Free Witch Is When It All Began by Adele Abbott Page A

behind—there was no way she could have made up that distance. She must have hailed a taxi. She was persistent, I’d give her that much.
    “I have nothing more to say to you.” I tried to side-step her, but she was quicker than I expected in blocking my path.
    “This is important,” she said.
    “What is?”
    “I know you aren’t ready to accept this yet—”
    “That I’m a witch?—I’ll never be ready to accept that nonsense!”
    “There’s one thing you have to know. The main reason your mother gave you up was because she feared for your life.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s difficult to explain.”
    “Let me guess. It’s complicated?”
    “All I ask is that you be on your guard. If you sense danger then trust your instincts and get away as quickly as possible.”
    “Okay, fine.” I’d heard enough. “Now, I really have to go.”
    I began to walk away.
    “Your mother is looking out for you too. Make sure you heed her warnings.”
    “My mother?” What was that supposed to mean? My mother was dead. I turned back to face Aunt Lucy, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 10
     
    When I arrived at the hotel, the receptionist informed me that Mr Lyon had gone out. He’d said he’d be back after lunch. I could have gone back to the office, but I couldn’t face that pantomime, so I decided to pass the time by looking for a linen basket for Mrs V.
    “Can I help you, madam?” An over eager young sales assistant asked. “We have several different sizes of basket.”
    “Yes, so I see.”
    “Does madam have a lot of linen?”
    “It’s not actually for linen.”
    “Oh?”
    “It’s for yarn. Wool. To keep it safe.” Maybe if I smiled, she wouldn’t think I was totally crazy.
    “Yarn?” She looked confused. My smile hadn’t fooled her; she obviously thought I was wacko.
    “My receptionist likes to knit—a lot. Scarves mainly.”
    “I see.” She obviously didn’t, and who could blame her? “And you want to keep the wool safe?”
    “From Winky.”
    “Winky?”
    “My cat. He lives at the office. He’s only got one eye.”
    “Right.” She smiled, and began to edge away. “Give me a shout if you need any help.”
    Judging by the speed at which she left, I doubted that she’d respond to a request for further assistance. She was probably on her way to warn security to keep an eye on the mad woman who wanted a linen basket to keep yarn safe from her one-eyed cat. When you put it like that—I guess it did sound a little crazy.
    The hotel receptionist wasn’t overly thrilled at having to store my linen basket for me. That was until I mentioned Winky. It turned out she was a cat lover, and suddenly nothing was too much trouble.
    Geoffrey Lyon was back in his room. Fourth floor—room four one five.
    “Come in.” He greeted me at the door. Although younger than Mr Lamb, he looked even more tired and drawn. The room was as predictable and depressing as most budget-priced hotels.
    “Drink? I only have whiskey I’m afraid.” He gestured to a half-empty bottle on the coffee table.
    “No thanks. I’m good.” After my morning, I’d have killed for a drink, but I needed to stay focussed. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
    “Grab a seat.” He pointed to one of two threadbare chairs. “You don’t mind if I do, do you?” He picked up the bottle.
    “No, go ahead.”
    After he’d topped up his glass, he took a seat next to me. “This place is a dump, but I had to get away from the house.”
    “Press?”
    “Nah. I can deal with them. It’s just—” He appeared lost in his thoughts. “All the memories. I can’t bear it.”
    I nodded—unsure what to say.
    “Harry Lamb tells me you think Pauline’s murder might be connected to others,” he said at last.
    “It’s only a theory at the moment, but one I believe is worth following up.”
    “It’s more than the police are doing.”
    “I’m sure they’re doing their best.” Why was I sticking up for Jack Maxwell and his