Bark Side of the Moon: A Paranormal Animal Cozy Mystery (Spellbound Hound Magic and Mystery Book 3)

by Jeannie Wycherley

  Clarissa shook her head in protest and drops of rain whipped around her. “I can’t possibly. I’ll make everything wet—”

  “I’ll fetch a towel.” Mrs Crouch reached out and pulled Clarissa inside. “And put the kettle on. You go through.”

  Clarissa dried herself on the soft pink towel that Mrs Crouch offered her and took a seat in the armchair facing the fire. Mrs Crouch had lit it this evening, perhaps to ward off the damp. The flames were well established, flickering and dancing merrily. Clarissa stared into them, remembering how the grate had been cleaned on the night of Mrs Crouch’s attack.

  Mrs Crouch took her time, returning with two mugs on a tray. “Forgive me. I took the liberty of making us some hot chocolate. I know it’s still August, but the rain today has me feeling my age.”

  Clarissa nodded. “It feels almost autumnal out there this evening.”

  “Well, it won’t be long, that’s for sure.” Mrs Crouch offered Clarissa a mug and she gratefully accepted. A swirl of squirty cream had been added to the top, and as Clarissa took a test sip, her body perked up at the joy of a sugar hit. She badly needed it.

  Clarissa stole a glance at the fire once more, and then pointedly turned her head to look at the wand strike on Mrs Crouch’s bookshelf. Mrs Crouch followed her gaze and turned the corners of her mouth up in some semblance of a smile, but one that did not reach her eyes.

  She sighed and placed her mug on the coffee table in front of her, edging it so that it sat perfectly on a coaster. “I owe you an explanation. And perhaps the time is now right. You’ve seen Old Joe?”

  Clarissa’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Well yes, but how—?”

  “My darling, I am old, but I am not without my faculties.” This time Mrs Crouch’s smile was genuine. “I’m guessing you know who has The Four Stone now?”

  Clarissa slopped her drink in shock. A dollop of cream landed on her jeans. “You know?”

  “I don’t know who has The Four Stone, no. But Old Joe had all of this worked out, right from the beginning.”

  “And he shared it with you?”

  “He had to. I recruited him.”

  Clarissa raised her eyebrows. “You are a secret agent? I knew it!”

  “You’re a bright girl.” Mrs Crouch lifted her mug in salute. “But I’m not a double agent.”

  “Ah,” Clarissa smiled sheepishly, and scooped up the blob of cream from the surface of her jeans. “I definitely thought you must be working for the other side. I just didn’t understand why Mr Kephisto, of whom everyone speaks so highly, trusted you so implicitly.”

  Mrs Crouch nodded. “Old Joe and several of the more trusted Elders at the Ministry of Witches, including myself, hatched a plan we intended to unfold in several stages. It was vital that each of us had limited knowledge of the overall plot. Only Old Joe and Witch Elder Giselle Pointing, eminent and trusted assistant to Neamh, Mother of Witches, knew the whole scenario.”

  “And Mr Kephisto?”

  “Knows nothing apart from what he has found out through his association with you.”

  Clarissa dipped a finger into the cream floating on top of her drink. “And you?”

  “Know my own part in it and no more.” Mrs Crouch shrugged. “Old Joe and I go back a long way. Way back. We had a romantic dalliance once upon a time. I was—am—very fond of him. I always will be.”

  “He asked you to take The Five Stone?”

  “He decided I was the logical choice, but also because we knew Miranda Dervish would come looking for it, and we wanted you to get involved.” She hesitated. “Until the night Old Joe died, I wasn’t aware he had kept The Six Stone himself.” She stopped, her eyes moistening. “I wish he hadn’t. I wish he hadn’t died for this.”

  Clarissa swallowed. “Me too. But he did. And now I have to honour his memory by completing the mission. Tomorrow I’m going after The Four Stone. I have a lead.”

  Mrs Crouch dabbed at her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re every bit as amazing as Old Joe said you were. He’d been keeping tabs on you for years, you know? From a distance.”

  Clarissa smiled. “I know. Grace Catesby told me as much. And now thanks to Mabel Armistead, I’ve had a chance to meet him.” She thought back to his appearance in the shaving mirror not thirty minutes previously and decided to keep that moment private. “Can you tell me what actually happened on the night of your attack?”

  Taking one more sip of hot chocolate, Mrs Crouch nodded.

  “Yes. I think I can share that with you now.” She leaned back and started to explain.

  We had a protocol, Old Joe and I.

  As I said, I didn’t know exactly what Old Joe and Witch Elder Giselle Pointing’s plan for entrapping Miranda Dervish was. It was way above my level. I’d been a sleeping agent for decades by then. I just knew that I’d been asked to recruit a local witch—who turned out to be Old Joe—who had to have enough influence and knowledge of the south-west region in order to become an excellent asset.

  And he certainly was.

  In secret talks with the various agencies at the Ministry of Witches, it must have quickly become clear to them that here was a man of integrity who would do everything in his power to stop Miranda Dervish gaining access to an unlimited source of power.

  I didn’t know that he would have to sacrifice himself, and if I had known that I would probably have baulked at the idea of recruiting him.

  Old Joe gave me a package to put under my tree last Christmas, and he instructed me not to open it except in the event of his death. At the time his words sent a shiver right through me, but I didn’t anticipate his death would come so quickly.

  That cold night in December when I heard the crunch from the other side of the wall, I had no idea. I banged on the front door and there was a woman in there making a commotion, claiming Toby had bitten her. I called the police and they came, and in the subsequent furore when Old Joe’s body was found, the woman disappeared.

  I curse myself now. If I’d known it was her, maybe I’d have broken my oath and cast a death hex.

  They took Toby away. I came home, shaken and broken-hearted, and then I remembered the package Old Joe had given me.

  Inside were The Five Stone and several letters, one of them leaving me instructions.

  I hid the stone in the kitchen—somewhere obvious, as Old Joe had suggested—and then I had to sit back and wait. In the letter, Old Joe told me it would be like brewing the perfect bottle of Sloe gin. It takes time.

  I had to get a letter to you. I dropped it on your desk at the Sun Valley Tribune when you were out on a job one day, and that set in motion the wheels that eventually brought you to Old Joe’s house. I think Old Joe gambled on Toby freeing himself from that awful kennels, and not a day went by that I didn’t berate myself for not getting him out of there myself, but at last there you both were, in the right place… and I had to put the second part of the plan into action.

  He wanted you to be emotionally engaged. Perhaps he imagined you wouldn’t have enough of a connection with him to want to pursue Miranda and bring her to justice after his death. By making friends with me you formed a secondary attachment and I enacted this second stage at the right time.

  Miranda Dervish never tracked down The Five Stone because she was never here.

  I staged that whole evening by myself.

  The wand strike on the bookcase—that was simple enough—although I was mighty aggrieved about the damage it did to my woodwork! The mini-earthquake is a relatively simple spell and although it trashed parts of my kitchen, that’s easy enough to put right.

  I burned Old Joe’s letter to me in the grate in here, and as you know I made a mistake. I didn’t clear the evidence away.

  You and Toby turned up far more quickly than I imagined you would. I was in the bedroom, just about to stage an attack up there, when I heard you come into the house. Perhaps it’s fortunate that Toby, with his more sensitive hearing, ran away otherwise he might have heard me movin
g around in a panic. Bless him! In any case, I realised I hadn’t cleaned up the grate and when you didn’t leave me enough time, I had to think quickly.

  I’d pre-prepared a toxic capsule that would put me into a temporary coma. I intended you to find me that way, not semi-conscious as you did. Instead, I had to hide the capsule under my tongue and then wait for you to find me, while faking my imminent demise.

  It wasn’t as difficult to do as you might think. I remember being very cold. As you get old, like me, you don’t retain heat well, and I’d been lying on the bedroom floor in my nightshirt since you’d entered the living room. Long enough to be chilled to the bone.

  You found me and called for help. Once the ambulance and police came, and people were distracted, I did a quick secret service house clean spell as the paramedics were carrying / carried me downstairs on the stretcher. It’s a wonderful hex. Something I learned back in the early days. You can rid an entire house of evidence in a milli-second.

  I’ll teach it to you someday.

  Then, when I was sure you wouldn’t discover the whole incident had been staged, I crushed the capsule between my teeth and entrusted my long-term future to your safekeeping.

  Clarissa rocked back in her seat. It explained so much. Except—

  “Toby swore he could smell The Pointy Woman as we approached your door.”

  Mrs Crouch frowned. “But he can’t have. She was never here.”

  Clarissa scrunched her face up. “That’s so weird. He was absolutely adamant. He wouldn’t enter the house.”

  The two women regarded each other in bewilderment. Mrs Crouch shook her head, ever so slightly. “I promise you, that’s just not possible. Unless…”

  Clarissa grimaced and finished off the older woman’s train of thought. “Unless… The Pointy Woman had been sniffing around here. Casing the joint, so to speak.”

  Mrs Crouch shuddered, her face turning a shade paler. “That doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Clarissa agreed, cocking her head, thinking of Miranda Dervish scuttling around in the shadows of Chamberlain Drive, or observing her as she walked with Toby around the park.

  That reminded her. “What about the Special Agent I was supposed to meet in the park?”

  “I sent that, acting on a directive I’d received. But I was expressly instructed not to show up to any meeting.”

  “And what about Sue Mitchelmore’s address? Toby thought he could smell someone from the city on that, definitely not you.”

  Mrs Crouch smiled. “The person who delivered that one is a ghost.”

  “A ghost?”

  “Deep, deep cover. I can’t tell you about him.” Mrs Crouch made a zipping gesture across her mouth. “He moves like lightning and haunts the shadows.”

  “But he’s not a real ghost?” Clarissa asked.

  “No.” Mrs Crouch took a sip of her hot chocolate.

  Clarissa blinked, processing all Mrs Crouch had told her. “And Dom? Dominic Lavery? The chaos wizard I did meet in the park?”

  “Nothing to do with us. Purely an accident.”

  “Wow.” Goosebumps prickled on Clarissa’s arms. “An incredible quirk of fate.”

  “Most likely pre-ordained in some way.” Mrs Crouch mulled that over. “Old Joe certainly knew a lot of what would occur.”

  He set things up to happen in certain ways, thought Clarissa. Including the hexing of Toby.

  “You know, when Old Joe bought the house next door all those years ago, I never imagined it would all turn out like this,” Mrs Crouch said. Her chin drooped to her chest; the story had taken the last of her available energy. “He was a wonderful friend and a kind, compassionate man who would do anything for anybody.”

  Clarissa nodded, her voice soft. “He was incredibly special.”

  Mrs Crouch straightened up, her eyes bleak. “Go and get his killer, Clarissa. Make sure she can never hurt anyone else.”

  Clarissa drained her hot chocolate and replaced her mug on the coffee table. The fire and the drink had combined to make her too warm. She stood, her face flushed, and moved over to embrace Mrs Crouch.

  “Don’t you worry. I’ll do everything in my power to end her reign of terror.”

  “I know you will. But I can’t help worrying,” Mrs Crouch said. “You’re so young and inexperienced, and you’re just one witch… she’ll take advantage of that.”

  “She will, but I have something she doesn’t. I have a Spellbound Hound on my side.”

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  They had clearly woken Dom up. Pink creases in his cheek were evidence of where his face had been recently pressed against the edge of a pillow, while his hair and beard had the spiky unkempt look of someone who hadn’t yet had time to venture anywhere near a comb.

  “It’s early, I’ll give you that!” Clarissa flashed her brightest smile at him. It had stopped raining some time before dawn, but the storm had left the air feeling fresher and the grass in the fields surrounding Honeystick Farm revitalised. The sun had decided to shine again as it began its climb above the horizon.

  Or it would, anyway.

  “Early? The blooming cockerels aren’t even awake yet!” Dom adjusted his stripy pyjama bottoms—sunshine yellow and peppermint green this morning—which had started to travel south.

  “I can wake them up for you if you like?” Toby looked around hopefully.

  “No, no!” Dom waved an irritable hand at them both. “What is it you two—” he glanced at the car and spotted Catesby sitting in the back seat, “three—want, anyway?”

  “Could we make you a coffee?” Clarissa turned around and waved at Catesby, who pulled herself out of the car and moved, stiffly, towards them. “This is my friend, Grace Catesby.”

  Toby wagged his tail in excitement. “We rescued her from the dastardly clutches of The Pointy Woman—”

  “Miranda Dervish, he means,” Clarissa said.

  “We rescued her yesterday and today we’re finally going to track down The Pointy Woman and finish her off!”

  “I’m not entirely sure we’re going to do that, Toby.” Clarissa glanced down at the dog in alarm. She didn’t think she had it in her to actually kill anyone.

  “Well, I am.” Toby shrugged and squeezed himself between Dom’s legs and into the hallway. “I’ve finished your magick book, Dom,” he called back as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Have you got another one?”

  “Er… that’s good.” Dom didn’t quite know where to put himself. He stared after Toby then looked back at Clarissa questioningly, before settling on smiling in confusion as Catesby joined them at the door. “I… ah… pleased to meet you.”

  “And you.” Catesby shook his hand. “Clarissa has been telling me all about you on the way over here. I’d love to know more.” She winked at Clarissa, “but possibly not today. We have a lot on.”

  “About the coffee?” Clarissa interjected. “Would you mind? We had an early start.”

  “An early start?” Dom grumbled, backing away from the door to allow the women access. “It hasn’t started yet. Not as far as I’m concerned.” They followed him into the kitchen, where Toby was prodding an inert Star. Star lifted her head, opened one eye, gazed at Toby sleepily, and growled.

  “My thoughts exactly, Star!” Dom started to fill the kettle. “So, can someone please explain to me what you’re doing here at this unseemly hour?”

  Clarissa leaned against one of the kitchen cabinets and folded her arms. “You remember when I was here last, I asked you about The Four Stone and Miranda Dervish?”

  “Mmm. And I said—”

  “I know. I know. I heard you.” She waved one hand at Dom. “Well, it turns out that we were closer than we might have imagined. Winifred has The Four Stone.”

  Dom stopped what he was doing and stared at Clarissa in surprise. “Auntie Winifred? Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely certain. Apparently Winifred and Old Joe, my grandfather, were great f
riends.” Clarissa laughed at Dom’s raised eyebrows. “I know! Who knew? Well, anyway, I urgently need to speak to her.” Clarissa gestured towards Dom’s office. “So, can you get her on the phone? Or on Skype again? It’s critical.”

  Dom snorted. “Well I’d love to, but we’ve just missed a window of opportunity. I spoke to her only yesterday and she was in Nepal awaiting a flight. She was heading away for a little holiday.”

  “Okay.” A minor setback, thought Clarissa. “We’ll just wait for her to land and get settled in her hotel.”

  “Hmm. That’s kind of a problem. She’s trekking.”

  “Trekking?” Clarissa repeated. “Okay.”

  “Around goat trails in Outer Mongolia.”

  Clarissa groaned and clamped a hand to her forehead.

  “They have mobile phones out there, though, don’t they?” Catesby asked, rescuing the kettle as it began to boil.

  “They have mobiles, but they rarely have a signal,” Dom said, and grimaced. “Sorry.” He looked around at the defeated faces in the room. “Would now be a good time to offer everyone toast?”

  They sat in Dom’s front room. Star, Catesby, Toby and Dom happily polished off several rounds of toast, butter and jam but Clarissa only pushed hers around on the plate.

  “I mean, you’re absolutely welcome to go through all her stuff in the lean-to,” Dom offered. “But I should warn you, it’s like a warehouse in there. There are masses and masses of trunks and boxes and goodness only knows what. She pretty much just dumped everything before she went off on her travels.”

  “Lots of kit, eh?” Catesby asked.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Dom confirmed.

  Clarissa zoned out their voices, struggling to allow herself space to think. Giving The Four Stone to Winifred Breazeazy had been a genius solution to Old Joe’s problem, particularly if she was carrying it around the world. The Pointy Woman would struggle to track her down. Clarissa wondered whether this was partly why Winifred kept moving, travelling to such outlandish places. Had Old Joe briefed her and asked her to stay well out of the way of Miranda’s probing greed?