, but I still think Ransom’s behind this. He has a massive chip on his shoulder.”

  “About what?”

  “He believes that he should be lord of the manor, but as Caroline has no doubt told you, the title doesn’t actually exist. Our father left the house and grounds to Caroline, and that’s what really riles Ransom. Father knew what Ransom was like and that he’d probably sell off the house to fund the lifestyle he aspires to.”

  “I see. When I spoke to him, he was clearly unhappy at the current state of Tweaking Manor.”

  “That’s understandable. We all are. None of us enjoys seeing the house in this state of disrepair, but I honestly don’t know what he expects my sister to do about it. She can’t magic money out of thin air.” Elizabeth managed a weak smile. “What we really need is for the Tweaking legend to prove to be true.”

  “What legend is that?”

  “Has no one told you about the parchment?”

  “No.”

  “In that case, you’d better come with me, and I’ll show you.”

  We bumped into Mulgrave on our way out of the door.

  “Mulgrave, would you be a dear and pour out the tea?” Elizabeth said. “I’m just taking Jill to see the parchment.”

  “Very well, madam.”

  Elizabeth led the way back to the hallway, and then down yet another corridor.

  “This is the Cedar Room.” She opened the door onto an empty room. “As you can see, it’s no longer in use. The parchment is over there on the wall.”

  I walked over to get a closer look. The parchment had been mounted behind glass in a wooden frame. The writing was faded, but I could just about make out the words, which I read out loud, “The first one to unlock the vault. And find riches beyond your wildest dreams.” I turned to Elizabeth. “Is it okay if I take a photo of this?”

  “Of course.”

  I snapped a photo with my phone. “Is there a vault in this house?”

  “Not that anyone is aware of. If you ask me, the parchment is no more than a practical joke, played on us by one of our ancestors. It’s a shame because, goodness knows, the family could do with the treasure. Between you and me, if my sister doesn’t come up with the money to pay the tax bill soon, she’ll lose the house, and that would be a tragedy.”

  Chapter 11


  I was beginning to flag, so I magicked myself over to Cuppy C for a coffee and a blueberry muffin. As I approached the counter, I spotted Daze and Blaze seated by the window. They were deep in conversation and hadn’t even noticed me come into the shop.

  “Hi, Jill.” Pearl was by herself behind the counter.

  “Hi. Can I get a caramel latte and a blueberry muffin, please?”

  “Coming up.”

  “Those two look busy.”

  “They’ve been like that for the last half hour. I don’t think either of them is in a particularly good mood.”

  I had my drink and muffin, and I was just about to take a seat at another table when Daze spotted me. “Jill, come and join us.”

  “Are you sure? You look busy.”

  “We’re busy alright.” She sighed. “But never too busy to talk to you. Come and sit down.”

  “Okay, thanks. You both look stressed out. What’s going on?”

  “You might well ask,” Blaze said. “Things have gone from crazy to ridiculous.”

  “We’re working on the Romeo case,” Daze said.

  “Romeo? Who’s that?”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him. He’s a wizard, and a thoroughly nasty piece of work. They call him Romeo because he’s a bit of a ladies’ man, or at least he thinks he is.” She took a photo out of her pocket and passed it to me.

  “Romeo? Seriously? He’s no oil painting, is he? Why are you after him?”

  “He’s been in and out of prison in Candlefield for as long as I can remember. He’s supposed to be out on licence at the moment, but he’s gone missing.”

  “What was he in prison for?”

  “Bank robberies. Dozens of them. He has the unusual distinction of being loathed equally by the authorities and his fellow criminals.”

  “Why would his fellow criminals loathe him?”

  “He works with a different accomplice every time, and he thinks nothing of doing the dirty on his partner-in-crime.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “They commit the crime together, and then he disappears with the money, leaving his unwitting accomplice to carry the can.”

  “Are you saying he plans for that to happen?”

  “Definitely. It’s happened too often for it to be a coincidence. There’s no sign of him in Candlefield, and my bosses believe he may have moved his operation to the human world.”

  “Is that likely?”

  “It’s possible. He probably can’t find anyone who’ll work with him here because of his reputation.”

  “Which of course no one would be aware of in the human world?”

  “Correct.”

  I held out the photograph.

  “Hang onto it, just in case. I’ve got plenty more.”

  “That’s not the only case we’re working on,” Blaze blurted out. “The black market for A-Juice has gone crazy as well.”

  “A-Juice?”

  Before either of them could elaborate, Daze’s phone rang. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She spat the words into the phone. “Why does that involve us? Okay. Okay. Yes, yes, we’ll come in now.”

  “What was all that about?” Blaze said when she’d finished on the call.

  “We’ve got to go to HQ straight away.”

  “Why? What’s happened now?”

  “Apparently, there have been numerous missing person reports.”

  “What do they expect us to do? We’re busy enough already.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Daze stood up, her face red with rage. “But you know what they say. If you want something doing, ask a busy woman. Sorry, Jill, we have to go.”

  “Good luck with everything.”

  ***

  I’d no sooner magicked myself back to Washbridge, than my phone rang. I didn’t recognise the caller ID; that usually meant it was either a personal injury lawyer touting for business, or someone peddling an unmissable investment opportunity. I was all set to tell them where to shove it when the female caller said, “Jill Maxwell? This is Freda Pearldiver.”

  Although Freda’s situation wasn’t exactly the same as mine, I still believed her experience might inform my decisions regarding Florence. And, hopefully, she would give me permission to speak to her daughter, Maxine.

  “Freda? Thanks for calling. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

  “The headmistress at CASS told me that you’d spoken to her. She said you thought it would help to talk to me.”

  “That’s right. I’d like to come and see you if you can spare me the time.”

  “I’d be more than happy to talk to you, Jill, but I have plans for the rest of the day. How about tomorrow afternoon? Does that work for you?”

  “That would be great.”

  “Okay. I’ll text you my address now. Shall we say one o’clock?”

  “Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

  It was clear that the police had dismissed Rusty’s report of a shooting as no more than the fanciful imagination of someone they considered to be a time-wasting nuisance.

  I wanted to take a look at the properties on the other side of the park, where the alleged shooting had taken place. As it was such a lovely day, I left my car on the street where Rusty lived and took a walk through the park. It was very quiet in there. In fact, I only encountered two people: The first, a middle-aged jogger who was running so slowly that I overtook him, even though I was only walking. The second, a woman in her mid-fifties, was walking five poodles. Surely five poodles were too many poodles for anyone.

  Even from the rear of the properties, I could tell that the houses were very similar to the one in which Rusty lived. The tall fence and streetlights that bordered the park would have made it very difficult for anyone to gain access to those houses without being noticed. I followed the fence until I came to another gate.

  I didn’t plan on calling at the house where the alleged shooting had taken place because by all accounts, the occupants had been rather upset when the police had called on them to discuss the so-called incident. I figured if I turned up on their doorstep, that would only stir up even more ill feeling towards Rusty. Instead, I intended to focus on the properties on either side.

  I started with the house to the left. I’d no sooner pressed the bell, than the door flew open. A young boy, no more than eight years old, was standing there. He had chocolate all around his mouth and even on his nose.

  “Hello?” he said. “I’m Roger.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Roger. Is your mummy or daddy in?”

  “Daddy’s at work. He’s a solicitor.”

  “Is your mummy in?”

  “She’s in the kitchen, making buns. She let me eat some chocolate cream out of the bowl.”

  “Do you think I could have a word with her, Roger?”

  “Who is it?” The female voice came from the back of the house.

  “It’s a lady, Mummy.”

  “What does she want?”

  “What do you want?” Roger asked me.

  “I’d like to talk to your mummy for a few minutes.”

  “She says she wants to talk to you for a few minutes.”

  His mother was wearing an apron covered in flour and chocolate cream.

  “If you’re selling anything, I’m afraid we don’t buy at the door.” Was her opening gambit.

  “I’m not selling anything.”

  “Roger, go and wash your face. You’ve got chocolate all over it.” She ushered him away. “If you aren’t selling anything, what do you want?”

  “My name is Jill Maxwell. I’m a private investigator.”

  “Was it my husband you wanted to see? He’s at work at the moment.”

  “No, I’m sure you’ll be able to answer my questions.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m investigating an alleged shooting that happened last week.”

  “A shooting?” She looked shocked. “Around here?”

  “There was a repo
rt of a shooting in the house next door.”

  “Now I come to think of it, I did see a police car out front a few days ago. I just assumed there’d been another burglary. We’ve had a few around here recently. Was someone shot?”

  “The police don’t seem to think so. In fact, when they spoke to your neighbours, they were told that no such shooting had taken place.”

  “In that case, why are you here?”

  “I’m working for the gentleman who witnessed the incident.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “I’m not at liberty to disclose his name, but he lives in one of the houses on the opposite side of the park.”

  “And he reckons he saw a shooting from that distance away?”

  “That’s right. I take it you didn’t hear anything unusual?”

  “No, and if there had been a gunshot, we would definitely have heard it because these walls are awfully thin. The only thing we hear from next door is their incessant arguing.”

  “Do they argue a lot?”

  “All the time.”

  “Can you tell me anything else about your neighbours?”

  “Not really. They moved in about three years ago. Since then, I’ve probably spoken to them no more than half a dozen times, and then only to say hello. They aren’t particularly sociable and to be honest, neither are we. In fact, everyone around here tends to keep themselves to themselves. Look, I really do have to get back to my baking.”

  “Of course. Thank you very much for your time.”

  So far, it wasn’t looking good for Rusty, but I wasn’t one to give up easily, so I moved to the house next door but one. This time, when I rang the doorbell, a window on the first floor opened, and an elderly man stuck his head out.

  “Are you the blind woman?”

  That struck me as a curious question. “Err, no.”

  “Are you sure? The man in the shop said the woman would be here to measure for the blinds about thirty minutes ago. Stay there. I’m coming down.”

  I heard footsteps on the stairs and then the door opened. “Are you sure you’re not the blind woman?”

  “Positive.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  “No, sorry.”