Moggies, Magic and Murder

by Pearl Goodfellow

  Infirma raised her face to me. She nodded slowly and finally croaked a husky “Yes.”

  David began with, “Ms. Devlin, I’m not certain I have the words to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. This must be a terrible shock.”

  Infirma blinked at David’s condolences. It seemed the chief had broken the grief-stricken woman out of her dead zone. “There are no words, Inspector. There really aren’t.”

  “Can you tell me what happened just before the…incident?”

  Infirma shook her head, fresh tears cascading down her gaunt face. “I’ve been sitting here for the last…however long it’s been…just turning it over in my head. One minute, we’re talking about getting the stair lift at home fixed, and then, as the Ferris wheel grinds to a halt when we reach the top, she … she…”

  “Here,” I dropped a stack of tissues in front of her, gave her shoulder another quick squeeze, and returned to my seat.

  “Infirma, describe to me what happened when the carriage stopped at the top.” David leaned across the table, folding his hands and looking directly into the eyes of Morag’s sister.

  “Well .. she just gets this blank look on her face. Right while she’s telling me she’ll get Spencer, our housekeeper, to look at the stairlift in the morning.” Infirma’s breath started hitching, and she gulped in a giant pool of air. “S-s-he stops what she’s saying, and just stands up. She stands up! On the seat! I tried to hold on! I did! Why did she do that? What made her do that?” Infirma wailed, folding over onto the table, her arms sliding over her head. David and I looked at one another over her sobbing.

  “We have reason to believe your sister didn’t commit suicide, Ms. Devlin. We believe her death might be the cause of foul play. So I hope that helps you reconcile your loss somewhat. We will, of course, keep you updated with any pertinent info, but in the meantime, please do keep all information regarding this case to yourself.” David leaned back in his chair and pushed his glasses up on his nose, scrunching up his eyes as he did so. Goddess, he’s so unbearably cute.

  Infirma’s sobbing became more subdued as she took in David’s words. Remaining in her forward slump she mumbled, “So she didn’t kill herself?” We heard her choked voice muffled by her forearms.

  “Well, we certainly think there’s a chance that we will find something that suggests otherwise,” David said, pulling his pen and notepad closer to him. “How would you describe Morag’s state of mind in the days leading up to this evening?”

  Infirma didn’t hesitate. “Agitated. She was nervous the entire week leading up to today. I’d heard her pacing in her room late at night, which she only does…did…when something big was on her mind. I kept asking if she was okay. But, she said it was work, and I was satisfied with that. You probably both know of her two recent high profile cases?” Infirma swiveled her frizzy head between David and me. We both nodded.

  “Go on,” David said.

  “She also kept making sure all the wards and charms that cover the estate were all active and working. Five am every morning she’d get on the horse and go riding out to all four boundaries of the property. Making sure that the protective layers were all working. She’d never done that before. And, as you both probably know, Morag wasn’t exactly a popular person. She had a few … haters.” Infirma bobbed her head between CPI Trew and I once more to check that we knew about her sister’s reputation. We both confirmed we did.

  “So you’re saying that your sister had every reason to be fanatical about the security of your estate even before this last week or so?”

  “Well, of course. Morag was no stranger to death threats. And, we often had troublemakers trying to scale the perimeter of the land -- they didn’t get in of course, but I’m saying that Morag used to wave it off as if it was nothing. She never felt threatened by the nasty promises her haters delivered to her. So, yeah, it was strange that she was so worried about it now. Or, just recently, I mean. It just doesn’t fit that my sister would have been so spooked about a potential threat. She was a champion at taking these dastardly affairs in her stride.” Infirma blew her nose in one of the stock-piled tissues. “Whatever was bothering, Morag … well, it must have been big.” Infirma’s words sounded positively choked.

  “Anything else, Ms. Devlin? Anything at all?” David leaned across the table again, his hands just inches from Infirma’s.

  “Well, she refused to take me into Knobby Knoll. Which was strange.”

  “Knobby Knoll?” I asked.

  Infirma nodded at my ignorance. I wasn’t a Cathedralite. I knew only the capital, Chalice, and a few of its choice beaches. Oh, and that one small section of the Glimmer Mountains, and the mountain range’s defiant sentinel: Burning Peak.

  “It’s the village at the edge of our estate.” Infirma explained. “About thirty minutes west of Chalice. Historically, the village’s inhabitants were all workers for our lands and stately home. Some still are. It’s a small village with just a handful of shops, but it offers an adequate distraction for a couple of hours. They have a nice tea and scone special at the Red Duck on Tuesday’s. Morag refused to take me this time. She wouldn’t tell me why.” Infirma blew her nose again.

  “What about her schedule for that week? Anything unusual?” David asked.

  Infirma frowned, shaking her head. “Not really. There were her days in court, a few legal engagements. A few public ones. Oh, and one engagement that I was also to be a part of; tomorrow’s bell unveiling ceremony at St Pendragon’s. Oh, and the ‘Buried Secrets’ ceremony at Cagliostro Warlock School.”

  David stopped writing and looked over the rim of his glasses at Infirma.

  “Oh, I guess you could call it more of a PR stunt,” Morag’s sister began. “Coven’s Cauldron’s newest advertising venture for the Futura Cauldron,” she confirmed. “But, the gist of it was that Cagliostro School buries a time capsule filled with Warlock memorabilia … you know, for future Warlocks to find, and marvel over historical artifacts from the Warlock world? The time capsule itself? A Futura Cauldron, of course. With lid supplied. I guess Coven’s Cauldron’s figures it’s a way to get their brand recognized in the future.” Infirma sighed. “Well, of course, it was great for the school too. They got five brand new Futura’s for their potion’s lab just for hosting the event.”

  I took a thoughtful sip of my lemon balm tea. Futura. The Rolls Royce of cauldrons. Futura 2 was in the making right now, and I suspected Orville Nugget was going to make a lot of money very soon. I felt happy for the mourning teen. His father, Aurel, would have been very proud. I got up from my chair then, kneeling down so I could be eye-level with Infirma.

  “Is there anything else you can think of? Anything at all?”

  Infirma’s eyes rolled skyward as she thought of the events of the past week.

  “Come to think of it, yes. I mean, it’s probably nothing, but there was a call to the estate last week. I happened to be walking past the phone while it was ringing, so I answered it. Something I rarely do. It was Governor Shields, and he wanted to speak to Morag.” David and I exchanged a glance. Governor Gideon Shields of Cathedral was a man we both suspected of Millicent Pond’s murder. He’d put all of the blame on his right-hand woman, Mari Falk. Claimed she had acted alone. We couldn’t find a shred of evidence to pin the Governor to the murder of the eco-activist and that fact still burned brightly in our bellies. Shields was as charismatic as they come and was liked by most who met him. He presented a squeaky-clean image, but David and I both knew that some hidden agenda was lurking behind the handsome governor’s carefully maintained facade. Bast, I nearly went out on a date with the man not so long ago!

  Infirma caught our exchange. “Is there something significant in that?”

  David shook his head and replied, “I’m not certain at this point. What else can you tell us about this call?”

  “Well, it was the first time that Gideon had called the estate. I know Morag worked closely with him, but all official business between them had bee
n conducted during regular hours of operation before now, so it was strange for Morag to field a call from the Governor. Particularly on a weekend.” Infirma cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes again. “Anyway, Morag took the call in her study, and I was instructed to hang up as soon as she had picked up the call,” the frail woman said. “I didn’t hear any of the conversation I’m afraid, so whether it had anything to do with Morag not sleeping that night, and crying in her room, I couldn’t tell you. But, something had bothered my sister greatly, and her restlessness seemed to take over shortly after the call with Shields.” Infirma looked at us both, her eyes questioning.

  “Did you ask her about it?” David queried.

  “I did, yes. I was worried. I woke up to the sounds of Morag crying and pacing in her room. I went to her. Asked if everything was okay or if there was anything I could do.”

  “So, did she share with you what was bothering her?” I asked gently.

  “No. No, she didn’t. She barely acknowledged me, in fact. She was just mumbling the same words over and over again,” Infirma stated.

  “What words?” David pressed.

  “Well, I’m not sure you’ll make much sense of them, I know I couldn’t,” Infirma offered with a weak smile. “But, she kept saying: ‘I have to hide it, I have to hide it.’”

  “And you have no idea what ‘it’ is?” David guessed.

  Infirma shook her head, her bottom lip quivering.

  David finished the last of his notes and then licked his lips, and fiddled with his glasses. I knew that look all too well. He was about to either ask or deliver a delicate question or statement.

  “Ms. Devlin, I really hate to even ask this. But I need to. Did you and your sister get on well?”

  The dam of tears Infirma had managed to hold back for the last few minutes erupted. David and I sat quietly, waiting out the fresh outpour.

  “I’m sorry…I’m sorry about that.”

  “No need for apologies, Ms. Devlin,” David urged. “I’m just trying to paint a clear picture right now,”

  Infirma nodded as she put down the last tissue on the table. “My sister was my world…and I was hers. We are the last of our long, celebrated family line. This fact has only made us closer. While it’s true that I will now inherit the whole estate we shared, nothing could ever replace my sister. My Morag.”

  David sighed, snapped his notebook shut and leaned back in his chair again, rubbing his eyes. “If you’d like to take a moment, please do. When you feel up to it, I can have a constable take you home. If there’s anything you need from us, just let us know, and we’ll be happy to help.”

  David and I waited in the hallway for Reverend Peacefield to be brought in for questioning. The station was still crazily busy, as staff and questionable characters alike busied themselves with fingerprinting, mug shots, intake forms, and whatnot. Eve Fernacre walked toward us with a weary smile.

  “Sir, Peacefield is being brought up now,”

  “Great, thanks, Eve,” David replied. “Wow, pretty lively here tonight, ain’t it?” He nodded toward a group of drunks who desk sergeant Spinefield was trying to calm down.

  “Yes, sir. It’s keeping everyone busy tonight, that’s for sure,” Eve laughed. “In fact, sir, we don’t have enough room here this evening to process everyone. This chap here, for instance,” Eve nodded to the mysterious looking man I’d seen her with earlier. His head was bent forward, swinging ever so subtly over the folded hands he had resting in his lap.

  “What’s his story?” David asked Eve Fernacre.

  “A drifter, sir. No ID. No last known whereabouts, or anything. We just have his name. ...er…” She rifled through the top couple of pages of the clipboard she was carrying. “Typhon Jyldrar,”

  “What’s he in for? Presumably more than just drifting?” David asked his voice taking on a weary edge.

  “Well, only slightly more, sir,” Eve confessed. “Ribbs picked him up a couple of hours ago for vagrancy. Sleeping in the doorway of Glessie Glamor Emporium. Violet Mulberry called it in,” said the jail warden.

  “Are you asking me if we should release him, Eve?” David asked.

  “Kinda, sir. It’s a full house here tonight, and the cells are already stuffed with more, er … ‘qualified’ candidates,” she said.

  “Yep, I agree,” David nodded toward the man in dirty clothes, and greasy long hair that hung over secret craggy features. “You can see Typhon Jyldrar to the door, Eve. No point using up resources for someone who just wants a bed for the night,” CPI Trew admitted. Eve nodded and walked toward the slumped drifter. “Make sure he knows not to make his bed in the downtown core. West side, near the Myrdwen cliffs, is probably his best bet for a hidey-hole,”

  Spinefield approached us as Eve was taking care of her charge.

  “Sir, Reverend Peacefield,” the sergeant announced. Reverend Peacefield’s head popped out behind the desk sergeant. “Hello,” his ruddy cheeks lifted with a genuine smile. I really liked this guy.

  “Vicar, let’s go in, shall we,” David made a ‘go ahead’ gesture, and we followed the Reverend into the questioning room.

  “I really should apologize, Vicar,” David said as Reverend Peacefield took his seat. “I know that the hour is less than convenient and that you’ve already—“

  “It’s all in the interests of justice, Inspector,” Peacefield said, waving away David’s concerns while directing his smiling gaze to my corner. “Besides, we all know the longer you wait to uncover all the clues and data, the colder the trail gets.”

  “We do?” David asked, a warm smile lifting his full lips. He likes this guy too.

  Reverend Peacefield waved his arms in mock dismissal. “Oh, take no notice of my rumblings, CPI Trew,” the vicar chuckled. “If I’m to be completely honest, I’m a tiny bit thrilled by all this mystery that’s been ‘dropped’ before us. I’m not sure how the Goddess would feel about that, in the face of this tragedy, and the loss of a dear beneficiary, but I can’t help but think of what Father Dowling might make of all this treachery,” Peacefield beamed with unmasked excitement.

  “You’re a fan of Father Dowling?” I screeched. “I love him too!” I leaned forward in my seat, and Reverend Peacefield turned and mirrored my gesture.

  “Oh, Goddess, yes,” the religious man burbled, “And, Father Brown too. Do you follow his adventures?” Reverend Peacefield’s eyes were dancing now.

  “I LOVE Father Brown!” I clapped my hands together in enchantment. “Riding around on his bike, in his robes. Enjoying his little tipple and espousing his wisdom with full humility!”

  “That’s right! That’s our Father,” the vicar sputtered. “And, let us not forget Brother Cad--”

  “Ahem,” David was peering over his glasses at us both, his pen knocking his notepad to bring us back to what we were here for.

  “CPI Trew, forgive me.” Peacefield pulled himself back to the table to face the chief; his Godly sleuthing heroes temporarily put on hold. I caught David’s eye and gave a sheepish shrug. Could I help it if the Reverend and I shared great taste in the sleuthing classics?

  David flipped through his notebook. “Reverend Peacefield, can you tell me why the Devlin sister’s donated a church bell to Saint Pendragon’s when their congregation is at Our Lady of Shallot on Cathedral?” The chief began. “Wouldn’t it make sense for them to stick to their local parish? Why St Pendragon’s?”

  “Yes, of course. Morag and Infirma were born in Gless Inlet. Their family's church -- before their move to Cathedral, that is -- was our church. St Pendragon’s. The bonds have always been tight, CPI Trew. Also, there’s really no ‘competition’ as it were, between St Pen’s and OLOS. They are the same network of churches, albeit Our Lady Of Shallot is the wealthier of the two. Reverend Stormhead is a master at raising funds.”

  “So, you made the pledge for a new bell, and Morag came through for you? Just like that?” David’s eyes narrowed.

  “Exactly like that, CPI Trew,�
� the Reverend confirmed. “I asked, and the Goddess provided. Through the generous donation from Morag Devlin.” Thaddeus Peacefield cleared his throat. “I truly have no reason to believe this was a suspicious endeavor on Morag’s part,” he finished.

  “So, presumably you’ve had several interactions with Morag of late, then? With regards to the bell donation, and I believe the …” David consulted his notes again. “...the ribbon cutting ceremony for the bell is supposed to be tomorrow?”

  “Yes, that’s correct, Para Inspector,” Thaddeus replied. “Morag and I have been planning the ceremony for some weeks now.”

  “And how would you say Morag was behaving just recently? Any noticeable changes in character or behavior?”

  “Great question, Sir!” Peacefield exclaimed. “And, just the type of question Brother Cadfael would ask. Trying to gauge the character’s journey and whatnot!” The vicar bubbled with enthusiasm and swiveled in his chair to face me, his eyebrows raised in an invitation for me to agree with him. Which, of course, I did, with a rabid bobbing of my head. Brother Cadfael would ask EXACTLY that sort of question!

  “Guys, please,” came David’s weary voice. I folded my hands and pulled my features into a grave look. Reverend Peacefield did the same.

  “Of course, Inspector,” Thaddeus mumbled like a schoolboy who had just been warned for talking in class. “Morag, you understand, had been under an insurmountable amount of strain just recently. What with both the Hagatha Jinx and the more recent Norris Copperhead trials, it’s no wonder she was feeling a little… ah … fidgety.” Peacefield looked at David, and the latter nodded for him to continue. “All the same, I’d say she was just a smidgen more jumpy than usual. And, last week she showed a peculiar interest in the Avalon Vaults. Which was quite strange.”