Witch Is When I Said Goodbye (A Witch P.I. Mystery Book 10) by Adele Abbott Page B

seen a brush since Woodstock.
    “What do you want?” Her breath smelled of tuna. “I saw you talking to the gnome lady. Has she been complaining about me again?”
    “No. I—”
    “She’s crazy that one. Talks to them, you know—calls them her little ones. I keep my doors locked—you never know, do you?”
    “I’m actually from the cat sanctuary.”
    Her scowl changed to a smile. “Oh, right. How can I help you?”
    “I’m collecting old clothes and bric a brac. Anything really that we can sell at the jumble sale. All proceeds go to the cat sanctuary. I wondered if there was anything you could let us have?”
    “I’m sure there is, dear. I’m always happy to help the local cat charities. Do come in. I’ll see what I can sort out for you.”
    There were cats everywhere, and I had to tread carefully to avoid stepping on any of them. The place smelled strongly of cat, but to be fair they all seemed to be well cared for.
    “Why don’t you go through to the lounge, dear. I’ll go upstairs, and sort out some stuff for you.”
    “Okay. Thanks very much.”
    The last time I’d been in that room, I’d interviewed Hilary Vicars and her ugly boyfriend, Battery. But now, it was full of cats, and they were all eyeing me suspiciously. A few of them rubbed around my legs; others had their backs arched, and were hissing.
    “Come on, Battery,” I said, out loud. “I know you’re here. Come out and face me.”
    Nothing.
    “Come on. Show that ugly face of yours if you dare.”
    Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped, and all of the cats began to hiss.
    “Come on, Battery. You’re not afraid of a woman, are you?”
    And there he was; larger than death, and even uglier than I remembered.
    “I’m going to finish you!” he yelled.
    “You always did talk a good game.”
    “It’s your fault I’m dead. Why didn’t you just keep your nose out. No one cared about Hills’ mother.”
    “The colonel did. And, I’m pretty sure Hilary did too.”
    He moved closer, and reached for my neck. Was it possible for a ghost to strangle me? If Mad didn’t hurry up, I’d soon find out. Battery’s hands were almost on my neck when, right on cue, Mad burst through the door. She lassoed him first time, and he disappeared in a puff of smoke.
    I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Mad. I owe you one.”
    “No problem. You won’t have to worry about him again, Jill. All his haunting privileges will be revoked. I’d better get back to Ghost Town to book him in. See you around.”
    “Bye, Mads, and thanks again.”
    The cats were still hissing and spitting when the old lady came back downstairs, carrying a pile of clothes.
    “What’s the matter with this lot?” She glanced around. “They seem to have taken against you.”
    “Cats never did like me.”
    “Strange that you would choose to work at the cat sanctuary, then.”
    She tried to pass me the clothes.
    “I’ve just had a phone call while you were upstairs. It seems there’s a bit of a feline emergency. There’s a cat stuck down a drain—I need to go and rescue him. Can I call around tomorrow to pick these up?”
    “Yes, of course. We can’t leave the poor fellow down a drain, can we?”
     
    ***
     
    The outer office was crowded. It was Mrs V’s weekly knitting class, which she held at lunchtime for the staff of Armitage, Armitage, Armitage and Poole. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but there seemed to be more and more people attending every week. She really should have charged for the lessons. She would probably have made more money from knitting lessons than I could ever afford to pay her.
    There were so many chairs squeezed into such a small space that it was a struggle to make my way through to my office.
    “Hello, Jill,” a few of the knitters greeted me. I’d come to know some of the regulars.
    “Hi, everyone. How’s it going?”
    A few of them held up their latest knitting project. Mrs V was some kind of hero in their eyes, and