Witch Is When Stuff Got Serious (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 11) (13 page)

“No. That was another cat.”

“How many have you got in there?”

“Just the one now.”

Winky was on the sofa.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I guess so.”

“What about Bella? What are you going to do about her?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “If she wants Socks, she can have him.”

“That’s the spirit. There’s plenty more fish in the sea.”

“Talking of fish, I’m a little peckish. Red not pink, obviously.”

Talk about playing the pity card.

Chapter 15

“Have you been out with Armi again, Mrs V?”

“Not since we went to his club, but he has dropped by the office a few times, and we’ve chatted. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. As long as you don’t get too amorous in here.”

“Jill, really!” She flashed me a look of disdain. “He’s asked me to go around to his office later today. We’re going to go over my Will.”

The cad! It was just as I’d suspected. Armi
was
the goblin. I couldn’t let him get away with this. I had to stop him before he conned Mrs V out of her life’s savings.

I hurried over to Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole where Jules was on reception.

“Good morning, Miss Gooder. Do you have an appointment?”

“No. Where’s Joseph Armitage?”

“I’m afraid you can’t see him without an appointment.”

“Where’s his office?”

“It’s over there, but like I said, you can’t see him without—”

I made a beeline straight for Armi’s office, and burst through the door.

“I know your game, goblin!” I yelled at him. “Leave Mrs V alone or you’ll have me to deal with!”

The small man looked terrified, and appeared to be trembling. He wasn’t fooling anyone. The goblin had obviously somehow taken over Joseph Armitage’s body.

“Did you hear what I said? Leave Mrs V alone, you horrible little goblin.”

“Okay. Sorry.” He whimpered.

As I made my way out, I caught sight of Gordon Armitage who was staring at me, open-mouthed.

He could think what he wanted. They all could. I wasn’t going to stand idly by while a goblin conned my PA.

The adrenaline was still pumping as I made my way back to the office. As I turned the corner, I practically bumped into Daze and Blaze.

“Steady on, Jill. Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry, Daze. How’s the painting coming along?”

“Almost done.”

“When you’ve finished that, you’d better hurry up and take that goblin into custody before he causes any more problems.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. We arrested him yesterday. He’s behind bars in Candlefield.”

Oh bum!

***

Fortunately for me, Mrs V wasn’t at her desk when I got back to the office. Maybe, if I kept my head down, I’d get away with my little faux pas.

Whoops! Spoke too soon. She burst into my office.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Jill.”

“A toe bone?”

“What?” She looked understandably puzzled.

“Just my little joke.”

“I’m not in the mood for your jokes. I’m very annoyed with you.”

“With me?” I gave her my
butter wouldn’t melt
expression. “What have I done?”

“Don’t come the innocent. I’ll have you know Armi is extremely upset. He told me what you did. Bursting into his office like that, and calling him a goblin.”

“Did I really do that?” I shook my head. “I’ve been taking some new meds for my hay fever. They make me rather drowsy. I think I must have been sleepwalking.”

She gave me a doubtful look.

“Please tell him I’m very sorry, and that it was all caused by my meds. Tell him I don’t think he looks like a goblin. Not at all.”

“Sometimes, Jill, I worry about you.”

She went back to her office, and slammed the door behind her.

Winky jumped onto the desk. “What have you done to upset the old bag lady now?” He laughed.

“Nothing.”

“You must have done something. Come on, you can share with me.”

“I thought her new boyfriend was actually a goblin who was trying to con her out of her money.”

“Wow! Those meds must really have been strong!”

***

I’d been so busy trying to clear Mad’s name, that I’d allowed the Wand of Magna case to slide. But I’d just heard that Mad had been released and was on her way back home, so now I could focus my attention on the robbery at the museum.

Elizabeth Myles, the art restorer, was a quiet, timid woman who clearly loved her job.

“Have you worked here long?”

“I did my apprenticeship here underneath.”

“Underneath what?”

She laughed. “Under Graham Neath. He held this job before me, and taught me practically everything I know.”

“I take it Mr Neath no longer works here?”

“He’s been retired for three years now. I hate to think what he’d say if he ever found out the wand had been stolen.”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to get it back, so he need never know.”

“I certainly hope so. Haven’t I seen your picture in The Candle?”

“It’s possible.”

“Weren’t you that woman with the world’s tallest aspidistra?”

“No. That wasn’t me.”

“Strange. You look just like her. Do you grow aspidistras?”

“No.” This interview seemed to be getting away from me. “Did you see anything or anyone suspicious on the days leading up to the theft?”

“No, but then I’m usually locked away in my workshop. I sometimes don’t see anyone except the other staff all day.”

“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to steal the wand?”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.”

“Please. It’s important you tell me anything you know.”

“When I heard it had gone, my first thought was wow.”

“Wow?”

“Wands Or War. It’s a small, but vocal pressure group who believe that all witches should carry wands.”

“Had they threatened to steal it?”

“No, but they’ve held a number of demonstrations outside the museum.”

“Do you know where I can find W.O.W?”

“Sorry, no.”

I thanked Elizabeth for her time. I would have to pay a visit to W.O.W—assuming I could find them.

I still hadn’t managed to catch up with Sandra Bell, but I’d now explored every nook and cranny of the museum with the exception of the basement. Coral Fish had said I was welcome to go down there, but warned me that there was nothing to see.

The door to the basement was unlocked. Even with the light on, it was still quite dark as I walked down the creaky wooden steps. It wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting. The museum itself was fairly large, but the basement was a single, small room with a door at the far end. Just as Coral had said, the room was completely empty. Then I remembered this had originally been the basement of Magna’s house, which is why it had a much smaller footprint than the building which now stood above it.

I was fascinated by the sealed room, which I’d heard so much about. Magna Mondale herself had sealed the door with magic, and it had remained sealed ever since despite numerous efforts to open it.

Once I was sure that no one had followed me, I reached out and took hold of the door handle. I couldn’t help myself—I just had to try it.

It wouldn’t budge. I cast the ‘power’ spell, and put all of my weight behind it, but still nothing.

What else had I expected?

***

I’d hardly got through Kathy’s door before both Mikey and Lizzie came rushing up to me. Their faces were beaming with excitement.

“What’s going on, kids?”

“Mummy’s famous,” Lizzie squealed.

“Mum’s a TV star,” Mikey shouted.

Oh dear. Those poor deluded kids were under the impression that because their mother had been on a reality TV show for a week, she was somehow famous. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been on network TV, but this was Wool TV. How many people watched that?

Kathy appeared.

“Come here, you two. Let Auntie Jill get in the door.”

“They’ve just been telling me they have a famous mum.”

“They’re right. Would you like my autograph?”

“Come on, Kathy. It’s only Wool TV.”

“It may be only Wool TV to you, but do you have any idea how many people watch that station?”

“Ten?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Never. I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. You can look it up. And that’s just in this country. I believe it’s syndicated abroad too.”

“Even so, who’s going to remember a silly reality TV show about a wool shop?”

“Maybe people won’t remember the program, but I think they might remember me.”

Wow! Just wow!

“You really have let this go to your head, haven’t you?”

“I’ve had three hundred and sixty-five emails.”

“All complaining about Everlasting Wool?”

“All wanting a signed photograph of yours truly.”

I laughed. “Yeah, funny.”

“Would you like to see them?”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly. And not only that. I have over four thousand friends on my Facebook page.”

“Four thousand? How many did you have before?”

“Twelve.”

“Are they real people?”

“Of course they’re real. They’re my fans.”

“Fans?”

“What else would you call them?”

“Inmates?”

“I should have known you wouldn’t give me any credit, but I’ll have you know that lots of people enjoyed my performance.”

“Excuse me.” I sniggered. “Did you just say
performance
? You weren’t in a play. You were working in a wool shop.”

“As I was saying, a lot of people have said my performance stole the show. They reckon I have a pleasing personality. I’m actually thinking of starting my own fan club. And, there’s talk of a second series because it was so popular.”

“What does Grandma think of that idea?”

“She’s not so keen.”

“How come?”

“It didn’t turn out the way she’d hoped. She thought sales would go through the roof, but all it did was attract everyone with a grievance to come and air their complaints live on TV.”

“Oh dear.” I really shouldn’t laugh. Snigger.

“Your grandmother had a lot of emails too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but they all said what a horrible person she was.”

“Will you take part in a second series if there is one?”

“I might unless I get a better offer.”

“Better offer? From who?”

“You know how it is. Reality TV celebrities end up on all sorts of quiz programs and panel games. I might even get asked to go into the jungle.”

Oh boy!

Chapter 16

I couldn’t understand why I was finding it so hard to pin down Sandra Bell, so I called in on Coral Fish.

“Morning, Jill. Any progress?”

“Not a lot, to be honest. I’ve been trying to track down Sandra Bell for days, but I’m not having much luck.”

“That’s my fault. I should have mentioned that she isn’t based here permanently. She’s more of an independent contractor. She mainly handles P.R. in the private sector. You’re in luck, though. I’m due to meet her later today. You can use my office to talk to her before we start our meeting, if you like?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

As Sandra Bell wasn’t due to arrive for a couple of hours, I decided to take a well-earned break at Cuppy C.

What? P.I. work can be mentally demanding. And blueberry muffins are renowned for their brain cell regeneration powers.

***

The twins were giddy with excitement. I’d completely forgotten it was the first of their craft days.

“Jill! We knew you’d want to be here for the pottery demonstration,” Amber said.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

They’d brought in a couple of assistants to help them cope with the extra customers they were expecting, but with fifteen minutes to go before the start, it wasn’t looking very promising. There were only five customers in the whole shop, and one of them was the husband of the woman who would be doing the demonstration. Still, Amber and Pearl were still upbeat, and confident that everything would turn out well.

“We’ve run an ad in The Candle,” Amber said. “It cost a small fortune, but it’ll be worth it. We’ll show Miles Best who he’s dealing with.”

Pearl introduced me to the woman who was sitting behind the potter’s wheel. “Jill, this is Matilda, Matilda Waltz. She’ll be doing the demonstration today.”

“Nice to meet you, Jill.” Matilda offered me her hand which was caked in clay. Yuk! “Have you ever thrown a pot, Jill?”

“I can’t say I have.” Unless you count those I’ve hurled at Winky.

“You’re welcome to have a go, if you’d like to.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll just watch.”

When it was time for Matilda to begin, there were still only seven people in the shop, and they seemed to be regulars who were just there for a drink and a cake. No one appeared to be taking any notice of Matilda. The twins were beginning to look a little concerned.

Matilda obviously knew her stuff, but her voice was boring and monotonous. I saw a couple of people drink up and leave much quicker than they would normally have done. This wasn’t good. She seemed to be driving the customers away.

After half an hour, there were only three customers left in the shop; the whole thing had clearly been a disaster. Across the road at Best Cakes, the place was absolutely packed, so I decided to check out what entertainment they had on. It was so busy over there that it was difficult to see, but I eventually caught a glimpse of the performer—it was a sword swallower. Cuppy C’s pottery demonstration was never going to compete with that.

When Matilda had cleared away her stuff and left, I sat down with the twins. They were trying to remain upbeat.

“How did you think it went today?” I asked.

“A little disappointing,” Amber admitted.

“Yeah, we thought we might get a few more through the door,” Pearl said. “Still, the next one will be better.”

“What is it next time?”

“Origami.”

Oh dear.

***

“Organising P.R. for the museum can be quite challenging,” Sandra Bell said. “It’s a very hard sell. Unfortunately, there’s nothing glamorous about a museum. Nothing exciting—certainly not for the youngsters. It’s a horrible thing to say, but when I heard that the wand had gone missing, my first thought was that it would make a great story.”

Sandra Bell was your typical P.R. type. Larger than life, and bubbling over with enthusiasm.

“Did you suggest that to Coral?”

“Of course, but she shot me down in flames. Coral doesn’t subscribe to the idea that ‘No publicity is bad publicity’. But, I’m still hoping to change her mind. That’s partly what our meeting is about today. The Candle would be all over a story like this.”

“Do you think Coral will let you run it?”

“Knowing her, probably not. It might help if you backed me up.”

“Me? Why would she listen to me?”

“A story in The Candle might generate some leads for you to follow up.”

That was certainly true, but it would also bring out the nutjobs who always latched onto this kind of thing:

I think my pet snake has swallowed the wand. He’s been all out of shape recently.

I saw the wand in my newsagent, but it was a different colour and a different shape.

I saw it in the zoo. Or maybe that was a Zebra.

“Sorry, but I don’t think I should get involved. I wouldn’t feel right about putting pressure on Coral to publicise the theft.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugged. “What do you think are the chances of finding it?”

“I honestly don’t know. There’s very little to go on at the moment, but I’m still hopeful.”

“If you don’t find it, I think this place is finished. The museum without the wand will be just an empty shell.” She checked her watch. “Sorry, but I’ll have to catch up with Coral now. I have another appointment straight after that one.”

“Good luck trying to get her to change her mind.”

“Thanks. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

***

Wands or War? Who comes up with this rubbish?

I wanted to pay them a visit, but first I needed to find out as much about the organisation as I could. In the human world, I would have simply turned to my trusty friend, Google, but in Candlefield there was no internet, so I had to rely on the library. I managed to dig up a little information in the archive section—The Candle had run a few articles on them. W.O.W. believed that a witch’s wand was far more than just a symbol. To them, it was the very essence of witchcraft. They’d campaigned long and hard to bring back the wand, but with little success, apparently. They believed it should be mandatory for witches to carry a wand with them at all times. It was a very radical position, and one that didn’t seem to have garnered much support. W.O.W. had held numerous demonstrations and sit ins—they’d even chained themselves to the Town Hall railings once. And whilst this had attracted a certain amount of publicity, it didn’t appear to have translated into increased support.

I’d managed to find an address for what was apparently W.O.W’s headquarters—it was very near to Beryl Christy’s bakery. The name on the building was The Cheese Exchange—I had no idea why. W.O.W. had a small office on the first floor. The witch who answered the door had her hair combed in a centre parting with purple hair on one side, and green on the other. A few stray strands of green hair had drifted over to the purple side, but I didn’t feel it was my place to point it out. She was wearing a conventional witch’s costume—the only other time I’d seen a witch do that had been in the tournaments. There was a wand poking out from one of her pockets.

“Hi, my name’s Jill Gooder. I’m a private investigator. Would it be possible to speak to whoever’s in charge?”

She eyed me up and down for the longest moment. “Wait here,” she said. Then she slammed the door in my face.

I was left kicking my heels for several minutes, and was beginning to think that no one was going to talk to me. But, then the door opened again. This time, it was a tall witch with tight, curly blonde hair who came to the door. She too was dressed in full witch’s outfit, and was holding a wand, which she pointed at me.

“A private investigator, you say?”

“That’s right.”

“What do you want with us?”

“I’d just like to ask a few questions.”

“What about?”

“The Wand of Magna.”

“I see. You’d better come in.”

The interior of the office was very dingy, and smelled of cheese. Perhaps a legacy of the Cheese Exchange? There were another two witches inside; they too were dressed in conventional witch’s outfits, and both had wands.

“My name’s Desdemona.” It was the tall witch with the tight, curly, blonde hair who spoke. “Come into my office; we can talk there.”

I followed her through to an even smaller room which had a single light set in the ceiling. For some reason, it had been fitted with a red bulb—it was like being in a photographer’s dark room.

“Sit!” Desdemona pointed to one of two plastic chairs next to a plastic table.

“Thank you. I understand your organisation has been campaigning for the return of wands.”

“That’s our raison d’etre, but you said you wanted to ask about the Wand of Magna.”

“I assume you’re familiar with it?”

“Of course I’m familiar with it. We at W.O.W. hate everything it stands for. It was Magna Mondale who was responsible for persuading witches to forsake their wands. If it wasn’t for her, witches would still have them today. You’re a witch. Surely you understand the importance of the wand?”

“I only recently discovered I’m a witch. I honestly haven’t given much thought to the subject of wands.”

“Well, it’s time you did. The wand is as essential to a witch as these robes. That’s what our organisation is about—returning to traditional values.”

“What does the Wand of Magna represent to you?”

“It doesn’t represent anything to me. It just happens to have belonged to the woman who single-handedly did more to damage witchcraft than anyone before or since.”

“Okay. Let me get this straight. If the museum was to offer you the wand to use as part of your campaign, would you accept it?”

“Of course not. All that fuss over one wand is ridiculous. We want
all
witches to have wands.”

“Do you have any demonstrations planned at the moment?”

“Do you seriously think I’d tell you if we did? We’re a guerrilla organisation. We strike when no one expects it, in order to cause the maximum disruption.”

“Of course. How many members are there in W.O.W?”

“Including those here today?”

“Yeah.”

“Thirteen.” She hesitated. “Well, twelve now, I suppose. Deirdre has defected.”

“Deirdre?”

“Yeah. She couldn’t handle the smell of cheese. Lactose intolerant, I believe.”

“I see. Well, thank you very much for your time. It’s been illuminating.”

Wow! Or should I say W.O.W?

I came away convinced that W.O.W. were unlikely to have been behind the theft. Not just because they appeared to have little or no interest in the wand, but also because they were quite clearly graduates from the school of nutjobs.

***

It was time to report back to Coral Fish.

“Hi, Jill. Any news?”

“Nothing so far I’m afraid. Your staff have been extremely helpful though. Elizabeth put me onto W.O.W.”

“Do you think they might have stolen it?”

“I thought it was a possibility, but having spoken to their leaders, I’m not convinced they’d have the combined IQ to organise such a thing.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“Sandra told me she’d like to let the press have the story. That might help.”

“No! I’ve already told her that’s a non-starter.”

“Fair enough. I had thought I might find some clues somewhere in the museum, but I’ve covered it from top to bottom, except the sealed room of course. No joy so far, I’m afraid.”

“Do you have any theories, at least?”

“The fact that you haven’t received a demand of any kind suggests to me that the wand may have ended up in the hands of a collector.”

Coral nodded. “That’s precisely what I think. In some ways I hope it has because then at least that would mean the wand will be safe.”

“I haven’t given up on this case yet. I’m going to try to track down some of the collectors to see if I turn anything up.”

“Thanks, Jill. I really appreciate your help.”