by Amy Casey
“I’d never say a thing like that.”
“I think you’ll find you did.”
We were quiet for a while, then. There was nothing I could say to Dad, and I knew it. He’d made his mind up about my involvement in the case, and nothing was going to change that.
“The ones who took Mum. They are close.”
I leaned forward, sighed. “Dad, Mum died of a heart attack. Aortic aneurysm. There was no evidence of foul play.”
“That’s what they would tell you, isn’t it?” he said. “But she’s not dead, Stella. She’s out there. Sometimes I hear her. Sometimes I think I even feel her.”
Again, there wasn’t a lot I could say. Because Dad was Dad, and he was set in his ways—slightly batty, a fan of Little Mix, but set in his ways.
I drank tea with him out of a cup that wasn’t exactly spot clean. I watched him open his present—a new book, which he examined with disinterest. And when all was said and done, the silence that fell over us was a sign that it was time to go.
I walked over to the door. Hugged him.
“You look after yourself, Dad.”
“Oh, I will. I always do, don’t I?”
“I’ll come see you again soon. I promise.”
He didn’t argue. He didn’t pull me up on it. He just smiled and nodded. Like he knew—like we both knew—that wasn’t going to be the case.
“Stay out of that case, Stella. Whatever you do, stay out.”
I nodded. Tried to convince him I would. Tried to convince myself I would.
But I couldn’t back out of it now.
I was in this case for the long haul.
It was a part of me now.
Right to its very end.
Chapter 14
The following day, I had the morning off. And I had no interest in respecting the police’s wishes—or my dad’s wishes—of staying out of this case.
I was nosy, sure. And I was going to put that nosiness to good use.
It was a cold morning. Naturally, considering it was the middle of bloody winter. There was a thin sheet of ice on the street, which made walking a little tricky. At least, it would do if I didn’t have my hover spell activated. I was just high enough above the ground to avoid making contact with it, with every step, but close enough that it wouldn’t look blindingly obvious.
It was a little complacent, sure. But I’d bought myself a little complacency over the years. If anyone did figure it out, “she’s a witch” surely wouldn’t be the first conclusion they jumped to.
Or maybe it would be. The world was a surprising place.
When I reached the door to Peter Pake’s house, I felt a knotting in my stomach. Mostly because I knew that I was breaking protocol by being here. But the truth was, this guy was one of Krissy’s two boyfriends. And he was the one she’d seen last. While it was true—and possible—that Krissy could’ve been killed in revenge by Mark, somehow I was doubtful. The way she’d been killed. That didn’t line up with a revenge killing. Not that I was an expert on revenge killing. It just didn’t strike me that someone would stab somebody so precisely so many times if they were feeling in a lover’s rage.
But Peter. Peter was the wildcard. What did I really know about this guy, anyway?
Well, this was what I’d been able to figure out—mostly through not-so-subtly quizzing people while working at Witchy Delights. Peter was a bit of a loner, which explained why I’d never really seen him. He lived alone in a rented house. He had a little money that he’d got through means that nobody could really figure out.
Oh. And some people were convinced he was some kind of Devil worshipper.
Hell. He might even have a rabbit on a lead at this rate.
As I walked up his pathway, I knew I should turn away. I should walk. Because eventually the police would get to him if he had anything to do with Krissy’s death.
But I had a duty to find out what was going on for this whole community. So like it or not, I was pursuing this lead, no matter where it went.
I knocked on Peter’s door. Nothing but silence in response. I tried again, but to no avail. I started to get cold feet. Not just figuratively, but literally. I was mad being here. I should leave it to the police and the people in the know.
I went to turn around and I heard the door open.
When I turned back, I saw who I assumed was Peter standing there.
He was taller and skinnier than I remembered him being the few times I’d seen him. Longish hair, 80’s style, covering his ears. He had an Ian Curtis look about him, and was wearing a striped slim-fit crew neck T-shirt and drainpipe jeans. The inside of his house smelled a bit like weed.
“Yeah?” he said.
I did the only thing I could and held out the bundle of coffee supplies I’d brought along with me. “I was just passing. Wondered if you fancied a coffee?”
He shook his head, started to close the door. “I’ve got a lot on—”
“I know about Krissy,” I said.
The door stopped. Peter glared at me. “What?”
“Before she died. Krissy told me about you two. About… about how you were together. Well. Sort of together.”
His face started to flush then. I wasn’t sure whether it was with guilt or with fear.
“So how about that coffee?”
It wasn’t long before I was sitting in Peter’s lounge. It was a lot tidier than I was expecting, in all truth, albeit a little dark and dusty.
Peter sat with both hands wrapped around his mug of coffee staring into space. I was surprised just how little he’d spoken since I’d come in here. He certainly didn’t seem to be making much of a secret of his relationship with Krissy, though, which I supposed showed some level of honesty.
“I just don’t understand,” he said, his voice shaky and quivery, like he hadn’t used it for a while.
“Understand what?”
“Who’d do this to her. Who’d kill her. She… she was such a good person. Right to the end.”
I paused. I thought about mentioning Mark Heaps. He was her boyfriend. That added up with the jealous lover angle, didn’t it?
But he skipped ahead and beat me to it.
“And yeah. I know what you’re going to say. ‘If she was so good, why was she seeing two people?’ But Mark was… problematic. She was working on him.”
“Problematic how?”
“Huh?”
“When you say problematic. Do you mean… well, murderously problematic?”
“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Well. At least I don’t think so. No, she wanted to split up with Mark. But he was in a bad way, mentally. She worried what it might do to him if she told him the truth. But really, they hadn’t been close for a long time.”
I started to understand Krissy’s side of the story now. At least, if what Peter was telling me was true. It added up, at least. That counted for something.
But all this about Mark being in a bad way mentally. That didn’t exactly bolster his case.
“And Krissy never made any enemies?”
“Nothing like that,” Peter said. “Only… only there was something.”
“Go on.”
Peter leaned forward as we sat in his lounge. “A few weeks ago. Krissy told me she saw someone watching her. And she couldn’t explain why she felt so discomforted by it. I mean, she was a pretty girl. She got looked at all the time. But she said… she said she felt like this person was just staring into her, somehow. I dunno. Maybe it was nothing. But maybe it was something, too.”
“Where did this happen?” I asked.
“Down by the new shopping centre development,” Peter said. “Where the construction site is. Someplace like that. But anyway. It’s probably nothing.”
There wasn’t much else I could gather from Peter. He told me how much he liked Krissy. But he couldn’t tell me a whole lot else that I didn’t already know. She had a good relationship with her family. Good friends, although not too many of them. It didn’t seem lik
e there was much room for investigation on these fronts—which was frustrating.
I went to leave. Next on my agenda was Boyfriend Two, or One, or whichever he was. Mark Heaps.
“One question for you,” Peter said.
I turned back to him. “Shoot.”
“Why join the police?”
I narrowed my eyes. “The police? What do you mean?”
“The police. I mean, you were a bit early. But you said you’d be here this afternoon. I was just surprised when I saw you, that’s all. Bit of a radical career change from Witchy Delights, isn’t it?”
I felt a sense of dread creep up my body when I heard the car pull up outside.
When I heard the footsteps creeping up the pathway.
When I heard the knock at the door.
“I need to hide,” I said.
Peter frowned. “What—”
I grabbed his arms. Controlled him, influenced him so he’d be okay with what I suggested next as the police knocked on his door. “I need to hide. And you need to make damned sure nobody else knows I’m here.”
“What… Okay.”
Peter went to open the door.
I raced towards the cupboard under the stairs.
“Hi, Peter. DI Burke. Can we come inside? We have a few questions for you.”
Chapter 15
Okay so hiding in the cupboards under the stairs in a prime suspect’s house wasn’t exactly how I imagined my day playing out.
And yeah. I get the Harry Potter jibes.
I listened as DI Steve Burke’s footsteps squeaked across the kitchen floor of Peter’s house. My heart raced, partly because I’d started running upstairs only to realise I actually wanted to witness what was being discussed, so had done a full-on U-turn and thrown myself in this cupboard. But also because, I had to admit it, I was a little scared.
Scared of being caught. Scared of what it would mean for me.
Because Steve didn’t sound like he was messing around when he told me to back out of the case.
Besides. I liked this whole stealthy, independent approach. I wanted to keep it going.
Oh. And I’d cast a short-term invisibility spell too, just in case. Little bit pointless really, hiding in a cupboard under the stairs like Harry-bloody-Potter when I’m fully invisible. Should probably put my invisibility to good use, in all truth. And anyway. Harry Potter had it bloody easy anyway. Invisibility-bloody-cloak. What I’d give for one of those.
I listened as the detective screeched a chair across the kitchen floor. I could hear him talking and Peter talking in turn, but I couldn’t quite make out their words. There were two ways I could go about this—I could use another of my spells to enhance my hearing, but truth be told, that spell gave me a hell of a headache considering it didn’t wear off for a good twelve hours. I’d have to listen to Rocky licking his balls all night—in fine detail.
So considering I was invisible for now, I figured I’d keep my composure, climb out of this cupboard and go have a listen to whatever was being discussed.
There had to be something of note, right?
I shuffled towards the front of the cupboard, pushed it open slightly, trying desperately not to let it creak.
When I was out of there, I walked quietly over towards the kitchen door, put my ear right up to it, but didn’t lean against it. I couldn’t risk leaning against it.
I just had to hold my ground.
I just had to listen.
“As you’ll know, Peter, we’ve been looking very intently into the murder of your girlfriend, Krissy. And we’re satisfied to be able to say that it definitely looks like murder now.”
“Satisfied to say it’s murder?” I muttered, in disbelief. “Wonder what gave that away? The flurry of stab wounds across the body, perhaps?”
“Have you got any idea who did it?” Peter asked. His voice sounded shaky. I could tell he was uneasy, not just because of what was being discussed, but no doubt because he knew I was hiding in his house somewhere after playing private investigator. He’d thought I was a police officer. I was surprised he hadn’t spilled that information to the police already. I could whip up a quick spell to convince him otherwise, but I didn’t think I really had the time or the energy.
The short-term spell I’d cast on him would surely have worn off by now. So I had to conclude that he hadn’t told them because he sensed in me a little more… well, competence than he recognised in the police.
At least I had to hope that was it.
“We’re working on building a list of suspects,” Steve said. More genius detective work. A murder with a list of suspects. Who’d have thought it? “But, I have to ask, Peter. And this may sound a rather frank question. But that’s the way the questions are going to have to be if we’re going to get to the bottom of this mystery. But were you aware of Krissy ever taking any drugs?”
I heard the gasp in Peter’s voice; the gasp that gave away his surprise. “Drugs? No. I—”
“It’s just it seems like you’re partial to the old… you know, the old dooby or two.”
The old dooby. I felt myself blushing for Peter at Steve’s attempts to talk street.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Peter asked.
“Toxicology found traces of Hemlock in her bloodstream, and forensics found it sprinkled on her body, too. It looks like the Hemlock was enwrapped in a casing of Valerian root and marijuana. Some kind of street concoction of the two, probably designed to chill the users out. But Hemlock is highly poisonous. It’s probably been slipped in there as an extra by someone with unholy intentions. And chances are, that’s what killed her.”
I found myself just as confused as no doubt Peter was. I’d seen the stab wounds. I knew they had been the source of the murder.
“I don’t understand,” Peter said, echoing my thoughts rather nicely. “I thought Krissy was stabbed?”
“She was. No doubt about that. But we’re beginning to think that the stab wounds weren’t actually the cause of death. This Hemlock. It looks like Krissy was poisoned by it. And you’re partial to a herb or two, right?”
I could see where this was going. And I had to grant it to Steve, it was a solid line of enquiry. But at the same time, it just didn’t seem to add up. It didn’t make sense.
Why would someone poison Krissy then do what they’d done to her body?
There had to be a motive. There had to be some kind of genuine reason.
“I’ve smoked weed from time to time,” Peter said. “I can’t lie about that. But those days are well behind me. And besides. I never had any herbal medicine or whatever you wanna call it. And I’ve never even heard of this Hemlock or Valerian you’re talking about. Might want to go back to the drawing board there.”
I expected Steve to have some kind of retort. I expected him to grill Peter some more, to try and chip away at his resolve.
Instead, he did quite the opposite.
“Right,” he said, sounding a bit lost. “Okay then. Well… well we’ll be back in touch when we have any more information.”
“Wait,” Peter said. “Is that it?”
A slight pause. “It looks like it’s it, for now. Unless you have something to share?”
“No,” Peter said. “No. It’s just…”
“Good. By the way, do you have a cat or something? Think they’re trying to get in through that door there. Keeps on tapping away.”
I froze. I sensed the eyes of the kitchen on me. Damn it. I’d tried to be so still, but I must’ve leaned against the door. I’d drawn attention to myself. I had to hide.
“Um, yeah,” Peter said—totally throwing me off. “Yeah, I do. I’ll go see to him in a sec.”
“Aw. What’s he called?” Steve asked.
“Bill… Bryson. Bill Bryson.”
“Bill Bryson,” Steve said. “Well, that’s a lovely name for a cat. Anyway…”
I heard the door opening. Heard the footsteps departing.
But just before Steve co
uld leave, I heard him stop and turn around. “Say, you haven’t seen a rabbit wearing a collar on the loose have you?”
“A… a rabbit wearing a…?”
“Never mind. Have a great day, Peter. Or rather, as great a day as you can have. Considering the circumstances. You know. Anyway. Bye.”
I listened to the door slam shut and I waited.
And as my invisibility faded, I saw Peter open the door and glare at me.
“Talk,” he said.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Considered a few potential solutions to this situation. I could just lie. I could use a rather advanced spell to play on his mind and convince him I’d not been here at all—but that one always came with risks.
Or I could just tell the truth.
“You’ve seen how incompetent the police are,” I said. “I just figured… I figured I just wanted to help.”
Peter studied me with intense curiosity. “And what makes you so sure you can help?”
I swallowed a lump in my throat and I smiled. “It’s a long story,” I said.
I walked past him, which he allowed.
“I’m sorry about Krissy,” I said. “Truly. But we will get to the bottom of what happened to her. One way or another. I promise you that.”
Peter looked like he was going to argue. Like he was going to tell me to get off the case.
Instead, he just sighed and nodded.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I waited a few seconds. Waited until I was entirely certain Steve was gone.
Then, I opened the door and I left.
But the same question kept on spiralling my mind.
Why had Krissy been poisoned?
And why had she been stabbed after the poisoning at all?
Chapter 16
Peter watched Stella leave his house and walk down the street, and for the first time in a while, he exhaled.
He knew he was going to have to be prepared for visits. He knew he was going to have to be prepared for questions. But the reality of it all was… it was a lot more difficult to take than he’d imagined.
