Witch Is When It All Began (12 page)

Chapter 18

“So you're Jill,” Grandma said. “Well it's about time we got to meet you, young lady.”

There's no kind way to say this, so I'll just put it out there. Grandma looked every bit like the wicked witches I'd seen in fairy tales. All she needed was the pointed hat, and she could have graced any Halloween party.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said while trying not to stare at the large wart on the end of her nose.

“You have a lot of catching up to do,” she said. “You've wasted way too long living among those humans.”

“Mother!” Aunt Lucy gave Grandma a withering look. “That's enough. It's not Jill's fault that she didn't know she was a witch. You know that.”

“A witch always knows she's a witch,” Grandma insisted. “Have you started to practise your spells?”

“I have, but I still have a lot to learn.”

“If you need any help, you can always call on me.”

“Thanks.” Never going to happen. I'd never liked scary movies. The prospect of being alone with Grandma was way more frightening.

“Go and sit down, everyone.” Aunt Lucy ushered us through to the dining room. “Dinner is almost ready.”

Grandma sat at the head of the table. The twins sat together on one side, and I sat opposite them. Aunt Lucy's place was set at the other end of the table.

“What's it like being a detective?” Amber asked.

“Have you shot anyone?” Pearl joined in.

“It's not as exciting as you might think. And no, I haven't shot anyone.”

“What was your most exciting case?”

“Girls!” Grandma gave them a disapproving look. “That's enough 'human' talk at the dining table. Jill is a witch now, so she'll be giving up all of that silly detective stuff.”

“Sorry?” I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly.

“I said that you'll be giving up all that detective nonsense when you move to Candlefield.”

This was news to me. “Just a minute—”

“Dinner's ready,” Aunt Lucy interrupted. When she caught my eye, she subtly shook her head, which I took to mean that I shouldn't engage with Grandma. I didn't want to spoil my first ever meal with my new family, so I let it go, but there was no way I'd be giving up my job or moving to Candlefield.

Aunt Lucy had made a pie. It was probably the largest pie I'd ever seen, and certainly the most delicious. It came with all the trimmings. My plate was overflowing, and by the time the meal was over, I was stuffed.

“Thank you. That was delicious,” I said. “What was it?”

The twins laughed. “You'll never find out. It's Mum's secret recipe. Even we don't know.”

I thought maybe they were joking until Aunt Lucy said, “If I told you, I'd have to kill you.”

“Well, whatever it was, it was delicious. Thank you for inviting me.”

“The first of many meals together, I hope.” Aunt Lucy treated me to one of her huge smiles.

Despite their objections, I insisted that I help the twins with the washing up. Grandma poked her head around the kitchen door to say goodnight. I wasn't sorry to see her go. I'd rather go head-to-head with a serial killer than with Grandma.

The twins must have seen my expression because Amber said, “Don't worry. She scares us too.”

“She has a heart of gold though,” Pearl said.

“Really?”

“No.”

“Does she live close by?”

“Couldn't be any closer. Right next door.”

“What about you two? Do you still live with Aunt Lucy?”

The twins looked horrified. “With Mum? No chance. We moved out as soon as we were old enough. We live above the shop.”

“Aunt Lucy mentioned that you have a cake shop.”

“Cuppy C.”

“Sorry?”

“That's the name of our shop.” Amber beamed with obvious pride. “'Cuppy C' as in Cuppy Cake. It’s a tea room too.”

“Nice name.”

“You have to come and try our cakes.”

“Not tonight. I'm ready to burst.”

“Tomorrow then. We open at ten.”

“I'll be there.”

The atmosphere was much more relaxed after Grandma had left. Aunt Lucy, the twins and I moved into the living room. The twins were keen to pick my brain about life among the humans.

“Have you ever been out of Candlefield?” I asked.

“No, but we want to,” Amber said.

“Maybe we could come and visit you?” Pearl looked at me with hopeful eyes.

“Girls! What did I tell you?” Aunt Lucy gave the twins a look.

“But Mum. Now we have a cousin in the human world—”

“Amber!” Aunt Lucy scolded. “Jill has enough on her plate without having to put up with you two.”

“You wouldn’t mind, Jill, would you?” Amber pressed.

“I suppose it would be okay,” I said.

I saw Aunt Lucy roll her eyes. Had I said the wrong thing?

“Thank you!” Amber hurried across the room, followed by Pearl. The two of them hugged me. “Thank you so much.”

“When?” Pearl said. “When can we come?”

“I—err—I don't know. I'll—”

“Pearl, stop pressurising her,” Aunt Lucy intervened much to my relief.

What had I let myself in for?

At eleven o'clock the twins said their goodnights. I promised to call in their shop the next morning.

“Thank you for today,” I said, once Aunt Lucy and I were alone.

“It was my pleasure. Now, let me show you to your room.”

The bedroom had obviously once been the twins' room. I got the distinct impression that nothing had been changed since the day they'd moved out. One wall was covered with pictures of pop stars while on the opposite wall were pictures of movie stars. One of the twins was obviously a movie buff—maybe I should introduce her to Mr Ivers. Nah, even I couldn’t be that cruel.

I woke up early the next morning. On my way back from the shower, I heard excited voices coming from downstairs. It was Aunt Lucy and the twins. I hadn't expected to see them until I visited their shop later. Once I was dressed, I made my way downstairs to find the three of them at the kitchen table.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning.” Came back the chorus.

“Sleep well?” Aunt Lucy walked over to the fridge.

“Like a log.”

“Would you like breakfast?”

“Just cereal please.”

“Tea?”

“Do you have coffee?”

“Of course.”

I took a seat at the table. “I wasn't expecting to see you two until later.”

The twins looked at one another and giggled.

“What?”

They giggled some more. It was a little unnerving.

“There you go.” Aunt Lucy put a bowl of cereal on the table in front of me.

While I was eating, the twins kept exchanging whispers, and giggling. Something was obviously afoot, but they remained tight-lipped.

When I'd finished, Aunt Lucy took my hand. “Come through to the living room. We have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” I'd never liked surprises. Kathy once threw a surprise birthday party for me, and I'd hated every moment of it.

“Sit there.” Aunt Lucy ushered me into the armchair. “I'll just be a minute.”

The twins were giggling again.

“What is it?” I asked, but they giggled all the more. I wasn't going to get any sense out of them.

I heard what sounded like a small stampede. What on earth was going on? The next thing I knew, something big and furry came flying through the door, across the room, and launched itself at me. It knocked me back in the chair, and before I could speak, began to lick my face.

“Get down, Barry,” Aunt Lucy shouted. “Get down.”

After she'd managed to pull the dog off me, I sat back up in the chair.

“This is Barry.” Aunt Lucy still had a firm grip on his collar.

“I'm Barry,” Barry said. I still couldn't get used to the idea of talking animals.

“Nice to meet you, Barry.” I began to stroke the dog.

“I'm Barry,” he repeated, his tail wagging frantically.

“I'm going to let you go,” Aunt Lucy said. “But no jumping on Jill. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I wasn't convinced, so braced myself for another assault, but Barry was true to his word, and instead rested his head on my knee.

“Do you like him?” Amber asked.

“He's lovely. What is he?”

“I'm right here,” Barry said.

“Sorry. I keep forgetting that you can talk. So, what are you?”

“I'm a dog.”

“Right. Yeah, of course. Stupid question.”

“He's a Labradoodle,” Pearl said.

“He's beautiful. Who does he belong to?”

“He's yours.” Aunt Lucy patted the dog's back.

“Mine? I can't—”

“I'm yours.” Barry licked my hand.

I looked at Amber, then Pearl, and finally at Aunt Lucy. They were all smiles. What was I supposed to do? An image flashed across my mind of Winky launching an attack on poor, sweet Barry. “I'm not allowed to have animals in my flat.”

“That's okay, dear,” Aunt Lucy said. “Barry will live in Candlefield. Amber, Pearl and I will look after him while you're away. Why don't the three of you take him for a walk?”

“Take me for a walk.” Barry jumped up so his front paws were on my knees. “Please!”

Amber linked her arm through my left arm while Pearl took my right arm. I held on to the lead for dear life as we walked to the park, which was only a short distance from Aunt Lucy's house. Once we were there, Barry began to pull on the lead.

“Let me go! I want to run!”

I wasn't sure. What if he ran away?

“He'll be okay,” Amber said.

I took a deep breath, and unclipped the lead. Barry shot off across the huge grassed area.

“Do you like him?” Pearl asked.

“He's lovely. I've never had a dog before. I'm not sure how often I'll get to see him though.”

“We'll take good care of him while you're away. How often do you think you'll be able to visit Candlefield?”

Washbridge was my home, and probably always would be, but I was already beginning to feel a connection to my new family. And now I had a dog to consider.

“I'm not sure. I wouldn't want to impose on Aunt Lucy too often.”

“You could always stay with Grandma,” Amber said.

They both laughed when they saw the horrified look on my face.

“Kidding. We wouldn't do that to you. There's a spare room at our place that you can use when you come over. We'll show it to you later. As payment, maybe you can help out in Cuppy C sometimes.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Me? Work in the tea room? That had disaster written all over it.

“Barry! Come here!” We'd been in the park for just over half an hour, and Barry had barely stopped running for more than a couple of minutes during that time. I was exhausted just watching him. “Barry!” I shouted again in vain.

It was fifteen minutes later when I finally managed to grab a hold of him.

Chapter 19

Aunt Lucy said she'd look after Barry while the twins gave me a tour of their shop. Cuppy C was on the east side of Candlefield. The huge windows made the ideal showcase for the beautiful cakes inside. The sign above the door displayed a picture of a strawberry cupcake.

“Do you bake the cakes yourself?”

“Heavens no.” Pearl laughed.

For some reason I'd assumed the twins were bakers.

“We can't bake to save our lives,” Pearl said. “We use a number of different bakers. Mostly small concerns. Our main delivery should be here in about ten minutes.”

“Do either of you have a boyfriend?” I asked, while trying to balance two boxes of cakes.

They both giggled. They giggled a lot.

“I'm seeing the most handsome man in Candlefield,” Pearl said.

“No you're not,” Amber objected. “You can't possibly think Alan is more handsome than William.”

“I don't think. I know.”

“You're crazy. And jealous!”

This outburst took me by surprise. Until then, I'd only ever seen a close bond between the twins. Now, suddenly, lines had been drawn.

“Jealous of William?” Pearl snapped. “Now I know you're insane.”

“Girls, girls.” I stepped between them before they began to scratch each other's eyes out. “Are Alan and William—?” I hesitated. “I mean to say, what are—what kind of—?”

“Alan is a vampire,” Pearl said.

“And William is a werewolf.” Amber screwed up her nose at her twin sister. There was obviously more rivalry between the two of them than I'd realised.

“Do different types of sups often date one another?”

“Yeah. It's quite common. What about you, Jill?” Pearl asked.

“What about me?”

“Are you in a relationship?”

“No. I'm taking a break.” See how I made it sound like it was by choice. “I have a bad habit of picking losers.”

“Is there anyone you have your eye on?” Amber asked.

I hesitated a few seconds too long. “No.”

“You can tell us.”

“There really isn't. It's just—nothing.”

“Come on, Jill. Spill the beans.”

“Okay. A while back, a new detective moved to the Washbridge area. I thought he was kind of—”

“Hot?” Pearl giggled.

“Yeah. But that was before I discovered that he was a complete asshat.”

“Did you go out with him?”

“No. We never dated, but my work brings me into contact with him—unfortunately. He isn't my number one fan, and he takes every opportunity to tell me so.”

“But you still have the hots for him?”

“No, it's just—” This had been bugging me ever since that day at the police station.

“What? We won't tell. Promise.”

“I used the 'mind read' spell on him. I thought that if I could make him think about the case I was working on, he might reveal information that would help me. But when I saw what was on his mind—”

“He was thinking about you, wasn't he?”

I nodded.

“What was it? Something depraved and disgusting?”

“No! No! Nothing like that. He was thinking what it would be like to kiss me.”

“That's good isn't it?”

“No. It's not good. It's terrible. I hate the man.” What? It's true. I do hate him and I hadn't once wondered what it might be like to kiss him. Not once. Ever.

By a quarter to ten, all of the cakes were on display.

“Thanks for your help,” Amber said. “As payment, you can have your choice of cake.”

It wasn't an easy decision, but in the end I decided upon the double-chocolate.

“Would you like to see your room?” Amber asked.

I wasn't ready to think of it as 'my room' yet, but I didn’t think it would do any harm to take a look. “Don't you need to open up the shop?”

“Pearl can look after things down here, can't you Pearl?”

“Yes, Amber dear.” She sneered, “I usually do anyway.”

“You do not!”

I was starting to rethink my initial impression that the twins lived together in blissful harmony.

The space above the shop covered two floors. On one floor was the kitchen and living room. On the top floor were three bedrooms, and a bathroom.

“This is my room.” Amber pushed open the door. I now knew which of them was the movie buff. “And this pig-sty is Pearl's.” She pushed open the next door and held her nose. I peered inside expecting to see a scene of devastation, but apart from a few clothes in one corner, it was perfectly tidy. If Amber thought Pearl was untidy, she should meet Kathy.

“And this will be your room.” Amber stepped aside, so I could see. “We can change the colour if you don't like it.”

“It's lovely.” The lemon coloured room appeared to have been recently decorated, and had a new carpet smell.

“You
will
come to stay won't you?” Amber said.

“Of course. As often as I can, but I do have a business to run and a family back in Washbridge.”

“Mum said you have a sister.”

“Kathy. She has two fantastic kids.”

“Will we get to meet them when we come over?”

“Sure.”

“Thank goodness you're here,” Mrs V greeted me the next morning. “That cat has been driving me insane.”

Nothing new there then. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Not really.” She shrugged.

“No phone calls? No new enquiries?”

“No.”

I sighed. If business didn't pick up soon I'd be in big trouble. Maybe I should give it all up and move to Candlefield.

“Thank goodness you're here,” Winky said. “That woman has been driving me insane.” He rubbed up against my leg and I saw his nose twitch. “What's that?”

“What?”

“That smell.”

“What smell?”

“Dog.” Winky took a step back, and gave me the evil eye. “You smell of dog.”

“That's Barry.”

“Barry?”

“He's a Labradoodle.”

“You have a dog? I thought you said you couldn't have pets at your flat. You've been lying to me.”

Winky could be scary when he was mad, and right now he was livid.

“He's not my dog. Not really. He—err—he belongs to a friend. I was just visiting.”

Winky looked unconvinced. I needed to change the subject. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Come on then. Let’s give you some food.”

All was forgiven.

Or so I thought.

Mrs V had placed a copy of the Bugle on my desk. The headline read 'Face of the Animal'. The article covered the arrest of Martin Kilburn who had now been charged with all three murders. According to the article, the arrest had followed a tip off from a tattoo artist. How accurate this information was, I'd no way of knowing—this was the Bugle after all. Apparently Kilburn had asked for a tattoo of a fox. The owner of the tattoo parlour had noticed that he already had a tattoo of a lamb and a lion, so had contacted the police.

The article included two photographs of Kilburn. He was bare-chested, and appeared to be showing off his tattoos to the camera. In the first photo he was facing the camera; in the second he had his back to it. His torso was covered in numerous tattoos, but there was no sign of a lamb, lion or fox. But then, the caption did state that the photos had been taken the previous year. The tattoos on his arms were only partially visible, but by studying the two photographs, I was able to make out one in particular. It was on his left arm, and was of two crossed daggers. That matched the description given by the eye-witness at Pauline Lyon's house. It looked as though Maxwell might have got his man after all.

So what was bugging me? Something didn't feel right. I studied the photos again—checking every individual tattoo. There was no single large tattoo. Instead, there were clusters of small ones.

Wait a minute—these weren’t just random tattoos.

“I'm going to the police station,” I said as I hurried past Mrs V.

“To see Detective Maxwell? Such a nice young man. You should wear that red dress. The one you bought last Christmas.”

“Yeah—I don't think so.”

“Do you want to take a scarf for him?” She pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk.

“I think he's good for scarves, thanks.”

“Jack Maxwell, please,” I said to the young police officer who was manning the front desk.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but it'll only take a minute.”

“What's it in connection with?”

“I have some information relating to the 'Animal' case.”

“And you are?”

“Jill Gooder.”

Her expression changed the moment she heard my name. I assumed that meant I was on some kind of blacklist.

“What kind of information?”

“I'd rather speak to Detective Maxwell.”

She glared at me for a few moments, and then made a call. “Hi, I have a Jill Gooder at the front desk.” She listened for a few seconds. “What shall I tell her then?” Once the call had ended, she gave me a withering look, and said, “Sorry. He can't see you.”

“It's important.”

She shrugged. “I can get someone else to take the information from you if you wish?”

“Forget it.”

There had to be a way to get to Maxwell. I parked in the supermarket car park, which was opposite the police station. At ten minutes before midday, I saw Maxwell's car appear. From that distance, I couldn't be sure if he was alone in the car or not. It took me a few seconds to force my way across the traffic, and I almost lost sight of his vehicle. I tucked in three cars behind him and followed.

After ten minutes, he pulled into the car park of the Whistling Pig pub. I drove around to the rear of the building, and parked as close as I could to the door. Before he'd even got out of his car, I'd cast the 'faster' spell and made my way inside. By the time Maxwell walked through the door, I was already seated at the bar.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

“Getting a drink. What about you?”

I could see the cogs in his mind working overtime. Could my being there really have been a coincidence? For a moment, I thought he might turn around and walk back out.

“Jack!” The barman greeted him. “Your usual?”

Jack looked at the barman, and then at me. I still wasn't sure if he'd stay or not.

“Yes please, Gary.”

“
I
was here first,
actually
,” I chimed in.

The barman looked at Maxwell.

“You’d better serve the
lady
first.” If looks could kill, I'd have been a goner.

“Thank you. I’ll have whatever the detective is having.”

Maxwell sat down on the stool next to mine. “How did you know I'd be here?”

“I didn't.” I lied. “Coincidence I guess.” And a little bit of magic.

“I don't believe in coincidence. Didn't you come into the station earlier this morning?”

“Yes, I did. They said you were busy.”

“I am.”

“So I see.”

“It's my lunch break.”

“There you go.” The barman placed two soda and limes on the bar in front of us.

“I see you're on the hard stuff.” I raised a glass. “Cheers!”

Maxwell scowled. “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want anything? I just popped in here for a bite—”

“Don’t give me that, Gooder. What do you want?”

There was something distinctly sexy about him when he was mad—not that I'd noticed or anything. I was way too busy hating his guts.

“You've got the wrong man.”

“What are you talking about?”

“For the 'Animal' murders. Kilburn didn't do it.”

“Really? And you know this how?”

“The tattoos.”

“The tattoos are precisely why we know he did do it.”

“You mean the lamb, lion and fox?”

“Plus the tattoo on his arm.”

“The daggers? That’s it? That’s all you have?”

“Then there’s the small matter of his confession.” His smirk was back big time.

“His confession isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

The barman placed a ploughman's lunch in front of each of us. Maxwell took a bite of his.

“Says who?” he munched.

“Says me. The man is obviously some kind of nut job.”

“He killed three people. Of course he's a nut job.”

“Martin Kilburn didn't kill anyone. He gets his jollies from stalking serial killers. Check his tattoos. Almost every one is related to a serial killer. Remember the 'Razor'? That's on his left shoulder. The 'Reaper' is on his chest. The 'Dorm Killer' is on his back. Do you want me to go on? If you don't believe me, go check them out. The 'Animal' tattoos were just the latest addition to his gallery.”