Witch Swindled in Westerham

by Dionne Lister

  “Ready to learn, Lily?”

  “As always. Just don’t let me kill myself.”

  Angelica laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

  Chapter 2

  After my lesson—which had gone okay, but I still couldn’t travel by myself—I’d changed into an official PIB uniform Angelica gave me. I think I looked quite authoritative in my straight-leg black trousers, white shirt, black fitted jacket and black tie, and the cut did wonders for my athletic figure. I had broad shoulders and slightly curvy hips, which suited the PIB getup. I’d pulled my brown hair up into a ponytail and grabbed my camera bag. Since it was an official job, I had three lenses and a spare battery. I’d checked my memory card was wiped and ready to go.

  It was 6:00 p.m. Angelica and I sat in her living room while she gave me more background on the case. “We’re doing this now because the staff will have left for the day. Fewer hassles that way. The witch under investigation is Camilla Forsyth. We’re not positive if she’s acting alone or if she has human accomplices. Her staff may be operating under ignorance, but she may have a couple of them in on it. She cons pensioners into giving her their life savings to invest. She invests some of the money, and the rest she just takes. It’s not even subtle.” Angelica pursed her lips, but I couldn’t tell if she was disgusted with what the woman had done or the fact that she didn’t do it very well. “Anyway, she’s covered her tracks with magic. As far as the regular police are concerned, there’s no proof the money ever existed. She’s managed to magic away most paper and electronic trails, plus wipe the memories of the pensioners so they have a hard time remembering how much money they had. We’ve only had one client come forward because out of the blue, he decided to check old bank statements. Memory wiping doesn’t work 100 per cent on everyone, especially if you’re not an expert. So we need to find out who her clients are as well.”

  “Why doesn’t she just take all their money and run?” That seemed easier to me, but then, I wasn’t a criminal mastermind.

  “She needs time to follow the trail of money and delete everything that leads to her and the paperwork that proves the money ever existed, so by investing some of the money, she buys herself time before her victims realise what’s going on.”

  “So what am I looking for?”

  “Paperwork or images on a screen. We’ll concentrate on her desk. If you can get more than one lot of papers or any bank statements, that would be ideal.”

  “Just getting one would be a good start, considering I'm not very good at this yet.”

  At least I wouldn’t have to photograph any dead bodies or bloody crime scenes. I wasn’t sure how I would cope with that, and to be honest, every time I used my camera now, tension knotted my stomach. What if I saw something that gave me nightmares? I figured I had some control, so I always thought of butterflies and chocolate when I used my Nikon—that should keep the bad stuff away.

  Gravel crunched outside, accompanied by the quiet rumble of an engine. Angelica and I went out to the driveway. James sat in the passenger seat of William’s Range Rover. I opened the back door. Beren, sexy three-day growth covering his jaw, had a window seat in the back. He grinned, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. “If it isn’t my favourite Aussie witch. You’re rocking the new threads too.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  I laughed. My cheeks heated. One was never too old to get flustered when a hot man gave them a compliment. “Hey, Beren.”

  I climbed in and slid across the seat to give Angelica enough room to sit next to me. My thigh touched Beren’s as I clicked my seatbelt in, and he pressed his leg against mine. Was that on purpose or because his thick thighs took up a lot of space? My cheeks got hotter. It was a possibility I would spontaneously combust in a minute. I looked up to William’s serious grey-eyed gaze in the rear-view mirror. Déjà vu, anyone? He frowned, then changed his focus to the driveway as he reversed to the street.

  I took a deep breath and hugged my camera bag closer to my chest. Angelica looked at me. “Are you feeling all right, Lily? You look a little flushed.”

  Of course she’d notice. “Um, yes. Just nervous about my first assignment.”

  James cleared his throat. “Is that right?” I didn’t even have to see his cheek lifting to know he was smiling—the grin was in his voice.

  Oh, crap. I winced. He could tell when someone was lying—his innate talent. Well, it was partly true that I was nervous because of this assignment. Maybe I just had to believe it more. “Yes, that’s right.” I so wanted to lean over and punch his arm to shut him up before he said something to embarrass me. Hopefully my tone of voice was enough of a message.

  “Don’t worry, Lily.” Beren nudged me with his arm. “This is your second assignment. The proof of how well you did your first assignment is right there.” He leaned towards me, reached out and smacked James in the side of the head.

  “Hey, ow, man.” James rubbed his scalp.

  Ha, take that, big brother. “You make an excellent point, B. Thanks.” I grinned.

  He grinned back. “The pleasure was all mine.” No, it wasn’t. Trust me.

  We weren’t in the car for long. William drove to the outskirts of town, to a two-storey brick terrace. We had to park around the corner as there was no street parking. We all got out. James took the lead with William and Beren next, and Angelica stayed beside me. “Got your camera ready?” she asked.

  “Yep.” I took the lens cap off and jammed it into my pocket, then flicked the camera on.

  The sign screwed to the front door said Camilla Forsyth Investment Solutions. That name was familiar. Where had I heard it before?

  James knocked on the door, a piece of paper in one hand. The door opened.

  That’s where I knew the name from!

  It was Camilla from the café this morning: aka Miss Werewolf-nails. I congratulated myself on being a good judge of character. The fact she was a criminal and didn’t earn her Chanel bag fairly wasn’t surprising after her performance this morning. She smiled seductively at James before extending it over his shoulder at Beren and William. “Can I help you handsome men?” Her voice was all husky, not at all like the snarkiness from this morning. I kind of felt embarrassed for her. Wait till she found out they weren’t here to ask her on a date. Would it be rude of me to get some photos of the moment?

  “Are you Camilla Forsyth, investment broker?”

  She put her palm to her chest, showing off her talons. “Why, yes, I am. What can I do for you? Are you looking to invest?” Wow, she was even willing to rip off these guys. Either she was really good at magicking away the evidence or she wasn’t nearly as smart as Angelica gave her credit for.

  “Are any of your employees still here?”

  She furrowed her forehead. “No, why?”

  James held up the warrant. “I have a warrant to search your premises. We’re from the Paranormal Investigation Bureau. Please step aside.”

  Her smile faltered. “What? Where? The Paranormal what?” Was she playing dumb, or did some witches not know about the PIB?

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Miss Forsyth. If you don’t let us in, one of my colleagues will arrest you for obstructing an investigation.” There was my answer.

  William held up his cuffs and jangled them. I shuddered. I’d had my fill of handcuffs for the rest of my life.

  Camilla folded her arms. “What’s this about?”

  “You’re under investigation for fraud. This is your last chance to step out of the way, Miss Forsyth.” Wow, my brother was tough when he wanted to be.

  She snatched the warrant papers and stalked back into the building, leaving the door open for the rest of us to enter. The guys hurried through the reception area and fanned out. There was much stomping and doors opening and closing. It sounded like kids running riot, but without the laughing and screaming.

  “Wait here, Lily.” Angelica left me in the front reception room and followed James further into the house. Should I start taking photos or should I wait to b
e asked? We didn’t have all night. May as well start now.

  Footsteps clacked on the timber floor. “I thought I recognised you.” Camilla planted her feet shoulder-width apart and folded her arms, the paperwork dangling from one hand. “Were you following me?”

  So, maybe I wouldn’t be starting those photos just yet. No matter, I was sure I could annoy her while I waited for Angelica to return. “No. I was having coffee, and a chocolate muffin, which was delish, by the way. You should try one some time. They’re totally worth a little extra booty.”

  “Booty? Why are you using that word? You don’t sound American.”

  “I’m not, but I like the word. Booty, booty, booty.” I smiled. She didn’t. “Booty.” Hmm, still nothing. Meh, she was no fun. “Is this where your receptionist sits?” I pointed to the lime-washed timber desk, which had normal office paraphernalia neatly organised on it.

  “What do you think?”

  I could tell her what I thought, about her in particular, but I’d probably get into trouble from Angelica. I had to be professional. Maybe I should’ve thought of that before taunting her with my booty. I snorted. I really was funny; it was a shame she didn’t appreciate me. Her lips pursed.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Thanks.” I brought my camera to my face and studied the desk through the viewfinder.

  “What are you doing? There’s nothing in here about taking photos.” She shook the papers above her head, just in case I didn’t notice them. Dramatic much?

  Another set of shoes clomped in. “It’s in the fine print. Part of normal procedure, Miss Forsyth.” Angelica to the rescue. She handed me a pair of rubber gloves. “Put these on. Start with that desk, Lily, and don’t be afraid to open drawers.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” I slipped the gloves on and got to work by focusing my thoughts on investment paperwork. Hopefully that would be enough. A yellow manila folder appeared on the desk, but it was closed. I walked around the other side of the desk and took a picture of it right-side up. O’Connell 2017/18 was written neatly in black marker on the front. I opened all three drawers and looked inside. Staples, pens, pencils, highlighters, Post-its. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  I lowered the camera. “Which room next?”

  “We’ll start with her associate’s office. He’s not a witch, but from what we know, he’s invested some of the money from those who’ve been swindled.” Angelica gave Camilla an I’m-coming-for-you glare, then turned and led me to an office off the hallway. The click, click, click of Camilla’s heels echoed as she followed closely. She must be crapping herself. Was it bad that this brought happiness to my heart? I really needed to work on my empathy. Maybe I’d start tomorrow.

  Baby-blue walls radiated calm. A red leather office chair sat on one side of the shiny-topped walnut table, and two dark blue chairs sat on the other. A little golden plaque on the table, facing the guest chairs, read Ernest Smythe. So, that was our other suspect, the non-witch one.

  I wondered if he knew she was a witch. Had she coerced him with the promise of the normal stuff—money, sex, or blackmail—or did she trap him in a spell? She could even have planted thoughts in his head. Apparently my brother could do that—talk people into stuff they didn’t want to do—but it wasn’t his style. It wasn’t something witches were allowed to do, either. If he was caught doing it, even to help solve a crime, he could go to jail. Not to mention, most witches had a spell to counteract mind coercion. Except, I didn’t. My eyes widened. I’d have to learn that one as soon as possible. Just in case.

  Camilla pushed past me and stood in front of the desk. “There’s nothing here. You’re wasting your time.”

  Angelica walked to the filing cabinet and opened the first drawer. “Then why are you so worried?”

  “I’m not. I’m very good at what I do.” Camilla folded her arms and turned to watch Angelica, who was pulling folders out. There actually weren’t that many. Seemed Camilla might be right, but she didn’t know about my skills.

  I went to the other side of the desk and looked through my camera. Who have you ripped off? Show me the files. I listened for the hum of power that witches had access to. It filled my head, slid over my body, and I breathed it in, immersed myself in the warm, slightly prickly sensation. Two open files appeared on the table. I wasn’t going to waste time reading the whole thing, but there were three pages laid out. I clicked away.

  “Why are you photographing an empty desk?”

  I finished what I was doing and looked at Camilla. “It’s a potential crime scene. Isn’t that obvious?” I wore my most innocent expression. I knew she had no idea of what I could do, but it was fun messing with her. Plus, Angelica wanted my secret skills to remain as secret as possible. There was no sense telling all the criminals I could spy on what they’d done in the past. I was sure the price on my head would go up if everyone knew. Crap. I hadn’t thought of that before. It was bad enough having my parents’ enemies after me; now I had to worry about everywitch else.

  Angelica looked at me. “Are you okay, dear?”

  “Um, yeah. I just can’t remember if I switched the iron off this morning.”

  She gave me a weird look. Probably because she’d given me my clothes crease free. Being a witch, she probably didn’t even own an iron. Surely there was a spell for dewrinkling clothes.

  Camilla laughed. “You call yourself a witch, and you still use a conventional iron like a plain old human?”

  I shrugged. “I like to keep things real.” Tuning everyone out, I opened the bottom desk drawer first. Paperwork would most likely be there since all the stuff you needed daily should be the easiest to access, i.e. in the top drawer. There were a few files. I took them out for Angelica to go over later; then I used my camera on the “empty” drawer. A pile of files appeared, but I could only read the title on the first manila folder: McMaster 2015/16. Click. Seemed this racket had been going on for a while. I wondered when Camilla had started buying Chanel handbags and having her nails talonified? The PIB was probably all over her bank accounts and spending habits. That’s probably part of how they’d come to this point.

  The next two drawers had nothing of relevance, so I stood against the wall behind the desk and pointed my camera at the room.

  “I didn’t give you permission to photograph me.” Camilla glared at me.

  “Well, get out of the way, then. Go bother the guys. I’m sure they’re doing way more interesting stuff.” I wondered if they’d found anything.

  She spun and strode out. The atmosphere in the room relaxed noticeably. Angelica rustled through the filing cabinet while I focussed on my job. I whispered, “Show me the relationship between Camilla and Mr. Smythe.” The two of them popped into his chair, and I stepped back and slammed into the wall. Doh! Would I ever get used to these images popping in and out? It was disconcerting, because it was in 3D, like they were really there, albeit frozen in time.

  I walked to the other side of the desk so I could see them from the front. He looked to be in his late twenties, a couple of years younger than her. His dark hair was slicked back with some kind of product—it looked oily, to be honest. Not my thing. They were both fully clothed, thank God, but his red tie was on the desk and his three top shirt buttons undone. She had her hand against his bare chest. Her face was tilted up to his. Her eyes were closed, their lips almost touching. So it was sex. He looked pretty into it, with his hand on her boob, so I didn’t think blackmail was going to factor into it.

  Click. Click.

  I lowered the camera and shut my eyes, kind of resetting myself. When I opened my eyes, they were gone. Thank God for small mercies. I went around to the other side again and concentrated on the desk. An open laptop appeared, Mr. Smythe sitting in his chair staring at the screen, his hands poised above the keyboard. A bank webpage was open on the screen. Click. I shut my eyes, willed the information to change, and opened my eyes again. A new page appeared on the screen, and Smythe wore a white shirt instead of the blue one he had on just a m
oment ago. Wow, this was cool, except maybe I’d be here all day now. Yikes.

  After getting six different web pages to appear, the images stopped coming. I looked up. Angelica watched me with a carefully blank expression. I hardly ever knew what was going on in her head—she was the master of concealing her thoughts.

  “I’m done.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it here.”

  “Good idea. Let’s move to the next office then.” She started for the door.

  It was going to be a long afternoon.

  Three hours later, we walked out the door, which Camilla slammed behind us, the noise echoing down the street. Someone was cranky, and it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

  It’d possibly been a fruitful search, if the number of photos I’d taken were anything to go by. I didn’t know if what I’d captured was criminal stuff or normal, but we’d soon find out. Well, the PIB would. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be privy to that information.

  We weren’t actually far from home. It would take me maybe ten minutes to walk. I took the memory card out of my camera and handed it to Angelica. “Take this. I’m going to walk home.” I’d gone for a run that morning, but I felt like some fresh air after being in that building all evening. It was still light enough to see—the sun went down late over here in late spring and summer. Even in the middle of summer in Sydney, our sunsets happened around eight or eight thirty.

  “I don’t want you walking home alone at this time of night,” James said.

  I clenched my jaw. I’d taken care of myself for far too long for him to be trying to manage my life now. “I’m a little bit too old for you to boss around. I’d like some fresh air.”

  James stood closer and spoke quietly. “You’re not safe, Lily. Please don’t give me extra stuff to worry about.”

  “What other stuff do you have to worry about? I would’ve thought work was old news by now.”