by Adele Abbott
“No. That’s all sorted now. One of the other flatmates has swapped rooms with me, but thanks for your help, anyway. When I came to the meeting with Dreams—err—I mean Caroline, you mentioned the woman who had talked about her husband being a wizard.”
“Mary Dole, yes. What about her?”
“I managed to trace her, but she won’t speak to me. Is there any chance you could contact her on my behalf, and see if you can persuade her to talk to me? Explain to her that I’m not trying to make her look silly. I’m just trying to corroborate what Margie has already told me.”
Greg was a little hesitant at first, but in the end, agreed to try. “I’ll give her a call, but if she says no, then no it is.”
“Okay.”
An hour later, he called back.
“I’ve spoken to Mary, and she’s agreed to speak to you tomorrow.”
“That’s great. Thanks very much.”
“Just a minute. There are two conditions.”
“What are they?”
“Firstly, the conversation must be strictly off the record.”
“Okay. That’s fine.”
“And secondly, that I’m with you when you talk to her.”
“Sure, no problem.”
***
The next day, Susan met up with Greg, and together they went to visit Mary Dole at her house.
“Hello, Greg,” Mary greeted him with a smile.
“This is Susan Hall.” Greg stepped aside.
Mary’s welcoming smile evaporated when she turned to Susan.
“Come through to the lounge. Have a seat.”
Once they were all seated, Mary said, “Before we start, I told Greg that this has to be off the record, otherwise I’m not doing it.”
“I understand.” Susan nodded. “I’m curious though why you’re so reluctant to talk about the experience?”
“When Gordon disappeared, I was desperate to talk to someone who might understand. The police weren’t interested, so I thought I might get a better hearing from PAW. And to be fair, I did. But I soon realised that most people outside of PAW don’t want to know the truth. Whenever I told someone what had happened, the reaction was always the same. They looked at me as though I was completely insane. I was worried that if I continued to tell my story, I’d be in danger of losing my friends, and maybe even my job, so I decided it was better to keep it to myself.”
“What exactly did happen to your husband?” Susan asked.
“Gordon and I had only been married for three years. We were both in our late thirties when we met. He was different from any other man I’d ever known. He was kind and very funny, but I always felt as though he was hiding something. Nothing sinister, but he seemed to have secrets. And then, over a period of time, I noticed a few things that just didn’t seem right. He’d do little things when he thought I wasn’t looking; things that seemed almost fantastical.”
“What kind of things?” Susan was eager to get more detail.
“There was one occasion when we went into a homeware shop in Washbridge, and I saw a chest of drawers which I really liked. When we got out to the car, they wouldn’t fit in it. I was getting a bit stressed out, when suddenly, Gordon did something. I didn’t see what. But the next thing I knew, they slid into the car with room to spare. It was as though he’d shrunk them somehow. I know that sounds daft.”
“Couldn’t it just be that he turned them around, and put them in a different way?” Greg suggested.
“No. We’d tried to put them in every which way, and they simply wouldn’t fit. When I asked him how he’d done it, he just shrugged. When we got back home, and took them out of the car, they were back to their original size. It was just weird. And then, there was the time when we were walking down the street, and a young girl on a bicycle came flying past. She seemed to have lost control, and was headed straight for the busy road at the bottom of the hill. The next thing I knew, Gordon had rushed down the street, and caught her just before she reached the road.”
“Surely that was just instinctive,” Greg said.
“Of course it was. But there was no way he should have been able to catch up with her. One moment he was standing next to me, and the next, he was at the bottom of the road. He moved so fast he was a blur. There were other weird things, too. One day, he was working on the car. He’d crawled under it to do something to the exhaust. I was sitting outside in the sun when suddenly I heard the jack creak and give way. I screamed. I thought that was the end for Gordon, but somehow he managed to hold the car up, and crawl out unscathed.”
“You do sometimes hear stories of people who find remarkable strength when something terrible happens,” Susan said.
“But it wasn’t like that. It took no effort at all for him to support the full weight of the car. I confronted him about it, and demanded to know what was going on. That’s when he sat me down and told me the truth. I didn’t know what to think. I mean, what would you think if your husband told you he was a wizard? I thought wizards only existed in books or films. But he insisted it was true, and that he actually came from another land—a place called Candlefield where all manner of paranormal creatures live. And to prove it, he showed me all kinds of magic until I had to accept that what he’d said was true. He told me I must never tell anyone because if the authorities back in Candlefield ever found out, they’d send people to take him back. ‘Rogue Retrievers’ he called them. Of course, I promised I’d never say anything, and I didn’t. But somehow, the authorities must have found out because he was taken away from me.”
“Did you actually see them take him?” Susan asked.
“No. I was visiting my sister at the time. I’d only been gone for a couple of hours, but when I came back, he’d gone. I thought at first he’d just gone out to the shops or was visiting friends. When night fell, and there was still no sign of him, I called the police, but they weren’t interested. They said he was an adult, and that they couldn’t do anything until he’d been missing for some time. I contacted them again a few days later, and they said the chances were he’d probably walked out, and that people left relationships all the time.”
“Could that have been what happened?” Susan said.
“No. We were perfectly happy. There’s no way he walked out on me. I’m absolutely sure he was taken by the Rogue Retrievers back to Candlefield. Gordon wasn’t the only wizard living around here. He told me there are lots of paranormal creatures living here among us in Washbridge.”
After they’d left Mary’s house, Susan and Greg went for a drink in a pub just down the road.
“So?” Greg took a sip of his beer. “What did you make of that?”
“Her story is almost identical to the one Margie told me. In both cases, their husbands told them that they were wizards, and both men disappeared without a trace.”
“Do you believe their stories?”
“To a point. I believe that the men disappeared, and probably didn’t go voluntarily. I’m definitely keen to follow up on the missing person angle.”
“What about the paranormal angle? Surely, you can’t just dismiss that out of hand?”
“How can you expect me to believe that there are wizards, werewolves and vampires living here among us. That’s just ridiculous.”
“Why is it so ridiculous? You thought you had a ghost.”
“I was just sleep deprived. Maybe it’s just a case of mass delusion, I don’t know. But paranormal? Definitely not.”
Chapter 24
Early the next morning, Susan’s phone rang. It was the call she’d been waiting for.
“Ray? What did you find?”
“They’re a match. Now whose prints are they?”
“Meet me in Aroma in thirty minutes.”
“Why can’t you just tell me now?”
“I have a file that I need to give to you. It has all the information you’ll need on all four murders.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
Thirty minutes later, the two
of them were in Aroma.
“So?” Ray couldn’t hide his impatience. “Whose prints are they?”
“Robert Marks’.”
“The councillor? The guy who’s standing for election as MP?”
“None other.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Does he have the tattoo?”
“Of a crab, you mean? No. There never was a tattoo of a crab.”
“You’re not making any sense, Susan. The guy who was murdered wrote ‘Crab Tattoo’ in his blood.”
“I know. I believe that there were four young men in the pharmacy that night. One of them, Chris Briggs, used to work there before he was sacked. He may still have had a key. The pharmacist must have walked in on them while they were helping themselves to drugs. Marks hit him on the back of the head with a chair—that’s why his fingerprints were on the chair leg. The man fell onto the glass cabinet, and severed an artery. While he was lying on the floor, he must have seen the legs of the four boys who were all wearing shorts. These four friends all had similar tattoos on their legs. A circle with their initial inside it: ‘C’ for Chris Briggs, ‘R’ for Richy or Richard Price, ‘A’ for Alan Charlton and ‘B’ for Bob Marks, as he was known back then. The dying man saw the four letters which spelt the word ‘CRAB’.”
“Why didn’t he just write Briggs’ name?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they were wearing masks. He was flat out on the floor; the only thing he would have got a good look at was their legs.”
“You said the murderer had killed four men?”
“Yes. Marks has ambitions to be an MP, so he couldn’t afford for his past to come back and bite him in the bum. It was easy for him to get rid of his own tattoo. If you check, I’m sure you’ll find that it’s been removed by laser. It was more difficult to ensure the silence of the other three men. The only way to guarantee they didn’t talk was to get rid of them permanently. He couldn’t afford to do it all at one time. No matter how carefully he’d planned it, the death of three men in a short period of time would have sounded alarm bells. Instead, he played the long game. Firstly, four years ago, he killed Richard Price. I’m not sure exactly how he did it, but it was made to look like a road traffic accident. According to Price’s widow, blood was found at the scene. Blood which did not match her husband’s. My guess is that a DNA check will match it to Marks. Also, in this file you’ll find an article that The Bugle ran about Marks which is dated two days after Price died. Marks appeared at a fundraising dinner with cuts and bruises to his head. At the time he said he had sustained the injuries when he fell from a ladder. I think it’s more likely that they came from the car crash which he somehow orchestrated.
Then, two years ago, Alan Charlton died in a climbing accident. He was supposed to have been climbing with someone. There were actually witnesses who said they saw him with another man. But when his body was found, he was alone; there was no sign of his climbing companion. There’s another article in this file from the Bugle taken from around the date that Charlton died. The reporters at The Bugle had been trying to get hold of Marks for a comment on a last minute, controversial change to the council’s budget. They were unable to contact him because he was ‘incognito’. According to his representative, Marks was on vacation, but no one seemed to know where. My guess is he was in the Peak District with Alan Charlton. If you can get hold of the witnesses who thought they’d seen someone with Charlton that day, I suspect they’ll be able to identify that person as Marks.
And last, but not least, is poor old Chris Briggs. He supposedly committed suicide recently by jumping off the multi-storey car park. I have nothing to link Marks with his death, but I’d bet my life he was behind it. As a councillor, he had access to the fifth floor and roof of the car park directly from his offices. He could have taken Briggs up to the roof without it ever being caught on CCTV.”
Her brother looked stunned. “This is going to take some time to check out.”
“The story runs in The Bugle tomorrow.”
“At least wait until we’ve had a chance to investigate it properly. Let the police do their job.”
“The police have had ten years, Ray, and so far, nothing’s come of it. I’m not going to wait because if I do, the story will get out, and all the other papers will run it. This is a big story for The Bugle, and we’re going to break it first. It will be in tomorrow’s edition.”
“But if you’re wrong—”
“I’m not.”
When Susan got back to The Bugle, Flynn called her into his office. “Are you absolutely sure about this story?”
“Positive.”
“If we run it and you’re wrong, it’ll be the end of this paper. You do realise that, don’t you?”
“You’ve seen the file, Flynn. All the evidence is there. His fingerprints are on the chair—he killed the pharmacist, and most likely killed his three friends too.”
Flynn took a deep breath. “Okay. We’ll run it tomorrow.”
Susan stayed late at the office, and before she left, picked up an early mock-up of the next day’s paper. The headline was ‘MP is Crab Tattoo Murderer.’ The article focussed on the ten-year-old murder of the pharmacist for which there was the most compelling evidence. It mentioned the other deaths, but didn’t make any direct accusations against Marks. The article was everything she’d hoped it would be, and more. If this didn’t get The Bugle noticed for the right reasons, she didn’t know what would.
As she left the office, she bumped into Tom Wallace.
“Why are you always hanging around here?” she said, accusingly.
“You do realise that my office is only two doors down?”
“Oh, right. No, sorry, I didn’t.”
“Anyway, I’m glad I’ve bumped into you,” he said. “I thought you’d like to see our headline for tomorrow’s paper. This is what a real newspaper is all about.” He held up the early edition of In The Wash. The headline read: ‘Police Chief Implicated in Extortion Racket.’
That immediately rang a bell with Susan. It was the story that Manic had tried to give to her. Had he taken it to Wallace? Had Wallace paid Manic?
“What do you think?” Wallace said. “Are you beginning to regret not joining us?”
“Not really.” She opened her bag, and pulled out the mock-up of The Bugle.
“Read it and weep.”
When he saw the headline, his face fell.
“See you around, Tom.”
***
The next morning, the other three housemates were already in the lounge when Susan emerged from her bedroom after a well-deserved lie-in.
“I see you’ve got the big story you were hoping for.” Neil was holding a copy of that morning’s Bugle.
“Solved a murder and brought down Washbridge’s would-be MP.” Charlie flashed Susan that big smile of his. “I just heard on the radio news that Marks has been arrested. Congrats!”
“Not bad.” Dorothy managed, rather less enthusiastically.
“Thanks, guys.” Susan took a seat on the sofa next to Charlie.
“Your new bosses must be pleased with you,” Charlie said.
“I guess so. Now all I have to do is find more stories like this one.”
“Easier said than done, I imagine.” Neil put the paper down.
“That’s true. Still, if all else fails, I suppose I could always do a story on Margie, Mary, and the missing wizards.”
The others looked at her in horror.
Susan laughed. “But then the men in white coats would have to come and take me away.”
Susan Hall is on the lookout for the next big story...
...in the next book in the Susan Hall Mysteries.
Whoops! All The Money Went Missing
The Washbridge banks are in big trouble – all of their money has gone missing. If Susan can uncover what has happened, it will be The Bugle’s biggest story yet. But there are other things on Susan’s mind. Like witc
hes, werewolves and vampires. Even though she knows they can’t possibly exist.
ALSO FROM ADELE ABBOTT:
The Witch P.I. Mysteries
Set in the same world as the Susan Hall Mysteries (Washbridge/Candlefield), the Witch P.I. Mysteries follow the adventures of Jill Gooder (P.I. and witch extraordinaire).
Witch Is When It All Began