by H. Y. Hanna
“No,” James admitted. “They are all my tenants, of course, but my estate manager deals with the day-to-day details of their tenancy and has more personal contact with them than I do. I am familiar with many of the longtime residents, though, such as Jeremy Bottom—I would be willing to stake my reputation on his innocence.”
Inspector Walsh waved a hand. “Aye, aye, I’m not suspecting the old residents like Jeremy. But what about some of the newcomers?”
James hesitated, obviously not liking to point the finger. “As you know, Inspector, several of the villagers have been very unhappy with Minerva’s presence in Tillyhenge. Many came to see me to voice their concerns, after she arrived last week. There was one man in particular, called Lawrence Ford, who is a lawyer—”
“Oh! The man who was trying to force his way into the Manor yesterday!” cried Caitlyn.
The inspector raised his eyebrows. “What’s this?”
“Lawrence Ford came to the Manor last night demanding to see Minerva Chattox,” James explained. “He was extremely angry. I managed to calm him down and had a brief chat with him. He and his wife had been trying for many years to conceive, you see, and Susan, his wife, was getting desperate. They'd tried IVF and various other conventional methods, but hadn’t had any success. Then Susan met Minerva in the village and the latter must have immediately seen her chance: here was a desperate, vulnerable woman willing to try anything… Apparently, Minerva promised Susan that she could be pregnant before the end of the month. Naturally, this required a complex spell with special candles that had to be burned and magical crystals and ritual oils… and the whole thing came to several thousand pounds—”
“Several thousand pounds!” Inspector Walsh spluttered. “Are people mad?”
James gave him a dry look. “Yes, you can imagine Ford’s reaction when he found out—which he only did because he was checking his bank account and found the large withdrawals that his wife had made. He was furious and rushed straight over to the pub to confront Minerva. There was a pretty nasty scene, by all accounts. She, of course, refused to refund the money or admit that she was a fraud. In fact, she contacted Susan after Lawrence left and told her that due to the disturbance caused by her husband, the spell had been damaged and might not be effective now.”
“Oh… that’s clever, because any failure of the spell would now be Lawrence’s fault, not hers,” said Caitlyn.
James nodded. “Yes, very clever. And vindictive too. As expected, Susan blamed her husband for everything and they had a very unpleasant row when he returned home. Things were already very strained between them; the infertility issue had taken its toll on their relationship, I believe, and I think this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”
Inspector Walsh whistled. “There are plenty of motives there for Lawrence Ford to want to murder Minerva: she stole his money, turned his wife against him—”
“Yes, but I don’t see Ford as the kind of man to resort to murder,” protested James. “He’s a lawyer—in fact, he specialises in fraud. So I imagine he would use his professional abilities and the weight of the law to prosecute Minerva and make her pay.”
Inspector Walsh shrugged. “It’s one thing arguing a client’s case; it’s another when it affects your own family. In my experience, when people are angry and emotional, they often want a more personal sort of vengeance.”
Silently, Caitlyn agreed with the old detective. She thought back to Lawrence Ford’s intrusion at the Manor the day before. The man had a serious problem controlling his temper and an obviously violent streak when he was angry. Would his emotions have got the better of him and caused him to murder Minerva? Except… Caitlyn frowned. Tying the fake witch to a stool and throwing her into the pit in the icehouse didn’t sound like the kind of thing a man in the middle of a furious temper would do. She could imagine Lawrence Ford simply jumping on Minerva and strangling her, rather than planning such an elaborate killing. It’s the stool, she thought. That’s what makes this whole murder so weird…
Inspector Walsh thanked them and turned away to head into the woods to see the crime scene, but Caitlyn stopped him and asked:
“Inspector—why do you think they tied her to a stool? Was it just to weigh her down and make her sink?”
The old detective frowned. “I’m not sure. I’ve come across some drowned murder victims in in my time, where the bodies were weighed down, but it’s usually done using bricks or stones… This is most unusual, and unlike anything I’ve seen before. It almost has suggestions of—” He broke off and gave his head a shake. “Well, anyway. I’m sure we will know more once the post-mortem report comes in.”
Caitlyn was silent as she watched him walk away. She knew what the old detective had been going to say: that it almost had suggestions of ritual sacrifice. She shivered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With the murder investigation underway and the forensics team working the area, James needed to remain at Huntingdon Manor, so there was no question of going to the veterinary clinic that day. Caitlyn was eager to get away from the reminders of her gruesome discovery, and she was grateful when a police car heading to Tillyhenge offered her a lift.
“Why don’t you leave Nibs here?” James suggested as she attempted to catch the kitten and put him back in the cat carrier. “He’s been with you for a couple of weeks now and all the staff keep asking me when he’s coming back.”
Caitlyn smiled to herself. She and James had worked out an arrangement where Nibs lived part of the time with her at the chocolate shop and part of the time at the Manor. But everyone had fallen so in love with the mischievous little kitten (he had even managed to win over the Widow Mags!) that each side was always impatient for their turn.
“I’ve rearranged the appointment with David Liddell for tomorrow morning,” James continued. “You can just come here and pick up Nibs, then get a lift with me and Bran to the vet clinic.”
“Oh… I don’t want to give you trouble, though. I could just take my own car—”
“Don’t be silly. I’m going with Bran anyway.”
Caitlyn glanced at Nibs, who was playing with the mastiff’s tail, trying to catch the tip as it wagged slowly back and forth. The kitten seemed happily settled now. It would be kinder to leave him with his big friend, rather than drag him back and forth to the village again. “All right. I’ll come over first thing in the morning. Thank you.” She smiled at James and made to get into the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow then—”
“Wait, Caitlyn…” James put out a hand to stop her. “I hear that Pomona has just returned from London? I thought she might stay up here at the Manor as she’s done in the past.”
“No, I think she’s staying in Bertha’s cottage this time.”
“Ah. Well, I was wondering if the two of you might be free for dinner tonight? I’m expecting a guest—if you’ll remember, an old friend of my father is coming to stay for a few days. He arrives later today and I’m sure Mrs Pruett is gearing up for a veritable banquet!”
“You mean you’re just inviting us as extra mouths to eat all the food?” Caitlyn teased.
James chuckled. “How did you guess my ulterior motive? No, but seriously, it would be lovely to have you.”
“Thanks. I’m sure Pomona will be free—we weren’t planning to do anything—so we’d love to come. Do we need to dress up? Will it be a formal dinner?”
“Oh no… it will just be a casual meal. Anyway, you always look lovely whatever you wear,” he added gallantly.
Still warm with pleasure at James’s compliment, Caitlyn bid him goodbye and got into the waiting police car. When she alighted in Tillyhenge a short while later, she was surprised to spot Evie and Pomona standing next to a makeshift stall erected on one side of the village green. A homemade banner was propped above the stall, with “Bewitched by Chocolate” scrawled across it in loopy writing and decorated with swirls and stars. Both her cousins were sporting identical frilly aprons and caps, although Pomona look
ed a lot more glamorous than Evie in hers, and they seemed to be offering something on trays to passers-by.
Caitlyn hurried towards them, catching a whiff of a rich, chocolaty aroma as she got closer, and she saw that the trays were filled with small brown squares, each sprinkled with chopped nuts. Chocolate hazelnut brownies. The smell of the toasted hazelnuts combined with the bittersweet cocoa and rich fudge was mouth-watering. Several tourists were gathered around the stall, eagerly helping themselves to the samples, and Caitlyn could see Evie pointing down a nearby lane, obviously giving them directions.
Pomona glanced up and, when she saw Caitlyn, abandoned her tray and rushed over to meet her. “Omigod, Caitlyn—is it true? Has there been another murder?”
Caitlyn nodded grimly. “It’s Minerva Chattox. She’s been drowned.” Quickly, she told her cousin the events of the morning and Pomona’s eyes grew round as she listened.
“Holy guacamole…! You say she was tied to a chair?”
“Well, it was a stool, really, but yeah, that was really weird. Inspector Walsh said he’d never seen anything like it before—he said it’s usually bricks or stones that are used to weigh people down in the water. You know, it was creepy enough finding her in the icehouse, but the stool makes it even more—” She broke off as she saw Pomona’s expression. “What?”
Pomona lowered her voice: “You know that being tied to a chair and then thrown into a pool of water was one of the classic tests used in witch trials, right?”
“What do you mean?”
Pomona gave her an impatient look. “Jeez, Caitlyn, don’t you know anything? When they used to have those witch trials in England, they had, like, several ways to test if someone was a witch. This was one of them: you tie a woman to a chair and throw her into the village pond. If she sinks, then that means she’s innocent, but if she floats, then that’s proof that she’s a witch. So then they’d pull her out and, like, hang her or burn her at the stake.”
“What?” Caitlyn stared at her cousin, aghast. “But… but that’s ridiculous! To be innocent, she has to drown—and if somehow she gets lucky enough not to drown, she’s condemned and executed anyway?”
“Exactly! It’s one of those ‘damned if you do and damned if you don't’ situations. All the tests were unfair like that. Or they were rigged.” Pomona leaned forwards earnestly as she warmed to her subject. “Like, one of the other tests was based on the ‘Devil’s Mark’. That’s basically a mole or even, like, a flea bite on the poor woman who was accused. The witch hunters would stick a pin into the mark, to see if the woman would bleed. If she didn’t, then that was proof that she was a witch. But they used a special ‘jabbing needle’ that had a blunt retractable spike, right? It retracted into the handle as soon as they pushed it against the woman’s skin. Well, of course she never felt anything and it never bled!”
“That’s disgusting,” cried Caitlyn. “That’s just cheating and condemning an innocent woman!”
“Oh yeah! The trials were freaking unfair. They used to torture the women too, until they ‘confessed’ to being witches. But, see, witch hunters got paid really well for their services and they’d get all the witch’s lands and possessions too, if they proved them guilty, so… everyone wanted in on the game.”
“Where did you learn all this stuff, Pomie?” asked Caitlyn, impressed in spite of herself.
Pomona rolled her eyes. “I told you—I read!”
“I read too,” said Caitlyn indignantly.
“Yeah, but I read the right kind of books,” said Pomona with a grin. “You never used to believe in magic and witchcraft, remember? So you never wanted to read about the occult and stuff like that, whereas I read everything I could get my hands on! I was really fascinated by the Salem witch trials and then I found this book about witch hunting in Europe, which is what led to the Salem stuff, you know—I mean, all the superstitions in New England were from the English settlers who came to America. Anyway, the book had these really cool illustrations and details about the witch trials in England, especially during the seventeenth century—that was when they had this big wave of witch hunts. Do you know, they think, like, fifty thousand people were executed as witches in Europe during that time?”
Caitlyn looked at her in horror. “That’s awful. Especially when most of them were probably framed—I mean, based on those ‘tests’ you described, the witch hunters sounded like con artists themselves, just targeting random people so they could get money for exposing witches.”
“Yeah, you could say that… and you know what?” Pomona’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that Minerva Chattox—who was a scammer herself—was killed by a method used by scammy witch hunters?”
“It also suggests that whoever killed her knew a lot about the history of witch hunting and the tests used in the witch trials,” said Caitlyn thoughtfully. “I should tell Inspector Walsh about this. It might help him find Minerva’s killer. Maybe he can even use this when he’s questioning suspects, trick them into showing their knowledge—”
“Hi, Caitlyn!”
They turned to see Evie waving at them from the stall and Pomona gave a guilty start.
“Yikes… I totally forgot that I left Evie to hold the fort.”
“What are you guys doing?” asked Caitlyn as she followed Pomona back to the stall.
“We’re giving out free samples from Bewitched by Chocolate! I got the idea when I was down in London—I saw all these people standing around the food halls in the department stores, handing out samples of stuff, and I was like: Why don’t we do that? I mean, the Widow Mags’s chocolates are so delicious, right? People snap them up as soon as they taste them! But the problem is, like, most of the time, they don’t even know the chocolate shop exists, ’cos it’s tucked way down that lane at the bottom of the village. We’ve tried having a sign here on the village green—which helped a bit—but there’s nothing like giving people a sample and getting them hooked!” She grinned.
“What a great idea.” Caitlyn glanced at the small bite-sized chunks on the trays. “Are those some of the Widow Mags’s chocolate hazelnut brownies?”
“Yeah, she was making a batch for the shop anyway so I convinced her to give me a couple of pieces to chop up into samples.” Pomona reached out and grabbed a chunk from the tray. “Omigod, Caitlyn—these brownies… you gotta taste some! They are ah-mazing! Like, so rich and fudgy and moist and chewy but they’ve also got this, like, crispy crust on top, and the Widow Mags put her special homemade chocolate hazelnut butter on the bottom of the pan before she added the brownie mixture and then she sprinkled chopped roasted hazelnuts on top… these are the brownies to end all brownies! Man, I think I ate, like, ten pieces in one go this morning!”
Caitlyn obediently took the morsel from Pomona and put it in her mouth. It really was incredible. The rich decadent flavours of dark chocolate and cocoa combined beautifully with the sweetness of the homemade hazelnut butter, and the soft, moist centre of the brownie almost melted in her mouth. The chopped hazelnuts added a wonderful crunchy texture to each bite, and as she swallowed her first mouthful, she was already reaching for a second piece.
Pomona laughed and slapped her hand away. “Hey! These are for the tourists.”
“Aww, come on, Pomie—just one more piece?” pleaded Caitlyn.
“Oh, okay—just one more.”
“Thanks.” Caitlyn grabbed another delicious brown morsel and shoved it into her mouth, chewing slowly to make it last longer. “I hope the Widow Mags has some left in the shop—it’ll be nice to take a box as a gift when we go over to the Manor for dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” Pomona raised her eyebrows.
Caitlyn told her about James’s dinner invitation and Pomona gasped. “Omigod! I gotta get back and wash my hair! And I’ve got, like, nothing to wear—”
“You’ve probably got more outfits in your ‘overnight bag’ than most people have in their entire wardrobes,” Caitlyn said wryly. “Besides, James said it
’s just a casual meal.”
“You can’t trust what he tells you. Men have no idea,” said Pomona, rolling her eyes. Then she gave Caitlyn a stern look. “I hope you’re going to put on a nice dress and some make-up.”
“I… um… yes, I was going to,” Caitlyn admitted, blushing slightly.
“Good. You gotta look fabulous and wow James… I can’t believe you guys didn’t kiss after I went to all the trouble of locking you two in that cow shed—”
“Yes, I still want to kill you for that!” said Caitlyn indignantly.
“—and then James had to go overseas for weeks,” continued Pomona, ignoring her. “Man, getting you two together is harder than getting hold of an Hermés Birkin bag! Seriously, if I don’t see you two kissing by Christmas—and I mean a real kiss, with tongue,” she added sternly, “—I’m gonna tie you both to a bed. Naked.”
“Pomie!” said Caitlyn, her face flaming. Hurriedly, she glanced at Evie, who was just seeing off the last group of tourists, and tried to change the subject. “Evie—would you like to come to dinner at the Manor too? I’m sure James would love to see you as well.”
Evie hesitated, then shook her head. “I… um… I’ve got stuff to do tonight.”
“Ooh… have you got a hot date? You never told me!” Pomona squealed.
“No, no, nothing like that!” said Evie, flushing. “I just…” She glanced around at the relatively empty village green, then lowered her voice. “Mum’s out tonight at some herbalist association dinner so I’ve got the house to myself and I want to use the chance to practise some spells.”
“Why can’t you practise them when she’s there?”
Evie shifted her weight. “Well… um… they’re not the sort of spells that she would approve of.”
Pomona raised her eyebrows. “You’re not dabbling in love spells again, are you?”
“No!” said Evie, flushing even redder. “No… I… I’m learning how to use magic to… well, get back at people.”
