by Morgana Best
“It is now,” I said. “Max, why don’t you go back inside and put the curry plates in the oven to keep them warm and help Oleander inside when she gets back because she’ll probably be exhausted. Athanasius and I will go fetch Caesar, um, I mean George.”
Max looked doubtful.
“And please keep an eye on Persnickle. He’s asleep now, but he might get up to mischief when he wakes up.”
“Sure.” Max went back inside. I ran back into the house, snatched up my keys, and grabbed Athanasius by the arm. The two of us ran to my car. “He’s heading to town!” I said. “What are we going to do?”
“Goldie, you just need to calm down. Calm down and focus on sending him back.”
“We have to return the horse to his rightful owner too,” I said in horror.
“One thing at a time. Goldie. First of all, we have to find Caesar.”
We were on the outskirts of town when I saw the horse trotting down the road. The horse dropped his head and grazed. “There’s the horse! What will we do with him?”
“Look, there’s a paddock there and a gate,” Athanasius said. “I know the owner of that paddock and he just keeps a few sheep in there. Put the horse in there and then later I’ll call the owner of the paddock and tell him the horse has turned up. It’s such a small town that the horse’s owner will be found in no time.”
I approached the horse, which seemed more interested in eating grass after his escapade with Julius Caesar. The horse followed me happily enough into the paddock. I shut the gate firmly and latched it. The horse put up his tail and galloped off happily into the distance, scattering the sheep.
Athanasius waved to the horse. I have no idea why. “At least the horse is happy.”
“That makes one of us,” I said.
When we reached town, we saw Julius Caesar walking down the main street. No one was looking at him. It was the Gold Coast, after all. He was talking to a woman with black hair. “Athanasius, go up and ask him what he’s doing,” I said. “And bring him back here.”
Athanasius spoke to Julius Caesar for a while and then brought him back to me. “He’s wondering if Cleopatra has come through into the future too but with a different appearance, so he’s been questioning women with black hair asking them if they’re Cleopatra.”
I rolled my eyes. “Great! At least he doesn’t appear frightened by cars.”
“No, he thinks they were built by Carthaginians.” Athanasius’s tone suggested I should find that a reasonable statement.
“Well, it’s all a complete and utter nightmare!” I said. “We have to get Caesar home, only Max is at home and how do I explain Caesar disappearing in a puff of smoke?”
“There was smoke?” Athanasius said.
I shook my head. My day was going downhill fast. “Just a figure of speech,” I said wearily. “We have to take Caesar somewhere so I can make him vanish. Where can we take him?”
“He said he was hungry,” Athanasius said. “Why don’t you go and buy him something to eat and I’ll do my best to explain we’re going for a ride in the car.”
“Good luck with that,” I said over my shoulder as I headed into East Bucklebury’s only grocery store.
I soon returned with a can of Coke, a large bag of salt and vinegar chips, and an ice cream. Athanasius looked at the food and said, “Really?”
“Well, I’m afraid they didn’t have any typical ancient Roman fare of crumbed grasshoppers or wheat pancakes with dates and honey,” I said. “Did you explain the car?”
“I did my best,” Athanasius said. “I figured we should take him to a quiet beach and you can make him vanish there.”
“Sure, great idea.”
Athanasius handed Julius Caesar the ice cream. He pointed to his mouth and indicated he should eat it. Julius pulled a face. He tried a little, and his face lit up. He devoured it all rapidly.
Athanasius opened the bag of chips and held it out to Julius. He looked in it and then shot Athanasius an inquiring look. Athanasius picked one out and ate it. Julius did the same thing. He then stuffed several in his mouth. I figured time travel must increase one’s appetite.
Athanasius showed Julius how to get in the car. “I’ll get in the back seat with him just in case,” Athanasius said, “and Goldie, press that button to lock all the doors, will you? We don’t want him jumping out at speed.”
“Oh, gosh, could you imagine history changing?” I would have to be careful.
Caesar did not seem to mind being driven in the car. He kept saying Latin words and looking out the window while noisily slurping Coke and eating salt and vinegar chips.
“This place looks good,” Athanasius said. “Pull over here.”
We got out onto a tiny little beach. As East Bucklebury was on the broadwater, there was no surf and there was not even a nice, sandy beach like everywhere else on the east coast of Australia. This was just a tiny strip of sand and flat water. Still, it was as good a place as any to send Caesar back to 47 BC.
“Now focus, Goldie. What did you say or do to get Caesar here?”
“I wasn’t even focusing on him. I was focusing on the Caesar cocktails and I just told Caesar to manifest. Hmm, maybe it did cross my mind that the cocktails were named after Caesar. Anyway, I was about to say the word ‘cocktail’ when that investigator knocked on the door.”
Athanasius nodded slowly. “That’s good. Probably say something like, ‘Caesar, return!’ but you will have to focus on Caesar going back in time. So then, focus hard and release your focus, just as you say the words. Focus first and words second,” Athanasius clarified.
I chewed the end of one fingernail. “Okay,” I said. I focused on Caesar arriving in my kitchen. At first, I was struck by the uneasy thought that he might have to be sent back from the same location, but then I told myself I was a powerful sea witch and I didn’t have to follow those rules, even if they did exist.
I focused on Caesar travelling through time and arriving in my kitchen, and then I visualised pushing him back quickly. When I felt I had the vision strongly in my mind, I said firmly, “Caesar, return!”
I opened my eyes.
There, standing in front of me, was the internal affairs investigator. “Where did he go?” he screamed.
“Where did who go?” I asked him.
“A man in a toga.”
“I don’t see a man in a toga around here, do you Goldie?” Athanasius asked me.
I breathed a big sigh of relief. “No, I don’t.” To the investigator, I said, “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or maybe a Roman emperor.”
The man waved both arms in the air and then clutched his forehead. “I saw him with my own eyes!”
“Maybe you’ve spent too much time in a quiet seaside town,” I suggested. “Maybe it’s time for you to go back to the city. We won’t tell anyone you thought you saw a Roman emperor who vanished before your very eyes.”
“But I did see him,” he insisted. “And he did vanish.”
“I wouldn’t admit that if I were you,” Athanasius said. “I’m sure your superiors would take a dim view of you having hallucinations. Have you been on any medication lately? Or maybe changed your medication? Was it the stress of your job?”
“I know you’ve been imagining that Detective Max Grayson and I are having a relationship,” I said. “Maybe you imagined the Roman emperor too.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “I see. Blackmail, is it? You’re blackmailing me! If I file a report that you and Grayson are in a relationship, then you’ll tell my superiors I said I saw a vanishing man in a toga.”
“Max and I are actually not dating,” I told him, “but if you want Athanasius and I to tell your superiors that you insisted you saw a Roman emperor who vanished in front of your eyes, then we’re both quite happy to do so.”
He stood silent as his face turned an ugly shade of red. “You’ve got a deal,” he said.
“So you’ll be leaving town tomorrow?” Athanasius s
aid.
“I’m leaving town today. I think I am overworked.” With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off.
Chapter 12
“My bottle spell worked on the investigator, after all,” I said. “I just didn’t think it would work in such a way. I only hope it’s working as well on Detective Power.”
Athanasius laughed. “I never would have guessed it would work so well on the investigator. That’s the last you’ll ever see of him, Goldie.”
When I parked the car at the front of my house, Oleander was standing in the doorway, looking concerned.
“George has gone back home now,” I told her.
“Where exactly does he live?” Max asked. “I haven’t seen him around here before.”
“He lives a long way from here,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand.
“And we have some news about that internal affairs investigator who was following you around,” Athanasius said to Max.
Max’s brow furrowed. “Did you see him?”
“Yes, we did,” Athanasius said. “It was quite funny, really. After we returned the horse, we were taking George back to his car, but he wanted to see the beach first.”
“There is no beach in East Bucklebury,” Max said.
“That’s what I told him,” Athanasius said. “We showed him the little bit of sand not far from here which was near where he had parked his car. Anyway, we didn’t know the investigator had been following us. He got out of his car and thought George was actually a Roman emperor. He put his hands over his eyes—maybe it was the harsh sunlight—and when he took them off, he didn’t realise that George had walked to his car and left. He thought George had vanished into thin air.”
I felt bad for being party to such a terrible, and not to mention, preposterous, lie, but what could I do? I couldn’t really tell Max the truth, that I had conjured Julius Caesar to the present time.
“He didn’t really believe that, did he?” Max said with a frown.
“He did, didn’t he, Goldie?”
“He actually did,” I said. “He said he was overworked. He said he wouldn’t bother you any more if we agreed not to tell his superiors that he was having hallucinations of a Roman emperor.”
“You’re kidding!” Max exclaimed.
“Deadly serious,” Athanasius said. “You’ll never see him again. He’s leaving today.”
“I must say I’m completely dumbfounded.” Max did look shocked.
I decided to change the subject. “I’ll go fetch the Thai green curries.”
“What about the Caesar cocktails?” Oleander asked me.
“I don’t want to see a Caesar cocktail or a Caesar salad again for a while.” Ignoring Max’s curious glance, I marched to the kitchen.
Oleander followed me. I whispered to her what had happened. She seemed to find the whole thing remarkably funny. “I don’t like lying to Max,” I whispered.
“What’s the alternative?” she whispered back.
I rolled my eyes. “I know, I know.”
Soon the four of us were sitting around, eating Thai green curry and drinking Chardonnay. Persnickle was asleep on his wombat bed. I put a carrot in front of him for when he woke up, so he wouldn’t disturb us.
“I haven’t managed to turn up anything on Chris Coleman’s son yet,” Max said. “Athanasius and Oleander, I’m really concerned about Melissa Fowl being at the retirement home. Do your best to avoid her. I mean it.”
“We don’t need telling twice,” Oleander said. “I’m certainly not going to book her for a treatment.”
Max nodded. “That’s wise.”
“Do you have any updates about Power?” I asked Max.
He shook his head. “No, he’s been conspicuous by his absence. I thought he’d be calling me, telling me not to interfere.”
I exchanged glances with Oleander. Hopefully my vinegar bottle was working on Power as well.
When we finished, Max offered to help me clear the table. We walked into the kitchen. I had made some pecan pies and was fetching them out of the fridge, when Max said, “Goldie, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about…”
Before he could finish, a grunting Persnickle bounced into the room. He looked up at me, expecting a treat. “I put a carrot on your dog bed,” I told him.
He just looked at me, so I added, “Come with me.” I walked back out to his bed, but he didn’t follow me. Sighing, I picked up the carrot and walked back into the kitchen with it. Persnickle did a little jig of excitement, which for a wombat, meant he lifted one front leg a little and then the other. I held the carrot out to him and said, “Gentle.”
He took the carrot from me gently.
“You certainly have him well-trained,” Max said.
I was about to ask him what he was going to say to me when Athanasius came into the kitchen. “I’m just fetching another bottle of Chardonnay, Goldie.”
“Athanasius, get back out here,” Oleander called out.
“In a minute. I’m just fetching the wine,” he called.
“Athanasius!”
“I don’t know what her problem is,” Athanasius muttered with a shake of his head. He took the bottle of Chardonnay out.
Max and I followed him with the pecan pies. When Max was looking the other way, Oleander mouthed the word, “Sorry,” to me.
I simply shrugged.
Max finished swallowing his mouthful of pie and said, “Wow, you’re such a good cook, Goldie. This is superb!”
I realised I was blushing. “Thanks.”
“Goldie, your face is red. Are you too hot? We could open a window.”
“Oh, hush Athanasius,” Oleander said.
“You’re in a right mood tonight,” Athanasius countered.
“You know, it’s strange that Angus Burns was murdered now, after all these years,” I said to change the subject.
Max agreed. “But then again, the Great Bank Robbery was in 1955, and the gang members were imprisoned for a long time. Chris Coleman and Martin Deakin passed away some years ago, and Ben Parrish hid out here. East Bucklebury was a backwater back then and has only gone ahead in recent times.”
“And if that article in the paper hadn’t come out, then probably no one would have known he was there,” I offered.
“Yes, and Angus Burns would probably still be alive,” Max continued.
“It is puzzling,” I said. “And funny Doug didn’t find his father’s gold. There are mounds all over his back yard so he was obviously digging stuff up.”
Max set down his spoon. I realised he had finished his pecan pie already. Maybe I should have given him a bigger slice. “And exactly what was Angus doing at the house?” Max said. “Maybe he was there to meet Doug so he could do away with him.”
I nearly told him that Angus mentioned a crowbar, but then I remembered that I could hardly tell Max. I knew Angus went there to look for the treasure. It wasn’t the first time I wished I would be able to share information with Max. Still, once he found out I was a sea witch he might never want to speak to me again. That is, if he even believed me in the first place.
“Yes, it’s a pity we couldn’t speak to the victim’s ghost,” Athanasius said with a wink at me. “We could get more information from him. We could ask him where Chris Coleman’s son is. You know, I’ve googled it, but it’s a common name and we don’t even know what town he’s in. And even if we did, he might not agree to a meeting. If he is the murderer, he certainly wouldn’t agree to speak with us.”
“Honestly, the three of you are impossible,” Max said. “I really don’t want you investigating. Goldie has nearly been killed three times and I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
Once again I felt myself blushing.
“Goldie, your face is red again,” Athanasius said. “Ouch! Who kicked me under the table?”
“Oh, sorry, was that your leg? My right leg was itchy, so I wanted to scratch it with my left heel. Sorry, I must have missed.” Oleander shot Athanasius a sweet
smile.
Before anyone could say anything else, Max’s phone rang. “I have to take this,” he said. “Thank you for dinner, Goldie. This was lovely. See you all later.” He hurried to the door, but not before I heard him say, “Yes? You have news?”
Chapter 13
Persnickle, Oleander, and Athanasius were sitting in my car. I was about to drive to Doug Greer’s house when I realised I had left the vinegar separation bottle for the investigator in the house. “Be right back,” I said.
I sprinted to the front door, unlocked it, continued on to the kitchen, made sure I was getting the right vinegar bottle, and hurried back to the car.
“I’m going to dispose of the ritual remains on the way to Doug Greer’s house,” I said as I drove off.
After a few minutes, Athanasius asked me, “Why are you going this way?”
“I always dispose of ritual remains at a crossroad,” I told him, “and I don’t want an audience, so I’m heading to the most remote crossroads I can find.”
I found the crossroads soon after I moved to East Bucklebury. They were on a road that used to run to the old highway before the M1 was built. What’s more, there were no houses overlooking the crossroads. Probably the only audience was a cane toad or two.
I turned the car the way I would leave and hopped out. I glanced around to make sure nobody was looking and dug a hole. The dirt was nice and soft after the recent rain so it didn’t take me long, although I did get dirt under my fingernails. I buried the bottle, filled in the hole, and then threw some coins on the top as an offering. I got back into the car and drove away, being careful not to look back.
“Your vinegar bottle sure worked with the investigator and I hope it works as well on Power,” Oleander said.
“I’m sure it is working nicely on him, but I can’t take any chances. After all, he did throw you in the Southport watchhouse!”
Oleander shuddered. “Don’t remind me!”
When we got to Doug’s house, I continued on past it, down the road.
“You’ve missed it,” Athanasius said from the back seat.
“I didn’t miss it. I’m just scouting just in case Power’s here, or maybe even Thomas,” I said, “stalking me.”
