Witch Is When the Penny Dropped (11 page)

Chapter 16

Suddenly the atmosphere inside Cuppy C changed. Everyone fell silent, and all eyes were on the door.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Pearl.

“It’s Ma Chivers,” she whispered back.

I was on record as saying Grandma was the ugliest witch I’d ever met. Well, I’d just changed my mind. Ma Chivers made Grandma look positively beautiful. And she was big—not fat—just big. Very big! Like ‘don’t stand in her way or you’ll be bulldozed’ big. And where Grandma had a giant wart on the end of her nose, this woman’s face was covered in them. And most of them were hairy. Gross!

Everyone stood aside as she made her way towards the table at the back. Trailing behind her were four smaller, younger witches.

“That’s part of her entourage,” Amber whispered.

After a few moments, the conversations in the room started up again, but everyone seemed to have one eye on Ma Chivers. One of her minions ordered drinks and cakes for the group. For a big woman, Ma Chivers spoke very softly. I’d hoped I might overhear her conversation, but there was no chance. I considered using the ‘listen’ spell, but figured a level six witch would realise what I was doing.

Pearl checked her watch. “We have to go now.”

“Go where?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Come on.” Amber grabbed my arm. “You’ll thank us.”

They virtually dragged me along the street.

“Where are we going?”

“Mum’s.”

“What about the shop? Will it be okay with Ma Chivers in there?”

“It’ll be fine. She’s been in a few times since she came back.”

When we walked into the kitchen, Aunt Lucy barely registered our presence. She was too busy staring out of the window.

“Make room for us.” Amber nudged her mother aside.

There was hardly enough space for me to squeeze in, but when I eventually did, it was worth it.

“He gets better looking every time I see him,” Amber said.

“No kidding.” Pearl’s mouth was hanging open.

The three of them were mesmerised by Aunt Lucy’s gardener, Jethro, who was Lutheresque in terms of physique and good looks—not that I’d noticed.

“One man shouldn’t be so hot.” Amber was almost drooling.

“The three of you shouldn’t even be looking,” I said, in my most self-righteous voice. “You all have partners. What would they think if they could see you now?”

It was like talking to a brick wall. It was Jethro-time and nothing was going to interrupt that.

Only when Jethro had finally finished his stint and left, did things get back to normal.

“You two should be ashamed of yourselves. You both have a fiancé,” Aunt Lucy said.

Amber and Pearl exchanged a glance.

“You can’t talk, Mum,” Amber said. “You were drooling too.”

“I have never drooled.”

She so had, but I wasn’t getting involved.

“It’s a good job Lester doesn’t live here, or he might have seen you.” Pearl sniggered.

The twins knew as well as I did that Lester had all but moved in already. I was waiting for one of them to give the game away, but remarkably they kept quiet.

When I got the opportunity, I pulled Aunt Lucy to one side.

“Thanks for taking Barry for the
you-know-what
.”

“I thought I’d better. I could see you were a little squeamish.”

“It wasn’t that,” I lied. “It’s just—err—that I’ve been rather busy. You know how it is.”

“Oh, I know exactly how it is.” She gave me a knowing smile.

***

Mrs V was busy on her laptop.

“No more noise from next door?” I asked.

“Not a whisper. Whatever you did seems to have done the trick.”

“Any potential new clients?”

“One man did come in this morning.”

“Oh. What did he want?”

“Nothing. He’d taken a wrong turning. He was looking for Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole.”

Great. If things didn’t start to look up soon, I’d have to make the ultimate sacrifice. I’d have to ask Grandma to give me the benefit of her marketing expertise. Even the thought of it made me want to cry.

“You haven’t forgotten about tonight, have you, dear?”

Tonight? What was happening tonight?

“No, of course not.”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Yes. Eight o’clock. Tonight.”

“You haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about have you?”

I was so transparent. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“It’s my first studio interview for Wool TV.”

“Yes. Of course. Have they told you who it is you’ll be interviewing yet?”

“No. I wish they would, but they insist they’re going for spontaneity. Don’t forget to tune in.”

Winky’s flags were on the window sill. The cat himself was on my desk, at my computer—as usual.

“I haven’t seen you flagging Bella for a while.”

He sighed. I was obviously disturbing his creative juices. “Flagging?”

“You know what I mean. Semaphore.”

“Bella understands. We’re both busy people. As soon as I have this manuscript put to bed, I’ll be able to spare her some time.”

“So generous. I’m sure she’ll be really grateful.”

“She should be. It isn’t everyone who gets the opportunity to date an award winning author.”

“Isn’t that a little premature? You’ve got to finish the book first. How’s it coming along anyway?”

“I’m not sure the term ‘book’ does it justice.”

“Isn’t it just a story about a wizard?”

Winky stopped what he was doing, and fixed me with a one-eyed gaze. “
Just a story
? What do you mean,
just a story
?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s a work of great literary merit is it? It’s not going to win the Booker is it?”

He gave me a stony, one-eyed look.

“Anyway,” I said. “I was thinking. If it does get made into a film, is there a role for an attractive young woman in there?”

“Why, do you know one?” He laughed. “Only kidding. As it happens, there is. The main female character is a young witch about your age.”

“Maybe I could play the part?”

“You’d be ideal.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not.” He laughed. “Why would they cast you when they can have some Hollywood A-lister? A real looker.”

“I’m a looker.”

He laughed so hard, he fell off the desk.

“You can get your own food,” I said on my way out.

***

I found Spick and Span in the Yellow Pages. They had a small office on a trading estate close to Washbridge City Park. I’d tried to call a couple of times, but got the answerphone on both occasions. I’d only been waiting a few minutes when a van pulled into one of the four parking spaces in front of the building. The woman who climbed out looked to be in her late thirties. She had short hair and a long neck. Not a good combo.

“Hi!” I shouted to her.

“Hi.”

“I’m Jill Gooder. I tried to call you.”

“You should have left a message on the machine.”

“I’d rather speak face to face. You are?”

“Brenda Spick.”

I smiled. “That’s very good.”

“What?” She looked puzzled.

“You did say Spick?”

“That’s right.”

“So, the name of the company? Spick and—”

“Span. Terry Span is my partner.”

Was she joking? She had to be joking.

“I thought the names were—err—you know.”

She looked confused. “What?”

“You know. Spick and span. As in all spick and span. No?” Just me then.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

”I understand you clean some of the apartments in the East Side development?”

“You mean the one where the woman was murdered?”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t know anything about that. I only went in once a month. The last time was two weeks before the murder.”

“Do you have a key?”

“Look, who are you anyway?”

“Sorry. I’m a private investigator.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Just a couple of questions, and then I’ll be on my way.”

She sighed, but didn’t walk away.

“You say you only cleaned the apartment once a month. Is that usual?”

“No. Most people want a clean every week or every two weeks, but to be honest that apartment didn’t even need me to go in as often as I did. There was nothing to do—I don’t think anyone was actually living there.”

“What about the owner?”

“I never met him.”

“What, never? What about when you first took on the contract?”

“It was all arranged over the phone.”

“What if there was a problem?”

“I had a number to call, but I never used it because there was never a problem.”

“Was there anything odd about the apartment itself?”

“No. Apart from the fact that no one appeared to live there. I just did the cleaning according to the instructions, and—”

“Instructions?”

“Yes. The owner was very particular about how he wanted the apartment to be cleaned. I could vacuum throughout, but I wasn’t allowed to wipe down the work surfaces or polish the doors. I was allowed to dust them though.”

“Isn’t that a little strange?”

“When you’ve been doing this job as long as I have, you get used to weird requests. I’ve had much stranger.”

“Okay, thanks. You mentioned a number. Could you let me have it?”

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

“It’s really important. It may help to find the murderer.”

She looked uncertain, but said, “I suppose it can’t do any harm. It’s not like they’ll be needing my services now.”

Once I was back in my car, I called the number. It rang out—there was no answer or even voicemail.

***

That evening I was about to settle down with a good book, and an even better packet of custard creams when there was a knock on my door. Was it Luther? I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Or maybe Mr Ivers here to demand his cancellation fee? Or Betty looking for someone to bandage her toe? Maybe if I ignored them, they’d go away.

There was another knock—louder this time.

“Jill!” A familiar voice shouted.

“Jack?” He was the last person I’d expected it to be. “What are you—?”

“We’re here on official business.” He had his game face on. It was only when I heard the word ‘we’ that I realised there was another man standing behind him.

“May we come in?”

I stepped aside to allow the two of them in. It occurred to me that this was the first time he’d actually visited my flat.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“We’re working on the murder case.”

“Gina Peel?”

“No. Anton Michaels.” The name rang a distant bell. He was the other person murdered on the same day as Gina.

“How can I help?”

“Earlier today a phone call was made to the mobile phone belonging to Michaels. That call came from your phone.”

“From me?”

He read out my phone number. “That is your number isn’t it?”

It was. That’s when it all clicked into place.

“Why were you calling Michaels?” Maxwell said.

“I didn’t realise I was. I got the number from the woman who used to clean the apartment where Gina Peel was found.”

“Will she verify that?”

Maxwell had an uncanny ability to really get up my nose. “Of course she will. Do you think I’m lying?”

“We’ll need her details to check.” He turned to his colleague. “Bill, will you give us a minute?”

Bill did as he was asked, and left us alone in the flat.

“You didn’t have to come mob-handed,” I said.

“I’d hardly call the two of us mob-handed, and I didn’t realise it was your number until we were already on the way here. So you didn’t know you were calling Michaels’ number?”

“No. How would I? The cleaner had that number in case she needed to contact anyone with a problem.”

“Okay, thanks. I’m sorry for barging in like this.”

“What does all this mean?”

“I don’t know yet, but it’s beginning to look as if these two murders may be connected. Look, I’d better get going.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you.”