by Sam Short
“A guilty conscience,” said Gladys. “Laid bare.”
Penny continued. “I was on the sidelines of an incident which occurred in nineteen-eighty-seven. The Wickford police force was corralled into a cover-up of sorts by a powerful person. Although the criminal concerned was punished for his crime, he was charged with a crime far more serious than the one he had, in reality, committed. The parents of the man in question helped secure their son’s false imprisonment, and both continued with their high-level careers, with no evidence of the crime their son had committed ever making its way into the public domain. The following document outlines the incidents in chronological order, and the names of the people involved in the cover-up.”
Penny put her phone down.
“Is that it?” said Gladys. “We know most of that from the letter that Ethel was supposed to receive.”
“That’s it,” said Penny. “It seems like your trip to the police station was wasted.”
“And it tired me out so much, too,” said Gladys. “I feel like I’m made of lead. I’m not used to casting so many spells in such a short time frame. I’ve spent too many months in The Haven. I’m not used to being in the mortal world. The magic feels so weak here.”
“Why don’t you pop back to The Haven?” suggested Willow. “You’ll feel better the moment you step through a portal, and you must be missing Charleston.”
“I’m supposed to be getting married the day after tomorrow,” said Gladys. “I can’t go back to Charleston and tell him what’s going on here, he’ll be excited about slipping his ring over my finger on Saturday — I don’t want him to worry that the wedding won’t be going ahead. And I can’t lie to him either. I won’t lie to him.”
“Why don’t you go and visit Eva instead?” suggested Penny. “Me and Willow will go and find out if Susie has got into the tablet yet, and if anything else important happens, I’ll open a portal and come straight to The Haven and tell you. You need your magic recharged, Granny. You’re not a young witch anymore, and you’ll need all your power to cast a beautification spell over the chapel.”
“If your magic weakens too much, the spells you’ve already cast over the chapel might fail,” said Willow. “We don’t want Ethel’s body coming out of stasis before we find out who killed her.”
“And you cast a spell which stops people approaching the chapel,” said Penny. “Go on, Granny. Go to The Haven for an hour or two and regain your strength.”
Gladys sighed. Like it or not, Penny was right — she wasn’t a young witch anymore. She didn’t consider herself old, but she certainly wasn’t in the first flush of youth any longer. She could begrudgingly accept that. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go and see my sister, but if anything happens, you come and get me okay?”
The girls nodded.
“Do you mind if I use your bathroom door, Penelope?” said Gladys. She’d been brought up to always ask permission before using somebody’s doorway as a portal, and she was proud of her manners.
“Of course you can,” said Penny.
Gladys struggled to her feet — she was very tired. A trip to The Haven would be a welcome elixir, and Eva did make a wonderful cup of tea. She stood before the small doorway, pictured where she wanted the portal to open in The Haven, and cast her spell.
Eva hardly raised an eyebrow as her sister stepped out of the light and through her kitchen door. “Gladys!” she said. “How lovely to see you. I thought you’d forgotten about us commoners since taking up residence in that fancy castle of yours.”
“I’ll always have time for the simple things in life,” said Gladys, taking a seat at the large table. “And there’s nobody simpler than you.”
Gladys sniffed the air. Her sister was baking flapjacks.
“You look tired,” said Eva. “Cuppa?”
Gladys nodded, and watched her sister making the tea. She was happy that Eva was in her eighty-nine year old body, and hadn’t taken on the form of her younger self. Although Gladys would never utter the words out loud, she’d always been jealous of her sister’s figure when they’d both been younger. Eva had always seemed… more in proportion than herself.
Eva placed the large green teapot between them, and slid a cup across the table. “Help yourself,” she said, ever the gracious hostess. “And tell me about your wedding arrangements. Are you all ready for Saturday?”
“Sort of,” said Gladys. “I do wish you could come, you know that, don’t you?”
“I’d croak within seconds of arriving in Wickford,” said Eva. “Then you’d be having one wedding and a funeral. I’m happy enough just knowing you’re getting married in the chapel that Mum was married in, and I’m sure you’ll show me the photographs.”
“If I get married in the chapel,” said Gladys, spooning sugar into her cup.
“What do you mean if?” said Eva. “That’s the whole reason you’re not getting married here — in The Haven — so you can finally honour Mother’s wishes!”
“Something happened in the chapel,” said Gladys. “Something terrible, and I think I’ve done the wrong thing about it. You know how emotional I can get in the grip of a panic.”
If Gladys had ever been asked to list both her strong and her weak qualities, the fact that she got emotional in a panic would have been at the very top of both columns, but in the instance of Ethel’s murder — she was working directly from the weak points column. She wished she could turn back the clock and allow the police to continue with their investigation of Ethel’s murder. It seemed that her investigation was getting her nowhere.
“What’s happened?” said Eva. “I bet it’s got something to do with bats, hasn’t it?”
“What is it with bats?” said Gladys. “No! It’s not bats. Somebody was murdered in the chapel, and I think my response was over-zealous.”
Eva sipped her tea. “Let me get us both a flapjack from the oven, and then you can tell me all about it. I love a good murder yarn.”
When Gladys had finished speaking, she sat back in her seat and sighed. Saying it all out loud had made her realise how foolish she’d been. She’d never had a chance of finding out who’d killed Ethel. She should have left it to the police. Perhaps they’d have solved it by now, and her wedding would be going ahead as planned.
“I think your response was perfectly understandable in the situation,” said Eva, much to Gladys’s surprise. “You’ve finally found another man stupi— lucky enough to marry you, and you felt threatened. I wouldn’t have acted like you, of course. I’d have simply rearranged the wedding date and allowed the police to complete their very important work, but as you’ve already noted — you’re governed by your emotions.”
“I can’t rearrange the date,” said Gladys, spinning her cup in its saucer. “If I tell you something, can we just skate over it and not discuss it further?”
Eva put her cup down and tilted her head. “Of course,” she said. “I promise.”
A promise from Eva was as good as Gladys needed. She forced the words from her mouth. They were hard to speak. Although she knew Charleston would be safe in The Haven, she hated to think of anything bad happening to him.
She frowned. “Charleston can’t make many more visits to Wickford,” she said. “His mortal body is failing, and time is running out for him in the other world. If I don’t get married in that chapel on Saturday, I won’t be getting married there at all. He can’t risk waiting another two weeks, let alone the time it will take to cancel all the invitations and rearrange everything. He’d die the second he passed through the portal.”
Eva put her hand on Gladys’s. “Charleston and I have something in common then,” she said. “Well. You’d better find out who killed Ethel. She won’t care how many spells you’ve cast, and how much you’ve complicated things. She’s dead. You must concentrate on the living, like Mum always told us.”
“We think alike,’ said Gladys. “But I don’t know what to do next.”
“Did you bring the letter?” said Eva.
“The one that was meant for Ethel? Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will throw some light on it.”
Gladys reached into her pocket and retrieved the envelope, she slid the letter from it and handed it to her sister. She hoped Eva was speaking in analogies, because her cataract clouded eyes were about as fresh as the ideas Gladys had about going any further towards solving Ethel’s murder.
Eva read it slowly, her mouth silently forming the words as her eyes danced over the paper. “LHG,” she said. “When you told me about the letter, the initials rang a bell somewhere in the back of my mind, but seeing it written down on paper is like having Big Ben clanging in my head.” She put the letter down. “I know who wrote this, Gladys. I know who LHG is.”
Chapter Fourteen
Gladys was exhilarated. Her magic felt fresh, and her bones had stopped aching. She felt ten years younger, and as she stumbled through the portal and into the Water Witch, she shouted the news at the top of her voice. “I’ve blown the case wide open!” she yelled.
“We know who LHG is!’ shouted Willow.
Gladys blinked. Barney and Susie had joined Willow and Penny, and the four of them sat around the table staring at her.
“I know who LHG is, too!” said Gladys. “What time did you find out? I found out fifteen minutes ago.”
“I found out about twenty minutes ago,” said Susie. “Not that it matters. It’s not a competition.”
Barney scowled. “I found out about half an hour ago, but I couldn’t get back here to tell anybody. If it is a competition. I won. Hands down.”
Gladys controlled her irrational rage. The first step to controlling rage was to know whether it was irrational or not, and Gladys considered herself a good judge of her own character. “I really don’t think it matters who found out first,” she said. “It simply matters that we know. The burning question is why you didn’t come and tell me, Penelope? You promised that you’d come through a portal if there was any news.”
“I was going to,” said Penny. “But Susie and Barney only just got here. We were comparing notes.”
Gladys nudged Rosie out of the comfy wicker chair and sat down. The cat gave a mewl of protestation, but leapt up onto Willow’s lap and settled down.
“How did you two find out?” said Gladys. “Eva told me. She used to work for her, over forty years ago, as a cook. She remembered the initials.” She looked at Susie. “You go first. How do you know who LHG is?”
Susie held up the tablet. “I got into this. It was easy with a little help from the internet, and as you suspected, Gladys, Ethel banked online. She obviously didn’t trust her memory because there’s a little file on here containing all her passwords, and even her credit card pin numbers. I found out who was paying her, and how much. Ethel was receiving five thousand pounds each month, and the amount never changed. Five grand is a lot now, but the payments go back thirty years. Five grand was an awful lot back then.”
“She got paid a lot to keep quiet about something,” said Gladys. She turned her attention to Barney. “What about you? How did you find out?”
Barney picked up a white booklet from the tabletop. A black cross on the front, and the sombre font used for the typeset told Gladys what it was without reading the words. “A funeral order of service,” she said.
Barney nodded. “She said in the letter to Ethel that her husband was dead, she didn’t say how recently though. He only died last week, and the reason my boss wanted one of the force at the funeral was as a mark of respect for all the work he did. He was a judge in the eighties, you see. He put a lot of criminals behind bars.”
“Including his son,” said Gladys. She took Ethel’s letter from her pocket and read from it. “What he did was unforgivable, and as you know, God will be the ultimate judge of his actions. Thinking he had killed you, was, I believe, punishment enough. I believe that the part my husband and I played in locking him away for so long under false pretences, will mean we’ll be judged harshly by God too.”
“He locked his own son away,” said Willow.
Gladys folded the letter and nodded. “On false charges. Lord Benjamin Green was a corrupt judge. Let’s see what his wife has to say for herself. Lady Helen Green has a lot of explaining to do.”
“What’s the plan?” said Barney. “The woman has just buried her husband, and nobody knows Ethel is dead. We’re assuming Ethel’s death is something to do with Lady Green’s son, but I checked with all the relevant agencies and nobody has moved to town since he was released from prison.”
“Murderers don’t have to live in the town they kill in,” said Gladys. “In fact it’s probably best for their liberty if they don’t.”
“I know,” said Barney. “I’m just saying we’re assuming an awful lot of things with no evidence apart from a cover-up almost thirty years ago. We don’t know what was covered up, and we don’t know why. We can’t just turn up at Lady Green’s house and demand answers.”
Gladys smiled. “You’re not coming with us, Barney. This is a job for witches. If we need to make the good Lady’s tongue wag, then no amount of police presence is going to help. It’ll be down to good old fashioned magic. Questioning Lady Helen Green is a job for me and my granddaughters. And don’t worry, I’ll be sensitive to her recent loss, but I intend to have all the answers I need by this evening.”
The key-code entry security gates posed no problem for a car containing three witches, and Willow opened them with a simple spell, smiling as lilac sparks flowed from her fingers. The lane beyond the gates was more like a road than a driveway, and Gladys gunned the Range Rover’s engine, ignoring the polite sign which asked visitors to drive safely.
The Green’s mansion was set in impressive grounds. Ancient oak trees dominated the surrounding hills, and the large expanses of lawns were neatly cut, with barely a weed to be seen. Gladys respected a well kept outside space, but she did not respect wealthy people who covered up the crimes of their children. Even if they were grieving.
She followed the driveway lined with beech trees until the large house came into view. A single car was parked in the spacious gravelled area in front of the house, and Gladys brought the Range Rover to a halt next to the sleek black Jaguar.
She opened her door quickly and stepped out of the car. “Let’s do this,” she said, straightening her blouse and patting down her hair. She was at the home of a Lady after all. She had to look the part.
The large home was built from local stone, and the steps which led to the main entrance were decorated with potted shrubs. Gladys wiped her shoes on the boot scraper, and pressed the doorbell, wondering how many servants a house of such grandeur would require to ensure it ran smoothly.
The door opened slowly, and Gladys stared at the woman before her. She was certainly no servant, and if she was, she was an impeccably dressed servant. The woman’s red eyes, and the tissue tucked into the cuff of what looked to be a cashmere sweater, told Gladys what she needed to know. “I’m sorry for your loss, Lady Green,” she said, offering a half courtesy.
The elderly lady looked at them in turn. “Who are you?” she said. “How did you get through the security gates? I made sure they were locked. I wanted to be alone today.”
“The gates were easy to get though, and we’ve come to speak to you about your son,” said Gladys. “And Ethel Boyd. Can we come in please?”
A tendon in Lady Green’s neck tightened, and Gladys noted the spark of anxiety that flashed briefly in her eyes. She look directly at Gladys. “I knew this day would come,” she said. “The day I was finally confronted for my sins.” She looked Gladys up and down. “But I didn’t expect to be explaining myself to a tatty old woman and her two sidekicks. Why on earth do you think I’m going to tell you three anything?”
“Don’t speak to my grandmother like that,” said Penny.
Gladys laid a calming hand on her granddaughter’s arm. “Lady Green,” she said. “Believe me when I say that I’m terribly sorry you’ve lost your husband, but also believe
me when I say I’m going to get to the bottom of what happened in nineteen-eighty-seven. You can either speak to us, or you can speak to the police — and I don’t mean the police who were involved in the cover-up.”
Lady Green dropped her shoulders, and her face crumpled. “Who put you up to this?” she said. “How can you possibly know anything about what happened all those years ago?”
Gladys took the letter which Lady Green had written from her pocket. “This is your writing, isn’t it?”
As Lady Green stared at the letter, Gladys knew the elderly woman was beaten. She also sensed that the well dressed woman was filled with a guilt she wanted to relieve herself of. Lady Green’s conscience controlled the expression on her face, and Gladys saw the eyes of a woman wracked with shame.
“Well?” said Gladys. “Can we come in, or am I going to take this letter to the police, and I don’t mean Inspector Jameson.”
Hearing the name of the man who was somehow implicit in the cover-up was the final motivation Lady Green required. She stood aside and slowly opened the door wider. “You’d better come in,” she murmured.
Chapter Fifteen
The house had nothing on Huang Towers, but it was impressive nonetheless. Large oil paintings hung on the wood panelled walls, and antique furniture added to the home’s regal appearance.
Lady Green led them to a large room with tall windows which overlooked the grounds, and enough seating to host a large gathering of people. Gladys took a seat on a creaky Chesterfield sofa, and Penny and Willow sat alongside her, one on either side.
“I suppose you’d all like a drink?” said Lady Green, opening a hardwood drinks cabinet, complete with a small freezer compartment built into it. “I know I do.”
Penny and Willow declined the offer, but Gladys never turned down a free drink, especially from a cabinet on top of which were placed cut-crystal glasses. “A sherry, please,” she said. “Not too large, and not too small.”
