by Morgana Best
I had already answered that question, but I did so again. “None. I only met her today, for the first time.”
“What were you doing here today?”
“Happy Valley Gardens asked me if I would cater this community event. I was happy to do so.”
“Have you visited these premises before?” Detective Scott asked me, scribbling furiously in his notepad.
“No, this is my first time here.”
“And who is responsible for making the cakes?” Morrison said.
“Thyme, my assistant, made the cakes, and I did the frosting.” My heart was in my mouth. It was clear they thought Celia had been poisoned.
“Did anyone have access to the cakes besides the two of you?” Scott said, still scribbling away.
I thought for a moment. “Not until we came here, but after we came here anyone would have had access to them. The cakes were in the kitchen, while Thyme and I were in here talking to the residents, so I suppose any of the nursing staff or any of the kitchen staff had access to them at that time. Anyway, there’s something important I have to tell you. Just after Celia fell to the floor, I looked at her. I mean, everyone in the room did.” I paused to take a deep breath. “I saw a white substance in the middle of her cake. It was a chocolate cupcake, so it stood out. We hadn’t put any sort of centres in the cakes.”
“And you’re sure there were no centres in any of the cakes?” Scott asked me.
“Of course I’m sure!” I said indignantly. “Of course we know whether we put centres in or not.”
Scott tapped his pen on the desk. “You said your assistant baked the cakes. Perhaps she put centres in them?”
I shook my head. “No, she certainly didn’t. Anyway, you can ask her that yourself.”
“Yes, we will.” Scott’s tone sounded ominous. “Please don’t mention the white substance to anyone. Now tell us about this white substance. Take your time, and think carefully.”
I shut my eyes and tried to recreate the scene. “Well, I was really too shocked to take it in. She’d eaten most of the chocolate cake and there was only a little left, but there was some white stuff in the middle. It wasn’t the frosting, because all the chocolate cupcakes had chocolate frosting on them. Plus it looked like a hard, not soft, sort of powder.”
“And how far were you away from the victim?” Scott asked me.
“I’m not too good at guessing distances, but I was as far away as from that end of the room to that end.” I pointed as I said it.
Scott nodded. “Go on.”
I shrugged. “Well that’s all, really. It only vaguely occurred to me at the time that there shouldn’t have been any white stuff in the middle of the cupcake. Oh, and there was a lot of it. If we’d made any marble cupcakes, I could have even thought one side was chocolate and the other part was white, only we didn’t make any marble cupcakes,” I hastened to add. “So the white powder was something that shouldn’t have been in the chocolate cupcake.”
“And your chocolate cupcakes were solid all through?” Scott said. I nodded, but before I could speak, he added, “And you were the only store that provided cupcakes today?”
I nodded.
Morrison fixed me with a glare. “What is your relationship to Paul Addams?”
“Why, none of course!” I said in horror. “I met him for the first time today.”
Scott looked up from his scribbling. “Are you sure of that?”
“Yes, of course I’m sure,” I said defensively. “And he’d never even been into my store. He said so himself today.”
The detectives continued to make notes, leaving me sitting there, nervous. Finally, I spoke. “So, was Celia murdered?”
Detective Morrison looked up at me. “Why would you say that?”
I shrugged. “Surely it’s obvious. I’m sure detectives don’t come out to every death at this aged care facility. Plus she seemed fine one minute, and the next minute… well, you know, she was on the floor. And then there was the white stuff in her cupcake.”
“Please tell us everything you saw pertaining to Mrs Carmichael leading up to the moment of her death,” Morrison said, waving his hand at me. “Take your time. Think carefully.”
I rubbed my head to ease the throbbing in my temples. “She was being very rude to everyone.”
Scott interrupted me. “Who precisely do you mean by ‘everyone’?”
“Well, me, Thyme, all the residents, and that poor old lady sitting next to her, Edith. She even slapped her hand. She wasn’t overly rude to her grandson, but Jane, the nurse, had to reprimand her a few times for her behaviour.”
“Go on.” Morrison looked back down at his notes.
“I did see her drink out of a hip flask.” Morrison’s pen hovered over his notepad at that point, but if the two of them were surprised, they gave no sign. “Go on,” Morrison said again.
“I was surprised to see she was drinking out of a hip flask. Apart from that, nothing out of the ordinary happened.”
“Did you offer her any cakes?” Morrison asked me.
I nodded. “Yes. Everyone offered her cakes: me, Thyme, Paul, and Edith, Jane the nurse, and I remember one of the other residents holding out a plate to her as well.”
They continued to make notes and ignored me for a time. “Did you find the hip flask on her?” I asked.
Detective Scott stood up suddenly. “I’ll take you back to the others now, Ms Spelled. I’ll ask you to remain there until we inform you that you may leave.”
I nodded. No sooner was I back in the room, than Detective Scott summoned Thyme for questioning. Jane was crying softly, and Paul had his arm around her. I wondered again if something was going on between them. Still, it was likely something as innocent as a man comforting a woman he knew, but I couldn’t be sure. I wondered if the poison had been in the hip flask or whether it had been in one of my cupcakes, and if it had been in one of my cupcakes, then how did it get there? And what sort of poison could kill someone so quickly?
I texted Alder to bring him up to speed, and was about to text Ruprecht, when I had an incoming text from him. Thyme must have filled him in. Ruprecht wanted us both to go straight to his place. That suited me fine—it would be good to debrief. I was quite shaken thinking that someone had been murdered right in front of me. I really wanted another sugary cup of tea to soothe my nerves, but no one offered me one. The remains of my old cup had gone cold.
If Celia had been poisoned, and that poison had been administered orally rather than by injection, then the poison had to be in one of my cupcakes or the hip flask. Still, there was nothing I could do about it now but wait for Thyme to return and wait for the detectives to tell us we could leave. I sat there, in the cold clinical room, with Paul comforting a tearful Jane.
I had my phone on silent, but felt it vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the Caller ID. Alder. “Hello,” I whispered.
“Amelia, are you all right?” His voice was filled with concern.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “The police have already questioned me and they’re questioning Thyme now. I’m sitting in a room with the lady’s grandson and a nurse, waiting for Thyme to be questioned. The police said they’d let us know when we could go.”
“Oh, I see.” I knew Alder would catch onto the fact that he could be overheard by others in the room.
“Ruprecht invited us over as soon as the police let us go,” I said. “Would you like to come, too? Only if you’re feeling up to it,” I added.
“Of course, I’ll be there. When?”
“I don’t quite know,” I whispered. “They questioned me for ages, and Thyme has only just gone in. Plus I don’t know how long they intend to keep us here.”
“I shouldn’t imagine they’ll keep you there much longer at all,” Alder said. “Okay, how about you text me when you’re about to leave and I’ll head straight over to Ruprecht’s then?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
Chapter 5
I was a
lways filled with a sense of wonderment when I entered Ruprecht’s store, Glinda’s, a combination antique and bookstore. Glinda’s always reminded me of Hogwarts, in particular, of Dumbledore’s office. It was even complete with a large claw-footed desk and a wizard’s hat. Ruprecht’s residence was adjacent to his store, although was not guarded by gargoyles, or fronted by moving stone staircases—at least, not as far as I knew. What’s more, it was always filled with the heady scent of burning eucalyptus leaves and the tinkling of many wind chimes. It was a magical place, on any level.
As my hand reached for the door, it opened, and a beaming Ruprecht stood on the other side. “You’re just in time,” he said with a smile, looking ever so much like Dumbledore himself. “The others are all here.”
Thyme and I followed Ruprecht through his store and out to the back room where we’d had many a conversation over murders, and there had been far too many in Bayberry Creek. We made our way past many curious antique instruments, an aludel, a condenser used in alchemy, several alembics, and a rather strange looking musical instrument.
Ruprecht noted my hesitation. “It’s a Nyckelharpa,” he said. “It’s a stringed instrument.”
“I can see that, sort of,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ruprecht nodded. “I played it years ago, and thought I would take it up again. I know it looks like a violin, but really, it’s more closely related to the hurdy-gurdy, of course.”
“Oh, um,” I stammered. I had no suitable reply. Ruprecht continued on, extolling the virtues of the Nyckelharpa, until we came to the kitchen. I smiled when I saw Alder, who was sitting next to Mint. I greeted everyone and then went around the table to sit between Alder and Camino, who thankfully was wearing her street clothes. Alder put his arm around me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, and snuggled closer, taking in his mysterious scent of cloves, old white sage, and amber. Alder always seemed mysterious. I knew he was a powerful witch, but so was I, and I doubted I appeared mysterious to anyone at all. On the other hand, there was something about Alder.
“Would everyone like some liquorice tea?” Camino asked. “It’s ever so good for gas. Even better than a good dose of activated charcoal.”
I didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so nodded my head only after others did first. I did like the taste of liquorice tea, strong and pungent with a little sweetness.
“Of course, if you use liquorice in spells, it’s good for controlling and dominating someone and bending them to your will,” Camino said. “If we have any trouble with those new detectives, I’ll add some liquorice root and calamus to a spell, and perhaps some sweetness like sugar as well, to sweeten their attitude to us,” she added thoughtfully.
“New detectives?” Alder said. “Whatever happened to Detectives Greene and Jones?”
I shrugged, and shot a look at Thyme. “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said. “What with everything going on, I didn’t like to ask the detectives. Besides, they might have asked me how I knew the other detectives so well.”
Ruprecht interjected. “It’s unusual to have the same detectives in a small country town like this for too long. No doubt Greene and Jones have gone back to Sydney, and these ones are their replacements. Did they seem like reasonable people to you, Amelia?”
I thought it over. “I suppose so. They just seem to be going about their business. When Camino comes back, I’ll tell you all about it.” I noticed Thyme was looking crestfallen. “They surely wouldn’t replace the constable and sergeant, would they, Ruprecht?” I said.
Ruprecht shook his head. “No, those are stable positions.” We both looked at Thyme, who brightened considerably. Thyme had a crush on Constable Dawson.
Camino set a cup of liquorice tea in front of everyone, and then placed a large carrot cake in the centre of the table, along with a knife.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring any leftovers,” I said, “but the police bagged them all.”
“Do you really think one of them had been poisoned by someone there?” Thyme asked me.
Camino held up her hand. “Girls, do you mind bringing the rest of us up to speed? Give us the nitty gritties.”
I took a sip of my tea before speaking. “The potted summary is that Thyme and I went to the community morning tea event at the aged care facility.” I stopped and looked around the table. “You all knew we were going.” They all nodded, and I pushed on. “When we got there, there were the nurses, the residents, and the only person who wasn’t a resident was Paul, the victim’s grandson. The victim was a particularly rude, unpleasant woman.”
“How old was she?” Camino said.
“The nurse, Jane, told me Celia was nearly ninety, but you’d never guess to look at her,” I said. “Apparently she’d grown up on a farm—she’d run a sheep farm for years. She looked to be a very strong woman.”
“Probably from wrestling sheep,” Camino said absently. “A sheep can knock you over and give you concussion as soon as look at you. They’re not the cute cuddly animals that everyone thinks they are. Don’t be misled by their sweet, innocent faces.”
“Err, yes. Anyway, Celia seemed to be bullying her best friend, Edith, who was quite frail looking. After Celia insulted everyone, she just dropped dead.”
Ruprecht raised his eyebrows. “Surely there must be more to it?”
Thyme agreed with me. “That was pretty much it. We served everyone cupcakes and then Celia verbally abused Edith, the old lady sitting next to her, and the next thing we knew Celia was on the ground, instantly dead, just like that.” Thyme snapped her fingers. “Now the interesting thing is, Amelia saw white powder in the cupcake that was in Celia’s hand when she died.”
“White powder?” Alder said. “What sort of white powder?”
“I wasn’t all that close to her at the time,” I pointed out. “I was across the room. I didn’t take much notice at the time what with the poor woman just dead, but I saw white powder in the middle of the chocolate cake. I registered that it was strange because Thyme didn’t put any filling in any cupcakes, did you, Thyme?”
“I sure did not!” Thyme said emphatically. “If those cops asked me that once, they asked me a thousand times!”
“So I guess the murderer did it,” I said. “There was chocolate frosting on the chocolate cake and a lot of white powder in the middle.”
“There was a lot of the white substance, you say?” Alder asked me.
I rubbed my forehead. “Well, it was as if someone had mixed it through the batter and it hadn’t dissolved. I’m a terrible witness, aren’t I!”
“Just remain calm and take deep breaths. Try to visualise what you saw,” Ruprecht said in a soothing tone.
“Yes, it looked as if someone had cut a piece of the cake open and put some powder inside, and then pushed the frosting over the top,” I said.
Ruprecht tapped his chin. “That meant someone had to have the opportunity to do that to the cake. Who was present, Amelia?”
“Well, us obviously. And there was Edith, who sat next to Celia the whole time. I didn’t see her leave the room, did you?” I asked Thyme.
Thyme shook her head. “Oh wait, I think she did take a bathroom break, and she was clutching a rather large bag. She was coughing fairly badly at times. They said she was recovering from the flu.”
“And then there were all the nurses, too. Oh, and I saw Celia drink out of a hip flask. Of course, I told the police about the hip flask and the white powder. By the way, they told me I couldn’t tell anyone about the white powder, so keep it to yourselves. Perhaps someone put the poison in her hip flask, but then again, what on earth was that white powder in the cupcake?” I looked around the table, but everyone shrugged.
“Thyme, you didn’t have anything in the cupcakes that could look like white powder?” Ruprecht asked her. “No almond shavings, nothing like that?”
Thyme shook her head. “Absolutely not. The cupcakes were plain chocolate. Happy Valley Gardens told
us we couldn’t use any nuts at all. It’s their policy, due to all the allergies to nuts these days. We had to be super careful.”
“I don’t suppose Celia was allergic to nuts?” Ruprecht asked us.
“No idea,” I said, “but that’s something we should find out. Still, it didn’t look like shaved almonds, but then again, it’s possible it was some sort of crushed nuts, like crushed cashew nuts.”
“And does the grandson stand to gain from the inheritance?” Ruprecht asked us.
“You know, I came close to asking him that, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it,” I admitted. “All I know is, that she was his grandmother and he didn’t have any siblings. But if she was ninety and had a lot of health problems, why would he murder her? Wouldn’t he just wait until she died of natural causes?”
Alder spoke up. “You’d be surprised what pushes people to murder. Maybe he had pressing financial difficulties and couldn’t wait. That’s something we’ll need to look into.”
I was concerned. “So you do think we need to investigate? Can’t we leave it up to the police? Do you think it’s going to look like I murdered her?”
“I hardly think the police would accuse you of murdering the woman,” Ruprecht said thoughtfully. “After all, they’d have to prove that you had met her before or prove that you’re some kind of homicidal maniac. No, the worse they could get you for was manslaughter and say that you were somehow negligent with the cake store.” He must have caught the expression on my face, because he hurried to continue. “I’m sure it won’t come to that. If she was in fact poisoned—and we don’t know that for sure at this point—then the poison was likely in her hip flask. Even if the poison was the white powder in the cake, it will be apparent to the police that someone added that to the cake.”
I shot a look at Alder, but he looked worried. “So should we leave it up to the police this time then?” I said, wincing as I said the words ‘this time.’ Most people hadn’t been around a single murder in their entire lifetime, and I had been around several now.
