Witch Is When It All Began (10 page)

Chapter 14

The next morning, I was able to recall all of the spells that I’d tried to commit to memory the previous day. Result!

I planned to get to the police station at around ten o’clock because I figured they would have completed their morning briefings by then. I considered calling in at the office first, but I couldn’t face the Mrs V and Winky show. Instead, as it was such a beautiful morning, I took a walk through the local park, which was always quiet at that time of day.

A middle-aged man out for a jog bid me ‘good morning’ as he passed by. I waited until he was about a hundred yards ahead, and then cast the ‘faster’ spell. As soon as I took the first step, the spell kicked in and I shot past the jogger so quickly he didn’t even see me. When I reached the gates, I waited. A few seconds later he appeared.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning?” The look on his face was priceless. I felt a little guilty for having used the spell for such a trivial thing. Maybe there was some kind of witch’s code that stated that magic should only be used for good and worthy causes. Hopefully not. I didn’t want to get a reputation as a bad witch.

Just as I’d hoped, the car park at the police station was almost empty. My biggest concern was the time factor. Once I’d cast the ‘invisible’ spell, I’d have only ten minutes. Any longer than that, and I’d have some explaining to do. I ignored the public entrance at the front of the building. Instead, I made my way around the back and waited near to the large metal barrier. This entrance was used by official police vehicles. Because time was at a premium, I didn’t want to cast the spell a second sooner than I had to. I watched the traffic until I saw what I was waiting for. A patrol car was indicating to turn into the police station. I cast the spell or at least I hoped I had. Had it worked? I could still see myself, but I knew that was always the case. When the police car came to a halt at the barrier, I stepped forward to check if I could see my reflection in the side window. Result! Hey, I was getting good at this witch stuff. I followed the car into the car park, and waited for the officers to make their way inside the building. When one of them punched the four digit code into the lock, I memorised the keys—the combination might come in handy in the future. The door was on a powerful spring and I had to be quick to sneak inside with them before it sprang closed.

There was no time to lose. Although I’d been to the police station before, I’d never been further than the interview rooms. I took the first flight of stairs I came to, and then made my way along the corridor. Three doors in, I hit pay dirt. The sign on the door read ‘Jack Maxwell’. Was he in? I knocked. There was no reply and no movement inside. I made sure the corridor was clear, and then tried the handle. Bingo! The door wasn’t locked. This was going far better than I could have hoped.

Whoops! Spoke too soon. I’d only taken a few steps into his office when I heard the door handle turn behind me. My instinct was to dive for cover, but then I remembered there was no need. I was invisible.

“Is someone following up on that?” Jack Maxwell said.

“Yes, sir.” The second man was taller, and several years younger than Maxwell. “Mike Jones is on his way over to see him now.”

“What do you reckon?” Maxwell asked.

“I don’t know. I thought we’d dismissed the ‘animal’ connection, sir?”

“Let’s see what Mike comes up with.”

Maxwell turned around and was now facing me. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, it was still incredibly unnerving. I checked my watch. I still had another six minutes of invisibility.

“Where’s the meeting?” Maxwell was so close now that I could have reached out and stroked his face. What? I only said that to illustrate how close he was—not because I actually wanted to stroke his face. Sheesh! I hated the man, remember?

“Incident room three, sir.”

“Okay. Let’s get up there.”

On a hunch, I followed the two men out of the room and up one flight of stairs. The rooms on this floor were much larger and had windows that looked out onto a central corridor. The two men entered incident room three—I followed. On the back wall, was a huge whiteboard with ‘Lyon/Lamb/Fox?’ written across the top. I took the ‘?’ after Caroline Fox’s name to indicate the uncertainty as to whether or not the third murder was related to the first two. Below the names were a number of photographs—none of them made easy viewing. It was obvious from these that Mrs Lyon and Mrs Lamb had both died from multiple stab wounds to their upper body. The third victim, my client’s girlfriend, had been strangled—there was clear bruising to the neck.

I was running out of time. If the spell ran out while I was still in the incident room, I’d be arrested and Maxwell would throw the book at me, but I couldn’t leave until I had all the information I needed.

Ninety seconds left. Come on! Think! I needed somewhere to hide until I could use the ‘invisible’ spell again. But where? There was a cupboard over to my left, but how was I supposed to get into it unnoticed? I had little faith in the police, but even they would notice a door opening by itself.

One minute left! How was I going to explain my presence? More to the point—how was I going to explain appearing out of thin air? I wasn’t sure which laws I’d broken, but you could bet your life Jack Maxwell would know, and he’d take great pleasure in locking me up, and throwing away the key.

Thirty seconds left! The room was set out in a classroom style with rows of tables that faced a long desk at the front. I hurried to the front, and ducked underneath the desk.

There was just enough room for me to squeeze in—I had my knees clamped tight against my chest.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. The spell had run its course and I was visible again. It felt as though my heart was about to burst out of my chest. I waited—half-expecting someone to say ‘who’s that under the desk’, but no one did—the modesty board had saved me.

Jack Maxwell, who was standing at the front of the room, to the left of the desk, began to address the members of his team.

“Okay. A quick recap for the benefit of those who have just joined this case. The first victim was Mrs Pauline Lyon—husband—Geoffrey Lyon. She died from multiple stab wounds inflicted by a thin bladed instrument. The second victim was Trisha Lamb—husband—Harry Lamb. She also died from multiple stab wounds which were inflicted by a similar weapon. We believe that the same man may have been responsible for both of these murders.”

He moved towards the centre of the whiteboard and was now standing directly in front of the desk; a mere two feet from where I was hiding. I pushed myself further back into the space trying to make my body as small as possible.

That’s when I spotted them.

Jack Maxwell, the tough, arrogant asshat of a detective was wearing Tweety Pie socks. I clamped my hand tight over my mouth. If I laughed I’d be a dead woman.

“This is Caroline Fox,” he continued. “So far there is nothing to connect her murder to the other two. The cause of death was strangulation. The press and others have been trying to push the notion of a serial killer because of the women’s surnames, but so far there’s nothing to link this third murder. However, we’re keeping an open mind.”

For the next ten minutes, the detectives who had been on the case for some time ran through what they had done so far. If they were throwing this much manpower at the investigation, they must have been under considerable pressure to make an arrest. I listened to what everyone had to say. The bottom line seemed to be that, so far, they had drawn a blank. They obviously had no idea who was behind any of the murders—serial killer or not.

Maxwell stepped forward, so he was right next to the desk. His socks looked even more hilarious close to.

Oh no! Why had my body chosen now to betray me? The toes on my right foot were beginning to cramp. I tried wiggling them, but that only seemed to make it worse. I needed to stand up, so I could get the blood circulating again, but if I did that I’d be the one who’d be out of circulation, for a very long time. Banged up in prison.

Luckily, the cramp passed after a few seconds. Maybe I was going to get away with this after all. Another five minutes, and I’d be able to cast the spell again.

“Okay? Anyone have any questions?” Maxwell asked, as he disappeared to my left.

It took a few seconds for me to realise what the noise was, and then I saw the chair. He was wheeling it towards the desk. I was done for. As soon as he sat at the desk his feet would touch me. What would I say? I was pretty good at talking my way out of awkward situations, but this? The chair was opposite the desk now. Any moment now he’d sit down. I was as good as dead.

The door opened.

“Sir, I think you’ll want to see this,” a male voice said.

“Okay everyone. We’ll call this a wrap and convene again tomorrow at nine a.m. unless anything significant comes up before then.”

The room filled with the sound of chairs being pushed under tables. Maxwell moved out of my field of vision, and I heard him say. “Let’s take this down to my office, Mike.”

I stayed where I was until I was able to cast the spell again. Once invisible, I crawled out from under the desk; my legs felt like jelly. The incident room was deserted, so I spent as long as I dared reading through the notes on the whiteboard. A few snippets of information caught my eye:

- The description of the suspect had been provided by a neighbour. A seventy year old woman who, according to the notes, had fading eye sight.

- As well as bruising to the neck, Caroline Fox had bruising and cuts on one of her fingers. She also had a small, circular puncture mark just below her left ear.

- Danny Peterson had been at his brother’s house when Caroline Fox was murdered. I assumed it was this alibi that had eliminated him as a suspect.

Once I was sure the corridor outside was clear, I left the incident room and retraced my steps down to the ground floor. Time was running out. I had to make my escape quickly or I’d be in deep doo-doo. It was too risky to leave the same way as I’d come in, because if the spell wore off before I got through the barrier, I’d be spotted for sure.

I headed for the front desk where two police officers were on duty. One officer was attending to a rather noisy middle-aged woman who wanted to know if he was going to find her ‘Alfie’. Who Alfie was, I had no idea. And, judging by the expression on the officer’s face, he didn’t much care. The other officer was talking to a young woman who’d had her handbag ‘nicked’. There was just enough room for me to squeeze between the two officers, but I had to be careful when I jumped off the counter, so that I didn’t collide with those queuing to be seen.

As I reached the outer door, I saw my reflection in the glass. The spell had worn off again.

“What are you doing here?” Jack Maxwell’s voice froze me to the spot. I turned around to find him standing behind the counter. Had he seen me appear out of thin air?

“I came to see you,” I said with all the confidence I could muster.

“I told you on the phone that I have nothing to say to you.”

Everyone was staring at me.

“I only need a few minutes of your time.” I moved closer to the counter, and was now wedged between the middle-aged woman looking for Alfie, and the young woman who’d had her handbag stolen.

“Do you have any new information relating to the case?” Maxwell asked.

“No, but—”

“Then you’re wasting my time,” he said, before disappearing into the back.

I shrugged, and started back to the door.

“Don’t worry, love,” an old man wearing a flat cap said, as I walked by him. “Useless this lot. All of them.”

That was a close call. Maxwell had seen me by the door and must have assumed I was on my way into the building. His attitude was really starting to annoy me now—who did he think he was? A little co-operation wouldn’t hurt anyone. And what was with those socks?

Chapter 15

What crisis would be waiting for me at the office this time? It was only a matter of time before Mrs V strangled Winky with one of her scarves. What a pair. Mrs V I’d inherited from my dad, but Winky—I had only myself to blame for him.

I took a short-cut through the alleyway between the supermarket and the cinema. It was a route I often took during daylight hours. Midway along the alley, I began to regret my decision. A thick fog descended from nowhere, and I was struggling to see the ground in front of me. I’m not usually the nervous type, but this freaked me out. It wasn’t just the lack of visibility; something else didn’t feel right. It was the silence—an unnatural silence. The alleyway ran between two busy streets, and yet I couldn’t hear any voices or traffic.

I
could
hear footsteps though. Someone, maybe more than one person, was coming my way. I stood perfectly still—waiting. The footsteps grew louder. I strained my eyes trying to see something. Anything.

The hooded figure, dressed in a grey cloak, stood at least seven feet tall. The hood hung low over his face so I could see no more than a chiselled chin. More footsteps—behind me this time. I spun around to see another hooded figure. I was trapped. I instinctively knew these must be the ‘Followers’ that Aunt Lucy and my mother had warned me about.

I edged back until I was leaning against the supermarket wall. I had to focus. My first thought was to use the ‘invisible’ spell, but it was less than thirty minutes since I’d used it last. I wasn’t convinced the ‘faster’ or ‘power’ spells would be any good against these adversaries. My one hope was the ‘lightning bolt.’ I had to get this right first time if I was going to see off both of them.

The Follower on my right was closest to me. I cast the spell and pointed my finger at his chest. The force of the lightning bolt still took me by surprise. He let out an ear-piercing scream as he imploded before my eyes. I turned quickly to face my other assailant, but I was too slow. He was only a few feet away, and would be on me before I had time to cast the spell. Pity. I was beginning to enjoy being a witch. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about whatever ghastly fate was about to befall me.

The scream sounded as though it had come from the depths of hell. I opened my eyes just in time to see the second Follower implode. No sooner had he disappeared than the fog lifted, and the sounds of voices and traffic from the nearby streets returned.

“Are you okay?” Aunt Lucy took my hand.

“Thank you.” I sighed. “I thought I was a goner.”

“Don’t mention it, my dear. You did really well. You had no chance of taking them both out.”

“How did you know I was in danger?”

“Your mother gave me the nod. She thought you might need a hand. It’s hard for her to have to look on without being able to help.”

“How did you manage to get here so quickly?”

“I’m a witch, dear.” She smiled. “I have my methods.”

“Thank you again.”

“No problem. I really do hope you’ll come to Candlefield again soon. Your cousins and grandma can’t wait to meet you.”

“I will. I promise.” I took her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before.”

“Don’t give it another thought. This must all have come as quite a shock.”

“It has, but I shouldn’t have been so horrible to you.”

“Just you take care. I doubt you have seen the last of the Followers.”

I loved my niece and nephew to bits, but I found them really hard work. How Kathy managed to be with them twenty-four seven was beyond me. What is it with kids? They’re relentless. I’m sure I was never like that. When I was a kid, I liked to read, and to play with my beanies. I’d never felt the need to run around the house screaming at the top of my voice. That had been more Kathy’s thing, I seem to recall.

I’d tried to talk my way out of the party, but Kathy had seen straight through my feeble excuses and threatened to disown me if I didn’t turn up or tried to slip away early. She never let me forget that she was the older sister. She was a bossy cow, but I loved her anyway.

I’d wanted to buy a book for Lizzie, but Kathy had insisted I buy her Lego.

“More Lego?”

“She wants the Lego Fire Station.”

“Couldn’t she make a fire station out of the Lego she already has? I thought that was the whole idea. What about a chemistry set?”

“She’s five, Jill. What would she want with a chemistry set?”

“I had one when I was her age.”

“Yeah, but you were a weird kid.”

“I wasn’t weird!”

“You used to catalogue your beanies. That’s weird.”

I ignored the jibe. “Are you sure she wouldn’t like a few beanies?”

“She wants a Lego Fire Station. Besides, if she wants to play with beanies, she can always borrow yours.”

“I don’t have any beanies now.”

“I’ve seen them. In your wardrobe.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll get her the Lego Fire Station.”

How did Kathy know about my beanies? She must have been nosing around my flat. Borrow
my
beanies?
Lizzie
? No way! They wouldn’t last five minutes. I’d have to find somewhere safe to keep them away from Kathy’s prying eyes. I could tell her that I’d sold them.

“Auntie Jill!” Lizzie came running across the room. “What have you bought me?”

“Lizzie!” Kathy scolded gently. “Let your auntie get in the door first.”

“What is it, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie looked up at the present that I was holding.

“It’s a chemistry set.”

Lizzie’s face fell.

“It's a
what
?” Kathy shot me her familiar death-stare.

“Kidding. I’m only kidding.” I deposited the present into her Lizzie’s tiny hands, and watched in disbelief at the speed with which she ripped off the paper that I’d spent the best part of twenty minutes wrapping it in.

“Lego Fire Station!” Lizzie screamed with delight, as she pulled open the lid.

“Say thank you to Auntie Jill.” Kathy flashed me a smile.

“Thanks, Auntie Jill,” Lizzie said. She was already beginning to assemble the fire station.

The meal was pandemonium. Ten kids—two for each year of Lizzie’s age—sat around a table meant to seat six. Kathy, Peter and me acted as waiters, cleaners and referees while the children screamed and squabbled their way through a mountain of sandwiches, jelly, ice cream, and birthday cake. Kathy somehow managed to avoid all-out war when one of the kids took it upon himself to blow out the candles before Lizzie had the chance to do it. Once the meal was over, Peter stayed in the living room and began to organise party games while Kathy and I escaped to the kitchen.

“Will Peter be okay in there by himself?” I felt a little guilty at leaving him at the mercy of ten rampaging kids.

“Are you kidding? He loves all those games. He’s still a big kid at heart.”

“I’ll wash, you can dry,” I said. The mountain of pots on the drainer was threatening to topple onto the floor.

“The dishes can wait.” Kathy opened the fridge. “We’re having a glass of wine. We’ve earned it.”

“Cheers!” I joined Kathy at the kitchen table. “How much longer will the party go on for?”

“Don’t worry. The parents will be here in another hour to pick up their little darlings.”

“I’m glad I came.”

“Liar!” Kathy laughed. “You had me going for a minute there with the chemistry set.”

“I still think it would have been a better present.”

Kathy downed the wine, and poured herself another. “Top-up?”

“No thanks.”

The noise from the next room was unbelievable—even with the door closed.

“They’re playing pass the parcel,” Kathy said.

“How can you tell?”

“When you’ve been to as many birthday parties as I have, you get to know. Anyway, enough of the kids. I need some grown-up conversation. What’s happening with the murder case?”

“Not much so far. The police may be coming around to the idea of a serial killer.”

“Did Jack Maxwell tell you that?”

“Are you kidding? He won’t even give me the time of day. Arrogant sod.”

“So how do you know?”

“I have my sources.”

The door flew open, and a red-faced Peter said, “Where’s the donkey?”

“Under the sideboard,” Kathy said.

“Donkey?” I asked, once Peter had closed the door.

“’Pin the tail on the donkey.’ Don’t you remember anything about kids’ parties?”

I shrugged. I remembered that I hated them—especially the games. Mum and Dad had given us the choice of a day out or a party for our birthdays. I’d always gone for the day out, but Kathy had always had a party. And she’d always forced me to be there.

“Have you heard any more from your new family?” Kathy was once again topping up her glass. Now I knew her secret for getting through the party.

“No, nothing.” I was hardly going to tell her that I’d had a conversation with my mother’s ghost or that Aunt Lucy had saved me from the Followers. And I certainly couldn’t tell her that I was a witch with magical powers. Not unless I wanted her to have me committed.

Kathy gave me that look. The one she always gave me when she knew I was lying. Luckily, before she had a chance to call me on it, the door flew open again.

“Auntie Jill,” Lizzie screamed. “Come and look.”

She grabbed my hand, and led me through to the next room where Peter was trying to separate two boys who seemed to be having a dispute over a pirate’s hat.

“Why aren’t you playing the party games?” I asked Lizzie as she dragged me towards her bedroom.

“I don’t like blind man’s buff. It’s scary,” she said almost matter-of-factly. “Look!” She pulled me into her bedroom. There on the floor was the fire station, now fully assembled.

“That’s great. It didn’t take you long to put it together.”

She smiled—her face full of pride. “It was easy.”

“Wow!” I caught sight of a huge Lego hotel on the dressing table. “Did you make that too?”

“No, silly.” She laughed. “Daddy made that one. It took him ages and ages.”

I’d no idea that it was possible to create such an elaborate building from Lego. It was enormous.

“Your daddy is very clever. Can I take a closer look?”

“You have to be careful,” she warned.

I nodded, and began to walk across the room.

Now in my own defence, I should say that the room was dimly lit. The only light came from a small bedside lamp. Plus, the fire-engine was the same red as the carpet, so I didn’t spot it until I’d stepped on it. Once I’d lost my footing, my survival instincts kicked in. Naturally, I put my arms out in an attempt to stop my fall.

“No!” Lizzie screamed. “You broke it!”

I’d managed to break my fall, but in the process had knocked the hotel off the dressing table. It was now in a million pieces on the floor.

“Lizzie, wait!” I called after her, but she’d already fled the scene of devastation. “Daddy! Mummy! Auntie Jill has broken my hotel!”

Now I was really in for it. Peter would kill me—it must have taken him days to build it.

“What’s wrong, poppet?” Peter said.

“What’s going on?” Kathy sounded concerned.

Concentrate. I had to concentrate.

“Jill?” Kathy pushed open the door. “What’s—?” She stared past me at the dressing table.

I flashed my best, nonchalant smile.

Lizzie, her eyes red, appeared at her mum’s side. Peter was standing behind the two of them.

“I thought you said it was broken?” Kathy crouched down next to her daughter.

“It was, Mummy. She broke it.”

“It looks okay to me, poppet.” Peter put a hand on his daughter’s head.

“I tripped on the fire engine.” I pointed to the toy. “But I managed to catch myself. Lizzie must have thought I was going to knock the hotel over.” I smiled at Lizzie. She didn’t smile back. Instead, she eyed me suspiciously.