Witches' Diaries

by Morgana Best

  Lucas stepped forward. “Nothing. The dinner hadn’t started yet, but Moxie Maisie told us he had consumed chocolate fudge brownies in his cottage just before he came.”

  “Why would he eat brownies just before dinner?” Detective Mason asked.

  “He always did,” Demelza and Colonel Mustard said in unison.

  Oakes turned to Lucas. “Lucas, would you accompany me to the cottage? Detective Mason will stay here.”

  The two of them slipped out of the living room. I figured Lucas would tell the detective about the lead and Cluedo theory. Even if the detective thought it somewhat tenuous, at least it would prompt them to test for lead.

  “When Detective Oakes returns, we will need to question you all, one by one,” he said. “It’s going to be a long night.”

  Aunt Maude walked over to us. “Can you take a turn comforting Demelza please, Dorothy?” she asked.

  Aunt Dorothy nodded and headed for Demelza.

  “Aunt Maude, do you have your phone?” I asked her.

  “Sure.” She pulled her phone out of her lion’s mane and handed it to me. “Who are you going to call?”

  “Nobody. I’m going to search lead poisoning. Aunt Dorothy thinks Eli was poisoned with lead.”

  Aunt Maude nodded solemnly. “Ah, yes, of course. The lead pipe.”

  I shrugged. After a few minutes, I said, “Aha! Lead acetate is indeed a white powder, and it can kill quickly. There’s an instance of a murder victim who died soon after eating a sandwich in which lead acetate had been placed. There are lots of other websites saying it can kill slowly or quickly, depending on the dose.”

  “Maybe the murder was poisoning him slowly, over time, and wanted to finish him off tonight,” Aunt Maude said.

  “Maybe. Where would somebody get it?

  Aunt Maude took her phone back. “Oh, here’s a supplier in Australia, but there’s a minimum order of twenty-five kilograms.”

  “That’s overkill, no pun intended,” I said.

  Aunt Maude looked up. “This site will sell it in small amounts, but you’ll never guess! I found small amounts for sale on eBay!”

  “What is it used for, apart from poisoning people, I mean?”

  Aunt Maude checked her phone again. “It’s used in textile dyeing, some specialist cooper paint tints, and insecticides. It was once used in hair dye. Oh, and it says it tastes sweet.”

  I shook my head. “Poor Eli! Who would do such a thing?”

  Aunt Maude raised her eyebrows at me. “I did suspect Eli, but now he’s gone,” she said. “That means there is somebody in this room who has killed twice.”

  I shuddered.

  She pushed on. “So then, it’s Colonel Mustard, Demelza, Moxie Maisie, or Finn. And whoever it is could strike again at any moment.”

  Chapter 16

  “We’ll need to eat dinner anyway,” Aunt Maude said. “Otherwise, we’ll all starve to death.”

  “Poor choice of words, Maude.” Aunt Agnes shook her head. “Poor choice of words.”

  “Aunt Maude is right,” I said. “We cannot let all that food go to waste, and eating is a necessity, not a luxury.”

  Aunt Agnes pursed her lips. “You’re right, Valkyrie. We’ll have to go ahead with the dinner, although it’s going to be a rather sombre occasion.”

  “I’m worried about your safety, Pepper,” Lucas said. “Who knows where this murder spree will end?”

  “I had hoped the police would have solved it by now,” Aunt Agnes admitted, “but we will need to take it up a notch. Lucas, did you hear Eli refer to us all as awful old witches?”

  Lucas nodded.

  She pushed on. “That is a clue.”

  Lucas appeared perplexed. “A clue to what?”

  “He didn’t call us hags, did he? Maybe he knew we are witches. Vampires or witches.”

  “That’s just a figure of speech,” Lucas said.

  Aunt Agnes waved her finger at him. “Aha, but what if it isn’t? What if he actually knew that we’re vampires? We can’t discount that, you know. And don’t forget the witch label on all of Moxie Maisie’s diaries.”

  Lucas appeared to be thinking it over. “Yes, you could be right.”

  “So, who is our main suspect?” Aunt Agnes asked me.

  We were all in the kitchen while the detectives were questioning the boarders in the living room. All of us, that is, except Aunt Maude, who was in the secret room watching the proceedings.

  “I actually rather thought the murderer was Eli, until he died,” Aunt Dorothy admitted. “That doesn’t leave many people. Surely, that should help us with the investigation.”

  “Then let’s talk it through,” Aunt Agnes said. “Who had a motive to kill Eli?”

  “Moxie Maisie didn’t seem to like him much,” I said, “although if not liking somebody much was a motive for murder, there would be many more murders in the world.”

  Aunt Agnes sipped from her goblet of Witches’ Brew. “Quite so, quite so.”

  “And Moxie Maisie alerted us to the chocolate fudge brownies,” I added.

  “But maybe she’s the murderer, and she had her own reasons for doing that,” Aunt Agnes said.

  Aunt Dorothy looked surprised. “Such as?”

  Aunt Agnes shrugged. “I don’t have a clue, to be honest, but it doesn’t mean she didn’t have motives of her own. Now, that only leaves Demelza, Finn, and Colonel Mustard.”

  “My money is on Colonel Mustard,” I said. “After all, he was found standing over Priscilla’s body.” Before anybody could protest that he didn’t have an apparent motive, I quickly added, “Although I have no idea as to what his motive could be.”

  “We don’t have a motive for anybody,” Lucas pointed out, “that is, except for Priscilla’s murder, because Moxie Maisie had the most to gain.”

  “And Demelza allegedly thought she would gain from that inheritance as well,” I pointed out.

  Aunt Agnes agreed with me. “And Demelza no doubt had a grudge against Eli, simply because he was her ex-husband.” She threw up her hands to the ceiling. “Who doesn’t have a grudge against all their ex-husbands?”

  Aunt Dorothy murmured in agreement.

  “But what about Finn?” I asked them.

  “He also benefits from Priscilla’s inheritance because he’s marrying Moxie Maisie,” Lucas said. “And maybe his motive to murder Eli was because both Demelza and Eli disapproved of his relationship with Moxie Maisie.”

  I nodded. “And I’m sure they disapprove even more so now because she’s going to receive that huge inheritance.”

  “But then why didn’t Finn murder Demelza as well?” Aunt Dorothy asked.

  Lucas’s expression was grim. “Maybe Demelza is next on his list.”

  My head was spinning. “This is all so confusing. Moxie Maisie had the most to gain from Priscilla’s death, but so did Finn, and also Demelza, who was expecting to gain something from the inheritance.”

  Lucas interrupted me. “If what Moxie Maisie said was true.”

  I nodded. “Yes, if Moxie Maisie was telling the truth about Demelza wanting money from the inheritance,” I said. “Colonel Mustard seems to have the least to gain.”

  Aunt Agnes waved her finger at me. “That is, if the motive was money. Maybe it was revenge because Priscilla was horrible to him.”

  “If the motive was revenge, then Demelza had the best motive,” I pointed out.

  Aunt Maude returned to the room, yawning widely. “Can somebody else take a turn? I’m absolutely starving, and it’s so boring in there.”

  “Did you hear anything of interest?” Lucas asked her.

  She shook her head. “No, but Detective Oakes said he will come back tomorrow to question them individually. He’s wasting his time, if you ask me.”

  “We didn’t ask you,” Aunt Agnes said tersely.

  Aunt Maude ignored her. “I think they’re about to finish, anyway. What’s happening with the dinner?”

  “We decided to go ahead w
ith it,” I told her. “Even though people might not feel like eating much, it will be better than nothing.”

  “The forensics team took away the body.”

  Aunt Agnes nodded. “Yes, Maude, we heard them.”

  Detective Oakes poked his head around the door. “I’ve finished with them,” he said. “They’re all yours. I’ll be back tomorrow to question them again.” He frowned before continuing. “I don’t think it’s safe for the guests to return to their cottages for the night. Do you have enough rooms in the manor?”

  “What are you suggesting?” Lucas asked him. “Do you suggest the guests should stay here under the one roof in the manor tonight?”

  Oates nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m proposing.”

  “But one of them is a murderer,” Lucas said. “That would hardly be safe for Pepper or the Jasper sisters or Breena either.”

  “I certainly do take your point,” Detective Oakes said, “but if one of them is the murderer, then there are three innocent people. I’d hate for something to happen to one of the innocent people.”

  “Detective Oakes is right,” Aunt Agnes said. “We do have enough room here, and all the bedroom doors can be securely locked. It is certainly much harder to get access to a bedroom in the manor than it would be to gain access to one of the cottages.”

  “Then, with your permission, I’ll tell them now that I advise them to stay here the night,” Detective Oakes said. “I will also tell them not to open the door to anybody, no matter how much they trust that person.”

  Aunt Agnes stood up. “I’ll go with you.” She looked over her shoulder and added, “Then I’ll bring the boarders back to the dining room. Would you get everything ready? And please be alert—there’s a poisoner in our midst, so don’t leave any of the food unattended, and watch what you eat.”

  “I think I’ve just lost my appetite,” Aunt Maude said.

  “Well, I haven’t lost mine.” Aunt Dorothy stood too. “Let’s get this food on the table!”

  The roast vegetables did look a little worse for wear, but the rest of the food simply needed a quick heat in the microwave.

  The storm had abated, and the electricity had stayed on. We decided it would be in poor taste to light the candles in the dining room. Soon, the table was laden with large platters of macaroni cheese, Bolognese risotto, Confit salmon with coriander and mint chutney, Lebanese kofte, and platters of steaming garlic bread.

  “I had better go and get the spare bedrooms ready.” I made to leave the room, but Lucas caught my arm.

  “No, it’s not safe. I think we should all camp in the living room tonight. We can bolt the door. That’s the only way I’ll rest, if I know you’re safe, Pepper.”

  “But the guests will stay in the spare rooms?” Aunt Dorothy asked.

  Lucas hurried to reassure her. “Yes, of course. They can stay in the spare rooms, and we will stay in the living room. There are one or two Victorian chaises in there, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “I’ll still have to get the spare rooms upstairs ready,” I said.

  “I’ll pop upstairs and do it,” Aunt Maude said. “The beds are already made. I’ll just put out some towels.”

  Nanoseconds after Aunt Maude returned from tending to the spare rooms, Moxie Maisie burst in, followed closely by Demelza, Finn, and Colonel Mustard.

  Moxie Maisie surveyed the scene before her. “I’m glad you didn’t do anything fancy, after all.”

  “The nerve of her!” Aunt Dorothy muttered.

  Five silver candelabras sat on the table, although the tall, white candles were not lit. The table was set with antique silver, and the dinner service was French Limoges, gilt trimmed. Crystal goblets were dotted at intervals.

  “You are certainly full of charm this evening,” Demelza said to her daughter. “Please try not to be so rude to our hosts.”

  “Please try not to murder any more people,” Moxie Maisie countered.

  Demelza gasped.

  “Please take your seats. I know it has been a stressful evening, but let’s try to avoid any unpleasantness over dinner.” Lucas’s tone was firm. Moxie Maisie shot him a look but sat down and remained silent.

  “The guests have agreed to stay here for the night,” Aunt Agnes told us.

  “Yes, the detective told us to lock ourselves in our rooms and not open the door for anybody,” Demelza said.

  She appeared to be on the point of tears. I thought about the case. It was hard to believe that one of them could be the murderer. I planted my palm on my forehead.

  “What is it?” Aunt Agnes asked me.

  “Um, nothing,” I lied. In fact, I had only just now remembered that Moxie Maisie and Finn had been kissing on the garden seat when Priscilla had been murdered. That meant the only two remaining suspects were Colonel Mustard and Demelza, at least in the matter of Priscilla’s death.

  Could it be Demelza? Moxie Maisie certainly seemed to think so, and her diaries pointed to Demelza.

  “Is there any brandy?” Colonel Mustard asked.

  I gave a little jump. Could it be Colonel Mustard? Was he drinking due to guilt over murdering people? He certainly seemed more shaken than usual tonight, although Eli’s death could be the simple explanation.

  So, who was the murderer? Demelza or Colonel Mustard? And did the murderer plan to kill again?

  Chapter 17

  Thunder cracked, and the manor shook.

  “I thought the storm had passed,” I said.

  Nobody responded. Colonel Mustard was drinking brandy, and the rest of us were drinking hot chocolate. The police had already taken off into the pelting rain, their car vanishing into the ominous darkness, leaving us to ourselves.

  “I’m glad we’re not sleeping in the cottages tonight,” Colonel Mustard said, his teeth chattering. I couldn’t blame him. Even if Eli had not been murdered, I doubt anyone would have wanted to stay in a cottage during this weather event.

  “We have enough rooms for everyone,” Aunt Agnes said. “I’ll just pop upstairs and check the bedrooms.”

  “I’ve already done them, Agnes,” Aunt Maude protested.

  “I just want to check.”

  “Take a torch,” Lucas said. “In case the power goes out again.”

  “Do we have a torch?” Aunt Maude asked him.

  “I brought over an emergency box months ago,” Lucas said. “I left it right here, under the kitchen sink. Did no one notice?”

  No. No one had noticed the box beneath the sink. It was a miracle we’d solved as many murders as we had solved—and a disaster that we were forced to solve as many murders as we had solved. I felt a rush of warmth and gratitude towards Lucas, who fished three torches, an armful of candles, and matches out of the box.

  Aunt Agnes took off with the torch while Lucas placed the candles all around the kitchen and lit them, so that half the room was in light and half the room was in shadows. I wondered why he didn’t simply light the candelabras but figured he considered it inappropriate.

  Then he approached me with a smile and placed a warm hand on the small of my back. I did not know what I would have done without Lucas that night, as it was his steady and thoughtful presence that kept me sane.

  Soon, Aunt Agnes returned, but no one felt like retiring to bed quite yet.

  The windows rattled; the wind blew. Aunt Maude clung to Aunt Dorothy, and Aunt Dorothy clung to Aunt Agnes. Even Colonel Mustard, who seemed the type to hide his fears, let his eyes dart around the room, as if waiting for someone to spring from the shadows and attack him.

  “Well,” Moxie Maisie said at last. “No point sitting around here shivering. I might as well try to get some sleep. I suppose there are funeral arrangements to be made for the both of them sooner or later, and that will take energy.”

  Demelza nodded wearily. “Why don’t we sleep in the same room tonight?” she asked her daughter.

  Moxie Maisie turned up her nose. “Mother! The police said we all have to sleep in separate r
ooms and lock the doors, and not open them to anybody, even if that person is known to us!” Her voice rose to a high pitch.

  “Are you sleeping in your cottage tonight?” Lucas asked Finn. My eyes nearly rolled out of my head. For some reason, Finn brought out the jealously in Lucas. Not that I minded. I mean, I really didn’t mind, but there was a time and a place to be jealous, and that time and place was not in the manor, hours after a man had been murdered.

  “Of course, I’m not sleeping in the cottage. Ms Jasper said there was room here in the manor for all of us, so in the manor, I intend to stay.”

  “Not scared, are you, boy?” Colonel Mustard said. He boomed with laughter that was louder than the thunder.

  “Of course not,” Finn said. He seemed quite put out.

  “Let’s get your things,” Lucas said to me. All of a sudden, he picked me up and carried me to my room.

  “Lucas,” I sputtered. I was trying not to laugh, because I knew laughter would only encourage his insanity, and I really wanted him sane that night. Where had the pragmatic man I loved gone, I wondered as he tossed me onto the bed. “You’re acting silly.”

  Lucas packed my things—a toothbrush, toothpaste, and my pyjamas—and beamed down at me as I lay on the bed. “It will be fun. It will be like camping.”

  “I hate camping.”

  Five minutes later, Lucas and I were in the living room, huddling beneath some blankets that we’d found in a cupboard. Aunt Agnes, Aunt Maude, and Aunt Dorothy were arguing over who should have the Victorian chaises and who would miss out.

  “I have five sleeping bags,” Lucas pointed out. Finally, Aunt Agnes decided to let the other two aunts have the chaises, and she would have a sleeping bag. Breena was already asleep in front of the fire.

  Before I knew it, it was two in the morning, and the storm had faded. Neither Lucas nor I had slept. In fact, I lay in the sleeping bag in a terrible limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness, while Lucas stood by the window, my watchdog.

  I had just about fallen asleep when an ear-splitting scream snapped me to full consciousness. I struggled to get out of the sleeping bag.