Witch Is When Things Fell Apart (12 page)

“A trillion pounds?”

“Close. A voucher for a manicure and pedicure.” She grinned inanely. “For two!”

“Don’t look at me.” I shook my head. “No! No way.”

“It’ll be great.”

“I can’t have anyone touching my feet.” I shuddered at the thought.

“We can get our nails done for the twins’ birthday night out. I’ll book us in.”

Chapter 12

“You have a visitor,” Mrs V whispered when I arrived at the office.

“Who?”

“Your grandmother. She doesn’t look happy.”

When did she ever?

“Morning, Grandma. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“I’m on to you.” She pointed a crooked finger at me—at least I think it was at me—it was hard to tell.

“What have I done now?”

“Don’t come the innocent with me, missy. You used the ‘sleep’ spell on Mrs G.”

“How can you even suggest such a thing? You would have known if I had.”

“You’re right. I would have known—IF I’D BEEN THERE. But I was at the TV studios for an interview—THAT NO ONE KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT!”

“Oh dear. I wonder how that could have happened. There must have been some kind of mix up.”

“Your mother was just the same.” Grandma snorted. “Thought she knew it all. Thought she was clever. Looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“I wonder who she got it from.”

I really should learn when to keep my mouth shut. For instance, when Grandma’s wart began to glow red would have been a good time to stay quiet.

“You’d better win the Levels, or you’ll be sorry.” With that she stomped out of my office, slamming the door closed behind her.

Winky came out from under my desk where he’d been hiding while Grandma went off on one. “I wouldn’t like to see her when she’s angry. Sounds to me like you are in her bad books.”

“When aren’t I?”

It was at times like this that I was pleased Mrs V was a little on the deaf side. I wouldn’t have wanted her to find out that I’d used a little magic to
‘assist’
her win.

The Tregar case was getting under my skin—nothing made sense. How and when had Alan Dennis been stabbed? There was no sign of the attack taking place during that last, fateful lift ride. He’d been standing at the very front, which meant that only his head and shoulders were visible on CCTV, so it was possible he’d already been stabbed before he entered the lift. But surely the other people in the lift would have noticed if he’d been bleeding. Or would they? No one in that apartment block seemed very interested in their neighbours. By their own admission, they all kept themselves to themselves. Was it possible that they had all been so involved with their own thoughts that they hadn’t noticed the man was bleeding? In the absence of any other bright ideas, that was the theory I was working on.

I intended to do more digging around into the backgrounds of Jason Allan and Darcy James—I wanted to know why they’d denied knowing one another when all the evidence suggested otherwise. More importantly, I wanted to know how they could afford to live at Tregar Court.

It wasn’t difficult to trace previous addresses for them. Darcy James didn’t stay in one place for long—I had a list of five previous addresses for her. By contrast, there was only one previous address for Jason Allan. My curiosity was piqued because that address was in one of the most run-down areas of Washbridge. It was hard to imagine how anyone could have gone straight from there to Tregar Court—maybe he’d won the lottery?

The Sunnyside estate had the highest crime rate in Washbridge. If newspaper reports were to be believed (were they ever?), it had become a virtual no-go area for the police. Fortunately, the address I needed was close to the edge of the estate. I didn’t want to risk getting back to the car to find it minus its wheels, so I parked half a mile away and made my way on foot. When the estate had first been built, over half a century before, it had been considered state of the art. Those days were now long gone. Most of the houses were in dire need of repair, and many were empty—boarded up to deter squatters. I soon found the address I was looking for. The ground floor windows and door had been boarded up—the upstairs windows were all broken. No one had lived there for some considerable time. From the gate, I saw movement in the ground floor window of the adjoining property. I waved to catch their attention.

“Sorry to trouble you,” I said when the neighbour came out into the garden.

“It’s no trouble, dear.” The old woman’s slippers looked two sizes too big for her. “Are you looking for someone?”

“The Allan family.”

“They’re long gone. I was just about to make a cuppa. Care to join me?”

“Thanks. That would be nice.”

Mrs Deirdre Downs made a remarkably good cup of tea, but the real bonus came when she offered me a custard cream straight out of the packet. The interior of her house was very seventies, and spotlessly clean.

“Did you know the Allans?”

“Me and Gina were good friends. We both moved in about the same time. Our kids used to play together.”

“You knew Jason then?”

“Yeah. Funny lad. Harmless though. He was a carpet fitter, I think. Stayed with his mother right until she died— cancer—poor thing.”

“Did Gina have any other children?”

“A girl—Sarah. A bit lippy, but a good heart.”

“What about the father?”

“
Fathers
. Gina was pregnant with Jason when she moved here. I never did get the full story on what happened with
his
dad. Gina had Sarah with Benny. He died a few years before Gina—heart attack.”

“So Jason lived here until his mother died?”

She nodded. “Yeah, don’t know what happened to him then. He just seemed to disappear. I hope he’s all right.”

“He’s alive and well. Do you have any idea where I might find his sister?”

“She lives on the Pleaston estate, I think. Done all right for herself.”

Not as well as Jason apparently.

“Her name’s Sarah Conway now,” Deirdre said. “She married a nice young man. Civil servant I believe.”

Twenty minutes and two more custard creams later, I thanked her, and set off back to the car.

I’d only gone a few hundred yards when I found my way blocked by three teenagers. The ringleader was a girl, who looked no more than seventeen. All tattoos and piercings, she spoke through a mouthful of gum. Her male sidekicks, Little and Large, were criminally ugly.

“Get out of my way please,” I said.

“Give us your phone and your money or he’ll cut you.” Tattoos gestured to Little who drew a knife.

“I asked you to get out of my way.”

Little took a step towards me, so I cast the ‘illusion’ spell. He dropped the knife like a hot potato.

“What’s up wi’ you?” she shouted at her henchman.

“It—I—Err.” The poor guy was staring at what appeared to him to be a snake.

Large stepped forward. His knife was longer than his cohort’s, but he dropped it just as quickly.

“Pick ‘em up!” she screamed.

The two boys were transfixed—too scared to approach the snakes.

“Get out the way!” she screamed in frustration. As she stooped to pick up one of the knives, I cast the ‘illusion’ spell for a third time. Tattoos fell onto her backside as she reeled away from the snakes.

The three of them were still staring at the knives as I strolled past them. I’d be at my car by the time the spells wore off.

Mrs V was still glowing from the victory over her sister. It had been worth the risk of being on the receiving end of Grandma’s wrath to see Mrs V so happy.

“A man came here while you were out.” Mrs V was knitting a pink sock today. “He wanted to look around and take measurements. I told him he’d have to speak to you first.”

“It wasn’t Maurice Montage again, was it?”

“No. he didn't give his name. He just said he’d come back later.”

“Okay. How is the Everlasting Wool working out?”

“It’s fine. The problem is that my subscription only allows me to use a single colour. Not that I’m complaining because it didn’t cost me anything. If you want to use more colours though, you have to increase your monthly payments.”

Clever. Grandma reels them in with a low opening offer, and then upsells them when they’re hooked.

Winky was on the window sill, flags in hand. I thought he’d abandoned the semaphore.

“Morning, cat. How’s the love life?”

He ignored me—too busy waving his flags around.

“I’m fine, Jill,” I answered myself. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”

Winky gave me a one-eyed look of disdain.

“Thank you for asking, Winky. I’m fine too.”

“They’ll lock you away if you keep talking to yourself,” Winky said, still signalling with his flags.

“Whereas, talking to a cat—totally sane.”

Winky dropped the flags, jumped down from the window sill, and onto my desk.

“Don’t you dare scratch it!” I screamed.

“I need your help.” He fixed me with his one eye.

“The answer is no.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“I am not having the office re-imagined.”

“I know that. I was just messing with your head. Bella has asked me over on a date.”

“Bella, the neighbourhood flirt?”

“That was all a misunderstanding. It’s just her and me now. She has invited me for dinner, but I’ll need you to take me over there.”

“What about her owners?”

“Owners? No one
owns
her.”

“Look, what I mean is. It’s like you and me—”

“Exactly. I chose you
ergo
I’m in charge. Same for Bella.”

“Ergo?”

“It’s Latin.”

“You speak Latin?”

“Doesn’t everyone? Look I need you to take me over there. Okay?”

“Sure, why not?” At least then one of us would have a love life.

Some days it felt like I was living in a kind of parallel universe.

“That man is back,” Mrs V said. “The one who called earlier—the one who wanted to look around.”

“You’d better show him in.”

“Ms Gooder. Thank you for seeing me.”

I had an irrational distrust of any man who wore a handkerchief in the breast pocket of his jacket.

“My name is Gordon Armitage.”

Despite my reservations vis-a-vis the handkerchief, I shook his hand.

“Ms Gooder, I wanted to—”

“Call me Jill, please.”

“And you must call me Gordon.”

“What can I do for you, Gordon?”

“You’ve no doubt seen our offices, next door. Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole.”

“Yes, I think so. Which one are you?”

“Sorry?”

“Armitage, Armitage or Armitage?”

“The first one.”

Winky chose that moment to jump onto the window sill.

“You have a cat?” Armitage did a double-take.

“That’s Winky.”

“He’s only got one—”

“Eye, yes. Hence the name.”

“Winky.” He laughed. “Of course. Funny.”

“So how can I help you, Gordon?”

“Our practice is growing quite rapidly, and the truth is, we’re running out of space. We need to expand.”

I had a fair idea where this conversation was headed, but decided to play dumb. “I’m still not sure how I can help.”

“The obvious move would be for us to expand into the building next door.”

“This one?”

“Precisely.”

“I see a minor flaw in your plan, Gordon. I’m already here, and there are two other businesses in this building.”

“We’ve already come to an agreement with the others. They’re going to relocate, and in return we will recompense them generously. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve no intention of relocating. This was my father’s office—”

“A sentimental attachment. I can understand that. Still, I’m sure for the right figure—”

“Sorry. I’m here to stay. You’ll have to rethink your expansion plans. There’s a larger property over the road which is standing empty. Maybe you should check that out.”

“Name your figure.” Gordon’s cheery disposition had disappeared.

“I don’t have a figure. I have no interest in moving.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He glanced at Winky. “Does the landlord know that you are keeping animals on the premises?”

“It’s been a pleasure, Gordon.” I walked over to the door, and opened it. “But I’d like you to leave now.”

“You’ll be hearing from me again,” he said as he left.

“Looking forward to it.”

“What did he want?” Mrs V asked.

“He’s from next door. He wants us out so they can expand into this building.”

“What did you tell him?”

“To do one.”