Witch Is When I Said Goodbye (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 10) (10 page)

Chapter 11

The next morning, Jasper James was behind the counter at the newsagent. As always, he was wearing his trademark fedora—today’s was green.

“Good morning, Jill! What can I do for you this beautiful morning?”

“I’m after a copy of The Bugle. I want to see what they have to say about the shooting in Coffee Triangle. Did you hear about it?”

“I did indeed. Terrible affair. Quite a few people have bought The Bugle this morning for that very reason. Would you like to make it a regular order? I can have it delivered to your flat if you like.”

“No, thanks. I’m not a big fan of this paper.”

“What about a magazine. I know just the thing for you.”

“I doubt it.”

“How about Witch Magazine?”

Wow! This man was good.

“You must have heard of it. It’s the leading consumer magazine—they review all kinds of stuff: broadband, mobile phones, pogo sticks. You name it, they cover it.”

“Ah, you mean ‘Which’?”

“That’s right. Would you like me to sign you up for a subscription?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks.”

The Bugle didn’t disappoint. It had the usual ridiculous headline:
‘Bang the Drum’
. There wasn’t a great deal of substance to the article, but they had managed to interview the woman who’d been sitting opposite the victim. According to her, the man had fallen face first onto the table. It seems that everyone thought he was drunk, but then someone noticed the blood, and realised that he’d been shot. No one heard the gunshot or saw a gun. Tom Hawk, the detective in charge of the case, had appealed for anyone with information to come forward.

***

In a moment of madness, I’d agreed to spend the day with Daze. I still couldn’t see myself as a Rogue Retriever, but the P.I. business was slow, and according to Daze, Rogue Retrievers were well paid, and it was steady work. I owed it to myself to at least give it a shot.

We’d arranged to meet in the market square in Candlefield, by a cake shop called ‘Temptation’. It was aptly named because the window was full of delicious looking muffins and cupcakes. I hoped Daze would hurry up because I didn’t think I could resist them for much longer.

“Jill! Sorry I’m late.” Daze appeared behind me.

“Hi, Daze. Oh? Hi, Blaze. I hadn’t realised you’d be joining us today. So, what’s the plan?” I said, with one eye still on the cake shop.

“Not eating blueberry muffins, for a start.” Daze had seen me staring at them.

“Sorry, yeah. What will we be doing, then?”

“First off, we need to call at a shop a couple of streets from here. Follow me.”

The sign above the shop read
‘Cat’s Suits’
.

“Shouldn’t that be catsuits?” I said.

“No.” Daze laughed. “The owner’s name is Catherine. Everyone calls her Cat, and she sells suits—hence: Cat’s Suits. But she also has a range of catsuits as well.”

What a weird world I lived in.

Cat was a fine figure of a woman, and could easily have been a Rogue Retriever herself. She greeted Daze and Blaze like long lost friends.

“Hey, Blaze. Are you still interested in those luminous catsuits you asked me about?”

Daze shot Blaze a disapproving look.

“Luminous catsuits?” Blaze shook his head, and did his best to look as though he had no idea what Cat was talking about.

“You asked me about them last week.”

“Me? No, that wasn’t me. You must be confusing me with someone else.”

Cat looked puzzled. She obviously wasn’t aware that Daze didn’t appreciate Blaze’s taste in the more outlandish catsuits.

“Cat, can I introduce you to Jill Gooder?” Daze said. “She splits her time between here and Washbridge where she’s a private investigator.”

“That must be interesting work.”

“Yes. It can be.”

“Jill is spending a day with us to see if she’d like to become a Rogue Retriever.”

“That’s something of an honour, Jill,” Cat said. “I expect you’ll find it very exciting. A bit dangerous though, but I suppose in your line of business you’re used to that.”

“Yes, I’m quite excited.” Terrified more like.

“Well, first things first,” Daze said. “You need to pick out a catsuit.”

“For me?”

“Of course! You can’t possibly enjoy the full Rogue Retriever experience unless you’re dressed properly.”

Cat led me towards the back of the shop where there was a vast selection of catsuits in every colour known to man.

“I quite like the green one. The dark green one that is—not the luminous one, obviously.”

Daze gave me a nod of approval.

I went through to the changing room, slipped out of my clothes and into the catsuit. It was a tight fit, and pinched a little, but it looked okay.

“What do you think?” I stepped out of the changing room.

Daze gave me a thumbs up.

“Green is definitely your colour,” Blaze said.

To complete the outfit, Daze gave me a mesh net which was similar to the one that I’d seen her use numerous times to capture rogue sups.

“Give it a try!” she said.

“Really? On what?”

“On Blaze.”

“Hold on a minute!” he objected.

I quite liked the idea, so I threw it over him and sure enough he disappeared.

“Don’t worry about him.” Daze laughed. “He’ll be back in a minute or two.”

***

I was just beginning to think how good I looked in the green catsuit when Daze told me that I had to get changed.

“Why what’s wrong with this?”

“Nothing, but we have to go undercover. We’re on the trail of a rogue wizard. Blaze and I have been after him for ages. I’ve just had a tip off that he’s due to do his weekly shop in the Seven Days supermarket in Washbridge.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You and Blaze will be stacking shelves. I’ll be working on the checkout.”

“Typical,” Blaze said under his breath.

“Pardon?” Daze glared at him.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

We magicked ourselves over to Washbridge, and as we made our way to the supermarket, Blaze whispered to me, “She always gives herself the best jobs.”

“Don’t let her hear you.”

“Maybe I should have taken that job with Taze.” He sighed.

“My ears are burning.” Daze looked over her shoulder. “Is he moaning about getting all the bad jobs again?”

“No. He was just saying what a good boss you are.”

“Now, I know you’re lying.”

The manager at the supermarket seemed to be expecting us. Somehow, with practically no notice, Daze had managed to get us onto the payroll.

Daze was on the checkout nearest to the door, so she could watch people coming and going. Blaze and I were given trollies, full of goods that we had to put on the shelves. I’d never realised just how hard stacking shelves could be. I’d always thought it looked like a cushy job. Trust me, it wasn’t.

By late afternoon, I was exhausted. My back and legs were aching, and I desperately needed to sit down. But then, suddenly, Daze came flying around the corner, in pursuit of a man. It was obviously the rogue wizard, and he was headed my way. I waited until he was just a few feet away, then pulled out the net, and threw it over him. He disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Well done, Jill,” Daze said. “Great catch.”

“Thanks. What do we do now?”

“You’d better come back to Candlefield with me. You can help to process him, so you get to see exactly what’s involved.”

Back in Candlefield, the wizard was behind bars and looking none too happy.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he protested. “I don’t know why you’ve brought me here.”

“Save it for someone who cares.” Daze waved his complaints away. As promised, she showed me how to complete the paperwork, which was then passed to the officer on duty.

“So?” Daze said when the three of us were back in Washbridge. “How did you enjoy your day?”

“It was very tiring, and a little boring for the most part, but it livened up when we caught the wizard.”

“That’s how it tends to be. It can be quiet for hours, but then it’s all go. So what do you think? Can I sign you up as a Rogue Retriever?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Daze. It’s really not for me.”

“I thought you’d jump at the chance. Is it the catsuit you don’t like? You could always have a different colour.”

“No. I love the outfit. In fact, if it’s all the same to you I’d like to hang onto it.”

“Of course. But what about the money? It pays well, and I know you’re struggling with the rent.”

“You’re right, but there’s just too much standing around, doing nothing. I’d be bored out of my skull.”

“Okay. But if you change your mind.”

“I’ll give you a call.”

***

After I’d left Daze and Blaze, I called in at the office to check if there had been any messages, and to feed Winky who I found playing with a yo-yo. I hadn’t seen one of those since I was about ten years old.

“What are you doing?”

“Splitting the atom. What does it look like?”

Remind me again. Why did I put up with this cat?

“Yo-yos are for small children, aren’t they? They’re so boring. Up and down, up and down—yawn!”

“Not when you’re a grand master, like me. Watch! This is called ‘the sleeper’.” He threw the yo-yo towards the ground. At its lowest point, it seemed to stall, as though it was sleeping, and then it shot back up. “Did you see how I made it sleep?”

“Huh. Anyone can do that.” The last time I’d played with a yo-yo, I could barely get it to go up and down, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Okay, what about this one, then? This one’s called ‘the forward pass’.”

This time he threw the yo-yo out in front of him, and back it came. Then, out in front of him again, and back it came again.

“Pah!” I mocked. “Nothing special about that.”

“Okay, well what about this? This is called ‘around the world’.”

He threw the yo-yo out in front of him, but then sent it in a huge arc before catching it again.

“Hmm? Not bad, I suppose.”

I was actually really impressed, but there was no way I was going to tell him that.

“Not bad? That was brilliant. Watch this one.”

He threw the yo-yo to the side, and when it came back, he caught the string on his other paw, and let the yo-yo swing left and right, left and right, and then it shot back up and he caught it.

“Okay. I admit that was good. What do you call that trick?”

“That’s ‘the trapeze’.”

“So anyway, why the sudden interest in yo-yos?”

“I became a yo-yo grand master years ago, but I’m a little rusty. I need to get back up to speed before the competition.”

“Which competition?”

“The Feline Yo-Yo Masters’ competition.”

“When’s that?”

“Soon. I’ll need you to provide transport for me, obviously.”

“I might be busy.”

“I’ll give you a share of the prize money.”

“How much is it?”

“Two thousand pounds for first place.”

“Two thousand pounds?”

“Yep.”

“And, do you have a good chance of winning?”

“The money’s as good as mine already.”

“Okay, we’ll split it fifty-fifty.”

“Eighty-twenty,” he countered.

“Sixty-forty.”

“I’ll give you thirty percent, and that’s my final offer.”

“Okay. Done.”

Chapter 12

I thought I’d better check how things were going at Ever, and if the new competition had affected takings.

The shop was still very quiet, but the tea room was absolutely buzzing. When I managed to catch up with Kathy, she looked even more harassed than usual.

“It’s crazy in here, Jill. Absolutely crazy!”

“How come? What’s going on?”

“It’s because Coffee Triangle is closed. A lot of the people who would normally go in there have come in here instead because we’re just up the road. Look at those people over there. They’re drumming the tables with knitting needles because they’re missing their fix of drums. Takings are through the roof.”

“Grandma must be pleased.”

“Not that you’d notice. She’s still seething about the competition across the road.”

“My ears are burning.” Grandma appeared at our side.

“Good morning, Grandma, I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you interrupting my staff again?”

“I was just having a few words with my sister, if that’s okay?”

“Just make sure you’re quick about it. We’re really busy in the tea room today.”

“So I see. Terrible business at Coffee Triangle.”

“Not so terrible for us. We’re going to have a record day.”

“That’s a bit heartless, Grandma; a man was killed.”

“Yeah, well, business is business. Just don’t spend too long chatting. There are customers to attend to.” With that, she disappeared.

“That woman is all heart.” I shook my head in disbelief.

“What did you expect?”

A horrible thought crossed my mind. Grandma was completely ruthless when it came to business, but surely even she would draw the line at murder just to close down a competitor. Wouldn’t she?

If not, Miles and Mindy had better watch out.

***

I knew I had to heed Mad’s warning. Battery might not have the strength to attack me just yet, but if I ignored the threat, he soon would have. I’d rather confront him on my terms, at a time and place of my choosing, rather than have him creep up on me out of the blue. I intended to end this right now, and to do that I’d have to confront him in the house which had once belonged to his ex-girlfriend, Hilary Vicars.

The next door neighbour was out in the garden. At first, I thought she was weeding, but then I realised she was actually having a conversation with the garden gnomes.

Oh boy!

“I don’t care if you’re cold, Harold, you can’t come in the house. Look at Angela; she isn’t complaining, is she? Oh dear, John, have those horrible cats been peeing on you again?”

“Hello?” I tried to catch her eye.

She straightened, and began to rub her back.

“Hello, dear. I didn’t see you there. I was busy seeing to my little ones.”

“Right.”

“They’re such hard work. Do you have any?”

“Gnomes?”

“Shush! Don’t call them that. They don’t like it.”

“Sorry. No, I don’t have any.”

“Take my advice. Don’t start. You buy one. Then another. And, before you know it, you’re overrun with them. They take over your life.”

“I’ll remember that.” I’d have to make this quick before someone realised this woman had escaped. “Does Hilary Vicars still live next door?”

“No, dear. Hilary moved out some time ago. The cat lady lives there now.”

“Cat lady?”

“She’s got thousands of them. Noisy, smelly things. They’re always peeing on the little ones—especially John. Between you and me, he’s beginning to smell.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You don’t happen to know if she’s in, do you?”

“Who?”

“The cat—the woman next door?”

“She’s in most of the time, dear. Never goes anywhere. Just to the shops to buy cat food occasionally.”

After I’d thanked her, she returned to the conversation with her little ones. Note to self: Never buy a garden gnome.

When I knocked on her neighbour’s door, a thousand cats began to meow. After a few moments, an old woman answered the door; her grey hair looked as though it hadn’t seen a brush since Woodstock.

“What do you want?” Her breath smelled of tuna. “I saw you talking to the gnome lady. Has she been complaining about me again?”

“No. I—”

“She’s crazy that one. Talks to them, you know—calls them her little ones. I keep my doors locked—you never know, do you?”

“I’m actually from the cat sanctuary.”

Her scowl changed to a smile. “Oh, right. How can I help you?”

“I’m collecting old clothes and bric a brac. Anything really that we can sell at the jumble sale. All proceeds go to the cat sanctuary. I wondered if there was anything you could let us have?”

“I’m sure there is, dear. I’m always happy to help the local cat charities. Do come in. I’ll see what I can sort out for you.”

There were cats everywhere, and I had to tread carefully to avoid stepping on any of them. The place smelled strongly of cat, but to be fair they all seemed to be well cared for.

“Why don’t you go through to the lounge, dear. I’ll go upstairs, and sort out some stuff for you.”

“Okay. Thanks very much.”

The last time I’d been in that room, I’d interviewed Hilary Vicars and her ugly boyfriend, Battery. But now, it was full of cats, and they were all eyeing me suspiciously. A few of them rubbed around my legs; others had their backs arched, and were hissing.

“Come on, Battery,” I said, out loud. “I know you’re here. Come out and face me.”

Nothing.

“Come on. Show that ugly face of yours if you dare.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped, and all of the cats began to hiss.

“Come on, Battery. You’re not afraid of a woman, are you?”

And there he was; larger than death, and even uglier than I remembered.

“I’m going to finish you!” he yelled.

“You always did talk a good game.”

“It’s your fault I’m dead. Why didn’t you just keep your nose out. No one cared about Hills’ mother.”

“The colonel did. And, I’m pretty sure Hilary did too.”

He moved closer, and reached for my neck. Was it possible for a ghost to strangle me? If Mad didn’t hurry up, I’d soon find out. Battery’s hands were almost on my neck when, right on cue, Mad burst through the door. She lassoed him first time, and he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Mad. I owe you one.”

“No problem. You won’t have to worry about him again, Jill. All his haunting privileges will be revoked. I’d better get back to Ghost Town to book him in. See you around.”

“Bye, Mads, and thanks again.”

The cats were still hissing and spitting when the old lady came back downstairs, carrying a pile of clothes.

“What’s the matter with this lot?” She glanced around. “They seem to have taken against you.”

“Cats never did like me.”

“Strange that you would choose to work at the cat sanctuary, then.”

She tried to pass me the clothes.

“I’ve just had a phone call while you were upstairs. It seems there’s a bit of a feline emergency. There’s a cat stuck down a drain—I need to go and rescue him. Can I call around tomorrow to pick these up?”

“Yes, of course. We can’t leave the poor fellow down a drain, can we?”

***

The outer office was crowded. It was Mrs V’s weekly knitting class, which she held at lunchtime for the staff of Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but there seemed to be more and more people attending every week. She really should have charged for the lessons. She would probably have made more money from knitting lessons than I could ever afford to pay her.

There were so many chairs squeezed into such a small space that it was a struggle to make my way through to my office.

“Hello, Jill,” a few of the knitters greeted me. I’d come to know some of the regulars.

“Hi, everyone. How’s it going?”

A few of them held up their latest knitting project. Mrs V was some kind of hero in their eyes, and rightly so.

As I passed by Mrs V’s desk, she held up her hand to catch my attention. “Jill, can I have a quiet word in your office, please?”

“Sure. Come on through.”

We managed to pick our way through the throng of knitters. Once inside my office, she pushed the door closed behind her. All very cloak and dagger.

“This might sound strange,” she said, in little more than a whisper. “But I think Gordon Armitage is spying on us.”

The thought that he would spy on us wasn’t all that strange; he’d bugged my office before. Armitage had wanted me out ever since he’d moved in next door, but that was never going to happen despite his numerous attempts to get me evicted.

“How do you mean?”

“I think he’s infiltrated the knitting class.”

“I don’t follow. How do you mean
infiltrated
?”

“I think he’s out there right now—dressed as a woman. It’s obviously him. He’s not fooling anyone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. He’s over by the door. You can check for yourself.”

“Okay. We’ll go back out there. But act casual. Let’s not draw attention to ourselves.”

I followed Mrs V into the outer office, picked up a file, and pretended to read it. I was actually looking over the top of the file, towards where Mrs V had said the infiltrator was sitting. I spotted him straight away. It was quite obviously Gordon Armitage. He was wearing a ridiculous wig, and his dress was a terrible fit. Did he really think he could fool a private investigator of my calibre with that poor excuse for a disguise?

This simply wasn’t on. He’d caused me enough problems already. I wasn’t about to let him sit in my office, and spy on me, so I walked across the room and stood directly in front of him.

“How did you ever think this would fool anyone, Gordon?”

He looked up—clearly surprised. He obviously hadn’t expected me to rumble him so easily.

“Did you really think you could pass yourself off as a woman with that ugly mug of yours?”

Then he did something that took me totally by surprise. He burst into tears. He was surely taking this a bit too far?

“You can forget the act, Gordon. The game is up. I know it’s you. Why don’t you take your sorry backside back to your office where it belongs?”

He was crying inconsolably now, and I almost felt sorry for him, but I still wanted him out of there. I was about to tap him on the shoulder, and tell him to be on his way when the outer office door burst open. I turned around to see Gordon Armitage standing there. I glanced back and forth between the two Gordon Armitages—one standing in the doorway, and the other crying inconsolably in the seat in front of me.

It was the Gordon Armitage standing next to the door who spoke first.

“What’s going on in here? Rebecca! What are you doing here? No sister of mine is going to spend time in this office.”

The crying Gordon Armitage looked up. His eyes - or should I say,
her
eyes - were blotchy and red. Rebecca? It was Gordon’s sister.

“Don’t worry, Gordon,” she said, through her tears. “I’ll never come back here again. I’ve never been so insulted in all my life.”

“I’m very sorry,” I said. “I thought—”

“Get out of my way.” She pushed me aside. “Wait for me, Gordon. I won’t stay in this place another second. I should have listened to you. You were right. She
is
a horrible woman!”

With that, the two of them left.

Everyone stared at me as though I was some kind of monster. And, who could blame them?

Oh bum!