Game of Scones--a Cozy Mystery (with Dragons)

by Kim M Watt

  “And did they have any theories?” Alice asked.

  “Not so much. Even werewolves don’t–—”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Werewolves. You know, part human, part wolf. Rah.” He pulled his lips back from his teeth and pawed at the air. Alice stared at him, wondering if he was joking, then wondered why he would be. After all, given the other creatures they’d come across, it was hardly unbelievable.

  “It may have escaped your notice,” she said, “but it’s not full moon.”

  Thompson snorted. “You lot make fake sunlight. Do you really think there isn’t fake moonlight too?”

  “But how do they stay changed? Do they have to carry the light around with them?”

  “No. The light triggers the change to wolf, but the change back is optional. Some of them turn once and that’s it – wolves forever.”

  “They get stuck?”

  “They prefer it.”

  “Ah.” Alice considered that. Yes, she’d known people like that, too. “But you don’t think it’s them?”

  “It’s not impossible, but it’s unlikely. Most werewolves are pretty good sorts, keep to themselves. And even the ones that don’t aren’t usually sheep rustlers. They just tear into the animals right there and then rather than stealing them off.”

  Alice put her fork down and rubbed her forehead, watching the cat chewing on a piece of chicken with every evidence of enjoyment. “So we’re no further on than we were before.”

  “No. Sorry.”

  She sighed, and took another sip of wine, and Thompson looked up at her with his flat green eyes, then wandered across the table, tail twitching.

  “Don’t shed in my food,” she told him, but when he rubbed his face on her arm she didn’t push him away.

  “Don’t be so precious,” he said. “You can’t be a cat lady with that sort of attitude.”

  She huffed at him, and scratched between his ears, setting him purring. “You’re impossible.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Thompson had gone back to his chicken, and she was picking at her pasta when she said, “I had a letter from them today. The people that sabotaged my car.”

  He looked up, eyes bright. “Yeah? What’d it say?”

  “Lots of details about me. Where I’d been, who I saw. It was a threat.”

  “Well, it was hardly going to be a party invitation, was it?”

  She ignored him. “Something’s been annoying me about it. I just can’t quite figure out what.”

  “Something’s been annoying you about the threatening letter that proved you were under surveillance and in danger? Dear me, I can’t imagine what it could be.”

  “Don’t be a pain. I mean something seemed … familiar. It’s why I didn’t want anyone around. I thought maybe if I could just let my mind wander I might stumble on it.” She sighed, and took a sip of wine. “But there’s nothing. I even kept the envelope back from the inspectors so the dragons could have a sniff at it, but of course they’re not here.”

  Thompson sat back from his empty plate. “I’ll have a sniff.”

  Alice frowned at him. “You can’t smell like dragons can.”

  “No, but let’s have a look anyway. Can’t hurt, right?”

  “I suppose it can’t.” She got up and fetched the envelope from the counter, dropping it on the table in front of him.

  Thompson leaned forward then instantly recoiled, one paw in the air as he wrinkled his nose. “Phew. Your enemy likes his cologne, doesn’t he?”

  Alice looked at the cat sharply. “Cologne?”

  “You poor humans and your silly little noses. Have a sniff.” He pushed the envelope toward her with one soft paw, and she picked it up, her stomach suddenly, unaccountably tight.

  “I’ll go in the hall where I can’t smell dinner,” she said, her voice calm, and walked away from the table with the envelope pinched between her fingers. In the hall, she inhaled the warm clean scents of the house, anchoring herself in them. She kept her back to the cat, aware her hands were shaking just slightly as she brought the paper to her nose. She breathed in deeply, and could still smell the familiar, comforting scents around her, but she could smell something else too. She must have caught the faintest whiff of it before, and that was what had been niggling at her. Her heart had recognised it even if her mind hadn’t. She resisted the urge to rip the envelope into pieces and throw it into the Aga, and inhaled again.

  There was no mistaking it. He’d had it on his hands when he wrote the letter, when he put it in the envelope, when he dropped it at the desk. Of course he did. He always wore it. Always had.

  “Bastard,” she said aloud, and finally turned to look at Thompson, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Hey, I know my father. Well, for a couple of my lives, anyway.”

  “I didn’t mean you.”

  “I know.” He examined her for a moment, then said, “What do you want me to do?”

  Alice considered it. Her heart was slowing, the sticky sweat that had sprung up on her back at that sick, familiar scent already cooling. She didn’t want Thompson here. She didn’t want anyone here right now. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just need some time to think.”

  “To think.”

  “Yes. Alone.”

  Thompson kept those steady green eyes on her, then said, “If you say so.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he just nodded, and stepped sideways into nothing, leaving the doorway and the house suddenly empty.

  Alice stayed where she was for a moment, fighting a see-sawing nausea in her belly, wondering if she should be calling the inspectors or the W.I. or Miriam or a hitman. Not that she knew any hitmen, but the thought still crossed her mind. Then she straightened the front of her blouse, ran her hands through her hair, and went back into the kitchen to tip her dinner into the bin and her wine down the sink. She made a cup of tea, still thinking, then sat back down at the table, and picked her phone up. No. No police. She didn’t know enough yet. One whiff of a cologne that was hardly rare wasn’t enough to be certain. Not even when combined with dodgy real estate dealings. But, if she was right, there was a way to be sure.

  The phone rang three times before it was answered, the voice at the other end cheery. “Lily speaking.”

  “Hello, Lily. It’s Alice, from the cou—”

  “Alice! How lovely to hear from you! Are you okay?”

  Alice frowned at the empty kitchen. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Oh, well. You just didn’t strike me as the sort of person who made phone calls after dinnertime.”

  “Is it too late?” Alice asked, managing to loosen her grip on the phone a little.

  “No, no! I just— You know, you just struck me as that sort of person.”

  “Right. Of course. Lily, I’ve had a little bit of a bad day—”

  “Oh no! What happened?”

  Alice thought that, if she was wrong, this was about to be a most trying evening. “I’ll give you all the details later, but the thing is, I need a favour.”

  “Oh, of course! Anything you need.”

  “I don’t feel very safe at my house, and I’m not sure my friend’s houses are any better. I was going to get a hotel—”

  “No! No, don’t do that. You must come here.”

  “Lily, you are wonderful. Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t be silly! I knew we were going to be the most wonderful friends as soon as we met!”

  Alice thought that either Lily really wasn’t involved, or she was laying it on very thick. “I find myself temporarily without transport, but I’ll call a taxi—”

  “Nonsense. I’ll come to you.”

  “Hmm. That won’t work. I have the police watching my house, and I don’t want them to ask where I’m going.” She lowered her voice. “I’m afraid they may be involved.” She must remember to go and fetch the plate from DC Smythe so that she didn’t knock on the door with it later and wonder where Alice was.


  “Ooh! Really?”

  “Maybe. You’re the only one I can trust, Lily.” Now she was the one laying it on too thick, but so be it. “I’ll meet you in Toot Hansell. Do you know the village?”

  “I’ve been a couple of times.”

  “Come to the square. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Alright,” Lily said. “Please, Alice, be careful!”

  “I will,” Alice said honestly, and hung up.

  Twenty minutes later, she slipped out the back door and padded down the path, her feet light in trainers and her black cane with the silver dragon’s head handle in one hand. Her bedroom light was on, the curtains drawn, the house locked. Her hair was held back by a black headband, and she was carrying a small overnight bag slung over one shoulder. She let herself out the gate that gave onto the woods behind the house, easing it gently shut behind her, and slipped into the cover of the trees. She had a torch in her bag, but sunset came late to the Yorkshire Dales in summer, and even on the skinny path that wound between the tree trunks there was enough light to see by. She rejoined the road beyond the entrance to her cul-de-sac and headed for town, the street lights still not on and the sky deep blue above her.

  The pleasant detached bungalows gave way to equally pleasant semis, and then she was slipping past the stone walls of terraced houses, the town quiet and at peace around her. Blue light from televisions bled out through uncurtained windows, and here and there voices floated from backyards, relaxed and jovial. Her own shoulders were tight, but she moved quick and sure, barely using her cane. She kept to the shadows as she entered the square, and spotted the car outside the bookshop.

  She paused, and took a deep, steadying breath. She could have just asked Lily to meet her for a drink, of course, but that would seem very curious when she had her own friends in the village. No, staying with Lily was the only option. It’d be easy to bring her around to the subject of her businessman husband. And maybe she wouldn’t even need to. If she was wrong about the husband, there’d be photos in the house. And if she was right, she’d get it out of Lily somehow. Then, once she was sure, she could text DI Adams and tell her she knew who was behind it all. Yes, it was risky, but despite the car incident she didn’t think there was any real danger. They wouldn’t be sure who knew she was meeting Lily, or if she was being tailed. No, the worst that would happen would be she’d find out nothing, because the house would be clean and Lily would try to mislead her. Try to being the operative word.

  She shifted her bag to the other shoulder and started across the square. Lily scrambled out of the car and rushed to meet her.

  “Alice! Are you okay? What’s happening?”

  “Hello, Lily. Thank you so much for coming.” Her shoulders seemed to be getting tighter by the second, as if they might snap under the weight of expectancy.

  “Well, how could I not? You sounded so upset!” She took Alice’s hand and towed her toward the car. “Let’s get home and have a nice drink. Get in, get in!”

  Alice stopped, the hair at the back of her neck suddenly standing to attention, and pulled her hand away. “Lily, is your husband home at the moment?” The smell – was it the memory of it, the fear of it?

  “No, why?” Lily asked, and Alice took a step back at the suddenly shrill note in her voice. She hadn’t expected this. It wasn’t his style. He was a conman, a dodger and dealer, but he never liked getting his hands dirty. He was always one step back from the action, never quite able to be blamed. So he wouldn’t—

  “Hello, Alice,” a familiar voice said, and a hand closed firmly over her shoulder, accompanied by the prick of a needle against her neck. “Get in, please.”

  She considered running, but there wouldn’t be time. If he’d been prepared to come out and meet her in public, he’d be prepared to press the plunger in the needle home. And, in the end, wasn’t this why she’d called Lily? To know?

  She put one hand on the car door and said, “I was planning to.”

  20

  Miriam

  By the time Miriam pulled carefully into the lay-by near the farm, the shadows were deepening under the trees, and the fields where the lowering light touched them were rich and gold-edged. A shabby van that seemed mostly made of rust held together by stickers was pulled up at the far end of the lay-by where the walking track started, and there were folding chairs and bean bags outside it. Someone was cooking sausages over a very cheap-looking barbecue, and Gert was just climbing out of her car, accompanied by Jasmine with Primrose still in her carrier, and Priya looking most unusual in running shoes and leggings.

  Miriam looked at the dragons and said, “You should probably stay here.”

  “Miriam, is that your sister?” Beaufort asked. “The one with the tree?”

  “Yes,” Miriam sighed. “It is indeed my sister with the tree.” She’d called her earlier, while the W.I. were getting organised, and she was already regretting it. Rainbow (who wasn’t really called Rainbow at all, but got very upset if anyone called her anything else) had made a career out of protesting, and rather objected to the fact that Miriam had given it up after her younger years. She’d been defending a fallen tree when the dragons had encountered her in the spring, and she seemed to have much the same group with her now. Harriet from the bookshop, Rob, apparently wearing the same camouflage suit he’d been wearing then, a slim young woman with artful dreadlocks, and–— “oh no.”

  “Oh dear,” Beaufort agreed. “No one move. Maybe he won’t see us.”

  But a skinny bearded man had bounded out of his seat and run across to the car, ignoring Miriam entirely. He was barefoot and wearing nothing but a piece of cloth, although that was an improvement. Miriam had seen him running around in less, and she had no desire to see it again. “Spirits!” the man shouted gleefully, and hauled the car door open, leaning into the passenger seat. He grabbed Beaufort’s face in both hands, and the High Lord stared at him in alarm. “Earth spirits! Air spirits!”

  “Should we be worried?” Amelia asked, muffled by Mortimer’s wing.

  “Yes,” Mortimer said, and Miriam sighed.

  “You’re sure about this?” Rainbow was saying. “They’re planning to clear this glorious wood?”

  “I don’t know, exactly,” Miriam said. She’d tried to drag the over-friendly Barry away from the car, but she’d been making more of a scene doing that than leaving him, and the rest of the W.I. were arriving. She hadn’t wanted to leave them alone with Rainbow. “All the people are gone from the farms, and all the livestock as well.”

  “I noticed that,” Harriet said. “It’s weird.”

  “We should go check out the farms,” Rob said. “See if they’ve got any machines hidden over there. Then, boom, you know.”

  “No, don’t do that,” Miriam said. “You don’t want to get arrested for trespassing.”

  “Hazard of the job,” Rainbow said, folding her arms. Her hair bushed out wildly from her head, although she had tamed it under a pink scarf. “You want our help, we do it our way.”

  “You asked for their help?” Gert demanded. “Oh, that’s going to keep things really low-key, Miriam.”

  “I thought more people might be helpful,” Miriam said. “And, you know, Rainbow’s very good at this sort of thing.”

  “Good at being a pain in the bum,” Gert mumbled, and Rainbow glared at her.

  “Look, if you get arrested, who’ll protect the woods?” Miriam asked hurriedly.

  There was a silence, then Harriet said, “She’s quite right.”

  “I’ll go take a look,” the young woman with the dreadlocks said. “They’ll never see me. I’ll be too quick.”

  “No, really,” Miriam said. “It’ll need all of you, anyway, if they start. To stand in front of the bulldozers and that sort of thing.”

  “So, you want us to protest this for you. Where’re you lot going to be?” Rainbow demanded. “Home on the sofa, watching the soaps and twiddling your thumbs?”

  “Would we be here if that was the case
?” Rose demanded. She’d changed into black trousers and a black fleece, and had a black woolly hat on her head, the bobble sticking straight up.

  “Well, you’re hardly going to do anything, right?” the young woman with the dreadlocks asked. She was called something terribly posh. Jemima, Miriam thought. “This isn’t a damn tea party.”

  “Mind your manners,” Teresa said. “You don’t know who you’re talking to.”

  “The Skipton Bridge Club?”

  “The Toot Hansell Women’s Institute,” Teresa said. “And you have no idea what we’re capable of.”

  Jemima opened her mouth, probably to say something rude, and Gert took a step forward, folded arms heavy and muscular, a rather alarmed mermaid bobbing on one. Jemima sniffed, and subsided.

  There was a moment’s silence, then Pearl said, “Does anyone want a cuppa? I brought a thermos.”

  “Oh, that’d be nice,” Rosemary said. “I’ve got some parkin.”

  “Is this a picnic to you?” Rob demanded. “This is war!”

  “An army marches on its stomach,” Carlotta said.

  “Homemade parkin?” Harriet asked.

  “And flapjack,” Rose said. “Easy to eat on the move.”

  “I suppose we could be waiting a while,” Rainbow said, eyeing the Tupperware containers and thermoses emerging from bags and cars. The W.I. did not travel without provisions.

  Miriam took a moment to hurry back to the car, feeling a bit queasy. She should have stopped to have a proper dinner, rather than just cake.

  Barry was still in the car. Beaufort had clambered across onto the driver’s seat and was wedged against the door, trying to stop Barry stroking his back.

  “Nice earth spirit,” Barry crooned. “So nice!”

  “I should like this to stop now,” Beaufort said, as Miriam opened the door. “Can we get out?”