Witch is How Life Changed Forever, page 6
part #36 of Witch P.I. Mystery Series
“You’re not on a diet, are you? You certainly don’t need to be.”
“Of course I’m not.”
“It’s just that you don’t seem to be eating very much recently.”
“I’m not really hungry yet. I’ll probably get something else later this morning.”
After I’d poured myself some corn flakes, I joined him at the table.
“By the way, Jill, did you enquire about those ruby fairies?”
“Yes, I did. I meant to mention it last night.”
“Before you fell asleep watching Netflix, you mean?”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just resting my eyes.”
“For two hours?”
“Do you want to know about the ruby fairies or not?”
“Sorry, go on. I’m all ears.”
“It sounds quite promising. Apparently, you get paid so much per fairy per day. If we were to take one, we’d make about nine hundred pounds over the hibernation period.”
“That’s not bad.” Jack nodded his approval.
“It gets even better. We’re allowed to take a maximum of five of them. That means we’d make four and a half grand.”
“Wow! And did they say we could do that?”
“Yes. The fairies should be here on Monday.”
“It wasn’t a problem that we live in the human world, then?”
“No, they didn’t seem to care about that.”
“What about the fact that I’m a human?”
“Err—no, that was okay too.”
“Why do I get the impression there’s something you’re not telling me? You didn’t lie and tell them I was a sup, did you?”
“Of course not. They just kind of assumed we were both sups.”
“And you didn’t correct them?”
“I was going to, but I didn’t get the chance. You’ll just have to make sure that you aren’t around when the fairies are delivered or collected. That way, they’ll be none the wiser and everything will be sweet.”
“And what exactly do we have to do while they’re staying with us?”
“That’s the best part. We don’t have to do anything, other than provide them with a warm place to sleep. I thought we could clear a shelf in the airing cupboard and put them in there.”
“What about food and drink?”
“They don’t need either while they’re hibernating. We just have to let them sleep here until the end of the hibernation period, when they’ll be collected.”
“That sounds almost too good to be true.”
“It’s right, though.”
“And we’ll get four and a half thousand pounds just for doing that?”
“Brilliant, isn’t it? We’ll be able to have a great holiday next year.”
***
When I arrived at the office, the linen basket had been emptied and was lying on its side. Mrs V was just about to spray it with something.
“Morning, Jill. I’ve cleared out what was left of the yarn, and I’m going to spray the basket with this, which is guaranteed to get rid of all bugs. Hopefully, that will do the trick. I’ve also ordered some new yarn, which will be delivered later today. I hope you don’t mind it being brought here.”
“Of course not.”
I was about to go through to my office when Mrs V called me back. “Jill, I had a phone call from a potential new client yesterday after you’d left.”
“Did they say what it was about?”
“The lady’s name is Mrs Harty. She wouldn’t give me any details, other than to say it was related to the theft of something valuable. She’s coming in later this morning.”
“That’s great, thanks.”
In my office, Winky was running around like a crazy cat. I was just about to ask him what he was doing when I realised that he was chasing something. That something was a huge, ugly creepy-crawly with lots of legs. Winky pounced, caught it in his paws, and dropped it into a jam jar, before screwing on the lid.
“What’s that, Winky?”
“What’s what?” He shrugged.
“That thing in the jam jar.”
“Oh, that thing. That’s Ivan.”
“And what exactly is Ivan?”
“A bug. Well, a superbug, to be precise.”
“And how long have you had Ivan?”
“Just a few days.”
“Out of curiosity, what does Ivan like to eat?”
“Oh, you know. This and that.”
“Is it possible that this and that could include yarn?”
“I believe he’s quite partial to yarn, yes.”
“I thought as much. He’s the one that’s been eating Mrs V’s yarn, isn’t he?”
“I suppose it’s possible.” Winky shrugged. “I had to let him out during the night for some exercise, and I can’t be sure what he was doing while I was asleep.”
“You did this deliberately. You knew that he’d eat Mrs V’s yarn.”
“Of course I didn’t. I had no idea that would happen.”
“Where does Ivan come from, anyway?”
“I’m looking after him for a friend, Billy the Bugs. He had to go and see his poor old mum in hospital. He’ll be away for a few days, so he asked some of his friends to look after his collection of bugs. I volunteered to look after Ivan.”
“That thing has destroyed all of Mrs V’s yarn, and it’s going to cost her a small fortune to replace it. If anything happens to the new batch, which is being delivered later today, I’ll stomp on Ivan, and then I’ll stomp on you.”
***
Although the ruby fairy foster scheme would help with our finances, what I really needed was an influx of new clients and cases. That’s why I was determined to impress Mrs Harty.
“Good morning, Mrs Harty,” I said, in my best customer-facing voice. “Do have a seat.”
“Thank you, and please call me Lori.”
Lori? That would make her Lori Harty, which rhymed with Moriarty.
Was someone trying to wind me up again?
Hang on. I reminded myself what had happened with Mr Moriarty when I’d thought he was Martin, trying to prank me. My rude manner had caused Moriarty to walk out in disgust. I couldn’t afford a repetition of that.
“Mrs Maxwell?” Lori had obviously realised that I’d zoned out. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, Lori. Please call me Jill. Can I get you a drink?”
“Not for me, thanks. I’d prefer to get straight down to business if it’s all the same to you.”
“Absolutely. How exactly can I help you today?”
“Something rather valuable has been stolen from me.”
“Was it a stamp collection, by any chance?”
“Stamp collection?” She gave me a puzzled look. “No, I have no interest in stamps. It’s a painting.”
“I see. And it’s valuable, you say?”
“Yes. Not Picasso/van Gogh type valuable, but it did cost me over twenty thousand. I’ve only had it for a few days.”
“Where was it stolen from?”
“My apartment. I’m actually a bit of a collector. I have over twenty paintings in total. This one was my favourite, though.”
“And the most valuable?”
“By some considerable margin, yes.”
“Do you keep them all in your apartment?”
“Yes, they’re all on display. I’m not one of those people who believe in storing art away from view. I like to be able to appreciate them every day.”
“How was the painting stolen? Was there a burglary?”
“That’s the weird thing. I don’t know how it happened.”
“Can you talk me through what you do know?”
“Of course. I’m a member of the Washbridge Fine Art Appreciation Society, or WFAAS for short. It’s a very small society; there are only five of us altogether. We meet once a month at each other’s homes. On this particular day, it was my turn to host the get-together. I’d gone into the kitchen to make drinks when I heard a strange buzzing noise coming from the next room. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when I took the drinks through, everyone was in a state of panic because the room was full of bees.”
“Bumblebees?”
“That’s right. We had no choice but to abandon the meeting. We left the apartment, went downstairs, and I called the pest control man. The others went home while I waited in the garden for him to arrive. I’d assumed there must be a bees’ nest somewhere, but after the pest control man had cleared the bees out of the apartment, he conducted a thorough search, but found no trace of one. When I went back up to my apartment, the painting had gone.”
“Is it possible that the pest control man took it?”
“No. I watched him leave. The only thing he was carrying was a small tool kit, much too small to accommodate the painting.”
“What about the other members of your group? Could any of those have taken it?”
“No, because I walked out of the apartment with them, and I’d have seen it. The three ladies only had handbags with them, and they certainly weren’t large enough to conceal the painting. And Finley didn’t have a bag with him at all.”
“Finley?”
“Yes. He’s the only man in our little group.”
“Was the painting definitely there when you began the meeting?”
“Yes, when I sat at the head of the table, it was on the wall directly in front of me.”
“But it had gone by the time you returned to the apartment after the pest control man had got rid of the bees?”
“That’s correct.”
“Are you sure it was there before you went to make the drinks?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about when you returned with the drinks? Can you be sure if it was still there then?”
“No, as I mentioned before, everyone was freaking out because of the bees. People were running around, trying to swat them away, and then we all left the building.”
“Have you reported the theft to the police?”
“Yes, that was the first thing I did. They sent a young constable over to see me. He took a few notes, but to be honest, I got the impression that they were unlikely to put much by way of resources into it. He did say they’d keep me posted, and that there had been lots of other burglaries in the area. I’m not very hopeful, which is why I’m here today.”
“I’d like to start by paying a visit to your apartment if that’s possible, so I can see the room where the painting was being kept.”
“That’s fine. Come around any time. Oh, and one other thing I forgot to mention: the apartment block has CCTV throughout the building, and on both the front and rear entrances. I told security that I intended to hire a private investigator, and they said that you’d be welcome to look at the footage if you think it would be helpful.”
“That’s great. There’s just one more thing I need from you, Lori. Can you let me have a list of the other members of your art appreciation group?”
“Certainly. I’ll do that before I leave, but as I said, I’m absolutely sure they aren’t responsible for the theft. If any of them had been carrying the painting, I’d have seen it.”
A few minutes after Lori had left, the door to my office flew open and in walked someone wearing what appeared to be a beekeeper’s hat. I had no idea who it was because they had the mesh pulled down in front of their face.
“Can I help you?” I said.
“You most certainly can.”
“Grandma? Why are you wearing a beekeeper’s hat?”
“I’ll show you why.” She lifted up the mesh.
“Oh no! What happened to your wart? It’s huge.”
“Is it really? Thanks for pointing that out because I hadn’t noticed.” She rolled her eyes. “Why else do you think I’m wearing this stupid hat?”
“Didn’t the potion that Rhonda Rules recommended work?”
“The wart is no longer flashing red, yellow and green, so I suppose it worked in that respect, but this is hardly an improvement, is it? I can barely see over the top of this thing.”
Before I could stop myself, I laughed.
“This is not funny!”
“Sorry, I know it isn’t.” I somehow managed to compose myself. “Perhaps it’s just a side effect.”
“Of course it’s a side effect. That doesn’t make it any better.”
“You’re right, but I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”
“I’d have thought that was quite obvious. I want you to find Rhonda, tell her what’s happened, and tell her that if she doesn’t sort this out, I will personally go over there and kick her backside.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you went to see her yourself?”
“No, it would not. I don’t want anyone to see me looking like this. It’s bad enough that I had to come up here to see you. I tried calling you, but I got no response.”
“Sorry. I had the sound turned down on my phone because I had a client with me.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
“You want me to go over there right now?”
“Of course I do. And you’d better look sharp, girl.” With that, she stormed out of the office.
Poor old Grandma. She drove me crazy, but I wouldn’t have wished that wart on anyone.
Chapter 8
I was just about to magic myself over to Candlefield in search of Rhonda Rules when I received a phone call.
“Is that Jill Maxwell?”
“Jill Maxwell speaking.”
“It’s Harvey Baskerville from Harvey’s Booksheller.”
“Hi there. Do you have news for me?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve actually found two copies.”
“That’s great. When can I call in to collect one?”
“Anytime, but I wanted to let you know that one of the copies has been signed by the author himself. Obviously, the price I quoted you of twenty-five pounds still stands for the unsigned edition, but I thought I’d better check in case your friend, Mr Rhymes, would prefer to pay extra to have the signed edition. I don’t mind either way.”
“I’ll need to check with Rhymes. How much would the signed edition be?”
“I’d want sixty pounds for that one.”
“Okay. I’ll call on Rhymes later today, and then pop into the shop. What time do you close today?”
“Not until five o’clock.”
“I’ll see you later, then.”
Before I could go and see Rhymes, I needed to find Rhonda Rules, to try and sort out Grandma’s wart problem.
The Three Merry Turkeys was one establishment that I’d hoped never to return to.
“Hello again, Missy.” The man behind the counter still hadn’t had a shave. “You’re becoming a regular in here.”
Not by choice, that was for sure.
“I need to see Rhonda again. Is she upstairs?”
“Not today. She’s in the kitchen, making herself a snack.”
“Right. Is it okay to go through and have a quick word with her?”
“Feel free. It’s the first door on the right.”
It was with some trepidation that I made my way through to the kitchen. I found it hard to believe that this dump actually offered food.
Even though the kitchen wasn’t as bad as I’d expected, I wouldn’t be ordering any food from there any time soon. Standing by the microwave, Rhonda hadn’t noticed me come in.
“Hello again, Rhonda.”
She looked at me but showed no sign of recognition. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Jill Maxwell. I came to see you yesterday.”
The microwave pinged, and she took out what looked like a bowl of macaroni cheese. Normally, I love mac and cheese, but for some reason, the smell turned my stomach.
“Sorry, I don’t remember that,” she said.
“You were upstairs. I had to wake you up, to ask you for help with my grandmother, Mirabel Millbright.”
“That does ring a bell, but I thought it was a dream. Was it something to do with her nose?”
“That’s right. It was turning from red, to yellow, to green.”
“That sounds like traffic light nose syndrome.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
“I did? Thank goodness. For a moment there, I was worried I might’ve given you the wrong advice.”
“You suggested a potion for her to use.”
“Did it stop the TLN syndrome?”
“Yes, it did.”
“Excellent.”
“Not really. It seems to have caused another problem. The wart has grown much larger; it’s now almost as big as her head.”
“Oh, no.” Rhonda looked horrified. “I don’t imagine Mirabel is best pleased about that.”
“You’re right. She isn’t.”
“What potion did I suggest that she use?”
“Rat hair and thistle.”
“Are you sure that’s what I said?”
“Positive. Why?”
“It’s not rat hair and thistle that she needs. It’s bat hair and thistle. Is it possible you misheard me?”
“I don’t think so. What can we do about it?”
“You need to go back to the apothecary, purchase some bat hair and thistle, and have your grandmother apply it three times a day, but tell her to use twice the normal recommended dose. That should sort out the problem within a matter of three to four days.”
“That long? She’s not going to be very happy about that.”
“I’m sure she won’t, but I’m afraid it’s the best I can do. Nothing else is going to sort it out any quicker.”
“Okay. Thanks, Rhonda. I’d better get over there now.”
In the apothecary, Patricia was on duty again.
“Hi, did the potion you bought yesterday do the trick?”
“Not exactly. There’s seems to have been some kind of mix up. Apparently, what I needed wasn’t rat hair and thistle, it was bat hair and thistle.”
“I must admit that when you asked for rat hair, I did think it was rather unusual, but I didn’t like to argue with Rhonda. She is the expert on these matters, after all.”
“Do you have any bat hair and thistle potion?”
“Let me go and check for you.”
She slid the ladder across the room, then climbed the steps.
“Of course I’m not.”
“It’s just that you don’t seem to be eating very much recently.”
“I’m not really hungry yet. I’ll probably get something else later this morning.”
After I’d poured myself some corn flakes, I joined him at the table.
“By the way, Jill, did you enquire about those ruby fairies?”
“Yes, I did. I meant to mention it last night.”
“Before you fell asleep watching Netflix, you mean?”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just resting my eyes.”
“For two hours?”
“Do you want to know about the ruby fairies or not?”
“Sorry, go on. I’m all ears.”
“It sounds quite promising. Apparently, you get paid so much per fairy per day. If we were to take one, we’d make about nine hundred pounds over the hibernation period.”
“That’s not bad.” Jack nodded his approval.
“It gets even better. We’re allowed to take a maximum of five of them. That means we’d make four and a half grand.”
“Wow! And did they say we could do that?”
“Yes. The fairies should be here on Monday.”
“It wasn’t a problem that we live in the human world, then?”
“No, they didn’t seem to care about that.”
“What about the fact that I’m a human?”
“Err—no, that was okay too.”
“Why do I get the impression there’s something you’re not telling me? You didn’t lie and tell them I was a sup, did you?”
“Of course not. They just kind of assumed we were both sups.”
“And you didn’t correct them?”
“I was going to, but I didn’t get the chance. You’ll just have to make sure that you aren’t around when the fairies are delivered or collected. That way, they’ll be none the wiser and everything will be sweet.”
“And what exactly do we have to do while they’re staying with us?”
“That’s the best part. We don’t have to do anything, other than provide them with a warm place to sleep. I thought we could clear a shelf in the airing cupboard and put them in there.”
“What about food and drink?”
“They don’t need either while they’re hibernating. We just have to let them sleep here until the end of the hibernation period, when they’ll be collected.”
“That sounds almost too good to be true.”
“It’s right, though.”
“And we’ll get four and a half thousand pounds just for doing that?”
“Brilliant, isn’t it? We’ll be able to have a great holiday next year.”
***
When I arrived at the office, the linen basket had been emptied and was lying on its side. Mrs V was just about to spray it with something.
“Morning, Jill. I’ve cleared out what was left of the yarn, and I’m going to spray the basket with this, which is guaranteed to get rid of all bugs. Hopefully, that will do the trick. I’ve also ordered some new yarn, which will be delivered later today. I hope you don’t mind it being brought here.”
“Of course not.”
I was about to go through to my office when Mrs V called me back. “Jill, I had a phone call from a potential new client yesterday after you’d left.”
“Did they say what it was about?”
“The lady’s name is Mrs Harty. She wouldn’t give me any details, other than to say it was related to the theft of something valuable. She’s coming in later this morning.”
“That’s great, thanks.”
In my office, Winky was running around like a crazy cat. I was just about to ask him what he was doing when I realised that he was chasing something. That something was a huge, ugly creepy-crawly with lots of legs. Winky pounced, caught it in his paws, and dropped it into a jam jar, before screwing on the lid.
“What’s that, Winky?”
“What’s what?” He shrugged.
“That thing in the jam jar.”
“Oh, that thing. That’s Ivan.”
“And what exactly is Ivan?”
“A bug. Well, a superbug, to be precise.”
“And how long have you had Ivan?”
“Just a few days.”
“Out of curiosity, what does Ivan like to eat?”
“Oh, you know. This and that.”
“Is it possible that this and that could include yarn?”
“I believe he’s quite partial to yarn, yes.”
“I thought as much. He’s the one that’s been eating Mrs V’s yarn, isn’t he?”
“I suppose it’s possible.” Winky shrugged. “I had to let him out during the night for some exercise, and I can’t be sure what he was doing while I was asleep.”
“You did this deliberately. You knew that he’d eat Mrs V’s yarn.”
“Of course I didn’t. I had no idea that would happen.”
“Where does Ivan come from, anyway?”
“I’m looking after him for a friend, Billy the Bugs. He had to go and see his poor old mum in hospital. He’ll be away for a few days, so he asked some of his friends to look after his collection of bugs. I volunteered to look after Ivan.”
“That thing has destroyed all of Mrs V’s yarn, and it’s going to cost her a small fortune to replace it. If anything happens to the new batch, which is being delivered later today, I’ll stomp on Ivan, and then I’ll stomp on you.”
***
Although the ruby fairy foster scheme would help with our finances, what I really needed was an influx of new clients and cases. That’s why I was determined to impress Mrs Harty.
“Good morning, Mrs Harty,” I said, in my best customer-facing voice. “Do have a seat.”
“Thank you, and please call me Lori.”
Lori? That would make her Lori Harty, which rhymed with Moriarty.
Was someone trying to wind me up again?
Hang on. I reminded myself what had happened with Mr Moriarty when I’d thought he was Martin, trying to prank me. My rude manner had caused Moriarty to walk out in disgust. I couldn’t afford a repetition of that.
“Mrs Maxwell?” Lori had obviously realised that I’d zoned out. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, Lori. Please call me Jill. Can I get you a drink?”
“Not for me, thanks. I’d prefer to get straight down to business if it’s all the same to you.”
“Absolutely. How exactly can I help you today?”
“Something rather valuable has been stolen from me.”
“Was it a stamp collection, by any chance?”
“Stamp collection?” She gave me a puzzled look. “No, I have no interest in stamps. It’s a painting.”
“I see. And it’s valuable, you say?”
“Yes. Not Picasso/van Gogh type valuable, but it did cost me over twenty thousand. I’ve only had it for a few days.”
“Where was it stolen from?”
“My apartment. I’m actually a bit of a collector. I have over twenty paintings in total. This one was my favourite, though.”
“And the most valuable?”
“By some considerable margin, yes.”
“Do you keep them all in your apartment?”
“Yes, they’re all on display. I’m not one of those people who believe in storing art away from view. I like to be able to appreciate them every day.”
“How was the painting stolen? Was there a burglary?”
“That’s the weird thing. I don’t know how it happened.”
“Can you talk me through what you do know?”
“Of course. I’m a member of the Washbridge Fine Art Appreciation Society, or WFAAS for short. It’s a very small society; there are only five of us altogether. We meet once a month at each other’s homes. On this particular day, it was my turn to host the get-together. I’d gone into the kitchen to make drinks when I heard a strange buzzing noise coming from the next room. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when I took the drinks through, everyone was in a state of panic because the room was full of bees.”
“Bumblebees?”
“That’s right. We had no choice but to abandon the meeting. We left the apartment, went downstairs, and I called the pest control man. The others went home while I waited in the garden for him to arrive. I’d assumed there must be a bees’ nest somewhere, but after the pest control man had cleared the bees out of the apartment, he conducted a thorough search, but found no trace of one. When I went back up to my apartment, the painting had gone.”
“Is it possible that the pest control man took it?”
“No. I watched him leave. The only thing he was carrying was a small tool kit, much too small to accommodate the painting.”
“What about the other members of your group? Could any of those have taken it?”
“No, because I walked out of the apartment with them, and I’d have seen it. The three ladies only had handbags with them, and they certainly weren’t large enough to conceal the painting. And Finley didn’t have a bag with him at all.”
“Finley?”
“Yes. He’s the only man in our little group.”
“Was the painting definitely there when you began the meeting?”
“Yes, when I sat at the head of the table, it was on the wall directly in front of me.”
“But it had gone by the time you returned to the apartment after the pest control man had got rid of the bees?”
“That’s correct.”
“Are you sure it was there before you went to make the drinks?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about when you returned with the drinks? Can you be sure if it was still there then?”
“No, as I mentioned before, everyone was freaking out because of the bees. People were running around, trying to swat them away, and then we all left the building.”
“Have you reported the theft to the police?”
“Yes, that was the first thing I did. They sent a young constable over to see me. He took a few notes, but to be honest, I got the impression that they were unlikely to put much by way of resources into it. He did say they’d keep me posted, and that there had been lots of other burglaries in the area. I’m not very hopeful, which is why I’m here today.”
“I’d like to start by paying a visit to your apartment if that’s possible, so I can see the room where the painting was being kept.”
“That’s fine. Come around any time. Oh, and one other thing I forgot to mention: the apartment block has CCTV throughout the building, and on both the front and rear entrances. I told security that I intended to hire a private investigator, and they said that you’d be welcome to look at the footage if you think it would be helpful.”
“That’s great. There’s just one more thing I need from you, Lori. Can you let me have a list of the other members of your art appreciation group?”
“Certainly. I’ll do that before I leave, but as I said, I’m absolutely sure they aren’t responsible for the theft. If any of them had been carrying the painting, I’d have seen it.”
A few minutes after Lori had left, the door to my office flew open and in walked someone wearing what appeared to be a beekeeper’s hat. I had no idea who it was because they had the mesh pulled down in front of their face.
“Can I help you?” I said.
“You most certainly can.”
“Grandma? Why are you wearing a beekeeper’s hat?”
“I’ll show you why.” She lifted up the mesh.
“Oh no! What happened to your wart? It’s huge.”
“Is it really? Thanks for pointing that out because I hadn’t noticed.” She rolled her eyes. “Why else do you think I’m wearing this stupid hat?”
“Didn’t the potion that Rhonda Rules recommended work?”
“The wart is no longer flashing red, yellow and green, so I suppose it worked in that respect, but this is hardly an improvement, is it? I can barely see over the top of this thing.”
Before I could stop myself, I laughed.
“This is not funny!”
“Sorry, I know it isn’t.” I somehow managed to compose myself. “Perhaps it’s just a side effect.”
“Of course it’s a side effect. That doesn’t make it any better.”
“You’re right, but I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”
“I’d have thought that was quite obvious. I want you to find Rhonda, tell her what’s happened, and tell her that if she doesn’t sort this out, I will personally go over there and kick her backside.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you went to see her yourself?”
“No, it would not. I don’t want anyone to see me looking like this. It’s bad enough that I had to come up here to see you. I tried calling you, but I got no response.”
“Sorry. I had the sound turned down on my phone because I had a client with me.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
“You want me to go over there right now?”
“Of course I do. And you’d better look sharp, girl.” With that, she stormed out of the office.
Poor old Grandma. She drove me crazy, but I wouldn’t have wished that wart on anyone.
Chapter 8
I was just about to magic myself over to Candlefield in search of Rhonda Rules when I received a phone call.
“Is that Jill Maxwell?”
“Jill Maxwell speaking.”
“It’s Harvey Baskerville from Harvey’s Booksheller.”
“Hi there. Do you have news for me?”
“Yes, I do. I’ve actually found two copies.”
“That’s great. When can I call in to collect one?”
“Anytime, but I wanted to let you know that one of the copies has been signed by the author himself. Obviously, the price I quoted you of twenty-five pounds still stands for the unsigned edition, but I thought I’d better check in case your friend, Mr Rhymes, would prefer to pay extra to have the signed edition. I don’t mind either way.”
“I’ll need to check with Rhymes. How much would the signed edition be?”
“I’d want sixty pounds for that one.”
“Okay. I’ll call on Rhymes later today, and then pop into the shop. What time do you close today?”
“Not until five o’clock.”
“I’ll see you later, then.”
Before I could go and see Rhymes, I needed to find Rhonda Rules, to try and sort out Grandma’s wart problem.
The Three Merry Turkeys was one establishment that I’d hoped never to return to.
“Hello again, Missy.” The man behind the counter still hadn’t had a shave. “You’re becoming a regular in here.”
Not by choice, that was for sure.
“I need to see Rhonda again. Is she upstairs?”
“Not today. She’s in the kitchen, making herself a snack.”
“Right. Is it okay to go through and have a quick word with her?”
“Feel free. It’s the first door on the right.”
It was with some trepidation that I made my way through to the kitchen. I found it hard to believe that this dump actually offered food.
Even though the kitchen wasn’t as bad as I’d expected, I wouldn’t be ordering any food from there any time soon. Standing by the microwave, Rhonda hadn’t noticed me come in.
“Hello again, Rhonda.”
She looked at me but showed no sign of recognition. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Jill Maxwell. I came to see you yesterday.”
The microwave pinged, and she took out what looked like a bowl of macaroni cheese. Normally, I love mac and cheese, but for some reason, the smell turned my stomach.
“Sorry, I don’t remember that,” she said.
“You were upstairs. I had to wake you up, to ask you for help with my grandmother, Mirabel Millbright.”
“That does ring a bell, but I thought it was a dream. Was it something to do with her nose?”
“That’s right. It was turning from red, to yellow, to green.”
“That sounds like traffic light nose syndrome.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
“I did? Thank goodness. For a moment there, I was worried I might’ve given you the wrong advice.”
“You suggested a potion for her to use.”
“Did it stop the TLN syndrome?”
“Yes, it did.”
“Excellent.”
“Not really. It seems to have caused another problem. The wart has grown much larger; it’s now almost as big as her head.”
“Oh, no.” Rhonda looked horrified. “I don’t imagine Mirabel is best pleased about that.”
“You’re right. She isn’t.”
“What potion did I suggest that she use?”
“Rat hair and thistle.”
“Are you sure that’s what I said?”
“Positive. Why?”
“It’s not rat hair and thistle that she needs. It’s bat hair and thistle. Is it possible you misheard me?”
“I don’t think so. What can we do about it?”
“You need to go back to the apothecary, purchase some bat hair and thistle, and have your grandmother apply it three times a day, but tell her to use twice the normal recommended dose. That should sort out the problem within a matter of three to four days.”
“That long? She’s not going to be very happy about that.”
“I’m sure she won’t, but I’m afraid it’s the best I can do. Nothing else is going to sort it out any quicker.”
“Okay. Thanks, Rhonda. I’d better get over there now.”
In the apothecary, Patricia was on duty again.
“Hi, did the potion you bought yesterday do the trick?”
“Not exactly. There’s seems to have been some kind of mix up. Apparently, what I needed wasn’t rat hair and thistle, it was bat hair and thistle.”
“I must admit that when you asked for rat hair, I did think it was rather unusual, but I didn’t like to argue with Rhonda. She is the expert on these matters, after all.”
“Do you have any bat hair and thistle potion?”
“Let me go and check for you.”
She slid the ladder across the room, then climbed the steps.
