Witch is How Things Had Changed (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 25)

A removal van had pulled onto the driveway of what had, until a couple of months earlier, been Megan Love’s house. I’d grown to like Megan, and had been sad to see her leave when she moved in with her boyfriend, Ryan. There had been other comings and goings on the street too. Two adjoining houses across the road had become vacant at pretty much the same time. One had belonged to Blossom, AKA The Rose, who had disappeared after her failed attempt to kill me had resulted in the death of Jack’s mother. The other house had been occupied by the balaclava twins who had turned out to be the famous artists: Chris and Chrissie Chrisling—better known as Chris To The Power Of Three. They had used the house as a base in which to create their next masterpiece—a pile of buckets all stuck together.

Would-be house-buyers seemed to have been put off by the two adjoining vacant properties—they probably suspected there was some kind of structural issue. After standing empty for almost a year, one of the houses had been bought about a month ago by a middle-aged couple who I had yet to meet. According to Jack, they’d told him that they were ‘something in showbusiness’. Someone had finally moved into the adjacent property only last week, but we hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them yet. And now, it seemed we had a new next-door neighbour.

“Have you seen who it is?” I said.

Jack shook his head. “So far, I’ve only seen the removal men. They must have the keys because they’ve started taking stuff inside. Let’s hope our new next-door neighbours aren’t as crazy as those on the other side.”

“Tony and Clare are okay.”

“They’re nice enough, but you do have to worry about a couple who spend most of their time dressed in weird costumes.”

“That’s not what you said the other night in bed when you suggested I should wear—”

“That’s totally different.” He interrupted. “Over the last few weeks alone, I’ve bumped into giant fish, telephones and hammers. You have to admit that’s a bit weird.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being weird. At least they aren’t boring. Mind you, this time last year, my money would have been on them moving out.”

“You mean when they almost split up because of Tony’s fling with a broad bean?”

“It was a runner bean, but yeah. I thought they were done for until they made up at CupidCon.”

“I haven’t seen them yet this week. Maybe they don’t have a con for once.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”



While Jack was getting changed upstairs, I continued to ponder the toast/cornflakes conundrum. I was still undecided when he came back down.

“You don’t seem to be in any hurry this morning.” He grinned. “Don’t you have much work on at the moment?”

“I’m still trying to decide what to have for breakfast. These decisions can’t be rushed.”

“Apparently not.”

“But in answer to your question, business is a little slow at the moment. I am going to CASS later, though.”

“I’d forgotten it was your day to be ‘Teach’. Do the kids bring ‘Miss’ an apple?”

“One of them did bring me a bun last week. He’d baked it himself, and it was pretty awful.”

“I hope you didn’t tell him that.”

“Of course I didn’t. Just how tactless do you think I am? Don’t answer that.”

“I envy you being able to magic yourself to a completely different world.”

“I’ve told you before. Candlefield isn’t that much different to here.”

“CASS sounds really cool, though. A castle in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dragons and all manner of strange creatures—that has to be exciting.”

“CASS is great, but I’m never there long enough to appreciate it fully.”

“I suppose I’d better get going. Have a good day, and don’t forget you have to go for the final dress fitting tonight.”

“I don’t see why I need to. It fit perfectly well the last time I tried it on.”

“If you don’t, Kathy will kill you. And don’t forget that I’m going bowling straight after work.”



Decision made. Cornflakes it was.

I always looked forward to my days at CASS. It had all started over a year ago when the headmistress had asked me to give a talk to the kids. That had been postponed when a pouchfeeder had snatched one of the younger pupils. Months later, when I’d eventually delivered my talk, I’d been incredibly nervous, but it had gone down really well. So well, in fact, that the headmistress had asked if I’d be prepared to hold regular classes on The Human World.

At first, I said no, but Desdemona Nightowl wasn’t one to give up easily. She’d kept on at me until I caved in and agreed to teach a class every couple of weeks. I say ‘teach’, but they weren’t really lessons because there was no fixed curriculum and no examinations. I was simply there to talk to the kids about the human world, and to answer any questions they might have. I took classes of all ages, from the nervous first years through to those about to graduate. Usually, it was fun, although there were a few kids who tried to give me the run around. While it was nice to get away from the rigours of being a private investigator, I had no plans to become a full-time teacher. That would have meant doing real work—no thank you.

***

When I arrived at my office building, a wizard held the door open for me.

“After you,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Do you work here?” He was tall, and good-looking in a boy-band kind of way.

“Yeah. I’m Jill Gooder. Those are my offices at the top of the stairs, on the right. Were you on your way to see me?”

“Actually no. I’m Lucas Morecake. My partner, Wendy, and I have taken over the units just down the corridor from you, including the one that used to be a gym.”

“Right. I saw your sign. Escape? What is that? A travel agent’s?”

“No. Escape rooms.”

“Sorry? What?”

“Haven’t you heard of them? They’re all the rage, particularly in the large cities. Ours will be the first in Washbridge.”

“What exactly is an escape room?”

“It’s a sort of adventure game. You have to follow the clues and solve the riddles to complete the task.”

“And people pay to do that?”

“Quite handsomely, I’m pleased to say. You must come and check us out once we’re open for business.”

“When will that be?”

“Within a couple of weeks, hopefully.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think we’ll have to rely on luck because we have a secret weapon.” He winked at me.

“How do you mean?”

“The problem with most escape rooms is they have only a few different themes—sometimes just one or two. Once a customer has tried all the different themed rooms, there’s no reason for them to return. We won’t have that problem. We can offer our customers an infinite selection of different rooms and themes.”

“How can you do that? Hold on—are you talking about using magic?”

He grinned. “Nice to meet you, Jill. I’d better get going. Wendy and I are due to meet with our accountant in a few minutes.”

This wasn’t good news. It sounded as though Lucas and his partner intended to use magic to power the escape rooms. Unless they were very careful, that might attract some unwanted attention from the human press, and if that happened, I’d be a little too close to their operations for comfort.



There was no sign of Mrs V in the outer office where the tripwire was still straddling the room. I considered doing the limbo under it, but I didn’t want to risk injuring my back, so I stepped over it instead.

When I went through to my office, I found Mrs V in there. She was deep in conversation with a man who was wearing his hair in a ponytail. Neither of them seemed to notice my arrival, so I cleared my throat to catch their attention.

“Jill, I didn’t hear you come in,” Mrs V said. “This is Brian Briggs. I told you about him.”

“The Feng Shui guy.”

“Grandmaster.”

“Of course.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jill.” He stepped forward and offered his hand. He had a grip like a wet lettuce.

“You too. Mrs V seems pleased with the work you’ve done for her.”

“Brian just dropped in to see how I was getting on,” Mrs V said. “I asked him to take a look at your office while he was here.”

“Oh?”

“The news isn’t good.” Brian frowned. “The energy is all wrong.”

“Brian has said he can sort it out for you, Jill.” Mrs V was clearly a fangirl.

“There would of course be a small fee,” Brian said.

“How small?”

“My usual consultation fee is five-hundred pounds.”

“What?” I turned to Mrs V. “Is that how much you paid?”

“No. My room is smaller and there’s less furniture. It was only three-hundred pounds. It’s well worth it, Jill. My knitting speed has doubled since the changes.”

“As luck would have it,” Brian chipped in. “I have a couple of free slots next week.”

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