But… the faint wisp of woodsmoke tickled her nostrils.
Perhaps the fire alarm hadn’t simply been set off when The Pointy Woman made her getaway through a fire door. Maybe there genuinely was a fire?
Grabbing her paperwork from the counter, she hooked her bag securely over her head and ran through the front door. Once outside she was met by the stronger, more acrid stench of burning plastic. It permeated the air and coated her throat when she breathed in.
Her stomach rolled.
Ed hurried towards her, a quizzical expression on his face. “Is everything alright? What’s going on?” he asked. “Is that a fire alarm?”
“It is the fire alarm, yes. Something in the kennels must be burning.”
“We need to call this in.” He pulled his radio from his pocket.
She grabbed his arm. “But Ed! The Pointy Woman was here.”
He scrunched his face up in confusion. “Who?”
“My Aunt Miranda. Who isn’t actually my Aunt. I saw her on the security screen—” Clarissa babbled, pointing back inside. “The woman who killed Joseph. She must have broken into the kennels. She went out of a side door.”
“I did see someone leaving,” he said. “I didn’t realise… They came around the corner and hurried away.”
Clarissa grabbed his arm. “Never mind that now. You have to help me find Toby.”
“Let me call this in first.” Ed thumbed his radio.
Clarissa tried to quell the panic that threatened to overtake her senses, but hardly able to breathe, she knew she couldn’t hang around any longer. Desperate to search for Toby, she rushed back into reception and lifted the gate that allowed entrance to the rear of the room. The office door stood ajar. In Clarissa’s absence, Sue Mitchelmore had obviously taken the opportunity to make good her escape.
The wailing of the fire alarm grew louder. Clarissa yanked open the door that led into the kennels but rapidly reared back. The acrid stench of smoke made her gag. Her eyes smarted and watered. Summoning every ounce of courage, she dashed out into the yard and found herself faced by four single-storey buildings. Labelled A, B, C and D, none of them were obviously ‘the surgery’.
As Clarissa hopped from foot to foot, paralysed by indecision, the door to Kennel D opened and Selma tumbled out, leading nine dogs on leads including a German Shepherd, while carrying a small black and tan puppy with pointy ears.
“Selma?” Clarissa hailed her. “Where will I find Toby?”
Selma nodded to her right. “Through Block A, straight through and out the back door. There’s a small set of holding pens out there. They’re attached to the surgery—”
“Thank you.” Clarissa darted forwards.
“But you can’t go in there!” Selma shrieked after her. “I can see from here. The roof is alight!”
Clarissa had no choice. She shrugged the older woman’s words away, running into Kennel A. Here she found two lines of pens, one on each side of a central run. Half of them contained dogs. The smoke had invaded the building, although there appeared to be no obvious sign of fire.
Until you looked up.
Selma had been right. Flames flicked along the beams above Clarissa’s head, and the flimsy lining of the roof was fully ablaze. Ash and pieces of material began to drift downwards like snow. The dogs below barked and yelped, terrified by the onset of heat and increasing crackle of the flames.
“It’s okay,” Clarissa called to the dog nearest her, but even her voice trembled. “I’ll get you out.”
She started forward to the first pen and slapped the lock sideways. The gate swung open and a Jack Russell darted out into the run, barking furiously.
“Go that way!” Clarissa pointed at the door through which she’d only entered a moment before, but it had slammed closed in her wake. The poor Jack Russell pawed at the door to be let out, whining hysterically. Clarissa would have to waste precious time and go back.
As she turned to do so the door was wrenched open. Ed stood there; his face furious. “Clarissa, you have to get out of here. The fire service are on their way. Let’s leave it to them.”
“No!” Clarissa shouted back, fighting to make herself heard about the screaming of the fire alarm and the barking of the terrified animals. “I have to save these dogs. Wedge that door open for me, so they can get out.”
She turned away from him, not waiting to see if he would do as she’d asked. Material from the lining of the roof floated in the air at eye height, burning red and orange and black in turn, before crumbling to grey dust and drifting to the floor. She brushed smuts away from her cheek, then raised her hands, tracing a large circle in the space around her. In a quiet but firm voice she intoned, “Take a breath, or two, or three, and do not think to offend me. By the goddess Vesta’s love and faith, through this passage keep me safe.”
So mote it be, she muttered, as she moved to the next gate to release a sweet looking Cockerpoo, then on to a Staffordshire Bull Terrier, and on again to a Labrador cross.
Detritus dropped steadily around her, but under the protection of Vesta, she might have been walking beneath a giant umbrella. She slammed open lock after lock until all of the dogs were free. None of them needed any coaxing. As one, they’d quietened as she cast her spell, waiting patiently for her to reach them in turn, then calmly they slunk out into the run. Glancing back she spotted Ed, shielding his head with his jacket, shepherding the last dog into the relative safety of the yard, where Selma waited to escort them into reception.
With all the dogs safe, Clarissa ran for the door at the far end of the kennel, pushing through it and into a small yard beyond.
Toby stood on his hind legs, his front paws resting on the wire fence that surrounded his small pen, his eyes rolling with fear. His ears perked up immediately when he spotted Clarissa.
“You came!” he shouted. “I thought you’d forgotten me.”
Clarissa threw herself against the fence. She could see no gate here, no lock, no obvious way to free him. “I promised you,” she told him. “I always keep my promises.” She slapped the fence hard. “How do I get you out of here?”
“There’s only one entry. That’s through the surgery behind me. You have to go around to the side door.” Toby pointed with his nose to the left. “Around there. Up the ramp.”
“Okay. Hold on. I’ll be right with you.”
Toby looked up at the blaze in front of him, wondering how long it would take the flames to jump from one roof to another.” “Hurry,” he urged Clarissa.
Clarissa dashed around the side of the building, heading for the pale blue wooden door at the top of a gradual incline. A simple hand-painted sign bore the legend, The Surgery.
Clarissa thundered up the ramp and twisted the handle.
Locked.
She wrenched it more violently, but it refused to give.
“No!” she shrieked in horror. It could not be locked.
Ed arrived next to her, breathing hard, his face flushed with the heat. He quickly appraised the situation. “Stand back!” he shouted, and Clarissa leapt aside.
Ed reversed a couple of steps then threw himself at the door, shoulder first, hitting it where he knew the hinge must be. The door rattled but did not give. He tried a second time. Finally, on the third attempt, he delivered a hefty kick to the area near the door handle instead and the door flew away from him, hit the wall behind and blew back at them.
Clarissa pumped her fist in approval. “You’ve done that before.” Pushing the door inwards, she hurled herself inside, Ed on her heels.
They found themselves in the consulting room of the veterinary surgery. Neat and tidy, a large stainless-steel table dominated the centre of the room. Cabinets with stainless steel doors graced the walls. The whole place smelled vaguely medicinal with a hint of disinfectant. There were no photographs of past patients or colourful posters to cheer up the owners of the patients. No flowers or jars of treats. This was a depressingly functional veterinary surgery.
; Clarissa swiftly took stock. She identified the three doors to her left as the entrances to the surgery kennels. A kind of canine death row, no doubt. Today at least, only Toby occupied one of those spaces. She recalled seeing him in the middle pen. With fingers that shook, more with adrenaline than from fear now, she slid open barrel bolts at the top and bottom of the door, and then twisted the handle. The door opened inward, away from her, and there behind it was Toby. He peered up at her, eyes screwed up in defence of the smoke, his fluffy concerned face full of love and gratitude, then with one enormous leap he flew into Clarissa’s arms.
She burrowed her face in his fur. “I’ll never let you go again,” she promised him.
“Please don’t!” he begged.
“You’ve got him?” Ed looked over her shoulder and reached out to fuss Toby’s ears. “Attaboy.” He checked the other doors but as Clarissa had noted, the other pens were empty. “We need to get out of here.” Throwing his jacket over Clarissa’s head, he rearranged it so that it shielded both Toby and the young witch.
Clarissa didn’t feel it was the time or place to tell him she and Toby were already protected, thanks to her magick. Instead she smiled her gratitude. Ed was a good man.
“Let’s get you two out of here,” he said, wrapping a defensive arm around Clarissa.
They turned and began to retrace their steps.
“Lovely morning for it!” Mrs Crouch, the sweet old lady from next door, leaned over the fence to peer down at her new neighbour.
Clarissa, on her hands and knees attempting to weed a border, adjusted the battered straw hat she’d unearthed among Old Joe’s gardening implements in the shed and smiled up at the much older lady. The sun beat down on them, although Mrs Crouch appeared as cool as a cucumber and wore a pretty white cardigan over her pale salmon-coloured summer dress.
“It is,” Clarissa agreed. Clapping her hands together so she could shake off some of the earth clinging to her gardening gloves, she stood up so she could chat properly.
“You’re doing a great job of tidying all this up.” Mrs Crouch looked around appreciatively.
Clarissa shook her head in wonder and wiped at the sweat on her brow. “I’ve never had a garden before, so I’m really pleased with how it’s turning out. Of course, it helps that Old Joe left such a wonderful template. It’s easy just to follow him around and tidy up what had become slightly unkempt.”
“You’re too modest. There’s still a knack to it, my dear.” Mrs Crouch glanced around. “It all looks beautiful.” She pointed at a sign next to the door. Clarissa had arranged for a new house name to be etched onto grey slate. The word ‘Silverwinds’ had been picked out in black. “And you named your house after Old Joe?”
After all of us actually, thought Clarissa. After the coven she belonged to, just as her father and Old Joe and everyone who preceded them had belonged. But she simply nodded.
“A lovely gesture,” Mrs Crouch replied breezily. “And where’s that young hound of yours? I’ve a few biscuits for him.”
On hearing the word biscuit, Toby abandoned the old ball he’d been destroying and shuffled out on his belly from under the bushes, covered in seeds and dried petals, his ears inside out.
Clarissa laughed and straightened them up for him. “You spoil this silly hound,” she chastised Mrs Crouch playfully. Toby jumped up against the fence and wagged his tail.
“Yes please and thank you,” he said. “I hope these are your homemade cheesy ones because they’re my favourites.”
“It’s almost like he’s talking.” Mrs Crouch sounded delighted. “These are my cheese ones, Toby. I know you like those.”
“You should do. I’ve told you often enough.” Toby took one gently between his front teeth as Clarissa hid a smile.
“You really shouldn’t,” Clarissa protested. “Don’t get him used to all these delicious biscuits.”
“Used to them? You’re not thinking of selling are you?” Mrs Crouch’s face fell. “It’s so lovely having someone in here after the house standing empty all those months. And having Toby back again, of course. Old Joe did dote on him so.”
“Selling? Goodness me, no. We like it here, don’t we, babe?” Clarissa asked Toby.
He blinked at her. “Babe? I’m not a baby. And yes we do.”
“Hey?” A voice from beyond the closed gate. Edward Plum stood there, waiting patiently to be noticed. He held a bunch of flowers and a small gift bag up. “May I come in?”
“DC Plum.” Clarissa was surprised to see him. “Of course. Can you manage?”
“I’ll leave you lovely folk to it,” Mrs Crouch smiled. “And catch you later Clarissa.”
“Alright Mrs Crouch. Thank you. We’ll grab a cuppa and a natter sometime soon.” Clarissa waved at her neighbour and trotted over to the gate to undo the latch for the police officer. As soon as her back was turned, Mrs Crouch leaned over the fence and dropped another couple of biscuits for Toby.
“Don’t tell her,” Mrs Crouch whispered to him.
“I won’t,” Toby promised. “But my silence will cost you more biscuits tomorrow.”
Mrs Crouch giggled like a schoolgirl and disappeared inside her house. Toby spun around to welcome the newcomer at his gate.
“Call me Ed,” DC Plum was reminding Clarissa, as she latched the gate closed behind him. “Hello boy! What have you got there?”
“Mrs Crouch is feeding him cheesy dog biscuits and giving him far too many when she thinks I’m not looking. He’ll be the size of the back end of a bus if he’s not careful.”
“After all that time he spent in those awful kennels I suppose he’s allowed to be a little bit spoilt,” Ed suggested.
“Well thank you, DC Plum. At least someone recognises that pain and trauma I’ve been through.” Toby sniffed.
“Oh hush you.” Clarissa scolded.
Ed regarded the dog thoughtfully, pondering what he was trying to communicate, but at a loss, he shook his head and handed the flowers over to Clarissa. “These are for you. A housewarming. Admittedly they’re slightly late.”
“They are lovely, thank you.” Clarissa led the way up the side of the house to where the back door stood open. “Yes, I’ve been in for about four weeks now. It’s not quite finalised, but there seemed to be no harm in taking up residence now.” She stepped inside, glad of the coolness within. “Come on in. I could do with a drink. Would you like tea or coffee? I was going to have juice.”
“Juice is fine with me.” Ed followed her into the kitchen and watched as she pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.
“I’d prefer water,” Toby said.
“You have water down already.” Clarissa pointed at his bowl.
“But it’s not fresh,” he complained. “I want fresh water straight out of the tap.”
Clarissa abandoned the carton on the work surface and bent down to retrieve his bowl. “You are so fussy.”
“There’s nothing worse than drinking out of a bowl that every other dog in the neighbourhood has dipped their snout into. Honestly, you have no idea what they’ve been sniffing.”
“The thing is, it’s only you who’s been drinking out of it.”
“You never know,” Toby replied gravely, glancing around and narrowing his eyes. Clarissa giggled and placed the fresh water in front of him. He wagged his tail gratefully.
“It sounds like he’s arguing with you,” Ed smiled.
“Oh he is. Believe me. He’s an argumentative little horror at times.” Clarissa turned her attention back to the juice, opening a cupboard to locate two glasses and filling them both before offering one to Ed. “Would you like some ice?”
“No this is fine. Thank you.” He leaned against the counter and peered about the kitchen, nodding his approval. “It feels quite different in here.”
Clarissa smiled, following his gaze. “I haven’t really changed very much yet. Just given it a good clean. The outside panels being removed from the windows helped a great deal. At some stage
I’d probably like to swap the curtains for blinds and update the furniture, but on my lowly wage that might be a while yet.”
Pointing down at Toby, she added, “Besides… this was Toby’s home before. If I change it too much I’d feel like I was trying to somehow exorcise the spirit of Old Joe.”
“Just take it gradually,” Toby looked up, his beard dripping with water. “It will be fine.”
“So, what can I do for you?” Clarissa indicated they should move through to the living room and Ed followed her, perching on Old Joe’s chair. Toby gave him a hard stare for a moment—how very dare he take Old Joe’s seat—then settled into his basket.
His basket continued to occupy the spot over by the television. Clarissa had covered it in the bedspread from Old Joe’s bed. The scent of the old man had faded a little, but still provided comfort for Toby when he settled down at night.
Old Joe’s chair had retained the prime spot in the living room and faced the television. Clarissa generally opted to relax on the sofa—which she’d now covered in a cheerful hippie throw from a local charity shop—and Toby would snuggle into her in the evening. Also, for the time being at least, Clarissa had taken the back bedroom. Old Joe’s things had been collected into his old bedroom for Clarissa to sort through when she felt the time was right.
Ed inhaled deeply, prepping himself. “I thought I’d better come and fill you in about all the things that have been happening with regards to the various cases you have an interest in.”
“Oh yes?” Clarissa plopped herself down onto the sofa, stealing a quick look at Toby in his basket. Her tone might have sounded light and interested, but the dog sensed her anxiety.
“It’s not good news, I’m afraid.” Ed set his glass down on the rug next to his chair and pulled out his notebook, flicking through a number of pages. “I discussed what you told me about Joseph’s—your grandfather’s—death, but unfortunately there is no evidence that we can pursue at this time in regard to any kind of foul play. The cause of death, as you know, was ascertained to be natural causes, and we have nothing that suggests anything untoward.”
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