Witch Undercover in Westerham Paranormal Investigation Bureau Book 3

Deciding to have more fun in Westerham, Lily takes up life-drawing classes with her friend Olivia. But trouble isn't far away; the art teacher goes missing after the second class.

Tracking down the art teacher is proving impossible, and the PIB's best lead is murdered before they can find out everything he knows. Yet again, Lily's unique witchy skills are called upon to help. The problem? It's dangerous for her to reveal her talents. She's already the target of a secret organisation intent on kidnapping her, and now those closest to her fear a threat inside the PIB itself.

To help solve the case, Lily makes a dangerous choice: to go undercover with no backup. But has she just made a fatal mistake?

So much for witches having it easier. Someone pass Lily a cappuccino, but this time, make it a double.

I’d done it, but regret nipped at my heels with the enthusiasm of a hyperactive puppy. 

Life-drawing classes had seemed like a good idea at the time. Olivia, my first girlfriend in Westerham, had thought so too, and she’d signed up with me. We stood at our easels in our second lesson, charcoal scraping against paper. The model, as naked as the day he was born but rather hairier, lay on his stomach atop cushions piled in the centre of the rustic barn conversion.

I guess I didn’t regret joining the class so much as where I’d positioned myself in relation to the model—directly behind. Today’s model looked to be in his early sixties, and some things were, um… saggy. It was taking me awhile to adjust to this new reality. Actually, seeing anyone nude was a new reality. I hadn’t dated anyone in months.

Our teacher, Mrs Valentine, waddled over. She was an enthusiastic older lady with a purple bouffant, bright-red lipstick, and a vibrantly coloured Mumu that rippled and flowed behind her when she walked. What she lacked in height, she made up for with her loud voice. “Oh, very nice, Lily. Although, you might want to change this line.” She gently bumped me out of the way as she took control of my feeble attempt at drawing. I bit my lip as she calmly rubbed out the offending curve between the legs and redid it to her satisfaction. “There. That’s better. Lovely.” She smiled and moved to the next student.

Olivia leaned over and whispered, “Oh my. Nice ball sac. Mrs Valentine sure knows what she’s doing.” She tried holding back, but I heard her quiet snort.

I snickered. I had so chosen the wrong angle. Why hadn’t I planned better? I’d have to remember for next time. At least the lessons seemed to cheer Olivia up. Her fiancé had been killed a month ago in a PIB arrest gone wrong. My brother had shot him but only to save me. I’d struggled with survivor’s guilt since then. I felt like I’d contributed to Olivia’s fiancé’s demise, and every time I saw her struggle, everything came back as if it had happened yesterday. Although everyone kept telling me it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t help thinking it.

Maybe saggy balls were good therapy for both of us. Yep, things must be bad.

A phone trilled loudly from another room. The barn conversion was divided into four rooms: the large main area with high ceilings and exposed timber beams where art lessons were held, then Mrs Valentine’s office, the supply storeroom, and the toilet.

Mrs Valentine shuffled quickly to answer the phone in her office. She raised her arm and waved it in front of her as she went. “I’m coming. I’m coming. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” She finally reached her office and shut the door.

I whispered to Olivia, “Do you think she realises whoever’s on the phone can’t hear her until she actually answers it?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea. You’d best get a move on. You’re only half finished.” She turned back to her easel and shaded the curve of the model’s lower back.

“You’re not half bad at this drawing caper.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I’m really enjoying it, much more than I thought I would.”

Happiness surged through my chest and curled my lips into a grin. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Liv. She was one of the nicest people I’d ever met.

I bit my lip and started drawing our subject’s arm. The trick, apparently, was to look at what you were drawing more than the paper. And from this angle, everything was foreshortened. I’d be happy if I could just tell it was a person when I was finished.

Just as I was becoming absorbed in the work, Mrs Valentine came out of her office. Her smile was gone, and her face was flushed. “I’m so very sorry, class, but I have to leave—bit of a family emergency. When you’re finished, please stack the easels in the storeroom. Henry darling, do you mind locking up?” She pulled keys out of her pocket and gave them to the model.