The Witch Who Mysteries Box Set

by Katie Penryn

  “What can we do?” asked Sam. “She’ll never live it down in this little town.”

  “We have to find her,” I said, “Before he has time to do the deed. So time is short. He probably took her somewhere for a romantic dinner. Maybe some dancing and then a hotel. We have to find it.”

  Penzi switched her phone on. “Does anyone know where the band is staying?”

  We all shook our heads. “But Kiki might know.”

  Penzi passed me her phone to find the number. When I called, Kiki gave us the address. Sam and I piled into Penzi’s car. Penzi was to stay at home and act as co-coordinator while Sam and I would check out their digs. Maybe it was all quite innocent, and we’d find Emmanuelle listening to music with Johnny at their house.

  It wasn’t to be. Zack came to the door. He’d been drinking and co-operation about anything to do with Jonny was the last thing on his mind, but he did tell us that Jonny had hired a motor bike because he had something special on that night.

  “You know what Jonny’s like. That means a woman,” he added.

  “Did he say where he was headed?” I asked.

  “Not a peep. Now do you mind if I carry on with my drinking?” he asked, pushing the door to in our faces.

  “What now?” Sam asked.

  “We could ask Dubois to get his men to check out all the hotel registers in the area, but that will take hours, and Jonny probably used a false name.”

  Sam slammed his fist against the bonnet of the car. “Wait till I get my hands on that louse.”

  My phone chirped. Penzi.

  “Are you getting anywhere?”

  “Sadly, no.”

  “Come home at once. I’ve had a brilliant idea,” she said.

  Chapter 11

  With all the calls from Monsieur Bonhomie and Dubois the night dragged on while I waited to hear news from Felix and Sam. Audrey had gone up to bed long ago. All of a sudden I thought about magic. Weren’t there ways to find somebody or something? Crystal balls, enchanted mirrors. I could be forgiven for not thinking of it before, but all this magic stuff was still new to me. I wanted to Google for information but my dyslexia didn’t allow that. What could I do? I didn’t want to wake Jimbo up. Audrey didn’t know I was a witch. That left Gwinny.

  She’d offered to help me with magic once before, and I had brushed her off. I hadn’t wanted to knuckle under to her superior knowledge, limited as it was. Too much buried antagonism lay between us. I couldn’t ask Felix to help me. He was miles away. It had to be Gwinny. I would have to put aside my childish pride if I wanted to find Emmanuelle before Jonny spoiled her reputation and broke her heart.

  I ran upstairs to her bedroom and knocked on her door. I’d never visited her room before. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. When she didn’t answer I entered and tiptoed over to her bed. She lay on her side breathing deeply. In her sleep her skin had lost its wrinkles. A surge of pity swept through me for this woman who had given up her family in the pursuit of a dream which had never come true.

  “Gwinny,” I whispered shaking her shoulder.

  She opened her eyes and stared at me without seeing me.

  “Gwinny?” I said again. “I need you.”

  “What? Penzi is that you? Did you say you needed me?”

  “I need your help to find Emmanuelle. We have to use magic before it’s too late, and I can’t Google or read the Book of Spells. Please help me.”

  “Penzi, if you need me, that’s all you have to say,” she said leaping out of bed and throwing on her dressing gown. “Fetch the book. I’ll meet you in the study.”

  Minutes later we had the Book of Spells open on my desk in the study.

  “What were you thinking?” she asked me.

  “I want to see if we can find out where she is — by magic. We don’t have a crystal ball, but isn’t there something about a magic mirror.”

  “You mean a scrying mirror? It doesn’t have to be a mirror. A bowl of water will work if you say the right words.”

  “Quick, turn to the page and teach it to me.”

  Gwinny found the page and glanced at the window where the full moon rode high in the sky. “We need a source of natural light. Moonlight’s best, so we’re in luck tonight.”

  She taught me the spell. Her patience amazed me. I remembered how annoyed she used to get with me when I was a child. She had changed for the better.

  Once I had the spell which proved one of the easier ones to learn, we fetched a glass bowl from the kitchen. We were on the point of leaving when Zag dashed out of the kitchen, catching us up at the front door.

  “Where are you two women going at this time of night in your pajamas?” he asked his hackles rising. “And with no one to protect you? No Felix. No Sam.”

  I hadn’t been too sanguine about Gwinny’s idea of performing the spell on the beach after my last nasty experience there after dark, but Gwinny said seawater bathed in moonlight beat ordinary tap water, and we needed all the help we could get as time was running out for Emmanuelle’s virtue and reputation.

  “You’re right, Zag,” I said patting his head. “We’ll wait while you fetch Zig. We should have you with us as a deterrent.”

  Zag woke his sister up from a deep doggy dream. “What now?” she grumbled until we’d explained the problem.

  “I like Emmanuelle,” she said. “Of course I’ll come, you need us with you.”

  We hurried up the cobbled street to the Esplanade and down the steps to the beach. Gwinny filled the bowl with seawater while I hollowed out a hole in the sand to hold it. We wedged the bowl and packed it round with sand to stop it from tipping over and to create a dark background. The dogs took up station one on either side of us. We knelt on the sand and calmed ourselves with several deep breaths. The moonlight shone down on the gentle waves, the beams reaching up to our bowl of seawater.

  I said the magic words and bent to look deep into the dark water. The cold light of the moon reflected and sparkled off the surface. At first I saw nothing, but as I let the stress fall away an image began to appear. Gwinny saw it, too.

  We looked up at each other, confused by what we saw — a motorcycle. What had a motorcycle got to do with a magic spell in the middle of the night? Motorcycles and magic? That jarred.

  “It’s not working,” I said flicking my fingers across the surface of the water.

  “Don’t. Let it settle and look again.”

  The motorcycle reappeared. It stood on its stand at the foot of a flight of steps leading up to what looked like a hotel door. I skimmed the water again and when it settled the sign over the door came into focus — Hotel Mimosa.

  I pulled out my phone and called Felix.

  “Whoa,” he said. “We’re halfway home. What is it?”

  “Does a motorcycle mean anything to you in the context of Emmanuelle’s escapade tonight?” I asked him.

  “Wow, yes. Jonny hired one and that must have been his transport tonight. Why?”

  “Don’t ask questions, Felix. Just go to the Hotel Mimosa. Google it and get there as fast as you can. That’s where they are.”

  “Right, boss. Sam’s driving. I’ll do it now.”

  “Call me as soon as you have any news.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  Chapter 12

  Felix

  The Hotel Mimosa lay in the opposite direction. Sam flung the car round, and we zoomed off again at top speed.

  “Just you wait till I get my hands on him,” said Sam letting go of the wheel and shaking his fists.

  “Steady on or we won’t get there in one piece. Here it is coming up now on the left.”

  Sam swerved into the parking lot and there in front of us stood a motorbike. We had no way of knowing if it was the right bike. With our fingers mentally crossed we hurled ourselves out of the car, up the steps and up to the front door. At two o’clock in the morning we had to ring the door bell. No one came. We hammered on the door. No one came. We rang both the hotel telephone number
s. Nothing. I dashed back to the car.

  “Unlock it and turn on the engine. Now sound the horn until either someone opens up or the battery dies.”

  Sam attended to this task with relish. Lights sprang on all along the rooms at the front of the hotel. Windows opened, shouts yelled. At last the front door opened and in we went.

  “Which room for the owner of that bike outside?” asked Sam nearly throttling the poor receptionist.

  I hoped we had the right hotel. If not, we would be in big trouble.

  “Room 107 at the back, first floor.”

  Sam took the stairs three at a time. I followed more slowly waiting to see if I would have to morph into my leopard persona to scare the wits out of Jonny Sauvage. A wise move. Jonny cracked the door but didn’t open it.

  “What the hell?” he asked. “Don’t you know what time it is?”

  Sam pushed. Jonny pushed back. The door wouldn’t open fully or close. Time for some feline action. I inhaled to flush my body with oxygen and shifted. In one smooth movement I dropped onto all fours. The power rippled through my muscles giving me the impetus I needed. I surged forward and launched myself at the door bringing my head up level with Jonny’s face as he peered through the crack in the doorway. Pulling my head back I took a deep breath and let out a mighty roar right in his face. He stumbled back letting go of the door and I landed on my front paws with a thump. He skittered away from me backwards on his hands and feet, all color draining from his face, tripped and fell backwards into an armchair.

  As Sam rushed past us to where Emmanuelle sprawled on the sofa, I moved in on Jonny and held him at bay while Sam saw to his friend. I expected her to scream, but she giggled. Two empty champagne bottles lay on their side on the table bearing witness to the amount she’d drunk, but she still had all her clothes on bar her shoes. Sam scooped up the tipsy, giggling girl and hurried to the door, stopping on the way to say to Jonny Sauvage, “If you ever get within ten feet of Emmanuelle again, I will set my pet on you.”

  I rumbled a roar up from my belly and blew it all over Sauvage.

  He shrank back in the chair. “Hey y’all, I don’t need to get girls drunk. I haven’t touched her. I’m no rapist.”

  I swiped a front paw inches from his face and turned to leave the room.

  As I passed through the door, Sauvage called out after me, “Of course, things would have been different in the morning when she’d sobered up.”

  He hadn’t learned his lesson. I swung round and charged right up to him. I flexed my claws and ripped his shirt off him, grazing him all the way down his chest.

  Sam called back to me. “Leave him. He’s not worth the hassle. We have to get Emmanuelle home.”

  I hooked my claws in the hem of Sauvage’s jeans and tugged him onto the floor.

  “You worthless heap of dung. Musical talent does not give you the right to take advantage of innocent girls.”

  He couldn’t hear me, of course, because he was neither magic nor supernatural, but it gave me satisfaction to tell him what I thought of him. It so nearly could have been Penzi who’d fallen victim to his shallow charm.

  When I reached the foot of the stairs, I morphed back into Felix the man. It wouldn’t pay to let anyone else see an African leopard wandering around a French hotel in the middle of the night. Emmanuelle was so drunk I didn’t think she’d remember. However, I made a note to tell Penzi about the risk of being seen.

  *

  Sam wanted to sit in the back with Emmanuelle to help if she vomited, but he had to drive. We couldn’t risk being stopped in the early hours of the morning if I drove. I had no driving permit. We propped her up as best we could and she dropped off to sleep within minutes of the car starting up.

  Halfway home she woke up and once she worked out where she was and why, she let rip.

  “How dare you two interfere in my private life? Jonny Sauvage loves me. He told me so. You’ve spoiled everything.”

  I turned round to attempt to pacify her, but she flailed at me with her fists.

  “Whoa,” I said. “We did what was best for you. You’ll realize that when you’ve calmed down and had some sleep.”

  She tried to open the door, but Sam had had the forethought to put the child locks on.

  She hammered her hands on the window. That didn’t get her anywhere, so she grabbed hold of Sam’s ears. The car swerved wildly as he batted her off with one hand. I reached across and pulled her hands down.

  “Behave yourself or I’ll have to tie you up,” I warned.

  She slumped back into the corner of the seat. “I’m eighteen. I can do what I want now. You’ve ruined my life. Jonny and I were going to be married. I’m never ever going to speak to you again, Samuel Munro,” she shouted at the back of poor Sam’s head.

  For the rest of the journey she sulked and pouted as only a French girl can.

  We dropped her off at her father’s house at three in the morning. Monsieur Bonhomie and his wife opened up the front door before we’d even switched off the engine.

  “Merci, merci mille fois, mes amis,” the portly gentleman said as Sam carried the struggling girl into the house.

  His wife threw her hands up in the air. “Et alors? She is hurt? She is damaged?”

  I caught her hands and held them for a moment to quell her anxiety.

  “Madame, she’s fine. She’s just drunk and rebellious. Give her a few days and be understanding. Sam is the one we have to worry about.”

  As we left Emmanuelle screamed, “Get out of my sight, Samuel Munro. I hate you.”

  I clapped Sam on the shoulder and gave him half a man hug. “Don’t let it get to you. She’s spirited. Doesn’t like to be brooked. She’ll feel so stupid in a couple of days’ time. She will need you then.”

  Before we drove off, I took out my trusty hipflask and gave Sam a healthy tot of Laphroaig to boost his spirits.

  Penzi and Gwinny had waited up. I’d called them on the way to say we had delivered Emmanuelle safely to her parents.

  We sat in the kitchen for a while debriefing and drinking, cocoa for the girls laced with cognac, whisky and a splash of water for the boys. What a night.

  Chapter 13

  After a late start, Audrey, Gwinny and Sam had spent the day attacking the shop while Felix and I studied Gardner’s business plans and financial statements at home and looked after Jimbo, Wilfred and Simone. By the evening we had worked out a provisional cash flow plan and made a list of the stocks to be ordered On Wednesday morning the household woke up early. We’d made a vow the night before to have The Union Jack ready for inspection by Madame Desert. I hoped to settle Audrey’s future so we could move on to the work of sorting and cataloguing the stock in the main part of the brocante. Sam had phoned Emmanuelle several times the day before, but she never answered. I advised him to give her some space for a few days to come to terms with Jonny Sauvage’s treatment of her.

  if and when Madame Desert signed the lease in Audrey’s favor.

  Today Felix and I would join the clean-up crew. I ferreted out rubber gloves for Felix and myself while Felix went up to the local shops in search of a pair of gumboots. After Madame Desert’s experience everyone working in the shop had chosen these as the safest footwear. Coming straight from the Middle Congo, Felix didn’t have any yet.

  I watched him stride out along our cobbled street. How lucky we were to have him in our lives. Steadfast, loyal and fierce when necessary. He waved to Martine as she turned the corner to drive up to our house. She stopped several times along the way, pushing the post into the letter-boxes until she reached our house where she parked up against the seawall. Into the house she bustled, an air of excitement lighting up her eyes.

  In her usual nonchalant manner, she threw our post on the table and pulled out a chair. I turned away from the window to pour her a coffee. That’s when she launched her bombshell.

  “That Jonny Sauvage is in a coma.”

  “What?” I gasped, dropping the cup and spilling
coffee all over the table. “Since when? He was fine last time Felix saw him early yesterday morning.”

  Audrey mopped up the mess and got Martine another cup while I sat down before my trembling legs gave way under me. Jonny Sauvage was a rascal, a bad boy, but I liked him for all that.

  “He’s in hospital?” I asked Martine when I got my shock under control.

  She nodded. “In a critical condition. Thought you’d like to know after what he did to Emmanuelle.”

  “You haven’t told anyone about that, have you, Martine?” I asked her.

  She shook her head. “I may be a gossip — it’s part of the job after all — but I know when to keep my mouth shut.”

  Gwinny put a cup of coffee in front of me and I drank it down, glad of the sweetness.

  “How do you know?” Gwinny asked. “Is the news reliable?”

  “Oh yes,” said Martine. “My colleague saw Sauvage being wheeled in on a gurney this morning when he was delivering the post to the hospital.”

  “Do you know anything more?” I asked worried now that a man in his prime should be in a coma. “He doesn’t take drugs as far as I know and I spent several days in his company. A spliff here or there, but that’s not enough to put him in a coma.”

  Martine reached out a plump arm and patted mine. “Penzi, I’m sorry. That’s all I know.”

  At last it had dawned on Martine that far from being jubilant to hear of Jonny Sauvage’s plight, I was concerned.

  I snatched up my phone and handed it to Gwinny, saying, “Get me the hospital please.”

  As soon as she had the number I went into the hall to make the call.

  At first they wouldn’t give out any information, but I told them I was a member of his band and I needed to know whether we would be playing that night or not. It was only a step from there to pumping them for details.