It was Joe. Cute young Joe Smith. Bella’s Joe.
Cassy didn’t want to go back to the Spicery and face Bella. If she did, it meant she’d have to tell her what she saw at Lake Hollander. And she didn’t want to do that.
For the brief buoyancy her heart felt following her meeting with James at the station, it now felt leaden, as if it were dragging her down. It was as if she herself had been cheated on. She was putting her own insecurities onto Bella. It was possible that the young woman was a lot more resilient than her. She’d have to be- considering the bad hand she’d been dealt in life. Bella was stronger than a hundred other kids her age, or even a hundred Cassys.
Deciding she would put off confronting Bella with more bad news, Cassy set her sights on Nurse Gwyneth. She took the 10a intercity bus to Knotwood.
As Havenholm receded and the view from the bus window was replaced with that awkward hinterland between towns, Cassy went over what she knew and what she didn’t. She knew that Cassy was strong and would survive this. She knew that Joe was a lying little—well Cassy didn’t want to put a too fine a point on it. Her estimation of him had plummeted. Now that he was unquestionably outed as a liar, Cassy had to reconsider everything he’d said to her before. Just why he had been snooping around that night? Why did he flee?
There was another question. Why had he gotten so close to Bella? What was there to gain from his relationship with her? A tin full of twenties? He could rob a store if he needed money so badly.
Another thing bothering her was why he was loitering in the hall at midnight.
Knotwood was approaching fast. It was a logging town, just as Havenholm had been in the past when it hadn’t been a fishing town. The town had been founded on the site of an old mill now long torn down. Knotwood occupied an odd manmade semi-circle cut out from the forest, as if it was taking a large bite from the trees.
Cassy put her head against the glass. The vibration of the motor and the bounce over the uneven road shook her skull. It wasn’t an altogether displeasing sensation.
It hadn’t been two in the morning. Cassy sat upright, startling a small old woman across the aisle.
“It wasn’t two in the morning,” Cassy said, bewildering the woman further. “The TV was showing the late-night news. The two in the morning bulletin. You know the one where they get the trainee presenter to read out the headlines super quick. I remember because it was the first thing I saw when I woke up on the couch.”
The woman smiled faintly at Cassy humoring her. Cassy laughed too, aware of how strange she must have looked, but not caring one bit.
She got off at her stop, then took a leisurely walk to where her online map told her Gwyneth’s business was. She followed the twisting red line like she was playing a game, almost without looking up to the real world to check that the little screen wasn’t lying to her.
With her confidence renewed, Cassy rapped her knuckles against the door, then pressed the doorbell twice. With an alarming speed the door opened. “Mrs. Griffiths,” said Cassy stepping forward.
“Cassandra.” It wasn’t so much a greeting as it was a simple statement of fact. “Do come in.”
“I’ve come about Dot.” Using Dot as an excuse to be there had only just occurred to her. She’d been planning on playing it by ear, but now she had a plausible way in. Gwyneth seemed satisfied with the explanation and her initial coldness dissipated.
“Of course, or course,” she said, then stopped suddenly, causing Cassy to almost bump into the larger woman as she followed her through her home office. “She’s all right, isn’t she? Nothing’s happened? I don’t think I’d be able to take another setback.”
It was an interesting choice of words. Presumably she was referring to Minerva Donnington’s death.
“Nothing so upsetting thankfully,” continued Cassy. “But she took a nasty turn. Confined to her bed.”
“Has she been diagnosed with anything?”
“Not yet, though I could make an educated guess.”
“Which is?”
Cassy was stalling, trying to think of a disease. “Alzheimer’s?”
Gwyneth nodded sagely as if she’d already assumed as much. Cassy struggled to keep a straight face. “Which would only be complicated by her arthritis.”
That was a much better choice. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Cassy cursed herself for not picking the easier option “That’s the real reason that I’m here,” she said backtracking spectacularly. “I think she gets a little confused sometimes. She tried to reach for something on the top shelf where there wasn’t anything and toppled over.”
“Just doesn’t have the dexterity anymore. Understood.”
They came to a place trapped stylistically between quaint British cottage and hospital waiting room. This odd hybrid of decoration and functionality said everything about Mrs. Griffiths that Cassy needed to know. Here was a woman eager to project the image of authority and knowledge but who let go of her essential personality. Rather than portray the sense of being professional, it instead accentuated how out of her depth the woman was. Every part that tried to say ‘Medical Professional’, such as the wall charts and plastic-covered chairs along one wall was unbalanced by the comfy-looking couch.
Dot had spoken of a cabinet where she was certain that Gwyneth kept the drugs she used in her work. Presumably these were the ones that she gave to Bella. As she stepped into the room, Cassy clocked the cabinet; a metal fronted thing with an incongruous carved wooden frame.
“Are you looking for full time care?”
“Oh no, I’m— I mean yes. Yes. That’s exactly what I’m looking for. For Dot. Dorothy. Her family moved away some years ago, and I’m not sure how useful they’d be.”
“Well that’s what I here for, darlin’,” Gwyneth said, enthusiastically. She then became suddenly sombre. “Is there any more news?”
It hadn’t taken long for the conversation to turn to the investigation and Cassy was happy to let it play out that way without bringing it up herself.
“Not yet. Not really. I don’t think the police have much to go on. One partial footprint…” But no other footprints elsewhere in the house?
Cassy wondered why Noyce only mentioned the partial footprint when presumably there should have been others. She dragged up the memory of entering the hallway after having left Bella alone in her own apartment. She recalled walking along the exposed wooden flooring, then moving to the thick carpet. It was as if she could feel the springy material under her feet even now. It had been an oddly comforting sensation. In her mind’s eye, she saw the grooves dug in to the bushy weave. There had been footprints, or rather the indentations of boots. But, by the time the police arrived, the impressions may have disappeared.
“Are you all right, my love?” The thick Welsh accent wormed its way into Cassy’s thoughts. “You seemed lost there for an instant.”
“You know how it is. Everything’s been so overwhelming over the last few days and now this.”
“Can I get you something?”
“I would kill for tea.”
Gwyneth leaped into action. She disappeared through a door in the waiting room. Cassy too kicked into gear was alone. She darted to the cabinet and fumbled the simple latch until it slid open. Inside, there were several bags just like the ones she’d seen lined up in the kitchen on that fateful night. Each was pre-packed with small blue pills.
“Sugar?” came the lilting voice from the kitchen.
“No thank you. Absolutely not.”
“A purist! Good.”
Cassy retrieved some of the pills and stashed it in her breast pocket. She was about to rifle through the rest of the contents of the cabinet when she heard Gwyneth’s percussive footfall approaching. She swiftly closed the cabinet door to reveal the woman returning with two sturdy-looking mugs. Either she hadn’t seen Cassy rifling through the cabinet or didn’t mind. Cassy’s heart pumped furiously.
She took the mug from Gwyneth and contemplated it. This was not
how Cassy would treat a good drink of tea. But perhaps this wasn’t ‘a good drink of tea’ and deserved no fine china cup and saucer. Of all people, Cassy would have expected someone from Britain to know the correct manner to serve tea. Not that she would refuse it.
“Mmmmm. Good stuff.”
“It should be,” said Gwyneth, “I bought it from your shop.”
The ladies sat next to each other on the comfortable couch, opposite the less-inviting chairs, the kind found in a normal waiting room. Why anybody would choose those above the soft-cushioned couch was beyond Cassy.
“What’s really been going on, Gwyneth?” Cassy asked. She took a sip from her mug, a chunky thing with a large handle and a red dragon on the side.
“What do mean?”
“On the night of the barbecue I saw you get in to an argument with the Minerva Donnington.”
“Did you now?”
“Yes, I did. Shortly after, she was found dead.”
“And what are you trying to say?”
“All I’m saying was that there was friction in that household and it can’t be simple coincidence.”
The nurse shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her knuckles had gone white from gripping the drink in her hands. Steam rose from the tea which remained untouched.
“You have to understand that they were very valuable customers to me. And I don’t just mean for the money. I love Bella, such a sweet thing you know. And even Mrs. Donnington, despite her occasional shall we call them ‘outbursts’ was deep down a good woman. I sincerely believe that.”
“Deep down.”
Gwyneth shook her head softly. “Very deep down. She did not have a good life, you know. She might have. Well educated in the medical profession, which is how I knew her. Could have been a doctor. But Bella’s father put an end to all that. He was very controlling, cruel and selfish. When Bella came along her fate was sealed. Minnie had to stay at home with her. When the father left she was in a pickle. Had to rely on charity and welfare.”
“But they had you, eventually.”
“I did what I could. You have to understand that what I do has a lot of overhead. There’s money involved to set yourself up,” said Gwyneth indicating the room with a sweep of her arm. “It’s not easy and I have to admit that I needed the Donningtons as much as they needed me. Business isn’t great. So maybe I let things happen that I shouldn’t have.”
“Is that what the argument was about?”
Gwyneth nodded. “I can’t say any more.”
“If there’s something important that you haven’t told the police yet, don’t you think you should?”
Wiping a nascent tear from her eye, Gwyneth looked to the cabinet. “I saw you go in there. You knew what to look for all along, didn’t you? And I bet Dorothy was only here to do the same as you. Dig for dirt. Well, I deserve it.”
“What do you mean, Gwyneth? Did you take the money?”
“I didn’t take any money,” she said somberly, “Nothing that wasn’t owed to me.” She lifted herself from the couch and walked to the door where she let Cassy through. “I think perhaps that you should go now Cassy, don’t you? You have what you need.”
Involuntarily, Cassy touched her pocket. She put her tea down on the low table at the center of the room and came close to Gwyneth. “I don’t know what you did, or what even what’s going on. But if there’s something important you need to say, tell me now. Or at least tell the sheriff.”
“I won’t be here long enough to do that, love. I think it’s time to move on. Perhaps I’ll go back and visit the old country. I miss the valleys.”
Cassy left with a great deal more to go on. Understandably the Welshwoman had been reticent to implicate herself with any crime, but not for one minute did Cassy think that she was the murderer. Had she been, Cassy suspected she might have gotten a confession right there and then.
It might not have been wise to leave and allow such a prominent witness to flee across the Atlantic, but more important things required her immediate attention. For the first time, Cassy believed she knew who the killer was. All she needed to confirm her still tenuous theory was one little plant, which could be found at the Spicery.
Chapter Eight
“I need lichen,” Cassy said, as she entered the Spicery. As always, the store was dimly lit, which Cassy called ‘mood lighting’. Her eyes took a few seconds to adjust but she knew the layout well.
“Looking for a quick snack are you?” Patty asked from the murk at the back of the store. “At least you aren’t stealing my cookies.”
“Do we even sell lichen? Is it a spell thing? What kind of magic uses lichen anyway? Is it mold?” added Dot. Dot was at the till, tending to a customer, who looked perplexed, as Cassy hurried about looking among the jars of powder and spices.
“Here it is!” exclaimed Cassy triumphantly as she held up a small glass jar. “Lichen is actually two different organisms living together. Did you know that? It’s not even really a plant, I bet you didn’t know that either.”
Cassy cleared a space on the counter next to the cash register, a big old mechanical thing with numbers that popped up on little tooth-like tabs visible through a small window. Dot, Patty and the customer, who had by now forgotten about her purchase and was more interested in Cassy.
“It’s a kind of algae that lives tethered to a fungus. Two things living in tandem. When you see it growing on a tree it doesn’t even do anything to it. Completely independent, only there because it’s just a good place to grow.” Cassy ground some of the lichen under the nub of an ink stamp she found at the side of the register. Normally she would have used a pestle and mortar but she was in too much of a hurry. From her top pocket, she pulled the bag of pills she’d taken from Gwyneth Griffith’s place. Those too she ground up.
“Patty get me some water, would you?”
Patty obliged and returned with a small glass. Cassy took a sip then poured the rest on the compound she’d made.
“Dot I need jar number forty-five.”
“Cat urine and blue dye?”
“That’s the one.”
“Some of the ingredients in your spells Cassy…” said Dot as she went to a rack of immaculately arranged earthenware pots. “Do they all have to have such horrible things in them?”
“Urine is quite sterile and very useful.” She turned to the customer who watched, spellbound. “Do you have a piece of absorbent paper?” It was a strange request, Cassy knew it, but it didn’t hurt to ask.
“I have this,” she said, handing her a small square of tissue. “I always heard you were a witch. It’s true, isn’t it? What spell are you making? A love potion?”
“With cat urine?” exclaimed Dot. “I hope not.”
“No spells I’m afraid. Just a little herbology. Or science, if you will.” Cassy added a little more liquid from both the jar and the glass to the mixture, then dabbed the tissue in to it. “Ever heard of the litmus test? It determines if a substance is either acid or alkaline and what they use is derived from lichen. A pH indicator.”
“So what are you testing?” asked the customer, intrigued.
“I want to find out if these pills,” said Cassy, shaking the pack containing the remaining pills, “are exactly what we’ve been told they are.”
They leaned in to get a closer look at the soggy pile.
“What are we looking for?” Patty asked.
“Blue.”
“Blue?”
“Blue. If it’s blue then we’ll know the pills are alkaline.”
“And if they’re alkaline?” wondered Dot.
“Then it’s probably safe to say that they’re mostly chalk powder.”
“And that’s good because…?”
“There it’s gone blue!” barked the customer, pointing at the edge of the paper, then clapping as if they’d collectively won the lottery.
But Cassy wasn’t happy. This was the final part of a puzzle she’d been ruminating for the last day.
“I
s Bella here?”
“She’s just in the back having a rest,” said Patty. “I think just standing at the counter is too much for her.”
“Has she been here all day?”
“Well, we did give her a lunch break. We’re not complete slave masters you know,” said Dot. Cassy bowed her head and backed away. She didn’t want to be right, but everything just seemed to fit.
“I need a little fresh air,” said Cassy, “Can we go out into the courtyard? Sheriff Noyce will be here soon, I told him to come as soon as possible.”
“Why’s that, Cassy?” It was Bella emerging through the beaded barrier that led to the backroom.
“Because I know who killed your mother and why.”
Chapter Nine
Still without her wheelchair Bella asked for help to walk outside. With one arm wrapped around the young girl’s shoulder, Cassy led Bella into the courtyard. They sat on one of the benches, ornately carved stone things that had been there longer than anyone could remember.
“I saw your boyfriend today.” Cassy said.
“What did he say?”
“I didn’t talk to him. I saw him with a girl on the beach,” Cassy shrugged, “Not much of a beach is it? Grey pebbles. No sand. Can’t really call it a beach if you can’t make castles. Have you ever been there?”
Bella nodded, but said nothing.
“I bet it’s tough getting there on your wheels.”
“I do walk. You know that.”
Cassy looked towards the rear door of the Spicery where Patty, Dot and the customer who helped out earlier, stood watching Cassy intently. Dot whispered something to Patty, but Cassandra didn’t hear.
“What was your mother like?” Cassy asked, putting a hand on Bella’s.
“How do you mean?”
“The relationship between a mother and daughter can sometimes be a little difficult. I know it was with mine.”
Where Pigs Fly (Nether Edge Cozy Witch Mystery Book 2) Page 6