by Sam Short
"You'd tell us if something was wrong, wouldn't you?" I said.
Granny leaned forward in her seat. "Penelope, you've known me for twenty-three years. When have I ever lied to — ”
A huge crashing sound from the kitchen made Granny jump, cutting off her sentence.
"What on earth was that?" said Willow. "Is someone here?"
"Nothing happened here last night!" sobbed Granny, rocking in her seat with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. "Nothing happened here last night!"
"I'm having a look in the kitchen, Granny," I said. "I don't care what you say."
"She can't hear you," Willow said. "She looks like one of those Vietnam veterans. You know, with the thousand-yard stare?"
I waved a hand in front of Granny's glazed eyes, but she didn't blink. "Nothing happened here last night," she mumbled, squeezing herself tighter.
"She's okay," I said. "She's just shut down for a while, like the time she discovered that the wrestling on TV was staged. She'll be fine in a few minutes."
Another loud bang from the kitchen drew our attention, and I followed Willow as she made her way down the hallway. She paused as she reached the kitchen door. "Do you think it's safe to go in?"
"It's not an intruder, otherwise Granny wouldn't have been trying to hide something. Go on, open the door."
Willow opened the door slowly, and we stared at the sight before us in disbelief. "Oh heavens," whispered Willow. "What's she done now?"
Chapter Seven
Boris the goat turned towards us as we entered the kitchen. He lowered his front hooves from the kitchen counter on which he'd been trying to tear open a packet of biscuits, and tilted his head. Pots and pans surrounded him, and another one fell from one of the open cupboards behind him. "Baa?" he said.
"Pardon?" I said, squeezing Willow's hand which she'd placed in mine.
"Maa?" he said.
"He sounds like a man." whispered Willow.
"Hello, Boris," I said, releasing Willow's hand, and taking a step towards the goat. "What are you doing in Granny's kitchen?"
Boris looked around at the mess he'd made. "Bleat?"
"Oh my goddess!" shrieked Willow. "Look at the pantry!"
The pantry door was ajar, and I took a step back as I followed Willow's frightened gaze. A man's hand hung from the gap, and the toe of a shoe prevented the door from closing fully. "Get a knife!" I said. "I'll phone the police!"
I fumbled for my phone as Willow opened a drawer and grabbed a large carving knife, which she held in front of her with both hands. "Quick," she said. "Phone someone!"
Boris took a step towards us and coughed. "There's no need for police involvement, young ladies," he said in a well-spoken upper class English accent. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Charleston Huang, certified member of The British Acupuncture Accreditation Board. You're perfectly safe. The man in the cupboard is me... well, to be more precise, it's the mind of this perfectly lovely creature, in my body."
"What is going on?" whispered Willow, dropping the knife a fraction. "Boris is talking to us."
Boris cleared his throat. "I could attempt to explain the not unwelcome predicament I find myself in, but I feel that Gladys would be best placed to enlighten you."
"Gladys? Granny lets you call her Gladys?" said Willow. "Only her enemies call her Gladys, and her very good friends."
"I'm certainly not the former," said Boris. "It would be a privilege, however, to be considered the latter." Boris gazed between his front legs, attempting to look beneath his body. A bald patch above his tail was the only evidence that he'd recently been attacked by an enchanted lawnmower. "Tell me, young ladies," he said, attempting to crane his neck further under his belly. "Do I need milking?"
"No," said Willow. "You're male."
The goat lowered his voice. "Splendid. Although Gladys is a remarkable woman, I really wouldn't have felt comfortable with her interfering with me in that way."
Footsteps sounded behind us. "So, you've discovered my awful secret," said Granny. "I knew it would only be a matter of time before you pesky kids found me out."
"In all fairness, Gladys," said Boris. "The incident only happened last night. It can hardly be referred to as a matter of time. It's barely been twelve hours."
"True dat," said Granny, raising a smile from Willow even as she held a knife defensively in front of her. Granny really had to stop reading Willow's books.
"Drop the weapon, Willow," said Granny. "I'll make us all a nice cup of tea and –"
"I'm not a big fan of tea, Gladys," said Boris. "Maybe a saucer full of that delightful brandy you gave me last night."
"You gave brandy to a goat?" I said.
"He was still in his human body," said Granny. "Anyway, brandy won't harm him now. He's protected by magic. He can drink brandy all day long if he likes."
"That makes my situation sound all the more acceptable," said Boris.
"You like being a goat, Charleston?" said Willow, placing the knife back in the drawer and filling the kettle.
"It's the calmest I've felt for a long time, and please, call me Boris. If I'm to occupy this grand old beast's body, the least I can do is honour his name."
"What about actual Boris though?" I said. "Is he happy in your body? And why on earth is he just standing in the cupboard, is he traumatised?"
Granny opened the brandy and poured a generous glug into a saucer, laying it on the floor in front of Boris. "He's in a form of stasis. He's oblivious to what's going on and he can't move. No harm will come to him, and neither he or the goat will age until I can sort this terrible mess out."
"For the record," said Boris. "I don't consider this a mess. Life has been getting to me recently. I have no loved ones to go home to, and the relief I felt when Gladys texted all my customers to cancel their acupuncture appointments was wholly liberating. I'm perfectly content with the surprising direction my life has taken."
Willow took a few tentative steps towards the pantry. "Can I have a look?" she said.
"I have no objections," said Boris, "but please excuse the look on my body's face. It was quite the shock to be on the receiving end of magic, although I've long believed that witches were real. Tell me, are you two young ladies witches too?"
"They try to be," said Granny.
"We are," said Willow, opening the pantry door.
I joined Willow and studied the man in the cupboard. He was thin and nearing sixty, I guessed, and obviously of Chinese heritage. His eyes were wide open, and his mouth formed a perfect o shape. He certainly seemed shocked.
"He can't stay in there until your dementia gets better, Granny," I said. "For a start, I can't reach the cakes, he's blocking the shelves."
"And he'll smell of spices," said Willow.
"You two can help me drag him upstairs before you leave. We'll put him in the guest bed." She looked at Boris who was happily lapping up brandy. "If you have no objections, Boris?"
Boris licked his lips. "I'm sure the guest bed will be the perfect place for my body to rest. I have no objections. I only wish I could help you carry me up the stairs."
I took a step out of the kitchen to gather my thoughts and send a text to Barney, listing as much of Granny's information as I could recall, remembering to tell him about the lawyer. When I re-entered the room, Willow was sitting at the table with Granny, and a cup of tea was waiting for me. They'd cleared away most of the mess Boris had made, and Granny was beginning to explain the previous night's occurrences.
"But how exactly did it happen?" asked Willow.
"Charleston, sorry Boris," Granny said, smiling at the goat, "did wonders for my back. The needles didn't help my magic, but I feel twenty years younger."
Boris agreed. "She's been chopping wood since two o'clock in the morning."
"Why?" I said, sitting down.
"To hide his car under," Granny beamed. "It's in the lean to. You two didn't see it, did you? So, all that chopping was worth it."
"Don't bl
ame your grandmother for what happened," said Boris. "I offered to relieve the goat's suffering."
"What?" said Willow.
"Boris was limping a little... after the lawnmower incident," said Granny. "Charlest — Boris, offered to help him with acupuncture. I didn't know there was residual magic from the mower left in the goat. It arced with the needles, and they swapped places."
Boris nodded, brandy dripping from the long white hairs beneath his chin. "And when Gladys tried to return us to our rightful bodies, which was quite the task — I've never seem my body move so fast, or eat grass — something happened which froze my body."
"Dementia," mumbled Granny, wiping her eyes. "And now they're stuck until I get better."
Boris laid a hoof on Granny's back, patting her gently. "There, there, Gladys. There's an old Chinese proverb — coming events cast their shadow before them — I knew there was something magical about you, I've always been very spiritual, you see, but I insisted on treating you and this goat. It's my fault as much as yours."
"Thank you, Boris," said Granny, patting the goats head. "That means a lot to me."
"Excuse me for saying, Boris," said Willow, "but you don't sound very Chinese."
"Willow!" snapped Granny, "you can't say things like that — it's racist!"
Boris chuckled. "Nonsense," he said. "It's a perfectly acceptable question, Gladys, and one I'd be happy to answer. My parents never left Britain, and I've only stepped foot in China once. I went to see the great wall, to please my grandfather. It was an underwhelming experience, and the Chinese Chinese food was very disappointing. I'm from a wealthy family, and benefitted from an Oxford education. I've led a privileged life, and it seems that life has still more surprises planned for me."
"A wise old goat," said Granny. She slammed her hand down on the table. "And don't you two go saying anything about this to that daughter of mine," she warned. "Or my wrath will be swift and fearsome."
"I agree with Gladys," said Boris, "although watching her sobbing in the garden last night casts some doubt on her claims of fearsomeness. I'm happy as I am, young ladies. Let's keep it between the four of us and my body. I'm more than happy to live as I am and play the part of a garden goat whenever you have visitors, Gladys. It will be quite invigorating."
My phone beeped. It was a message from Susie.
Poor Sam. Meet me when you can. I'll tell you what's happened x
I replied.
Meet us at Mum's cottage. We're on our way x
"We need to go, Granny." I said, showing Willow the message. "Come on, let's get Charleston up the stairs."
Boris tapped the floor with his hoof. "Would somebody be so kind as to top my saucer up with brandy, and pass me one or two biscuits before you begin the job of hiding my body?"
Chapter Eight
Willow picked at her torn fingernail. "He didn't look like he'd be that heavy."
"At least he's safe, and tucked up under that duvet he'll be fine until Granny can switch them back," I said.
Susie's car was already outside Mum's house when we arrived. Nobody was downstairs, but Susie's and Mum's voices were coming from upstairs.
"Hello!" I shouted. "We're here." Susie came running down the stairs. "What were you doing up there?" I said.
"I was telling her about Sam, and looking through the telescope with her. She's worried about Granny, and I don't blame her. We just saw her going for a walk into the woods with Boris, and the goat looked wobbly on his feet — almost like he was drunk. Is everything okay over there?"
We sat at the kitchen table and quickly told Susie what had happened.
"Don't tell Mum," warned Willow, as Susie rocked with laughter. "Boris and Granny are happy, and Mum already thinks Granny's got a problem with animal cruelty. There's the thing with Mabel, the chicken laying ostrich eggs, Boris and the lawnmower, and now this."
Susie closed an imaginary zipper over her mouth. "My lips are sealed, a bit like that lawyer you told Barney to go and see."
"Barney's been there already?" said Willow.
"I was with him when he got Penny's text. He went straight to the lawyer's office but was only in there for five minutes. The lawyer said he had information that may be relevant to the investigation, but he had to honour his client's confidentiality. The police need to get a court order to make him hand over the information. Barney does seem a bit more relaxed since he got the text, though. He's still worried about getting in trouble of course. He just needs a break in the case to get on his Sergeant's good side again."
"Maybe we can help him," I said. "What's been happening? What do the police know about what happened to Sam?"
Susie took her camera from her bag and turned the screen towards me and Willow. "You're not squeamish, are you?"
We both shook our heads, having a family like ours had knocked any squeamishness out of us years ago.
"They pulled Sam out of the canal in the early hours of the morning, but left him on the towpath until forensics could have a look at him," said Susie.
The photo Susie showed us was of Sam laying on the towpath, wearing a suit. His visible skin was white and wrinkled but there was no blood to be seen.
"He looks like he drowned," Willow said. "He almost looks peaceful."
Susie showed us another picture. This one displayed the rear of Sam's head as a man in protective clothing and a mask examined him. "I wasn't supposed to take these photos," she said, "But they hadn't put a tent around his body when I arrived, and I managed to snap a few from half way up the steps that lead down to the towpath."
We looked at the next picture. Susie had zoomed in on Sam's head, and it didn't take a pathologist to work out the cause of death. A long wound ran along the back of his skull, and his wet hair stuck to the shape of the gash, making it simple to deduce that the murder weapon had been cylindrical.
"They found one of those things on the towpath," said Susie. "What do you call them, the metal tools boat owners use to open lock gates?"
"A windlass," I said.
The Wickford lock was only a few hundred metres from where Sam's body had been found, and it wasn't uncommon for boat owners to forget to stow their windlasses after passing through the gates. The canal was only wide enough for one boat for almost half a mile from where Sam had been found. Maybe it had fallen off a boat, and the murderer had found it and used it as an impromptu weapon.
"They've sent it off for forensic tests," Susie said. "And they're sending Sam for a post-mortem. The police say it will take a week for the results to come back."
"Any witnesses?" said Willow. "The Lock and Key pub balcony is right above the towpath."
"No. the police think he was murdered further along the path, near where they found the windlass, and the wind blew his body as far as the pub. There were a few boats moored up where the canal widens, but the residents were all asleep."
"How was he found?" I said. "Nobody walks along the towpath at that time of night. It was almost midnight when Barney got the radio message."
Susie put her camera away. "The Lock and Key closed at half eleven, but one guy needed to relieve himself. He went down the steps at the side of the pub to use the towpath, and saw Sam. He was still floating slowly towards the lock, so he used a tree branch to snag him, and phoned the police."
"What was Sam doing down there?" Willow said. "He doesn't strike me as the type to take moonlit walks."
"He'd been to the nursing home. Remember Veronica told us they were having a party for the residents and their families?"
We nodded.
"Well, Sam's dad's a resident there," Susie said. "He drank too much to drive home, and with Wickford being so small there were no taxis running that late. He decided to walk home, and he was murdered on his way."
"Have any suspects been arrested?" said Willow.
"The police have visited nearly twenty people, including Hilda Cox from the allotment, and Emily the florist. Most of them have watertight alibis, but they're bringing in a few
of them for further questioning," said Susie. "Barney seems to think it's very important to find the guy who was arguing with Sam, and to get the lawyer to talk. He wants the lawyer's information before the police get the warrant. He thinks it will save his job."
"We can keep an eye out for Granny's badboy," I said, "but we can't make the lawyer talk."
Willow tapped the table absentmindedly. "Maybe we can," she said.
"How?" said Susie, "are you going to use your feminine charms on him?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "I was thinking more of Granny's spell book, she keeps it hidden in the cellar."
"Yes, and the doors have got more locks on it than Fort Knox," I said. "Granny will never let us use it. She calls it her weapon of mutually assured destruction. She brought it back from the haven to defend herself from attacks from other witches, back when she was a survivalist. We've got no hope of getting any help from her."
Willow smirked. "We didn't have any hope of getting her help, but that was before we found out about Boris. I think we've got a goat shaped ace up our sleeve. She'd hate for anyone to find out what she's done."
"We won't be able to make the spells work," I said. "Especially the ones which control people. It's old magic. We've never used it before."
"We can try," said Willow. "Otherwise that lawyer's never going to talk before Barney can redeem himself."
"Okay," I said. "We'll go back to Granny's. You can come too if you want, Susie. You can meet Charleston."
"Boris," corrected Willow.
"I'd love to come," said Susie, "but I need to edit a story I wrote about the murder. Say hello to Granny for me, though."
"What are you saying about your grandmother?" said Mum, hurrying into the kitchen, an imprint from the telescope around her eye. "She's up to something. I know it. I just saw her taking Boris into her house. I'm going straight over there to find out why she's been ignoring my calls. Was she acting strangely when you two were there?"
