Witch Is When Things Fell Apart (11 page)

Chapter 11

As Mrs V and I were walking back to the office, she could hardly contain her delight.

“Did you see G’s face?” She laughed.

“She didn’t look happy.”

“Now she knows what it feels like to lose.”

“I thought there’d be a trophy or something for the winner,” I said.

“I don’t care about a trophy. Beating G is better than all the trophies in the world. Maybe now she’ll be a little more humble.”

“Do you really think so?”

“No. Not for more than a week or so anyway. Still, I don’t care. Every time she starts bragging, I’ll remind her of today.”

“We should buy champagne.”

“Not for me, thanks. I want to keep a clear head so I can savour every moment. Mind you, I didn’t think I was going to win. With only thirty minutes to go, she was well ahead. I almost threw in the towel.”

“You staged a great comeback.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Mrs V was bursting with pride. “Mind you, it helped that G kept dozing off in that last half hour. She must have pushed herself too hard.”

“Definitely. Poor pacing if you ask me.”

“It was still very close though.”

“It must have been. That’s why your sister asked for a re-measure.”

“Still the same outcome.” Mrs V smiled. “I took it by two inches. I just wished your grandmother had been there to see it.”

“Yeah, it’s a pity she got called away to do that TV interview. Still, I’m sure she’ll be in touch to offer her congratulations. Where is your sister by the way?”

“She decided to go home early. Pity.”

We both laughed.

Back at my flat, Mr Ivers looked in contemplative mood—perhaps it was love.

“Evening, Mr Ivers.”

“Oh, hello there.”

“How’s things?”

“Oh, you know. Same as usual. I have a double-bill of movies lined up for tomorrow.”

“Will you be taking anyone with you?”

“No, I hadn’t planned to, but if you’re—”

“No, no. I thought maybe you and Betty—”

“The woman is a bore.”

“Really?” Pot, kettle.

“All she talks about is sea shells. She spent two hours talking me through her collection. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” So much for my career as a matchmaker.

“You’re welcome to come to the movies with me, Jill.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got things to do—lots of things—important things. Got to rush, bye.”

Two days later, Jackie Langford came to my office at ten o’clock, as arranged. I’d promised her an update on the ‘Lift of Death’ murder, but had precious little to tell her.

“I’ve viewed the CCTV. As reported in the press, there are no actual images of the murder itself. The only explanation I’ve been able to come up with so far, which makes any sense, is that Alan had already been stabbed when he stepped into the lift.”

“Wouldn’t the other people in the lift have noticed?”

“I would have expected them to, but apparently they didn’t realise anything was wrong until he collapsed. I’ve spoken to all of the residents as well as some of the staff. To be perfectly honest with you, I’m no further along. All of the residents appear to keep themselves to themselves. There may be some kind of relationship between two of the single residents, but there’s nothing to suggest that had any connection to the murder. There’s also a question mark over how some of the residents can afford to live in a place like Tregar Court. I’m going to look a little more closely at that to see if it turns up anything of interest.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jackie said.

“Not really. Unless you remember anything else which Alan said or did which might help. Did he ever mention any of his neighbours? Or anything about Tregar Court, come to that?”

“He never talked about his neighbours, but he was always complaining about the building.”

“Anything in particular?”

“All sorts of things. Nosey concierge, dirty common areas, that sort of thing. Nothing earth shattering, but when you’re paying that kind of money, you expect the best. I must have told him a dozen times to find somewhere else. Heaven knows, he could have afforded to move.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“I don’t know. Even though he hated the place at times, it seemed like he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Men! I’ll never understand them.”

We talked for another thirty minutes, but neither of us came up with anything new. Before she left, she made a fuss of Winky.

“He’s such a little darling.”

“You can have him if you like.”

She laughed.

“Why can’t you be more like her?” Winky said, after she’d left.

“She’d soon change her tune if she had to live with you.”

He looked affronted. “You’re the one who’s difficult to live with. You should be grateful that I’m so easy-going.”

Candlefield didn’t do the Internet, so if I was going to find any information on The Dark One, I’d need to go old-school. When had I last been in a library? At school, probably. My teachers would have been ashamed of me.

Candlefield library looked and felt just like my school library. The only difference was that the ‘no talking’ rule was much more strictly enforced in Candlefield.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Shhh!” The witch, dressed in an overdose of floral print, put a finger to her lips. “How can I help?” she whispered.

“Where can I find archived copies of the newspapers?” I whispered back.

She beckoned me to follow her down a flight of stairs. The basement had no carpets, but no shortage of dust. I sneezed.

“Shhh!”

“Where are the readers?”

She looked puzzled.

“Microfiche readers?”

She shook her head. “We don’t have those. All the original copies are stored down here.”

“All of them?”

“This basement stretches for several miles under the town. There’s a copy of every newspaper going back over a century.”

“Are they in any kind of order?”

“Of course. No one would be able to find anything otherwise. They’re stored by year with the most recent nearest to the stairs. Then they’re divided into the different publications.”

“How many different newspapers are there?”

“Each of the different sups has its own paper. For example, The Wonder is published by and for Wizards and Witches. Then there’s The Candle which is a general publication. As you might imagine, it has the largest circulation. Is there anything else you need?”

Apart from a thousand pairs of eyes? “No, thank you.”

“Please make sure you return everything to where you found it.”

“I will.”

I decided to discard those publications aimed at specific sup groups—the real news seemed to be concentrated in The Candle. I figured if I started with newspapers from ten years ago, and worked my way towards the present day, that I could make a note of all the incidents involving The Dark One.

Three hours later, I emerged from the basement—my nostrils coated in dust, and my hands in newsprint.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Floral print whispered.

I shook my head and tried not to sneeze. “I couldn’t find a single article on The Dark One.”

“You should have said that’s what you were looking for. I could have saved you a lot of time.”

“Why aren’t there any stories about him?”

She shrugged. “You should ask the newspapers that question.”

I intended to, but first I had an appointment with a cup of coffee and a muffin at Cuppy C.

“Blueberry!” I could barely control my joy. “You have blueberry.”

“It was the least we could do.” Pearl handed me the tray. “After what you did for us.” She touched a finger to her ear. “Grab the window seat; I’ll come and join you in a minute.”

Amber beat her to it.

“Nice?” Amber said.

I nodded—my mouth was too full to speak.

“Thanks for what you did with Grandma.”

I shrugged.

Pearl joined us. “How did you get Grandma to reverse the spell?”

“I relied on reason and her sense of fair play.”

They both laughed. “No, seriously. How did you manage it?”

“I told her that I wouldn’t take part in her stupid Levels Competition.”

Their mouths fell open.

“What?” I shrugged.

“Nothing,” Pearl said. “I just can’t believe you’re still in one piece.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t turn you into a frog—or a donkey,” Amber said. “She must want to win really badly.”

“That’s what worries me. What chance do I have of winning? I’ve only just moved up from level one. Surely even Grandma will have to make allowances?”

They both shook their heads.

“Thanks. That makes me feel much better.”

“You’ll win.” Amber put her hand on mine. “You’re the best level two witch I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, you’ll win.” Pearl added her hand.

I wished I shared their confidence. It’s not like there wouldn’t be enough pressure going into the competition anyway, but now I had the threat of being transformed into a donkey, hanging over me.

“Did you enjoy that?” Amber asked, after I’d scooped up the last few crumbs.

“It was delicious.”

“Good. Now we have another favour to ask you.”

“You two have used up all your favours.”

“Don’t forget we got blueberry muffins for you.”

“Does this favour involve Grandma?”

“No. I promise. It’s just that it’s our birthday next week.”

“Are you having a joint party?”

“That’s just it. We thought—” Amber looked at her sister.

“Yeah, we were thinking—” Pearl said.

I had a horrible feeling I knew where this was heading.

“We’d really like to go to Washbridge for our birthday.”

“Shopping?”

“No, we thought we could go out for the evening.”

“For a meal?”

“No, silly. Going out for meals is for old people. We want to go to a club. To dance.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to come up with somewhere for you to go.”

“You have to come too,” Pearl said.

“Me? No, I’m old people.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not old. Kathy can come too.”

Yay! Can’t wait.

“So, can we?” Amber had the pathetic puppy dog face off to a tee.

“Please!” So did Pearl.

“Okay. I’ll see what I can arrange.” What else could I have done?

“Thanks, Jill. You’re the best!”

I timed my visit to Kathy’s so the kids would be at school.

“Hello, stranger,” Kathy had a cheese cracker in her mouth. “Come in. Coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’m not stopping.”

“I saw your grandma’s shop on Wool TV the other day.”

“Since when did you watch Wool TV?”

“I heard about the competition on the radio, so thought I’d check it out. Exciting finish wasn’t it?”

“Thrilling.”

“I thought you’d be pleased that Mrs V won.”

“I am. She deserved to get one over on her sister.”

“What brings you here? Come to see the new beanie creations?”

“You’re sick. It’s a wonder Child Protection haven’t taken the kids away.”

“It’s creative. That kangadillo is a work of genius.”

“Of a sick mind more like. Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. It’s the twins’ birthday next week. They want to come to Washbridge and go to a club.”

“Good for them.”

“They want us to go with them.”

“Are you sure you can manage a late night? Don’t you have to be tucked up in bed by ten?”

“You make me sound old,” I said.

“You act old.”

“Rubbish! So, are you up for it?”

“Just try stopping me. It’s ages since I got down and funky.”

“I don’t think anyone gets down and funky any more—if they ever did. Look, you don’t have to go. Are you sure you wouldn’t like more time to think about it?”

“I’m in. I’ll have to buy a new dress though.”

“Like you need an excuse.”

“Anyway, I’ve got news too,” Kathy said.

“Does it involve the wilful destruction of beanies?”

“When I was listening to the radio, there was a phone-in competition. You’ll never guess who won.”

“The kangadillo?”

“No. Me! Guess
what
I won.”