by Holly Bell
Amanda, glad to have the dreaded moment of revelation forestalled, eagerly assented.
‘Thank you. I mean, please do, Inspector.’
‘I was telling my father that you are a furniture restorer like Perran was ....’
***
‘Was?’ queried Kytto Trelawney
‘Perran and Senara are dead,’ Thomas explained.
Kyt shook his head with a slight but knowing smile. ‘Transitioned, you mean. There is no way in which those two are going to leave Amanda by herself.’
‘Transitioned? To another dimension, you mean? But they’re still around?’
‘Exactly.’
Thomas went quiet again. His head was buzzing. Partly he had a sense of the surreal, having this outlandish conversation with his father after all these years, partly a sense of closeness to him that he’d never felt before. But right now, it was as though his eyes were opening to who it was, who he … could be.
‘Is it possible, Dad, that, as someone with this intuition talent, I would be able to hear them?’
‘Entirely, son,’ said his father with conviction.
‘Then … I think I can.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘You see, there have been times when I’ve been with Miss Cadabra, and I’ve heard voices in my head, and found myself repeating the same words as though they were my own, and then realising that I hadn’t actually thought those words myself.’
‘Yes, yes, that’s how it would be,’ confirmed Kyt.
***
‘So,’ continued Trelawney, ‘it turns out that, not only can I can see future possibilities and present events in my tea, but … I hear dead people,’ he finished on a rueful note.
Amanda nodded slowly.
‘Does that help you at all with what you want to tell me?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Actually, it does.’ Emboldened, she commenced, ‘You see, last time I found a body —’
‘No need to go into that,’ said Trelawney, helpfully. ‘I think I know what happened when you revisited the crime scene.’
‘Ah. All right then. Well, you see the first time I went to the hall with the rector, she left me alone there for a few minutes and, even though at that time, the floor was intact, I saw the hole, much as it is now, only there was a man who’d fallen down it. He was in regimentals; I think, First World War. He was blustering about how he hadn’t come through the War to end up in a hole and where was everyone, and he wanted to get back upstairs.’
‘He was someone who’d … transitioned?’
‘Yes. And he fell through in the same place as Majolica, and, for an instant, I did see a woman and him at the same time, falling through. So I thought maybe he saw what happened to her and what and who caused it.’
‘Logical.’
‘So, as soon as I got the text from Chief Inspector Maxwell giving me the go-ahead, I went back to the hall and called the man and he appeared.’
‘So far so good. And did he see all that happened?’
‘Yes, in fact, it’s been pretty busy in that hall. He mentioned people in what must be modern dress coming and going and engaging in acts of “skullduggery” that ended in such distressing events that …. and you’re not going to believe this! …’
‘Try me.’
‘He won’t tell me!’ finished Amanda in exasperation.
‘Oh. A secretive ghost,’ remarked Trelawney.
‘No,’ she corrected him. ‘He wouldn’t tell me because I’m a woman!’
‘Really?’
‘He said it wasn’t fit for a lady’s ears.’
‘Dear me. I’m beginning to see where my humble services might be of use to you, Miss Cadabra,’ Trelawney commented, his lips twitching.
‘Well yes, I was coming to that. I asked if I brought a man if he’d spill the beans then. And he said he would. But only to you, and, if you chose to tell me, that was your affair,’ explained Amanda, with a toss of the head.
‘Outrageous.’
‘Antiquated!’
Trelawney was struggling to keep his countenance. The absurdity of the situation was overcoming his self-control. He manufactured a coughing fit and masked his mouth.
‘Are you laughing?’ asked Amanda accusingly. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘I’m sorry, Miss Cadabra. But are you sure it isn’t?’
She managed the smallest of smiles.
‘I suppose, just the tiniest bit. Snookered by a stuffy ghost. But what if you hadn’t been available? What would I have done then?’
‘Has it occurred to you,’ he asked reasonably, ‘that this has happened to bring us both a little more into the open with one another, and that, one day, that may be especially important?
Amanda hadn’t looked at it that way.
‘Well,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose so. So you’ll do it then?’
‘Of course. Er, what exactly do I need to do?’ he asked uncertainly.
‘Hm … I suppose it would help if you dressed for the period. It’s a bit short notice, but I could ask Sandra and Mrs Sharma and Joan to put it about that the Christmas Ball is optional black tie. I think it’s actually the New Year’s Eve Ball that’s period costume, but black tie would certainly cover 1918 evening dress, I’d imagine.’
‘All right. I’m sure I can rustle up something,’ Trelawney agreed.
‘And then, you have to meet him. His name is Captain Fortescue Dunkley, by the way —’
‘Fortescue?’ he asked with a shade of amusement.
‘Yes, I know! Anyway, you have to meet him at 10 o’clock. So we’d have to slip away from Sandra’s party, at the Snout and Trough function room, just before then. I am to point him out to you, and then you go and introduce yourself to him as Detective Inspector Trelawney. I could see that your title impressed him no end, the nincompoop,’ Amanda added scornfully.
‘Thank you, Miss Cadabra.’
‘Oh, I don’t mean … anyway …’
‘Yes, you will lurk somewhere within earshot, and I will get the goods. Is that the idea?’ he enquired cordially.
‘Exactly,’ Amanda confirmed.
‘Understood,’ responded Trelawney, unable to banish the twinkle from his eye. Amanda observed it and remarked,
‘I’m so glad that you’re enjoying all of this.’
‘It’s a first for me, Miss Cadabra,’ he replied apologetically. ‘My first time interviewing a witness from another dimension. The sense of the surreal is overwhelming, and may be making me feel a little light-headed.’
For the first time that evening, she smiled properly and shook her head. ‘I can hardly believe you’re the same person I met that day in this room when you came to see my grandparents and me for the first time.’
‘Neither can I, Miss Cadabra,’ Trelawney replied with sincerity, ‘neither can I.’
Chapter 44
The Scent is Up
All of the shops in Sunken Madley were cheerful with Christmas lights and decorations. Leo had done the salon proud with a tasteful bough stretching across the window, from which snowflakes and white and glass baubles were suspended. It was charming.
The Snout and Trough was equally elegantly attired in festive décor of gold. By contrast, The Sinner’s Rue was festooned with every light in its attic in every colour, and huge tissue stars were suspended from the ceiling, linked with coloured paper chains in the most garish colours available. But it was tradition. And the villagers liked it, in spite of their expressed horror.
Amanda had ordered all of her presents and nearly every one had arrived. One special gift was carefully packed in its red box, wrapped in marbled paper, tied with gold ribbon and hidden away upstairs on the bed in Granny and Grandpa’s room. Cards from Aunt Amelia, the Bergstroms and her fellow villagers jostled for space on the mantelpiece and every available surface in the sitting room. Mince pies, gingerbread biscuits and Christmas puddings crammed the cupboards. Cranberry-and-nutmeg-scented candles stood ready for the big day, stacked by t
he fire. The Christmas tree was up; a live one, chosen by Amanda and delivered by the nursery up the road: Muttring Breeze Trees and Plants. She had decorated it in traditional red and gold, and Tempest was being heavily bribed not to climb it.
Amanda was putting the star on the top, when the phone rang.
‘Gwendolen?’
‘Happy Christmas, dear’.
‘Happy Christmas,’ Amanda replied enthusiastically.
‘In fact,’ said Miss Armstrong-Witworth, ‘I may have an early present for you. Can you come over? I think it’s best if you see it in person.’
‘Of course. I’ll come right away,’ said Amanda, in cheerful anticipation.
Tempest perked up. A chance to annoy Churchill and an opportunity to woo the enchanting Natasha, she of the ice blue eyes, dark points and luxurious cream coat, was too good to pass up.
Minutes later, Gwendolen was ushering Amanda into the dining room, where Miss de Havillande was stretching out a large sheet of paper.
‘Good afternoon Amanda,’ she greeted her heartily.
‘Good afternoon, Miss de Havillande.’
‘Now, I shall leave this to dear Gwendolen, as this discovery owes more to her able research skills than mine. Do go ahead.’
‘Yes. We’ll have tea afterwards, shall we?’ suggested Miss Armstrong-Witworth.
‘That’s fine,’ said Amanda.
‘Come here, dear. Now as you can see, this is a family tree, I have drawn it up to simplify matters. It has taken a while to get these facts, but here we are. Now. We have been researching the Recket family, in an attempt to discover who might be holding the Recket notes on the sabotage of the church hall that Mr Hodster described. So, for the first time, the Recket line was failing, as this tree shows. You can here see various members perishing without issue.’
Miss Armstrong-Witworth, indicated them on the diagram. ‘The last of them, Ronald Recket, the one that our dear rector had dealings with, went into partnership with a non-family member: Filippo Bogia, whom Jane also met. Now, we went in search of victims of Recket building methods, and discovered a couple who had sued Recket in the county court over work he’d done on their property, but settled out of court. I contacted them, and, fortunately, Mr and Mrs Crumbleigh-Howse were willing to talk to us. They were just over in Potters Bar so we paid them a call. Now, it turns out that Mrs Crumbleigh-Howse’s sister lives in the same village as Ronald Recket, and knows for a fact that the man is such a persistent toper of spirits that he developed cirrhosis of the liver and she doesn’t know how he’s lasted this long. Now, what if, fearing his days were running short, and having no heirs, Recket gave the papers to Bogia?’
‘OK.’
‘So we decided to investigate his partner, Mr Bogia, instead. And this, as you see, is what we found: Filippo — or “Phil” as he is known — Bogia is, in fact, of Italian extraction. He had a daughter, Bella. Now a year ago, he had a health scare, with his heart. What if — and I know that this is a lot of “what ifs”— Bogia, in the Recket tradition, gave the papers, or sent them, to his only child?’
‘And where is she?’
‘We were able to find some contact details for her, but unfortunately, it seems that she had gone to live in Australia. But we were able to discover that she had married again and subsequently divorced, but, perhaps for the sake of her children had retained her second married name: Weathersby, and has two children who still live here in the UK.’
‘Leonardo and Donatella Weathersby,’ exclaimed Amanda excitedly.
‘Indeed. Now, if I were Bella and I had those papers and had left behind my ne’er-do-well relations and made a new life in another country, what would I do with the papers?’ asked Gwendolen.
‘Destroy them so no one else could use them?’ suggested Amanda.
‘Or?’ prompted Miss Armstrong-Witworth.
‘Use them to put things right. It is possible she may have left them to her children, and for that reason,’ Amanda replied.
‘But what if her children used them for sabotage instead?’
‘But why would they do that? They didn’t know Majolica.’
‘We shall continue to dig,’ said Miss Armstrong-Witworth.
‘Hm,’ mused Amanda, ‘I wonder if Vic would see me if I called round.’
‘I don’t see why not, dear. Give it a try.’
Amanda was not given to making impromptu visits and didn’t much like receiving them. She preferred her guest appearances to be arranged in advance. However, the scent was up. Tempest, who was having no success with Natasha but furnishing her with considerable entertainment alternately luring and repulsing him, was more than ready to leave.
He sat beside her on the passenger seat, indicating that even his interest was engaged. Amanda set off out of the gates, turning right into Grange Way, left into Trotters Bottom, heading for the road to Romping-in-the-Heye and the Woodberry Dance Studio.
Amanda’s heart beat fast as she rang the bell. The door opened. Vic came out, looking surprisingly well.
‘Hello, Amanda, isn’t it?’
‘Hello, Mr Woodberry,’ she said a trifle tentatively.
‘Vic. Come in. How nice of you to call on an old man.’
‘I wanted to see how you’ve been these past weeks.’
‘Oh, I’m fine.’ He was smartly dressed in crisp pale blue shirt and light khaki trousers, shaved and fragrant.
‘You’re walking better,’ Amanda noticed.
‘Yes, I’m getting physio for my leg. I don’t think my dancing days are over after all. Got to keep up the studio. Hiring Vanessa to help me out.’ He led the way to the conservatory at the back of the house.
‘That’s wonderful news.’ Vic seemed to have got a new lease of life.
‘Yes, well, it was all a shock but …. life goes on,’ he said philosophically, gesturing to Amanda to sit down on one of the rattan chairs.
‘I heard that you weren’t well at the feast,’ commented Amanda, to open the subject.
‘Oh, that’s right. Something I ate.’
‘Do you remember what it was?’ she asked. ‘So you know to avoid it in future.’
‘Do I! Those apple dumplings. Oh, my favourite, haven’t seen them in years, and there were so many, and no one else seemed to want them, and Mr Seedwell said, ‘Oh, dig in!’ So I did. And the next thing, oh, my stomach! I just had to come home for a bit, you know, and then the next thing was I got a call … ah well. It’s done. And however it happened, she’s gone.’
‘The police are still working on it,’ said Amanda.
‘But life doesn’t stand still, does it? Anyway, sooner or later, they’ll catch up with those rogues,’ Vic stated with conviction.
‘Those rogues?’
‘Recket and Bogia. Oh yes. Sometime they’ll have to come out of their hole in the wall.’
‘You’re sure it was them?’ Amanda asked.
‘Course,’ stated Vic. ‘I knew them back in the bad old days when I were a rascal. Long behind me now. Majolica helped me a lot, you know. Made a new man of me in a lotta ways. Bit dominating and she liked the lolly, if you know what I mean. I’m grateful, but not sorry to have my freedom. I can say that to you, can't I?’ he added confidingly.
‘Of course,’ Amanda reassured him kindly.
‘Come and have a cuppa, and let me show you round my little kingdom.’
***
Amanda mused on the drive home. The memory of that strangely blurred fall replayed in her mind. The soldier and the woman. The woman had to have been Majolica, and, if so, had Amanda been seeing the future?
‘Aunt Amelia,’ she said into the phone, ‘can I drop in?’
‘So,’ asked Amanda, seated in Amelia’s kitchen while her aunt made tea. ‘Was I seeing the future when I saw Majolica fall before it actually happened?’
‘No sweetie,’ Amelia answered her calmly, ‘no one can see the future.’
‘What was I seeing then?’
‘You were seeing a possi
bility … even a probability.’
‘How come?’ Amanda was a little at sea.
‘Trace the train of events,’ Amelia encouraged her. ‘Think about traps. The very first traps were animal traps. Go from there.’
‘Well, let’s see,’ said Amanda thoughtfully. ‘For a trap to work, the hunter would have to be able to predict where the animal would come. By laying bait. Or by observing its movement or its runs.’
‘Next step?’ said Amelia.
‘So for a trap to work on a human, the assassin would have to learn that person’s routine. So … the murderer knows there’s a dance class every Saturday. He knows the teachers come to prepare … wait! Vic always preps, but that night, Vic ate the dumplings, got sick and didn’t turn up! If the murderer knew Vic well enough to know his food tastes, then it would have to be a villager, because who else would know the dumplings were certain to upset the strongest stomach?’
Amelia nodded.
‘Makes sense.’
‘But,’ continued Amanda, gathering impetus, ‘what if they weren’t from the village? Then they wouldn’t have known about the dumplings, or they didn’t know Vic that well to know he wouldn’t be able to resist them and then they would have been expecting Vic to be at the hall. But Vic goes home, and Majolica comes instead! What if we’ve been looking at the wrong person all this time?’
‘That is all together a possibility,’ agreed Amelia.
‘Excuse me while I make a call?’ asked Amanda.
‘Go ahead. I’ll get the gingernuts out.’
Chapter 45
Tempest Goes Forth
Amanda dialled.
‘Gwendolen? What if Vic was the intended victim and not Majolica?’
‘Yes, we’re on the case, my dear. We should have some information for you by the morning.’
‘If I’m right, it wasn’t anyone who is what Mr French calls “Village” and it wasn’t someone who knew Vic intimately.’
