“Could I go?” Emily wrinkled her nose at the sergeant. “You already know how to get hold of me if you need to.”
“I thought you had the day off work?” Agnetha said before the officer could answer. “If you don’t have work, then I’d prefer you to stay right here.”
“My brother’s in town for a few days. I was planning on spending the day with him.”
Sergeant Winchester gave her a narrowed stare. “Right after you spent the morning chasing around after Terrence.”
“He was burgled too, you know.”
“I do know.” Winchester put his hands on his hips. “He was the only one home to answer our call when me and the fingerprints officer came around this morning. Just like we told you we would.”
Emily blushed and looked away. In the heat of chasing up the revelations from this morning, she’d completely forgotten. “I should go home and make up that list of stolen items.”
“If it was important, you’d have done that already.” Agnetha pulled at the sleeve of her cardigan. “You might as well stay.”
With a frown, Emily turned to look out the windows, but the curtains were still closed. “Can I open these up? It’s gloomy enough in here without shutting out the light.”
Sergeant Winchester pulled at the edge of the drapes with his gloved hand until sunlight filled the room. “Better?”
His phone rang before Emily could answer and he turned his back on the two women. Agnetha leaned in closer. “I’ve heard on the grapevine that you have the same skill as your father.”
At the words, Emily jerked back. While the woman stared intently into her face, she looked back through into the dining room where Cynthia stood. Wanda was no doubt still hiding from the Supreme in the car.
“Well?”
“What do you know about my father?”
“I know he could talk to the spirits of the dead. If you can do that, it should be a matter of minutes to find Terrence. Someone on the other side must know where he went. They’ve got more eyes than us.”
Emily traced the length of the scar running down her face. “That’s not how it works.”
“How does it work, then? Find my brother and I’ll reward you handsomely.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Agnetha narrowed her eyes. “Really? You don’t want a helping hand with all those bone fragments dancing around inside your skull?”
“How did you—?”
The Supreme laughed and Emily suddenly saw it. Saw her power. Minutes before, she’d just been a worried sister but now the energy was pouring from every cell in her body. Agnetha was more alive than anybody Emily had ever seen.
“I know everything about everyone in this community.” She leaned closer, her warm breath caressing the side of Emily’s cheek. “Your doctors gave up on you, but I wouldn’t. I can cure you. All I want in return is my brother.”
Emily’s hands jerked up, an automatic gesture of protection. “I don’t know what happened to Terrence.”
“Ask your dead friends.”
“There are only two of them at the moment and neither of them knows what happened either. They’re a couple of ghosts who haven’t moved on to the next realm, not some all-seeing all-knowing creatures.”
Agnetha sighed. “What a disappointment. Still, the offer stands, even if you have to use earthly powers to locate him. I know you’ve played some hand in Terrence’s disappearance.” She tipped her head towards the sergeant, still engrossed in his phone conversation. “So does he.”
“I haven’t!” Emily pulled at the neck of her blouse. Where she’d been cold before now the room was stifling hot.
“Why were you here, then?”
Agnetha’s eyes drilled into her and Emily took a step back.
“You’re kidding,” the Supreme said, her lip curling in disgust. “You still think my brother robbed your pathetic little home. Why? What do you have that you think either of us wants?”
“A book of spells.”
“I don’t need a book to create a spell.” Agnetha sneered as she tilted her head to one side, eyes narrowing. “What do you take me for?”
“There’s a man in town who’ll say different. He’ll say you asked him about it specifically, not long before it was stolen.”
The Supreme stepped back, her mouth dropping open in surprise. She recovered quickly. “If this is all just following-up on what Jake the Snake is meant to have laid his hands on, I’ll save you the bother. He never had the book in the first place.”
“There’s a lot of people going to a lot of trouble if the spell book doesn’t exist.”
“Even if you did find it, I’ll warn you right now not to mess about with what’s written inside. From someone who’s had more than her fair share of cleaning up after other people, you want to stay clear of magic dealing with life and death.”
“It’s not.” Emily flicked a glance at Cynthia and squared her shoulders. “We’re just putting something back where it belongs.”
“If you really want to enact power over mortality,” Agnetha continued as though Emily hadn’t spoken, “then you should quit fighting against my power of medical attorney. I presume it’s on your direction a lawyer suddenly took an interest today.”
“What of it?”
“An organ donor bringing new life and hope to seriously ill people is its own magic. Maybe you should think long and hard about that before you’re led astray by tales of restoring life to someone who’s certified brain dead.”
“What would you know?”
Agnetha gave a sad smile. “I’d know that I loved and cared for Wanda and Sheryl Hawthorne years before you even knew their names. I don’t care what you think of me, I looked out for those two when nobody else would.”
Emily had no rebuttal for those bare truths. Whatever fall-out Wanda thought had happened between Agnetha and her sister, the details were wisps of smoke compared to the hard facts.
As she struggled to find something to say, Sergeant Winchester hung up his call. “That was the officer who looked through your brother’s bank accounts.”
“Well?” Agnetha turned to face him. “What did they have to say? Has his credit card been used today?”
The sergeant nodded at Emily. “Are you sure you want to share this conversation?”
After a second, the woman returned her gaze to Emily. “Fine. You can go. As you said, the sergeant knows how to get in touch if you’re needed.”
She didn’t stick around to be told twice. As she slammed her car door, Wanda popped up from the back seat.
“How’d it go?”
“It’s a mess,” Emily admitted. “Terrence is missing and Agnetha somehow knows all about me. She wants me to track him down and return him.”
“Like you’ve got him stashed away somewhere?” Wanda gave a dismissive toss of her head. “She must be desperate.”
“Oh, thanks!”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Move over Witchy-poo.” Cynthia appeared in the back seat, looking like the cat who’d got into the cream. “I have a bit of news.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear anything more,” Emily said. “All I want is to get home and pretend the last few days never happened.”
“You’ll want to hear this,” Cynthia insisted. “The sergeant just told Agnetha her brother’s bank account hasn’t been touched.”
“Fascinating,” Emily murmured, directing her attention to the intersection they were approaching.
“That bit’s not, but this is. Apparently, he’s got a bank balance of over one hundred grand.” Cynthia sat back, an expression of satisfaction on her face. “A bit hard to save that up from a job at the butcher’s, don’t you think?”
Chapter Seventeen
Emily stared at Jake’s yard, the twisting heaps of metal glinting with evil in the afternoon light. Agnetha’s scornful words played out in her mind again. He never had the book in the first place.
Could that be true?
Her mi
nd fast-forwarded through the action on the day she’d come to visit. His surprise had been genuine, surely? When Jake went up that attic staircase to find the book missing, it had caught him off-guard.
She exited the car, wincing at the noise of the door closing in the still afternoon. When he’d called to say their appointment today was off—furious she’d called the police and mentioned his name—Emily had been too surprised to protest.
Now, the vehement cancellation appeared strange. Of course, he had every right to be upset with her bandying his name about, but if Jake had been as frantic to retrieve the spell book and save his girlfriend’s life as she and Wanda were, he’d be over it.
“He’s not there,” a man called out from over the road. “There’s no use knocking.”
Emily shuffled across the road, checking for traffic even though they were at a dead end. “Has he gone to work?”
“He took off late last night,” the neighbour said. He’d been turning the earth in his front garden and now slipped his gloved hand along the blade of a small fork, throwing the dirt back into the flowerbed. “It made an awful racket. Motorbikes and souped-up cars.” He shook his head. “I’m glad I’m past all that.”
“Did you recognise anybody?”
“Just some gang. I wasn’t familiar with the patches on their jackets.”
“A gang?” Emily thought of Terrence’s troubled past. “Did Jake go with them willingly?”
The man huffed out a breath of air, looking amused. “I didn’t pay that much attention. I only looked out the window ‘cause they woke me up. When I went across the road to complain, he didn’t answer.”
Emily thanked the man and got back into her car, wondering what she could do next.
“You should wait until that old fellow heads back inside, then break-in,” Wanda said firmly. “If he’s still got my book, then you’re entitled to retrieve it.”
“No, I’m not.” Emily sighed and pulled the car out, heading home. “Just because he lied to me doesn’t give me property rights. Either he bought it from the auction fair and square, or someone’s been lying to us and he never had it.”
“What next, then?” Cynthia arched her right eyebrow. “Are you planning on roping in legions of the undead to do your bidding and track down Terrence?”
While Wanda stared on in confusion, Emily dismissed her interest with a flap of her hand. Part of her wished she could do exactly that while the other half never wanted to see another ghost again.
“I don’t suppose you’re familiar with any gangs?” Emily asked her brother over dinner. “Unless I can find out what happened to Terrence or Jake, I seem to be at a dead end.”
“You can’t just give up,” Wanda said in horror. “Remember my sister’s life is on the line.”
“Not my crowd,” Harvey said, shaking his head. “You’ve met the dodgiest person I know in Pinetar already. Aside from that, everyone I know stays on the right side of the law.”
“Why don’t you ask Crystal?”
Emily snapped a loaded glance at Cynthia for the idea, but it appeared the ghost was genuine.
“She knows everybody in Pinetar and half of Ashburton. If anyone is going to be friends with someone in a biker gang, it’ll be her.”
The idea held some appeal, but it would have to wait until morning. Even resting up for a few hours on the couch hadn’t restored her energy.
Imagine if Agnetha took care of that for you. Hey, presto! All your bone fragments and your troubles would be gone.
Emily shook her head, but the idea stayed. As she lay in bed, not sleeping, the thought of all she’d be able to do if the injuries from her car accident were taken away recurred. She could go back to Christchurch, return to the job she loved. Harvey could keep this house, she wouldn’t care.
You’d lose Peanut. And Cynthia.
As much as she wanted to say good riddance to at least one of those, Emily had to admit she’d miss the two equally. Despite the odds, she and Cynthia had become good friends.
But you wouldn’t need to rely on friends if you got back to normal. You could rely on yourself.
She could live alone again, with no one except her clients or coworkers to care what happened to her. Emily’s mind played out the scenario, unsure if that would be a nightmare or pure bliss.
You could read a book. By yourself. Without having to endure someone else’s idea of the perfect narrator.
Reading had always been a comfort and her favourite pastime. Even with audiobooks and comic strips on offer, it wasn’t the same.
As Emily drifted closer to sleep, she thought of her old life. Quiet. Intellectually challenging. Everything shaped to fit exactly what she needed.
You don’t even know how to find Terrence, you dimwit. The offer isn’t going to matter.
With that thought occupying her mind, Emily finally managed to fall asleep.
“No, I don’t know any gangs.” Crystal sounded put out and when Emily’s watch announced the time, she realised why.
“Sorry to barge in so early,” she said, blushing at the thought she’d turned up on her friend’s doorstep before six o’clock. “I just couldn’t sleep for thinking about what might have happened.”
Crystal yawned with her mouth so wide, she appeared to have a flip-top head. “If you’re worried, go to the police.”
“They’re already involved,” Emily said, wringing her hands. “But I thought if we could follow up some of our own leads, we might solve the situation more quickly.”
“You know, I’m usually one for butting my nose into a situation where it’s not wanted,” Crystal said, walking into the kitchen and flicking the switch on the coffee-maker. “But even I think this might be one time we should stand back and let them do their job.”
“I suppose. It just makes me feel so useless when I can’t get stuck in and help.”
“Better to stand on the sidelines than bolt onto the field and upset the entire game.”
Emily stared at her friend with suspicion. “Who is this level-headed person and what have you done with Crystal?”
“If you want to get the benefit of full Crystaliciousness, you need to let me get a good sleep-in.”
By the time Emily had drunk her fill of coffee, her watch announced it was seven-thirty and her stomach sloshed as she walked out the door.
“Now, what?”
“Break into Jake’s house and check it for spells,” Wanda suggested again.
“I’m not doing that. Next idea, please.”
“Go home and get some rest.” Cynthia stretched her arms over her head. “You’re making me feel tired and I don’t even need to sleep.”
Instead, Emily headed for the charity shop. It was too early for either Gregory or Pete to be there, but it suited her just fine. She tutted her way through all the boxes they’d half-unpacked the day before, then set the treasures she’d unearthed in a row.
Seeing the line-up of antiques reminded her that she hadn’t yet completed a list of stolen items. Nothing of value had gone, but whoever rummaged through the wooden chest she kept on her bedside cabinet had removed half a dozen pieces of costume jewellery worth precisely nothing.
She didn’t really want it back but if it helped the police to lay charges, it was worth the effort.
As she let herself in through the front door, Emily heard Harvey cooking in the kitchen. She smiled as he sang through half a dozen lines of Pokarekare Ana with not a single original lyric intact.
“Pancakes?” he called out.
“I’ll pass.” Emily sat at the table, happy to watch him cooking. “I’ve had so many cups of coffee already, there’s no room for food.”
“You’ll end up with high blood pressure at this rate,” Harvey warned, dolloping some cream and jam on one side of his plate with abandon.
“Better than high cholesterol.”
“Is it, though? This is certainly more fun.”
She opened her mouth to ask about missing items when her phone rang. Ga
reth’s voice yelled out of the speaker, so Emily had to hold the phone away from her ear.
“The judge wants to consider the motion this morning. Get your skates on. You and your boy need to be here by ten sharp.”
“I thought you said it would buy us a few days.”
“I was wrong. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Can you get here in time?”
“Jake’s missing.”
“Who’s Jake?” There was a short pause, then, “Oh, right. Never mind. The whole thing’s a long shot, anyway. Are you able to make it?”
“If I can’t, would that postpone it for another day?”
Gareth laughed as though she’d just told an uproarious joke during the middle of happy hour. “Not a chance. He’ll just dismiss it out of hand. If you want to stretch the decision out by a few hours, you’ll be here. Ten o’clock. Court two.”
He’d hung up by the time Emily got her head on straight. She leapt to her feet and hurried through to the bedroom. What was appropriate for visiting a friend in the wee hours of the morning wouldn’t do for presenting evidence in front of a judge.
She hauled a dark blue woollen suit out of the back of her wardrobe and gave it a sniff. No moths. Good.
With the addition of a high-collared white blouse, she was soon ready.
Emily didn’t have the slightest idea of what she could say to convince a judge, but it was Sheryl’s life on the line. She’d better think of something in the hour-long drive to Christchurch.
Chapter Eighteen
Emily stood in the small courtroom, frustration welling inside her. “But you can’t just kill her!”
Gareth winced beside her, while the judge cleared his throat before saying, “Nobody is killing anyone, Miss Curtis. We’re here to deliberate on the validity of your motion.”
Miss Hawthorne Sits for a Spell Page 12