by Holly Bell
‘Oh, I wasn't mean,’ insisted Amanda. ‘If I had thought for an instant that either of them was in the least bit interested in seeing French polish flakes and my collections of chisels I would never have thrown them together!’
Trelawney chuckled. ‘Then they were justly served, no doubt, though I cannot help but have some sympathy for them.’
‘Also, if one of them is the spy or the murderer, I wouldn’t really want to be alone in the workshop with them. Anyway, come on. Let me have your news,’ Amanda responded.
‘Well, I got my father talking about the gifts, the particular talents of the … families. You know, Cardiubarns: spell-weaving.’
‘Flamgoynes: divination.’
‘Yes, he then told me the Cadabra gift.’
‘Farming?’ asked Amanda, in her best rendition of surprise.
‘They are “levitants” apparently,’ Trelawney responded.
‘Levitants?’ queried Amanda in a bewildered tone.
‘Levitation, moving objects around.’
Amanda laughed and opened her eyes wide in her innocent look. ‘There are people who can actually do that?’
‘So it would seem, according to my revered parent,’ he replied. ‘Your grandfather never mentioned this to you?’ Trelawney asked her, with every appearance of passing interest.
‘I think he was disinherited when he married Granny, or cut himself off, so I guess he put all that family history stuff behind him. They both did. They made a new life for themselves and, in time, for me too, and didn’t talk about the past. I think that’s generally a good philosophy, don’t you? When not so good things have happened?’
Trelawney was about to say that the past can impinge on the present but thought better of pushing it. Instead, he said,
‘Anyway, I haven’t told you about Vanessa’s information.’
‘Oo yes, do tell,’ said Amanda, relieved by the change of subject.
‘She moves about in the West End but gets clients elsewhere here and there. She told me that Vic Woodberry was part of the East End scene back in the bad old days. Went down for robbery a couple of times, but they were never able to convict him for one or two of his more lucrative raids. In Vanessa’s opinion, that’s what attracted Majolica, who had an eye to the cash and the good life. Anyone could see that was a marriage de convenance, if ever she saw one. Vanessa actually trained someone Vic was inside with. That man said Vic had turned over a new leaf and made good in the stock market, would you believe?’
‘Gracious!’
‘Vic was proud of his East End origins and had plenty of stories to impress Majolica with. Vic’s chum told Vanessa that Majolica always fancied herself as a “laydee” of exquisite taste, thought herself above her husband, liked men, despised women and generally made, er … good male friends wherever she went. Apparently, Majolica tamed a good deal in more recent years.’
‘Well, well. That does fit with what she said about living in Romping-in-the-Heye as though was it was Mayfair and Sunken Madley was the gutter. But that’s just irritating and somewhat offensive. Not the sort of thing that would make someone want to see her off for, surely?’ queried Amanda.
‘True,’ agreed Trelawney.
‘But it explains why she was a bit frosty with me. She liked you though. I could tell,’ remarked Amanda, teasingly.
‘Everyone likes me. I am Detective Inspector Trelawney – good cop.’
‘Who’s the bad one?’
‘We try not to have those any more. But I think it’s because I’m an OK dancer and she could use me for demonstrations.’
‘Possibly,’ Amanda said doubtfully. She picked up a gingernut then put it down impatiently. ‘Oh, are we any further forward?’
‘It’s all grist to the mill,’ Trelawney replied soothingly. ‘In the detecting trade, you learn to just write it all down and bide your time. Eventually, some of the dots will start to join up.’
‘If you say so,’ replied Amanda resignedly. ‘Oh by the way, you’d better watch out next Saturday. Donna told me at the class that Vanessa is planning to teach us the Rumba: the dance of lurrrrve,’ she added raising her eyebrows.
‘Thank you. Forewarned is forearmed!’
Chapter 39
Prints
‘Possess your soul in patience, Miss Cadabra,’ advised Trelawney, the following Saturday. ‘You know, if you’re going to make a habit of finding bodies, you might as well learn how the professionals deal with investigating a whodunit.’
‘Yes, but the professionals aren’t talking to me!’ Amanda exclaimed.
‘Ahem,’ he said, modestly.
‘Oh, sorry, Inspector, of course, you are a professional. But it’s just you’re not on this case. But what about your pal? He must know something,’ Amanda remarked, lighting up.
‘Well, yes, he has been keeping me in the loop,’ Trelawney confessed.
‘And?’ she asked animatedly.
‘It’s police business, Miss Cadabra,’ he replied levelly. She looked so crestfallen that he smiled. ‘Oh very well, I suppose it isn’t anything you couldn’t find out by hanging out in that Reuters of yours that you call The Corner Shop. But it’s confidential, all right?’ Trelawney added sternly.
‘Of course,’ responded Amanda, instantly brightening again. ‘And who would I tell, anyway?’
‘All right. Some of it you already know, but here goes: the police interviewed everyone at the party, as you would expect, especially those who had been attending classes at the hall. The rector gave a statement. They interviewed Donna Weathersby. Just as her brother told you, she had received the key from the rector in the afternoon, but then she had been with either clients or her brother until the time you arrived, and she delivered the key into your hands. Her brother and clients have corroborated that.’
‘OK.’
‘The neighbours and shopkeepers were interviewed. Had they seen anyone entering the hall during the last week? Had Mrs Cripps, the cleaner? The ladies who had done the flowers? No, no one had seen anything untoward.’
‘A blank so far then,’ she commented.
‘Next: prints,’ he continued.
‘They didn’t take mine,’ Amanda said. ‘I suppose because I provided them during the Lost Madley affair.’
‘Yes. They found yours, the rector’s and Mr Branscombe’s.’ Amanda thanked her gifts that she had not needed to touch the doors, as they had been opened by her spells. Her footprints down in the cellar were another matter. She had been holding her breath on this one. Surely some of her shoe prints would have been on top of Mr Branscombe’s who should have been the last person down there with the rector. But perhaps she had approached the supports by another route on the evening of the catastrophe.
‘As for footprints,’ Trelawney went on, ‘the waters were muddied; by the medic who went down there, in case there was anything that could be done for Mrs Woodberry, and it looked like someone had brushed or smudged the prints left by you, the rector and Branscombe, as well as the builders, Recket and Bogia, who erected the supports. There were scuffmarks where the dust had been disturbed. And … some pawprints all over the place.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Amanda. Tempest! Tempest, bless him, she thought. That’s why he lagged behind when we were coming back up. He must have been sweeping away my shoeprints! I must get him a treat.
‘Yes, but practically everyone, including Sergeant Baker,’ responded Trelawney, ‘has confirmed the presence of a cat in the village who is wherever he wants to be when he wants to be, frequently without his so-called owner, so I wouldn’t worry. It’s an old building; I expect there are half a dozen ways that an animal could find its way in.’
Amanda tried not to let the extent of her relief show. It appeared that Trelawney wasn’t connecting Tempest’s presence down there to her. He was pausing for a sip or two of tea. Amanda took one too. Her mouth had become unaccountably dry. He put down his mug and continued.
‘They established that the screws in the brackets of the supports
down there, keeping up the floor of the hall, had been bent with pincers or pliers, and some kind of chemical had been used to burn away the undersides of the floorboards. Traces of hydrochloric acid were found.’
‘Yes,’ said Amanda, ‘Constable Nikolaides came to ask me if I use it in my workshop. I confirmed that I have only a very small supply because Grandpa bought it years ago and we hardly ever used it. I showed her what I have.’
‘Right. Leo and Donna Weathersby were asked if they used it at the salon and they said, no. Mrs Scripps said yes, she sometimes uses it to shift stubborn stains, but it was a fairly weak solution. They’ve attempted to contact Recket and Bogia, but they are nowhere to be found. No one has seen them for the past month. The police have confirmed the recent presence of someone in the attic. The floor — the hall ceiling — had been freshly broken, most likely by a foot going through it.’
Aha, thought Amanda, so that at least had been happening in the present, at the fatal moment. She asked, ‘What about the Woodberrys? They must have interviewed Vic.’
‘They had a key to the side and front doors but not the basement. Vic was at home at the time of the incident. He was ill at the party and had gone home to recover before the class. Majolica’s relations hadn’t seen her for a long time. Apparently, she considered herself above them since she married Vic. Neighbours and any contacts were interviewed. Your summary is correct, though, Miss Cadabra, she wasn’t particularly well liked but no one had a motive for killing her.’
***
The banister was done. Amanda was back in the workshop. The days seemed to be going agonisingly slowly. The inching forward irked her. Each morning she continued to train with her grandparents, but it was difficult to concentrate. She could now lift the armoire, and all three workbenches, while keeping the saw going. Grandpa said that when she could make a cut that didn’t resemble a boa constrictor, she could consider that practice complete. Unfortunately, he made his comment mid-exercise, and she broke into a laugh that interrupted the spells and allowed everything to fall to the floor with an almighty crash.
She decided to see if Leo had any more information to yield.
Up for another elevenses? Getting cabin fever. A
10.45? Big Tease. L
See you there.
***
‘Just a few more days to go, Miss Cadabra,’ said Trelawney consolingly. ‘CI Maxwell will be back on Monday week.’
‘Anything more from your pal?’
‘Ross? Yes, Worsfold is getting restive. He knows his time in charge of the case is running out and he doesn’t have a culprit to show for it. He’s put the backs up of everyone in the village, and people are getting reluctant to talk to his team.’
‘Are the rector and I still top of the suspect list?’
‘I’m afraid so. Apparently, Worsfold wants Tempest’s pawprints taken.’
‘Good luck with that,’ replied Amanda drily. ‘Well, I tried talking to Leo again. But as no one is talking to the police, he didn’t have anything useful to tell me. Just got him to talk about himself. You know how it is, get the stream flowing and sometimes something useful floats by.’
‘What did the stream say?’
‘Italian mother. Born out of wedlock, then mother married. Step-father went off with another woman. Family devastated but mother said he still maintained them.’
‘How did Wife 2 feel about that?’
‘Leo says he thinks she didn’t know. Maybe he had his own bank account and paid out of that. Lots of couples do have separate accounts.’
‘Sounds well-to-do if he was able to maintain two households.’
‘I guess so. Anyway, Ma-maa remarried, this time father of children. Father was horrid. Mother divorced him and eventually met a nice Australian man and, once her children were independent, went out there and has been living happily ever since. Leo sounded quite wistful. I think he’d like to join her but is loyal to Donna, so I think he wants to see her settled first.’
‘Good man,’ commented Trelawney.
‘I think so,’ Amanda agreed.
‘Are you having a second lunch date as well?’
‘With Ryan? Not if I can help it. Too much limelight and I didn’t like how he wanted me along just because he’s used to having a presentable female in tow when he’s in the limelight. But as for Leo, he’s OK. I think his outsider perspective on the village could be useful in some way. At least I feel that, in talking to him, I’m trying to do something useful.’
‘Well, be careful,’ Trelawney warned Amanda. ‘This week will be the trickiest. If I were you, I wouldn’t leave the house. Don’t remind Worsfold in any way of your presence if you can possibly help it. And try and persuade that cat of yours to stay out of sight.’
Chapter 40
Warrant
It was 10.30 in the morning when the phone rang. Amanda had stopped using headphones and had her work music on quietly. She took one look at the screen and, for some reason, her stomach lurched.
‘Inspector?’
‘Miss Cadabra. Listen carefully. They’ve lifted a partial print of a woman’s shoe from the church hall cellar. Worsfold is getting a warrant to search your house and workshop.’
‘But —’
‘No. Listen to me. Don’t argue. I know you were down there that night. Don’t tell me how, or ask how I know; I just know. Now, hide the shoes you were wearing, hide anything you don’t want the police to find, do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ she said instantly.
‘Now go!’
Amanda clicked off the phone as her grandparents appeared.
‘Get your shoes, the wands and the book,’ Granny listed helpfully.
‘Mine too,’ added Grandpa.
Amanda opened a drawer and pulled out Perran’s Forrag Seothe Macungreanz A Aclowundre, the Cadabra spellbook. She hurried into the house, gathered her incriminating footwear, her old full-length wand, and Wicc’huldol Galdorwrd Nha Koomwrtdreno Aon, her grandmother’s Cardiubarn grimoire.
‘This way!’ said Senara taking the stairs, ‘and get The Hat.’
‘What about my Pocket-wand?’
‘Keep it, it’s fine. No one would guess what it is.’
Amanda ducked into her bedroom and grabbed her witch’s hat from a high shelf in her wardrobe.
‘Up here!’ came a call from the attic. Amanda struggled up the stairs with her arms full. ‘Quickly,’ urged Granny.
She was kneeling on an empty bit of floor. Amanda slid to her knees beside her. Senara intoned: ‘Agertyn forrag Senara, atdha mina vocleav.’
To Amanda’s amazement, a section of the floor acquired hinges and open like a lid.
‘In here!’ Granny instructed her. Amanda poured the items in as fast as she could.
‘How will I get them out?’ she asked. ‘That’s a voiceprint spell, isn’t it?’
‘l’ll do it. Never mind that. Bespredna,’ Granny added to floor, the hatch shut and all trace of it vanished. ‘Lift that pile of suitcases into this space.’
‘Aereval,’ said Amanda to the stack of luggage, making it rise and rapidly sail a few feet until it was over where the magical storage was. ‘Sedaasig.’ It lowered into place.
‘Good,’ said Granny. ‘Now then, get back to the workshop, as though nothing is wrong, and when they come, act surprised.’
As Amanda made her way back to her bench, she spoke hurriedly, ‘Trelawney knows I was down there. How does he know?’
‘He’s a diviner,’ replied Granny. ‘And he knows you. Tempest’s tracks sealed the deal. He knows that, of course, you’d go down there, if you could, to see if you could help the Woodberry woman and take a look at any evidence, in case you came into the firing line. He knows the Cardiubarns are spell-weavers. Why wouldn’t you know a simple spell like how to open a door?’
Amanda’s anxious face prompted Grandpa to intervene.
‘Don’t be vexed, bian. You don’t have to admit anything to him, and he won’t push you. He warned
you, didn’t he? Doesn’t that show he’s on your side?’
Amanda nodded and went back to her workplace, stilled her breathing, did some tidying up and waited for the door buzzer to sound.
Constable Nikolaides and another woman constable arrived. They searched, they looked at the soles of Amanda’s shoes but found none that matched the print. Nikolaides apologised for the disturbance, and they left.
Amanda closed the door behind them, took a puff of her inhaler and got herself to a chair in the kitchen. She sent a text to Trelawney, saying thank you for the heads up and that they’d departed empty-handed.
Joan knocked on the door on the pretence of delivering a letter and told Amanda, in scandalised accents, that the police had had the effrontery to search the rectory, as if the rector herself had something to do with Majolica’s demise. The village was abuzz with indignation and, as far as the police were concerned, shut up tightly as a clam.
Just as Amanda was beginning to relax, Trelawney called.
‘Miss Cadabra. It’s not over yet. Ross says Worsfold is brimming with frustration and is determined to make an arrest. It could be anyone. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Maybe there’s something Mike can do.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’
Amanda wondered what would happen if they arrested her. What it would be like … ‘Oh Granny! Grandpa!’
Her grandparents were reassuring and soothing, and she tried not to think the worst.
Forty-five anguished minutes later, as Amanda was taking another puff of her inhaler, the phone showed a welcome name.
‘Uncle Mike! Oh, Uncle Mike…’
‘Calm down, dear. It’s all right.’
‘How is it all right?’ Amanda demanded.
‘It’s over. You’re safe.’
‘How come?’
‘Maxwell decided to get ahead on his messages before his flight home on Saturday and saw my email. Trelawney had told me the latest, and, when I let Maxwell know that Worsfold was about to make a fool of his whole team, Maxwell clamped down on him and has thrown him off the case. Baker’s in charge until Monday.’