Murder at Tiffany's

Even a wizard can make mistakes. The trouble is, when a class 2A wizard does it, it's usually a corker.
Enter Bertrand Magnus McGowen, wizard, class 2A, if only recently and somewhat begrudgingly. It was a simple thing. he was trying to perfect a spell that would move large quantities of goods in toto, rather than a piece at a time. On the surface, the spell worked quite well. He managed to move a large carton from one end of his laboratory to the other. It would have been fine if something else hadn't occurred.
Enter MacArthur Putnam, a brakeman on the South Lakes Lines. All he had to do was place one boxcar in a siding and he was done for the night. One more car, and he could take himself and his stuffy head home to a warm bed. Was it too much to ask?
Apparently.
Enter Detective Sergeant Elise Montague of His Majesty's Royal Constabulary, which exists in a different plane of reality from this. Far removed from her jurisdiction, all she was intending to do was clear an old case file from her laptop. What she walked into was a scenario of magical goods in a world they shouldn't be, in the hands of an evil crime boss, a misplaced wizard from her plane that shouldn't be here either, and a host of innocent bystanders trying their best to cope with magic that shouldn't even work on this rock we call home.
Then there's Tiffany.
But, was there, or wasn't there, a Murder at Tiffany's?
You be the judge.
A mind-blowing tale of crime, magic, and people dealing with the fallout. Fasten the chin-strap on your mental crash helmet. It's a bumpy ride.