Murder & Macarons

by Amy Casey

And that something was the news that Andy Carter had been murdered there last night.

  I felt my thighs straining as I got higher up the hill. A reminder that I really, really needed to go on a few jogs with Mary sometime. I thought about Andy Carter, the kind of man he was. Pretty much a phoney charmer, in all truth. He came in Witchy Delights a lot and acted a bit of a letch with the staff—generally over Annabelle, the youngest member of our team. He had this kind of superficial charm that crossed the line of creepiness, in all truth.

  But again. Our job at Witchy Delights was to smile and serve. And although Andy Carter was generally known to everyone as a pretty bad egg, he was always relatively polite. And he never exactly broke any rules.

  So we smiled and we served him and we moaned about him when he was out of earshot.

  The further up the hill I got, the more I started to speculate already about who might be behind the murder. But then it struck me that there was a real chance that Andy Carter could’ve upset pretty much anybody. I mean, even I wanted to bash his head in sometimes when he kept his hand on Annabelle’s a bit too long across the counter.

  And there were all the people at the wedding, too. Some of them of whom I knew. Some who I didn’t.

  There were a whole host of people who could’ve been upset by Andy. And there was no doubt a whole host of people from outside of Goosridge who Andy could’ve upset, too.

  But one thing was for sure.

  He’d been murdered inside Graveson Manor. He’d been killed attending the wedding.

  Which limited the potential list of murderers.

  I reached the front of Graveson Manor and my worst fears were already confirmed.

  Police tape surrounded the place. Police cars were everywhere.

  And standing right in front of the police tape, staring at me, was DI Steve Burke.

  Just to clarify, Steve Burke and I don’t have anything going on, no matter what Mary might say or what Annabelle might hint at.

  You’ve got that, right?

  Right?

  “Stella Storm,” he said, in a voice that he’d probably heard on television programmes. “What brings you here?”

  “Oh, you know,” I said, flicking back my hair. “Just thought it’d be nice to walk Rocky up here for a change.”

  “Your dog isn’t with you.”

  I looked to my side. Flushed. Shit. Good point. “Umm, yeah. About that…”

  “You being here would have nothing to do with the death of Andy Carter at all now, would it?”

  I tried to look surprised, but also nonplussed. “Andy Carter’s dead?”

  “Don’t pull that one with me, Stella. I remember how you were during the Krissy Palmer murder.”

  “Then you’ll remember who it was who solved that thing before more people died,” I muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  We stood there for a while. And it was clear we were at an impasse. I could try using my abilities… but again, I was weak. They were limited.

  And I figured somehow, if I was to get involved in solving this case, I might need all the magic energy I could get over the coming days.

  “You need to head away from here,” Steve said. “It’s a crime scene.”

  “The tape starts there. I’m not impeding or anything.”

  “Stella…”

  “Okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “Okay. It’s been nice seeing you, anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Steve mumbled, looking down at his feet. “Yeah, you too.”

  I waited for him to ask something. To show his interest in some obvious way.

  But then he turned away and headed towards Graveson Manor.

  I looked up at the manor and I took a deep breath. Because as much as Steve wanted me to stay away, I knew the truth.

  Someone at that wedding last night had killed Andy Carter.

  Someone there had murdered him.

  And it didn’t matter if Andy Carter was the biggest shit to walk through these manor doors in an eternity.

  I was going to find out who had killed him.

  And I wasn’t going to stop until I had.

  Chapter 4

  The stick. The damned stick. Throw it for me. Just… Yeah. That’s right. That’s right! Lift it. Throw it. Throw…”

  The second I threw the stick, Rocky went flying off into the distance. If I had a little magic energy under my belt, I’d make sure I threw it extra far so I could have a little break from stick-throwing duties for just a while longer.

  Mary chuckled as we walked together through the park. “Daft dog,” she said.

  “Trust me,” I said. “You should hear what he’s actually saying. It’d give the whole ‘daft dog’ thing new meaning.”

  It was late afternoon. The pair of us were off, with Annabelle running Witchy Delights all by herself. She’d moan about it. Of course she would. Hell, I’d probably moan if I was left with a duty like that.

  But again. She was the one working for me. And I paid well. She couldn’t exactly complain too much.

  There was a silence between us as we walked. I knew why that was. The elephant in the room that was the murder of Andy Carter. I was waiting for one of us to mention it, to bring it up. I just didn’t really want to be the one to do so.

  It was Mary who eventually cleared her throat and broke the silence.

  “Crazy about Andy, isn’t it?”

  I narrowed my eyes, like I didn’t even know what she was talking about.

  She shook her head, snorted. “Stella. I’ve spent long enough as your best friend to know when you’re not being completely straight about something. What’s bothering you?”

  I sighed as we walked further through the park. Up ahead, I could see Rocky bounding back towards us. I knew my time of peace was limited. “Just what happened. Takes me back, you know?”

  Mary nodded. There was a glassiness to her eyes. A glassiness like she knew exactly what I was referring to, but at the same time didn’t really want to be reminded, because reminding her was like awakening some kind of demon; some kind of dark, dangerous force that she didn’t want to look in the eye again. “I know what you mean. It’s a year, isn’t it?”

  I nodded in return. “Just over. Mad how quickly time goes.”

  “Okay,” Rocky said, dropping the stick at my feet, panting like mad, tongue dangling and swaying everywhere. “I know I said last time was the last time, but please. Just one more throw. One more damned throw then I’ll be the happiest dog in Goosridge.”

  I rolled my eyes, picked up the stick. “One condition,” I said.

  Rocky’s eyes lit up. “Anything.”

  “You learn to pick your own poo up.”

  He frowned—if a dog could frown, anyway. I could see the confusion on his face. The sense that what I’d suggested to him was forbidden and breached some kind of doggy-human code.

  “Just kidding,” I said, slinging the stick as far as I could. “I mean… seriously just kidding. Don’t come back here with poop all over your paws.”

  He went bounding off into the distance again.

  “What was that about picking poo up?” Mary asked.

  I smirked. “Don’t worry yourself about that.”

  We walked a little further. Rocky came back a few times, asked for the stick to be thrown again. And even though I was here walking, I didn’t feel like I was particularly present. I felt like I was up at Graveson Manor, inspecting Andy Carter’s body, figuring out who was responsible for his death.

  “Any evidence that this is… like… supernatural?” Mary said.

  I frowned. “What is?”

  “Andy’s murder. Is there any evidence of supernatural involvement?”

  It was strange, hearing Mary ask questions like this. Questions as if she was genuinely curious—and not just scared. Scared of what the truth may be. Scared that what happened twelve months ago might be rearing its head all over again.

  I cleared my throat, walke
d a little further. “Not that I know of.”

  “Then there’s no reason for you to get involved.”

  I stopped. Mary stopped too. Both of us stood there, looking at each other. As if this was what the silence had been building to between us. This was the elephant in the room; only it was stomping around angrily now, making a real racket.

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “I know what your game is, Stella. I know that… that since what happened to Krissy Palmer, you’ve been waiting for an opportunity to sink your teeth into another mystery. But this isn’t yours to solve. Andy, he’s a shit. Plenty of people have good reason to murder him.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s a murder that doesn’t need solving,” I said.

  “Maybe not,” Mary said. “That’s what the police are for. That’s what—”

  “Steve’s for. Okay. I get it.”

  “I wasn’t even going to mention Steve.”

  “Right. Sure you weren’t.”

  “It was you who brought Steve up. Is Steve on your mind, Stella?”

  I opened my mouth to argue back at Mary. But in the end, I decided not to take the bait. I started walking again, as too did Mary, by my side.

  “Stella, I don’t like doing this. I don’t like being the mother hen who looks out for you when you’re flying too close to the sun.”

  “That sounds exactly like what you’re doing.”

  “But if I can remind you… the last time you got yourself involved in a mystery, I almost died.”

  There was a silence after Mary spoke those words. A silence that felt like it followed words that had been coming for a long, long time.

  I slowed. Looked right at Mary again. “What do you mean by that?”

  Mary looked down at the ground. “Nothing. Just me being stupid. Ignore it.”

  “No, I want you to finish what you’re saying.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me—”

  “I just think if you get yourself involved in some other mystery, magic or not, you’re putting yourself and everyone else in danger again.”

  I felt shot down. Wounded. Guilty.

  “Andy Carter might not be involved with magic. Or perhaps he is. It doesn’t matter either way. He’s bad news, as are tons of people he’s been involved in. You don’t have to be supernatural to be a threat, Stella. Just… just remember that before you go charging in, like you do.”

  Mary looked at her watch.

  “Anyway. I should probably get going. Pilates at five.”

  She walked off without even looking at me again, without even saying goodbye.

  “Mary?” I called.

  She turned around. Looked over her shoulder.

  “I’m…”

  I didn’t finish what I was going to say. I couldn’t.

  And Mary nodded and just kept on walking.

  I stood there for a few seconds, at a crossroads of what to do, of where to go next.

  And then I heard panting by my side.

  Rocky sat there, puppy dog eyes, stick at my feet.

  “Just once more?” he said.

  I couldn’t help sighing when I saw the piece of poo stuck to the top of his paw.

  Chapter 5

  They looked at Graveson Manor behind all that police tape and they knew damn well what they were about to do could land them in a hell of a lot of trouble.

  But equally, they knew that if they didn’t go in there, if they didn’t do what they had to do, they’d end up in even more bother.

  Potentially life-threatening bother.

  It was late at night. Always an eerie time of day, especially up here, out in the middle of nowhere. Because although Graveson Manor looked over the town of Goosridge; although the lights of other small towns were visible in the distance, up here you were very much alone.

  But despite the eeriness, that was exactly how they wanted it right now. It was exactly how they needed it.

  They made sure they had their jacket zipped right up over their face. Made sure nothing about themselves was clearly visible—race, gender, anything like that.

  And then they took a deep breath as they stared at that police tape, and at Graveson Manor beyond.

  They’d be caught on CCTV. They knew already that they were putting themselves in the spotlight. Graveson Manor was riddled with digital security, so hoping to avoid being seen was a losing battle.

  But as long as they kept themselves disguised, as long as they didn’t draw too much attention to themselves… that would be enough.

  Hopefully.

  They walked over to the police tape, heart racing, chest getting tighter and tighter. Always the way when they got nervous. They’d been to the doctors about it in the past. Been prescribed beta blockers, things like that.

  But in the end, nature was nature. Nothing could control the inevitable. Nothing could change the truth.

  They walked right up to the door of Graveson Manor. They were well aware that it was closed and that the place had been emptied of guests and staff. So for that reason, it would be locked.

  Good job they had the key code to get in, then.

  They entered the long, eight-digit security code, which they’d embedded to memory. It was a code that changed every week, usually. But today was different. Today might be a Monday, but Graveson Manor had been put on hold after what’d happened.

  So they just had to hope last week’s security code still worked.

  If it didn’t… well, the alarms would go off, and they’d be in big, big trouble.

  But again. It was a risk that had to be taken.

  The alternative was far, far scarier.

  They steadied their breathing. Readied themselves. Because if this went right, the consequences were big. If it went wrong… they were even bigger.

  So they entered the eight digits. Slowly. Surely.

  Eight.

  Seven.

  Nine.

  Zero.

  Zero.

  Eight.

  Four…

  A block. A mental block. Was it five or was it six?

  Think. Think.

  Their hand started shaking. Their heart pounded even more. And the more het up they got, the more they started second-guessing themselves.

  Maybe it was neither a five nor a six.

  Maybe it was a three.

  Or a two.

  Or a—

  No.

  It was six.

  It had to be six.

  They hovered their finger over the six. Waited for the alarms to sound. Waited for everything to come crashing down, falling apart.

  “Here goes nothing,” they muttered.

  Then they hit the six and their body froze.

  There was no alarm.

  There was no great fanfare.

  Just a small flash of green light, a little buzz and then a click.

  The door unlocked.

  Graveson Manor was open.

  They let go of the breath they’d been holding. Put their hands on their knees and almost puked. But no. That would be reckless. That would be leaving DNA traces here.

  They had to go in there.

  They had to get this done.

  The second they stepped inside, they were struck by just how eerie this place was when it was empty. The big deer heads dangling from the walls, their black eyes staring into your soul. The ancient art, so detached from contemporary living.

  But the spookiest thing of all, as they made their way to the stairs, was the fact that the wedding still hadn’t been cleared up.

  The cake sat half-eaten on the end of a large table.

  Chairs were left crooked, as if people were going to come back and return to them.

  The neon glow of the disco lights went on, even though the music had stopped.

  They swallowed a lump in their throat. They couldn’t afford to dwell on anything. In and out, that’s what this was. That’s what this had to be.

  They made their
way up the stairs. Every step creaked underfoot. And the further up they got, the more they started to wonder if perhaps they weren’t alone in here after all. If maybe someone else was in here too, and what that would mean for them.

  They looked down in their pocket as they approached the room.

  Saw the glint of the knife.

  Because they were clear.

  If anyone crossed them, they’d kill them.

  They’d bury them in order to protect their secret.

  They didn’t care who it was who stood in their way.

  Some things were more important than blind sentimentality.

  They reached the room and they looked inside.

  The body had been moved. There were evidence tags all around the room. Although they knew deep down that they wouldn’t lead to them. They wouldn’t lead anywhere of real meaning.

  Because the real evidence had nothing beside it.

  They walked over to it. Reached down. Picked it up.

  And as they looked at it, they couldn’t help smiling.

  Their secret was going to remain a secret. It was always going to remain a secret. Nothing was going to change that. And more importantly, nothing was going to get in their way. No one was going to get in their way.

  They took a deep breath.

  Picked up the item they’d left in here, rather foolishly—but that was forgivable considering the circumstances.

  Then they forced a smile as their heartbeat grew steadier.

  It was time to bury this investigation.

  It was time to end things—before they even began.

  Chapter 6

  I sat at home, Rocky and Beatrice battling for space on my lap, and tried my best not to let my mind wander to…

  Okay. Thanks. My mind’s wandered to it now. Great job keeping me distracted.

  It was late at night. The wind was strong again, rattling against my windows. Even though it was spring, it certainly still felt like winter. Then again, didn’t it always feel like winter in Britain these days? Just part and parcel of living in a place like this, I guessed.

  I crunched down on a Dorito. Rocky was staying remarkably quiet considering I was eating. But whenever I looked down at him, I saw his eyes were tracing every move of the Dorito, trying to figure out whether he could make a move for them or not. I didn’t want to tell him he could overpower me if he wanted to. He had a tougher jaw than I did, and he could really rule the roost if he put his mind and energy to it.