by Sam Short
“Hmmm,” said Mavis. “It’s not really suited to such an occasion as this now, is it?”
“I like it. It’s very nice,” said Willow. “Very lilac.”
“Very shiny,” added Penny.
“It makes me feel safe. I haven’t worn it for a long time, but the last time I did was in this very building,” said Ethel, straightening her jacket. “To be honest with you all — I almost didn’t come here today. This place brings back a few bad memories.”
“You’ve been here before?” said Penny, moving aside as Ethel approached the organ.
“A long time ago,” said Ethel, “but I’d rather not talk about it. I would like to talk about that organ though, it’s beautiful. When did you have it installed?”
“Not important. Never mind the irrelevant details,” said Granny, tactfully and skilfully steering the conversation in a different direction. “I’ve got an organist to choose. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Chapter Five
“I hope you’ll pick wisely,” said Mavis. “It is your big day after all, you don’t want anything to go wrong, I’m sure.”
Gladys resisted the urge to grab Mavis by her admittedly lovely perm, and drag her through the doorway, but she wanted Mavis to play. It would be a pleasure to break the news to her that Ethel was the superior player. She’d soon realise that wearing her hair in a snazzy manner would not have any influence over Gladys’s opinion.
Gladys clapped. “You play first, Mavis,” she said. “Start with Here Comes The Bride, please.”
Mavis gave a presumptuous grin, misinterpreting Gladys’s reasoning behind asking her to go first. Gladys wanted to make sure the organ was nicely warmed up for Ethel, but as Mavis gathered her skirt around her bottom and took a seat in front of the organ, she obviously considered being chosen to play first a compliment. She twiddled with some knobs and did something with her feet, and with an unnecessary tilt of her head to the left, began to play.
The Chapel vibrated with sound, and Penny and Willow clapped as Here Comes The Bride boomed from the twelve organ pipes. It did sound good, even Gladys could admit that to herself, and she found herself imagining the walk down the aisle on the arm of her son. A tear threatened to wet her cheek, and Gladys rushed forward and tapped Mavis on the shoulder. “Enough!”
Mavis stopped playing and looked over her shoulder, her pupils dilated and her cheeks red. “It’s a beautiful instrument,” she said. “One of the best I’ve played!”
“Keep your knickers on,” said Gladys. “Don’t get too excited. Let’s see how you deal with Rocket Man. And be forewarned — if you mess up Elton John’s beautiful masterpiece, there’ll be no second chance. The rest of us will go outside to listen. I want to make sure the sound will carry on the wind, I want the music to echo through the valley. Don’t start playing until I shout the order.”
With Mavis’s fingers poised over the keyboard, Penny, Willow and Ethel followed Gladys from the chapel and took a few steps along the footpath towards the canal. With enough distance between them and the building, Gladys gave the command to begin playing. “Play, Mavis!” she screamed.
The music floated from the chapel door, and for a moment, Gladys was back in nineteen-seventy-two, listening to what was to be her favourite song, for the first time. Note after perfect note came one after the other, and Gladys looked at Ethel. “Can you do better?” she said.
“I think Mavis and I are very close in our playing styles,” said Ethel. “I’m not sure there’ll be much of a difference.”
“Humbleness. I like it,” said Gladys. “Now get yourself into the chapel and tell Mavis to step outside. It’s your turn to impress me. Keep playing Rocket Man until I come and tell you to stop, I want to know if I can hear it from the boat. Don’t you let me down, Ethel.”
Ethel hurried up the pathway, and Willow kicked a stone. “You’re taking this very seriously, Granny,” she said. “You’re coming across as mean.”
“Mean breeds obedience,” said Gladys. “I want to get the best I can out of them. There’s no room for sentimentality in the music business.”
“Your picking an organist for your wedding,” said Penny. “Not signing an artist to a record label.”
Before Gladys could explain that Penny would never amount to anything with that attitude, Mavis scurried through the chapel door and made her way towards them. “How did I do? I hope you enjoyed it. The organ made it easier, of course. It really is lovely. I don’t think Ethel will have a chance, she seems nervous, and that… suit she’s wearing really doesn’t belong in a chapel. It’ll put her off her chords.”
Before Mavis could reach them, Ethel began playing, and a smile spread across Gladys’s face. That was how Rocket Man should be played — with the same enthusiasm Elton had put into writing it. If Mavis had been good, Ethel was proving to be excellent.
Gladys didn’t think twice, she waited until Mavis had joined them, took another look at the blue rinse perm, and made her decision. “I think you should go home, Mavis,” she said. “You might have the clothes and the… hair, but you don’t have the dexterous fingers of Ethel, or her ironic dress sense. Asking you to come today was a mistake. I’ll reimburse you for your time, and the petrol you used to drive here, but for you, Mavis Buttersworth, the dream is over.”
“Really?” said Mavis.
“Really?” echoed Penny.
“Granny,” said Willow. “That’s awful of you.”
Mavis appeared to grow an inch in height as she stared at Gladys, an angry glare harshening her face. She took a deep breath, and seemed to get her temper under control. “Have it your way, Gladys. I’m sure Ethel will do a wonderful job, but don’t blame me if things don’t go to plan, karma has a wonderful way of redressing the balance.”
Ethel hit the second verse hard, and Gladys smiled as the music echoed through the valley. “Karma is the last thing that worries me,” she said. “I’m more worried about being hit by a meteorite, than I am by superstitious nonsense.”
Mavis gave Gladys another firm stare, and turned her face away as Penny approached her with an apologetic expression on her face. “Don’t worry, Penelope,” she said. “I don’t need comforting. My cat is waiting at home for me, that’s all the comfort I need.”
Gladys felt a twinge of guilt. She knew she could be nasty, but she couldn’t be seen to back down either. Sometimes, keeping up appearances could be a very heavy burden to bear. Without wanting to hurt Mavis any further, she turned her back and headed down the path towards the boat. “Come on, girls. Let’s find out if we can hear the music from the canal.”
Gladys heard Mavis shooing off another attempt from one of her granddaughters to console her, and was pleased when Penny and Willow caught up with her.
“What’s got into you, Granny?” said Penny. “That poor woman had hers in her eyes.”
“You humiliated her,” said Willow.
Gladys stopped walking when they reached the pier. “Okay. I admit it,” she said. “I went too far. I often do. I can’t help it. I’ll be sure to work on it in the future, but come on — you saw her nasty streak rearing its head when Ethel walked into the chapel. She went out of her way to put her down. She’s just as mean as I’m accused of being.”
“Well I feel awful for her,” said Penny. “The poor old —”
Penny couldn’t finish her sentence. Gladys pushed past her, rushing back along the pathway. “No, no, no, no, no!” she shouted. “That won’t do! What on earth is Ethel playing at? It sounds like she’s scalding a cat!”
Penny and Willow joined her, running along the path as the antagonised sound of one continuous high-pitched note echoed through the trees.
Gladys had never understood what people meant when they said their teeth were standing on edge, but as she rushed through the chapel doorway, her hands over her ears, she knew precisely what they were describing. Her teeth vibrated, and her jaw muscles clenched in protest at the siren sound which blasted from the orga
n. Her head felt violated, and she was beginning to think she’d be forced to run after Mavis and beg her forgiveness if Ethel thought it acceptable to add her own twisted interpretation to a classic Elton song.
She stopped in her tracks. Something was wrong. Gladys had never pretended to have the skills of a detective, but she could see that something was amiss. Whether it was the way that Ethel’s upper body had collapsed onto the keyboard — her bottom still on the stool, or whether it was the ribbon of blood which ran from the nape of her neck and down her shiny jacket — Gladys wasn’t sure — but she did know that her senses were in overdrive., and she was beginning to lose control.
Not now, Gladys, not now, Gladys, she repeated in her head — the mantra she used when she knew she was shutting down. Gladys hated the condition she had which caused her to look weak in certain stressful situations. The girls were used to it — they’d seen Gladys shut down before, but it made it no less shameful, and Gladys fought hard to remain in control.
Penny rushed past her, and Willow followed close behind, both girls stopping behind Ethel, their faces ashen. Penny touched Ethel’s neck with two fingers, and Willow flicked switches and turned knobs, trying to silence the organ. Finally, and to Gladys’s relief, she silenced the noise with a spell. Sometimes Gladys wondered if the girls forgot they were witches.
“She’s dead,” said Penny, panic rising in her voice. “Somebody’s killed her!”
Willow’s phone was in her hand. “I’ll call the police!”
A distant screeching of tyres and the roar of an engine were the last sounds Gladys heard before her body finally shut down, and the last murky thought she managed was that Mavis was a murderer, as well as being a mediocre organist. Just how bad could one woman be?
“Gladys! Gladys!”
The voice was distant, but the hand on her forehead was too close. “Get off me!” she said, slapping at the invading digits.
She opened her eyes. The first thought that traversed her mind was that she’d died and gone to hell, but she quickly realised that the fiery red hair did not belong to a demon, loyal to Beelzebub himself, but to Barney Dobkins — Penny’s boyfriend and local law enforcement charlatan. Had his breath not been so putrid, Gladys may have come to the latter conclusion first, but anybody who thought it acceptable to breath onion fumes over her face from so far within her personal space, was as close to a demon as she could imagine.
Gladys was on her knees, but that neither worried or surprised her. It was her body’s position of choice when she had one of her episodes, and she’d become accustomed to applying Savlon ointment to carpet burns over the years. What did concern her, were the words she may have said whilst out of the loop. She’d said some very embarrassing things in the past while her body dealt with an overload of shock, the most cringeworthy being when she regained consciousness on the floor of the Covenhill Delicatessen and Coffee Shop. She’d been surrounded by concerned customers, who later told her she’d been clutching a Spanish chipolata, and screaming obscenities about what Farmer Bill, may, or may not have had, in the trouser department.
She’d never worked out what had set the incident off, but she did remember being very anxious about how to correctly pronounce grande as she ordered a hot beverage.
Barney moved his face closer to hers. “Are you okay, Gladys?” he said, the radio on his jacket spewing static and excited voices. “You had one of your turns, but you’re okay now.”
Gladys spoke in hushed tones. “Did I say anything? While I was on the floor?”
Barney shone his flashlight in Gladys’s eyes, making her wince. “Something about a monkey… and a coconut… I think. I couldn’t really hear you with all the commotion going on in here.”
Gladys blinked and gazed around the chapel. It came flooding back in an instant, and she looked away as her eyes rested on the body still hunched over the organ, with two paramedics standing next to it, unable to do any good. She stood up quickly when she saw her granddaughters, accepting Barney’s offer of a helping hand. “Why are they questioning the girls?” she said.
Penny and Willow stood together in a corner, casting concerned looks in Gladys’s direction over the shoulders of the two policemen who were interrogating them.
“Somebody was murdered,” said Barney, looking at Gladys as if she hadn’t yet fully regained her faculties. “Of course we’re going to question them, and you too. Although I know you haven’t done anything. It’s procedure.”
“It was Mavis,” said Gladys. “Go and arrest her, and get that poor woman’s body out of here. I’m getting married in this chapel in four days time.”
“The body will be gone soon enough,” said Barney. “But I’m afraid you won’t be getting married here. At least not until we’ve sure we know who murdered Ethel. This building is a homicide investigation scene now, Gladys, and I’m the Sergeant in charge of keeping the scene forensically intact. I’m afraid the chapel is off limits.”
Gladys stumbled, pushing Barney’s hand away as he tried to steady her. “Not getting married… homicide… scene… investigation,” she gasped. “Not on my nelly! I’ve been without a husband to control for too many years, young man, and if you think a bothersome murder is going to stop me getting married, then you don’t know which way is up and which way is down!”
“Granny, are you okay?” said Penny, pushing past the two policemen. “Why are you shouting?”
“Your beau here tells me I won’t be getting married on Saturday. That’s why I’m shouting.”
A tall man dressed in a dark suit looked up, sliding his notebook into his jacket pocket. “What’s all the noise about?” he said. “This is a murder scene, not a football match! A good woman has been murdered!”
Gladys wondered how long he’d been a policeman. He looked to be well into his seventies, but he had the inquisitive spark of a much younger man in his narrowed eyes.
“And who the dickens are you?” said Gladys. “This is my chapel. I own it. I’d ask you to show a modicum of respect while you’re on my premises.”
He fixed Gladys with a stern scowl that made her sigh. If he thought his practised facial expressions would scare her, he didn’t know who he was dealing with. “I’m Detective Inspector Jameson,” he said, “and I’d ask you to control yourself. I’ll be needing to speak to you shortly, after all, there’s a dead body in a chapel in the middle of nowhere, and you three people were the only ones here when the body was discovered. You seem rather angry, too… do you often have problems controlling your temper?”
Gladys’s belly burned with rage. Was Inspector Grumpy accusing her of something? A familiar tingle ran the length of her arms, and she knew the shocked looks she was on the receiving end of, were because sparks were flowing from her fingers.
“Granny, no!” yelled Willow.
Too late. Gladys had cast her spell. A shockwave spread through the air, and silence filled the chapel. Time stood still — or seemed to. It was a simple spell that every witch should learn, and the people in the room would come to no harm when Gladys freed them from the hex.
Gladys took a seat on the end of a dirty pew and gathered her thoughts. She’d need to free Penny and Willow from the spell first, and when she’d finished explaining to the girls that they were going to help her solve the murder, and they’d willingly agreed to participate, Gladys would release the police officers and paramedics, hexing them with another charm, the details of which she hadn’t quite thought through just yet.
Nobody was going to stop Gladys weaver getting married on Saturday. She’d been waiting too long.
Chapter Six
“You cast a spell on us!” said Willow. “Your own grandchildren! Your very own flesh and blood!”
“And Barney,” said Penny. “You know he’s on your side. He watched you being burned alive in The Haven for goddess’s sake, you should have showed him some respect!”
“Burned to death,” corrected Gladys. “And I released you two first, didn’t I? Anyw
ay, whatever I think of Barney is beside the point. He’s still a fed.”
“He’s a policeman who’s on your side,” said Penny. “He was worried sick when he found you shut down on the chapel floor, he ran to you before he even looked at the body!”
“What’s your plan?” said Willow, studying the magically frozen face of the inspector, concerned lines still deeply etched beneath his staring eyes. “This guy doesn’t look like he’ll take any nonsense. I don’t want to be here when you lift the hex.”
Gladys pointed at Ethel. “My plan is to prove that Mavis murdered Ethel, find a new organist, and get on with my wedding planning.”
“A woman’s dead, Granny,” said Penny, trying not to look at Ethel’s body. “And you’re worried about your wedding?”
“Call me old fashioned,” said Gladys, “but the dead are the dead. I’ll pay my respects to Ethel in my own way. I’ll solve her murder and then get on with loving the living. That’s what she would have wanted.”
“How do you know what she wanted?” said Willow. “You hardly knew her.”
Gladys studied the dead body. “Anybody who wears a shell-suit in twenty-seventeen has to be a free spirit, and free spirited people are kind people. I’m sure Ethel would want Charleston’s love for me to be publicly acknowledged. She wouldn’t want her murder to ruin other lives, or my wedding day.” She paused for a moment. “At least that’s how I know I’d feel. If it was me who’d been murdered mid Elton John, I’d want everyone else to carry on with their lives.”
“What about this little mess?” said Willow, making a sweeping gesture with her arm. “You’ve got a chapel full of frozen policemen who came here to solve a murder. They’re hardly just going to walk out of the door like nothing’s happened when you lift the spell.”
Gladys had already decided how she was going to deal with that problem. A simple mind cleansing spell would suffice. “I’m going to wipe their minds,” she said. “Just of this little incident. They’ll still remember what they had for breakfast and who they’re married to, but they’re going to leave the chapel and head back to work with no knowledge of what’s gone on here.”