Broomed For Success

by Morgana Best

  I could see Oleander in the seat next to me was trying not to giggle. “Sure,” I said. “My lips are sealed.” I took one hand off the steering well long enough to make a zipping motion across my mouth. “Where will we get coffee? Will anything be open on a Sunday morning?”

  “It’s a tourist town,” Athanasius said. “Everything will be open on a Sunday morning. There’s plenty of coffee along Gallery Walk.”

  As we drove along Gallery Walk, I saw to my disappointment that every parking spot was taken. “Gosh, looks like it will be a long walk back to the nearest coffee shop,” I said with dismay. “And I wanted to look in that shop to the left. It looks like it has witch supplies.”

  “It does, and the shop next to it sells good quality Palo Santo sticks for smudging,” Athanasius said. “Anyway, I know a parking spot where the tourists don’t go. Take a left at the next roundabout and then immediately turn left into a little parking area behind the shops on the corner.”

  “You’re on a roll today,” Oleander said with appreciation.

  As soon as I parked the car, Athanasius said, “Let’s just get takeaway coffee now, and then we can come back here and sit down and have lunch after we question Laurence Pattinson-Smythe.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Usual coffees?”

  When they both answered in the affirmative, I walked the short distance to the nearest café.

  When I got back, Oleander was flipping through her phone. “He’s not far from here, so we had better drink our coffee before we go in search of him.”

  I didn’t need telling twice. I drank my coffee fairly quickly, despite it being hot, and I pulled back out onto the road. Athanasius was navigating from the back seat. “He lives on Cliff Street,” he said. “Turn left and keep going to the end of this road.”

  “Where do I go after the end of the road?” I asked him.

  “The road swings to the left. I’ll direct you as you get closer.”

  As we came over the hill, Oleander and I both gasped. Ahead of us was a beautiful view of the tall buildings of Surfers Paradise with the sparkling blue ocean beyond. “I’d love to live here with a view like this,” I said. “Imagine looking out over this every day.”

  “Turn right now,” Athanasius said from the back seat.

  I parked outside the house, which I noted was on the cliff side in the aptly named Cliff Street. “I wonder if he spent his ill gotten gains on that house?”

  “Looks like it to me,” Oleander said. “Is there some law against spending your ill gotten gains?”

  Athanasius opened the car door. “From my research, he was a bookkeeper, so he probably found a way to make it look legitimate. Anyway, let’s go. The sooner we solve this murder, the sooner Goldie will be off the hook. And remember, leave the talking to me.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me,” I said.

  As we walked to the door, I was hit with the sudden concern that Laurence wouldn’t be home. It was a Sunday morning, so maybe he was in church. If he wasn’t there, I figured we could have lunch in Gallery Walk and come back later. I hoped he wasn’t visiting a relative in another state.

  Athanasius knocked loudly. When there was no response, he knocked again. Oleander leant across him and pressed a button. A loud noise reverberated through the door.

  A female voice called out to us. “Are you looking for Laurence?”

  We all spun around to see a woman’s head sticking through the window in the house next door. She was wearing a scowl.

  “Yes, we are,” Athanasius said. “Is he at home?”

  “He’s a bit deaf, so you need to press the buzzer a few times,” she said. “It lights up. When he sees it, he knows to answer the door.”

  I thanked her and was turning back when she added, “He doesn’t like to answer the door. He never answers the door when Woolworths delivers his groceries. And I don’t think he pays for the gas cylinders either, because they just deliver them and leave and I never see any cash exchange hands.”

  “You pay for gas cylinders online these days,” I said.

  She shot me a nasty look. “I can assure you, he doesn’t pick up any dog poop. I mean, he doesn’t even pick up the dog poop before the gardener comes. I’ve mentioned it to him many a time, but he won’t do it.”

  She looked at us expecting a response. I said, “Imagine that.”

  The woman continued to complain. “He has leaves in his gutters too,” she said. “I saw a leaf poking out of his gutter. I took a photo of it and emailed it to him, but he didn’t respond. You think he’d be grateful to know there was a leaf in his gutter, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I suppose you would.” I nodded to Oleander to press the buzzer so we could get away from the woman.

  “But at least he’s not as bad as that other dreadful neighbour of mine. See that bright light he has out the front? It keeps me awake at night. Still, I don’t like to complain.”

  You could have fooled me, I thought. Aloud I said, “What bright light is that?”

  “It’s bright at night, but surely you can see it from here?”

  I looked at the adjoining house to see a particularly artistic and pretty light in the shape of an apple.

  “They’re witches,” she said. “It’s in the shape of a pumpkin so it’s probably evil.”

  I gritted my teeth. “What makes you think that?”

  “Pumpkins are evil, don’t you see? They depict Halloween, and everybody knows Halloween is a tool of the devil.”

  I leant across Oleander and kept my finger on the buzzer.

  Thankfully, an elderly man answered the door. I knew he was in his eighties, but he looked much younger. “Laurence Pattinson-Smythe?” Athanasius said.

  Laurence opened the fly screen door. “Yes?”

  “I’m Athanasius Chadwicke-Pryor and these are my friends, Oleander Blanch and Goldie Bloom. We’re from the East Bucklebury Goodwill Society, and I’m afraid I have some sad news for you. May we come in?” Athanasius enunciated every word loudly and clearly.

  “Just a minute, I’ll put my hearing aids in.” The man disappeared, only to return a few minutes later. “Could you repeat what you said?”

  Athanasius did so. The man stepped back from the door. “Please come in.”

  He showed us into the living room. I was at once distracted by the view of Surfers Paradise and the ocean through large windows. “It’s a beautiful view you have,” I said loudly.

  “You don’t need to shout,” he said. “It hurts my ears.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “No thanks, we’ve all had coffee recently,” Athanasius said. He cut straight to the point. “Laurence, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your former friend, Angus Burns, passed away the night before last.”

  Laurence looked shocked. “Oh no, not Angus! That’s terrible.”

  “Were you close?” Athanasius asked him.

  Laurence shook his head. “No, not really.” He shook his head again. “Not really. I lost touch with them all over the years. Was it a long illness?”

  “He was murdered,” Athanasius said. “Shot. He was shot in the house of Doug Greer, the son of Ben Parrish. Ben changed his name from Parrish to Greer years ago.”

  “Ben Parrish? How is he doing?”

  The three of us exchanged glances. “I’m afraid he passed away recently,” Athanasius told him.

  Laurence nodded. An elderly Jack Russell terrier appeared and jumped on his lap. The dog ignored us. “Oh yes, of course he died. He died without telling his son where the gold was. That’s a shame, you know. Ben always said he was keeping his gold for his son to spend after his death. I guess he didn’t think he’d go so quickly. It just goes to show, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I said, although I didn’t have a clue what he meant.

  “Angus stole our gold.”

  We all gasped. Laurence continued to nod. “Yes, he was the youngest. Everyone thought he was the most trustwor
thy, and we knew the police were about to search our homes. We all had long criminal records, but Angus didn’t. We all gave most of our gold bars to him.” He broke into a wide smile. “Except for me. I didn’t quite trust him. So I gave him half what the others gave him. Of course, we all told the police we gave him all our gold. So he was murdered, you say?”

  “He was shot,” Athanasius added.

  Laurence looked puzzled. “You say he died in Ben Parrish’s house?”

  “Yes,” Athanasius said. “Ben Parrish changed his name to Greer, and his son, Doug Greer, recently put the house up for sale. We haven’t figured out the connection yet, but somehow Angus Burns must have discovered the address.”

  “Oh yes. It must have been the article in the paper,” Laurence said, smiling and nodding as he spoke.

  “In the paper?” the three of us said in unison.

  He continued to nod. “It was in one of those big Sydney papers. I get three of them so I can’t remember which one it was, but there was an article on some town going ahead. Where do you say you’re from again?”

  “East Bucklebury,” I supplied.

  He pointed at me. “That’s the one! There was an article on it being a sleepy old town that didn’t even have sewerage until recently, but now developers are buying it up and selling plots of land for a lot of money, despite the fact there are mosquitoes and midgies.”

  How did I not know about that article? “How long ago was this article?” I asked him.

  “A week or so ago,” he said. “It had a photo of Ben Parrish’s house at East whatever-you-said. He was on a horse wearing one of those big stock saddles and he was holding a rifle. You know, one of those historical photos from back in the day.”

  “And you recognised the man in the photo as Ben Parrish?” Athanasius asked him.

  “Of course I did,” he said. “Besides, his name was in the caption, and the article said the house belonged to Ben Parrish from the Great Bank Robbery of 1955 gang.”

  I couldn’t have been more pleased. That was the link. The murderer had seen the paper and recognised Ben Parrish. It was after the time I had listed the property. Anyone could have gone to a real estate sales site, searched East Bucklebury, and easily discovered the same house for sale. The murderer would know where to go.

  Laurence was still talking. “The article said that Ben took ill suddenly and his son didn’t make it to his bedside in time. Ben never told his son where he hid all his gold. Isn’t that a shame? He kept that gold for all these years, wanting his son to have it after he died.”

  We all nodded and exchanged glances.

  There was only one problem. Laurence Pattinson-Smythe was the last surviving member of the gang. So who else would recognise Ben Parrish’s name and want to murder Angus Burns?

  Chapter 7

  As soon as I dropped Oleander and Athanasius back at the retirement home, I decided I should take advantage of my Sunday afternoon off by doing some spells. I also needed to do a fast money luck spell, but for now, not being arrested was my number one priority.

  I pulled the wick through the first black candle before turning it upside down. Under it, I had written the name, ‘Detective Rick Power,’ on a small piece of unlined paper. No, I wasn’t going to do away with him or anything else like that, but I was about to do the separation vinegar bottle spell. This would keep him away from me.

  I didn’t know the internal affairs investigator’s name, so I wrote the words, ‘Internal affairs investigator in East Bucklebury’ on another piece of paper. I pulled the wick through the second black candle and turned it upside down.

  Before I lit the candles, I opened the doors of my altar room a little and peeked out. To my relief, Persnickle was lying on his wombat bed watching yet another episode of Starsky and Hutch. I hoped they would remake the series so there would be more material, but for now, Persnickle didn’t seem to mind watching repeats.

  I closed the door quietly and turned back to my spell. Under the candles I had placed black pepper, red pepper, sulphur, and salt. If this had been a binding work, I would have added small mirrors and been careful not to look in them, but as this was a separation spell, I didn’t need them.

  I lit the candles and then left the room. There was nothing else I could do until they had burnt down.

  I decided to pour myself a glass of wine and I needed to take a cleansing bath after I finished the vinegar spell. I went to sit in the living room wishing I could relax and watch something I would like to watch like Selling Houses Australia, rather than having to watch endless reruns of Starsky and Hutch. I was handing Persnickle a piece of carrot as a treat when a knock on the door startled me.

  I hurried over to it, figuring maybe Oleander or Athanasius had left something in my car. To my horror, Thomas was standing on my doorstep.

  “Goldie, we need to talk,” he said as he slipped past me.

  “Come in,” I said sarcastically. “Why don’t you stand for the short time you’ll be here?”

  He took a wide berth around Persnickle and sat on one of my sofas at the far side of the room.

  “You smell delicious, Goldie. What is it?”

  “Coffee, most likely,” I said. I expected he wanted me to offer him one, but I wasn’t going to. It was then I remembered coffee was illegal in East Bucklebury so I added, “It’s my coffee scented candle. It’s illegal to own or consume coffee in East Bucklebury.”

  His jaw dropped open. He quickly shut it, and added, “Yes, a lady at the one and only café in East Bucklebury did tell me that when I asked for coffee. I thought she was joking at first. Goldie, will you come back with me to civilisation?”

  “Why would I?” I said with a dismissive wave of my left hand. “I don’t like you, Thomas, and I’m happy here. I have friends and a wombat.”

  He eyed Persnickle warily. “What? You mean those oldies? And that has-been detective?”

  I pointed to the door. “How dare you insult my friends! Just go back to Melbourne, Thomas.”

  He did not stand but held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, it’s obvious we got off on the wrong foot. Goldie, I only realised how deeply I feel for you after you left to go to Queensland.”

  “You ordered me to go to Queensland,” I reminded him. “And it’s a pity you didn’t remember how much you felt for me when you were”—I tried to think of a suitable euphemism—“overly friendly with Alexis. And to make matters worse, when I said I wouldn’t come back to you, you sacked me! What a nerve!” I could feel myself growing hot.

  “Let me explain,” he said hurriedly. “I only said that because I thought you would come to your senses. Goldie, I’m in love with you. I’ve never been in love with anyone before. I’ve never told a woman I love them. You’re the only one for me, Goldie. I truly do love you.” He put his hand over his heart as he said it and grinned.

  I glared at him. “Well, that’s all well and good, but I don’t feel the same way about you. I have no feelings for you, Thomas. Not nice ones, at any rate. Now please leave my house and never come back. Thomas, I never want to see you again. I don’t know how I can make myself any clearer than that.”

  “You don’t mean it, Goldie,” Thomas said in a cajoling tone.

  “I certainly do mean it.” I walked over to the door and opened it, only to let out a soft cry.

  Max was standing there, his hand raised to knock.

  “Thomas was just leaving,” I said quickly. For a long moment Max didn’t lower his hand.

  Thomas walked over the door. He looked Max up and down, blew me a kiss, and winked at me. “Catch you later, Goldie.”

  I grabbed Max’s arm, pulled him inside, and then slammed the door as hard as I could.

  “Are you all right, Goldie?” Max said, peering into my face. His own face was bright red.

  “No, I’m not. Thomas was just here asking me to go back to Melbourne with him and telling me how he feels about me.” I threw both my hands in the air.

  Max tore
off his jacket and started to pace around the room. “Some cheek that guy has,” he muttered more to himself than to me. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  “He said he’s in love with me or some such rubbish,” I said. I didn’t want to wind up Max any more, but I needed to blurt it out to someone. “I don’t know what his agenda is. I mean, I did sell a lot of real estate for him. Maybe he wants me to go back and thinks I’ll only work for him again if we’re back in a relationship.”

  “Maybe he really is in love with you,” Max said. He looked at me with big puppy dog eyes.

  I was shocked. “That hadn’t even occurred to me.”

  Max was now staring at me hard. “Why would you find it so hard to believe?”

  I could no longer look Max in the eye. He made me feel way too exposed. “It makes no difference to me,” I said dismissively. “He can feel whatever he likes towards me, because the only thing I feel toward him is irritation and annoyance. Would you like some coffee, Max?”

  Max’s face lit up. Suddenly, his whole body relaxed. I wondered for a moment if he had been worried that I still loved Thomas. “I’m just wondering if you should get a better hiding place for the coffee machine. You know, just in case Power comes snooping around.”

  “But he’d need a warrant, wouldn’t he? And would you know if he got a warrant?”

  Max shifted from one foot to the other. “That’s just it. I should hear if he gets a warrant, but I might not find out in time to hide the coffee machine.”

  “It’s too big to hide,” I said. “It is plumbed in, after all. Maybe I could disguise it, maybe as a sculpture?” I looked at the coffee machine and scratched my head. “No, I think the only way is to make sure Power doesn’t suspect me.”

  I was referring to the spell, but Max became instantly suspicious. “Goldie, please tell me you’re not going to investigate.”

  I handed him his coffee. “Here, just how you like it.”

  “Don’t avoid the subject, Goldie.”