by Morgana Best
I burst through my front door, calling for Camino. I hurried into the spare bedroom, but she wasn’t there. For the first time, I wished I had a landline.
At any rate, solving the murder would have to wait. I needed to reverse the Onesie spell, particularly now the Stay Puft appeared to be angry. I was running out of time. It was Halloween, and the first trick or treaters would be arriving soon.
I plugged in my phone at once, and while I was waiting for it to charge, I would do the spell, the sooner the better. As I made my way to my altar room, I saw the return address on the top envelope: Shear-lock Combs Wig Emporium. It was addressed to Bernard.
I ripped it open at once. It contained a coloured brochure, along with a receipt for a short wig described as a ‘Wavy Brush Up Hairstyle Human Hair Full Lace Men’s Wig In Medium Brown.’
I stared at the image of the wig. Okay, this could not be a coincidence. Bernard’s hair was most unbecoming: long, sparse, and straggly. He would look completely different in that wig. It was then I remembered the stubble. On each occasion I had met him, his five o’clock shadow had been pronounced, with one notable exception: the first time I had met him, which was only a couple of days after the murder.
If Bernard had shaved his face and worn a wig, no one in the hospital ward would have recognised him. He would easily have been mistaken for a visitor.
The house turned up the volume on the television. I was about to ask her to turn it down, when I realised it was the news. I hurried over to look at the screen.
The news report was about Henry Vanderbilt, specifically, how his film career had taken a dramatic turn for the worse.
The penny dropped. I remembered that Henry’s lawyer, Celia Hunt, had mentioned in passing that the estate would now not have to be sold. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now I realised that Henry had intended to sell the estate.
Of course! This would have left Bernard penniless. Bernard would have been in a terrible position if that had happened. He had no career, nowhere to live. His only option was to live on his meagre disability pension. By murdering his brother, Bernard would inherit the estate and thus secure his future.
I hurried to my phone and tried to call Alder. The phone’s charge was insufficient to make the call. No matter, while I was waiting, I would reverse the onesie spell.
I hurried to my altar room to fetch a red and black, glass-encased reversing candle, Blockbuster Oil, and coffee. I decided to do the reversing spell in the same place as the original spell. After all, I didn’t want to take any chances. I made seven holes in the top of the reversing candle wax, and poured in the Blockbuster Oil. I placed the reversing candle on the book, and wrote on the name paper, The spell granting Camino her heart’s desire for her onesies is reversed.
I wrote the same words on another name paper and placed it between the candle and the book. I lit the candle, said the words aloud, and then with tweezers, held the second name paper over the flame. It burnt quickly and thoroughly. I heaved a sigh of relief.
I was about to throw a little coffee into the flame to speed up the spell, when there was a knock on the door.
It couldn’t be Kayleen—even she couldn’t ride so fast—so I figured it must be early trick or treaters. I picked up the large bowl of candy and opened the door.
There, standing by the front porch, was Bernard.
He was wearing a wavy brown wig and his face was cleanly shaven.
I knew at once he had come to kill me.
Chapter 22
Bernard pushed past me into the living room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“I saw you at my estate, when I was chased by the alien.” He shook his head. “And I always thought alien abductions were not real.”
“That wasn’t an alien,” I said. “That was the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. You know, from Ghostbusters.”
Right on cue, the house turned up the volume on the TV and the Ghostbusters theme song played.
Bernard advanced upon me. “I don’t know what you’re playing at. And you said you were a detective, but I’ve asked around town, and you’re just a cake store owner.”
“Just a cake store owner!” I was offended. “Do you know how hard it is to run a cake store, especially for someone who can’t bake?”
“The game is up, Ms Spelled. You saw me running. The rest of the world thinks I’m in a wheelchair, or at least on crutches.”
My curiosity got the better of me. “But your brother, Henry, really did push you off the bridge into that pond, didn’t he?”
Bernard nodded vigorously. “Yes, he did! He was a terrible person. I had several surgeries on my back.”
“But you obviously recovered.” I gestured up and down him.
“Yes, but it took years and plenty of physiotherapy,” he said. “I didn’t tell my grandfather, because he would have made me do all the chores around the estate. He didn’t agree with paying for help, you see. Henry escaped all that when he went to Hollywood.”
I knew there was no point keeping up any pretence, otherwise Bernard would not have arrived in disguise. “So you murdered your brother because he was going to sell the estate.” I said it as a statement, not a question.
Bernard nodded and took one step towards me. I took one step backwards. Even though I knew the house would save me, I was a little afraid.
“I wanted to murder him plenty of times over the years, but murder—well, it’s a big step, you see?”
I nodded.
He pushed on. “How did you figure it out?”
“I only started to put it together when I saw you running,” I said. “And I happened to acquire some of your mail when I nearly ran over the mail lady.” I pointed to the brochure and invoice lying on the table.
Bernard walked over to the table, picked up the invoice, and turned it over. “My wig. How clever.”
“And then there was the fact that you always had heavy stubble on your face, apart from the first time I saw you at your brother’s funeral, when it was quite light stubble. I figured you had recently shaven it off.”
“You’re quite the detective, aren’t you, Miss Spelled!”
I wanted to keep him talking. Alder should be home at any minute. “The thing that had me puzzled was that you weren’t seen at the hospital.”
Bernard smiled, exposing a row of small, yellowed teeth. “To the contrary, I was seen by plenty of people, all of whom no doubt thought I was simply another visitor.”
“That’s what I meant, obviously. I thought it was a bit of a coincidence that everybody else who was at the hospital, the doctor, the nurse, Darius Dailey, even Nancy who was in a coma, all had a motive to murder Henry.”
He threw up both hands, palms upwards. “Not so much of a coincidence as you might think. Everybody who met Henry hated him—everybody except my grandfather, of course. Henry was a nasty piece of work.”
Something still puzzled me. “But what about Nancy Newton? Did you know she had slipped into a coma?”
“Yes, Henry mentioned it to me the night before. He had already been to see her the day before, you understand. I saw it as my opportunity, especially when he mentioned he had seen Dr Steven Stylish, and that woman he used to date, Angela whatshername, in the ward.”
He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “I couldn’t believe my luck! I caught a taxi to town the next day, changed in a public bathroom, and then caught another taxi in my disguise to the hospital. I knew the time Henry was going to visit Nancy. I stabbed him with some surgical scissors I found on one of the nurse’s stations outside one of the doors. I stole two pairs.”
“Why didn’t you try to make it look like an accident?” I asked him.
“That’s a stupid question,” he said snarkily. “How could I make it look like an accident? I would’ve had to make it look like an accident at the estate, which would point to me. I figured that if I murdered him in the hospital room, then the doctors a
nd nurses would be suspects, even Nancy herself. I was a bit sorry about her, since she was a nice nanny to me and to Henry too, but he didn’t let that prevent him from framing her for the jewellery he stole.”
“So he actually stole the jewellery?”
“Of course.” Bernard pulled a pair of surgical scissors from his coat and took a step towards me.
The front door flew open. I expected it to be Alder, but it was none other than the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
The house played the Ghostbusters theme again, as Bernard clutched the scissors and backed away.
I had no idea whether the Stay Puft had followed Bernard, or whether, due to the effects of the spell, he had returned to the place where he had come to life. I suspected I would never know.
Whatever the reason, the Stay Puft advanced upon Bernard. “Get him away from me!” Bernard screamed.
The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man stomped towards Bernard, his big marshmallow feet echoing on my wooden floorboards.
The house was obviously delighted to see the Stay Puft, and turned up the music. I lunged at the table, and in one fluid motion picked up the packet of coffee and threw the entire contents of the packet on the flame.
The scissors had already flown from Bernard’s hands, so I kicked them under the sofa.
The Stay Puft loomed over Bernard, who was cowering beside the fireplace, chanting, “Get it away from me! Get it away from me!”
At that moment, Camino walked through the door just in time to see the Stay Puft vanish. “What happened?” she asked.
“Call the police! My phone’s out of battery,” I said urgently. “Bernard’s the murderer.”
Camino, thankfully, didn’t ask any questions. She pulled out her phone.
It was then I noticed Marina was with Camino. “I reversed the onesie spell,” I said. “I got the book back from the Stay Puft.”
Marina pointed to Bernard. “Who is that?”
“It’s Bernard, the victim’s brother.” I walked over to him and pulled off his wig, revealing strands of his long, stringy hair.
Alder burst through the door. He ran over and enveloped me in a bear hug. “I had the most awful feeling that you were in danger,” he said with a glare at Marina. He held me away from him and looked me up and down, before pulling me back into a hug and kissing the top of my head. “What happened?”
“I went to the mansion like you said and saw the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man chasing Bernard. I got the book from the Stay Puft but then accidentally partially ran over Kayleen’s bike—she’s fine but very angry—and then some of Bernard’s mail flew onto my windscreen. When I got home, I saw it was a brochure and a receipt for a wig. I put two and two together and realised he was the murderer. He saw me watching him run away from the Stay Puft, so he came here to finish me off.” I said that all in one breath.
Alder stormed over to Bernard and picked him up by the collar. Bernard’s eyes were still shut tightly. “Get it away from me! Get it away from me!” he screamed, just as Detective Barrett and Chris stormed through the door.
“Bernard admitted that he killed his brother,” I told them. “He shaved, and wore this wig, and he’s not disabled.” I pointed to the wig on the floor. The cats were playing with it.
“Alder, you can put him down now,” Chris said in soothing tones.
“Get it away from me!” Bernard yelled again, his eyes still shut.
“Get what away from you?” Detective Barrett asked him.
“Can’t you see it? The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man just attacked me. He chased me for ages!”
As quick as a flash, I said, “I will get the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man away from you, if you tell the detectives the truth about what you did to your brother, Henry.”
Bernard clamped his hands over his eyes. “All right! All right! I stabbed my brother in Nancy Newton’s hospital room because he was going to sell the estate, the estate which was rightfully half mine. He brought it on himself, I tell you!”
With that, he opened his eyes. “Thank goodness! You weren’t lying! The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man has gone.”
Detective Barrett turned to me. “What on earth is this man talking about?”
I pointed to Ghostbusters on the TV. “I went to the Vanderbilt estate earlier, and saw Bernard going for a jog around the paddock. He saw me, so he came here to murder me. Everyone thinks he is still suffering from his injuries of course, and he’s on a disability pension. Anyway, he came here with surgical scissors to murder me. I kicked them under the sofa.”
Barrett narrowed his eyes. “And why didn’t he attack you?”
“He was going to, but he changed his mind. I think he was overcome with remorse for murdering his brother,” I said, making it up as I went. “He told me everything, how Henry told him Nancy was in a coma, and he knew what time Henry was going to visit her. He caught a taxi to town, changed into his disguise at a public bathroom, and then caught another taxi to the hospital, so no one could trace him. I was actually watching Ghostbusters when he arrived, and for some reason, he thought one of the characters from Ghostbusters was attacking him. It must have been the pressure of committing the murder.”
“Perhaps he has been watching too many television crime shows,” Barrett said. “Maybe he thinks he can get off on a plea of insanity, but it’s awfully hard to raise the mental illness defence successfully in Australia.”
The detectives looked at each other and chuckled. Barrett clapped handcuffs on Bernard and led him outside.
Alder swooped over to me. Camino shook her head at both of us before ushering Marina from the house.
“You know I don’t want you to do another spell for Marina,” Alder said, as he drew me into his arms. I pressed my head against his shoulder and exhaled hard. Today had certainly been stressful.
“I have to do the spell for Marina. You know the history,” I replied finally. I didn’t want to take my head off Alder’s shoulder, not yet at least.
“I know, but things almost went badly this year. Every Halloween, someone has tried to murder you as a direct result of Marina’s spell request. Who’s to say things will end well next year? Or the year after? This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Amelia. I couldn’t survive if anything ever happened to you.”
“Nothing will happen to me.”
Alder slid his hands down my trembling arms and pushed me back a little, just so he could stare hard into my eyes. “I know, because I would never let anything happen to you.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Alder sighed and rubbed my arms. I understood where he was coming from, but if every spell I did for Marina ended with me in the arms of my gorgeous, concerned husband, then my gorgeous, concerned husband was going to have a difficult time convincing me not to do any more spells for Marina.
Perhaps reading my thoughts, Alder let go of my arms and stepped back.
“I’m rewarding bad behaviour, aren’t I?” he said.
“What—no?” I replied in a tone of quiet desperation.
“I’m cuddling you.”
“You’re my husband. It’s your job to cuddle me.”
“You’re never going to stop doing the spells if I cuddle you after yet another Halloween spell has almost got you killed.”
“I have an obligation to my grandmother. I’m never going to stop doing the Halloween spells. It’s irrelevant whether you cuddle me after they go wrong or not.”
Alder huffed. “You really do make things impossible, you know that?”
“I do. I do know that.”
“I guess that’s something.”
“You want me to make us dinner?”
“No, I want to have a little talk with your pal, Marina. I can’t make you stop doing the spells when she asks, but I can make her stop asking.”
“How are you going to do a thing like that?”
Alder raised an eyebrow. “Threats, blackmail. I don’t know. I do know my wife’s health and safety is on the line, which means I wou
ld stop at nothing to get Marina to back off.”
“Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know,” Alder said sulkily.
I stepped forward and slipped myself into his arms. “Alder.”
“Of course I trust you,” he said, and then he pouted.
“Then trust me when I say I can handle the Halloween spell. Next year, things won’t go so wrong.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I do know if things to go wrong, you will be there to protect me. I mean, you will be there to protect me, right?”
Alder didn’t speak for a long moment. He nuzzled his face into my hair and kissed my head. Then he whispered in my ear, “Always.”
Chapter 23
I groaned. “Camino, please don’t make me wear a onesie. Really, I’ve had enough of onesies to last me a lifetime. I never want to see the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man again! Or a marshmallow, for that matter!”
“You don’t have to wear a onesie,” Camino said.
“Thank goodness.” I sunk into a chair.
“You have to wear a twinsie.”
I groaned. “Please tell that’s not a thing.”
“Then how come I am holding a twinsie, if a twinsie is not a thing? Answer me that, Amelia.”
Camino was indeed holding a twinsie—a onesie that was made for two people. It had three leg holes, four arm holes, and two neck holes. “And it’s pink,” she added as if this miraculously made the twinsie less terrifying.
I pulled a face. “Who exactly would I wear this twinsie with, Camino?”
“Alder, obviously.”
“No way.”
“Why not?” Camino stomped her foot.
“Because I don’t want a divorce.”
