Bonbons and Broomsticks (BEWITCHED BY CHOCOLATE Mysteries ~ Book 5)

by H. Y. Hanna

  Whirling, Caitlyn hurried up the path again. Twilight had really fallen now and it was hard to make out shapes in the increasing gloom. Then she saw him up ahead: he had left the path and was bent over some bushes at the side of the track.

  “Professor Thrope! Professor—” Caitlyn broke off as she neared the figure and realised that it wasn’t the cryptozoologist at all. “Viktor! What are you doing here?”

  The old vampire straightened and said grouchily, “Looking for my fangs, of course! Confounded dentist—if only he had done his job… I told him they were not attached properly. I have been searching for two days, going all over the place… I’ve even been over to the neighbouring estate—”

  “To Pritchard House?”

  “Yes, and I must say, they have a terrific orchard there: apples and pears and even cherries—yes, proper English Morello cherries!—I simply had to stop and sample some. The apples were a bit early season but not bad at all… mmm, and the plums!” He smacked his sunken lips. “Wonderful, juicy red ones… Silly woman was turning them into plum chutney—they should be eaten fresh! Went in to tell her, you know, and was she grateful? Oh no, she had the audacity to call me a thieving old tramp and tell me to get out of the kitchen! Really! The nerve of some people—”

  “Wait, Viktor… you went into the kitchen at Pritchard House?” Caitlyn suddenly had an idea. “Did you see any chocolate moulds while you were there?”

  “Eh? Mould? What mould? There’s no mould on the fruit if you pick them fresh and keep them clean.”

  “Never mind…” Caitlyn was thinking rapidly. If she could get into Lady Pritchard’s kitchen and find a mould that had the exact outline of those toadstool-shaped chocolate bonbons, it would be the first piece of proof.

  “Listen, Viktor—do you think you can remember where the kitchen is?”

  “Of course I remember,” the old vampire blustered. “Nothing wrong with my memory, I assure you—”

  “Great. Can you take me there? Now?”

  Still grumbling about his missing fangs, Viktor started to lead the way. Luckily, the moon was high in the sky, and although it was on the wane and no longer a perfect silver sphere, it was still putting out a strong enough glow to see by. Caitlyn remembered that Bertha had said Dead Man’s Walk would pass right beside the Pritchard estate, before crossing into Fitzroy land—it was why it had been used by Sir Henry as a shortcut—and she wasn’t surprised when, after several minutes, she saw a smaller track branch out and disappear into the trees on their right. Viktor turned and shuffled off down the offshoot and Caitlyn hurriedly followed. A few minutes later, she found herself stepping out onto the edge of a manicured lawn. They had come out just beside Pritchard House.

  It was not as large and grand as Huntingdon Manor, of course, although it was still an impressive country house. It had probably once been a big farmhouse, which had been extended and modernised. They were facing the back of it, and what had once been the old kitchen or herb gardens had been re-landscaped in a formal style, with squares of grass and neat hedging between paved pathways. The largest section of lawn—the one they were standing beside—curved around the house and disappeared out of sight at the front.

  “The kitchen is there, at the rear,” said Viktor, pointing to a pair of double windows which were brightly lit.

  Ducking low, Caitlyn scooted across the gardens until she came to the ornamental hedge closest to the house. She followed this as it circled around the side of the building, pausing when she heard a familiar voice coming from an open window. Slowly, she looked over the top of the neatly clipped hedge.

  Viktor’s bald head popped up next to hers and he peered myopically over the hedge as well. On the other side was a wide terrace which ran along the side of the house. And leading onto the terrace was a pair of French windows. They were partially open and looked into a large sitting room, with a marble mantelpiece around a traditional fireplace and a three-piece sofa suite upholstered in expensive floral fabric. They could hear a woman talking on the phone and it was a familiar voice that Caitlyn recognised: Lady Pritchard.

  “…thank you for the condolences, Mrs Gordon-Smitherington… Yes… yes… it has been very hard but I’m bearing up as best I can… No, the police have not released the body yet, I’m afraid… No, they haven’t told me… yes… part of the investigation… No, not at all… Thank you… It was really very kind of you to call… yes, I will… Goodbye.”

  A minute later, Sir Henry’s widow came into view. Caitlyn was struck by the change in her. Gone was the pale, broken woman with shadowed eyes and despondent manner; in her place was an attractive blonde with healthy, pink, flushed cheeks and bright blue eyes, who laughed cynically to herself as she walked over to the French windows. She made as if to close them, then changed her mind and stepped out onto the terrace.

  Caitlyn froze. If Lady Pritchard came around the hedge, she was bound to see them! But to her relief, the woman walked along the terrace to the front of the house. She disappeared from view around the corner. Caitlyn bit her lip. It was risky to sneak into the kitchen now when she couldn’t see what the woman was doing and didn’t know if she might come back any minute. On the other hand, the longer they stayed huddled here, the greater the likelihood that they might be discovered too.

  She turned to the old vampire by her side. “Viktor—listen, you stay here. I’m going back to the kitchen—I’ll be really quick.” She cast a worried glance towards the front of the house. “I just hope she doesn’t come back while I’m in there—”

  “Fear not!” said Viktor, pulling himself to his full height. “I shall go and divert her.”

  “Uh, no, no, Viktor, I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

  “Oho! You doubt my abilities, do you? You do not realise how skilled I am in the art of subterfuge! The finesse of deception! The command of artifice! The flair of—”

  “Er… yes, I get the idea…” said Caitlyn. “But I still think you shouldn’t—I mean, it’s not that I don’t believe you’d be great at it—” She broke off as she realised that she was talking to empty air. “Viktor? Viktor?”

  She whirled to see the old vampire tottering determinedly towards the front of the house. “Viktor! Wait!”

  He disappeared around the corner.

  Great. Caitlyn sighed, wondering if she should run after him. Then she decided that if Viktor was going to provide a distraction anyway, she would be stupid not to take advantage of it. She slipped back to the kitchen window. A quick glance over the windowsill told her that there was no one inside, and she reached up to swing the casement out farther, grateful that the warm summer evenings meant that windows had been left open everywhere. She hitched herself up and over the window edge, rolling in and sitting on the counter for a moment, before jumping down into the middle of the room.

  It was a modern kitchen, all cold marble and gleaming chrome, which was slightly at odds with the country look of the outside of the house. Still, it meant that the kitchen units followed the standard pattern and Caitlyn was able to easily find the baking equipment stored in the large bottom drawer next to the pantry. She crouched down and, as quietly as she could, lifted out various baking trays, cake tins, loaf pans, and cooling racks… And then her eyes lit up. Piled at the bottom of the drawer was an assortment of cupcake liners, spatulas, whisks, piping bags, and nozzles… and a silicone mould tray.

  Caitlyn grabbed this eagerly. Aha! She held it up, turning it this way and that in the light to see it more clearly. Yes, each cavity showed the outline of a little toadstool mushroom, complete with spots etched on its domed top.

  A noise outside the kitchen made her stiffen. Was someone approaching? She strained her ears to listen. No. It must have been a false alarm. Still, she was nervous now and she hastily began to return everything to the drawer. Then her ears caught another sound: a familiar cranky old voice raised in indignation. Viktor! She could hear a female voice too, arguing with him, getting shriller and shriller. She groaned inw
ardly. What was going on?

  She rushed to the window and swung herself out, then ran alongside the hedge until she reached the front of the house. There she found Viktor splayed against the open front door, his arms and legs spread-eagled, barring the way for a plump, middle-aged woman in an apron, who was trying to get back in. She was diving left and then right, trying to push past him, her face purple with indignation.

  “I don’t know what you’re playing at! Let me pass, you crazy old loon!” she shouted, tugging ineffectually at Viktor’s bony shoulders. “If you don’t move aside, I am going to call the police!”

  “Ahh… unhand me, madam… you shall not pass!” cried Viktor, bracing his scrawny form against the doorframe. “Even the great troll armies could not overcome me when I was defending Glastonbury Abbey—did you think a loud-mouthed shrew like you could—”

  “Shrew?” the woman shrieked. “Who are you calling a shrew, you miserable, demented—”

  “Viktor!” Caitlyn hissed. “What are you doing?”

  “Eh?” The old vampire looked up and saw her.

  He stepped aside suddenly, out of the woman’s way, causing her to plunge forwards into the open doorway. There was a crash and the sound of breaking china, followed by a stream of shrill, angry exclamations. Caitlyn winced as Viktor tottered over to join her. She grabbed him and retreated around the house, until they were a safe distance away, tucked up against the hedge.

  “What were you doing?” Caitlyn demanded.

  The old vampire sniffed and said importantly, “I was distracting Lady Pritchard, as we discussed.”

  “Yes, but that wasn’t Lady Pritchard,” Caitlyn said in exasperation. “That was probably her housekeeper…”

  “Eh?” Viktor blinked owlishly. “Are you certain? She looked just like the woman in the sitting room.”

  Argh. Caitlyn clutched her face in her hand. She should have remembered that she couldn’t rely on Viktor’s eyesight. “Never mind… I suppose Lady Pritchard must have gone upstairs or something. The important thing is, nobody saw me in the kitchen and I—”

  She broke off as she looked down and realised that she was still clutching the silicone mould. Oh no! In her panic to leave the kitchen, she had forgotten to shove it back into the drawer, along with everything else, and had inadvertently taken it with her when she rushed out. Did she dare climb back into the kitchen to return it? She looked at the house again. She could still hear the housekeeper ranting from somewhere inside. In fact, the shrill voice seemed to be moving towards the rear of the house—the woman was probably heading to the kitchen. It would be crazy to return now. But if she didn’t put the mould back, how could the police find it in Lady Pritchard’s kitchen?

  She sighed in frustration. “Rats!”

  “…hmm? Rats? No, I doubt it—they wouldn’t be interested in teeth,” said Viktor. “No, no, I’m sure they dropped out of my mouth.”

  Caitlyn looked at him blankly, then realised that he was talking about his lost fangs again.

  “In fact, I think I must have dropped them the night I was feasting on those marvellous red currants—”

  “You mean the night of the Fitzroy dinner party,” Caitlyn said. “When Evie and I were lost and we met you.”

  “Yes, that’s right… the bush was alongside the path and I suppose the fangs could have dropped out as I was walking along… although I have been up and down several times already and I still haven’t seen them.”

  He sounded so forlorn that Caitlyn felt sorry for him. Putting her own impatience temporarily aside, she said:

  “What about the red currant bush itself? Did you look under there? If you were eating berries from it, chances are the fangs might have fallen out there and might be under—”

  “Yes, yes, I looked there first, of course, but there was nothing under the bush, other than those silly chocolates—”

  “Chocolates?” Caitlyn gripped Viktor’s arm. “What do you mean? How could there be chocolates under the bush?”

  “Well, I suppose they might have rolled under there. I saw some similar ones on the path nearby. Maybe somebody dropped them…”

  “Oh my God—yes!” cried Caitlyn, gripping Viktor’s arm. “Professor Thrope told me that he saw the tramp eating chocolates and then suddenly stagger and collapse. If the tramp had flailed around, the rest of the bonbons would have scattered everywhere. And if your red currant bush was nearby, the chocolates could have easily rolled under…”

  She trailed off as she thought of something else. She looked down at the mould she was holding. This was good evidence but it didn’t prove to the police that the chocolates which poisoned the tramp could have come from Lady Pritchard’s kitchen. The only reason she knew that was because of Professor Thrope, who had seen it when he was the Black Shuck. Somehow, she didn’t think that Inspector Walsh would take her seriously if she insisted that her information about the tramp’s chocolates came from a ghostly dog’s vision!

  But if she could find one of the chocolates left by the tramp and match it to the mould in her hand…

  She turned eagerly to the old vampire. “Are the chocolates still there, Viktor? When did you see them?” She shook her head impatiently. “Never mind, can you show me where this bush is?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Looking slightly bewildered by her request, the old vampire led her back to Dead Man’s Walk and shuffled along it until they came to a large, sprawling bush at the side of the path, covered in berries which gleamed like pearls in the moonlight. Caitlyn dropped the mould she had been carrying and knelt down to peer underneath the bush, pushing the weeds aside. There were dead leaves, curled and brown, fallen berries in the process of rotting, pebbles and rocks, and an empty snail shell… but she couldn’t see anything that remotely resembled chocolates. Caitlyn felt a stab of disappointment. Well, what did you expect? she told herself. It had been over a week since the tramp had been found, and even if some chocolates had rolled under here, they would have long since been eaten by animals or insects… or simply decomposed.

  Then she saw something. She squinted, trying to get down lower. Is that…? There was something lodged against the very base of the bush, next to the trunk. The moonlight didn’t penetrate well through the branches and it was hard to see clearly… but whatever it was, it looked very round—too perfectly round to be a stone. Caitlyn hunched down and stretched her right arm under the bush. But she could only grope blindly.

  “What are you doing?” came Viktor’s querulous voice.

  “There’s something—something very round—at the base of the bush, just beside the main stem. I think it might be a chocolate bonbon… but I can’t reach it—”

  “Ah, why didn’t you say so before? Stand back!”

  Caitlyn sat up and turned to see that Viktor had shifted into his bat form. Instead of the stooped old man in the ancient black suit, there was now a fuzzy brown fruit bat with fox-like ears, a pointy nose, and big black eyes. It squeaked importantly as it hopped towards the bush and Caitlyn moved back to let it crawl under the spreading branches. There was a rustling, more squeaks—grumbling this time—and a few minutes later, the little fruit bat emerged, its fur slightly dishevelled but triumphantly holding a gleaming brown lump in its mouth.

  Caitlyn reached for it eagerly. In the pale glow of the moon, she saw that she was holding a chocolate bonbon. It was shaped like a little round mushroom, complete with spots etched over its domed surface—a toadstool—exactly like the ones she had seen in the box at Dr Nichols’s office… and also exactly like the shapes in the chocolate mould from Lady Pritchard’s kitchen. She picked up the mould and slipped the bonbon into one of the cavities. It fitted perfectly, every groove and every line snug against the silicone surface.

  “What’s that?” said Viktor, back in his human form and peering over her shoulder.

  “Oh, Viktor, it matches!” said Caitlyn. “It’s proof—proof that Lady Pritchard made those chocolates which poisoned the tramp! An
d she probably made similar ones to poison her husband too. Lady Pritchard is the murderer!”

  She sprang to her feet. “I’ve got to return this mould to Pritchard House, so that the police can find it there when they search.”

  “Aha, I can replace it for you. With my power of vampire invisibility, I can—”

  “No, no, I need you to go to the Manor,” said Caitlyn. “You can get there faster if you fly in your bat form. Find James—Lord Fitzroy—you remember him, right? Tell him that I have proof of who the murderer is and ask him to call the police. They’ll take it more seriously coming from him. Then tell him to come to Pritchard House. I’ll wait in the gardens… Please, Viktor,” she added as she saw him hesitate. “Please just trust me and do as I ask. I’ll be fine—I promise. I won’t take any unnecessary chances. If I can’t get in the kitchen, I’ll just shove the mould in through an open window or something—anywhere that’s convenient. Hopefully, the housekeeper will find it and think that it had been misplaced, and return it to the kitchen.”

  A few minutes later, Caitlyn watched the little brown fruit bat disappear into the night sky. Then she turned and started towards Pritchard House. But she had barely gone a few steps when a dark figure stepped out from behind a bush. Caitlyn gasped as she recognised the slim, attractive blonde woman.

  “Bravo…” said Lady Pritchard, clapping her hands with exaggerated slowness. “We’re quite the little detective, aren’t we? I thought it was that journalist that I had to watch out for… but oh no, it was the nosy chocolate shop girl who worked everything out. Maybe the rumours are true and you are a witch after all.” She laughed shortly. Then she came closer and narrowed her eyes. “Where’s that old man you were with? He was here just a moment ago—I saw you talking to him. Where is he?”

  Caitlyn took a step back, keeping the distance between Lady Pritchard and herself. She couldn’t see the other woman holding a weapon, but Lady Pritchard sounded too confident to be unarmed. Otherwise, why would she be confronting Caitlyn and admitting to the murders? Caitlyn fought the urge to turn and run; she didn’t want a bullet in her back to be how she found out that Lady Pritchard was holding a concealed gun.