Amanda Cadabra and The Flawless Plan

by Holly Bell

  Catch and Dispatch

  ‘So, young niece. You’ve been busy,’ said Hogarth, as Amanda, in the guise of cabbie, on his orders, drove Claire’s lime green Audi Sportback out of Heathrow Terminal 3.

  ‘Yes, but I have a feeling that I’ve just messed things up,’ Amanda replied regretfully, ‘and made no progress in the one area I should have. If anything, I’ve gone backwards. I’m bringing the Flamgoynes down on my people, and don’t know who’s spying for them, if indeed it is them that the spy is spying for. We still don’t know who sent my horrid family over the cliff, and, oh yes, I played a part in the destruction of my village church hall.’

  Hogarth chuckled. ‘I think you take an unnecessarily bleak view of the situation. Let’s go to our luxury lair, shall we? And I will endeavour to show you that you have done far better than you think.’

  Presently they drew into Britain’s worst motorway service station: the notorious Watford Gap, Eastbound on the A4 highway linking the main airport to London. Seated in relative privacy with hot chocolate and coffee respectively before them, Hogarth began.

  ‘The Flamgoyne incursion has been waiting to happen ever since the Cardiubarns were reduced to you and Senara. And, I’m sure, they’ve only just decided to risk all on one throw of the dice, so you have time to prepare.’

  ‘Gather my army?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘Army: no. Home Guard: yes,’ Hogarth corrected her. ‘The source or sources of the magical power that they know exists in and around Sunken Madley, is an unknown quantity to them. They are taking a risk. There will be dissent in the ranks, regarding moving against the village. All of which gives you a number of advantages.’

  Amanda felt slightly more optimistic.

  ‘As to the spy,’ continued Uncle Mike, ‘how far have you got? You do know someone was watching that day in the hall.’

  ‘Yes, the little girl I told you about —’

  ‘Sophy?’

  ‘Yes. She said there was a small dark man and a tall blond one. I have no idea who the small dark man could be, but surely the tall blond has to be Ryan. He’s the only tall blond in the village, except the Colonel, and I can’t believe he’d be the spy. Besides, Ryan is the only one fitting the description who’s recently moved in. Except he was at the party and, like everyone there, has an alibi.’

  ‘Does he?’

  Amanda stopped and reconsidered. ‘Well … there were a lot of people there. I looked at the assistant librarian’s photos but they only showed the lit areas just around the tables. I would have said Ryan’s number one fan Kieran, my solicitor’s son, would have known if he was there, but, thanks to my intercession, which I’d hoped might make him a useful tag of Ryan’s movements, he and my teenage friend Ruth are now thick as thieves. A plane could have crashed into the orchard and I doubt Kieran would have noticed.’

  ‘Don’t despair, my dear, it takes time to develop a mole, especially if they don’t realise that they are intended to be one. Those two young people may still turn out to be helpful in the future. Meanwhile, tell me what you remember seeing before you left the orchard for the church hall,’ said Hogarth.

  ‘We’d all walked down from the church to the orchard,’ Amanda recalled, ‘like we do every year. There was singing, of course …’

  ‘Singing what?’

  ‘The Appel Songe,’ replied Amanda.

  ‘You sing that every year?’ queried Hogarth.

  ‘Of course. We sing a whole load of apple-related songs.’

  ‘The same ones every year?’ he checked.

  ‘Yes, there’s actually an order to it. Silly maybe, but we sing them in a sort of chain one after the other as we eat and drink and go around blessing the trees and tying pretty things on the branches.’ Amanda stopped.

  ‘Uncle Mike! There’s an order to the songs. It isn’t written down. Only people who are Village would know it. If Ryan is the spy, he won’t have been present for one of the songs. He won’t know that it was sung …. Let’s see … it was a quarter to 6 when I left ... and there were a few verses of The Appel Songe left. He would have needed time to get up there, into the hall attic. The song after The Appel Songe is Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree … He wouldn’t know that they sang it … But how do I catch him out?’

  ‘You’ll find a way,’ said Hogarth confidently. ‘See? You’re making excellent progress.’

  ‘And, I think I know why he was really up there. Leo said someone had agreed to film Vic falling over, which is what Leo thought Donna had planned. Why would someone like Ryan agree to be in on something so silly? But what if Donna told him she was planning something more dramatic? Not murder, but something more risky. If she was setting me up to be the person who’d witness it, he might have been expecting me to use a spell to save Vic, thus exposing myself as part of the source of the magic that has been radiating from the area of the village!’

  ‘Very good. And of course, if he had hung around ...’

  ‘He would have seen me open the basement doors without a key. Yes. But I’m sure that as soon as he saw that Donna meant murder, he was out of the skylight as fast as he could climb, taking the rope with him.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘But then, why Ryan? He has no connection with Cornwall, he doesn’t need money, why would he spy for the Flamgoynes? But then, what if he’s watching me for someone else? Some other reason? Something about me that I don’t know about. I can’t make sense of it. He’s successful at a sport he loves and he’s an OK-ish sort of person. And yet, I do think it was him up there.’

  ‘You’ve actually come a long way. Are you sure you’ve made no progress on the family minibus affair?’

  ‘Well, I’m sure it’s narrowed down to either Granny, for the best of reasons, or one or more Flamgoynes. Both had motives, but I’m not sure about means or opportunity. How would the Flamgoynes have known about the vehicle or its route, for example? How could Granny have set it up, seeing as she was in Sunken Madley on the day that it happened? Whoever did it, they’ve got away with it for 30 years. The flawless plan. The perfect murder. The perfect murders .… So far…. The inspector was 12 when it happened, and his father was still taking him to Flamgoyne, I think. My instinct is that he saw or heard something that has some bearing on that day. I need him to remember!’

  ‘You’re sounding more and more alike, you two,’ remarked Hogarth, amused. ‘But to return to your list of imagined woes: as for the hall, that was an accident waiting to happen. It was built that way.’

  ‘That’s true. And the rector is thrilled actually. She’s plotting revolution: a modern church hall!’

  ‘There you are then. Well done, my niece.’

  ‘So…,’ Amanda said, idly stirring her hot chocolate. ‘Once I establish Ryan is the spy, … I expect the Inspector won’t need to …’

  ‘Oh, Trelawney’s job will only be beginning,’ replied Hogarth. ‘We need to know why you’re being watched. And then, once we know, we start feeding in the information that we want his masters to have. Trelawney has his work cut out for him.’

  ‘Ah. Right,’ said Amanda, with carefully studied nonchalance.

  Hogarth leaned back, enjoying himself. ‘Yes, I’m afraid you’re going to have continue to endure his presence. Glad to see you’re taking it so well.’

  ‘Inspector Trelawney has been of great assistance,’ she declared. ‘I am pleased to hear that his visits to Sunken Madley will be ongoing.’

  Hogarth grinned. ‘Well, well. He’s gone from being National Irritant to “of great assistance”. There must be a medal for that. Good. Let’s drink up. You have a train to get me on, niece.’

  ***

  ‘So Captain Dunkley helped you out in the end. Have you helped him in return?’ asked Amelia casually.

  ‘No. Oh ... no, you’re right,’ answered Amanda, conscience-stricken. ‘I haven’t. But … well, I’ve never tried to help anyone like him move on. What if he won’t go? I mean, he wants an explanation for what happened to him,
and an apology, I expect … aha!’

  ***

  ‘Sandra?’

  ‘Hi Amanda. Everything OK?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I need a small favour, but in the strictest confidence. No one must know that I asked you.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sandra answered warmly. ‘Anything.’

  ‘Do you have the playlist for the Feast?’

  ***

  ‘Hello, Rector, how are things?’

  ‘Oh, fine, Amanda. You know, I thought of another good thing about having the old hall in ruins; I shan’t have to get new keys cut!’

  Amanda laughed. 'Do you mind if I take a last look at it?’

  ‘You’d better do it soon; the site's being boarded up tomorrow, for health and safety.’

  It was quiet, until Amanda struggled up the shifting debris to where she thought the hole might have been.

  ‘Mr Recket? ’ she called.

  ‘Another one, eh?’ said a voice behind her.

  Amanda jumped and disturbed the jumble of wood beneath her feet

  ‘Mind yerself, love.’

  She turned to see a man with a round cherubic face and blue eyes, dressed in a jacket and cloth cap, seemingly waist high in the pile of what had been the roof.

  ‘Ah, hello. Mr Recket?’

  'The very same. I take it this is the scene of a disaster, down, in some way, to yours truly? Though I never seen one this bad before. They usually repairs it long before it ends up in a heap. But I’m here to do the business as usual,’ he replied readily.

  ‘What business it that?’ asked Amanda curiously.

  ‘I learned the error of my ways, Miss. I come to say sorry and help the person on their way what is stuck in the place where they has the accident, see?’

  ‘You mean other people have died because of your sabotages?’ asked Amanda, shocked.

  ‘Not necessarily, but often they keeps coming back to it and can’t get on, see?’ explained Mr Recket.

  ‘Can’t move on to the next …?’

  ‘That’s right. So I ‘elps,’ he stated virtuously.

  ‘That’s what I was hoping, Mr Recket,’ replied Amanda. 'That if you explained to Captain Dunkley what happened and said you were sorry, he might be able to get on his way.’

  ‘Give it a try, Miss,’ Recket said encouragingly.

  Amanda looked towards the spot where she had last seen the captain and called his name. Presently he appeared, also waist high in the ruin. He looked Amanda up and down, and demanded to know what she was doing floating up there, but then listened to Mr Recket.

  ‘I see,’ he harrumphed. ‘Well, I don’t know about all this. Where’s your employer, Miss Cadabra? Why isn’t he here? And you, man, I demand to see your superior. ’

  ‘I'm my superior, cap'n; I works for the family business.’

  ‘This is all very irregular,’ replied Dunkley, much put out.

  They were getting nowhere. Finally, Recket whispered to Amanda, 'Leave this to me.’ He turned to Dunkley. 'Cap'n, you know what? That’s just what your Nanny Smith used to say.’

  ‘Nanny Smith? Nanny Philby, you mean,’ replied the captain, as though Recket was an idiot.

  ‘That’s right. Of course. What was her first name, now? Daphne?’

  ‘Geraldine’ Dunkley corrected Recket crossly.

  ‘Geraldine Philby. That’s right. ’Scuse me for coupla minutes,’ said the builder, and melted into the ether.

  Amanda patiently heard Dunkley out as he exclaimed and spluttered about his situation, until Recket reappeared with a white-haired bonneted lady of upright mien but kindly disposition. She interrupted Dunkley’s diatribe with a carrying call.

  ‘Master Fortescue!’

  Dunkley turned, and his face went from affronted to disbelief to joy.

  ‘Nanny!' he cried, apparently hurrying through the rubble ‘Oh, Nanny!’ He hugged her with relief.

  ‘Now, Master Fortescue, none of your nonsense,’ the lady instructed him. ‘Mr Recket has explained everything to you and ...’

  ‘But that woman was saying it was 2019 and there’s a queen and a … a female prime minister —‘

  ‘I hope you haven't been impolite to the lady, Master Fortescue.’

  ‘Well, er,’ he muttered sheepishly.

  ‘Come along now.’

  ‘Where are we going, Nanny?’

  ‘Where everything will become perfectly clear to you, Master Fortescue.' She took his arm and steered him towards where the side door at the other end of the hall had once stood. It was now a bright rectangle of white light.

  ‘Oh, all right, Nanny,’ Dunkley said meekly.

  ‘Say goodbye to Miss Cadabra now.’

  He turned and flapped his hand, saying politely, ‘Goodbye, Miss Cadabra.’

  'Goodbye Captain,’ answered Amanda, ‘and thank you for your help.'

  Nanny led her charge through the portal. Recket stood for a moment before it, looked back at Amanda, raised his cap and winked. Then he was gone, and with the sound of the door sliding shut, the light went out.

  ‘Hm,' said Amanda. 'Job done.' Tempest looked at her meaningfully.

  ‘'Yes, of course, your Highness.’ She swept a curtsey. ‘Luncheon!’

  ***

  ‘I’m glad you were able to make it,’ said Amanda, smiling sweetly at the man opposite.

  ‘I’m glad you asked me,’ he replied warmly.

  ‘You gave me such a wonderful treat last time, it was the least I could do, and I was thinking, I’d like to try the hot chocolate here with coconut milk, and maybe write a little review for the dairy-free community?’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful. But then you are,’ he said admiringly.

  ‘Thank you. Sandra is Village, you see, and she’s worked so hard on this place, and I’d love to see her succeed.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, regarding her glowingly. Ryan Ford looked around for a waiter to take their order.

  At that moment, the song that had been playing ended, and a new track began.

  ‘Oh, I do like this one, don’t you?’ enthused Amanda. Ryan stopped to listen.

  ‘Ah yes,’ he responded.

  ‘Come to think of it,’ she said, ‘it would have been an obvious choice for the Feast.’

  ‘Yes, I can’t think why they didn’t play it,’ Ryan Ford agreed.

  ‘Next year,’ Amanda said, cheerily, and began to sing along, ‘“Don’t sit under the apple tree ….”’

  Chapter 53

  New Year

  ‘You did well to be dancing again only a week after being in hospital,’ Trelawney said, as he made up the fire. It had become a routine with them, after the Saturday dance class to come back to the cottage; Amanda made the tea and he lit the kindling in the hearth to set the blaze alight.

  ‘Thank you, but I sat down as much as I could.’

  ‘Will you be all right for tomorrow?’ he asked solicitously.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss the New Year’s Eve Ball for the world!’ she replied enthusiastically. ‘But I shall pace myself.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Oh, your evening clothes must have got ruined on Christmas Eve!’ Amanda exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, but I have something for tomorrow night, so no worries there,’ Trelawney responded calmly.

  ‘Was it insured? With the place you hired it from?’

  ‘It wasn’t hired. It belonged to my great uncle, who won’t be requiring it back,’ Trelawney replied gravely but with a telltale twinkle.

  Presently they were seated opposite one another as usual on either side of the fire with their mugs of tea; Trelawney with a plate of shortcake at his elbow and Amanda with gingernuts beside her.

  ‘I helped Dunkley on his way,’ she said.

  ‘To the ... next dimension?’ he asked hesitantly.

  ‘That’s right. Well, that’s what we call it. I don’t really understand it, but anyway yes.’ Amanda told him how Recket had managed Dunkley, and Trelawney laughed heartily at the tale.
<
br />   ‘What about the little girl in the crypt?’ he enquired.

  ‘Sophy? Of course, I shall help her, but there’s one thing I need to talk to her about again. A part of the puzzle that still remains unsolved.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Trelawney invited her.

  ‘Well, Dunkley said a woman went up the ladder to the hatch carrying a rope with a hook on it.’

  ‘Yes, the police found a skylight up there in the attic and scratches on the window frame,’ he replied. ‘So I think we can gather how Ryan Ford got up there and back down on the night of the murder.’

  ‘Aha. OK. But here’s the riddle that’s been bothering me. Now, we know that during Sophy’s time, there was a barn on the site of the church hall, and she and Percy, the young Dunkley of those days, were hiding up there watching the dancers of their time, but she could still see what happened 200 years later on the night of the murder. Now, Sophy said she saw a small dark man and a tall blonde one. The latter is easy: Ryan Ford. But the first man? And how come she didn’t see the woman whom Captain Dunkley saw going up the ladder?’

  Trelawney said thoughtfully, ‘It’s as though the woman became a man when she entered Sophy’s time-frame.’

  Amanda stopped still, biscuit half-raised to her mouth. ‘Time-frame … history … in Sophy’s time … men wore their hair short, but some men, older men and military officers, still wore wigs with curls and often a ponytail. If what Sophy saw was a woman in trousers with her hair like that, she may have assumed that maybe it was a sailor or a soldier. Small, dark, hair tied back, and add the dark eyes and red lips from Captain Dunkley’s description, and you have … Donna Weathersby.’

  ‘That makes sense. Well done.’

  ‘Good. Then I will do my best to help Sophy on her way.’

  ‘Two hundred years is a long time to be stuck in a crypt.’ Trelawney remarked sympathetically.

  ‘Well, according to my Aunt Amelia —’