by Morgana Best
I crossed to the door and opened it.
“Hi Amelia. Can I come in and speak to you?”
“We might as well cut to the chase and come straight to the point,” I said. “Are you here to kill me?”
Prudence laughed. “Oh Amelia, you’re too much.” She reached to pat me on my shoulder, but I jumped aside. My reflexes had certainly improved lately.
Prudence walked inside and I showed her into the living room ahead of me. “Take a seat over there,” I said.
“Are you going deaf or something?” she said.
“Excuse me, what was that?”
“Are you going deaf?” she yelled.
“No, why?” I yelled back.
“The television volume is up so high.”
I nodded. “There’s something wrong with it,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m used to it now.” I backed over to it and turned it down, all the time keeping my eye on Prudence.
“So what did you want to talk to me about, Prudence?” I stood beside the TV. If she made a lunge for me, I would duck behind the television and push it over on top of her. She was holding her car keys rather than a handbag and I wondered what was in her pockets.
“You know, when I saw you at the door, I called Ruprecht and told him you were here,” I said.
She seemed puzzled, but said, “Oh, I see.”
“Just in case something were to happen to me,” I explained. “He would know you were here with me.”
She bit her lip.
“What did you want to speak to me about?” I asked her again. “You can’t hug me, because I’m coming down with the flu and the doctor said I was highly contagious.”
She scratched her head. “Amelia, are you feeling all right?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve only just told you that I’m coming down with the flu.”
“I won’t take up much of your time. I wanted to come here to see how you were doing.”
“Good, good,” I said, nodding vigorously. “Oh, apart from the very contagious flu,” I said as an afterthought.
“I don’t want you to worry. When Alder’s released, we will have another lovely reception. A proper one, I mean. I won’t charge you for organising it, of course.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a grudge against Alder for any reason, would you?”
“No, of course not.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you say that?”
“I just wondered.”
She stood up. “I’m sorry to come when you’re sick. I just wanted to see how you were doing and tell you not to worry, that we’ll have another reception soon. It must all be a terrible worry for you.”
“It is,” I admitted. “Thanks for your kind thoughts.” I followed her to the door. As I reached for the door, she suddenly turned around and shoved something at me.
I grabbed the antique jardinière that sat on a nearby marble stand and smashed it out of her hand.
She screamed. The item flew across the floor.
I pushed her to the ground and jumped on her back, pinning her wrists behind her. “Give me something to tie her up with,” I called to the house. “I don’t have anything in reach.”
“Amelia, get off me,” Prudence screeched. “What on earth are you doing?”
“You tried to stab me,” I said. “Or stick a syringe of poison into me.” I pushed my knee harder into her back.
“No, I was giving you a rose quartz crystal as a gift,” she said.
I looked at the crystal that had fallen to the ground. Its pink tissue paper was lying next to it. Still, I wasn’t quite ready to trust her yet.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “I’ll release you now, but just in case there’s poison on that crystal, I want you to touch it all over. I want you to put it between your palms.”
Prudence stood up, dusted herself off, picked up the crystal and rubbed it between her palms. She handed it to me. “Amelia, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you’ve completely lost the plot. You need serious professional help, and fast.”
With that, she stomped out of the door.
“Thanks for visiting and thanks for the lovely crystal,” I called to her departing back.
When she was out of earshot, I said to the house, “I just don’t understand it. I was sure it was one of those people. Now where’s that pink tissue paper?”
I saw some of it sticking out from under the door. “Oh, it must’ve blown outside,” I said to myself. I opened the door, but before I could pick it up, I looked straight into the face of Damon Stark.
Chapter 25
I had never noticed how menacing Damon was before. There was a threatening air about him. I gasped and stepped backwards.
He took the opportunity to push past me. “I hope you don’t mind me coming in?”
This was it. He was the last of the suspects, and unless Maeve intended to come back and do me in, Damon had to be the murderer.
Damon walked into the living room, but made no attempt to sit on a sofa. “I have something for you,” he said.
I folded my arms over my chest. “I bet you do.”
“It’s in this box.” He was holding a small shoebox, and he bent down to take off the cardboard lid. I expected he brought that so any onlooking neighbour would think it was an innocent package.
I threw the nearest cushion at his head and sprinted for the door. He jumped up and caught my arm. “Why did you do that?”
“Because you’re going to kill me with whatever is in that box,” I said.
He released my arm and scratched his forehead. “You know, Ruprecht’s been acting strangely lately too. Have you guys done a spell that’s gone wrong?”
“Most likely,” I said, “but what’s that got to do with anything?”
He reached into the box once more and I backed away. This time, he pulled out something that looked like a gourd.
“It’s a cucurbit for Ruprecht,” he said. “My mother sent it along for him, but I went to Ruprecht’s shop and it was shut. I have to go to Sydney for a week on business. I need to leave straight away so I was hoping you could give it to him.”
“Is there a bomb in it or something?” I asked him.
He looked at me but did not say a word. Finally, he said, “No. I told you it’s a cucurbit, not a bomb. Besides, Ruprecht doesn’t collect weapons, does he?”
“Not as far as I know,” I told him, “although nothing Ruprecht does would surprise me. Ruprecht is working in my shop at the moment because this was supposed to be my honeymoon.”
Damon nodded slowly. “Yes, I’m sorry about that. I hope they release Alder soon.”
“Do you really?” I asked him.
“Yes, of course. Why would you ask?”
“Because someone murdered Bertha Bunyons and tried to pin the murder on Alder,” I said. “I know you had a grudge against Bertha after the terrible things she did to your mother, but we had a tea leaf reading last night, and Mystical Maria said that the murderer killed Bertha simply to frame Alder.”
He held up both hands, palms outwards. “I can assure you, the murder has nothing to do with me, and I don’t have a single problem with Alder. Did you really think I was the murderer?” He took a step towards me.
I backed up against the television, which suddenly turned on loudly, making me jump forward.
“I’ll bet that woman would be happy she died just to spite Alder,” Damon said. “Why don’t you do a spell to reveal the murderer?”
“I just did,” I said with exasperation. “I did one just before you all showed up.”
“What are you talking about?” Damon asked me.
I sighed and sat down on the nearest chair. “I might as well level with you. The only suspects I’ve got are Yarrow Larkspur, Maeve McKenzie and her ex-boyfriend Bradley Wilson, Prudence Pringle, and you. The only one who hasn’t turned up yet is Bradley Wilson.”
“It can’t be any of us,” Damon said. “It must be someone else
.”
“But there is no one else,” I lamented. “The murderer really does have to be one of you. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
The house turned up the television loudly. “What’s wrong with your TV?” Damon asked me.
“Quite a lot,” I said. “I’ve been watching Agatha Christie movies to try to help me solve the murder.”
“Well, if you could give this cucurbit to Ruprecht next time you see him, I’ll be on my way. I hope things work out for you, Amelia.”
With that, he hurried to the door. Maybe he thought I was going to throw another cushion at him.
“Isn’t someone trying to kill me?” I asked Willow and Hawthorn. I was almost disappointed.
I walked back to the TV. It was blaring loudly again, so I turned it down. “I’ve done a spell to bring the murderer to light in a hurry,” I said to the house. “I’ll just have to watch this movie.”
The house turned the volume up, but to a comfortable level for once. I watched the entire film of Wasp’s Nest from beginning to end.
At the very end, I jumped to my feet. “I’ve had a Jessica Fletcher moment!” I cried. “Thank you, Grandmother! Now the only problem is that it’s going to be awfully hard to prove.”
“I’m coming to collect you. Be ready!” I screeched down the phone to Thyme. “I know who killed Bertha and framed Alder!” I filled her in on my suspicions.
“Where are we going?” Thyme asked soon as she climbed into my car.
“You know that Bertha lived in Sydney, but she came to Bayberry Creek on occasion over the years?”
Thyme nodded. “Everyone knows that now.”
“I made some calls to the local real estate agents, and while her house isn’t up for sale, I found out the address,” I said. “That’s where we’re going now.”
“You think there will be evidence at the house?”
“I hope so,” I said. “I did a spell for the truth to come to light. Each one of the suspects came to me in turn and then I realised who did it. I’m hoping the spell will lead us to the evidence.”
“I hope you’re right.” Thyme’s tone held more than a measure of doubt, but my hopes remained high.
We finally came to the cottage fifteen kilometres out of town.
“I didn’t realise it was a farm,” Thyme said. “Maybe I knew and I forgot.”
I nodded. “It’s a farm, and you know what that means?”
“Sheep, wheat?” Thyme said. “A long drive for good coffee? I really have no idea.”
“You know what’s kept in old barns?”
Thyme’s face brightened. “Of course! Old now-illegal deadly poisons and old now-illegal deadly farm chemicals!”
“I found Bertha leases this out to a stockman for his horses,” I said.
“Well, if there was ever any Thall-rat in the barn, it wouldn’t be there now,” Thyme pointed out.
“Let’s keep an open mind and see what we can find. I’m sure the spell will lead us to the truth.”
Thyme shot me a doubtful look.
We drove down the short driveway and parked under a spreading eucalyptus tree. There was a faded white ute there with a red cattle dog tied in the back.
“Let’s go and see who it is.” I led the way past the barking dog, and through the open front door saw a tall, lanky man inside the house.
“Hello,” I called out.
The man walked over to us, his expression friendly. “I’m Jack Hill,” he said, extending his hand.
“I’m Amelia, and this is my friend, Thyme,” I said. “We weren’t expecting to see anyone at Bertha’s house.”
“Bertha left the little farm and its contents to me in her will,” he said. “I’ve rented this farm from her for years—just the land, mind you, as she used to stay in the house on occasion. She hasn’t for years, though. Are you relatives of hers or something?”
I suspected he thought we were relatives who would try to make a claim on the will, so I hurried to reassure him. “No. She was my husband’s great aunt, but she hated him,” I said. “Don’t worry, he won’t want anything of hers in the will.”
Jack emitted a nervous laugh. “I feel bad about accepting it, as we didn’t get on too well. Nothing unpleasant, mind you. We weren’t the same sort of people. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”
“Not at all,” I said. “I don’t know anyone who did get on with her, to be honest.” I looked around the room. It was overcrowded with Edwardian furniture. It didn’t seem to have been dusted in years. The unmistakable smell of mould hung on the air.
“I’m packing up all these boxes to take to the Salvation Army, but if you want anything, please feel free to take it. I’m not keeping any of it.”
“We don’t want any of it,” I said in a hurry. It was all entirely depressing, from the heavy black varnished sideboards to the framed embroidered works with Bible verses such as ‘The wages of sin is death’ complete with embroidered roses under it, and another one, ‘Fear Him who is able to destroy both body and soul in hell.’ This framed picture was decorated with lily of the valley embroidery.
“Maybe someone will like this stuff,” I told him.
“I don’t know how I’ll get through all this,” he complained. “I really need to pack it into boxes. I can’t expect them to come and collect everything unless it’s in some sort of order.”
“Do you mind if we have a look around?” I asked him.
“No, of course not,” he said and stuck his head in a box.
I grabbed Thyme and hurried into what appeared to be Bertha’s bedroom. “Open a window; I can scarcely breathe,” Thyme said.
I hurried over to the old sash window. “It won’t budge. It probably hasn’t been open in centuries,” I said with a laugh.
“What are we looking for?” Thyme asked me.
“Anything that’s a clue of course,” I said. “Look under the bed for boxes.”
I couldn’t find anything personal of Bertha’s, only an old, black, leather bound King James Bible. I opened it and shook it to see if any papers would fall out.
“Maybe she’s underlined stuff and that will give you a clue,” Thyme said.
I sat on the bed with the heavy Bible on my lap and thumbed through it. Only a few passages were underlined. I read them aloud. There were all about punishment of sinners.
“I don’t think that’s much help,” Thyme said.
“I was so excited before, but now I think this was just a wild goose chase,” I told her. “Maybe we should look in the other rooms.”
“And then we should look in the barn as well,” Thyme said.
As we walked back into the living room, Jack walked over to us holding a large envelope. “Would you to mind doing me a huge favour?” he said.
“No,” I said just as Thyme asked, “What is it?”
“Bertha said if anything were to happen to her, I had to send this envelope to her lawyer. The thing is, it’s not stamped, and I wasn’t planning to go into town for a while. If I give you some money, would you mind posting it?”
“No need to give us any money at all,” I said. “It will be our pleasure.”
“It’s not urgent,” he said. “It’s just to her lawyer. I completely forgot to take it to Sydney the other day when I flew there for the reading of the will. I told the lawyer about it and he said it wasn’t urgent. He had spoken to her recently and she hadn’t mentioned it. Still, I feel bad that I haven’t posted it yet.”
“We’ll do it now,” I said. “Thanks for your help. Goodbye.”
I grabbed Thyme by the arm and hurried to the car.
“We haven’t had a good look around, and we didn’t look in the barn,” Thyme protested.
I drove off down the dirt road. “Never mind that. We’re going to read this letter.”
“Isn’t that a federal offence or something?” Thyme said.
“Only if we’re caught. We’ll take it home and steam it open, read it, and then glue the envelope back t
ogether. Even if we don’t do a good job, who’s going to accuse us of steaming it open?”
“Good idea,” Thyme said.
I could hardly wait to get home. I hurried into the kitchen, did a double take at the new surroundings once more, and boiled the jug. The glue on the envelope seemed to take forever before part of it peeled off. “Hold it over the steam again,” I instructed Thyme.
Finally, we were able to open it, although I did inadvertently tear a bit at the corner. “Never mind that,” I said. “Let’s read it.”
We both read the letter and gasped.
“This letter is to be read precisely fifty years after the date of my death.
I, Bertha Bunyons, being seriously ill and about to depart this life, decided to self-inflict poison for the sole purpose of implicating my evil nephew, Alder Vervain.
Witches never prosper. As the good book says, ‘Suffer not a witch to live,’ and therefore Alder Vervain should not be allowed to live. Sadly, there is no longer capital punishment in this country, so I hope he has spent the last 50 years incarcerated.
It gave me greater pleasure to do this on his wedding day as he was no doubt marrying another evil witch.
I am not the slightest bit guilty for inflicting this lethal poison upon myself because it has brought about the ruin of at least one evil man.”
Chapter 26
I was sitting on the sofa next to Alder. His arms were around me tightly and I snuggled into him. “Good work, all of you,” he said, “especially you, Amelia.”
I tightened my grip on him. “The house tipped me off. Remember how she played Wasp’s Nest over and over again? I watched it all, and it’s about a man with a terminal illness who intended to kill himself solely to frame someone he didn’t like for what would appear to be his murder.”
Thyme nodded. “I’m so relieved the police believed the letter.”
“How could they not?” Camino said. “Still, I am surprised they believed the letter fell out of the envelope when you were on your way to post it, but all’s well that ends well.”
