Witch Is When I Said Goodbye (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 10) (19 page)

Chapter 23

I was in my office; Winky was asleep. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to contact the colonel, but I thought I’d give it a try.

“Colonel? Are you there?

There was no response, so I tried again. “Colonel? Priscilla? Are you there?”

Suddenly, I felt a slight chill, and the colonel appeared, arm in arm with Priscilla.

“You called, Jill?”

“I visited your old house as you asked.”

“Has it changed much?”

“Very little in fact. The exterior of the house looks exactly the same. And inside, there are some new paintings, but other than that, it’s pretty much the same old place.”

“Excellent. I was worried someone might have gutted it.”

“Nothing to worry about on that score.”

“Did you get a feel for whether the new owner might be receptive to a haunting?”

“I did actually. He seems very open to the idea.”

“That’s great news, isn’t it, Cilla?”

“There is one
slight
problem though, Colonel.”

“What’s that?”

“The man who bought the house is the head of the local naturist society, and he’s using the house as a base for his club.”

The colonel looked rather taken aback. “Naturists? You mean
naked people
?”

“That’s right.”

“Were there any naked people there when you visited?”

“Quite a few of them, including the owner himself. In fact, the only person who wasn’t naked was the butler. They were playing badminton and volleyball around the back of the house.”

“In the nude?”

“Yes. To tell you the truth, I was a little embarrassed.”

It looked as though Priscilla was too. She was blushing.

“This has come as rather a shock.” The colonel certainly looked stunned. “We’ll need to give this some serious thought, won’t we, Cilla?”

“I’m not sure I can live among naked people, Briggsy.” Her face was the same shade as the butler’s suit.

“Yes. That could be a deal-breaker. Anyway, thanks again, Jill.”

***

I’d never been to Washbridge bus station before. My adoptive parents had always had a car, and I’d been able to drive from the age of seventeen, so I’d never needed to take the bus. The place was practically deserted, but then it was a quarter to midnight. I found the ticket office, but when I got to the counter, it suddenly occurred to me there might be a problem.

“Can I have a single to Candlefield, please?”

“To where?”

“Candlefield.”

“Never heard of it, love, sorry.”

“Right. Okay, thanks.”

What was I supposed to do now? I had no idea where to catch the bus, and even if I found it, I didn’t have a ticket.

I wandered around, unsure what to do, but then I spotted two werewolves.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any idea where I can catch the bus to Candlefield?”

“Why do you need the bus? Surely you can just magic yourself there, can’t you?”

“I could, but I have a thing about buses. It’s kind of a hobby.”

“Whatever floats your boat.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “We’re on our way to catch it ourselves.”

I followed them to the far side of the bus station where a bus was waiting. The panel on the front read:
‘Bus not in service’.

I was beginning to think they’d played a trick on me, but then the driver opened the doors, let us on, and took our fares. It was a double decker, and I decided to sit right at the front on the upper deck. There weren’t many passengers—probably half a dozen on the upper deck, and a few more on the lower deck.

We’d soon left Washbridge behind, and were in the countryside. There were no streetlights on that stretch of road, so I couldn’t see much of anything through the windows. We’d been travelling for a while when my phone rang. It was Mrs V. Why on earth would she be calling at that time of night?

I was just about to press the ‘Answer’ button when the called dropped; I had no signal whatsoever. I glanced outside, and could see we’d stopped in a tunnel of some kind. No wonder I’d lost the call.

I’d planned to call Mrs V back as soon as we moved off, and were out of the tunnel, but I must have nodded off because the next thing I knew, I was waking up as the bus pulled into Candlefield bus station. I was just about to make my way downstairs when a vampire, a few seats behind me, shouted, “Hey! My wallet’s missing!”

Moments later, one of the werewolves who I’d seen at the bus station shouted, “Mine’s gone too!”

Before long, everybody was saying the same thing. Everyone had been robbed. I checked for my purse; it had gone.

But how?

As soon as I stepped off the bus, Maxine Jewell appeared, and pulled me to one side.

“What happened, Gooder?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened. It was a very straightforward bus journey.”

“Well, clearly something happened, because everybody on the bus has been robbed. What about you?”

“My purse has gone.”

“Brilliant! I knew it was a waste of time getting you involved. I warned the inspector that you were useless. I’m going to ask him to take you off the case. We don’t need semi-witches interfering in police business.”

“Don’t hold back, Maxine. Say what you really think.”

“Amateurs!” And with that, she stormed off.

I was exhausted, and still felt only half-awake. And to top it off, I had a horrible taste in my mouth—like I’d just eaten an unripe banana. Yuk! I was really annoyed with myself. What kind of a private investigator was I, to fall asleep on the job?

***

I was still tired when I arrived at the office later that morning. And I still had that horrible banana taste in my mouth even though I’d brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash. Maybe I was coming down with something.

“Mrs V, what are you doing?”

It was like déjà vu. Mrs V was on her way out, carrying a box full of her belongings: knitting needles, crochet hooks, and any number of patterns.

“I tried to call you last night, Jill, but you didn’t answer your phone.”

“Sorry, I was in a tunnel.”

“Tunnel?”

“Long story. Never mind that. What’s happened? Why have you packed your things? I thought you and I were okay?”

“We are. Of course we are. I got a telephone call late last night. G has been rushed into hospital.”

“Your sister? What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m not sure. Her heart, I think. I have to go down there to look after her.”

Mrs V was such a selfless soul. Not everyone would have dropped everything to look after someone who’d treated them so badly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”

“I’ve no idea, but I suspect it will be some time. That’s why I’m taking my knitting and crocheting. I’ll need something to pass the time.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got a taxi booked in five minutes. I’d better say goodbye.”

“You’ll keep me posted?”

“Of course, but you might need to get someone in because I have a feeling I may be gone for some time.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be fine. Goodbye then.”

“Goodbye, Mrs V.”

Poor old Mrs V. And poor old me. What was I going to do without my P.A? I walked into my office, and had to dodge the party popper that came whizzing past my head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I yelled at Winky.

“Champagne?” He offered me a glass.

“What’s the occasion?”

“What do you think? The old bag lady has left. Now you can get in a pretty young thing who adores cats.” He let off another party popper.

***

I’d have to sort out Mrs V’s replacement later. First, I was determined to solve the mystery of the bus robberies. I’d prove to Maxine Jewell that I was no amateur.

I magicked myself to Candlefield police station, and asked to see the inspector.

“Didn’t go very well, did it, Jill?” He didn’t look happy.

“No, it didn’t.”

“In fact, it was a spectacular failure. Maxine wants me to kick you off the case.”

“Look, Inspector—I know things didn’t work out last night, but I’m still willing to pursue this if you’ll allow me to.”

“I can give you another forty-eight hours, but that’s all. Then I’ll have to take you off the case. Otherwise, I’ll have Maxine on my back.”

“Would it be okay if I looked through your records on these robberies?”

“Of course. I’ll call the records office, and have someone collect you. They’ll let you see whatever you need to.”

A few minutes later, a young police officer escorted me down two flights of stairs to the records office. With her help, I was able to access details of the bus robberies. It was always the midnight bus which was hit; never the midday one. There was no obvious pattern to the days on which the robberies had occurred, but I printed off the dates anyway. I also found a phone number for the manager of the bus company. After I’d finished up in the records office, I gave him a call, and asked if I could pop straight over to see him.

“It’s about time the police sorted this lot out.”

For some reason, Mr Grimsdale, the manager of the bus company, was wearing wellingtons with his pin-stripe suit. Maybe, he had a leaking roof? Or just a thing about wellingtons?

“It really isn’t good enough. How are we expected to run a public transport system when the passengers are afraid they might be robbed at any moment?”

“I know the police are as keen as you are to clear this up. That’s why they’ve asked me to help.”

“No disrespect, but what can you do that the police can’t?”

“I’m not sure, but I promise you I’ll give it my best.”

I could tell he was impressed by the way he snorted. “What exactly is it you want to see?”

“I’d like to see the rota of drivers for the Washbridge to Candlefield route, if that’s possible.”

He picked up the phone. “Jeremiah, bring me the WC file would you?”

WC?

He must have noticed my puzzled look. “WC: Washbridge-Candlefield.”

“Of course. When you said WC, I thought—never mind.”

A quick flick through the paperwork revealed there were in fact five different drivers who drove the route from Washbridge to Candlefield. By crosschecking that rota with the dates of the robberies, it was clear that the same driver had been at the wheel on every occasion. Ricky Keane was now the prime suspect, but I still had no idea how the robberies had taken place.

According to the rota for the current week, he was due to drive the midnight bus again that very night.

“Thank you for your help, Mr Grimsdale.”

He snorted what I took to be a goodbye.

***

Once again, at midnight, I found myself at Washbridge bus station, but this time I wasn’t waiting for a bus. I was in my car. When the bus displaying the sign
‘not in service’
set off, I followed it.

Once the bus had left Washbridge, it stopped only at traffic lights. No one got on or off until it arrived in Candlefield bus station. The burning question was: had there been any robberies? I parked the car and hurried into the bus station. All the passengers leaving the bus seemed perfectly happy. No one had been robbed.

What was going on? I’d been sure Ricky Keane was my man, but he’d driven the bus tonight without incident.

And yet, something about the journey was bugging me. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

Chapter 24

“So? Where is she?” Winky demanded when I arrived at the office.

“Where is who?”

“The pretty, young receptionist who has a soft spot for cats.”

“I haven’t had time to think about that yet. I’ve been busy.”

“Busy? You?” Winky rolled around laughing. “Good one. See, you can be funny when you try.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very busy at the moment.”

“Why don’t you let me look after recruiting, then? A good manager knows when to delegate.”

“No recruitment agency is going to deal with a cat!”

“I can do it over Skype.”

“They can still see you on Skype.”

“Not if I put a photo of you in front of the camera. I’ll stand behind it and talk to them.”

“They’ll realise it isn’t me when they hear your voice.

“Not necessarily.” He took out his smartphone. “Say something.”

“Say what?”

“Anything. Just a few words.”

“Custard creams are the king of biscuits.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows that Garibaldi biscuits take the crown.”

“Are you honestly trying to compare garibaldis to custard creams?”

“Compare? No. There is no comparison. You’re simply wrong.”

The cat was a hopeless case. It was pointless to argue the point.

“Listen.” He started to type something into his phone.

“Custard creams are the king of biscuits.”

The voice which came from his phone sounded exactly like me.

“How did you do that?”

“I have a voice synthesiser app. I’ve been recording your voice for some time, so the program could learn it. I think it’s done a pretty good job. So, you can leave the recruitment in my paws.”

“No! I told you. I’ll get it sorted.”

“Don’t you dare bring back The Buninator!”

The last temp I’d had was Sue Zann or as Winky called her, The Buninator. She scared him to death—she scared me too. I wouldn’t be asking
her
back.

“Hello!” A female voice shouted from the outer office. “Anyone home?”

“In here. Come through.”

“Sorry. There was no one on reception. Are you Jill Gooder?”

“That’s me. How can I help?” Had Winky already been in touch with the recruitment agencies?

“Sorry to call in unannounced. I’m Susan Hall. From The Bugle.”

I vaguely remembered Dougal Andrews mentioning something about a new reporter. He’d seemed quite excited about it for some reason. Susan Hall was not what I’d come to expect of reporters who worked at The Bugle.

“I’ll be honest with you,” I said. “I’m not a fan of The Bugle.”

“So I understand. I hope that I’ll be able to change your views over time.”

“Take a seat. You’ve got your work cut out if you want to change my views. That rag of yours will print any old rubbish.”

“That’s the reason I’ve been brought in by the new management. They want to change the image of The Bugle.”

“You have a mammoth task in front of you. What brings you here to see me?”

“It’s obvious that you’ve played a major part in solving several serious crimes in Washbridge. I’ve read a number of articles which feature you, including the one about the so-called ‘animal’ serial killer.”

“That’s a prime example of The Bugle’s tactics. There never was a serial killer. It was pure sensationalism. Is Dougal Andrews still at the paper?”

“For now, yes.”

“I should tell you that he and I are not on good terms. He stitched me up with an article on the Washbridge Police. He promised it wouldn’t be a hatchet job, and that he’d let me see it before it was published. It
was
a hatchet job, and he
didn’t
let me see it. Then, more recently, he accused me of being involved with slavery.”

Susan smiled for the first time. “I don’t blame you for being upset about that.”

“So, what exactly do you hope to achieve?”

“I want to transform The Bugle into a serious newspaper. We should be pursuing the big stories, not frivolous, sensational ones. I want to work
with
the police and people like yourself, not
against
you. I want The Bugle to help make Washbridge a safer place.”

“And to pick up a few awards along the way?”

“Sure, but only if they’re deserved. I don’t want to put my name to articles like the one Dougal Andrews is working on right now, for example. Zombies? Whatever next?”

“Zombies?”

“Ridiculous, I know, but that’s what I’m up against. Anyway, Jill, I won’t take up any more of your time. I just wanted to introduce myself. I hope we’ll be able to work together.”

I shook her hand. She was certainly a lot more impressive than any of the other reporters I’d met from The Bugle, but that wasn’t saying much.

“Oh, by the way,” she said, as she was making her way to the door. “I don’t suppose you know of any flat-shares going, do you? I’ve been living out of a suitcase for ages, in a grotty hotel on the outskirts of town.”

“Sorry, I don’t. But good luck with the new job.”

She was certainly going to need it.

***

Winky was driving me insane. He kept pestering me to find a new receptionist; one who met his exacting requirements. To escape his constant nagging, I magicked myself to the Candlefield bus station.

“You again.” Mr Grimsdale greeted me with his usual happy smile. At least today he wasn’t wearing wellingtons with his pin-striped suit. Instead, he was sporting open-toe sandals. “I’m still waiting for someone to catch the thief.”

“I’m working on it. Do you keep a record of the departure and arrival times of the buses?”

“Of course.”

“Could I see them?”

“How is that going to help?”

“Humour me, please.”

He grunted a couple of times, but did eventually let me see the records I requested. Within a few minutes, one thing was blatantly obvious. The buses that had been involved with the robberies had all taken about fifteen minutes longer to complete the journey than the buses where no robbery had taken place.

And, I thought I knew why.

***

I’d called Amber in the hope that she could arrange for me to meet with William. As it turned out, he was with her; they were both at the dentist. I said I’d meet them back at Cuppy C.

Twenty minutes after I arrived there, Amber and William came in. Amber was smiling, but looked a little out of it.

“You look a lot happier than the last time I saw you.”

“I feel so much better.” She was struggling to speak. “I’m going to rinse my mouth out.”

“How is she?” I asked William after she’d gone upstairs.

“A lot better. She’s still a bit groggy at the moment, but the pain has gone—that’s the main thing. Amber said you wanted a word with me?”

“That’s right. The other day, you mentioned you used to go on the bus between Candlefield and Washbridge?”

“Yes, but that’s a long time ago.”

“Didn’t you say something about it going on the old route in those days?”

“Yes, that was before they built the more direct route. The old road was longer; it used to meander through the countryside.”

“Is the old road still there?”

“Yes, but hardly anyone uses it.”

“Do you think you could tell me how to find it?”

“Sure.” He took out a small notebook, and began to draw a simple map.

“William!” Amber called. “I think I’m going to have a lie down. Could you bring me a drink, and something to eat—something soft?”

“Sure. I’ll be straight up.”

William passed me the sketch. “What do you think she would like to eat?”

“Soup? Maybe some fruit—bananas are soft.”

“She won’t thank me for a banana.” He grinned. “She said her mouth tasted like bananas from the anaesthetic.”

“Bananas?”

“Yeah. It’s the Banacane that they use nowadays. It’s brilliant stuff. Knocks you out instantly, but when you come around you have a horrible taste of bananas in your mouth.” He stood up. “I’ll just take her some soup.”

***

I wanted to test my theory by following William’s map, but to do that I was going to need my car, which was back in Washbridge.

Once I’d collected it, I set out on the same route that the bus had taken, but I kept a lookout for the left turn, which William had drawn on his map. He would have made a great cartographer; the turn-off onto the old road was exactly where he’d drawn it.

I’d been driving along the old road for about two miles when I came to a tunnel.

Bingo! At long last, everything made sense.

I called Mr Grimsdale to ask when Ricky would next be driving the midnight bus from Washbridge.

He snorted something, but then confirmed it would be that very night.

My next call was to Maxine Jewell.

“What do you want, Gooder?”

“If you ever decide to quit the force, Maxine, you should seriously consider opening a charm school.”

“Cut the wisecracks. I’m busy.”

“I need you to meet me at Candlefield bus station tonight in time for when the midnight bus arrives.”

“I’ve had just about enough of your wild goose chases.”

“Just do it, Maxine. If I don’t deliver this time, I’ll drop the case.”

“You won’t need to drop it; I’ll kick you off it.”

“Fair enough. I need you to send two of your people to another location too.”

“You really are pushing your luck. Where?”

I met up with Maxine Jewell and three police officers at the Candlefield bus station just before one in the morning. The bus from Washbridge was due at any moment.

“What’s this all about?” Maxine demanded.

“Just wait and see.”

Before she could ask again, the bus arrived. When the passengers stepped off, they were all complaining that they’d had their valuables stolen. I stepped onto the bus and grabbed the driver’s rucksack.

“Hey! Give me that back!” He chased after me, desperately trying to grab it.

“I think you’ll want to see this, Maxine.”

I opened the rucksack, and inside, just as I’d suspected, was a gas mask. Maxine looked confused.

“This is your man, Maxine. Arrest him.”

“And charge him with what?”

“Robbery, of course.”

“Keep a hold of him,” she barked at one of the police officers. “You!” She grabbed my arm. “Come with me.”

Only when we were out of earshot of the other officers, did she release my arm.

“This had better be good, Gooder.”

“Good, Gooder? I like it!”

“You’re trying my patience.”

“He and his co-conspirator have been using Banacane to knock the passengers out.”

“What? How can you know that?”

“When I travelled on the bus, I fell asleep. I never do that when I’m on a case.”

“Says you.”

“For hours afterwards, I had a horrible taste in my mouth—just like bananas. It was the after-effect of the Banacane. That’s why he has the gas mask.”

“But where are the stolen goods? And how did he feed the gas into the bus?”

“He’s been taking the old road. If you’ve done what I asked you to, and put your men at the tunnel on that road, they will no doubt have apprehended his partner, and retrieved the stolen goods by now. They’ll probably have found the gas cylinders too.”

“Stay there for a minute while I check.” Maxine moved a few feet away, and then made a call on her radio.

“Well?” I said when she returned.

“Yes. They’ve arrested a man.”

“And the stolen goods?”

“They have those too. And they’ve found the gas cylinders and piping.”

“This is where you say thank you.”

“How did you know he’d been taking the old road?”

“When I took the bus, I was just about to answer a phone call when I lost the signal. It was because we’d stopped in a tunnel. The next thing I knew I was waking up in this bus station. When I followed the bus in my car I knew something was different about the journey, but it took me a while to figure out what it was. Then it came to me—we didn’t go through a tunnel. He must have suspected he was being followed that day, so took the regular route. The log times for the buses on which the robberies took place show a slightly longer journey because they took the old road. He and his co-conspirator piped gas into the bus while it was stationary in the tunnel, and then robbed the passengers while they were out of it. His partner took their swag off the bus while Ricky continued on his journey.”