I sniffed the sandwich. ‘A stuffing sandwich? How did you know? Oh, Melissa, I love you so much right now.’
Two Melissas grinned at me. ‘Well, although I am very loveable, it was Max who made you the stuffing sandwich.’
‘And it was me who went over to Three Witches’ Brew and woke the brothers up so I could get you a Sober-Up potion,’ said two Finns, standing up and rubbing their heads. ‘Although to be fair, I needed one for myself. I put it in your coffee. So drink, eat, and let’s get to work.’
Although I wanted to drink the coffee very, very quickly, my stomach wasn’t quite up to the job. Hmm. This could take some time.
‘You don’t normally drink much more than orange juice,’ said the Finns, stealing half of my sandwich and cramming it into their mouths. ‘How come you knocked back nearly as much as me?’
I sipped and nibbled carefully for a moment (for some reason, opening my jaw too wide seemed to hurt my head even more), before saying, ‘Oh, y’know ... because it’s the most wonderful time of the year. I guess I thought I’d be hangover proof. Anyway, where is Max? And everyone else?’
The Melissas sat down across from me and took a drink of their coffee. ‘Mam’s gone off to say goodbye to Kevin Caulfield before we go to my dad’s. Your parents haven’t been seen yet today, and their bedroom door is staying firmly shut. So, y’know ... that’s too horrific to think about. And Max ...’ They rubbed their chins. ‘Max made you a sandwich and then went to walk Wolfie on the beach. Or at least I think that’s what he was doing, anyway. I mean, he had Wolfie with him. But he was kind of doing an angry mumbling thing, so for all I know he’s taken the dog to Timbuktu.’
‘Oh.’ I managed to wrestle the remainder of my sandwich from the Finns, and finished it in two big gulps. ‘Well, none of that matters right now. I mean, I’ll probably throw up over what you said about my parents when I have time to process it, but ... I figured out who the killer is. Or maybe it’s killers, plural. That I’m not a hundred percent sure of.’ I drained my cup. ‘Good coffee. I’m almost starting to see just one of each of you again.’
‘Ah.’ Understanding dawned on Melissa’s face (one face, yippee!). ‘I should have known you figured it out. That’ll be why you were in my room in the early hours of the morning thumping away at my computer keyboard and saying, “Aha!”’
22.Sophistiwitch for Men
When we arrived at Gráinne’s house, we were ever so slightly shocked by who answered the door.
‘Adeline? What are you doing here?’
She scowled. ‘That’s what I’ve been asking myself since yesterday afternoon. Gráinne phoned me when I got home from my meeting with you. She said she was stuck at work, and asked me if I could come over and relieve her babysitter. She said she’d only be an hour or so. So I thought, well, that’s fine. Julian will be okay for another hour or so. And it’s not like I had any plans. Also, y’know, her mother had just died, so the fact that I’m terrible with children wasn’t really a suitable excuse.’
I felt my legs go weak. ‘You haven’t heard from her since yesterday afternoon?’
Adeline shook her head. ‘And the poor kids had to open their presents without her, last night. I’ve phoned her a hundred times. I’ve tried calling people who know her, or who knew her mother, so they could come and take over and I could get home to Julian. But I guess they were all too busy celebrating the return of the sun. I’m thinking that’s what Gráinne was up to last night, too. Maybe she’s fast asleep on a tavern sofa somewhere.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Finn. ‘Listen, we’re really sorry, Adeline, but can you keep an eye on the kids a little while longer. We’re ... we’re looking for Gráinne too, you see.’
She laughed brusquely. ‘Obviously. I mean, I assume that’s why you called in. Oh, look, I’ll stay here for now, and I’ll try not to be too cranky about it. But let me know what’s going on as soon as you can, please. Julian might be able to feed himself, but he can’t well give himself a cuddle, now can he?’
≈
I pushed on the door of Suits Without Sorcery.
‘Locked,’ I said. ‘I can try an opening spell.’
‘Sod that,’ Finn replied, kicking his foot towards the lock. In two surprisingly limber moves, the door snapped open.
As soon as we walked inside, my nose began to twitch. ‘He’s here,’ I whispered. ‘I can smell him.’
‘We’re closed!’ shouted a male voice. ‘Come back in the New Year.’
Finn pulled out his truncheon, and we walked cautiously towards the back of the shop. ‘Afraid we can’t do that Mr Rundt. We kind of need to see you right now.’
Mr Rundt grew quiet, and we made our way behind the till. A door marked, ‘Staff Only,’ was ajar, and we pushed our way inside. The room was tiny, but I think even if it had been the biggest room in Ireland, the smell of Mr Rundt’s cologne would have made me sneeze. Sophistiwitch for Men, according to his expense receipts. El Stencho for Murderers, more like.
Gráinne was sitting, pressed up against the side wall, her hands and legs tied with what looked like a magical bond, and her mouth gagged with a plain old handkerchief. Mr Rundt was looming over her, facing us, with a wand outstretched. He was wearing suit trousers, but his jacket had been removed to reveal a shirt and suspenders beneath. ‘Don’t come any closer,’ he said. ‘I’ve been practising my killing spells.’
‘And when did you start practising them?’ Finn asked. ‘Was it when you met your lovely wife? Or when you realised her mother owned some incredibly valuable property?’
The lawyer glared at us, his lips curled. His hair product had long given up working, and a strand was now falling into his left eye. He blew at it, pointlessly, but the strand stayed hanging. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about. I told you – stay away. This is between a man and his wife.’
I pushed past him and pulled the gag from Gráinne’s mouth, then took a look at the golden rope that was binding her. Binding spells were only as good as the witch who made them, so I undid it in less than a second. It was then that I noticed the piece of paper, lying at Gráinne’s feet. ‘He’s been trying to get me to sign it over,’ she said. ‘But I won’t! I won’t do it.’
I picked up the paper. It was a form to transfer the title deed for Winnie’s house and land. The signature of the buyer was filled in. I gulped and passed it to Finn.
‘Gabriel Godbody the Twentieth?’ He looked at Mr Rundt. ‘You’re trying to get Gráinne to sign her mother’s house over?’
Mr Rundt clenched his teeth. ‘We’re a married couple, as of a few days ago. What’s hers is mine. But I can’t seem to get that through her thick skull.’
‘I didn’t know he killed her!’ Gráinne cried, looking pleadingly at me. ‘He – he was here when you called round yesterday, Wanda. As soon as he saw you at the front door, he ran off and hid in the changing room. I didn’t understand why he ran in there at first, and I was desperately trying not to think of the obvious reason, while you and I were talking. I’m so sorry. I know I was rude to you. But I had to get you to leave so I could ask him to tell me the truth.’ She hung her head. ‘And I found out the truth, all right. I thought he loved me. But he just wanted my mother’s house.’
Mr Rundt pointed his wand at me and said, ‘Marbh.’
‘Wow. You really have been practising your killing spells,’ I said. ‘I feel so dead right now.’
He gawped from me to his wand, and then began banging the tip of it before pointing it again. I almost felt sorry for him – that poor, evil lawyer in his frenzied state of confusion. He had used a simple spell – the Irish word for dead – but coupled with a wand and the right amount of intent, it should have done the job.
Finn sighed, pulled the wand from him and then indicated a small, round device hanging off his belt. ‘You keep forgetting that you lawyers aren’t the only ones my aunt’s been throwing money at for months. I disempowered you the second we walked into the room. I just point
at the little bad man, press a button and ... ta da.’
A high squeal escaped the lawyer’s lips. I began to think he might be on the verge of stamping his feet, but Finn saved us from that pathetic sight by saying, ‘Bind.’ The rope did a much better job than Mr Rundt’s, pressing his arms to his sides and tightening around his legs. But while stamping might have been narrowly avoided, that angry squeal kept right on coming.
‘Gráinne, I’ve got to tell you that I’m still a little bit confused,’ I said, raising my voice over the noise. ‘If you didn’t have anything to do with all of this, then why did you hide your marriage from us? I understand why you didn’t tell me yesterday, but you avoided all mention of him long before that.’
She glanced at her husband. ‘My mother hated him on sight. She told me not to marry him. She said he was the worst one I’d chosen yet. She told me that she could feel all of the bad intentions in his heart. I went and married him anyway. I did it ... I did it the day before she was killed. I was going to tell her that day, but then ... well then she was dead. Dougie said we should wait until the funeral was over before we told people, and I agreed. I wanted to concentrate on my mother. And at that stage, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to stay married to him. My mother had been right about my other husbands. I started to fear she might be right about Dougie, too. I figured I could just get a divorce or an annulment, and it’d be almost like it never happened. I hoped ... I hoped that I’d never have to tell anyone how stupid I’d been.’
I looked at Mr Rundt. ‘Dougie? Anything you might like to add? I can completely see why Gráinne would want to keep her marriage to you a secret, but what was your reason? Your real one? I mean, I can see why you’d wait for the dust to settle before you tried to get her to sell her mother’s house. But what with you having her all tied up and trying to get her to sign it over right now ... well that’s kind of dumb, under the circumstances.’
He stuttered a few times, spittle flying from his mouth. ‘Y-you! W-Wanda b-bloody W-Wayfair! I wish to the goddess you’d stayed unempowered.’
‘Hey.’ Finn’s face bore a gruff expression. ‘Wanda’s not the only person arresting you, you know. I’d kind of like if some of that frustrated rage was directed my way.’
‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this!’ Dougie cried, turning to Finn and giving him exactly what he’d asked for. ‘I was going to wait it out. Convince Gráinne it was time to sell in a few weeks’ time. But you people were getting too close. I’d stolen all the records of our marriage, but you still wouldn’t stop poking your noses in. I knew Wanda didn’t believe Mrs Dove was involved when she came here questioning Gráinne yesterday. So I tried to hurry things along. Only this stupid witch wouldn’t agree.’
‘No. I wouldn’t.’ Gráinne glared at her husband. ‘So he decided to try and force me. He says Mr Godbody will pay a fortune for the property. But my mother would never have sold it to that weirdo. Dougie spent all last night telling me that if I didn’t agree to sell, he’d kill me, and then he’d inherit it anyway seeing as we’re married now.’
I glanced at Mr Rundt. ‘Yeah. Well a night is a long time to spend not killing someone. I guess he was keen to avoid that outcome. One body, he thought he might just get away with. But two? And Mrs Dove definitely wouldn’t be able to take the rap for this one, seeing as she’s been in custody since yesterday morning. Mr Rundt – Dougie – I just have one more question for you. Did Mr Godbody know about any of this?’
The room fell silent, and his eyes went a little too wide before he looked away from me. ‘No. No. Mr Godbody just wanted to buy the place. That’s all. He knew nothing about me killing Winnie. I’m the only guilty party here.’
≈
Two hours later, Finn and I stood at the graveyard in Riddler’s Cove, laying three blind mice to rest. Winnie wasn’t buried yet, but she would soon be there beside them. And her funeral didn’t matter, anyway, because I had the feeling that they were all together already.
The wind was picking up, and cold rain and sea spray blew in our direction all the while. Every now and then, I was sure I saw a spot of snow mixed in with the spray and the rain. I thought of Solstices past, standing in this very graveyard, looking at the empty grave that had been my father’s. I thought of Solstices future, when I might be standing here again, burying yet another familiar with their witch.
But here, now, this Solstice, I was saying goodbye to three blind mice. And whilst I’d only known them for a short time, I was going to miss them a lot.
‘I dunno about you,’ said Finn as we smoothed over the soil. ‘But grief always makes me hungry. And speaking of hungry, I heard the Hungry Hippy are doing a new special today. The Hungover Hippy, they’re calling it. Wanna try it out?’
I looked down at the tiny grave, and brushed a tear away. ‘Sure. Why not?’
≈
The Hungover Hippy turned out to be a plate piled with fried mushrooms, fried tomatoes, veggie sausages, baked beans and hash browns, accompanied by a green juice and some wholemeal bread for mopping up. It sounded like a strange combination, but it worked. Coupled with the Sober-Up potion from earlier on, I was beginning to feel almost human. Well, almost witchy, anyway.
The place was packed, and most of the customers were still in their golden robes of the night before, all desperately throwing back green juices and wincing down at their plates.
‘I can’t believe how quickly we got him into Witchfield,’ Finn said, squeezing more ketchup onto our hash browns.
‘Yeah, I know,’ I replied with a tired laugh. ‘You’d almost think Judge Redvein hated him or something, the way she arrived at the Wyrd Court two minutes after our call.’
‘Not just that, though.’ Finn’s mouth was twisting into a troubled frown. ‘I mean, yeah, everyone who works at the Wyrd Court is only too happy to see that guy sent to jail. But it was him – the way he was. He pleaded guilty. Just like that. Told us everything we needed to know, and repeated the same to Judge Redvein. I mean, he’s a lawyer. I was sure he’d come up with some way to wriggle out of the charges. Hey, you never did tell me how you figured it out.’
I squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel the near-constant activity of the last few days catching up with me. ‘Because he was dumb as hell, that’s how. Melissa’s been clerking for him at work. He made her submit his end of year expense report last night. To be honest, I wasn’t really paying attention to any of it when I was helping her get it finished. It just came to me later, when I was very, very drunk. He buys a new suit every month, without fail, and then puts it down as a work expense. All of them in Suits Without Sorcery. A couple of months ago, he stopped. I figured that Gráinne stopped charging him once they started seeing each other. Which meant he must be her secret husband.’
‘A bit of a leap.’ Finn pulled a pained expression as he slugged back some of his green juice. ‘How much spirulina did they put in this thing? It smells like pond scum.’
I took a sip of my own juice. Yeah, it smelled like pond scum, but it tasted okay. And if it would undo even a tenth of the damage I inflicted upon my poor body the night before, then I might just get a second glass. ‘Oh, yeah – there was the cologne, too,’ I said. ‘The mice smelled a strong, icky scent when Winnie was being murdered. And when I went to see Gráinne, the smell in the shop was the strongest and ickiest I’ve ever known. He puts that on his expense account, too. Sophistiwitch for Men.’
‘Still a leap,’ said Finn. ‘A good leap. But a leap. Your brain is ... well, it’s ... let’s just say it gets the job done and leave it at that. So what do we do about your boyfriend’s father? Do we really believe he knew nothing about the murder? I mean, the second you asked Mr Rundt if Gabriel senior knew anything, he looked scared. I thought he was going to make an even worse smell than his cologne.’
I took a deep breath and sat forward. ‘Yeah. Yeah, he did look scared. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason behind that fear was the same reason he didn’t try to wriggle out of t
he charges, either. Finn ... I think we might need to expand Operation Long Leash.’
23. The Night Before Christmas
I arrived in the hallway to total darkness. But such arrivals had been becoming the norm, of late. I ran around the house, switching on all of the Christmas lights. Dizzy flew behind me, nattering away about whether or not Santa would bring him more mangoes.
‘You’ve got a kitchen full of mangoes,’ I told him with a laugh, as I turned on the battery-operated Santa in the kitchen. ‘How come you’ve asked for mangoes for Solstice and Christmas? You could have asked for anything. Asked for something that you didn’t already have truck-loads of, anyway. And ... do bats even believe in Santa?
‘Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!’ said the Santa.
I kissed his plastic, bearded face. ‘Merry Christmas to you, too, Santa. It’s Christmas Eve, as I’m sure you already know. Your time to shine, my ruddy-cheeked hero.’
‘Well, witches clearly believe in Santa,’ Dizzy said with a smirk. ‘You do, anyway. So why shouldn’t bats?’
I sat down at the table and sniffed Gabriel’s poinsettia, while I glanced at the clock. ‘I guess you’ve got a point. Hey, have you been at home all night?’
Dizzy shook his head. ‘Just got back. I went out with a colony of bats who live in the closest church. They were a bit too wild for me, though. I have a feeling they might be sipping the altar wine when the place is shut.’
‘Oh. Well, you’ll find a group more to your liking soon, I’m sure of it.’ I glanced at my watch, in case the kitchen clock was wrong. When that gave me the same time, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked that too, just to be sure. ‘It’s half past eleven, Dizzy. Max and me promised each other we’d swap our presents at midnight.’
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