Witch Is When It All Began (A Witch P.I. Mystery, #1)

by Adele Abbott

“I’ll move the sack into the corridor,” I offered. “Someone might steal my yarn if you put it out there,” she protested. Her concern was no doubt fuelled by the high number of yarn thefts in the area.

“What happened to its eye?” the young man asked. “I don’t know. It was already like that when I got him from the cat re-homing centre. I felt sorry for him because he looked so sad.” It turned out that psycho looked an awful lot like sad.

Good looking, I guess, but not really my type. ‘My type’? Who was I kidding? If my track record was anything to go by, ‘my type’ was a lying, cheating, unreliable narcissist.

In my line of business, I frequently came into contact with the local Washbridge police. We had a kind of love/hate relationship. I hated them, and they loved to hate me. My dad had enjoyed a much better working relationship with them. I put it down to the fact that I’m a woman, and they were all chauvinist scum-bags. According to Kathy, it was more likely to be because I was opinionated and difficult to get along with. According to her, I didn’t have an ounce of tact. That simply wasn’t true. It wasn’t my fault that they were all incompetent asshats.

“I’m very sorry, but I can’t do that.” I wasn’t even the slightest bit sorry. “It would be better for you if you did.” “Is that some kind of threat? What will you do if I don’t leave it alone? Set your scarf on me?” Maxwell’s face reddened. I wasn’t sure if he was angry at what I’d said or if the scarf was slowly choking him to death—hopefully the latter.

“Whatever. I’m only trying to help.” Kathy sighed. “I can handle the police. Now can we please forget about Jack Maxwell?” “I still think you should date him.” Kathy always had to have the last word. “Not happening.” So did I.