DARK, WITCH & CREAMY

by HANNA, H. Y.

  Caitlyn pulled herself up sharply. What was she thinking? This was ridiculous! Since when had she started thinking about using magic like it was real? Since when had she started believing that people could really hex others? The Widow Mags wasn’t a witch—she was just a cranky old woman who made delicious chocolates!

  “Caitlyn? Caitlyn? Are you still there?”

  “Mmm… yes, sorry,” Caitlyn mumbled.

  “So when are you coming back?”

  Caitlyn didn’t answer for a moment, then she said: “Not for a while yet. I still haven’t really had a chance to ask my own questions. The whole village has just been so preoccupied with the murder and stuff. Oh, but listen to this… the Widow Mags recognised my runestone!”

  “She did?”

  “Yes, I showed it to her yesterday—her and her daughter, Bertha—and they both looked really shocked. Like they recognised it. They know something, I’m sure of it—maybe they even know my mother. I tried to ask but the Widow Mags shut me down. But I’m going to try again. And until I get some answers, I’m not leaving Tillyhenge.”

  “But Caitlyn, don’t you think—” There was a burst of static and Pomona’s voice disappeared.

  “Hello? Hello? Pomie, are you there?” Caitlyn lowered the phone and stared at the screen. It showed no signal. She sighed. It looked like she had lost the connection. She would have to try and call Pomona back later.

  Getting out of bed, Caitlyn splashed some cold water on her face and dressed hurriedly, then ran down the spiral staircase. The chocolate shop was open but she couldn’t see the Widow Mags out in front. Wandering into the rear of the cottage, Caitlyn thought she heard a sound coming from the kitchen. Actually, it sounded like it was coming from the stillroom, off to one side of the kitchen. It must have been the Widow Mags checking her supplies.

  Hurrying into the stillroom, Caitlyn said, “Good morning… um… when you’ve got a moment, can I please talk to you about—”

  She broke off in surprise when she saw who was in the stillroom. It wasn’t the Widow Mags—it was Amy Matthews, and she had her hand up on one of the shelves. It looked like she was reaching up either to get something or return something to its place.

  “Oh!” The young woman jumped in surprise and dropped whatever it was she had been holding. It hit the ground and rolled towards Caitlyn, who stooped to pick it up. It was a small glass vial with a label that said: “BELLADONNA EXTRACT”. She raised her eyes to find herself looking at Amy’s flushed, guilty face.

  The other woman smiled brightly. “Heavens, you really startled me!”

  “What are you doing here?” Caitlyn blurted.

  “I… um… I came to find something to put on my bruises. I remembered the Widow Mags giving me something last time which really helped them heal faster. I thought I’d ask her for some more but I couldn’t find her anywhere so I thought I’d just pop in here and have a quick look. I knew she wouldn’t mind,” Amy said breathlessly. “The last time I was here, she told me to come in and help myself whenever I needed something.”

  “Does belladonna help with bruising?” asked Caitlyn, frowning as she held the vial up.

  Amy gave an uneasy laugh. “Oh, is that belladonna? I didn’t realise. I must have misread the label. I was looking for arnica. The Widow Mags made a compress with it last time, which worked like magic… Ah, here it is”.

  Quickly, she whisked another vial off the shelf and held it up with a breezy smile. Caitlyn handed the vial of belladonna back to Amy and watched as the other woman reached up to replace it on the top shelf. She seemed very familiar with the room, her movements quick and sure.

  “Um… well, I guess I’ll go now…” Amy said, pocketing the vial of arnica. “If you see the Widow Mags, will you thank her f—”

  She broke off as they heard a hubbub in the street outside. Caitlyn hurried out of the front of the shop, Amy at her heels. People were running down the lane, heading towards the village green. In the distance, she could hear a bigger uproar—like the sound of many raised voices.

  “Hey!” she called at a lanky youth coming out of a cottage farther down the street. “What’s going on?”

  He gave her a wide-eyed look. “There’s been another murder!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Caitlyn ran with Amy towards the village green, bursting out into the open space to find a large crowd of people assembled outside the pub. Everyone was talking and gesticulating excitedly, then—as the crowd shifted and parted—Caitlyn saw the detective inspector from yesterday standing just outside the pub entrance. He was raising his hand for silence, and gradually the jabbering died away to be replaced by an uneasy anticipation.

  Inspector Walsh cleared his throat and began speaking: “I am afraid I have bad news. The body of reporter Rob Wiggins was found a few hours ago. It appears that he was murdered.”

  “Murdered!”

  “Oh my God, another one?”

  “It’s that witch—I know it’s her!”

  “We’re all going to be murdered in our beds!”

  “Please!” The inspector raised his voice. “I must ask you all to remain calm. There is no immediate danger to any other resident in this village.”

  “Is it the same person who killed Stan?” came a yell from the crowd.

  “We believe that the same person may be responsible for the two deaths, yes,” admitted the inspector.

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “Are you going to make an arrest?”

  “We are still continuing with our investigation,” said the inspector. “And I hope to have an update for you shortly. In the meantime, the best thing you can do to help us is to remain calm and answer any questions that we may have."

  “I heard you arrested that old witch woman!” a voice piped up. “The Widow Mags! I saw your constables marching her into the pub.”

  Caitlyn felt a stab of alarm. Had they really arrested the Widow Mags?

  All around her, the voices were rising again.

  “I knew it! I knew it was her!”

  “I always said that she was a witch!”

  “That woman is a menace!”

  “Did you hear what happened at the chocolate shop yesterday? They say she hexed Angela and her friends and gave them all warts!”

  Gasps. “No, really? She needs to be put away—”

  “Please!” The inspector held both hands up, palms out. “Please, I must ask you not to indulge in unnecessary and unhelpful speculation! The Widow Mags is helping us with enquiries, yes, but she is not under arrest.”

  “Is she a suspect for the murder?” someone asked.

  The inspector hesitated. “She is one of several people we are questioning. I will let you all know when we have further news. In the meantime, please come forward to speak to one of my constables if you have any information concerning Rob Wiggins or his murder. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  He turned and made his way back into the pub. Caitlyn hesitated a moment, then darted through the crowd until she arrived at the pub door. She expected the young policeman standing outside to turn her away but, when she gave her name, he said:

  “Miss Le Fey? Inspector Walsh has been hoping to speak to you. If you can wait inside, I’ll let the inspector know you’re here.”

  Inside, Caitlyn found Bertha and Evie talking to a harassed-looking young sergeant.

  “Ma’am, I can assure you, we are not mistreating your mother in any way. She is simply helping us with enquiries,” said the sergeant. “She is not under arrest.”

  “Then why can’t I see her?” demanded Bertha. “Why are you keeping her in the back room?”

  “She’s been detained while we conduct the necessary investigation into the latest murder—but it’s only temporary. She’ll be released as soon as we’re satisfied we have all the information we require.” He indicated one of the wooden booths. “If you’ll take a seat, ma’am, we’ll let you know as soon as you can see her.”

  He disappeared thro
ugh the doorway leading into the private rooms at the back of the pub. Bertha heaved an angry sigh and sat down in the booth.

  Evie hovered next to her. “Mum, why didn’t you just do some magic to make him let you through to see Grandma?”

  Bertha frowned at her. “I told you, Evie, you can’t use magic willy-nilly for every problem!”

  “I don’t see why not,” pouted Evie. “If you’ve got it, why not use it? It seems stupid not to take advantage of it. It’s a perk, right?"

  “No, it’s not a perk—it’s a gift,” said Bertha severely. “And it shouldn’t be taken for granted. It can be dangerous and addictive if you get too used to using it. Besides, you shouldn’t be using magic to manipulate others against their will. That’s—oh, Caitlyn, I’m so glad to see you here!”

  Bertha sprang up, her face breaking into a smile of relief.

  “What happened?” asked Caitlyn. “I know Rob Wiggins was murdered but why are they holding your mother?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Bertha with a sigh. “I think they found traces of chocolate on Wiggins’s body. He was found up by the stone circle—it looks like he went there last night after leaving the pub, although no one saw him walking there. He was poisoned, just like Stan Matthews.”

  “With belladonna?”

  “I think so. The police wouldn’t tell me much.” She paused, then asked, “Did you see my mother last night?”

  Caitlyn shook her head. “No, she wasn’t around when I got back from the pub after dinner. The back door of the cottage was open. I wondered if she’d gone out for a walk or something.”

  “Yes, she might have. She was very disturbed after seeing your… She had a lot on her mind.”

  “Miss Le Fey? Inspector Walsh will see you now.”

  Caitlyn turned to find the sergeant standing behind her. She gave Bertha a wan smile and followed the sergeant to the back of the pub. He showed her into a room at the end of the corridor. It was a small sitting room and the inspector was in an armchair, perusing some papers on his lap. But what made her stop short was the sight of James Fitzroy sitting in the other armchair, looking cool and elegant in a charcoal grey three-piece suit and a royal blue tie. He didn’t acknowledge her as she came in and seemed content to sit in the background.

  Inspector Walsh looked up. “Ah. Miss Le Fey—please, have a seat.”

  Caitlyn sat down, trying not to look at James.

  “Now…” The inspector shuffled the papers and laid them aside, then leaned forwards and regarded Caitlyn with shrewd eyes. “I understand you’re a lodger at Bewitched by Chocolate?”

  “Um… yes, I’ve been staying there the last couple of days.”

  “May I ask why you chose to stay there?”

  “There was no room at the pub so somebody suggested the chocolate shop.”

  “And can you tell me, when was the last time you saw the Widow Mags?”

  “Er… well… it would be around six in the evening yesterday, I think. I was helping her clear up the mess in the shop.”

  The inspector raised his eyebrows slightly and Caitlyn felt obliged to explain.

  “The Widow Mags has arthritis and it’s hard for her to do certain things, so I thought I’d help out.”

  “That’s extremely charitable of you,” commented the inspector dryly.

  Caitlyn shrugged. “I’m… I’m on vacation. I haven’t got anything particular to do anyway.”

  “Still, it seems unusual… May I ask, what is the nature of your relationship with the Widow Mags?”

  “The nature of our relationship…?” Caitlyn looked at him blankly. “What do you mean? I only met her the day before yesterday, when I arrived in Tillyhenge.”

  “And yet you are happy to devote so much of your holiday time to helping a stranger?” The inspector raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “One would think that there has to be some kind of prior relationship or connection between you…?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Caitlyn. “Haven’t you ever helped a stranger in your life? Done something kind just because you could?”

  “Hmm…” Inspector Walsh was silent for a moment, then he said, “And have you noticed anything strange or untoward during your time in the chocolate shop?”

  Caitlyn swallowed. “You mean, like what Angela was saying about the chocolate warts—”

  The inspector waved an impatient hand. “No, no, not that nonsense. I mean, something else. Something which might be pertinent to the murder case.”

  Caitlyn hesitated. “Well, I don’t know if this is relevant but… the first night I was staying there, I woke up in the middle of the night. I looked out my window and saw a bonfire.”

  “A bonfire?”

  “Yes, a large one. At the site of the stone circle.”

  “Ah…” Again, the inspector waved an impatient hand. “Yes, we know about that. Lord Fitzroy mentioned it. It’s probably nothing. There have been some reports of arson in a few other villages in this area. A couple of teenage boys playing around with things they shouldn’t. It’s the summer holidays at the moment—kids are off from school, looking for trouble.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think this is the same thing. This was in the centre of the stone circle and looked like… well, it looked like a ritual fire.”

  “Ritual fire?” The inspector’s tone was sarcastic. “Miss Le Fey, I think you’re letting your imagination run away with you. Don’t let the local gossip give you ideas. There’s been a long tradition of pagan beliefs and fascination with myths and legends in Tillyhenge. People are always quick to think of a supernatural cause—and especially with that stone circle nearby. I imagine it’s profitable for them, what with all the tourists. You know, there are so many villages in the Cotswolds—they have to compete with each other for tourism and everyone wants to be unique. Tillyhenge is just trying to sell itself as the village with witchcraft and magical connections.”

  “But when I asked the local villagers about it, they all seemed to clam up! It was almost like they were hiding something—”

  “Miss Le Fey.” The inspector sounded bored now. “Let me assure you that the fire is nothing to worry about. Now,” he said, changing the subject briskly, “I believe you were at the pub all evening last night?”

  Caitlyn resisted the impulse to glance at James. “Yes, I had dinner there. With Hans van Driesen.”

  “Ah yes. Mr van Driesen…” Inspector Walsh trailed off meaningfully. “And did you see Rob Wiggins while you were at the pub?”

  “Yeah, I did, actually. When I arrived, he was at the bar talking to Mr van Driesen. I think Rob Wiggins was interviewing him—he was busy writing notes. And then I saw him again later,” added Caitlyn, remembering. “He came past our table just as we finished eating. I thought he looked a bit unwell. He asked if he could have my water and then gulped the whole glass in one go.”

  The inspector nodded. “Extreme thirst and a dry mouth are common symptoms of atropine poisoning.”

  Caitlyn stared at him. “Atropine? So Wiggins was definitely poisoned as well?”

  “We’ll have to wait for the toxicology analysis to confirm things but yes, on initial examination, the forensic pathologist believes that he was murdered by the same poison which killed Stan Matthews. Atropine, derived from extract of belladonna.” Inspector Walsh paused, then added significantly, “And we also found traces of chocolate on his fingers. Again, it will have to be confirmed by tests but we believe it will match the chocolate found on Stan Matthews’s body.”

  Caitlyn shook her head. “Come on, you don’t really think that the Widow Mags murdered him? Or Stan Matthews?"

  “I’m not thinking anything at the moment,” said the inspector evenly. “I’m just gathering evidence. But I must say, right now, a lot of the evidence points towards the Widow Mags.”

  “She wasn’t even at the pub last night!” said Caitlyn. “How could she have poisoned Rob Wiggins?”

  “Depending on the dose, belladonna can
be a slow-acting poison. It can take several hours for the symptoms to manifest.” Inspector Walsh leaned back and added, his voice suggestive, “Rob Wiggins was at the chocolate shop earlier in the afternoon yesterday.”

  Caitlyn shook her head impatiently. “But it doesn’t make sense—why would the Widow Mags want to kill a journalist? For that matter, why would she want to kill Stan Matthews? She’s got no motive."

  “Well, I’ve been speaking to Lord Fitzroy here and I believe she could have a very good motive,” said the inspector, nodding towards James.

  Caitlyn glanced across at him. James’s face was carefully blank of all expression, his grey eyes shuttered.

  She turned back to the inspector. “What do you mean?”

  “She is very friendly with Amy Matthews, the gamekeeper’s wife, isn’t she? And I understand that Amy was being physically abused by her husband. As I suggested yesterday, it would be understandable if the Widow Mags felt compelled to help—”

  “That’s ridiculous!” said Caitlyn hotly. “You’re suggesting that she would help someone murder their husband? The Widow Mags would never do that!”

  Inspector Walsh raised his eyebrows. “Really? And yet yesterday, when I questioned her at the chocolate shop, she sounded like she would have been glad to help.”

  Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “That’s just something people say—like saying, ‘I’ll kill him!’—but they don’t really mean it. The Widow Mags’s bark is worse than her bite. I almost think she likes to say things just to shock people. She wouldn’t really have done it.”

  “You seem very confident of knowing how she would act. And yet you’ve only known this woman… how many days did you say? Since the day before yesterday?” His tone was sarcastic.

  Caitlyn flushed. “Well, I’ve spent quite a lot of time with her. And you… you get a vibe from someone.”

  “But yet you maintain that you never met her before. You say you have no prior history with her, no relationship, no other connection. So how can you know her so well?” asked the inspector. “We have interviewed several of the villagers and everyone seems to be scared of her. They all say that she’s been in the village for as long as they can remember, and yet none of them really know much about her, beyond the fact that she makes chocolates. It seems strange, doesn’t it, to have someone resident in a place for so long and yet to be so excluded from the community?”