by HANNA, H. Y.
“Omigod, as if the chocolate wasn’t bad enough…” said Pomona with a groan as she eyed the table. “I’m going to put on twenty pounds by the end of the week!”
“Surely you didn’t cook all this in twenty minutes?” said Caitlyn, staring at the table.
“Well… like you girls, we found that sometimes it helps to use a little bit of magic,” said Bertha with a wink.
Everyone laughed and they sat down to the meal. A happy, rowdy atmosphere permeated the room; everybody seemed to be talking at the same time, calling to each other to pass the dishes, exclaiming over the flavours, sharing jokes and laughter.
Caitlyn sat back and let it all wash over her like a wonderful warm shower. She had never experienced family meals like this. Barbara Le Fey had been kind but always distant and preoccupied, making absent-minded replies to Caitlyn’s attempts at conversation and rarely showing much interest in anything beyond her music and their upcoming travels.
Now Caitlyn looked at Bertha and the Widow Mags, bickering as usual, and at Evie, arguing passionately with Pomona about whether British men were sexier than American men, and she wondered wistfully what it would be like if this was her family…
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As they were finishing up dessert—stewed Cox apples with cinnamon sugar and home-made vanilla ice-cream—and leaning back contentedly in their chairs, the conversation turned serious at last and returned to the subject of the murder. Murders, Caitlyn reminded herself. There were two now.
“I think it’s definitely that South African hunter dude,” said Pomona. “The van Driesen guy. I mean, come on—the man’s used to killing animals, right? So he wouldn’t hesitate to do it.”
“It’s a big step from killing animals to killing humans,” said Caitlyn.
Pomona looked at her in surprise. “Don’t tell me you like the guy.”
Caitlyn paused, then said, “I’m not saying Hans van Driesen is good or anything but… well, he didn’t apologise for what he was. He wasn’t trying to be a hypocrite. I kind of liked that.”
“But you don’t agree with him about hunting the deer and other animals, do you?” gasped Evie, staring at Caitlyn in horror.
“No, no, of course I don’t,” said Caitlyn. “But us disapproving isn’t going to stop people like him doing it. All I’m saying is, I liked the way he was upfront with me.”
“Maybe he wasn’t really being upfront—maybe it was a double bluff,” said Pomona. “You know, like, come over all nice and cooperative… like, ‘Yeah, I’m a hunter—I’ve got nothing to hide’…” Pomona held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “And actually, it’s all just an act.”
“I agree with Pomona,” said Bertha. “I don’t think Mr van Driesen can be trusted.”
“Hmm… where would van Driesen get the poison though?” pondered Pomona.
“James—I mean, Lord Fitzroy,” Caitlyn corrected herself quickly, flushing, “—told me that atropine is used in lots of different drugs, like in eye drops and medications for excessive sweating, and it’s also used to treat slow heartbeats. Oh, and also as an antidote for other poisons.”
“Sounds like someone medical could get his hands on the poison really easily,” said Pomona. “Van Driesen isn’t, like, a pharmacist or a doctor, is he?”
Caitlyn shook her head. “No, he’s a property developer back in South Africa. Builds big tourist resorts and that sort of thing.”
Pomona sighed. “Well, I guess we’d better leave it to the police—they’ll figure it out eventually.”
“No,” said the Widow Mags, speaking up for the first time. “No, we cannot just leave it to the police. There is something… evil about these murders. Something motivated by more than just greed for money.”
“Yes,” Bertha agreed. “Yes, I feel like there is something very… intense and personal about these killings.”
“To escape an abusive husband would be very personal,” said Caitlyn softly.
Everyone turned scandalised eyes on her.
“You’re not suggesting that Amy Matthews might be the murderer?” gasped Bertha. “Why, the poor girl is a victim herself!”
“That doesn’t mean she can’t be a killer as well,” Caitlyn pointed out reluctantly. “She would have a really strong motive and the best opportunity. I mean, the autopsy report showed that Stan Matthews had chocolates in his stomach, right? And we know he had supper just before going to the pub. Well, who else other than his wife would have been in the best position to give him some chocolates laced with poison straight after dinner?”
“But where would she have got the poison from?” asked Pomona.
Caitlyn looked guiltily around. “I didn’t really want to mention this but… I found Amy in the stillroom this morning.”
“I told her to come and help herself from my stillroom whenever she likes,” growled the Widow Mags. “She was probably there to get something for her bruises. The poor child is covered in them.”
Caitlyn swallowed. “Yes, that’s what she said… but… when I saw her, she was reaching for a vial of belladonna.”
“Are you sure?” The Widow Mags gave her a hard look.
Caitlyn wanted to shrivel under that fierce gaze but she forced herself to meet the old woman’s eyes. “Yes. Amy dropped the vial and I picked it up. I read the label.”
“No! I can’t believe it!” said Bertha, sounding distressed. “I’m sure you’re wrong! Maybe she was looking for something else and took the wrong vial off the shelf by mistake. We’ve all done that, especially when it’s on a high shelf and you can’t see the labels very well.”
Caitlyn sighed. “I like Amy too and I don’t want to believe it could be her either. But you can’t eliminate someone as a suspect just because you like them. And… and you have to admit that she had the perfect motive and opportunity to poison Stan Matthews.”
“What about the reporter guy?” asked Pomona. “If you think Amy is the murderer, then she must have poisoned Rob Wiggins too.”
“She was standing very near him at the bar in the pub. And it was really crowded in there, with a lot of people moving around. It would have been really easy for her to sidle up to him and add a couple of drops of belladonna to his pint of beer when he wasn’t looking. In fact…” Caitlyn swallowed uncomfortably. “Maybe that’s why she was in the stillroom this morning. She was returning the vial of belladonna.”
“I still can’t believe that such a sweet, nice girl could be a murderer!” Bertha burst out. “What about Mr van Driesen? He was in the pub too.”
“Yes, you’re right. And he was standing next to Rob Wiggins when I saw him,” Caitlyn admitted. “So yes, he could have added the poison to Wiggins’s beer too. But where would he have got the poison? Like we said, he doesn’t have access to belladonna or atropine.”
“Aarggh, we’re going around in circles,” said Pomona in frustration. “I think—” Whatever she was going to say was lost in a huge yawn. “Oh, sorry! Excuse me,” she said, covering her mouth and looking sheepish.
Bertha smiled at her. “Don’t be—you’ve had a long day, what with all the driving and then manning the shop all day and cleaning it as well! No wonder you’re knackered!" She leaned forwards. “I hope you’re not planning to drive back to Oxford tonight? It’s nearly ten o’clock.”
“You know, I hadn’t thought about it,” said Pomona, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She gave another yawn. “Is there, like, a couch somewhere I could crash on for the night?”
“I’ve got something better than that,” said Bertha, smiling warmly. “We’ve got a spare bed in Evie’s room. It’s a bunk bed but it will be a lot more comfortable than a couch.”
“You can have the upper or the lower bunk—whichever you like,” offered Evie. “I’ll take the other one. I don’t mind.”
“Thanks. That’s really nice of you,” said Pomona.
“In fact,” said Evie eagerly, “I know of a spell which can grow your bed! We can try it when we get back. You�
��ll just have to lie in your bunk and I’ll turn it into a king-size luxury mattress around you and—”
“Er… I don’t think you want to try any more spells tonight,” said Caitlyn.
“Yeah,” Pomona agreed in an undertone. “I’ll probably end up turned into a hot dog and my bed into a bun… or worse!”
“Come on,” said Bertha, getting to her feet. “We’ll help clear up and then we’ll be on our way.”
***
Caitlyn opened her eyes and lay for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. The events of yesterday came rushing back to her, tumbling together like bits of coloured paper in a kaleidoscope: finding Amy in the stillroom… Rob Wiggins’s murder… the interview with Inspector Walsh… Angela and the exploding hot chocolate… laughing with James… Pomona arriving in Tillyhenge… the busy afternoon serving customers in the chocolate shop, followed by the crazy sweeping broom and the wonderful family dinner…
But one memory stood out, sharper than the others: Bertha looking at her solemnly and saying, “You’re a witch, Caitlyn… you’re one of us…”
Caitlyn sat up abruptly and slid out of bed. She walked over to the window and looked out. The sky was still a pale blue-grey. Dawn had barely broken. But she knew that she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now. She was too wide awake, too restless.
Washing and dressing quickly, Caitlyn tiptoed down the spiral staircase and let herself out the back door of the cottage. She breathed deeply as she stepped into the morning air. In the distance, she could hear birds twittering—the end of the dawn chorus—and everywhere was that fresh, clear feeling of a brand new day. A movement above her head made her glance up: she saw tiny dark shapes fluttering across the sky. They were too quick and small to be birds… bats, she realised. Heading home to roost now that the night was over. There must have been a bat colony that lived somewhere in the forest.
She would go for walk, Caitlyn decided. Up to the stone circle. She had wanted to visit it again and the exercise might help to get rid of some of her restlessness. There were two paths that led to the top of the hill: one on the open slope and a roughly parallel path that ran through the forest. She had taken the path on the open slope the first day—she decided to take the forest path now.
As she walked deeper and deeper into the woods, however, Caitlyn began to regret her decision. The morning light struggled to penetrate the canopy and there were deep shadows between the trees. Several times, she jumped and whirled at the sound of rustling or snapping twigs, only to remind herself that it was probably just some woodland creature scurrying through the undergrowth.
Then an extra-loud rustling, followed by a thump against the tree trunk right next to her, really made her jump out of her skin. Caitlyn peered through the bushes. She saw a small furry animal disentangle itself from the weeds and grasses at the base of the tree, then flop clumsily around.
It was a bat. Not one of those tiny pipistrelle bats that was usually seen flitting through the British night sky—no, this was a big bat, with a body covered in fuzzy light brown fur, a dark, pointy, fox-like face, and bright beady eyes. Caitlyn remembered seeing nature programmes about such creatures… Fruit bats, also known as flying foxes.
She wondered what it was doing here. From what she remembered, fruit bats usually lived in tropical countries and places like Australia… perhaps this one had escaped from a zoo? As she approached it cautiously, wondering if it was hurt, it flopped clumsily to the tree and began climbing upwards, using its claw hands as hooks. She watched it for a minute, then shrugged and returned to the path to continue on her way.
But she hadn’t taken many steps when she heard a familiar loud rustle and thump against another tree nearby and, when she turned to look, she couldn’t believe her eyes: it was the fruit bat again! Flopping clumsily around the base of another tree. In fact, it was making strange noises—if she didn’t know better, she would have almost thought that it sounded like it was grumbling in squeaks and snorts.
Weird.
She started walking again and, a few minutes later, when she heard the rustle and thump again, her suspicions were confirmed. The fruit bat was trying to follow her through the forest, although it seemed to be having a hard time, constantly crashing into trees as it flew amongst the branches. Caitlyn grinned. Maybe the phrase “blind as a bat” was truer than she thought.
Why would a fruit bat be following her, though? Caitlyn frowned, then sighed and gave a mental shrug. Just another of those strange things that had been happening ever since she came to Tillyhenge.
Putting on a burst of speed, she jogged along the path as it wound its way upwards, and soon left the bat behind. Finally, she burst out of the trees to find herself standing on the ridge at the very top of the hill, close to the stone circle. Panting and trying to catch her breath, Caitlyn walked slowly towards the sarsen boulders. She was just about to step inside the circle when she saw who was standing next to one of the stones.
It was Hans van Driesen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Good morning, Miss Le Fey,” he said.
“Er… Good morning,” said Caitlyn. She didn’t really want to join him but, with the friendly way he had greeted her, it would have been downright rude and unfriendly if she hadn’t.
“I didn’t realise you’re an early morning jogger?” he said, noting her shortness of breath.
“Oh… no, I was just… There was a bat in the forest and I was trying to get away from it,” said Caitlyn.
“A bat?” The big man’s face went pale. He glanced frantically around. “Where? Where?”
Caitlyn looked at him in surprise. “It’s probably still in the forest… Are you scared of bats?” she asked, trying not to laugh.
Van Driesen looked embarrassed, scuffing the ground with one boot. “Well…”
Caitlyn couldn’t believe it. The man was a big game hunter who could take on lions and rhinos but was scared of fuzzy little bats? Still, she knew there were people who were terrified of birds—it was a common phobia, right?—so maybe being scared of bats wasn’t that unexpected.
“Are you out for a walk?” he asked, obviously keen to change the subject.
Caitlyn nodded. “I woke up early and couldn’t sleep. You?”
“The same,” he said. “Besides, I’d been wanting to come back and have a look at the stone circle again.”
Again. Caitlyn remembered uneasily that he was the one who had discovered Stan Matthews’s body.
“They’re so fascinating, aren’t they?” he continued, gesturing to the circle of rocks around them. “There are so many myths and legends attached to these circles. For example, I’ve heard that on the dawn of the summer solstice, if you stand in a position where the tallest rock lines up with the shortest and watch the sun rising over the top of the circle, you will see a doorway open to the Otherworld.” He gave a laugh. “I just love these quaint old English legends, don’t you? Now, with this circle, the tallest rock would be that one. So if you were trying to line it up…”
He took a couple of steps to the side and leaned over, trying to get a better view. As he did so, something fell out of his front shirt pocket and rolled towards Caitlyn. She bent and picked it up. It was a small plastic cylinder, the kind that pharmacies and drug companies use to dispense pills and capsules. Her gaze sharpened as she saw the words on the label:
H. v Driesen
Cardiodarone - 20mg, daily.
Taken with food.
“Are these for you, Mr van Driesen?” she asked as she handed the cylinder back to him.
“Ah yes, those are my heart pills,” he said smoothly, reaching a hand to take them. “I’ve got a bit of a cardiac issue—my heart rate keeps slowing down—so my doctor prescribed those to keep things ticking along.”
He laughed heartily at his own pun. He had a deep, infectious belly-laugh and Caitlyn felt obliged to laugh politely along with him. Her mind, though, was racing. She remembered James telling her that atropine was found in m
edication to treat slow heart rates. Did this mean that van Driesen did have easy access to the poison which had killed both Stan Matthews and Rob Wiggins?
She thought of the vision she had seen in the chocolate cauldron… that figure walking next to Stan Matthews—could it have been Hans van Driesen? She wished fervently that she could have heard the voices more clearly…
“Is something the matter, Miss Le Fey?” he asked, coming closer to her.
“Um… no.” Caitlyn groped for something to say, backing away slightly. “I… I’m just surprised you’d want to come back here. I mean, since you discovered Stan Matthews’s body… You know, bad associations.”
Van Driesen came closer still. He indicated the stone to their right and said, lowering his voice, “I found him over there, you know. I had just walked up the crest of the hill and saw him almost immediately.”
“Um… it must have been a horrible shock.” Caitlyn tried to edge away from him.
“Well, it wasn’t a pretty sight,” he admitted. “Matthews’s body was all contorted and his hands were curled into claws. But I’d seen death many times before. When you bring a big beast down, you must be prepared that they will fight for their life. Sometimes you have to wait a long time… a long time while they thrash around in the throes of death…” He said it slowly, almost as if he was savouring the thought.
Caitlyn shivered. He was really giving her the creeps now. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that the stone circle was incredibly isolated, up here on the lonely ridge at the top of the hill. James Fitzroy’s words on the first day came back to her: “…you might want to be cautious about wandering to secluded places alone…”
Yes, they were very alone. There was nobody around—nobody to hear her scream.
Caitlyn started backing away again but she was brought up short by something hard pressing against her back. It was one of the boulders in the circle, she realised. She was wedged against it, unable to back away anymore, while in front of her, Hans van Driesen came closer still…
