by Amy Casey
I wondered whether I’d been tripping. Whether I’d accidentally put a few magic mushrooms in my lunch. They had been garden mushrooms, but ones I’d bought in a pack and grown myself. Perhaps a few dodgy ones had got mixed in.
But no. Deep down, I knew what I’d seen and what I’d been through was real.
I thought about Thomas’ offer. The chance of giving up this whole investigation and going to visit Nightthistle. It was tempting. The thought of a new start, a new life. And more importantly than that, a life where I didn’t have to hide anymore. A life where I didn’t have to be anyone else—where I could just be myself, and where being myself was completely okay.
It was so, so tempting.
But then there were still so many things holding me here in Goosridge.
My life was here. I’d grown up here. I knew everyone here. And although I sometimes dreamed of moving away, of setting up shop somewhere else entirely, it was the comfort of home that always kept me rooted here. Most people were the same. They harboured dreams of moving abroad and living in some kind of paradise. But really, when it came to it, when push came to shove, those home comforts were actually rather hard to give up.
“Stella Storm?”
I heard the voice and I jolted back into Herbert Young’s waiting room.
I looked over at the reception. A short, smiley woman wearing a headset grinned at me. “Mr Young is almost ready for you.”
My stomach sank. I gritted my teeth, forced a grateful smile. “Thanks.” But really I wasn’t impressed. I’d been under the illusion that “Mr Young” had been “almost ready” for me for a long time. I’d dropped in first thing because that’s when I heard he did what he called open meetings, where he met with prospective business partners, clients and just anyone and everyone to discuss business ideas in a very open fashion—many of whom he ended up working with. It was a kind of Dragon’s Den of the wider area. Except Herbert Young was the only judge.
So I’d come down here and pretended I had a business proposal. When in fact all I had was a loose connection between Herbert Young and Andy Carter.
His shoes.
His bloody heeled shoes, so distinctive—much like the rest of Herbert Young’s cowboy-esque dress sense.
And not “bloody” in the conventional sense. Bloody in the ridiculous sense.
Yeah. The longer I sat here, the more I started to wonder whether the link I’d made between Andy Carter and Herbert Young was weak to say the least.
At least I had something with me that might make the answer to that a little clearer.
I looked in my pocket. The truth serum. I knew its risks. I knew the gamble I was taking. I remembered the last time I’d used it on Peter Pake and how it ultimately led to his wrongful arrest.
But I’d put this together with extreme care. I’d poured all the energy I had into crafting it. I’d embraced hard magic as well as I could, knowing now that my family was out of town, I’d be stronger.
And I’d put a truth serum together.
I thought about those heels. The way they’d imprinted in the ground. And I started to wonder again whether I could be onto something. Andy Carter’s dodgy deals. The money that he owed. Could he have owed Herbert Young money? Could Herbert Young be a crook after all; a crook who snuffed Andy out because he wouldn’t pay up?
“Stella Storm?”
I looked up. Smiley receptionist grinning at me once again.
Only this time, she was holding out a hand.
“Mr Young will see you now.”
I stood up and felt a little queasy with the way this receptionist had spoken those words. Sounded like Fifty Shades of Grey, or something.
But I was too relieved that Herbert was actually seeing me at all to get bogged down in the intricacies of grammar and the terms of speech.
I walked towards Herbert Young’s office door. The first thing that struck me was just how extravagant his office was before even entering. The wood looked pristine. The gold plate with his name on, immaculate.
I took a deep breath and went to push open the door.
When the door opened, the first thing that hit me was the smell of aftershave. Expensive aftershave.
If Herbert’s office seemed extravagant from the outside, the inside was a different matter entirely. It was minimalist beyond belief. Clean edges. Tidy surfaces. The few ornaments in here were neat and tidy, and there was such a space to this room.
There was no sprawling paper trail around. Very few cabinets.
Just a small laptop sitting perfectly aligned on the desk, and a smiling Herbert Young behind it.
He stood up. Offered a hand. He really did look as much of a cowboy in his office as he did in the photos. “Stella Storm. I believe we’ve met before in passing. That bakery of yours, it really is a delight.”
I took his hand, looked away. “Well. It’s kind of a cafe more than a bakery.”
“Don’t put yourself down. Finest cakes in town. I always get Stephen to pick me up a bagel whenever he’s down that side of town. Glorious.”
I didn’t want to tell Herbert that we didn’t do bagels at all at Witchy Delights, but I decided against rocking the boat right now.
“So. You’ll appreciate I have a passion for Witchy Delights. And for that reason, I’m very excited as to why you are here today. What is it that brings you here after all?”
I thought about pitching some kind of business deal. I thought about saying I had some kind of proposal. And I knew I had to use the truth serum somehow, but in a way that wasn’t making it blindingly obvious or even threatening.
But in the end, I figured the best way to gauge Herbert Young’s reaction was to be straight with him.
“I’m here because I want to know what kind of a deal you and Andy Carter were working on.”
They say a reaction can reveal a lot about a person.
I don’t know who “they” are in that case. I don’t even know if it’s a saying, in all truth.
But from the way Herbert Young’s face soured right in front of me, the way the colour drained from his cheeks… this was a reaction of a man who was hiding something.
But he shifted his disappointment as quickly as he could. Forced another smile. “What are you talking about?”
I decided to keep it going because I was clearly onto something. “Andy Carter. I believe you and him were working on a deal together. Then just days ago, he was found dead.” I decided not to mention the shoe right now, but I’d seen already he was wearing a pair of those heeled desert boots. “What were you working on?”
Sweat began to form on Herbert’s forehead. He dabbed himself down, then started to shuffle in his chair. Any attempts to cover up his reactions were in vain—and he clearly knew that now too.
He stood up. “If you aren’t here to talk business, then you have no business being here at all.”
“Why are you being so evasive?”
“Evasive?” Herbert said. “You come in here accusing me of—of—”
“Accusing you of what, Mr Young?”
He walked over to me then. Looked me right in the eye. And for a second, I saw cruelty. Pure, unfiltered cruelty.
And then once again, his face softened, and everything returned to normal.
“I didn’t have any dealings with Andy Carter. And even if I did, why are they of any concern to you?”
I lifted the truth serum. I thought about throwing it into his face. Getting it done with.
But then the door to Herbert Young’s office opened. Smiley receptionist was there.
“Is everything okay in here?” she asked.
Herbert looked past me. Then he looked at me again. “It’s quite alright,” he said. “Miss Storm was just leaving.”
I wanted to dig my feet in. I wanted to stand my ground. Because now more than ever, I was suspicious. My suspicion was at a high.
But I couldn’t do anything rash if I wanted to stay on this investigation.
I couldn’t do anyth
ing stupid if I didn’t want to wind up being arrested myself.
So I took a deep breath and I smiled. “Thanks for your time, Mr Young. Nice shoes, by the way. They leave quite a mark.”
I winked at him, unable to resist.
Then I walked out of his office, out of his building and back out into Goosridge.
I might be struggling for progress. Herbert Young might or might not be the killer. But one thing was for sure.
Herbert Young was hiding something.
And I was going to find out exactly what it was.
Chapter 16
Herbert Young dabbed the sweat forming on his brow and tried to steady his racing heartbeat.
It was hot in this office. Very bloody hot. The sun was beating on the window, which always made it feel artificially warm, even in colder weather. Just to add to his troubles, the air con wasn’t working. Herbert didn’t like it when something was slightly out of order. He liked it when everything was just right. When the apple cart fell over, it had the potential to tear everything in his perfect little existence apart.
And right now that was certainly happening.
He looked around at his office. Looked at the white walls, the neatness of the whole place. And a part of him felt like just trashing the place. Just throwing things all over the place, messing it up completely.
Especially on days like today.
Days when it felt like everything was closing in.
Days when it felt like no matter what he did, Herbert couldn’t outrun reality; couldn’t outrun the truth.
He listened to the birds outside and to be honest, they just annoyed him. He wanted to shut them up, as his heart pounded faster. He wanted to shut everything up.
But he couldn’t.
He just couldn’t.
He felt his cough coming on again. Acid reflux triggered, apparently. Always came on when he was stressed. His dear Mildred used to make him a nice hot chamomile tea and a lavender bath. And as much as Herbert pretended it didn’t make much of a difference; as much as he made out like it was all just hokey, it really did calm him. He really did appreciate it.
He missed Mildred. He wished he’d taken her for granted less when she was alive.
Maybe then things would’ve worked out differently.
Maybe then, he might have made… well. Different decisions. Wiser decisions.
He looked at his phone. He couldn’t get the conversation with Stella Storm out of his head. Truth be told, he hated Witchy Delights. Mostly because they’d built an extension on some land that was rightfully his. He’d had a distaste towards her ever since. He didn’t tell her that, of course. Because nobody knows when someone’s going to come in handy. Nobody knows when somebody is going to turn out useful.
But right now Stella Storm was far from handy. She was far from useful.
She was a problem.
And problems needed dealing with.
He lifted his phone. Keyed in the numbers. He didn’t let himself think too much about what he was doing. He didn’t want to second-guess himself. He didn’t want to doubt himself. He just wanted to get this done with, once and for all.
The voice answered after two rings.
“Yes?”
“There’s a problem,” Herbert said.
A pause. A pause that Herbert waited to be filled.
When it wasn’t, he continued anyway. “Someone’s onto us. Stella Storm. And she needs dealing with. Fast.”
Another pause. Total silence. Silence that agitated Herbert even more, made him dab his sweaty brow once again.
“Have you got that?” Herbert shouted.
Another moment of silence.
Then, “Got it.”
“Good. Because—”
The line went dead.
Herbert took a deep breath. He gritted his teeth. Put the phone down, and leaned back on his perfectly ergonomic chair.
His laptop was just out of alignment, so he adjusted it, back in place.
And that made him feel calmer right away.
Everything would be better when it was back in alignment.
Everything would be better soon.
He stood up. Looked out of the window. Stella Storm was walking away. But she was looking over her shoulder, staring up at him.
He smiled at her.
Then he closed the blind and swallowed a lump in his throat.
She’d be dealt with soon.
All of his problems would be dealt with, soon.
All of this would be over, soon.
Chapter 17
I’m a bit of a home bird anyway. But it should come as no surprise to learn that being at home wasn’t exactly the same when you were trying to get to the bottom of a mystery like the one I was embroiled in.
It was early evening, and I knew I should probably take a break and grab something to eat. Rocky was pestering me for a walk too, something I felt extra-guilty about. I didn’t like letting him down. But it’d be light for a while longer yet, so I don’t know why he was losing hope so readily. Dogs and their habits. They were a hard thing to shake for them, that was for sure.
I was in my bedroom. My curtains were closed. I was lying back on my bed, just staring up at the ceiling. I did this sometimes, when I was trying to piece things together. I imagined the pieces of the puzzle above me, visualised them and tried to figure out a way in which the pieces could be linked; where the dots connected.
I wasn’t sure if I was really good at this because of my magic abilities, or if I was just a good concentrator anyway. But it was one of my preferred methods of getting to the bottom of things.
I needed to get to the bottom of this. Fast. Before this whole case escaped me entirely.
I thought back to today’s meeting with Herbert Young. He’d been nervous about something. And although he’d pretended that he was adamant he’d had nothing to do with Andy Carter, I found it hard to believe. His reaction when I said Andy’s name… it wasn’t any normal reaction. A normal reaction would’ve been pure, honest bewilderment.
And although I hadn’t got the chance to douse him with that truth serum, I hadn’t had to, really.
I was certain more than ever that Chatty Charlie was telling the truth about Andy’s dealings with dodgy people.
And that Herbert Young was indeed one of those dodgy people.
I thought of potential links between Andy Carter and Herbert Young. How could those two get involved together? Andy was very well regarded as a local crook; a small timer who wasn’t really any threat to anyone, not in any great way, at least.
And then there was Herbert Young. One of Goosridge’s golden boys. A poster boy for small business and enterprise, and how one could grow their own career if they really took their destiny and gripped it with both hands.
What was he doing involving himself with a man like Andy Carter?
I thought about the other links in the chain, too. Gina Carter. Her disregard for her husband, but of a passive nature, like she didn’t even want to waste time thinking about him.
And yet… she’d still gone to the wedding. Could she know something about this deal? Could she know the truth?
Maybe there was room for the use of my truth serum yet…
And then there was the third link in the chain. Chatty Charlie. Her story so far added up. It was clear that there had been some kind of deal Andy was involved in. But it was something she claimed to know very little about.
Unless…
My eyes opened. I jolted upright, shot out of bed. My heart started racing.
Damn it. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t made the link.
I rushed out of the bedroom and into the lounge. Rocky lifted his head, tilted it.
“Walkies?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Not yet, but we’ll go for one, don’t you worry. We’ll go for one.”
He jumped around excitedly for a few seconds. I knew I couldn’t back down on my word now. But there was som
ething I needed to do first.
I typed in GoosridgeExpand, Herbert Young’s company. Then I found the link to the newspaper article I’d seen in the local paper on the table at my family dinner—which seemed even more bonkers in hindsight.
Then I looked at that man in the photograph with him.
I’d barely noticed him before. I’d barely even read the article. I’d just noticed Herbert—and with Herbert being the main man in the photograph, he was the one I noticed more than anyone.
But now I took it in.
Because there had to be more to it.
There had to be some kind of… well, clue.
Local business wizard Herbert Young today secured a lucrative deal with WingSpread, in a bid to expand property outside the Goosridge border…
I scrolled down further, further.
Young and his long-term business partner, Stephen Hankinson, said they were delighted to finally have the deal done, a deal that will “secure the future of Goosridge for many years to come.”
I looked back at the photograph from the article.
Stephen Hankinson.
I’d seen him with Herbert before. In fact, I’d seen them together in the papers before, and in public.
If they were long-term business partners, then there was one thing for sure.
Stephen Hankinson had to know what Herbert Young had planned with Andy Carter. He had to know what kind of a deal they had going on.
So I couldn’t wait around.
I had to question him, too.
I looked at my watch. Six o clock. Plenty of time to go find Stephen and talk to him. Plenty of time to take Rocky on a walk, too.
Then I threw my shoes on, heart beating faster, Rocky jumping up and down in excitement.
If Stephen Hankinson knew the truth about the deal that Andy was involved in, then he could hold the keys to this whole case. He could be the last piece of the puzzle.
He could be the—
My thoughts froze.
I went still.
Completely still.
At first, I wasn’t sure why. I knew I was probably being melodramatic. I knew I was probably just being paranoid.