‘Good point,’ Jared said. ‘If you don’t come to us, we’ll come to you. And we’ll be keeping an eye out the whole time, okay? If you need us, just holler.’
‘Thanks guys.’ I felt a genuine swell of fondness, and had to stop myself from hugging the three of them. ‘I’ll see you later.’
I joined Arnold in his booth, sliding in across from him. The fabric on the seats was a little on the shabby side, but it sure was comfortable.
‘I see you’re making friends.’ Arnold nodded in the direction of the bar.
I picked up a menu and began to study it. ‘Mm hm,’ I said quietly. The menu was far shorter than the one on the train. There was steak and chips, lamb stew, and a seafood platter. There was a choice of apple tart with ice cream or apple tart with custard for dessert.
Arnold seemed about to say something when a waitress approached. She was a woman in her sixties or so, with dyed red hair and the sort of outfit that made her look like a medieval wench. ‘Welcome to the Fisherman’s Friend,’ she said. ‘I’m Bod’s wife, Biddy.’ She pointed to the bar, where a man with an eye-patch and a fake parrot on his shoulder was pouring a pint. How had I missed him when I walked in? ‘That’s Bod,’ said Biddy. ‘Now, I know Arnold very well, but I’ve never seen you before, my love.’
I pasted a smile on my face. ‘Well, you probably won’t be seeing much of me in the future, either. Arnold has me on trial at the Daily Riddler, and he’s very fussy about who he hires.’
‘The Daily Riddler!’ Biddy’s blue eyes widened, and a crazed look took over her face. ‘I just love their puzzles. Will you be adding more? Please say you’ll be adding more.’
‘That’s not really my department,’ I said. ‘I’m covering local news and events.’
‘Oh.’ Biddy’s face fell. ‘Well, that’s almost as good as doing the puzzles, I suppose. Although not much happens here. The local choir will be singing sea shanties in a fortnight. That might be worth covering. So what can I get you? The seafood platter’s on special offer. A platter for two is only a fiver. We’ll even throw in free chips.’
‘Thanks, but I can’t stand seafood.’ Actually, I loved seafood almost as much as I loved minestrone soup. But if you could get a platter for five quid, then it was probably best to heed Grace’s warning. ‘I’ll have the steak and chips.’
‘Me too,’ said Arnold. ‘And we’ll have a bottle of your finest red.’
Biddy scribbled our orders down quickly, and went to walk away. ‘I’ll have a lemonade, actually,’ I called after her. ‘Not much of a wine drinker.’ Another lie. But I wasn’t about to drink anything Arnold gave me tonight. I’d be watching my lemonade like a hawk, too, because as soon as I looked away, he’d probably slip a potion into my glass.
‘You’re suspicious of me,’ he said sadly. ‘I can’t say I blame you. By now you know that I lied about my daughter. Her position has been vacant for far longer than I led you to believe. And though I wish she were, she isn’t spending her time writing crime novels.’ He let out a long sigh. ‘Dylan never should have told you the things he did. He’s made it all so much more difficult for you. I might have to have a word with his superiors, see if I can get him moved from Riddler’s Edge.’
For about ten seconds, I just stared. He still had that sweet old man expression on his face, all benign and innocent. But he was so far from innocent in all of this. ‘You ...’ I began, shaking my head. ‘You …’ I continued, clearly getting into my stride. ‘You can’t …’
Biddy arrived with our drinks, and I clutched my lemonade while I waited for her to leave.
‘This is not Detective Quinn’s fault!’ I hissed once she was out of earshot. ‘I pestered him into telling me the truth, and I still don’t think he would have told me a thing if he hadn’t thought I could handle it. He is a good man. A cantankerous one, maybe, but a good one, and if you try and get him relocated you’ll probably make an enemy of pretty much everyone in Riddler’s Edge. And what does it matter, anyway? He could have told me the biggest secret in the world, and it wouldn’t matter a jot. You’re just going to go and wipe my memory on Friday, the way you did with the other reporters. So why shouldn’t I know the truth, even if it’s just for a little while? And–’ Once again, I had to pause while Biddy arrived. This time she had our meals, and she chatted for at least two minutes before leaving the table.
By the time she was gone, I was all out of anger. I just stared at Arnold, shaking my head. ‘You know what? It doesn’t matter. You’ll just go ahead and do what you want. Just tell me though, will you – what is the criteria that a person has to meet in order not to get their memory wiped?’
He had begun to cut into his steak, and he ate about a quarter of it before answering. ‘You’ve already surpassed the others. Grace tells me that Dylan believes you can see things. He told her, apparently, that you could see the Wandering Wood. He said that you were figuring it all out on your own, anyway, and that all he did was help things along. I do believe you might just be the person I’m looking for. I have every confidence that you’ll pass the final trial on Friday.’
I sat back, arms folded, regarding him. Sure, I hadn’t eaten since lunch time, but the thought of eating with him was suddenly turning my stomach. He still had that sweet-guy smile on his face, like he thought he was doing me a favour by giving me this opportunity in the first place. ‘You’re not just looking for any old reporter, are you? You’re looking for something more than that. I mean, there are people all over Ireland who know about the supernatural world and who help you keep it quiet. Like John. I’ll bet his whole job is to make sure the real stories never make it as far as the public.’
His smile widened, and he put down his cutlery and clapped his hands. ‘You really are the best candidate, by far. I knew it as soon as I met you.’
I sniffed my lemonade, and took a cautious sip. ‘You should record your conversations, you know. I think that listening back to them might give you some valuable insight into your many personality flaws. I’ve seen the Daily Riddler’s employment records, and every single one of those reporters whose memory you wiped would have been an excellent candidate for any newspaper. Each of them deserved the job on journalistic merit alone. So just come out and tell me, what are you really looking for? You might as well. I’ll have forgotten it come Friday.’
He drained a full glass of wine before replying. Once he set the glass back on the table, I could see that the false smile had finally left his face. But it wasn’t replaced by the wiliness I expected to see in its place. Instead, he looked sad. Deeply, truly sad. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you. I am looking for someone in particular. I’m looking for my granddaughter.’
19. Family Ties
‘Once there was a little girl,’ said Arnold, refilling his glass and sitting back. ‘And she was the loveliest little girl in the world. Her hair was a golden shade of red, her eyes were as blue as the sky, and her father loved her more than anything. Her mother had died in childbirth, so it was just the two of them, and yet it never felt lonely. They were so alike, you see. Kindred spirits. She loved to read and write, just as her father did. And oh, the stories she concocted.’
He paused to wipe a tear from his eye, and I waited patiently, not wanting to say a thing that might make him stop.
‘As she grew older, she grew headstrong. But her father didn’t mind, not at first. She was a chip off the old block, as they say. She started to work for one of his newspapers, and her stubbornness ensured she always uncovered the real story. Her articles won awards all over the supernatural world. Her father couldn’t have been prouder. But then … then another man entered her life. She and her father fought about it, and she refused to leave this man. He was all wrong for her, she just couldn’t see it. But her father could. And he thought that, with a good dose of tough love, she would see it too.’ His voice trailed off, and he gazed down into his wine glass. He had long forgotten about the remainder of his steak, and all of his chips were as
cold and uneaten as mine.
For a few minutes I remained patient, but when he said nothing more, I finally spoke. ‘Arnold, you have to tell me the rest. What do you mean tough love? What did you do? Did you find a way to break them up?’
He tossed back his wine and gasped. ‘Oh, I did more than that. I found a spell that would break the bond this young man had with my daughter. And I … I ensured that my daughter would never find him again, not even if she searched until the end of time.’ He took another drink and gasped again. ‘I tried to make her forget him, too. I tried a spell that would bond her to me, and make sure she never left me. I … I loved her, you see. And she was only going to choose the wrong sort of man again. I knew that I could make a better choice for her, when it was time. I could find a man who truly deserved her. But she wasn’t just as headstrong as me – she was like me in many other ways, too. Her power rivalled mine – maybe even surpassed it. The spell never took hold of her. Not fully. She never stopped loving this man. And she never stopped hating me, for taking him from her. And then one day she told me … she told me that she was pregnant. She said she would leave Riddler’s Cove, and that I would never meet my grandchild. She said … she said she would take inspiration from the spell I’d performed on the man she loved. She would break any ties the child had to the Albright coven, and that the child would never step foot in the supernatural world. She broke my heart. She broke my heart when all I did was try to be the best father I could possibly be.’
His bottle of wine was beginning to look very tempting. I’d been right to be wary of this man. He had destroyed his daughter’s life, forcing her to make the only choice possible – getting herself and her child as far away from him as she could. And even now, he seemed to believe he had been acting out of love. He actually believed he was the injured party. What could I possibly say to a man like that?
‘I used everything at my disposal to track my Abby down, and to bring she and her child back to me, where they belonged. But Abby’s spell was so powerful. She had cut all family ties, all coven ties. I couldn’t trace her. Almost two years after she left, the seers I employed told me she was dead. Once she died, the spell she had done to hide herself came to an end. She was cremated before I got to her. It turned out she had been hiding in the human world all along. But the child she bore … that child was still hidden. Still impossible to find. I managed to discover that the child had been a little girl, but I could find nothing more. Then, three years ago, I received further intelligence. I was told that the child had entered the Irish care system. And so I began to sift through adoption and foster records, looking for women of the right age who shared Abby’s traits. I couldn’t be accurate on the birth date, but I had a rough idea. The other three journalists I hired all seemed to fit the bill. They were the right age, they had all been abandoned as babies. But when they arrived here, it was clear to me that none of them were my granddaughter.’
I still wasn’t sure he was deserving of the energy it would take me to speak. But my curiosity and irritation were winning me over. ‘How exactly was it clear? How could it be? If Abby separated her child from the magical world, then she most likely found a spell to suppress that child’s power, too. So you certainly couldn’t tell who your granddaughter was based on whether or not they were magical. And even if they were the child of a witch like Abby, that doesn’t necessarily mean they would have power. There are unempowered witches, aren’t there?’
He poured what was left of the bottle into his glass. Probably just as well. I didn’t need to be annoyed and drunk. That was never a good combination.
‘That’s exactly the sort of question my Abby would have asked,’ he said. ‘And that’s what I was looking for in an employee. Someone who saw to the core of the matter. Someone who could never be fobbed off by a flimsy excuse. The other women I hired seemed like that. They had exposed corrupt politicians and dug up evidence that put the worst of people behind bars. They were truly amazing women. But once they got to Riddler’s Edge, all of that changed. Aisling, this town is filled with spells. Spells to make the townsfolk look the other way. Spells to make sure that the border between here and Riddler’s Cove is never crossed by the wrong person. And those reporters … they succumbed to those spells in the same way as every single human here does. You say you pestered Detective Quinn into telling you the truth? Well, none of the others did. They were fine reporters. Exemplary women. But even if my Abby hadn’t an ounce of power to her name, she would have seen through it all. She would have gotten to the truth of the matter, even here. And I know that her daughter would be just the same.’ He gave me a hopeful look. ‘So you see now, don’t you? You see that you must be my granddaughter. You have to be. You’re the first one to have gotten this far.’
My eyes began to water. Not because I was sad for him, but because I was sad for Abby, and for her daughter. ‘I’m nothing special,’ I said. ‘I’ve been doing some research, and I know that there are people out there with a small degree of power. Enough to catch glimpses of supernatural elements, but not to see the whole picture. If I’m like that, it doesn’t make me your granddaughter, Arnold. And to dismiss those other girls because they had no magic was incredibly short-sighted. Like I said, Abby could have suppressed her child’s power. Or the child could simply be unempowered. I have no idea why you’ve let this farce go on for so long. I mean, haven’t witches ever heard of a DNA test?’
‘It wouldn’t work. Abby’s spell made sure of that. But I do have a way I could tell. And that’s what I’ll be doing on Friday, if you’ll so permit. The final test. It will tell me once and for all whether or not you’re my granddaughter.’
I held my head in my hands, unable to believe what I was hearing. ‘You have a test that could give you certain results? You’ve had this test all along? And … what? You didn’t even bother to carry it out on the others? You just decided they weren’t your granddaughter based on completely weak notions, and never even tried to prove the case either way. I’ll tell you what I think, Arnold.’ I felt my upper lip curl as I looked at him. ‘I think you don’t really want to find your granddaughter. Not deep down. Because otherwise, you would have done this final test on the others. You don’t want to find her because you’re afraid. You’re afraid that she’ll hate you just as much as Abby did.’
I stood up, placing my bag over my shoulder and stepping out of the booth. ‘And you know what else I think? I think Abby made the right decision. Because if I was your granddaughter, then I’d want nothing to do with you.’
20. The Sweet, Sweet Taste of Crud
As I marched out of the Fisherman’s Friend, Arnold called me back. I ignored him and kept right on marching. I was halfway across the carpark when Pru, Greg and Jared caught up with me.
‘Are you all right?’ Greg asked, panting.
‘Fine,’ I replied. ‘Just dandy. I needed some fresh air, that’s all.’
The three of them stood in front of me, blocking my path. They must have moved their behinds pretty sharpish to chase after me, and yet Greg was the only one who was out of breath. Jared and Pru looked just as perfect as always.
‘You’re not dandy,’ said Jared. ‘I can tell. Anyway, who says dandy anymore?’
I sighed. ‘I say dandy. And how can you tell whether I’m dandy or not? You’d better not be reading my mind.’
‘He’s not,’ Greg assured me. He held up another one of his gadgets. It looked like a simple black plastic ball, but seeing as it was Greg, I knew there was more to it. ‘This would be turning purple if he was.’
‘But hey, at least you remember my brother is a vampire.’ Pru gave my arm a squeeze. ‘Things looked so intense between you and Arnold that we were afraid he might decide to end your trial early. So … what did you guys talk about?’
I sat down on a bench, feeling exhausted. ‘Abby. His daughter. He hasn’t been looking for a reporter all this time. He’s been looking for Abby’s child. His granddaughter.’
Pru sat bes
ide me, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘You’re not serious. I heard Abby ran away years ago, but I had no idea she had a kid. That makes this whole memory-wiping thing even more dubious. We should go speak to the Wayfarers about this. I’m not exactly a wunderkind when it comes to Magical Law, but I’ll bet there’s something they can do to stop him.’
Greg sat on the ground in front of us, biting his lip. ‘I em … I might have guessed it was his granddaughter he was looking for. I think Grace figured it out, too. But when I told you I knew nothing about the memory wiping, I meant it. Me, Grace and Dylan were all in the dark about that until recently. It was only when Dylan ran into one of the reporters in Dublin and she didn’t recognise him that we realised what had happened. And Dylan’s doing his nut about the whole thing. I think we really do have a case to bring to the Wayfarers. Grace wants to hire you, I know she does. We should all get together and go and make an official complaint.’
I’d been close to tears when I was with Arnold, but now I was really having trouble holding that salty water back. I’d been here three days, and already I felt like these people were my friends. I’d never been so comfortable in all my life, and the last thing I wanted was to lose that feeling. But the practical side of my brain was ticking away, as always.
‘I can’t let you do that, Greg,’ I said. ‘Arnold is your boss. He’s Grace’s boss, too. Even if these Wayfarers decide to uphold a complaint against him, where will that get us? Either he’ll go to jail and sell the paper, meaning you guys’ll be out of a job. Or else these Wayfarers will say that he’s doing nothing they can convict him of. And in that scenario, he’ll probably still kick you out of your jobs.’
Greg shrugged. ‘Grace is the Daily Riddler. Arnold wouldn’t dream of firing her. And it’s not like I don’t have options. I have a lot of tech that the Wayfarers would pay me a fortune to get their hands on. I’ve held off selling anything because I’m a contrary son of a wizard, but believe me – I’ll be quids in if I do. So don’t worry about us. Worry about you. Do you want to work for the paper or not? Because if you do, we’ll try our best to make that happen.’
A Little Bit Witchy (A Riddler's Edge Cozy Mystery #1) Page 12
