The Witch Who Mysteries Box Set

by Katie Penryn

  “Mpenzi Munro, you are not authorized to use a more powerful spell yet. You have to earn the right. Something from Level Three or Four would answer?” she asked turning to the secretary.

  The secretary bobbed her head glad to show she knew

  “I shall have to confer with my colleagues.”

  The seven witches leaned in towards each other and muttered and whispered amongst themselves while Felix, Zag and I stood waiting for their decision, our stances suitably humble.

  Their conference over the witches leaned back and waited for their leader to announce their decision.

  “Mpenzi Munro, having taken into consideration the circumstances in which you find yourself and not wanting to lose someone who shows promise in our eternal fight against the evil in both the natural world and our world of magic, we hereby grant you a dispensation to skip through the levels of the semper tuens spell up to Level Four. This will give you ten feet of protection from all attempts to harm you.”

  “Thank you, your Ladyship,” I said dipping in my second curtsey of the night.

  Felix bowed. “I thank you for accepting that there are limits to my capabilities as a bodyguard, especially when it comes to threats from those who practice the black magic of my homeland.”

  “Your Ladyship, how will I learn the spell if it isn’t in my book?” I asked.

  “Good question. When you return to your home, you will find the spell on the last page of your Book of Spells. Now, please child, endeavor to continue with your studies as and when your fight against evil permits.”

  The seven witches shimmered and faded away leaving Felix, Zag and me in the dark again.

  “Powerful ladies,” said Zag picking up his lead in his mouth and handing it to me. “I wouldn’t like to get on their wrong side.”

  Felix put the silver goblet back in his bag. “We didn’t ask them how to strengthen the protection on the mirror the witchdoctor is using as a portal. That means you may still find him staring at you from the foot of your bed, Penzi.”

  “But he won’t be able to reach me. Furthermore, the spell will protect me from the murderer. We can forget about the threat of the eye and the darning needles.”

  Chapter 28

  Felix slept on my bed again that night. In leopard mode, I might add. Purely to guard me against the Wazini witchdoctor. We didn’t arrive home after meeting the High Council of the Guild of White Witches until after one. It would have taken at least two hours for us to suss out what we had to do for the new Level Four semper tuens spell and then I would have had to learn it. So, we put it off until the following evening.

  We had decided before we went to bed that we would visit Tidot’s brother, Laurent, to find out why the baker had been paying him such large amounts of money on a regular basis and why the payments had stopped a month before Tidot’s murder. We guessed Tidot had been supporting his brother in some way, but whether this had any bearing on his murder or not we didn’t know. Blackmail was a possibility.

  I looked the brother up in the phone directory but he had moved.

  “Check with Monsieur Bonhomie or Brioche,” suggested Felix.

  The mayor’s first question when I rang him was did we have any news? I had to tell him nothing definite but we were getting close. I hoped that was true.

  He said of course he’d find out. “I’ll look up his Livret de Famille and let you know.”

  Ten minutes later he rang to say Laurent Tidot had moved to Angoulême. “Apparently, he moves around a lot. I don’t know whether it’s for his job or something else. It might be worth investigating.”

  He gave me the address, and I called it out to Felix to note down as he would be navigating.

  Felix pulled up the route from Beaucoup-sur-mer to Angoulême.

  “It’s just over seventy miles but it’s a twisty road, say an hour and a half. But the good news is we have to drive through Cognac, so we could stop at one of the distilleries on the way back and stock up.”

  “You would think of that.”

  “We used up half a bottle last night, Penzi. And I don’t drink cognac unless I’ve run out of Laphroaig. You know I prefer the grain to the grape.”

  “So is your trusty flask full?”

  Felix slapped his pocket. “Of course. Never know when I might need it in an emergency.”

  Sighing, I picked up my bag and the car keys. Felix often had an emergency as far as I could see.

  *

  We arrived at the address given us at about eleven after climbing up to the center of the city which is set on a hill above the River Charente and is surrounded by medieval stone walls. The immediate area boasted old houses turned into flats as evidenced by the number of nameplates outside each building. The area had seen better times, descending the ladder of desirability until houses became cheap enough for gentrification.

  Felix rang the bell for Laurent Tidot’s flat and he buzzed us in. For a passing moment I thought it strange he wasn’t at work then I remember his brother’s payments to him. Perhaps they had been to support his brother after all.

  My stomach did a flip when a younger version of our baker opened the door and I stepped back in shock. They could have been twins, but the similarity ended with their looks. Where our Tidot was shaven and well dressed, this one was a down and out. With scruffy, greasy hair, stained T-shirt and dirty bare feet he didn’t look as if he had the energy to plot and carry out a clever murder and leave no trace, but we had to interview him all the same. First impressions could be so misleading.

  “Yeah?” he said hanging onto the door as if he hadn’t the spine to stand up straight.

  “We’d like to ask you some questions about your brother’s death.”

  “I wondered how long it would be before you chased me down,” he said. “You’d better come in.”

  We followed him into a squalid living room full of empty beer cans and takeaway boxes.

  “Sit, please,” he said vaguely gesturing towards the unappealing seating.

  “It’s all right, I’ll stand,” I said.

  Felix followed suit and propped himself against a low cabinet. I hoped he wouldn’t regret his move when we left. It didn’t look clean to me.

  “So, what do you want to know?” Laurent Tidot asked me.

  “I’d better explain that I’m here at the mayor’s behest,” I began.

  “Yeah, yeah. He rang me.”

  “We’ve made an examination of your brother’s bank statements and note that he has been paying you large sums every month. Not always the same amount but always significant. Can you tell us why?”

  “It’s not as if it’s any of your business, but I’ll tell you anyway to get rid of you. He’s been paying off my gambling debts. I can’t stop. I’m an addict. When I told my brother there was a gang of vicious thugs after me threatening to break my legs, my brother coughed up until the debt was cleared.”

  I glanced at Felix. We hadn’t guessed that.

  Tidot went on. “But by the time that debt was paid off I had run up another one. Jerome wouldn’t come through for me this time. Didn’t pay me a cent this month. Miserable bit of work. And now he’s dead. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Can you account for your whereabouts on Saturday night?”

  “No, I can’t. I was probably drunk but I can’t prove it. Anyway, I’m not mentioned in his will. Why would I want to kill him?”

  I shifted from one foot to the other and looked at Felix again. He nodded. Time to go.

  We thanked Laurent Tidot and left.

  As we walked down the smelly stairs and out of the building, Felix said, “Doesn’t mean he didn’t kill his brother in anger or revenge.”

  “No,” I agreed. “But setting up a gas explosion is too planned. I would expect a knife or even a gun.”

  “We’re no further forward then. Every time we come up with a suspect the trail leads nowhere.”

  “Come on, Felix, cheer up. Cognac on the way home, remember. You’r
e not driving so you can taste the samples they offer. And I can feel we’re getting close. I can almost see the murderer. The mist cloaking him is thinning.”

  *

  We stopped at three distilleries on the way home, and Felix partook of their generous free tastings. We bought two bottles from each firm so that Gwinny and Audrey could give their verdict on the different brands.

  “You know, Penzi,” Felix said as we left the city of Cognac behind us and started on the home stretch, “I’ve been thinking about the carpenter. I agree with you that there is something odd about the whole Madame Tidot senior scenario. We should interview him again.”

  “His flat is on our way home. Shall we stop now?”

  Felix chuckled. “After lunch would be better. I think I need some strong coffee before conducting the interview of a possible murderer.”

  “You really think it could be him?”

  “He’s already been proven to be a fishy character.”

  “Stealing a silver cup at the age of fifteen is a long way from killing someone.”

  “What about your intuitive suspicion of Madame Tidot senior?”

  “I’ll grant you that, but I still can’t see the connection to the murder. But, you’re right. We’ll interview him after lunch. At least then we can strike them both off the list of suspects.”

  “We can’t see the situation clearly because it’s difficult to believe a mother would seek the death of her child. That’s the rub.”

  *

  Sean Morrison opened his door to us that afternoon. We caught him on his way out after his lunch break.

  He scowled at us and tried to push past and continue on his way. “What do you want now? I answered all your questions last time. I have to get back to work.”

  “It won’t take long,” Felix said refusing to get out of the way.

  “Very well then, but make it quick,” Morrison replied with bad grace as he turned back into his flat leaving the door open for us.

  Felix closed the door and took up position against it to make it impossible for Morrison to leave the room until we had finished with our questions.

  Morrison sat down quickly. “Go on then, Get on with it.”

  I took a deep breath to calm the antagonism his attitude provoked in me. “Mr Morrison, we know all about your schoolboy escapade.”

  He jerked his head up in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that.

  I continued. “We know you stole the silver tennis cup—”

  He got to his feet and started towards me but Felix intervened pushing him back down into his seat again.

  Morrison blustered at me. “Who says? It’s a lie. It was never proved. The culprit was never found.”

  “So what’s this then,” I said holding out the photo of him with the cup.

  “That’s just me holding the cup. I was the captain of the school team.”

  “And this?” I asked showing him his signed confession.

  All the color left his face, and it took him a moment or two to say anything. “Where did you get that?”

  He looked from Felix to me and back again. He put two and two together, incorrectly. “The bitch! She told you. Why? To save her own skin, I bet.”

  Neither of us answered. We waited to see how much more he would give away. Our silence made him think we knew more than we did.

  He put his head in his hands and moaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have done it. But she made me. She said she would rake up the past history of the silver cup if I didn’t do what she wanted.”

  “She being Madame Tidot senior?” I asked.

  He nodded and dropped his hands from his face. “But she didn’t mean to kill him. She loved Jerome. And I liked him. We didn’t intend to kill him. His mother said he would be at a conference in Bordeaux.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I drilled a hole in the gas supply pipe to the bread oven.” He burst into tears. “We truly didn’t want to kill Tidot. His mother wanted to blow up the bakery to teach him a lesson.”

  “Strange kind of lesson,” I said. “What for?”

  “To pay him back for dumping her in an old age home. That was her word – dumped. She didn’t want to go. She thought he and his wife should look after her in their home but his wife wouldn’t agree.”

  “So you’re telling me the old lady blackmailed you into sabotaging the bakery so she could get back at her son for placing her in a retirement home — one of the best I’ve ever visited, by the way?”

  Morrison nodded.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked. “You’ll have to tell the police, won’t you?”

  Felix and I exchanged glances and Felix gave me the barest of nods. He was leaving it to me.

  “Morrison, can I have your word that you won’t attempt to run away?”

  He sighed. “Where could I run to? I wouldn’t get far. The French police are amongst the best in the world. So, yes, I give you my promise. But please go easy on the old lady. It’s killing her that she caused the death of her favorite son. The other one is a no-good.”

  “In that case, my colleague and I will think about this overnight. We have to visit Madame Tidot senior immediately and see if she confirms your story. Without her confirmation, you are on your own in this, and you have just confessed to us that you sabotaged the bakery.”

  We left Morrison sobbing. He was going to be late for work after all.

  Chapter 29

  The residents of the retirement home were all at tea when we arrived but Madame Tidot was not among them.

  “She’s gone back into her shell,” the receptionist told us. “We managed to coax her out of her room for a couple of days but the grief hit her again and now she won’t leave her haven.”

  “Would you find out if she’ll see us?”

  “I’ll ask but I don’t hold out much hope,” she said.

  “Please tell her it’s either us or the police, her choice,” I said firmly.

  The sooner we got to the bottom of this unexpected turn of events the better. If she was innocent, we could stop pursuing her.

  While we waited Felix and I walked down into the gardens and had another look around. To me the home seemed wonderful, far better than many I had come across in my legal career. However, Madame Tidot had been used to being independent. She had to be a tough woman to have been principal of large lycée.

  “She’ll see you, but please treat her gently. She hasn’t stopped crying all day.”

  We waved away the receptionist’s offer to accompany us. We knew where to find Madame Tidot’s room.

  Her appearance was a shock even though I had been expecting her to be distraught. She had shrunk into a little old lady. Her clothes hung on her as if she had been dieting and lost too much weight too quickly. She had slotted the buttons on her cardigan into the wrong holes making it gape in places. If I had to choose one word to describe her it would have been wan.

  She saw me looking at the dead flowers in the vase on the windowsill and burst into tears.

  I waited until her sobs subsided and asked her if she would like me to throw them in the bin for her.

  “No,” she cried out her voice shrill with anguish. “My son gave them to me on his last visit. And there will never be any more.”

  “I can’t imagine how painful it must be to lose a child. To know the child you carried for nine months has gone before you into the unknown. Or perhaps you believe in God and in heaven, Madame Tidot?” I said.

  She nodded.

  “That must be a comfort, madame.”

  She shook her head and began to sob again.

  I crossed the room and knelt down beside her. Her grief was so tangible I was finding it hard not to cry with her. However, if I had cried, they would have been tears of sympathy, not empathy. I was sorry for her loss and if, as we suspected, she had been involved in her son’s death, I sympathized with her for the guilt she must be feeling, but I couldn’t forgive her spite.

  “The murderer is
answerable to God, madame,” I said.

  She clutched my hands as she gave up the pretence. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know Jerome would be there. How could I have known? He and his wife moved into a house a while ago.”

  I stood up and backed away. “Are you telling me that you asked Sean Morrison to sabotage your son’s bakery, madame?”

  She nodded.

  “Please answer my question verbally, madame.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “God help me.”

  There was nothing more for us to do there. The poor woman had to live with what she had done.

  On our way out of the home I asked to see the manager. I told her that Madame Tidot should be put on suicide watch and should not be allowed to leave the home until further notice.

  *

  Felix and I didn’t say a word until we reached home and were in the privacy of the study.

  Felix offered me a sip of scotch from his hip flask. I took it gratefully.

  “That was a distressing scene,” he said tipping the flask up so I had to take a second sip.

  I swallowed and pushed the flask away. “I’ll never forget having to make an old lady confess to causing the death of her son.”

  “I halfway understand how she could have been brought to that point.”

  “Yes. Growing old and feeling discarded must have been difficult for a woman like that. Someone who had been as important as she was in the social fabric of the society she served. If only she had tried to talk to her son to explain how marginalized she felt.”

  “Maybe he wouldn’t, or couldn’t listen. Maybe he had to choose between his wife and his mother.”

  “Even so, her depths of her spite shook me, Felix. How could she even consider sabotaging her son’s business?” I started to shake as the full import of what we had discovered hit me.

  Felix put his arms around me and eased me down into a chair. “Breathe deeply, Penzi, and then we’ll discuss what to do. I’m going to fetch you a cup of tea.”

  I clasped my hands to my arms. I bent forward hugging myself, rocking backwards and forwards. My stomach churned and my head buzzed. Even through the emotional turmoil I knew what was wrong with me. Dissonance. I was experiencing dissonance. My mind couldn’t reconcile the conflicting ideas.