by Katie Penryn
“I, Mpenzi Munro, accept my calling in life. I am a witch. But I need help because I don’t know how to be a one.”
A tingling began in my toes and ran all the way up to the top of my head as the DNA, hidden away in my body cells and unacknowledged for so long, responded to my mind’s acceptance.
Gwinny watched me, her expression softening into a broad smile. “Good, Penzi. That’s great.”
I sat down again and looked at my watch. We didn’t have long for me to find out all I needed to know.
“What the hell do I have to do, Gwinny? I’ve wasted years. I’m a complete novice. How am I ever going to get up to speed with this magic stuff?”
“First off, don’t call it stuff. That’s disrespectful.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“You have my Book of Spells? Archie said he would send it to you when you were old enough.”
“Yes, his lawyers sent it in the post. But you know I have trouble reading, so how am I ever going to learn them? And even if I do, can I learn enough to be useful before you are tried and found guilty?”
“You could apply to the High Council of the Guild of White Witches for a dispensation.”
“How would that work?”
“In exceptional circumstances, they will grant you permission to involve someone who is not a member to help you.”
“You mean I could tell someone I’m a witch. Someone who is not one. Sam perhaps?”
“Yes, and he would be allowed to read the spells to you or record them for you so you could learn them by rote.”
It sounded like a lot of work, but if it would help Gwinny it was worth trying now that I was committed.
“How do I contact this High Council?”
“You have to approach a dolmen at midnight. Take with you a spray of fresh bay laurel leaves, a silver goblet of the water of life—”
“You mean eau-de-vie…cognac?”
“Yes. And a diamond—”
“A diamond? Where am I going to find a diamond?”
“You don’t have any jewelry?”
“I don’t have anything with a diamond in it.”
“Oh dear. It’s essential to make up the magic three. The portal won’t open without all three.”
“And a silver goblet?”
As I asked the question a flash of inspiration struck me. The brocante, of course. There had to be a diamond in there somewhere. I remember seeing a collection of goblets and gold plate.
“I’m sure I’ll find something in the brocante.”
“Good thinking. You’ll need to take an animal with you as a member of the natural kingdom and as a witness.”
“With two dogs and a cat, that and the cognac are the easy parts.”
“Light the eau-de-vie and while it flames, walk three times round the dolmen in a clockwise direction. Don’t go widdershins or you won’t get through to the Guild.”
The guard stuck his head in. “Time please, ladies.”
He entered the room and levered Gwinny out of her chair. To my utter astonishment I found myself running round the table and kissing her on both cheeks.
“Good luck, Penzi,” she whispered as the guard pushed her out into the corridor.
Chapter 14
I had much to mull over as I drove home which is probably why I wasn’t driving as defensively as I usually do. As I turned onto the roundabout at the top of the main, street a small battered car came zooming out of the side road and clipped my rear wing spinning me round like top and fetching me up against a fire hydrant on the island. I was too startled to move. The airbag had deployed cutting off my view. As it slowly deflated I checked myself out. No damage as far as I could tell. But what about the other driver? Stupid idiot. Shooting out on the roundabout like that without giving way. I’d give him a piece of my mind.
I scrambled out of the hire car and stood swaying for a moment or two to get my bearings. Cars shot past me horns blaring. Not too many as the morning rush hour was over. The car that had sideswiped me had ended up half on and half off the curb on the outer ring of the roundabout. It was an antique Deux Chevaux, its front stove in. The driver was bent over the wheel, there being no airbag in a car that old. I waited for a gap in the traffic and dashed over ready to yell my disgust.
My anger vanished when I saw the distress of the driver. She was sobbing her heart out to the accompaniment of the frightened shrieks of two small children in the car seats in the back. Bulging bin bags and plastic boxes filled up every square inch of space. Toys poked out of the gaps in the load.
I knocked on the window and she wound it down turning to look up at me, her hazel eyes lost in the discoloration of two black eyes. Her tears streaked through fresh blood and edged round old scabs on her face to fall on her tatty washed-out T-shirt. Purpling bruises ran down her skinny arms.
“I’m so sorry,” she said through split and bloated lips.
“You’re hurt. Can you move? You ought to get out of the car if you can. I’ll help with the children.”
I opened her door for her. She winced as she eased herself out and straightened up.
“Sit down on the curb while I get the children,” I said.
I pushed the front seat down and edged into the car to unstrap the kids who were belting out their anxiety by now. I handed the first child to his mother and was on the way back for the second when the gendarmes turned up. While they pulled my car off the island and parked it at the side of the road, I disengaged the second child and passed her to her mother.
The chief came over to talk to us. We had to wait for the paramedics he said. If no one was hurt, the police would leave. In that case, it would be up to us to sort things out with our insurance companies. All this time the young woman remained silent, either too shocked or too scared to speak again.
The paramedics came, checked the children and passed them as unhurt. When it came to the mother there were raised eyebrows all round. By that time I had realized that bruises don’t develop that quickly. They were not caused by the accident. Did she want to report an assault, they asked her but she shook her head, so they could take no action.
As they drove off I asked her, “Do you have anyone I can call for you? Husband? Boyfriend?”
“No, no,” she said shaking her head. She hoisted one child onto her hip and grabbed hold of the other one’s hand and began to limp away down the road.
I chased after her and caught hold of her. I urged her to get into my car. At first she wouldn’t, but when the children’s wailing started up again, she nodded and followed me back. The only course of action I could think of was to take them home with me and decide what to do from there.
*
Sam and Jimbo came out to help when they saw the state of my car. Sam ran back into the house to put the dogs in the study. In no time we had the mother and children safe inside. Sam knocked up some sandwiches and a pot of coffee and Jimbo gave the children a wash.
Meanwhile I tried to find out who the mother was and where she lived. It wasn’t until she had drunk a cup of sweet coffee that she relaxed enough to give me her name, Audrey Petit.
Sam beckoned to me from the door. “I think she’s run away,” he whispered when I joined him.
“I’d decided the same thing,” I told him.
“She can’t go back. It looks as if she’s been beaten.”
I nodded and returned to crouch down in front of Audrey. “Have you run away from home?”
She shrank away from me. “I can’t go back.”
“You don’t have to. You can stay here with us. We have plenty of room. It’s a big old house.”
She stared at me for a few seconds. “Really? I can stay? You are so kind. But what about your car and the damage? And the insurance company?”
“Don’t worry about it. I can afford it. It’s a hire car so there’s no personal investment involved.”
She reached out to touch my arm. “Thank you. I will repay you.”
“There’s no need.
Now let’s get you and the children settled upstairs. The children need a nap after all that drama.”
We took the three of them up to one of the spare bedrooms and saw them all tucked in. Felix followed us up meowing all the way.
“We’ll call you when lunch is ready, Come Felix,” I said as I left the room. Felix turned his back on me.
“Leave him,” said Audrey. “I like cats.”
I closed the door leaving them in peace and security.
Jimbo ran back down the stairs, but Sam hung back saying he wanted to talk to me in private.
*
I pulled him into the study with me. “What is it?”
He crossed over to the table under the window and picked up the length of wire with the strange handles that had been left on top of the basket of onions.
“Do you know what this is, Penzi?”
“No, the postwoman wouldn’t tell me what it was.”
“What’s the postwoman got to do with it?”
I explained about the onions and the French saying, and how the postwoman thought it might be a warning to keep my nose out of other people’s business.
“It was a warning all right. This is a garrotte. It’s used to strangle. But it does more than that. It slices through the carotid arteries. It was the chosen method of execution in the olden days.”
“It works like a cheese wire?”
“Exactly. No one with your best interests at heart would leave that on your doorstep.”
“So, someone’s worried. But we’re not giving up. There’s too much at stake here for Gwinny.”
“Agreed. But, Penzi, we must be careful, especially you.”
Chapter 15
Martine Courrier’s yellow post van drew up as we were finishing up lunch with the cheese course. As we had only one delivery a day I wondered if she had some news for me so I hurried out to open the door reaching it before she rang. I invited her in to join us for a glass of wine and a coffee.
“With pleasure, but I can’t stay long I have to get home to my aged mother.”
Audrey looked up in alarm when I ushered Martine into the kitchen. Martine raised her eyebrows at me. I explained Audrey was spending a couple of days with us.
I introduced everyone to Martine. She chucked the two little children under the chin and took the seat next to Audrey. “Don’t worry my little one. I will not tell anyone I have seen you here. You have made the right decision.”
Sam handed Martine a glass of wine and a slice of tart.
She took it from him with a smile. “Thank you, I can never refuse a slice of tart even though I haven’t had my lunch yet. I wanted to tell you something I didn’t remember until I had left this morning.”
“Something about the victim?” Sam asked.
“Yes. I know who her ex-boyfriend is – a Harry Llewellyn. He lives on my round. I used to see the two of them together at his house. For the last two months, I guess since they broke up, he has gone to pieces. His neighbors say he’s lost his job. He stays in bed all morning. The front garden if full of garbage bags and old boxes full of empty wine bottles. He doesn’t bother to put out his wheelie-bin and he takes nothing to the recycling center. When I peep through the window he is either snoring or on his computer.”
“The inference being that he’s taken the break-up hard?”
“I would say so.”
Sam sighed. “That’s suspect number five. We’re racking up suspects but not getting much further in tracking down their alibis.”
Martine drained her wine and replaced her glass on the table. “You know, I could help you there, too. People are always happy to talk to the postwoman especially here in France where we have the responsibility to keep an eye open for people in trouble. What time do the police say the murder was committed? I could check with the neighbors to find out if Monsieur Llewellyn left the house or not.”
“Between midnight and 2 a.m.”
“I’ll do that — ask about. That will help you?”
Sam and I nodded and thanked her.
She said she had to leave when she had eaten her tart. Her mother would be growing anxious.
“I’ll see you out,” I said ushering her out into the hall.
As she passed through the front door she whispered to me, “That girl’s husband is a brute and a bully. They live on my route, too. It’s good that you’ve given her a safe haven, but be careful. He might cause trouble.”
As I closed the door my phone rang. It was the garage to say our car was ready for collection. They added that they had picked up Audrey’s car. Good. We could transfer her belongings to our car and bring them home for her.
As we all needed a siesta behind closed shutters in the July heat, Sam and I didn’t set off for the garage until three thirty. I settled the bill for the repairs while Sam collected the jumble of Audrey’s belongings from inside her car and the three cardboard boxes roughly roped onto the roof rack.
Felix had insisted on coming with us. He sat on the bonnet of our car watching Sam. We discussed repairing Audrey’s car with the garage man but he told me it was beyond hope. It had no insurance and its road worthy certificate was three years out of date.
When I walked back out with the garage owner, Sam was admiring a brand new Lexus parked up near our car.
“Great car, isn’t it?” Sam said. “I wish it was mine.”
He ran his hand along the roof and blew the dust off his fingers. “It’s been here some time by the look of it.”
“It came in the same night as yours. Some silly woman ran out of petrol late on Saturday night. She thought the car had broken down and phoned for help. I couldn’t rescue her immediately because I was dealing with your car. Later on, I’d almost reached the breakdown site when she phoned me again to say a Good Samaritan had stopped for her. He told her there was nothing wrong with the car. It had just run out of fuel. He was taking her to the nearest service station to get her an emergency can. We arranged for her to leave the keys under the front wheel. I waited for them to come back but they never did so I winched the car onto the low loader and bought it back here.”
“So why’s the car still here?”
“She never came back for it. I never heard from her again. I thought I’d wait until the end of the week and then contact the police.”
“But you know who it belongs to from the log book, surely? Did you phone her?”
“Of course, but there was never any answer.”
I touched the car and a tingle ran up my arm. I didn’t like this story. Call it intuition. “Who is the owner, if you don’t mind telling us?”
“Some English name.” He reached into the car and pulled out the green log book. “Here it is. Edna Yardley, 12 Rue Amandine, Beaucoup-sur-mer.”
Sam and I exchanged glances.
“You do know who that is, don’t you?” I asked the garage man.
He looked back at me blankly. “No….”
He clapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh heavens. I never put two and two together. It’s that woman who was murdered, isn’t it? I’ll have to contact the police at once.”
He dashed into his office.
We walked around to our car.
“At least now the police will know there was someone else who touched Edna’s life on Saturday night,” I said.
Sam answered me with another one of his heavy sighs. “Yes, but Penzi. That makes six suspects. The list is growing, and we’re getting no closer.”
*
Audrey and her children ran out to greet the car, happy to be reunited with all that they owned in the world. The kids couldn’t wait for the car to be unloaded. They climbed in through the back and rooted about for their favorite toys. Sam helped carry everything inside, coiled up the rope and threw it behind the front door.
Audrey stood quietly waiting for their exuberance to diminish. She ran her hands through her lank dishwater blond hair and down her shabby T-shirt and stained jeans. “Thanks so much. We need a change of cloth
es as you can see.”
I gave her a quick hug. “Everything will work out. Just you wait and see. But I do have some bad news for you.”
She gasped. “He knows where I am?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s your car. Beyond repair the garage man said. It’ll have to be scrapped.”
Audrey reeled back and a tear escaped her eye. She wiped it away and blew her nose on the hem of her T-shirt. “Not a good example for the kids,” she said with a weary smile. “Shape up, Audrey. You’ll get a job, find somewhere to live and buy a new car.”
Sam coaxed the children out of the car and set to unloading the bin bags holding Audrey’s worldly goods.
“That’s the spirit,” he said, passing a box of toiletries and makeup to Audrey.
I told the kids to go into the house and send Jimbo out to help us.
With all three of us working away we had Audrey’s stuff stowed in the guest bedroom she was sharing with the children.
After tea Audrey took her children and Jimbo down to the beach for a romp saying they needed to feel like children for a while. Sam and I took the dogs for a walk as they are not allowed on the beach at Beaucoup-sur-mer. Felix came along, too, with his new blue leather leash. I had to carry him for the return journey. His little legs couldn’t keep up with Zig and Zag. He snuggled down into the crook of my arm and purred his head off.
A hundred and ninety-seven dead rats spoke to his prowess as a ratter, but how on earth did my father think Felix could be my bodyguard? A cute little cat like that?
*
Nightfall being late during Summer Time, it was still light when the others went up to bed, Jimbo to sleep and Sam to do whatever he does on his computer for hours at a time. Although I was also tired, I couldn’t relax. I wandered about the house picking up and tidying the kitchen. The windows stood open to catch the evening breeze coming in off the sea. I needed fresh air and some me-time. The seafront beckoned offering me both. I left the dogs in their baskets in the kitchen and Felix asleep on his cushion on top of the piano.