The Water Witch Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Four Book Paranormal Cozy Mystery Anthology (Sam Short Boxed Sets 1)

by Sam Short

  "Yes," I said, shifting in my seat and ignoring Willow's smile.

  "My hard-line questioning paid off," said Barney. "He obviously realised I wasn't to be messed with, and today he crumbled — he couldn't take the heat I'd brought down on him. He phoned me and told me exactly what I needed to know. Sergeant Cooper's very impressed. He even gave me a coffee break."

  "And what was it that the lawyer told you?" said Granny, giving me a proud look of approval.

  Barney told everyone what Willow and I already knew, and then blew out a frustrated blast of air between his teeth. "That was a waste of time too," he said. "We'd already questioned her when Sam's body had been found, but she'd failed to mention they were getting a divorce, or that she'd been to see the lawyer."

  Granny slammed her fist down on the table, making everybody jump. "Guilty!" she declared.

  Barney shook his head. "No, she's got a watertight alibi. It transpires that Sam was leaving her for somebody else because she'd been cheating on him for years. She was with the other man on the night Sam was killed, and they've got witnesses. They went out for a meal in Covenhill, and the restaurant staff say they left at half eleven. The taxi driver told us he took them back to the man's house in Covenhill. Sam's wife spent the night there."

  "That smells fishy," said Willow. "Why didn't she tell the police they were getting divorced when you first spoke to her?"

  "Money and shame," said Granny, adjusting her glasses. "She wanted to make sure she kept up the pretence of being his loving wife to ensure she gets all his assets, and she was ashamed that she'd been to the lawyer on the very day he died — to try and keep her dirty cheating hands on his properties and cash."

  "I couldn't have put it better myself," said Barney, making Granny swell with pride.

  "What about the woman Sam was leaving his wife for?" said Mum. "Maybe she killed him."

  "Sam's wife doesn't know who she was, and we can't find any evidence pointing to her," explained Barney. "We're working on the theory that she never even existed. We think it was a smoke screen so Sam could finally leave his wife. She refused to leave him because she'd lose out on his money, so maybe Sam was stuck in an unbearable situation and needed a way out."

  "What about gambling?" I said. "Did you find out if he's in debt?"

  "There's no evidence of it," said Barney. "But serial gamblers don't tend to leave paper trails. It's all hearsay at the moment, but we really want to speak to the man we're looking for. Maybe Sam owed him money."

  "What a wicked web we weave," murmured Granny. "Anyway. Enough of this doom and gloom. Maggie, didn't you say you had a bread and butter pudding in the oven? I'm still peckish."

  With the bread and butter pudding demolished, and everyone beginning to get tired, I decided to cycle back to my boat and see to Rosie's needs. I refused the offer of a lift from Barney, and reassured everyone that I'd be all right on my own for the night.

  Granny followed me out of the cottage as I was leaving and watched me getting my bike out of mum's car. "So, you made a spell work. You got that lawyer's tongue to wag."

  "It wasn't so hard," I said. "Not as hard as you said it would be, anyway."

  Granny shook her head. "Those spells are difficult, give yourself some credit. Some of them even I've never mastered. You did well. You're going to be a powerful witch someday, Penelope. It won't be long before Maeve gives you your entry spell if you carry on as you are. Just keep practicing, and remember that once a spell is imprinted in your mind, you'll never need to learn it again."

  "Unless I get witch dementia," I smiled, freeing a pedal from the lip of the car boot.

  "My spells are still up here," said Granny, tapping the side of her head with a finger. "They're just more muddled up than your relationship with Barney is."

  "There is no relationship with Barney," I said, looking away. "Just a friendly one."

  "You'd better tell him that," said Granny. "Didn't you see the way that cute little freckly face of his lit up when he knew he could sit next to you?"

  I sighed and swung my leg over the bike. "I'm going now, Granny."

  "I'll bring Boris to your boat first thing in the morning, and don't you dare leave without him."

  "You have my word," I said.

  "Good. It will give me chance to drive into Covenhill without worrying about him. I need to buy one of those computer things."

  I took my foot off the pedal and stared at her. "What in the name of the goddess do you need with a computer? You said the manufacturers rape the land for the rare elements they need to make them."

  "It's not a crime to have a change of opinion," said Granny, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Anyway, it's not for me. It's for Boris."

  "Two questions. Why are you paying for a computer for Boris, and why does a goat even need a computer?"

  "I'm not paying for it," said Granny. "Boris is letting me take Charleston's credit card. He's a very wealthy man — the acupuncture was more of a hobby than a job. He didn't need the money if his bank balance is anything to go by. He wants to start one of those blog thingy's, I'm not really sure what they are, but Boris is very excited at the prospect."

  "But he can't use a computer. He's got hooves!"

  "Precisely what I said," agreed Granny. "Boris came up with a solution though — voice recognition software. He just needs to speak to the computer, it all sounds very clever."

  "It all sounds like madness," I countered.

  "You let me and Boris do what we like, young lady. Anyway, a new hobby will do him good. He's far too fond of the brandy, he needs something to keep him occupied."

  "You said brandy couldn't harm his body, what's the problem?"

  "He can still get drunk, and he gets a little ... problematic, when he's three sheets to the wind."

  The conversation was becoming too surreal. "I'm going, Granny," I said. "As much as I'd like to stand here all evening talking about an alcoholic tech savvy goat, I want to be back at my boat before it gets dark."

  Granny waved me off, reminding me with a scowl that I wasn't to leave without Boris in the morning. I pedalled quickly, and within fifteen minutes I was leaning my bike up against a picnic bench and patting Mabel on the head as she sniffed at my boots.

  I stepped aboard the Water Witch and grabbed some incense from one of the shop shelves as I passed, lighting it on top of the wood burner, and giving Rosie a belly rub before feeding her and settling down at the dinette table with the spell book.

  I chose a spell that sounded like it could be useful, and silently read the symbols and letters until my head throbbed. Sucking a small amount of air into my mouth, I tasted copper and concentrated on making the wilting plant in a pot on the kitchen counter come back to life.

  A searing pain made me gasp, and I slammed the book shut, making Rosie jump. Granny had been right – some spells were much harder than others.

  When the pain in my head had subsided, I opened the book again and read a few random spells, my head throbbing, but not hurting, as the symbols imprinted themselves on me. Any spells that began making my head hurt I ignored, and went onto the next one. After twenty minutes of study I closed the book, placed it in the storage area beneath the dinette seat, and prepared myself for bed. Maybe I would get to visit the haven sooner than I'd imagined, I certainly felt more magical, and I was beginning to understand how exciting it must be to finally be granted the entry spell.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Granny and Boris arrived at the boat ten minutes after Susie and Willow had arrived together. I knew better than to ask Granny how she'd managed to get Boris into her car — it would probably have been very intolerant of me to assume a man in goat's body couldn't mange the simple task of sitting in a car. Boris had a collar around his neck, and Granny held onto the end of a dog leash as she guided him across the clearing. Boris's beard was just as Granny had promised, and a small piece of red ribbon was tied around the tightly woven plait. The goat — or man. I still hadn’t quite made my mind
up — looked happy enough to be led by Granny, but I still confronted her about the new development in her treatment of Boris.

  "What are you doing?" I said. "Surely Boris doesn't like being led around like your pet?"

  Boris spoke for them both as Granny removed the backpack she was carrying and placed it on one of the picnic benches. "It was my idea, Penelope," he said. "To avoid arousing suspicion from any quarter today, I suggested the dog leash. If you're going to be taking me to a public place it seems sensible to treat me like this. You might receive unwanted attention otherwise. I mean, it's not many goats that walk side by side with their owners around a field full of vintage cars, now, is it?"

  He had a point. "Okay," I relented, "but you just let me know if that collar starts hurting you."

  "That collar won't hurt!" spat Granny. "It was the most expensive one in the pet shop. It's a comfort fit."

  "And very nice it is too," said Boris. "I think the red breaks up the white of my hair, and it matches the ribbon in my beard."

  Granny placed an affectionate hand on the goat's head. "You're sure to win the competition, Boris. You look like a million dollars."

  "Gladys has cleared a space on the mantelpiece for the trophy, just in case I win," said Boris. "The last trophy I won was for being in the winning crew in the boat race against Cambridge university. I love boats, and I can hardly wait to get aboard yours, Penelope."

  "Come on then," said Susie, arriving at my side. "I'll show you aboard, Boris."

  As Susie led Boris to the bow of the boat and helped him negotiate himself aboard, Granny passed me the little backpack. "There's a little bottle of brandy in there," she said. "Give him a sip before the competition – it will give him confidence. There's some chocolate biscuits in there too, and a brush for his hair. You make sure he wins that competition, Penelope. He may not show it, but he's got his heart set on coming first."

  I took the bag and smiled as Granny looked over my shoulder, watching Boris as he disappeared down the steps into the shop. "You really like him, don't you?" I said.

  Granny sighed. "It's lovely having an educated man, I mean goat, around the house. I hadn't realised how lonely I was until Boris moved in with me. You be sure to look after him today, Penelope. I'm holding you accountable for his safety."

  "He'll be fine," I promised. "Now you go and buy his computer for him. I'll bring him back to you tonight."

  Granny waved at Boris as he peered through one of the boat's windows. "Have fun, Boris!" she called.

  "I will!" came the muffled reply.

  Granny turned her back and hurried toward the footpath to the hotel and car park. "Don't bring him back too late," she shouted. 'I'm cooking for him!"

  When Granny had vanished into the trees, I stepped aboard the boat, lifted the engine hatch in the stern deck and checked the oil levels. Willow untied the mooring ropes and joined me next to the steering tiller as I prepared to start the engine.

  Susie appeared at the bottom of the steps that led from my bedroom, with Boris behind her. "Don't you dare start her up without us," she said. "Boris really wants to watch."

  With all four of us standing on the stern decking, it was crowded, but we had enough to room to move about. Boris watched as I turned the key in the ignition and pressed the engine start button.

  "What a beautiful sound," he shouted over the noise as the old diesel engine burst into life, vibrating beneath our feet. "They don't make them like that anymore!"

  He was right. The engine in my boat was from the nineteen sixties, and it chugged away at a far slower pace than modern diesel engines.

  Willow had given the boat a small push as she'd jumped aboard, and we were already floating slowly away from the bank.

  I pulled the control lever backwards, putting the gearbox in reverse, and the propeller churned the water behind us as I grabbed the long steering tiller and began reversing the boat onto the main body of the canal.

  "Well done!" shouted Boris, as I manoeuvred the long boat. "You're quite the expert!"

  As the bow cleared the turning to my mooring, I put the boat in neutral and straightened up as the boat continued to float backwards.

  "Can I have a go of driving?" asked Susie, stroking Rosie, who sat on the roof in front of us.

  "Of course," I promised, "just let me get us going."

  Looking down the long roof, past the potted plants and the chimney, I aimed the bow of the boat and selected forward gear. The engine throbbed beneath us, and the boat began slowly gaining speed as water churned white behind us. With a speed limit of four miles an hour imposed on the canal system, we were never going to break any speed records, but we chugged along at a pleasant pace, and I stood aside to let Susie take the controls.

  "Push the tiller in the opposite direction than you want to go," I explained, as Susie steered us towards an overhanging branch.

  She straightened the boat up, and Boris gazed around happily at the fields that took the place of trees on the opposite bank. The bank on our side of the canal was lined with walls and cliffs which homes and shops sat on top of, with people in some of the gardens who waved cheerily at us as we passed.

  Steam rose from the Wickford brewery chimney, and the smell of yeast in the air made Willow scrunch up her face in disgust. "That's why I don't drink beer," she said. "It's horrible."

  "There's nothing like a real ale on a Sunday afternoon," countered Boris, sniffing the aroma. "It's an acquired taste, but when you acquire it, it will be with you for life."

  Susie kept the boat in a straight line, and slowed down as we passed moored boats, preventing our bow wave from disturbing them. It would take an hour to get to the car show, and we had one lock to negotiate on the way. We passed under one of the bridges that attached one side of Wickord to the other, and Willow dragged her hand down the stone walls as we chugged beneath it, the engine echoing in the confined space. The canal beneath the bridges was barely wide enough for my boat, and any boats coming in the opposite direction would have had to give way and wait for us to pass under the bridge before continuing their journey.

  "Would you mind if I went to the bow deck?" said Boris. "I can't drive with these hooves, so I'm just taking up space back here."

  Willow laughed. "Come on, I'll go with you," she said, leading Boris down the steps into my bedroom.

  They walked the length of the boat before emerging on the bow deck, sixty feet in front of us. I leaned out and looked down the side of the boat, smiling as Boris planted both hooves on the tip of the bow and held his head high in the air. “Are you having fun?” I yelled.

  "I'm on top of the world!" he shouted, eliciting giggles from me and Susie.

  Ducks and swans swam alongside us, and soon we approached the area of canal where Sam had met his untimely end.

  A small cliff rose from the towpath on our left, and we passed beneath the Lock and Key pub, saying a few words for Sam as we spotted the police tape still wrapped around a tree trunk, the other end floating in the margins of the canal.

  "The lock's just past the next bridge," I said to Susie, trying to take my thoughts off the murder. "Do you want to go ashore and operate it, or shall I ask Willow?"

  "I'll do it!" said Susie.

  We passed beneath the final bridge in Wickford, and the lock came into sight a hundred metres to our front. I slowed the boat as we approached it, and Susie grabbed the windlass she'd need to open the gates. The windlass was an L-shaped metal tool that was used as a winding lever to operate the heavy lock gates, and I winced as I imagined how it had felt for Sam, if he had indeed been murdered with one.

  As the boat neared the bank, Susie prepared to leap ashore, and when the gap was only a few inches she made the jump and hurried to the first set of gates. Boris and Willow joined me on the stern deck as I steered the boat towards the entrance to the lock, and stood either side of me as I moved the boat forward. The lock was set in our favour, with the first set of gates open and the second set holding back the water in the
canal above us.

  The walls of the lock loomed fifteen feet above us on either side of the boat, with barely three inches between the hull and the stonework. Soon, Susie would close the gates behind us and open the gates in front of us, flooding the lock with water and turning the high walls into the low banks of the canal.

  When the boat was safely clear of the gates behind us, Susie used the windlass to operate the gate mechanism, trapping us between the two sets of thick nineteenth century wooden gates. She waved as she climbed the grassy hill and shouted down to us. "Ready?" she asked.

  "Go on," I shouted, "open them!"

  As the gates to our front opened, the boat floated upwards like a cork in a glass being filled with water. I kept the engine engaged in forward gear, applying just enough power to prevent the wash of incoming water pushing us backwards, and soon we were floating fifteen feet above the stretch of the canal behind us, with the rest of the canal stretching ahead of us.

  I pulled the boat ashore a few metres past the gates, and waited for Susie to get back aboard, a big smile on her face and the windlass safely in her hand. With everyone aboard, I pulled away from the bank and we continued our journey, admiring the beautiful countryside that had opened up on both banks.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Boris gasped as we rounded the bend in the canal and the festival fields opened up on our left. "Wow," he said. "That's quite a sight."

  It was quite a sight, and quite a smell. Chrome shone and twinkled for hundreds of metres as the sun bounced off the rows and rows of cars, and the scent of frying onions and bacon wafted through the air from the assorted vans and stalls selling hot food of all kinds.

  More delicious cooking aromas drifted from the line of colourful boats that were moored up alongside the canal bank, and the sound of children's laughter, and music coming from the big tent in the middle of the field lifted my spirits. I was going to enjoy myself, I realised with a smile.