Witch Is When Stuff Got Serious (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 11) (14 page)

Chapter 17

I’d been asked to meet the captains of the three men’s BoundBall teams: Wayne Holloway, the werewolves’ captain, Aaron Benway, the wizards’ captain, and Archie Maine, the vampires’ captain. I was headed for the BoundBall clubhouse, which is where I’d first met them some time ago when I’d been asked to investigate the disappearance of the Candlefield Cup. In fact, I’d discovered that the cup was never
actually
missing, but the incident had led to the resolution of a long-running feud between the wizard team and the other two teams.

“Hello again, gentlemen.”

The three of them greeted me with smiles and handshakes.

“Have a seat, Jill,” Archie said. “It’s really good to see you again.”

“I see the cup’s still here, then?”

“Yes. There haven’t been any more disappearing acts I’m pleased to say. How’s the P.I. business going?”

“Slow, probably best describes it.”

“You’ve no doubt already guessed why we wanted to speak with you?”

“Could it possibly be about a certain fundraising event in aid of SupAid?”

“The three of us have been discussing this,” Aaron said. “And we’re really not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Rubbish!”

They all seemed taken aback by my blunt response. They’d obviously forgotten how tactful and reserved I could be.

“Surely you should have learned from the mistakes of the past,” I said. “Exclusion is never a good thing. It doesn’t matter if it’s exclusion based on sup type, as happened to the wizards, or exclusion based on gender.”

“But women have never played BoundBall,” Wayne said.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Women most certainly
do
play BoundBall. Not in the same numbers as men, granted. The problem is their sport gets no coverage whatsoever. They’re ignored by the press, or worse still, treated as a joke.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true,” Wayne said.

“I can assure you it is. You only have to look at the article The Candle ran on this event. You’d be hard pressed to find a more patronising and condescending piece of sports journalism. Anyway, what harm can it possibly do? Surely it’s all about the game, regardless of gender?”

“I’m not even sure you’ll be able to put a team together in time,” Aaron said.

“That comment just underlines what I’ve already said. Our problem isn’t finding enough players—we already have far more than we need. It’s having to disappoint those who don’t make the cut.”

“Do you intend to play yourself, Jill?” Wayne asked.

“Me? No. I’ve never played the game, but I have agreed to act as team manager. I’ve already appointed a captain who will handle team selection.”

“You seem pretty determined to go ahead with this.”

“Oh, it’s going to happen. Trust me on that one. But, I’m sure the game would be even more successful if you three gentlemen are willing to endorse it.”

They looked at one another as though uncertain what to say or do. Eventually, it was Archie who spoke. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes, Jill?”

“Certainly.” I stepped out of the clubhouse and waited outside. Five minutes later, Archie called me back in.

“Look, Jill, I’ll be completely honest with you. We still have our reservations, but we owe you a great deal for the help you gave us.”

“Does that mean you’ll officially endorse the event?”

“We’ll be happy to.”

“Thank you, gentlemen. And, I trust you’ll all be there on the day?”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world. This is the biggest thing to happen to BoundBall for many a year.”

No pressure then.

***

While I was in Candlefield, I called in to check on Barry.

“I want to go for a walk. Can I go for a walk? Please, Jill, can I go for a walk?”

“Yes, okay, we’ll go to the park.”

“Can we go and get Babs? Can we? Can we go get Babs?”

“I’ll give Dolly a ring now and see if she’s in.”

“Babs is my girlfriend.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure about that. Has she actually said she is?”

“She doesn’t need to—I can tell.”

“Okay, well, I’d better give Dolly a ring first to make sure it’s okay.”

I tried Dolly’s number, but there was no reply, so I gave her daughter, Dorothy, a call.

“I just rang your mother. I was hoping to take Babs for a walk, but she’s not answering her phone.”

“She’s gone away on an artist’s retreat for the weekend, and she’s taken Babs with her.”

“An
artist’s
retreat?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Incidentally, did you know your mum had done a portrait of my sister and her family?”

“Oh dear. How did that work out? As if I didn’t know.”

“I haven’t seen the end result yet.”

“How did your sister take it?”

“She’s still in a state of shock, I think.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“No need for you to apologise. I’m sure Kathy will soon get over it now she’s a TV celebrity.”

“TV celebrity?”

“Do you watch Wool TV?”

“Is there such a thing?”

“That is the correct answer. I’ll explain the next time I see you. I’d better be going because Barry is getting impatient.”

“You’re out of luck, Barry. Babs has gone away for the weekend.”

“Why didn’t she ask me to go with her?”

“I don’t think they had any spare tickets.”

“Can we go to the park, anyway? I like the park. I want to go for a walk.”

“Why not?”

As soon as I’d let Barry off his lead, he began to run around the park, but I’d learned my lesson, so instead of chasing after him, I found a bench, sat down and waited. He’d eventually run out of steam, and come to find me.

I’d been there for about thirty minutes when I spotted Drake in the distance. He was making his way towards the gate at the bottom end of the park. This was my opportunity to have it out with him. But how? I wasn’t sure of the best way to tackle it.

“Drake!” I chased down the path after him, even though I still had no idea what I was going to say.

He turned around. “Hi, Jill. Is Barry with you?”

“Yeah, he’s around somewhere. Look, I’d like a word, if you’ve got a minute.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll get straight to the point.”

“You’re making this sound very serious.”

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come right out with it.”

Oh boy! I wished I’d thought it through first.

“The other day, I let myself into your flat.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but the point is—what I wanted to say—I mean.” This was going well. “Why are all the drawers empty? You have nothing in that flat at all.”

“Oh, that? Right.”

“So?”

“I
was
going to tell you, but I didn’t know how to.”

“Tell me what?”

“I’ve given up the flat.”

“But you’ve barely had time to get settled in. Why?”

“Your grandmother told me that you were seeing someone. A policeman, she said.”

“Grandma told you that?”

“Yes. She seemed to take great delight in doing so.”

“I still don’t understand why you gave up the flat? I thought you wanted it for when you’re in Washbridge on business?”

“Not really. I know that’s what I said, but the truth is I’d hoped that if I had a base in Washbridge, maybe you and I would become closer. So, when I found out that you were with someone, I couldn’t see the point in keeping it on. I moved out a few days ago.”

“I see. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

“That’s okay. Win some, lose some. Look, I can’t hang around. There’s somewhere I need to be.”

“Okay. See you around then, I guess.”

And with that, he was gone. No wonder there was nothing in the flat. I’d had no idea that the only reason he took it on was in the hope that he and I might become closer.

I felt awful.

***

Back at Cuppy C, I was giving Barry some Barkies when Hamlet called to me. I’d been giving him a wide berth because that hamster had a bad habit of spending my money—money I didn’t have.

“Hi, Hamlet. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you, Jill.”

“Are you out of books again?”

“No. We seem to have overcome that little problem. One of our reading club members lives quite close to the library, so he’s able to bring a new supply of books with him to every meeting.”

“That’s great.”

“I do, however, have another slight problem.”

“What’s that?”

“Between you and me, I’m worried that I’m getting a little out of shape.”

He flexed his arms and touched his tummy.

“You look okay to me.”

“It’s kind of you to say that, but I’m afraid it isn’t true. I need to exercise more.”

“But surely you have your wheel?”

“Yes, but that’s only good for cardiovascular exercise. I don’t have any problems in that area; I can run for miles and miles. It’s my body shape I’m worried about. I’m losing definition—even becoming a little flabby in some areas.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“I’m going to need some equipment. I thought maybe some dumbbells would do the trick. Nothing too expensive.”

“I assume that would be rodent edition dumbbells?”

“Of course. I don’t think I could manage the human variety.” He laughed.

“No, quite.”

“I wondered if you could see your way clear to getting some for me? I’d be most grateful.”

“I wish I could, but I haven’t had much work recently, and my finances are stretched to the limit as it is.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to pay; I just need you to collect them. I’ll give you my credit card and the pin number.”

Now, I was confused.

“But, as I understood it, there are no credit cards or debit cards, or plastic of any kind in Candlefield.”

“That’s right—at least for sups. They can’t be trusted with them. But there are credit cards available for rodents. It’s the RodentCash system.”

“O—kay.” I should have known.

***

Bill Ratman was behind the counter in Everything Rodent.

“Have you come back for an e-reader?”

“No. I’m on a different mission today. Hamlet, that’s my hamster, is a bit concerned that he’s out of shape. He’s lost definition, apparently.”

“A common problem,” Bill said. “Most of the hamsters have superb cardiovascular systems because of their wheels, but keeping in shape otherwise can be very difficult for them. Let me guess, he sent you here to look for some equipment to get him back in shape?”

“That’s right. He’s asked me to look at dumbbells.”

“Dumbbells? You can do much better than that. What about a cross-trainer? He could exercise so many different muscle groups with one of those.”

“No, I think I’ll just stick with the dumbbells.”

“Actually, I also run another business—a sort of sister company which is only a couple of streets away. It’s called Rodent Fitness. You may have noticed it?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“I could do a very good deal on twelve months’ membership for your hamster. We have all the latest equipment in there: treadmills, cross trainers, rowing machines, you name it.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to the dumbbells.”

“Okay, sure. They’re over there to the left.”

I made my way over to the rodent exercise equipment. There was everything you could need for a rodent home gym: dumbbells, barbells, and all manner of equipment for bodybuilding and weightlifting.

“Are you sure the prices on these are correct?”

“Oh yes.”

“But they’re so small.”

“But all precision-made.”

I picked up a couple of dumbbells and took them over to the counter. They weighed next to nothing, but I guessed for a hamster they would be quite heavy.

“That’ll be seventy-six pounds, please.”

I was clearly in the wrong business!

I passed Hamlet’s tiny credit card to Bill who put it into a small handheld machine with the word
‘RodentCash’
on it. At first, I struggled to type in the pin because the keys were so small. In the end, I had to get a pen out of my bag, and use the tip to press the keys.

Back at the flat, I put the dumbbells in Hamlet’s cage.