Witch Is Why The Laughter Stopped (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 14) (5 page)

Chapter 6

Jack wasn’t in when I got home from the office. I was standing in the kitchen, looking out of the back window, when I noticed there were three—no four—wait, five mounds of soil in the middle of the lawn. What was going on?

I went outside to check. Mrs Rollo was in her back garden.

“Hi, Jill.”

“Hello, Mrs Rollo.”

She followed my gaze.

“Oh dear. It looks like the mole is back.”

“Mole?”

“We get a lot of moles around these parts. Didn’t you know?”

“No, I don’t remember seeing that on the estate agent’s details. It said, ‘Small lawn to rear,’ not, ‘Small lawn with moles to rear.’ How do I get rid of it?”

“Don’t ask me. I’ve had my fair share of moles too. I’ve tried everything, but I can’t get rid of the pesky little things. I’ve given up.”

“But it’s spoiling my lawn.”

“I know, but what can you do?”

I made my way back inside. Mrs Rollo might have given up the battle, but I was determined not to let a mole spoil my lawn.

“Don’t get comfortable out there, Mr Mole,” I shouted at the window.

“Who are you talking to?”

I hadn’t heard Jack come in.

“To the mole.”

“You’re talking to a mole?”

“Yeah.” I pointed. “Look at all those molehills.”

“Moles are such sweet little creatures.”

“Sweet? There’s nothing sweet about it. It’s spoiling our lawn. If I get hold of it, it won’t be sweet for very long.”

“Don’t forget it’s your turn to cook,” he said.

“It can’t be. I cooked yesterday.”

“No you didn’t. I did. Don’t you remember? We had chicken arrabiata.”

“Oh, yeah.” Drat—his memory was far too good. “I have an idea. Why don’t we get a takeaway?”

“Okay—if you’re paying.”

“We should split it.”

“No chance. It’s your turn to cook. If you can’t be bothered, then you have to pay.”

So mean.

I grabbed my phone, and pulled up a listing of local takeaways. I was used to living in and around Washbridge town centre where there were any number of places to get a takeaway. But here in Smallwash, there were only four to choose from.

“That one looks promising,” Jack said, looking over my shoulder.

“One Minute?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you seen what it says?” I clicked on the link. “Look at this: ‘
We’ll get your takeaway to you in one minute or your money back.
’ How can anybody possibly promise that?”

“That’s what it says, so why not take them up on it?” Jack said. “What do we have to lose? Either we get the food really quickly, or it doesn’t cost anything.”

“You’re so gullible, Jack. Don’t you realise there’ll be small print somewhere that gives them a get-out?”

“I think we should give it a go.”

“Okay. On your head be it.”

We both chose something from the menu. I went for ribs; Jack went for curry. The app was easy to use. After we’d made our selection, I paid by card and pressed ‘Place Order.’

I checked my watch. “It’s six fifty-three, I’ll be surprised if it gets here before—”

There was a knock at the door. Jack gave me a smug look.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It must be Megan or Mrs Rollo. It can’t be the food.” I went to answer the door, leaving Jack in the kitchen.

Standing there, was a man wearing a white t-shirt with the logo of a clock, and underneath it the words,
‘One Minute or Your Money Back.’

“Is this the Gooder residence?”

“Yeah?”

“I have your order. Ribs and curry?”

“You’re a wizard, aren’t you?” I said in a whisper.

“Busted.” He smiled. “And you’re a witch.”

“Shush! My husband’s through there. No wonder you can deliver in one minute. You’re using magic.”

“Of course I’m using magic. How else do you think I could do it?”

“What about the Rogue Retrievers?”

“So far no one’s cottoned on. There aren’t many sups around here—there’s the guy across the road, and a vampire a couple of streets away. The humans don’t care or even notice as long as they get their food quickly. You won’t say anything, will you?”

“Me? No, I won’t say a word.”

“Thanks. I’m Malcolm, by the way.”

“Jill.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jill. Enjoy your meal.”

“Wow!” Jack said, when I brought the food through. “However did they do that?”

“Who cares? Just as long as the food’s good.”

I’d no sooner started on my ribs than my phone rang. It was Kathy.

“Have I caught you in the middle of eating?”

“How did you know?”

“Because it sounds like you’ve got a mouthful of food.”

“We got a takeaway.”

“Are you made of money? Let me guess, it was your turn to cook.”

“I don’t remember whose turn it was.”

“Liar!” She laughed. “Anyway, I rang to tell you that I asked Pete if Sebastian and Jethro have girlfriends. Sebastian does, but Jethro doesn’t. And what’s more, Jethro had already asked Pete about your new P.A.”

“Are you sure it was her he was asking about?”

“I think so. He said it was the girl who was with a guy with acne.”

“That’s Jules.”

“It seems Jethro was quite taken with her, so maybe we can play Cupid.”

“Great. I’ll tell Jules. By the way, did Megan come over to your place?”

“Don’t mention that woman to me.”

“I take it she did, then.”

“Yes, and she brought me flowers—trying to butter me up, no doubt. It didn’t work though. I stayed in the room with them all the time she was here. Pete kept saying I didn’t need to be there, but I wasn’t shifting. I don’t trust her.”

“She actually seems quite nice.”

“Yeah, they all do. I’ve told you, Jill, keep an eye on her. Don’t leave her alone with Jack.”

“But it went okay, did it?”

“I think so. She seemed happy enough when she left.”

***

The next morning, I set off for work before Jack. When I got to the toll bridge, the man in the booth took my money, then said, “Are you Jill by any chance?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought so. A friend of yours asked me to have a word with you.”

“A friend?”

“Mr Ivers.”

“Oh?” That
friend
. “How did you know it was me?”

“He told me which model of car you drove, and said that I’d know it because it was always dirty.”

Cheek! I’d only washed it last month—or the month before that. Definitely within the last six months.

“Anyway, he said to tell you he’s sorry he won’t be seeing you as often because he’s been transferred to the office. He’ll make sure you still get your copy of the newsletter though. He said he’ll let me have it, so I can give it to you, and collect the money.”

“Great. That’s
really
great! Thanks very much.”

As I drove into Washbridge, I noticed that a couple of the billboards at the side of the road had large adverts for Ever A Wool Moment. I was used to seeing the adverts on the buses and taxis, but it seemed Grandma had now extended her reach even further. That woman was a marketing genius.

When I arrived at work, Mrs V gestured to my office. “Your grandmother is waiting for you. I tried to get her to wait out here, but she didn’t take any notice of me.”

Grandma was sitting in
my
chair—at
my
desk. Winky was hiding under the sofa, as he always did when she was around.

“What’s going on behind that screen?” Grandma pointed. “It looks like someone’s building something.”

“It’s an old copying machine. The man said it needs a new part.”

I could hardly tell her it was Winky’s time machine, could I? She already thought I had a few screws loose because I’d turned down the chance to move to level seven.

“So, Grandma, what brings you here at this early hour?”

“It maybe early to you, young lady. I’ve been up since five o’clock. I want to talk to you about the twins. Have a seat.”

“Are the girls all right?”

“That’s a matter of opinion, but, yes, I suppose so.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“I assume you’ve heard about their latest hare-brained scheme?”

“You mean the shop across the road from Ever?”

“Yes. What are they thinking? They can barely make Cuppy C pay, and they have no experience of working and living among humans. It’s a totally different ball game.”

“So it’s not that you’re annoyed because they’re going to be competition for your tea room?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The twins, competition for me? No, I’m worried for them. Nobody’s told me anything, as usual, but from what I can gather, they’ll have to borrow money to finance this madcap idea. What happens when it all goes pear-shaped? They’ll probably end up losing Cuppy C. Then where will they be?”

“Have you talked to them about it?”

“I’ve tried, but you know how it is with young people. They have no respect for their elders. That’s why I came to see you. For some reason, and goodness knows why, they’re far more likely to listen to you than me. So I thought you could have a word, and make them see the folly of their ways.”

“What makes you think they’ll listen to me? I tried to persuade them not to invest in the conveyor belt. Did they listen? Of course not. I might as well have talked to this brick wall.”

“Well, you have to try. You need to change their minds because this could be disastrous.”

“Okay, Grandma, I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t hold out much hope.”

She stood up. “Oh, and I’m pleased to see you got that awful sign of yours changed.”

“Do you like the new one?”

“It’s certainly an improvement. At least this one doesn’t make it look like you’re running a tanning salon.”

***

I found it curious that two dogs should go missing in such a short period of time. But then, it wasn’t really a subject I was familiar with, so maybe it wasn’t so unusual. I decided the best way to find out was to check the archives of The Bugle. Fortunately, I was able to do that at Washbridge library, and didn’t need to go to The Bugle’s offices. I had no desire to bump into Dougal Bugle and his merry men.

On The Bugle’s website, I clicked on the archive link, and then searched on ‘missing dog’ and ‘lost dog’, and every other combination I could think of. It turned up very few results. That didn’t necessarily mean that dogs didn’t go missing in Washbridge, but that such disappearances weren’t newsworthy.

In fact, the only hits in the last five years were the recent advert that Boris Froggatt had placed for his missing dog, and an article from four years earlier. The older article wasn’t specifically about a missing dog—it was a front page article about the murder of a Mr Lewis. The search had thrown up that article because it mentioned that Mr Lewis had been a little down on the days just before his murder because his dog had gone missing.

My P.I. curiosity was piqued. After performing further searches on the name of Joseph Lewis, it became clear that his murderer had never been brought to justice, even though the police had found what they believed to be his DNA on the victim’s clothing. Still, that wasn’t my concern. I was meant to be finding a missing dog, and it was quite obvious that I wasn’t going to get any
leads
from The Bugle archives.

Leads? Get it? Come on, that was funny! Sheesh!

Chapter 7

It was time for my first appearance at the Combined Sup Council. As with many other Candlefield organisations, they met in the town hall. Tabitha Hathaway was waiting for me on the steps outside.

“Hi, Jill, are you nervous?”

“I am a little. I’m not really sure what to expect.”

“Don’t feel any pressure to contribute straight away. Use the first few meetings to get to know people, and to see how we operate.”

She led me inside, and into the meeting room where everyone was already seated.

“As you already know, we have a new member joining us today. Jill Gooder was responsible for ridding Candlefield of TDO—something I’m sure we’re all grateful for. So, everyone, please make Jill welcome.”

I’d heard the Combined Sup Council referred to as ‘the elders,’ and I could see why. I was the youngest person in the room by at least twenty years, maybe more. Many of them looked even older than Grandma. There were all types of sup seated around the table: two vampires, two wizards, three werewolves, a goblin and various others. Curiously, there was only one other witch: a really old lady seated next to me. She introduced herself as Esme Duff, but when I tried to make conversation with her, I found it practically impossible. She was as deaf as a post. How she was going to contribute to the meeting, I couldn’t imagine. Grandma had told me that witches were under-represented on the council, and I could see what she meant.

The meeting turned out to be dreadfully boring. We spent the first thirty minutes poring over the minutes from the previous meeting, at which nothing had happened, apparently. Then, when the meeting-proper actually started, we spent the next fifteen minutes discussing the state of the drains in Candlefield market square. Some people felt very strongly about the situation.

“It’s a disgrace,” Charlie Baxter, one of the werewolves, said. “An absolute disgrace. In the northern corner of the square, there’s always a puddle. It doesn’t matter what the weather is like. It might not have rained for a week, but there’ll still be a puddle there. Something needs to be done about it, and sharpish.”

The last item on the agenda was a discussion on whether the council should recommend an increase to the budget for Rogue Retrievers. At last, this was a subject where I felt I could make a contribution. I knew how stretched Daze normally was—although it had been a little quieter recently, since all the wicked witches had disappeared.

It seemed obvious to me that an increase to the budget could only be a good thing. Unfortunately, no one seemed to share my view.

“They already get too much money as it is,” one of the wizards shouted. “What do they spend it all on?”

“May I say something?” I raised my hand, and everyone turned to look at me. “I regularly work with one of the Rogue Retrievers, and I can tell you that their workload is horrendous. I’m sure that an increased budget would be of great benefit.”

The discussion continued, and eventually a vote was taken. Three people voted with me, but the rest voted against. There would be no budget increase for Daze and her colleagues.

“Right,” Tabitha said. “That concludes everything on the agenda. Unless there’s any other business, we’ll call it—”

I raised my hand again. Everyone around the table looked surprised. Perhaps they didn’t generally bother with any other business.

“Jill, did you want to say something?”

“Yes, there’s one subject I’d like to raise, and that’s the question of the internet.”

“What about it?” an elderly wizard said.

“Don’t you think it’s time the internet was introduced to Candlefield? It’s everywhere else.”

“That may be,” the goblin said. “But we don’t want any new-fangled inventions here in Candlefield.”

“Hear, hear. Hear, hear.”

“Why do we need the internet?” a female werewolf said.

“It’s just a gimmick,” someone else said.

A quick vote was called for, and I was in a minority of one. It made me wonder if anyone at the table had ever ventured to the human world. Had they ever actually used the internet? I had a strong suspicion the answer to both of those questions was ‘no.’ No wonder they’d always blocked any suggestions that the internet should be introduced to Candlefield. Alan, William, and Hamlet were all going to be very disappointed. I intended to continue to push the issue, but I was probably fighting a losing battle.

When the meeting broke up, I felt as though I’d achieved nothing. I wasn’t impressed by the council. They desperately needed some young blood on there—people with new and exciting ideas. This lot were too stuck in their ways.

I’d promised Hamlet that I’d pick up an application form for Rodent Match from ‘Everything Rodent.’ I hadn’t visited the shop for a while, but just as before, Bill Ratman was behind the counter.

“I know you, don’t I?” he said. “I never forget a face.”

“Jill Gooder. I have a hamster, Hamlet.”

“Oh yes, I remember. Let me think now—you bought some dumbbells for him.”

“That’s right, yes.”

“How is he getting on with those?”

“I’m not sure he’s actually using them. I can’t say I’ve noticed any difference in his appearance.”

“He’s probably got bored with them. A lot of hamsters buy weights, and are full of good intentions, but they soon get fed up. It’s the same with Rodent Gym membership. So, what can I do for you, today?”

“I’m after an application form for Rodent Match, please.”

“You’re out of luck, I’m afraid.”

“Why’s that?”

“Rodent Match haven’t sent me any for a while, and I’ve run out.”

“I can’t tell Hamlet that; he’ll be devastated. Is there nothing you can do?”

“I can give you the address of Rodent Match, if you like. You could go around there to see if you can get one. If you do, perhaps you’d bring some back for me?”

Rodent Match was based at thirty-one Chinchilla Road, which was a fifteen-minute walk from Everything Rodent. When I got there, the whole street was full of very small offices with very small doors. Presumably, all of the businesses there were run by rodents. I knocked on the door of number thirty-one.

“Come in,” a tiny voice shouted.

I had to shrink myself to get through the door. Once inside, I found a dormouse behind a desk.

“Hello there.” He smiled. “We don’t get many witches in here. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’ve just been to Everything Rodent to pick up an application form for Rodent Match.”

“I’m very sorry, but
you
can’t join. Rodent Match is strictly for rodents.”

“The form isn’t for me. It’s for my hamster, Hamlet.”

“Doesn’t he run a book club?”

“That’s him, yes.”

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

“But Bill Ratman at Everything Rodent said you’d have some.”

“Normally we would, but the ink has run out on the laser printer. I’m waiting for a new toner cartridge.”

“Where’s that coming from?”

“Everything Rodent. If you could pop back down there and get me one, I could print some forms. I’ve got an account with him, so you wouldn’t need to pay.”

“Right.” I sighed. “Okay.”

Another fifteen-minute walk later, and I was back at Everything Rodent where I collected a toner cartridge from Bill Ratman. Then I made the return journey to Rodent Match, where I waited until the dormouse had printed off the application forms.

“There you go. There’s about a hundred of them there. Take one for yourself, and then if you could drop the rest in at Everything Rodent, that would be great.”

“Sure. No problem. Thanks.”

This time it took twenty minutes to make my way back to Everything Rodent because I was shattered.

“You look tired,” Bill said.

“I’m exhausted. I’ve spent the last hour walking backwards and forwards between here and Rodent Match. Here are the application forms.”

“Thank you. Don’t forget to take one for Hamlet.”

I was on my last legs when I got back to Aunt Lucy’s. There was no one home, so I let myself in, and made my way upstairs. Barry came bouncing over to me.

“Can we go for a walk, Jill? Jill, can we go for a walk? I love to walk. Can we go now?”

“I’m sorry, Barry, I can’t take you right now. I’m too tired.”

“Aw, Jill, please.”

“Aunt Lucy will take you out later. Here, have some Barkies.” I threw him a handful, and that seemed to satisfy him.

“Hello again, Jill.” Hamlet looked surprised to see me. “What brings you back so soon?”

“I’ve got the application form for Rodent Match, just like you asked.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered. I’ve changed my mind. Females are more trouble than they’re worth.” He gave me a puzzled look. “Are you feeling okay? You’ve gone awfully red in the face.”

***

I’d only just got back to the house, when there was a knock at the door. Was it Mrs Rollo with yet another one of her baking masterpieces? Or Megan, wanting yet more information from Peter? Worse still, it could be Mr Hosey.

Whoever it was, knocked again.

“Jen?”

“Do you have a minute, Jill?”

“Sure. Come on in. Are you okay?” She looked a little stressed.

“I’ve been a nervous wreck ever since I asked you to check on Blake. I realise it’s only been a couple of days, but I have to know if you’ve found anything?”

Little did Jen know that I hadn’t been keeping tabs on Blake at all. He and I had agreed that I’d pretend to follow him, just to put Jen’s mind at rest.

“There’s nothing to report. I’ve followed him as promised, but he hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “So he’s not seeing anyone?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“I feel bad now. That I doubted him. It’s just that I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something he was holding back from me.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing. Blake loves you.”

“I know. I’m just being silly.”

She took my hand in both of hers.

“Thanks very much, Jill. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I take it you don’t want me to keep following him?”

“I know this sounds terrible, but maybe you could continue, just for another couple of days. That way, I’ll know for certain.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’ll be money well spent, and then I can put all this behind me, and we can get on with our lives.”

“Okay, I’ll be happy to.”

“Thanks. I’d better go. I want to be home before Blake arrives. You won’t mention any of this to him, will you?”

“No, of course not.”

I hated being put in that position. I felt I had to support Blake because he was a fellow sup, but I didn’t like lying to Jen. She was such a nice person. Then I had a brainwave. If I actually
did
follow Blake—just for a few hours—I’d be able to tell Jen that I’d been tailing him, and I wouldn’t be lying. I had nothing booked for the next morning, so decided that’s what I’d do.

When Jack came in a couple of hours later, he was in a foul mood. Every time I spoke to him, he snapped my head off.

“What’s the matter with you?” I snapped back.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that, Jack. You’ve been like a bear with a sore head ever since you walked in. I don’t know what’s happened at work, but don’t take it out on me.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “You’re right. It’s not your fault.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I had to go back to Washbridge station today. It’s one of the cases I worked on, which is still ongoing. They needed my input, so rather than spend hours on the phone, my old gaffer asked if I’d come over to brief the new guy and his team.”

“Leo Riley?”

“None other.”

“Is he the one who’s rubbed you up the wrong way?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t really want to get into it.”

“Tell me! What did he do?”

“If you must know, he was bad-mouthing you.”

“What did he say?”

“That he’s only been in Washbridge for five minutes, but he seems to trip over you at every turn. He said it was my fault for allowing you to get involved with cases on my watch.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him if he didn’t shut his mouth, I’d punch him.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“No, but think how much better I’d feel.”

“I appreciate you sticking up for me, but you don’t have to fight my battles. I’m quite capable of handling Leo Riley.”

“I know you are. And to be honest, I hope you give him as much grief as you possibly can.”

“I’ll do my best.” I pulled him towards me. “You’re so sweet, trying to look out for me. There must be some way I can show my gratitude.”