Witch Is When I Said Goodbye (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 10) (13 page)

“It is, but between you and me—” She looked around as though expecting someone else to be listening. “I only do it twice a day.”

“That’s understandable. Anyway, thanks for sparing me the time. I believe you were sitting next to the victim?”

“Yes, I was. The big stupid oaf.” She hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t say that now he’s dead, should I? He was taking up almost one and a half seats; I only just managed to squeeze on. I thought that once I sat down, he’d shuffle along a bit, but he didn’t. He just sat there; he never budged—I guess that’s because he was dead.”

“Could he have been dead when you sat down?”

“I don’t know; it’s possible. He didn’t speak and he didn’t move, so maybe he was. I hadn’t been sitting there long myself.”

“You didn’t see or hear a shot after you sat down?”

“No. It was only when I got fed up, and tried to get him to shuffle along that he fell head first onto the table. It scared me to death. And the blood ruined my skirt.”

“So you’ve got no idea who might have done it?”

“None at all. I didn’t see anything. I don’t think anyone did.” She checked her watch. “Look, if there’s nothing else, it’s time for me to turn all of these over.”

“Would you like a hand?”

“That would be great. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. It’s the least I can do.”

I spoke to the other two key witnesses, and they told a similar story. No one had actually seen anything, and no one had heard the gunshot because of the noise from the drums. The first anyone had known about the murder was when the man had fallen head first onto the table.

I was getting nowhere fast.

Chapter 15

Custard cream nirvana! Oh yeah!

I’d just bought a brand new packet, and I had the whole evening to myself. Of course, I’d have to regulate my consumption of the aforementioned custard creams. I definitely wouldn’t eat more than four of them—maybe five—six at the very most.

I’d only just settled down on the sofa when there was a knock at the door. Please don’t let it be Betty or Mr Ivers.

It was Horace. He really was a mountain of a man, and seemed even bigger now that he was standing directly in front of me.

“Horace? Is Grandma with you?”

“No. I’m alone. I hope you don’t mind me calling on you like this, unannounced.”

“Err. No. Of course not.”

“May I come in?”

“Sorry. Yes, of course. Would you like a cup of tea? Or coffee?”

“Nothing for me, thanks.” He looked around the living room, and for the longest moment, a silence seemed to hang in the air.

“Do you have relatives or friends in Washbridge, Horace?” I felt the need to break the awkward silence.

“No.”

“Business interests?”

“No. I spend as little time as possible in the human world.” He was staring straight at me now. “Why do
you
insist on living among
humans
, Jill?”

The question caught me completely off guard, and I was a little surprised by how much venom the word ‘humans’ seemed to carry.

“This is where I was raised. It’s all I knew until recently.”

“Don’t you feel vulnerable?”

I was beginning to.

“Not at all. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink?”

“No, thank you. Your grandmother tells me that you’re going to be the first level seven witch.”

Grandma said that? I was astonished.

“I’m not sure about that. I’ve still got a lot to learn.” My nervous laugh gave away just how uncomfortable I was beginning to feel.

“I sense a force within you, Jill. It’s very powerful.”

I had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

“A force like that shouldn’t be wasted.” His eyes were burning into me.

“Look,” I said. “I don’t want to be rude, but my sister is coming over.” I glanced at my watch. “Anytime now.”

“Kathy? How is she?”

“Very well, thanks.” How did he know Kathy’s name? Had Grandma told him? Probably.

“And those darling children, Mikey and Lizzie?” Horace continued. “Children are such a precious gift. Be sure to tell Kathy to look out for them. Danger lurks everywhere.”

“Sorry?”

“I won’t keep you.” He started for the door. “I’ll see you again soon, I’m sure.”

When he’d gone, I felt—I don’t know—dirty. What was that all about? I checked the door, to make sure it was locked. Then, I double-checked the French doors, too.

I’d lost my appetite—even for custard creams.

***

The next morning, I felt pretty ropey. I hadn’t slept well. I kept waking up and thinking about Horace’s surprise visit, and in particular his mention of Kathy and the kids. It was probably harmless. Of course it was harmless. He was just a little strange, but then he’d have to be to put up with Grandma.

Very little had been said in The Bugle about the murder victim other than his name: Joe Snow. And his occupation: an accountant. I’d tried to get hold of Tom Hawk to see if he could give me any more details, but he was either too busy to return my calls or he was ignoring me.

It didn’t take long to find an address for Snow’s accountancy practice. I was surprised to see that it was located in the seedier part of Washbridge. Accountants, solicitors and other professionals tended to have their offices in the more prestigious parts of the city centre.

As I’d expected, the building where Joe Snow’s office was located was fairly run down, and occupied mostly by small start-ups. His office was locked, and I was still trying to decide what to do when the door to the next office opened, and out walked a very tall man. He was at least six feet six, slim, and was wearing blue overalls stained with what I hoped was red ink.

“Are you looking for Joe?”

“Actually, no. I understand he was killed.”

“That’s right. Very strange affair. I read he got shot in that coffee shop; the one where they play triangles and drums.”

“Did you know him? Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Les Winters. We’d said ‘hello’ a few times. That’s all. He was never here.”

“How do you mean?”

“Between you and me, this isn’t really his office.”

“It’s the address given for his accountancy business.”

He glanced around in case anyone was listening. “He wasn’t really an accountant.”

“How do you mean? What
did
he do then?”

“I don’t suppose it matters if I tell you now. I only found out by chance. He was actually a—what would you call it? A loan shark. He lent money to people. The interest rates he charged were ridiculous. Just out of curiosity, I once asked him about borrowing some money. I could do with a new printing press, but not at the rates he was charging. He always seemed pleasant enough, but from what I understand, he could be a nasty piece of work. He was okay if you paid on time, but if you didn’t, you were in big trouble. He had a reputation for violence.”

“You said this isn’t really his office. Does that mean he had another office somewhere else?”

“I shouldn’t really say.”

“He’s hardly going to complain now, is he?”

“That’s true. He did once ask me to forward some mail to him. I have the address in my office, I think. Would you like me to go and look for it?”

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”

He disappeared back inside. So, Joe Snow had been a loan shark with a reputation for violence. This was becoming more and more interesting.

“There you go.” The man passed me a slip of paper. “You won’t tell anybody I gave it to you, will you?”

“My lips are sealed.”

Joe Snow’s real office was in downtown Washbridge. A much more upmarket area than the office I’d just visited. This building was very modern, and had a security guard at the desk on the ground floor.

If I walked nonchalantly by, maybe the security guard would assume I worked in one of the offices.

“Excuse me, madam. Excuse me!”

Drat!

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Where are you going?”

“To room three-one-eight.”

“Where’s your ID badge?”

“I left it on my desk.”

“Sorry, madam. No ID, no entry.”

“But I need to get back to the office.”

“You’ll have to phone them, and get someone to bring your badge down to you.”

“But I’ll be late.”

“Sorry, madam. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

The man wasn’t to be moved, but while we were talking, I noticed a number of photographs on the wall behind him. One of them was of the manager of the building, another was of the Assistant Manager, and the final one was of the Head of Security. I memorised the latter’s face, made an excuse, and then left the building.

I waited for a few minutes before casting the ‘doppelganger’ spell which made me look like the Head of Security. This time, when I walked toward the desk, I got a very different reaction from the security guard.

“Good afternoon, Mr Carruthers.” He practically saluted me. “I had no idea you were coming in today.”

“I like to pay a surprise visit from time to time. Keeps the staff on their toes. How are things?”

“Everything’s fine, sir. Absolutely fine.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, sir. No problems at all.”

“Good. Well you won’t mind if I have a quick look around, then?”

“No, sir. I’ll accompany you.”

“I’d rather do it alone. You stay here. I’ll let you know if anything’s not to my liking.”

“Yes, sir. Certainly, sir.”

That was easier than I’d expected. Once in the lift, I reversed the spell.

The door to room three-one-eight was locked. After I’d checked that the coast was clear, I cast the ‘power’ spell, and forced the door open—breaking the lock as I did. Once inside, I cast the ‘take it back’ spell to return the lock to its original state.

The office was practically bare. There was a single leather chair, a metal desk, and behind those, a filing cabinet. I’d expected to find a computer, but there was nothing of that nature.

I tried the drawers of the filing cabinet; they weren’t locked. Presumably Joe Snow didn’t expect anyone to find his office, and certainly not to get past security, and through a locked door. The top drawer was empty. There were a few books in the middle drawer, but nothing of any interest. The bottom drawer contained a single large book; it was some sort of ledger.

I flicked through the pages. This was obviously where Joe Snow kept his record of debtors and payments. He presumably didn’t trust computers or the internet. It was all very old-school; all hand written. I flicked through to the letter ‘T’, and soon found what I was looking for: Tony Tuck, the manager of Coffee Triangle. And it didn’t make pretty reading. Tony had borrowed twelve thousand pounds, and although I was no accountant, it appeared that his payments were way overdue. When Tony Tuck realised that he couldn’t make the payments, he must have feared for his safety because, if Les Winters was to be believed, Joe Snow could be a violent man.

But even if that was motive enough for Tony Tuck to commit murder, it didn’t explain how he’d done it. And more importantly, where was the murder weapon? Without that, I had nothing.

***

I decided to take a look at the house that Amber and William were thinking of buying. Just as Amber had said, it wasn’t far from Cuppy C. From the outside, at least, it was delightful, but I’d forgotten to ask Amber where I could get hold of the key to take a look inside.

I walked around to the back of the house, and took a look through one of the windows. The kitchen looked very new, but I doubted Amber would be doing much cooking. On a whim, I tried the back door, and to my surprise, it opened. I knew the house wasn’t occupied because Amber had told me that it was vacant possession. The previous owner had moved to the human world. So, why was the door unlocked?

It couldn’t do any harm to take a quick look inside.

I walked through the kitchen into a small hallway. The carpet was horrible; a swirl of red, brown and green—not exactly easy on the eye. But that could easily be replaced. Amber had mentioned that the previous owner had left some furniture in the living room, which was going to be included in the sale. No wonder they were leaving it behind; it was ghastly.

Just then, I heard footsteps and voices coming from upstairs. Whoops! It hadn’t occurred to me that someone else might be looking around the house. That would explain the unlocked door. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs. I had to get out before they saw me. I was almost at the back door when I heard a familiar voice.

“Jill? Is that you?”

I turned around to see Pearl and Alan; they both looked rather puzzled.

“What are
you
doing here?” Pearl said. “How did you know we were here?”

“Err—I—”

“Does Amber know we’re here?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You mustn’t tell her.”

“Okay.”

“So how
did
you know we were here?”

“I didn’t. I was just viewing houses.”

“Are you looking for a house in Candlefield too?”

“Not seriously. Not at the moment, anyway. I’m quite happy with the flat above Cuppy C, but I was at a bit of a loose end, so I thought I’d check out the local housing market. Just in case I do decide to buy one day.”

“Well, you can’t have this house.” Pearl grinned. “We love it. Don’t we, Alan?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Hi, Alan,” I said. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I’ve been busy working lots of overtime.”

“We’ve been saving up.” Pearl put her arm through Alan’s. “We’ve been planning to get our own house for ages. I can’t wait to get away from Amber. She drives me insane. You know what she’s like, Jill.”

I smiled. The irony.

“You mustn’t say anything to her. We don’t want her to know that we’ve bought the house until it’s all sorted. You won’t say anything, will you?”

“Of course not. Are you going to put in an offer for this place?”

“Yes, it’s the best one we’ve seen by a long chalk, isn’t it Alan?”

“Yes. Best by far.”

“You’re not thinking of putting in an offer too, are you, Jill?” Pearl looked a little worried.

“No. Definitely not.”