by Silver Nord
The Ghoul sisters exchanged a look.
“Just remember, Erebus can sniff out lies,” I added, completely fictionally.
The Ghoul sisters looked crestfallen.
7
Propaganda and Pear-Drop Tea
I was still attempting to buff out bullet holes the next morning when the shop door swung open.
“What on earth happened in here?” a familiar voice said.
I looked up and discovered Aunt Minerva standing in the doorway, inspecting the broken glass and general disarray.
“The police let you go!” I said, giving up the ‘buffing’ as an impossible job and standing up to give her a welcome-back hug. “Sorry about the mess. We were attacked by armed robbers.”
“It was only standard protocol to bring her in for questioning in the first place,” Sean said, stepping into the shop after my aunt and looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. “Also, uh… we might have found some new evidence that suggests Jon Leroux might have been part of a gang.”
“You don’t say?” I said, unimpressed by this spectacular deduction. I’d already told him my suspicions about the tattoos linking the dead man to the armed robbers.
“Tattoos aren’t reliable evidence of gang affiliation! Otherwise, we’d have everyone with a butterfly on their backside behind bars,” he protested.
I looked thoughtful, which earned me a dark look.
“Are you going to tell me what you know so far?” I asked, folding my arms. I still hadn’t forgiven the DCI for marching Aunt Minerva to the police station, over what was clearly someone’s attempt to set her up for a crime she hadn’t committed.
Sean glanced pointedly at Minerva.
“I’ll go make some tea,” she said, reading between the lines. Clearly this new evidence - whatever it was - didn’t completely absolve her.
“We found his keys further down river. He had a key fob for a gym in Witchwood that has a reputation for being a front for gangsters,” Sean explained when Minerva was out of earshot.
“Oh, so key-rings are evidence, but tattoos are nonsense,” I complained. “If you know all this, why haven’t you stopped them before now?”
Sean looked uncomfortable again. “It’s widely viewed that they’re more trouble than they’re worth. They’ve never really been a problem up until now.”
“With one of them dead in the river and the rest running around town terrifying the locals and vandalising property, I’d say they’re a problem worth bothering with.”
“Running around town?”
I gave him a stern look. “I was just the start of their spree. Who knows where it will end? In a lawless town anything could happen.”
“Hazel, you know the situation we’re in. At least I haven’t forgotten about Wormwood like the rest of the force. It’s a nightmare keeping them on task at the moment.”
I sighed. I was taking out my own frustrations over my lack of progress on Sean. Nothing seemed to be going my way. “Have you brought this ‘gym’ in for questioning?”
He half-nodded. “Most of them weren’t available.”
“Because they’re all here,” I muttered. I raised my gaze to meet his grey eyes. “They wore balaclavas when they made trouble around town, but I bet multiple witnesses would be able to identify them by their tattoos. They didn’t really try to cover them up. Surely it’s enough to get them locked up? Or at least booted out of Wormwood?”
“Ah, well… it’s a rather delicate situation. Normally, it might do something,” he agreed, before looking pained. “They didn’t hurt you, did they? or anyone else?” he added, somewhat lessening the effect of his sentiment.
“No, but they could have done! A lot of property was damaged.”
“It might be better to focus on the bigger picture… like the murder itself.”
I bit my lip. It irked me in the extreme that actual criminals were getting away with criminal activity, but it could be that the detective was right in this instance. I was letting my personal feelings get in the way. After all - if we were being truly honest - even the murder was overshadowed by the mayor’s evil plan. And yet, no one was rushing to arrest him. Mostly because the end result would be getting turned into a small pile of charcoal on the floor if he really did have the power I suspected he did.
Still… if the police were no longer able to intervene in Wormwood, perhaps it was time for a little local justice.
“I, uh… I’ve been trying to contact the deceased’s wife, but I’m not sure where she is,” Sean said in a lower voice.
There was a sudden wail of anguish from the kitchen.
Sean rubbed his forehead with his palm. So much for Minerva being out of earshot.
“He was married?! To someone who wasn’t my aunt?” I sought to clarify, but the memory of the wedding ring that had been on his ring finger resurfaced again. I had wondered…
“Yes. Her name is Amber Leroux. Have you seen her around? I think she might be in town.”
I considered the female voice of the leader of the robbers. “I’d say it’s quite likely,” I said dryly. “Let me know when you find her. I think I’d like to do some questioning of my own.”
Sean rubbed his short hair. “I am hopeful she will prove useful in the investigation. It could be that she found out her husband, Jon, was having an affair with another woman. If she really is high up in the ranks of this supposed gang, then it’s not a stretch of the imagination to think she might have had something to do with his demise.”
“And tried to frame Aunt Minerva for her crime,” I finished. It seemed like the most logical conclusion. “Mystery solved. He stabbed her in the back and she returned the favour in the most literal sense.”
Sean’s mouth twisted to the side in dissatisfaction. “Well, we’ll see. It might be more complicated than that. This is a situation that needs to be handled with the utmost care, due to the fragile situation in this town at the moment.”
He meant he was grossly outnumbered and outgunned by a violent gang of criminals. I wasn’t even sure how they’d managed to get so many guns. They were usually fairly tough to get hold of in the UK, unless you did it by illegal means.
I probably had my answer.
“Let me know if you need a lynch mob. I know exactly where to rustle one up,” I told him. I sincerely hoped he found this Amber woman before I did. Otherwise I might be tempted to start the interrogation myself.
“Hazel…”
I focused on Sean again and discovered he was looking at me with unfathomable thoughts floating in the depths of his grey eyes. “Don’t do anything crazy,” he settled on saying.
I tried to nod in a convincing manner, but there was no way I was giving him verbal confirmation. We both knew that Sean was toeing a difficult line between the law of the land and his own precarious position as a lone police officer dealing with an entire gang. Wormwood was not the town it used to be.
It might be time for a new set of rules.
“I just can’t believe I was so stupid,” Minerva said, moping into her pear-drop flavour tea.
I patted her consolingly on the shoulder. “I’m sure you couldn’t have known he was…”
I hesitated, trying to work out how to finish that sentence. Already married? Probably trying to scam you?
“Linda’s right. I’m terrible at being in love. I just… love a bad boy. No matter what Linda might claim!” she confessed, making me want to curl up and run away with embarrassment. Those were not words you wanted to hear from your one-hundred-and-ten-year-old aunt - even if she was very well preserved.
“There, there,” I said, for want of something better to say. What else could I say? ‘At least he’s dead now and you weren’t the one responsible’ didn’t seem appropriate.
“Where did you and Jon meet?” I asked, hoping that by filling in the background I might be able to put more of the pieces together and work out how it all led to his body winding up in Wormwood River.
“It was in a library. When Li
nda and I were on the run, libraries were like sanctuaries. No matter which town we ran to, there was always a library ready to welcome me.” She sighed happily. “It was in a tiny town, whose name I can’t even remember, when I met Jon. I was reading The Name of the Wind for the tenth time when he walked over and asked me what I thought of Patrick Rothfuss. It was the most romantic thing I’d heard from a man in years. Perhaps ever,” she concluded thoughtfully.
“Sounds about right,” I muttered, sharing a similar opinion of mens’ idea of romance. A genuinely romantic man, who also wasn’t a complete sleaze, was rarer than hens’ teeth.
“With hindsight, I should have smelled a rat immediately. He was just too good to be true. I’ve already told you our romance was a whirlwind. He popped the question the third time we met. It was tough sneaking out without Linda sticking her big nose in.” She smiled wistfully. “Even with my advanced years, I don’t seem to be making better decisions than the ones I made as a teenager. Now look what’s happened… Jon’s dead, and his wife might be coming for me next.”
I frowned, still wondering if this all somehow tied in together. “Aunt Minerva, please don’t take this the wrong way… but did he ever ask you about any kind of safe? Or a place where you might hide something valuable?”
“Well, we spoke about lots of things. Both of us had our fair share of colourful family histories. We enjoyed chatting about that. I suppose family heirlooms and secrets may have come up.” She looked sheepish.
“I see,” I said, having a feeling where this was going. “Was there anything specific that you can remember? Perhaps something kept in a safe in this house or shop?” I watched as my aunt did some wriggling. “The truth, please.”
The shop door swung open and Linda entered. She ran over to Minerva and flung her arms around her sister’s neck. “Oh, Minerva, I’m so pleased! You do have a love life after all!” She pulled away and brushed her teased blonde curls back from her face. “Sorry he died. Plenty more magicians in the sea! Having said that, probably not if we stick around here for much longer… but I’d give a nice handsome monster a chance.” She stopped talking and looked back and forth between her sister and me. “So… what are we talking about?”
“Aunt Minerva was about to tell me everything she knew about the mysterious safe those vandalising robbers were looking for,” I said, crossing my arms and waiting for an answer.
“I didn’t know what she was talking about,” Linda announced cheerfully. “We don’t have any secrets or valuables locked in safes, do we?”
“No, we don’t,” Aunt Minerva said, but I noticed she was only answering Linda’s safe-specific question.
“If it’s not in a safe where is it? And more importantly, what is it?” I wasn’t going to be diverted that easily.
“Do you know what she’s talking about?” Linda asked her sister, starting to look suspicious herself.
“I…” Minerva started to say, before her expression crumpled and she seemed to slump several inches lower in a very un-Minerva-like fashion. “I might have been entrusted with something. It’s been in my possession for many, many years, though!” She glanced at me when she said it. “I can’t imagine why anyone would suddenly be looking for it now. It must be a coincidence. These robbers didn’t say what they were actually looking for, did they?”
“No. They just mentioned a safe.”
Minerva nervously patted her hair. “Oh dear, I may have alluded to keeping family skeletons and such like locked up in a safe on one of my dates with Jon. Someone must have overheard and took me seriously.”
“Or, he betrayed you,” Linda helpfully contributed.
“It doesn’t make sense. How could someone targeting our family find us when the Witch Council couldn’t?” Minerva said, scratching her head. “I still don’t think this theory is very plausible. It’s far more likely that these robbers were opportunists who just guessed that we hide our valuables in a safe. A lot of people do have safes.”
I spread my hands out on the shop counter. “Let’s say hypothetically that there might be something you’re keeping from us that someone else might be looking for. What might that something be?”
“Is there some big secret you haven’t told me?” Aunt Linda cut in, looking shocked.
“Linda, it’s entirely logical that you wouldn’t have been told, if there was a secret to tell. You’re not known for your discretion.”
“Neither will you be when news of your affair with a married man gets out!” her sister snapped back.
I raised my eyebrows at the exceedingly low blow. I clearly wasn’t the only one feeling the rising tensions in Wormwood.
“How dare you!” Minerva bit back before sending a blast of deep blue magic at her sister. Linda ducked and retaliated with a shot of magenta.
“Ha! If you think you’re going to catch me out with your boils-in-unmentionable-places hex you need to think again. You’ve been trying that for half a century!” Linda sneered, crouching down behind a neatly stacked pile of the tea special for the month.
They exploded when the next hex shot through them, knocking Aunt Linda off her feet.
“Ack!” she said as she sprouted an impressive, blonde beard.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the classics,” Minerva retorted.
I sighed loudly enough that they both turned to stare at me, before looking guiltily at one another.
“Hazel, we’re sorry,” Aunt Minerva said, looking like she meant it. “We’ve been acting like children.” She wrung her hands for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. “You’re right. Even though I was asked personally to bear this burden and keep the secret, you deserve to know the truth.”
“Well hip-hip-hooray! Spill the beans,” Linda said, folding her arms and accidentally catching her luxuriant beard.
“If I hear one word of this beyond these shop walls…” her sister warned, whilst Linda hastily crossed her heart and made solemn oaths of silence.
Minerva turned back to me with sorrow in her eyes. “The family secret I’ve been hiding for all these years was something that your father entrusted me with. He wasn’t just a normal non-magical person.”
My eyes lit up. “He had magic? I didn’t see any sign of it at his house.”
“No, he never had any personal ability,” Minerva quickly cut in. “However, he did have a talent that I’ve never seen in another non-magical human. He could use our magic and put it to work in ways I find hard to understand even now. He had a gift for technology… magical technology.”
I frowned. I’d read about his surveillance company from the files he’d kept in the cabinet within the nearly-derelict house I’d inherited but there hadn’t seemed anything magical about them. “I didn’t see…”
“He’ll have used something to wipe all traces of magic, ironically using magic technology to do it,” Minerva told me, knowing what I was getting at. “Everything he was doing was shrouded in rumour. I’m sure he’ll have wanted to keep it that way - with no one knowing for sure.”
“I still don’t understand. Do you know why he disappeared?” I looked seriously at my aunt, wondering how she could have concealed all of this from me for so long.
She looked grave. “One day, your father took his talent too far. He blended magic and technology together and invented something terrible. He hoped the truth would never get out, but he was betrayed by someone he thought was a friend.” Minerva bit her tongue for a moment as emotion crept up on her, before she gathered her thoughts again. “They thought this invention should be used and believed that they were the one who could use it justly to make the world a better place.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” I muttered, thinking dark thoughts about people with delusions of grandeur.
“The rest is complicated.” Minerva’s eyes darted towards the broken shop door and the currently-empty street beyond it.
“You can’t skimp on the details now!” Linda protested, making her beard bristle.
“You should be able to piece the truth together yourself, Linda. It’s lucky you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed. Otherwise, I might have had a hard time hiding this from you.”
“How dare you!” my other aunt said, gathering her magic up again.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” I heard Hemlock shout from somewhere up on top of a cabinet. “What do you think, Artemis? Are you sure you want to bet your dinner on Minerva again? I know she won the last round, but Linda is pretty angry, and she’s got a beard - which is a known advantage in battle.”
I glared up in the direction of the voice. I would be having words with Hemlock about the definition of the word ‘responsibility’ later.
Right after I’d dealt with two aunts who should have told me more of the truth a long time ago.
“Is someone after this terrible thing my father invented?” I cut in, wanting to get this runaway train back on the tracks.
“I believe that might be the case. There have always been fringe groups of extremists who dredge up hints from the past and come looking. However, nothing like that has happened for years,” Minerva explained.
“It’s because you opened your mouth and told a stranger too much. Who’s the blunt garden tool now?” Linda smugly told her sister.
“I may have made a mistake, but I still don’t know how this gang of robbers seem to know so much. I did mention the safe in passing, but I used it as a figure of speech. We shouldn’t assume that your father’s invention is what they’re after.” She shook her head. “He knew it would corrupt anyone who used it. That’s why he decided it was better to conceal his work and run away, so that he could never be forced to recreate what he’d done.”
“Why didn’t he just destroy this thing?” I asked, somehow knowing I wasn’t going to like the answer.
Minerva looked pained. “Pride, I suppose. When he came to me, he claimed that one day it might have a use for good - perhaps in the future when we were living in a more stable and developed magical society. It was a pipe dream, and I think he knew it. He just couldn’t bear to have his great work destroyed… and to be honest… I think he was also scared about what might happen if it was destroyed.”
