by Sam Short
Mavis groaned. “I only see Ethel at the bowling club. We’re not great friends, but I did hear her telling the clique she’s in that she was feeling better since visiting that new hypnotherapist in town. You know, the chubby gay one. The one with lovely dress sense.” She blinked. “My head hurts. Am I real?”
Gladys swelled with pride. Hearing her son spoken about in such beautiful terms was music to her ears. “She’s snapping out of it,” she said. “Just carry on as if nothing’s happened.”
Willow stepped forward and bent over to pick up Mavis’s secateurs. “Here you are, Mavis,” she said handing them to the confused woman. “You dropped these.”
“Did I?” said Mavis. “My, my, this sun is strong, isn’t it? I went a little dizzy just then, I think I need a cup of tea. Would anyone else like one?”
“No thank you,” said Gladys. “We’ve got important work to do, but Mavis, I have a request to ask of you. Would you be the organist at my wedding on Saturday?”
“Yes!” said Mavis instantly. “Yes! I will be your organist, Gladys! Oh how lovely! I hope Ethel isn’t too upset, have you told her yet, Gladys?”
Gladys searched deep inside herself for the appropriate answer. Images of Columbo and Sherlock Holmes entwined in her mind’s eye, and she gathered herself as she delivered her sarcastic, yet witty, punchline. “Ethel won’t mind, Mavis, and anyway, compared to you, she’s a like a corpse playing the organ.”
“That was a disgusting thing to say, Granny,” said Willow. “Really disgusting. You don’t joke about dead people. It’s wrong.”
“Lighten up,” said Gladys. “It made Mavis laugh, didn’t it?”
“Mavis didn’t know Ethel is a corpse, Granny,” said Penny. “She thought you were complimenting her. I don’t think she’d have laughed if she had known.”
Gladys brought the Range Rover to a stop behind the police car parked on the side of the road. She was happy to be back at the chapel — she’d had to put up with criticism of her witty one-liner for the whole of the journey. She’d only been trying to lighten the mood. “Good, Barney’s here already,” she said.
“Of course he’s here,” said Penny. “You phoned him and told him we’d hit a complication in the case, and if he didn’t get here pronto, the whole thing might fall apart and he would end up in prison for attempting to cover up a murder. You told him that feds don’t get it easy in the big-house, and a pretty boy like him wouldn’t last a night, let alone until breakfast time.”
Had Penny really needed to memorise every word she’d said to Barney? It seemed a little show-offy and very unnecessary. Penelope needed to learn to prioritise if she was to be a successful amateur sleuth. Besides, that wasn’t all Gladys had said. She’d told Barney about the dog and Ethel’s visits to her son’s hypnotherapist business too. “A little fire lit under him is what he needs,” said Gladys. “We’re going to need to use some good old fashioned police work from hereon in, and Barney’s going to have to be on top of his game. I was just trying to install some urgency in him.”
“Well, mission accomplished,” said Willow. “Judging by the skid marks behind his car, he wasn’t wasting any time when he got here.”
The walk to the chapel took them less than five minutes, and Gladys crossed herself before she entered the building.
“You’re not religious, Granny,” said Willow. “You’re a witch. You’ve got your immortality sorted out in The Haven, and anyway, you said your wedding was going to be secular.”
“Maybe Ethel was, dear,” said Gladys. “It was for her, and this was a place of worship at one time, after all. I’m being respectful.”
Barney was busy at work when they entered, and he looked up, his face red and his eyes panicked. “I’ve had a good look around,” he said, getting straight to the point, which impressed Gladys. She was a fan of urgency. “I can’t find any footprints leading into the trees or any sign of a dog. I can’t find anything that the murderer might have dropped, and thanks to you, Gladys, I can’t ask the fingerprinting department to come and check the place over.”
“Calm your horses, big-boy,” said Gladys. “Take a chill-pill.” She looked at Penny. “Was that right?”
Penny nodded. “Yes. Chill-pill.”
“What do you mean — chill?” said Barney. “How can I chill? There’s a dead body in this chapel, and I’m a policeman. I’m in a lot of trouble if my involvement in all… this, ever gets out.”
“Calm down. What about Ethel’s body?” said Gladys. “Are there any clues on it?”
Barney tugged a pair of blue plastic gloves from his hands and put them in his pocket. “I’ve had a good look at her. It looks like it happened very quickly, and apart from an old wound on her head and the stab wound in the back of her neck, there’s nothing more to see without a forensic examination.”
“Old wound?” said Penny.
Barney nodded and wiped sweat from his forehead. “An old scar, a big one on the top of her head. It looks like she was lucky to have survived it.”
“What about the stab wound?” said Willow. “Can you tell what sort of knife was used?”
“I don’t know,” said Barney. “A small one, certainly not a hunting knife — the wound is too small.”
“What about that note the detective had written?” said Penny. “I gave it to you. Did you check it out?”
Barney gave an exasperated sigh. “Of course I did. That’s the first thing I did when I got back to the station, but I can’t find any mention of Ethel Boyd in the system, and definitely not from nineteen-eighty-seven.”
“So why did the detective write it down?” said Willow.
“He’s been in the force for nearly forty years,” said Barney. “He’s an old hat. He probably remembered something. Something that’s not in the system. That’s what they did back then. They trusted their memories rather than a computer system.”
“So what next?” said Willow. “What do we do now? We’ve got nothing to go on.”
“I suggest you undo all this magic,” said Barney. “We report the murder, and you find somewhere else to get married, Gladys.”
“Oh, Barney,” said Gladys. “That’s not going to happen, sweetheart. I came here from The Haven to make the final arrangements for my wedding, and I am not going back there to tell my betrothed that I failed at such a simple task. He already thinks disaster follows me everywhere I go, and I won’t have him proved right. We’re going to solve this little problem, and we’re going to do it quickly.”
Barney’s eyes lit up. “Why didn’t we think of it sooner!” he said. “Of course! It’s so simple! Probably.”
“What?” said Penny. “What’s simple?”
Barney ignored Penny, and turned his excited face to Gladys. “Gladys, I’ve seen the sort of magic you’re capable of! Surely you can cast a spell like the ones I’ve seen on the telly, you know, replay the whole scene in front of us! It’ll be like watching a film of the murder, but with ghostly figures as people. All the magic people on TV shows and films do it!”
The realisation came to Gladys so hard it made her gasp. Finally, after all those long years, she understood why the teachers at her school had been so frustrated when she hadn’t been able to grasp simple concepts. It was enraging, Gladys realised. The teachers had been enraged with her, just as she was with Barney.
Gladys had repeatedly asked stupid questions in school, like the one Barney had just asked — no wonder she’d been rapped on the hand with a wooden ruler so frequently — just looking at Barney’s enquiring face made her want to clip him around the ear.
“Well?” said Barney. “Can you do it?”
Gladys opened her mouth to speak, but had second thoughts. Maybe it would be therapeutic to her if she spoke to Barney in the way she’d have liked the teachers to have spoken to her. Maybe she’d have responded better to kindness, than she had a length of hard wood across the knuckles.
She twisted her face into the kindly expression she saved for anybod
y who was about to be involved in the preparation of food that she’d ordered — she’d heard too many horror stories about spit being found in soup, to risk upsetting a waitress or a chef. “Oh, Barney,” she said gently. “You poor simple child. You lovely idiot. Of course I can’t do what you ask.”
“There’s no need for that,” said Barney. “I’m not stupid.”
Gladys gave up on kindness. If Barney couldn’t recognise his own inadequacies, then Gladys wasn’t about to sugarcoat them for him. “You’re a blathering simpleton, Barney Dobkins,” she said. “Do I look like a witch, or a time traveller? I’ll give you a clue… I’m not a time traveller, I’m a witch. I can’t turn back time like something you saw on the television. Goddess give me strength!”
“Granny!” said Penny. “Don’t speak to him like that! He doesn’t know what you can and can’t do!”
Gladys began pacing. “I’m going to have to take on the role of lead-investigator, it seems. Barney, are you still on side, despite the things I just said to you?”
“Yes,” muttered Barney. “I suppose.”
Gladys nodded. “Good. We need you, and Ethel needs you. I want you to go back to the police station and try and keep trying to find out what happened in nineteen-eighty-seven, okay? If inspector Jameson thought it was relevant then maybe it is. The rest of us will go and speak to my son, and find out what Ethel was seeing him about. Everyone clear?”
“I’ll meet you in town,” said Penny. “I’ll take the boat back to the mooring. Willow and I live on it, and I’m not sleeping on a part of the canal next to a chapel with a dead body in it.”
“You do that,” said Gladys. “I respect your reasoning. Willow and I will go and speak to Brian. You can make a bed up for me on the boat, I’m not going back to The Haven until I can tell Charleston that the wedding is going ahead as planned. I’ll be living with you for a little while.”
Penny seemed pleased to be having her Granny stay onboard the boat, and she even gave Willow a covert look when she thought Gladys couldn’t see.
“I’ll check on the shop too,” said Penny. “Susie offered to look after it while we took you to the chapel. I said we’d only be an hour, I’m surprised she’s not phoning me every five minutes.”
The Spell Weavers was a nice little magic shop, but Gladys couldn’t see for the life of her why the girls continued to run it. Not since Gladys had come into her newfound income stream. She was more than happy to give them both money whenever they wanted it. She supposed the girls liked feeling independent, and Gladys wouldn’t take that away from them, although she knew without doubt that capitalism was the root of most of the evil in the world. Apart from luxury car dealerships, of course — they provided a necessary service which fuelled the economy.
Having their journalist friend living in the flat above the shop was turning out to be mutually beneficial. Susie looked after the shop for the girls when she could, and the girls provided Susie with all the incense and crystals the young girl needed to sort out her chakras. Gladys wasn’t going to have her murder investigation interrupted by frantic telephone calls from Susie every few minutes, though, and she’d already taken steps to avoid that.
“She probably is ringing every five minutes,” said Gladys. “I put a curse on both of your phones, I was fed up of hearing buzzes and bings every few minutes. There’s life outside of social media you know. Now, come on, people, we’ve got work to do.”
With everyone dancing to her beautifully orchestrated tune, and the girls checking their phones, Gladys led her team out of the chapel and ensured the building, and Ethel’s body, were still protected by magic.
Chapter Eight
Brian was saying goodbye to a client as Willow and Gladys entered his office. Or was it studio? Gladys didn’t know, and neither did she care.
“Thank you, Brian,” said the stick thin woman as she handed over a wad of notes. “I already feel like I’ll never touch another cigarette!” She glanced at Gladys and Willow. “Whatever problems you’ve come to have solved, I can assure you, Brian will help. He’s a miracle worker.”
Gladys was in awe of Brian, and she ignored Maggie when she insinuated that it was unethical for Brian to cure people with magic, and charge them for hypnotherapy. Sibling rivalry was an awful thing, and Maggie suffered terribly from it. Gladys couldn’t have been prouder of her son, though, and she suspected that people would gladly pay more if they knew it was magic that had cured them.
“Mother!” said Brian, as the client left the shop with a parting smile. “Willow! How lovely to see you both. What do you think of the waiting room? I’ve freshened it up a little since you were last here.”
Gladys thought it looked marvellous, and Willow had what Gladys assumed was a look of proud astonishment on her face.
“Who are those handsome girls on the posters?” said Gladys, hooking her arm through her sons. He’d put on weight, she could tell, but he had an excuse — he was a busy man. Maggie, on the other hand, had no excuse whatsoever for being as round as a biscuit barrel, and on Friday nights at least, consisting solely of similar contents.
Brian pointed at the posters in turn. “That’s Kylie,” he said, “and the gorgeous one next to her is the queen of pop herself.”
Gladys squinted. Maybe her glasses weren’t working properly. The woman in the poster, with half of her cleavage on show, looked nothing like the queen of pop to her. The cone shaped bra was something the queen of pop wouldn’t have been seen dead in. “That’s not Cilla Black, is it, darling?” she said. “I don’t remember her being that overt with her sexuality. She was always the nice girl next door type.”
“It’s Madonna, Granny,” said Willow.
“Thank goodness for that,” said Gladys. “I really didn’t like thinking of Cilla looking like that. She was always so wholesome.” She squeezed her son’s arm. “It looks lovely in here, and you should be proud of yourself.”
“Thank you, Mother,” said Brian. “Are you ready for your wedding? I can’t wait to walk you down the aisle. I’ve chosen my suit and polished my shoes. It’s going to be a lovely day!”
Gladys slid her arm away from Brian. “That’s why we’re here, sweetie. There’s been a problem with the chapel, and if we don’t sort it out soon, there might not be a wedding on Saturday.”
“Oh no!” said Brian, putting a guarding hand over his chest. “What’s happened? Let me guess… a rare species of bat has been found living in the chapel, and it’s against the law to move them?”
“Oh gosh, no!” said Gladys. “Nothing that drastic. I’d have no chance of sorting that type of problem out by Saturday… you can’t just shoo rare bats away with magic. The poor creatures wouldn’t know what to do! No, the problem’s not quite in that ball-park.”
“Thank Goddess,” said Brian. “What is it then?”
Gladys lowered her voice as if the walls had ears. “A woman was murdered in the chapel this morning. Whilst playing Rocket Man on the organ. Stabbed in the back of the neck, would you believe? It’s all very sad, but I need to find out who did it as quickly as possible. We can mourn at a later date. Perhaps.”
“I’m glad you think it’s sad, Granny,” said Willow, a condescending look in her eyes. “Listening to you would lead people to believe it was simply a minor spanner in the works of your wedding arrangements.”
Brian stumbled, and collapsed into one of the big leather seats he’d installed for waiting clients. “Not Ethel?” he said. “Please don’t tell me it was Ethel.”
“I’m afraid so, son,” said Gladys, patting the big man on his head. Brian always had enjoyed physical affection from his mother, so Gladys formed a fist and monkey scrubbed his scalp. “That’s why we came here. We found out that she was a client of yours. We need to know why she was seeing you, it could help with finding out who killed her.”
Brian pushed his mother’s hand away and stood up. “Have you heard of client confidentiality?” he said. “Good heavens!”
�
�Have you heard of a clip around the ear?” said Gladys. “You’re not to big to put over my knee, you know!” She suspected he was. She also suspected he’d fight back, so Gladys hoped she wasn’t forced to implement corporal punishment as encouragement to make him sing.
“I could get in trouble!” said Brian. “I could lose my business!”
“Uncle Brian,” said Willow. “You use magic and pretend you’re a hypnotherapist. You’re on quite thin ice already.”
“And you’ve chosen your suit and polished your shoes, dear,” said Gladys. “If we don’t find out who killed Ethel, you’ll not be wearing them on Saturday.”
“Poor Ethel,” said Brian, defeatedly lowering himself into the seat once more. “She worked so hard to make sure she could step inside that chapel again. Magic could only get her so far, the anxiety was so deeply embedded — she did most of the work herself. She was really hoping you’d pick her to play the organ. She needed the money you were offering, and she said it would be like facing her demons.”
Gladys and Willow sat down too. Gladys on the seat next to her son’s, and Willow on the chaise lounge. “Tell me everything,” said Gladys.
Brian sighed. “She came to see me on the day you offered her and another woman the chance to play the organ at your wedding.”
“Mavis,” said Gladys. “And we’ve already ruled her out as a jealous murderer. I didn’t really think it was her anyway, she’s far too nice.”
“That’s right,” said Willow. “You never thought it was Mavis.”
Gladys wondered how many times Willow could roll her eyes in one day without causing permanent damage to her sight.
Brian loosened his tie, allowing a shaved roll of fat to bulge over his shirt collar. “Yes, Mavis,” he said, with a nod. “Ethel really wanted you to choose her over Mavis, but first she had to drum up the courage to step inside the chapel.”
