Witch Is When Life Got Complicated (6 page)

“I’ve bought a ticket for you.” She sounded way too pleased with herself.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I haven’t even told you what it is yet.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to go.”

“She pulled a ticket out of the back pocket of her jeans. “Ta dah!”

“A circus?”

“I knew you’d be pleased.”

“I hate circuses.”

“The kids want you to go.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Tell you what. Come to the circus, and I’ll try to find that wool for you. Deal?”

“Go on then. Deal.”

Chapter 9

“What’s up with old misery guts?” Winky said. He was perched on the window sill, basking in the sun.

“Who? Mrs V?”

“Yeah. She didn’t even curse me out this morning. She just put the food in my bowl, and poured out the milk. That’s not like her.”

“She’s got the lagoon blues.” I laughed at my own joke. Winky looked confused.

“It’s a yarn situation. She’s run out of wool.”

“There are a billion balls of the stuff in that basket. Has she forgotten? I reckon she’s losing her mind.”

“Not just any old wool.” Why was I having this conversation with a cat? Or with anyone come to that? “She’s run out of lagoon blue wool.”

“So she can use another shade of blue. What’s the problem? They all look the same.”

“Never mind about the wool. Where’s Blinky?”

“How would I know?” Winky did a tiny, cat shrug—cute. “He spends all of his time sucking up to crazy knitting lady.”

“I didn’t see him when I came in.”

“He’s probably under her desk. Last time I saw him, he told me he had her eating out of his paw. I’m telling you, that cat is bad news.”

I heard the outer door open, followed by the sound of a familiar voice. To what did I owe this pleasure I wondered. Mrs V showed Jack Maxwell into my office.

“We can’t keep on meeting like this,” I gestured to the chair in front of my desk. “Have a seat.”

“This isn’t a social call.” He stared at Winky, then swivelled around in his chair and stared at the door behind him. I knew that the two of us weren’t always on the best of terms, but I did expect the basic courtesy of him not turning his back to me.

“I’m over here,” I said.

He swivelled back around. “He.” He pointed to Winky. “He was out there.”

“No, I’m fairly sure he’s right there—on the window sill.”

“But I saw him in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet in your outer office.”

So that was where Blinky had been hiding.

“That’s Blinky.”

“What is?”

“The cat in the filing cabinet.”

“Who’s this then?”

“This is Winky.”

“You have two cats? Winky and Blinky?”

“Yep.”

“Identical?”

“Not exactly.”

“They both have one eye.”

“They both have different one-eyes. Right and left.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you have two one-eyed cats?”

“I collect them. Like stamps. Or coins.”

He looked dazed, so while I had him on the ropes, I went in for the kill. “Do you know anything about knitting by any chance?”

“Knitting?”

“Yeah, you know, two needles and a ball of wool—clickety click.” I did an impression with my hands.

“No. Why would I know anything about knitting?”

I couldn’t say I was surprised; he had more the look of a crocheter.

“Look,” he said. “I’m here about the Digby murder.”

“What’s the latest?”

“I’m the one asking the questions. I understand you paid a visit to the understudy, Harrison Scott, yesterday.”

It didn’t sound like a question, so I waited for more.

“So, did you?”

Apparently, it was a question.

“If you’ve come here to tell me to keep out of police business, you’re wasting your time and mine. I’ll talk to whoever I want.”

“He’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?”

“Harrison Scott.”

It was my turn to be dazed. “How? When?”

“Yesterday evening. Suicide.”

That simply did not compute. The man I’d spoken to hadn’t been suicidal. No way.

“How?”

“He threw himself off a cliff.”

“Are you sure it was suicide? Someone might have—”

“He left a note. He confessed to Digby’s murder.”

This made zero sense.

“I don’t believe it,” I said.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Have you forgotten what happened with the ‘Animal’ case? You had a confession then too.”

“This is different.”

“If you’re so sure you have your man, why are you here?”

“Just routine. You were probably the last person to see Harrison Scott alive. I need you to tell me everything he said to you.”

I spent the next ten minutes recounting my conversation from the previous day. Maxwell barely commented; he was just tying up loose ends. The case was already closed as far as he was concerned.

Mrs V had Blinky in her arms, and was doing the waltz—or it might have been the foxtrot. Jack Maxwell gave her only a cursory glance—I guess by now he was used to the crazy that was my office.

“Why are you so happy all of a sudden?” I said to Mrs V, after Maxwell had left.

“Kathy came through!” Mrs V smiled.

“She did? The lagoon blue?”

“Yes. She’s found more than enough for me to finish off the scarf. Give her a big hug from me the next time you see her, will you?”

“Sure.” Maybe Kathy should have been the one to take over the family business.

If I’d had any sense, I’d have left well alone. Milly was free, the police had their man—even if he had committed suicide. All was well with the world. But then common-sense had never been my strong suit.

It was a fifty mile drive to the coast, but it was a beautiful sunny day and the roads were quiet. A little music would have made the journey even better, but after my recent experience, I decided not to risk it. Instead, I listened to a talk radio station. They were discussing the world shortage of tuna. Better not tell Winky.

Moston Bay was a secluded beauty spot. Located between two large, popular seaside resorts, it attracted mainly the older crowd. If the price of tickets in the town’s only car park was anything to go by that would have been the affluent, older crowd.

After Maxwell had left my office, I’d searched the news channels online. They’d had only sketchy details about the suicide, but they had shown aerial images of the cliffs from which Harrison Scott had supposedly thrown himself.

“The red brick road is closed,” the man in the small refreshment kiosk called to me.

“Sorry?”

“It’s closed about half a mile down that way because of what happened yesterday. Didn’t you hear?”

“The suicide?”

“Yeah. The police have it taped off.”

“What did you call the pathway?”

“The red brick road. It’s what all the locals call it. The stupid council had it resurfaced with red shale or clay or something, about a month ago. Look.”

There were several sets of red footprints across the car park.

“It’s okay when it’s dry, but every time it rains, we get this. Some of the locals reckon they’re going to sue the council. I might do the same. It ain’t doing my business any good.”

“I’m a private investigator.” I flashed him my card. He was suitably unimpressed. “I’m working on what might be a related incident. Were you here yesterday?”

“Yeah. I actually saw the guy who topped himself.”

“How did he seem?”

“Okay. We get the occasional jumper up here. I can usually pick them out. He didn’t seem to fit the mould.”

“How do you mean?”

“They all have the same haunted look in their eyes, and they hardly ever speak.”

“Did he speak to you?”

“Just small talk. He bought an ice cream—with a flake. It was the only one I sold all day. It wasn’t exactly the weather for it.”

“Was anyone with him?”

“No, he was by himself. It was pretty dead all day because of the weather. A few dog walkers—that was about it.”

“Do you know who controls the CCTV in the car park?”

“No one. Doesn’t work. Hasn’t done for almost three years.”

The coastal path ran parallel to the cliff’s edge. There were no fences or barriers, so anyone with a mind to end it all could have done so quite easily. It was dry, so I walked along the red path until I could see the area that had been taped off by the police. A single police officer was on duty. I doubted I’d learn much from him. Before I turned back, I walked gingerly over to the cliff’s edge. It was a long way down, with rocks and shingle waiting at the bottom. You’d have to be pretty desperate to choose that particular exit route.

What could possibly have happened after I’d left Harrison Scott to make him want to kill himself? I knew I could get up people’s noses, but sheesh, even I wasn’t that bad.

It was too late to go back to the office, so I made my way home. I wanted to put in a couple of hours practising spells, so I would be ready for Grandma’s test. As I walked from my car, I spotted Mr Ivers talking to one of the other neighbours. Judging by her pained expression, he must have been trying to sign her up for his newsletter.

“Kathy? Lizzie? What a nice surprise.”

The two of them were waiting for me in my living room. Kathy and I had exchanged spare keys in case of an emergency.

“Look Auntie Jill! We found them!” Lizzie said. She had beanies stacked high, either side of her on the sofa. “Mummy said you had lost the beanies, but we found them for you.”

“Yeah,” Kathy said. “Look what we found.”

“They were in your wardrobe, Auntie Jill.” Lizzie wiped her nose with her fingers and then picked up my favourite bear. “They were really easy to find.”

“You stay in here and play with the beanies, Lizzie,” Kathy said. “Auntie Jill and Mummy are going to have a little chat in the kitchen.”

Before I could object or run away, Kathy frogmarched me out of the room.

“How could you lie like that?” She whisper-screamed at me.

What was I meant to say? That I was a terrible person? A terrible aunt?

“She’s getting snot all over my bear.”

“That’s what you’re worried about? A little snot?” Kathy threw her hands in the air. “
You
are a little snot, Jill. No, strike that! You’re a gigantic, green, bogey. How could you lie like that? Who am I kidding? Of course you could. You lie to me all of the time—you always have. But to your niece? How could you?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘sorry, please forgive me’?”

“I’m really sorry. Please forgive me.”

“No. You’re not forgiven. Not by a long chalk.”

“What do I have to do to make it right?”

“Let Lizzie play with your beanies whenever she wants to.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one.”

“I can’t.”

“Well, I guess we’re done then. I’ll tell the kids they don’t have an auntie any more.”

She made to leave, but I grabbed her arm. “Wait! Look, I simply couldn’t bear to watch her destroy them—”

“She’s not going to destroy them. She just wants to play with them.”

Same thing in my book. “I know, but I can’t bear to watch it. She can take them home. They’re hers to keep.”

“All of them?”

“All of them, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That you put them somewhere I’ll never see them again. I couldn’t bear to witness the devastation.”

“Lizzie!” Kathy yelled. “Come here, please.”

Lizzie came bounding into the kitchen, holding my favourite bear by its ear. “What is it, Mummy?”

“Auntie Jill has something to tell you.”

Lizzie turned to me. I crouched down so we were face to face.

“How would you like to take all of my beanies home with you?”

Her face lit up. “All of them?”

Maybe I could snag a few of my favourites—I glanced at Kathy. Maybe not.

“All of them,” I said.

“For keeps?”

I nodded.

“When?”

“Right now,” Kathy said. “Auntie Jill is going to help us to take them to the car, aren’t you Auntie Jill?”

“Looks that way.”

“Thanks, Auntie Jill!” Lizzie threw her arms around me and planted a huge kiss on my nose.

“Why did you come over, anyway?” I asked, once the beanies were on the back seat of the car with Lizzie.

“I’ve been trying to ring you all day.”

I checked my phone. It was dead. I’d forgotten to charge it the night before.

“You heard about Harrison Scott I assume?” Kathy said.

I nodded. “It was only yesterday that I spoke to him.”

“I can’t believe he did it.”

“The police seem to believe it. He left a note confessing to the murder.”