by Nancy Warren
Had I dropped the cash somewhere? I beat back the panicky feeling that I'd lost a great deal of money that didn't belong to me and then forced myself to think back and mentally retrace my steps. I’d dragged in the table that displayed goods for sale during the daytime. I remembered putting the envelope of cash on it while I put everything away. I’d locked up behind me, but, now I thought about it, I was almost certain I'd forgotten to pick up the cash when I left.
I leaned against the cold stone wall beside the bank’s night safe drop box and groaned.
I did not want to retrace my steps. It was cold and dark and my feet were tired. But, I knew I’d never sleep for worrying if I didn’t retrieve that money and deposit it. The cash was destined for charity, after all.
I stomped back toward the market, beating myself up mentally the whole time. How could I have been so stupid? I walked quickly, my breath making white puffs in the night air, and the heels of my boots echoing on the pavement of the deserted streets.
As I grew closer, the market, which was so cheerful and inviting when filled with shoppers and glowing with lights, seemed dark and sad and deserted. I shivered, and then chided myself for being such a fool. Perhaps it was the wispy cloud trailing over the moon that made the scene look so eerie. The gothic arches, the spires and domes all appeared like ghosts from the past, looming in shadow, watching. I'd be glad to get the money safely deposited and head back to my warm flat. Gran had hinted that she might make a batch of gingerbread cookies today. Being surrounded by a group of vampires knitting feverishly, while crunching the world’s best cookies, seemed like a really good idea right now.
Chapter 6
As I grew closer to the huddle of dark chalets, I began to get that creeping feeling of being watched. Not the chill down the back of my neck that informed me Rafe was around, more like a nightmare feeling, when something dark and scary was chasing me and I couldn’t run fast enough.
It was after nine and there didn’t seem to be a soul about. I got out the keys and hurried my steps. When I got to the Timeless Treasures chalet, I glanced around nervously before unlocking the door. In the daytime, with the doors open and the lights on, with brightly colored goods spilling out, the market stall looked like a charming gingerbread-house-style chalet. But, essentially, when the doors were closed and it was locked up, it was a storage locker. I unlocked the padlock and eased the door open. Using the flashlight function on my mobile, I quickly discovered that I had, indeed, left the envelope of cash, already in its special pouch for deposit, sitting on the table.
Shaking my head in my own foolishness, I snatched up the envelope and tucked it into my bag.
I re-locked the door and turned around, breathing a quick sigh of relief, ready to walk home once again.
I'm not sure what made me look across at Gemma’s chalet. Had I heard a noise? I turned in time to see a dark figure disappear between Gemma’s stall and the one next to hers. I took a few steps forward, thinking that while I had any number of undead knitting friends looking out for me, and some genuine living friends, Gemma didn't know anyone in Oxford. If her chalet had been broken into, I should step up and be her friend. I knew how important the money was to her. I didn’t want her to be robbed, not when she’d had such a good day. Since we had the bad boyfriend history in common, I knew how much she needed this Oxford experience to be a good one.
Her chalet looked quiet and undisturbed. I was tempted to turn away and walk home, but I had a nagging sense that all was not right. I wasn't always certain what was intuition, what was my witch powers, and what was irrational fear. Probably, I’d spooked myself and was seeing monsters under the bed that weren’t there. However, on the off chance that my powers were tapping me on the shoulder, I figured I’d better take a closer look.
I’d just check that her lock was secure. That was all I’d do. It was neighborly. Friendly. Then I’d scamper home, make some hot chocolate to go with those cookies and sit in on the knitting circle for a while. The bank deposit would be safe with the vampires until tomorrow.
I squared my shoulders and walked briskly forward. When I was close enough to see clearly, I realized that I didn't have to test her lock because the door was ajar.
The sense that all was not right deepened. I could feel blackness, like thick shadow, around the door. A splash of color emerged and I recognized the toe end of one of a Christmas stocking emerging through the crack in the open door. It looked as though someone had shut the door hastily behind them, but the foot end of the stocking had stopped the door from shutting all the way. I switched the flashlight back on and silver and gold threads caught the light.
Why would one of Christopher Weaver’s Christmas stockings be in Gemma’s chalet? I reached for the door and slowly opened it. Inside my woolen mitts my hands were shaking.
In movies and television shows when people—usually women—find dead bodies, they always scream their heads off. In my experience, that's not what happens. Or at least not with me. I saw Gemma, lying on her side, with her back to me, and one of our stockings, one of our beautiful handcrafted, meant-to-be-a-family-heirloom, stockings, was wrapped around her throat.
There was no blood or any signs of violence. Had the stocking been used to strangle her?
I didn't scream. I stood there, frozen, as the enormity of what I was looking at began to filter through my senses. Then, I dropped to my knees beside her. "Gemma?"
Sure, maybe it was stupid to call her name, but there was always the possibility that she’d somehow fallen asleep on the floor of her chalet. It wasn't very likely, but I was grasping at straws.
She didn't answer.
I pulled off one of my mittens, gently pushed her hair out of her face and touched her cheek. It was cool, but not stone cold. She was more the temperature of Rafe or my Gran.
Don’t be dead. Please, please don’t be dead.
I picked up her wrist and felt for a pulse. My own was jumping so crazily that I wasn't sure, but I thought, maybe, I felt a very faint beat. This time, I spoke aloud. "Oh please, please, Gemma. Don't be dead."
I didn't scream, then, but I yelled. "Rafe!”
I knew he walked the streets at night, and I knew he was strangely connected with me. I believed that if I yelled for him he would come. And then I did what any other normal person would do and called 999.
It was awful seeing Gemma lying on the cold ground but I couldn't move her in case her neck was broken, or she was injured in some way that I could make worse by moving her. But the ground was so cold. I took off my coat and laid it over her. I also switched on the light in the chalet.
And then, because I didn't know what else to do, and I wanted to keep her alive, I began to rub her hands and to talk to her. "Gemma, it's Lucy. I'm here. I'm with you and I've called for an ambulance. You’re safe now.” I really hoped that was true, for both our sakes. “You've got to stay with me. Try and breathe. Just keep breathing."
I looked at that scarf wrapped so tightly around her neck and eased it away. My hands were shaking so badly I fumbled, but I managed to loosen her woolen noose.
Rafe arrived, and didn't say a word. He took in the scene at a glance and dropped to his knees beside me. "Is she dead?" He asked me softly, but in a matter-of-fact tone. If he’d tried to comfort me or express shock or sadness, I think I’d have burst into tears. His calm helped me to remain composed.
"I'm not sure. I think, maybe, she’s still breathing, but I'm in such a state myself I can't tell."
Gently, he took her hand from mine and pressed his fingers against her wrist. He glanced up at me and he must've seen the anxiety in my eyes for he smiled, reassuringly. "There's definitely a pulse. It's not strong, but she’s alive."
I was so happy I felt a stinging behind my eyelids. Then, he slipped off his coat and added it to mine on top of Gemma. I took her hand back and kept talking to her. I don’t even know what I said, nonsense probably. I was talking for my own benefit as much as Gemma’s.
Rafe said
, "Did you call an ambulance?"
I nodded.
"Good." He turned his head, listening. His hearing was acute, much keener than mine. “The police are on their way, too."
He rose, and stepped out of the chalet. I could see him glancing up and down Broad Street. He turned back to me. "Did you see anyone? Hear anything?"
I recalled those creepy moments when I’d thought I'd heard something and then turned in time to see that figure running away. I recounted exactly what I’d sensed, and seen. "It might've just been some kind of intuition."
He nodded. "I'm glad you heeded your senses. You likely saved her life."
I hadn't thought of that. "You mean…?"
“Someone intended this young woman to be dead. And, because you were here, they didn't have time to finish the job."
I shivered all over. “I almost walked in on a murderer?"
He looked down at me. His eyes were cold and furious. "I believe so." Then he hesitated. "I felt that you were in trouble. I believe that I would always feel it, but even so, what the hell were you doing wandering around, alone, late at night?"
“Luckily I was!” Then, when he only looked at me, clearly waiting for an explanation, I told him about forgetting the deposit and, as I'd pretty much expected, he blasted me. "What are a few hundred quid in an envelope compared to your safety?"
"I know. But everyone's working so hard and the money was for charity. I would've felt awful if the money was stolen."
He leaned down and grabbed my shoulders. His hands were so strong I thought he might leave bruises. "Nothing matters as much as you. Nothing."
He let go of me then, quite quickly, and stood and stepped out of the way. And then I heard, as he already had, the footsteps running down the road towards us. The paramedics arrived first, two of them who immediately got down on their knees beside Gemma. One was short and stocky. He had close-cropped black hair and heavy glasses. I hoped he could see properly with them. The other was female. Pale, straight hair tied back in a ponytail. Tired blue eyes. She looked as though she had Nordic ancestors.
“Who found her?” she asked. “What do you know?”
Before I could say more than, “Um, I think she was attacked. Maybe strangled,” the guy on the floor turned his head and looked at her. "She's alive. Get the body brace.”
I was so relieved to have confirmation that she was still alive. "Will she be okay?"
He didn't get emotional. I suppose you couldn't when you did a job like that. "Too early to say. We'll do our best."
And then the two of them brought a stretcher, oxygen, a medical bag. The lights of the ambulance were pulsing outside. While they were treating Gemma, Detective Inspector Ian Chisholm arrived with a uniformed cop. I was surprised. "Ian. What are you doing still working?"
His eyes moved swiftly between me and Rafe and then took in the scene. "I was working late on another case. The call came in, I was in the office." He looked at the paramedics. "She's alive?"
They both nodded. The woman said, "Looks like she's been strangled."
Then, to the three of us crowding around the edge of the door, she said, "Step outside, please.” We did. It was cold. And I think the fear and shock made me even colder.
Ian looked at me, shivering, and took off his own coat and put it around my shoulders. It was like we were in a farce passing coats around. Except it wasn’t funny. I was grateful for the warmth and I caught a hint of his scent on the coat. "What happened?"
I took a deep breath. Then, I related exactly what had happened, as I remembered it. How I had forgotten the cash in the Timeless Treasures chalet, returned for the money and then had seen someone running away from Gemma’s chalet.
He didn’t write anything down, merely watched my face. "Did you actually see them coming out of the chalet?"
“No. Just a black shadow at the edge of my vision disappearing between her chalet and the one beside it. I didn't see them come out of the door. I saw someone running away."
"Can you describe them?"
“I can do better than that. I know who it was.” I explained about Darren, how he’d been bothering Gemma and hanging around. “I saw him myself earlier today. He obviously got to Gemma after everyone had left and attacked her.”
Ian was watching me carefully. “Lucy, you need to separate what you think you know from what you actually saw, heard, or experienced personally.”
I felt like screaming. Who else could it be but Darren?
“Now, tell me exactly what you saw.”
“Fine,” I snapped. "One person. Just from the back. Wearing dark clothing. A man.” Ian was right, I had to stick to what I absolutely knew to be true. “Probably a man. Fairly slim. It was just for a minute."
"Okay, that's good. Walk back over to where you were when you saw this person."
I looked at him, puzzled. "You mean stand in front of the Timeless Treasure chalet?"
"Yes. Exactly where you were when you saw this person running."
"Okay." I walked back to exactly where I'd been.
He said, "Rafe? How tall are you?"
"About six foot two."
"And I'm five foot eleven. Rafe, indulge me and run between the two chalets and disappear. And then I'll do the same. Lucy, look at where our heads are against the height of the chalet and see if that will help you determine the height of the person you saw."
I thought that was a really smart idea. I guessed that was why he was the detective.
Rafe cast a somewhat suspicious glance at Ian. But he obliged. He walked over and paused about two feet in front of where a narrow corridor separated Gemma’s chalet from the one beside it that sold handmade wooden children's toys. He looked at me. "Ready, Lucy?"
I nodded. I tried to remember again that flash of movement I'd seen. Rafe ran between the two buildings like a moving shadow.
Ian said, "Well?"
"The man wasn't that tall."
"Okay. My turn."
He took the very position Rafe had. By this time the vampire had come around from the back of the chalet and was standing where Ian had been.
"Ready?" Ian asked.
"Yes."
He ran, exactly as Rafe had.
When he jogged around back the other side he looked at me. I walked over to join them.
“The person I saw was definitely not as tall as Rafe. About your height or maybe an inch or two shorter. I'm so sorry I can't be more specific, but they were running and it was dark.” Anyway, I was certain it was Darren. I reminded Ian again that I’d seen the guy earlier today.
“And Gemma pointed him out to you?”
Why did he always ask the annoying question? “No. I saw him watching her. I know it was him.”
“No. You don’t. You’re guessing.” Ian stopped me before I could argue. "That's okay. You've done really well. Is there anything else you can remember? You said you might've heard something."
"It wasn't anything human, nothing like a cry. Maybe it was the door shutting. I don't know."
Rafe pulled the linen gloves out of his pocket that he always seemed to carry, since he dealt in precious manuscripts all day. He slipped them on and then, only touching the top part of the door, he opened it and slowly closed it. The hinges squeaked.
"Yes." I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. That's the sound I heard. Then, by the time I turned, the guy was running away.”
Rafe stepped back and the paramedics wheeled Gemma out to the waiting ambulance. Her face was covered with an oxygen mask and her head and neck were encased in a neck brace. She lay so still I was frightened.
The three of us watched, quietly, as they put Gemma into the ambulance. Once it had driven away, Ian fetched my coat and Rafe’s and then, a bit awkwardly, I returned his coat even as I grasped mine. We all hurriedly slipped arms into sleeves and buttoned up.
"I suspect you being here scared that young woman's assailant away. You may have been more help than you realize."
I nodded. It was pretty much wh
at Rafe had said. Still, if I'd been more with it, perhaps I could have used the video function on my phone and filmed the guy running away. That would have been useful. I felt powerless and so angry. Someone I liked had been brutally attacked. “I hate that the attacker used one of Timeless Treasures’ stockings as the weapon.” They were not going to get away with hurting my friend with a stocking lovingly knit by one of the vampires. On that, I was determined.
Ian looked at the dark chalet where Gemma had been attacked. “I don’t suppose you can identify who purchased that particular stocking?"
I’d already thought of that, and I shook my head. "It’s a market. Most people pay in cash. We have a receipt book, obviously, but it’s not like we’re tracking stock like we do in the shop. I’ll ask if anyone remembers selling that stocking, but it’s a long shot.”
“Do you have a surname for Darren?”
“No. But he texted her. Check her phone.”
His gaze sharpened on mine. “Did she have it with her today?”
“Yes. She showed me Darren’s creepy texts.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t find a mobile.”
Of course. He’d taken it. Oh, how I wished I’d tracked that rat down and put my returning spell on him. I had to curl my fingers into my palms as I felt the electric pulses in my fingers. “We were only just getting friendly. She seemed so nice. She is nice." I would not start thinking or speaking of her in the past tense. "She's a teacher. She makes her own soaps and lotions. Why would he hurt her?"
He shook his head. "Hopefully, when she regains consciousness, she’ll be able to help us."
More police began to arrive. I shuddered thinking that if Gemma didn’t survive, this would be a murder investigation. But she was going to survive. She was young and strong.
Then, Ian touched my shoulder. "Try to get some sleep. And don't worry. You did a good deed tonight."
I smiled at him. But I didn't feel good. I felt awful. The holiday market was such a happy place. Nothing bad should happen here, not to someone I liked.
Ian didn't know it yet, and he probably never would know it, but he was about to get some very powerful help in finding out who had hurt Gemma.