Witch Is When the Bubble Burst (11 page)

Chapter 18

Although no body had been found, it was pretty obvious that, since finding the bloodied tee-shirt, the police now considered the Amanda Banks case to be a murder enquiry. I might not always be the best judge of character, but I didn’t buy the idea that Steve Lister had murdered his girlfriend.

My next stop was the university. Steve had given me the name of one particular student, Kelly Lowe, who Amanda was friendly with. I caught up with her at lunch time.

“How was Amanda the last time you saw her?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

“Look, Kelly. Right now we have no idea where Amanda is. She could be in danger. Every minute we waste makes it more likely this won’t end well. Who are you protecting?”

“Amanda was usually bubbly, you know. I mean she was happy all the time, and she really loved Steve.”

I sensed a ‘but’ coming.

“But that last day, she walked out of class without saying a word to the tutor. I found her in the loo. She’d been crying. When I asked her what was wrong, she said Steve was cheating on her with her best friend.”

“Did she tell you her best friend’s name?”

“Rachel. I don’t know her last name.”

“Did she say how she found out?”

“She was pretty upset. She could barely talk for crying. I think she saw them out together somewhere.”

“Could she have been mistaken?”

“That’s what I said. I know Steve, and he isn’t the kind of guy who would cheat on her. At least, I didn’t think so.”

“So what happened afterwards?”

“Nothing. I wanted to go back to her flat with her, but she said she wanted to be alone.” Kelly began to cry. “I shouldn’t have let her go by herself. If I’d been with her maybe none of this would have happened.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”

It appeared my earlier concerns about Steve and Rachel may have been on the mark. But what did that mean? Had Amanda called Steve to the holiday home to confront him? Had he lashed out and killed her, and then tried to hide it by staging the kidnapping? It simply didn’t ring true. Why would she bother going to the holiday home? Why not confront him on campus or at her flat? I needed to talk to Rachel again, but when I called I got her voicemail. Her recorded message said she was out of town until the following day.

***

I ate lunch on the run as I made my way back to the office. Gordon Armitage was standing outside the building, shouting instructions to two men who were working on the sign.

“Problem with the sign, Gordon?” I said, barely hiding my grin.

He glared at me, but said nothing.

The outer office was full of people, all seated, all knitting. Mrs V was at her desk, and she waved when she spotted me. I threaded my way through the seats.

“Did I mention the classes I’m running?” Mrs V said.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”

“Silly me. I’d forget my head if it was loose.”

“Who are all of these people?” I said in a whisper.

“They’re the new people who have moved in. The ‘I Am Poo’ staff.”

That explained where all the chairs had come from at least.

“A couple of them recognised me from Wool TV, and asked if I’d be prepared to run classes one lunch time each week.”

I glanced around the room. There were women of all ages, and over by the window a solitary man.

“That’s Leroy. He’s a genius with the knit and purl,” Mrs V said. “I’ve told him he should aim for the regionals.”

Leroy looked up, smiled and waved a knitting needle. I smiled, and waved back.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” Mrs V said. “I hope you don’t mind me doing this.”

“Err—no—it’s fine, I guess. It might be a good idea to leave a pathway through to my office though. On the off-chance a paying client should turn up.”

“Have you seen that sorry looking crowd out there?” Winky said when I made it through to my office. “They make this place look unprofessional.”

“Hmm, I see you’re playing darts again,” I said.

Winky hit three double tops in quick succession.

“Just keeping my hand in. There’s a tournament next month.”

“Where?”

“West Moreland.”

“That’s forty miles away.”

“So?”

“How will you get there?”

“You’ll take me, of course.”

“No chance.”

“Oh, I see. You don’t mind supporting the old bag lady when she takes part in some stupid knitting competition, but you won’t support me in one of the most prestigious darts tournaments of the year.”

“How can you play in a tournament anyway? You’re a cat.”

“It’s a tournament for cats. What did you think it was?”

“I—err—when is it exactly?”

***

I had no idea how I was meant to play this. My mother had asked me to pay a visit to Holly Jones, a human who’d recently lost her mother. Holly’s mother and my mother were now ghost friends. Holly’s mother, Maureen, had been trying to make contact with her daughter, but Holly wasn’t a believer, and blocked all her attempts. I was supposed to persuade Holly that ghosts did exist, and to open herself up to contact from her mother.

Holly lived in the leafier part of Washbridge. No chewing gum or dog poo on the pavements in this part of town. The house was much as I’d expected it to be: bay windows, rose beds and a dreamcatcher.

I rang the doorbell which played something which sounded remarkably like the Wedding March.

A young woman came to the door, took one look at me (down her nose), and said, “Sorry, I don’t buy anything at the door.”

“Wait!”

Too late. She’d already slammed it in my face. I glanced down at the ‘Welcome’ mat. Oh, the irony.

I rang the doorbell again.

“My neighbour is a policeman,” she said this time.

“I’m not selling anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise. I’m here about your mother. Your late mother.”

Her demeanour changed from hostile to curious.

“My mother is—” I hesitated. “I mean
was
a friend of your mother’s.”

“Oh, right. Sorry about slamming the door.”

“That’s okay. I don’t like door to door salesmen either.”

“Come in. I was about to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

“Please.”

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Milk, and one and two-thirds spoonfuls of sugar please.”

I ignored the look.

“What was your mother’s name?” Holly asked, once we were seated with our tea. Mine wasn’t really sweet enough, but I didn’t like to say anything.

“Darlene Millbright.”

“It doesn’t ring any bells.”

“They only became acquainted recently, I believe.”

“I see.”

“Very recently. As in during the last few weeks.”

She looked puzzled. “I think you must have got that wrong. My mother died three months ago.”

“Can I ask you a question?” I said. “It may sound a little—err—strange.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Ghosts?” She scoffed. “No of course not. What’s this about?”

“I know this is going to sound kind of weird, but my mother died some time ago too. Your mother and mine became friends after they died. As ghosts.”

Holly put down her cup. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

“Look, I know how this sounds. I didn’t believe in ghosts either when my mother first made contact.”

“Please leave or I shall be forced to call the police.”

She began to shepherd me to the door.

“If you just open your mind to the idea—”

The door was slammed in my face for a second time.

That went well.

I took out my card, and slid it through the letterbox. “Call me if you change your mind.”

***

When I arrived back at the office, the new sign was back in working order. Not for long though. I quickly employed the ‘lightning bolt’ spell to knock out most of the letters again. Satisfied with my work, I started up the stairs only to encounter Gordon Armitage.

“Hi, Gordon. How’s it swinging?”

“I get that you think you’re funny, Jill, but I have to tell you, you’re not.”

“You’re right. Not as funny as your sign anyway.”

“That was just an unfortunate accident. It’s been sorted now.”

“Are you sure about that? It was still getting a few laughs when I came in just now.”

“What?” He rushed down the stairs. I followed him.

A number of people were pointing and laughing at the sign which now read ‘Rat Poo’.

“Switch it off!” Armitage shouted into his phone. “Turn the damn thing off!”

***

Okay, I admit it. I was now using my magical powers for purely selfish reasons. But why shouldn’t I benefit? I’d put in the hours of practise after all. Even so, I still felt a little guilty when I used the ‘quick snack’ spell. From what I could make out it was only meant to be used in an emergency to provide a snack when you might otherwise starve.

Well—I’d kind of taken a few liberties. By the time I got home from the office, I was often shattered and the last thing I felt like doing was cooking a meal for one. So, what was I to do? If I didn’t cook, and I didn’t eat, then I’d probably starve. Right? Dead right. That’s how I justified it to myself. It was a complicated spell, and very restrictive in what it would and wouldn’t produce. The first time I tried it, I’d focussed on cheese on toast. No problem—the snack appeared right in front of me, and very tasty it was too. The next time, I tried for steak and all the trimmings, but nothing happened. Through trial and error, I’d come to realise the spell would have been better named ‘fast food’ because it would typically produce only the type of meal you’d find at such establishments. Not that I was complaining—it beat cooking any day, and was a heck of a lot cheaper.

I took a bite of the burger.

“Please tell me you didn’t use the ‘quick snack’ spell again.” My mother tutted.

“Mum?” I tried to say through a mouthful of burger.

“You can’t live on the type of food that spell will produce.”

I wiped ketchup from my mouth. “It’s just a one-off.”

“From what I’ve seen it’s a one-off which happens most days. You really must eat a healthier diet otherwise you’ll end up looking like Grandma.”

If ever a threat was guaranteed to have maximum impact, that was it. I put the burger back on the plate. It would be salads for me from now on.

“How did you get on with Holly?” she asked.

“Not great.”

“Not great as in—?”

“As in, she threw me out and threatened to call the police if I ever went back there.”

“Definitely not great then. That’s a pity because her mother has been clinging on to the hope that you’d be able to talk Holly round. I’m not sure how she’ll take it when I tell her the news.”

“Don’t tell her just yet. Let me have another go. I have a few ideas up my sleeve.”

“Okay. Do your best.” She glanced at the burger. “And throw that thing in the bin.”

I waited until I was sure she’d gone, and then took another bite.

“Do it now!” Her voice came from out of nowhere.

Chapter 19

I had to pull the car over to the side of the road. If I hadn’t, I would probably have crashed because I was laughing hysterically. Tears were streaming down my face, and it took me several minutes to compose myself enough to speak.

“Looking good!” I shouted.

The giant knitting needle turned around to face me.

“If you laugh, I’ll kill you,” Kathy said. Her face was the colour of beetroot.

“As if I would.” I burst out laughing.

“Great! Thanks for that.”

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my eyes. “Don’t get the needle with me.” I collapsed again.

“I take back all the good things I said about your grandmother,” Kathy said. “She’s horrible. I’m meant to be heading up the new One-Size Needles division, not standing out here looking like a complete idiot.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s much room for your legs in there. Careful you don’t get pins and needles.”

“Funny. Really funny.”

“Don’t split your sides laughing, or we’ll have to stitch you up with needle and thread.”

“Get lost, Jill.”

“I’m sorry. No more needle jokes, I promise.”

“You mean it?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Your grandmother has launched a web site: EverAWoolMoment.com. It offers one hour delivery anywhere in the country. She decided the launch needed a push, and after the success of the Everlasting Wool campaign, she decided this was the way to go. Do you want to know the ironic thing?”

“Go on.”

“I was the one who told her I thought it was a great idea. Little did I know that she intended me to wear this stupid thing.”

“One hour delivery? Anywhere in the country? How can she do that?”

“Beats me. I have no idea where the stock is being held or who is doing the delivery. It’s all very hush, hush.”

“How long do you have to stay out here?”

“Only this morning, thank goodness. Anyway, how are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“What about the kidnap case?”

“Ongoing. How are the kids?”

“Great. Mikey’s not very happy though because he can’t find the last card he needs to complete his collection of football stickers. He’s tried everywhere, poor lamb.”

“Bit like trying to find a needle in a haystack then?” I dissolved into hysterics yet again.

Grandma’s wool empire was expanding, and as far as I could tell, it owed most of its success to magic. How was she getting away with it?

***

I met Rachel Nixon at her flat.

“How’s Steve?” She looked concerned. “Have you seen him?”

“Yes, but only briefly. He appears to be holding it together.”

“Why did they arrest him? I don’t understand.”

“Were you and Steve seeing one another?”

“What do you mean ‘seeing’ one another?”

“Like an item.”

“Me and Steve? No! Are you crazy? Why would you even think that?”

“He was here the last time I came.”

“We’re friends. We were both upset about Amanda. No, of course we aren’t an item.”

“Amanda thought you were.”

Rachel flopped down into a chair. She looked completely stunned. “No. Why would she think that? Who told you that?”

“She told someone at uni on the same day as she disappeared. Apparently she saw you and Steve together.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would she think there was anything between Steve and me?”

“Apparently Steve told her he was staying in, but then she saw him with you.”

“Where? Oh, wait. I know. We were planning a surprise birthday party for her.”

“Just you and Steve?”

“No. Tom was supposed to be there too, but he never showed up.”

“Who’s Tom?”

“The bar manager where Amanda worked—works. It was his idea. He said we should meet up to make plans, but then he never showed up. That’s why Steve told Amanda he was staying in. But how did she see us? She was never there—was she?”

If Rachel was lying, she was one of the best liars I’d ever met. To corroborate her story, I was going to have to speak to Tom. I called the bar. The person who answered sounded half-asleep, but managed to inform me that Tom wouldn’t be in until that evening.

***

Mrs V wasn’t at her desk, but she’d left me a note. It was rather cryptic, and looked as though it had been dashed off in a hurry. It simply said:
‘Gone to meet man at Wool TV’
.

“Winky, what’s going on with Mrs V?”

He meowed and scratched his ear.

“Did you hear her take a phone call?”

More meowing.

“I’m not falling for that one again. What kind of mug do you think I am?”

He meowed.

“And why is this window wide open?” I turned around just in time to see Winky launch himself at me—teeth bared, and claws out.

“What are you doing?” I yelled just before he hit me full on in the chest. He was clawing at my body while doing his best to sink his teeth into my throat. The sheer force with which he’d hit me had sent me staggering backwards, so I was now leaning back against the open window.

He was strong. Much too strong for a cat—even a psycho cat. I cast the ‘power’ spell, spun around and tore him from my body, sending him flying out of the open window.

I couldn’t bear to look down at the street below. I staggered backwards until I came to rest—leaning against the desk. Only when my breathing began to slow down did I hear the noise.

A scratching sound was coming from the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, so I slid it open slowly.

“Winky!”

He mumbled something which I couldn’t quite make out because of the tape over his mouth. His legs were bound too.

I lifted him onto the desk, grabbed the scissors and cut the binding on his legs.

“This is going to hurt.” I grabbed the tape, and pulled it off.

“Ouch! Ouch! That hurt!”

“Sorry. What happened?”

“What do you think happened? Someone tied me up and stuck me in the filing cabinet.”

“Who?”

“How would I know? I was fast asleep and the next thing I know—bang—I’m in the filing cabinet. I bet it was the old bag lady—she hates me.”

“Mrs V would never do anything like that. And besides, there was another cat in here when I walked in. He tried to kill me.”

“What did he look like?”

“Like you. I thought it
was
you until he went for my throat.”

“Where is he now?”

“I threw him out of the window.”

“Nice one.” He jumped down off the desk and up onto the window sill.

“He isn’t there now.”

Winky was right. There was no sign of the impostor, but then I suspected that whatever it was that had attacked me hadn’t actually been a cat. Every instinct told me this was the work of The Dark One.

***

I’d died and gone to heaven. Or at least that’s how good it felt when I spotted it. I’d needed something to calm my nerves after the cat attack, so I’d headed to the local coffee shop. They had introduced a new line of biscuits. When I say new, they weren’t exactly new—they were old favourites. There was a jaffa cake, a jammy dodger and several others including the king of biscuits, and my personal favourite, the custard cream. What was so good about these was that they were GIANT biscuits. They were at least four times the size of their standard counterparts. A giant custard cream! And as if it couldn’t get any better, each of the giant custard creams was wrapped in cellophane, so there was no contamination from other, inferior biscuits.

“A skinny latte and two giant custard creams, please.”

“Two?” The young woman behind the counter looked rather shocked.

“Sorry. Did I say two? I meant one.” Slip of the tongue obviously. No one would be that greedy.

***

Bar Bravo was a small bar located in a street full of similar bars—all pretty much interchangeable. I deliberately arrived shortly after opening time when I hoped it would still be quiet.

Quiet wasn’t the word for it—dead would have been more accurate. There were maybe six or seven customers, and behind the bar: a young woman with multicoloured hair, and a man with a shaven head, and tattoos on his upper arms.

“I’m looking for Tom.”

“The man chewed his gum while appraising me. Judging by the other people in the bar, I didn’t fit their normal demographic.

“I’m Tom.” he replied, eventually.

I gave him my card and explained I was working on the kidnap case.

“Amanda was a sweet kid,” he said.

“Was?”

“Not looking good for her after all this time is it?”

“There’s no reason to believe she’s dead.” Even as I said it, I wasn’t totally convinced. “Rachel Nixon gave me your name.”

“Sure, I know Rachel. She comes in here occasionally. Sometimes her and Amanda go on to a club after Amanda finishes her shift.”

“One of Amanda’s friends from uni told me she was upset on the day she disappeared. How did she seem to you the night before?”

“She was okay. I remember her being quite bubbly actually.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’d have noticed if there had been anything wrong.”

“What can you tell me about the birthday party?”

“Oh, you mean the surprise party for Amanda?”

“Yeah. Rachel Nixon said you’d arranged to meet her and Steve to plan everything, but then you didn’t show.”

“That’s right. A couple of the staff phoned in sick, so I couldn’t get away.”

The bar was beginning to fill up now. Another young woman had joined Tom and the girl with multi-coloured hair behind the bar. I gave Tom my card, and asked him to give me a call if he thought of anything which might help.

I was only a few metres down the road when I heard someone call after me. It was the girl from the bar—the one with multi-coloured hair.

“I overheard you talking about Amanda.” As she spoke, she looked back over her shoulder as though checking no one had followed her. “I’m Carrie. I work with Amanda. She’s really nice.”

“Do you know something that might help?”

She glanced back at the bar again, obviously nervous.

“What Tom told you back there. It wasn’t true. Amanda was really upset that night; the day before the kidnapping. I found her crying.”

“Do you know why she was upset?”

“She didn’t have time to tell me before Tom came and dragged me back to the bar. When I went to check on her later, she’d left. She didn’t finish her shift.”

“Do you have any idea why she might have been so upset?”

“The only thing I know is that Tom and Amanda left the bar for a short while. They never said where they were going. Amanda was okay when she left, but then a total mess when she came back.”

“Do you think he did something to her?”

“I don’t know. I suppose he might have tried it on with her, but she would have told him to do one. She was crazy in love with Steve.”

“I don’t suppose you know any of Tom’s ex girlfriends do you?”

“I could probably find you some phone numbers. He’s always leaving his phone under the bar.”

“That would be great. Here.” I passed her my card. “Give me a call if you manage it.”