Amanda Cadabra and The Flawless Plan

by Holly Bell

  Amanda released a huge sigh of relief and collapsed onto a stool by her bench.

  ‘Thank you, Uncle Mike. You saved me.’

  ‘Trelawney saved you, Amanda. And he was right, wasn’t he? You had been down there, hadn’t you?’

  ‘Yes but …’

  ‘For the best of reasons I’m sure. But next time be more careful with your feet,’ he advised her. ’Whoever went down there to set up the murder was far more thorough than you about messing up their footprints.’

  ‘How did he know I’d been into the basement?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s one of us, my dear. Maybe it’s time you started putting a few of your cards on the table. So far he’s been showing you his entire hand, and you’ve been just giving him a peek at your two of clubs.’

  ‘I can’t. I mustn’t tell. I mustn’t ever tell. Granny and Grandpa always told me —’

  ‘I bet they’re telling you that you can trust him.’

  She was quiet, not knowing what to say. She had kept her secret so long. So long it was ingrained in every fibre of her being to say nothing, show nothing, admit nothing. She dared not break silence just because Uncle Mike, whom she had known so short a time and was a close friend of the inspector, told her it was safe.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Hogarth assured her. ‘In your own time. The important thing is that you’re safe now. Anyway, I had a little chat with Maxwell on the phone, and, on Monday, he’ll get you the all clear to go down to that basement officially, and do your thing, as you’ve been straining at the leash to do,’ he remarked with amusement.

  ‘Fantastic! Finally!’ exclaimed Amanda joyfully. ‘Can I go and see Victor Woodberry too?’

  ‘Yes, but try not to tread on Baker’s toes, OK?’

  ‘Yes, yes of course,’ she agreed at once. ‘He’s such a nice man, I’d never want to upset him.’

  ‘I’ve turned Trelawney around, and he’s heading back to his station. You don’t need him now, do you?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘You’ll see him on Saturday anyway. He’s done you proud. Give him a big hug.’

  ‘Certainly not!’ said Amanda stiffly.

  Hogarth chuckled. ‘You sound just like him, you know.’

  ‘Never mind that, Uncle Mike. I will, of course, thank him most sincerely for his intervention.’

  ‘You do that.’

  Chapter 41

  What Sophy Saw

  Although Amanda would have to wait until Monday to get a pass to the crime scene, there was now one thing she was free to do the next day. Senara agreed: visit the crypt and call the owner of the gold thimble.

  Tempest padded down the stone steps ahead of Amanda. He went to the wall about three feet from the end of the sarcophagus under which Amanda had found the thimble, sat down and fixed a meaningful stare on her face.

  ‘Aha. X marks the spot does it?’ She slid down next to him, leaving a space between cat and tomb. ‘What do I do now? I don’t know the child’s name. Oh well, here goes.’ She took a breath and called softly:

  ‘Hello? … I think I have a thimble that belongs to you? … Please come and talk to me … and my cat.’

  Nothing.

  ‘He’s very nice,’ — a statement that most of the village would have asserted to be manifestly false, but Tempest thought it touching that, at that moment at least, his witch believed it.

  They waited.

  Tempest sighed. Clearly, she was getting nowhere. He got up, walked around in the empty space purring and called:

  ‘Mrrrowwwwl.’

  The stone steps leading up into the church disappeared. The artificial lights were replaced by lamps in sconces and lit candles on an altar at one end of the crypt. They cast their warm light up onto the low vault. All of the coffins had gone except the one beside them and one other. The flames flickered in a draft coming through a door ajar in the wall opposite the altar. The place had transformed from burial chamber to the chapel it had once been.

  A little girl of about eight years of age, with short fair ringlets, wearing a simple pale, long-sleeved dress over pantalets, sat huddled in a shawl in the corner beside Tempest. She looked at him with a forlorn expression, then up at Amanda with large scared eyes.

  ‘Hello. My name’s Amanda, and this is Tempest. Do you like cats?’

  She nodded.

  ‘So do I. You can stroke him if you like.’

  She put out a little hand and Tempest tolerated her fingers brushing over his fur.

  ‘You know,’ continued Amanda conversationally, ‘he doesn’t like just anyone stroking him. So you must be special.’ The child looked at Amanda more confidently. ‘You can say hello to him.’

  ‘Hello, Tempest,’ said the girl, finding her voice at last.

  ‘You can tell him your name,’ prompted Amanda.

  ‘I’m Sophy.’

  ‘What a lovely name. It has a soft and gentle sound.’

  ‘Actually its Sophia, Miss. Sophia Aldenham.’

  ‘I like Sophy best,’ commented Amanda warmly.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘It’s not very comfortable here, is it?’ Amanda observed.

  ‘It’s safe though,’ Sophy pointed out.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Safe from what?’

  ‘The grownups.’

  ‘Are they dangerous?’ asked Amanda in concern.

  ‘Yes, when they’re cross!’ declared Sophy. ‘They shout and go on at you.’

  ‘Are they cross with you?’

  ‘No, but they would be if they found out. But, oh! That’s not the worst of it,’ insisted Sophy, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘You can tell me,’ said Amanda, tucking the little girl’s shawl more securely around her. ‘I promise not to tell.’

  ‘It was all my fault. If I hadn’t got Percy to come with me up into the hayloft, he would never have fallen through!’

  ‘Is that what happened?’

  ‘Yes, you see the servants have their own dance in the Big Barn, and we had been sent to bed after the big house dance, but that was dull anyway, and I went and got Percy, and said let’s go and watch the dance at the Big Barn. He said we oughtn’t, but I told him it would fun and no one would know. Only the hayloft floor broke, and he fell down,’ she finished woefully.

  ‘Was he hurt?’ enquired Amanda.

  ‘No, he fell into the trifle,’ replied Sophy matter-of-factly.

  Amanda bit her lip as her little friend continued,

  ‘And I should have owned up that I was up there too, but I was scared, and I ratted, and now he’ll never forgive me!’

  Amanda pulled a tissue from her pocket and mopped Sophy’s face, then hastily hid it before the little girl could register the strange nature of the handkerchief.

  ‘Have you been back to the hayloft to try and find him?’ suggested Amanda.

  ‘Yes, but all I see is the two gentlemen, and they don’t see me, so I can’t ask them a thing about what happened,’ explained Sophy in a mixture of despair and exasperation.

  ‘What gentlemen where they?’

  ‘A small dark one who comes up the ladder and a tall, fair one who just sort of appears on the pile of hay.’

  ‘I see. Do you remember what happened the next day?’

  ‘We went away. I mean our family.’

  ‘Far away?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘India. But I’m here now, and I’m not coming out until Percy says he’ll forgive me and I know the grownups won’t be cross ... oh dear… ,’said Sophy and faded.

  ‘Oh dear, indeed,’ remarked Amanda to her feline. ‘I wish I could help her. Meanwhile … a short dark man — no idea who that could be — and a tall, fair one. Well, I can make a shrewd guess at who that might be.’ The cat led the way up out of the crypt, as she went on,

  ‘Progress, Tempest. Come on, let’s get home. Thank you for your assistance. I was impressed by your tact and expertise in handling the situation.’

  He gave her a benign glance and a nod.
It did her credit that she had some conception of his worth. Of course, he doubted he could ever reveal the stature of his true nature; it would be too much for the little thing. It always was for humans. But, she was coming along nicely. Perhaps one day ….

  ***

  On Saturday, Trelawney behaved just as usual at the class. When he came back to the cottage, she thanked him profusely as, unusually, he sat beside her on the sofa and took her hands.

  ‘Miss Cadabra, you don’t have to say anything more.’

  ‘Inspector, I owe you this much: I did go down there. Please don’t ask me how.’

  ‘I won't.’

  ‘How did you know?’ Amanda asked curiously.

  Trelawney released her hands and went over to the fireplace. He looked back at her, shaking his head slightly. ‘I just knew. I know that that’s no sort of an answer, but I just knew you had to have been there. It was as though there was a video of it running in front of my eyes.’ He became decisive. ‘But never mind. If you really want to thank me, make me a cup of tea while I get this burning.’

  She laughed. ‘That’s the least I can do.’

  He left soon after, tactfully refraining from asking her what her investigatory plans were for the coming week.

  Chapter 42

  Indignation

  Sure enough, on Monday came the text from Maxwell:

  Baker will be on duty noon till 1 pm. I’ve told him to expect you. You’ll have a safe window except for the 10 minutes at either end of that. Good luck. M

  Amanda hastily changed out of her overalls into …. ‘What should I wear?’ Tempest yawned and closed his eyes. What was this obsession humans had with clothing? He supposed as they were impoverished in the fur department it was understandable. Tempest licked one luxuriantly covered paw smugly.

  ‘Oh, you’re no help,’ said Amanda to him impatiently. ‘Granny? What were they wearing in 1918?’

  ‘Just put on one of my longer skirts and your hair in a bun. Hurry,’ replied Senara, without bothering to materialise.

  Amanda had not moved into her grandparents’ room, and Senara’s clothes were where she’d left them. Her granddaughter found a grey skirt that came almost to her ankles as Senara was considerably taller than Amanda. She quickly pulled her hair up.

  As she and Tempest approached, Baker gave her a friendly nod and greeting, eyed her feline askance, opened the hall front door for them, and walked away.

  Witch and familiar entered. The hall was silent. The floor gaped. Amanda crept to the edge of the ragged-edged hole and couldn’t help peering over to check that the body had gone.

  All clear. She called out,

  ‘Captain Dunkley?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Captain Fortescue Dunkley?’

  Amanda couldn’t see much down there, and looked around the hall in case he was going to appear above ground.

  ‘You, girl!’

  She gasped in shock.

  ‘You startled me!’ Amanda exclaimed.

  ‘You startled me, sir, if you please. Come down here. Come down here at once,’ said Dunkley imperiously.

  His attitude rankled, but Amanda remembered that she wanted a favour from him and replied accordingly. ‘Er, yes, sir. I’ll be right there.’

  She hurried around the side of the hall, saying to Tempest. ‘What does he think I am? A servant?’ Her familiar agreed. He didn’t appreciate people thinking she was their servant.

  Amanda used the keys to the cellar doors and approached the scene of the accident.

  ‘Ah. Good,’ remarked Dunkley. ‘Now. I demand an explanation.’

  ‘Of what?’ she asked, then hastily added, ‘Sir.’

  ‘Where everyone has gorn and why I can’t get back upstairs.’

  ‘Erm, well,’ replied Amanda, playing for time to consider the most effective response.

  ‘And who is that woman and those other persons in very odd costume? It seems to me there’s been some smoky business going on here. Very smoky indeed, and ending in what I’d regard as a dastardly business,’ Dunkley stated.

  ‘Captain Dunkley, I will tell you what I know and do my best to help you. But I need you to tell me exactly what you’ve seen while you’ve been here, the people you’ve seen and what they have been doing.’

  ‘Oh no,’ he replied at once with finality. ‘I couldn’t possibly go into details.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Not the sort of thing one discusses with a lady,’ he answered straightening his lapels.

  ‘Lady? But you’ve been calling me “you girl”,’ Amanda protested.

  ‘Yes, well. Bad light. Apologies and all that sort of thing. I see now that you are, in fact, a lady, and skullduggery and the shuffling off of the mortal coil and exsanguinations are not the sort of thing with which a chap like me sullies a lady’s ears. That’s not what I fought a war for,’ Dunkley uttered decisively.

  ‘You can’t be serious. What about the horrors of the last four years?’ Amanda pointed out.

  ‘That was chaps,’ he stated shortly.

  ‘Well,’ she expostulated, ‘what about nurses and so on at the front?’

  ‘Were you a nurse?’ he asked, looking down his nose at her with a frown.

  ‘No,’ Amanda, incurably honest, admitted.

  ‘Well then,’ he replied, as though that settled that.

  ‘But—’

  ‘—please. I beg you will desist from importunities. There is nothing more to be said,’ uttered Dunkley indicating with a raised hand that this was his last word on the subject.

  Amanda let out a breath of studied patience. ‘Fine. What if I bring a man with me next time? Will you tell him?’

  ‘Certainly. Man to man. And if your gentleman friend sees fit to share the information that I shall give him with you, that is his affair,’ Dunkley stated judicially.

  ‘Gentleman friend ... all right. I’ll bring him to see you. When?’

  ‘The Christmas Ball would be best. Nothing unusual about a couple of chaps having a chat over brandy and cigars. Shady business. No saying who might be involved. If the war were still on, I’d suspect a plot. Not but what the Gerry POWs I met were decent chaps to a man. No, this is an inside job,’ he pronounced.

  Amanda gave it one last try. ‘Are you sure you can’t just tell me about it?’

  ‘Certainly not, madam. Not the thing for a little lady. Bring me your chap. Christmas Eve, 10 o’clock. You can point me out to him. What’s his name?’

  Amanda had no choice. There was only one:

  ‘Detective Inspector Trelawney.’

  ‘Hm,’ replied Dunkley impressed. ‘Good show,’ he uttered and promptly vanished.

  Amanda spluttered her way back up to the open air, repeating under breath, ‘I can't believe this! I just can’t believe this! A ghost who won’t talk to me because I’m a woman? I mean … seriously?’ Amanda thanked Sergeant Baker, and Tempest, bored by the refrain, fell asleep on the back seat during the very short journey back to the cottage.

  Amanda’s impulse was to call the inspector on the spot, but decided that this had better be explained in person. However, she needed to vent her indignation. Senara and Perran bore her rant stoically, occasionally attempting to cool her ire by explaining that things were different in those days. It fell on deaf ears.

  ‘I mean, how dare he?’ Do I look like I’m three years old or … or a Neanderthal or … or …’’

  Some 36 hours later, Aunt Amelia bore the brunt of her niece’s exasperation.

  ‘I mean … you weren’t there … but if you could have heard him! “Little lady!” Little lady indeed! And now I have to drag the inspector into it. At least, last time I had some independence. Now I need … a man!’

  ‘Have some pudding,' said Amelia comfortingly, putting a helping of marmalade roll in front of her.

  ‘You probably think I’m making too much of this,’ commented Amanda, in passing and with unwitting deadly accuracy.

  ‘Yes, dear. Here, have
some custard. You know you like it best with custard,’ Amelia replied placidly.

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Amelia. I’m glad you understand.’

  ‘Of course. It’s all rather annoying, and I don’t blame you for feeling a trifle put out, but you‘ve said that for reasons you can’t divulge —’

  ‘ —Yes, I have to respect his confidence.’

  ‘And that does you credit, sweetie. But you’ve said that the inspector will understand and very likely cooperate. So, you are managing the situation admirably. And by the end of Christmas Eve, you’ll have all of your answers to who and how and when of the murder. So that’s good isn’t?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Amelia,’ said Amanda, spooning some of the luscious confection into her mouth and being transported for a moment to sensory heaven.

  ‘I’m sure it’s all for the best,’ soothed Amelia.

  ‘Hmmmm,’ replied Amanda.

  Chapter 43

  A First for Thomas

  Trelawney put the other half of his shortbread biscuit on his napkin, leaned back in Perran’s favourite chair by the fire opposite Amanda, and said,

  ‘I had the feeling all through the class that there was something you were eager to impart to me.’

  Amanda took a deep breath and uttered, ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m all ears,’ he said invitingly.

  ‘Well …’

  And in that pause, he knew. She’s been back down there, he thought. Of course, she has. That’s what she did last time. Went back to the scene of the crime where she was — what was it she and Baker said? — ‘sensing things’. Maxwell got her a pass again, but … this time… it hasn’t gone according to plan …

  ‘It’s a bit awkward,’ she muttered.

  ‘How about,’ Trelawney intervened, coming to her aid, ‘if I tell you about a conversation I had with my father on Tuesday? Perhaps it might help.’