Harper Grant 03-A Witchy Christmas

by DS Butler

  As Bernie mentioned my grandmother, his face took on a dreamy look, and I scowled.

  “That’s quite enough of that, Bernie. She isn’t interested.”

  “How do you know?” Bernie asked, looking hurt.

  “Trust me, I know.”

  As before, when we walked through town, I ignored everything Bernie said, even though at times, I was sure he was trying to tempt me to talk to him. If I was spotted, that would certainly get the gossips of Abbott Cove talking about my family again.

  It wasn’t until we reached the recreation ground that I finally turned to Bernie. I couldn’t see anyone around, so I figured it was safe to talk.

  “It looks like you were wrong. There’s no sign of Boris. Perhaps he has taken up a different hobby.”

  The recreation area had a track and a tennis court toward the back near the school, but there was no sign of anyone doing any kind of exercise today. We’d had a wasted journey.

  “I suppose we could call at his house and see if he is home. Although, I guess he may have left town for Christmas to spend it with relatives.”

  Bernie frowned and folded his arms over his chest. He looked annoyed that he’d been wrong about Boris Barrymore’s habits.

  “People change, Bernie,” I told him. “When was the last time you spoke to Boris?”

  “Spoke to him? A few years ago I suppose.”

  “Well, that’s plenty of time for him to change his habits. Perhaps he likes to exercise in the evenings now.”

  Bernie shook his head and scanned the horizon, refusing to accept he’d been wrong.

  I was starting to think Boris Barrymore was an unlikely suspect if he hadn’t spoken to Bernie for years.

  Did somebody really hold a grudge for all that time and then out of the blue lose it?

  “I know Sandy was trying to help,” I said. “But if you haven’t spoken for years, I don’t see what could have driven him to have homicidal tendencies all of a sudden.”

  “Ah, well, when I say we haven’t spoken… Strictly speaking, that’s true, but Boris has yelled at me more recently than that.”

  I narrowed my eyes as I looked at Bernie. Why was he hiding things from me? For one thing, I was bound to find out, and for another, I was actually trying to help him.

  “Let me rephrase that. When was the last time Boris yelled at you?”

  “It was a couple of weeks ago, in the post office. In fact, he yells every time he sees me. I think he has a temper problem. He used to fly off the handle over the smallest little thing when we worked together.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t think he could be a suspect? He sounds like one to me.”

  Bernie looked like he was going to argue but then he smiled confidently and pointed behind me.

  I turned to see what he was pointing at and saw a tall, lean man, marching toward us. His arms were pumping at his sides, and he wore knee-high socks and a sweatband around his forehead. He looked like an 80’s throwback.

  He walked so quickly that his hips swayed from side to side, and I thought maybe he had an affliction.

  “Why is he walking like that?” I muttered, using my hand to hide my mouth.

  “It’s called race walking. That’s how they do it. They have to keep their legs straight apparently, and it gives them that funny waddling look.”

  Well, you learn something new every day.

  I stepped to the side as Boris approached, thinking he was going to stomp right over me. “Ah, Mr. Barrymore, I am sorry to bother you in the middle of your exercise session, but I hoped I could have a quick word with you.”

  Boris slowed down and finally came to a stop right in front of me. He was a very tall man, and he towered over me, his dark eyes glinting.

  For a moment I thought he was going to shout at me for interrupting his exercise, but instead, he irritably said, “Make it quick.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I just wondered if you had heard the news about Bernie Crouch?”

  To my surprise, Boris actually smiled. “I did. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t reply because I was so taken aback. He certainly had a motive for killing Bernie, but if he really was the killer, would he say he was glad Bernie was dead? Or was this some kind of double bluff?

  “Oh, did you not get on with Bernie?”

  Boris frowned. “No. Horrible man. No morals, at all.”

  “Hey! Just wait a minute.” Bernie floated right up into Boris’s face. “My morals are perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

  There was nothing I could do to stop Bernie, so I continued my questioning. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who may have done it?”

  Boris scowled as he looked down at me. “Oh, you’re that young woman who likes to stick her nose into police business, aren’t you? I have heard all about you.”

  What a cheek! It was down to me that the last two murders in Abbot Cove had been solved.

  I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Boris began talking about Bernie again.

  “I’m not sure you’ll get very far. He seemed to annoy everybody in the cove at one time or another. He cheated me out of a business deal. Then there’s his poor wife he cheated on for years, not to mention all the angry husbands furious with him for cheating with their wives.”

  “This is slander!” Bernie shouted. “I’m no saint, but at least I’m not a sanctimonious, exercise addict who walks like a duck!”

  I was speechless.

  Boris smirked. “Good luck. I think you’re going to need it.”

  And with that, Boris set off again, elbows bouncing at his sides with his strange waddling walk.

  “Well, that wasn’t as helpful as I had hoped,” I muttered and then I turned and saw a police cruiser coming to a stop beside the recreation ground.

  Oh, no.

  Boris Barrymore was still in view, and Chief Wickham and Joe were bound to think I’d been interfering in the investigation, which technically I suppose I had, but that wasn’t the point.

  Chief Wickham got out of the vehicle first. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and looked sternly at me.

  “Merry Christmas, Harper. What are you doing out here by the recreation ground?”

  Joe got out of the police cruiser, and I shot him a quick smile.

  “I just wanted to get some fresh air. We have family for lunch, and I thought it was a good idea to build up a bit of an appetite.”

  Joe jerked his thumb in the direction of the retreating figure of Boris Barrymore. “So it’s purely a coincidence that you were just talking to Boris Barrymore? You just happened to run into him, and it had nothing to do with the investigation?”

  I gulped.

  “What investigation?” I said, trying to sound innocent.

  Perhaps that had been going just a little too far.

  Chief Wickham shook his head. “Get off home, Harper. If I catch you talking to any more witnesses or suspects, I will write you a ticket.”

  I frowned, about to argue. What sort of ticket could he write me? I was sure I wasn’t doing anything illegal, but from the look on the chief and Joe’s faces, I decided I would be better off not arguing my case right now.

  I smiled and waved at them. “Okay, Merry Christmas. See you later, Joe.”

  As I walked past them, I heard Chief Wickham say, “See you later? What does she mean?”

  “Oh, I forgot to mention it. I’m having lunch with the Grants,” Joe said.

  “Oh, you are, are you?”

  I cringed at the disapproval in the chief’s tone.

  “Just you make sure you treat Harper well,” Chief Wickham said sternly. “I’ve known the Grant family for years. Harper’s a lovely young woman and not the type to be messed around, do you hear?”

  My cheeks burned with humiliation as I kept walking, determined to keep up the pretense that this wasn’t happening. I wanted the ground to swallow me up.

  “Ah, isn’t that nice?” Bernie said as
he hovered along beside me. “The chief is looking out for you.”

  “Bernie?”

  “Yes, Harper?”

  “Please, stop talking.”

  “Charming.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Still smarting from my humiliation, I marched quickly up the hill toward my cottage.

  “I don’t know why you’re so angry,” Bernie said. “I think it’s sweet that the chief was telling his deputy to treat you well.”

  I tried to ignore Bernie, but it wasn’t easy when he was flying in circles around my head.

  “I’m angry because it is nobody else’s business. It’s humiliating. Now, can we talk about something else? How about Boris Barrymore’s reaction to your death? I thought that was a little suspicious.”

  I couldn’t believe Boris had actually admitted he was glad Bernie had been murdered. That was pretty low. His reaction combined with the fact he seemed to be a little creepy made it easy for me to believe he could be the murderer.

  Bernie shrugged. “Boris wasn’t very pleasant, but then I didn’t really expect anything else. He didn’t like me much when we were in business together, and after I had cut the deal without him, he despised me.” Bernie frowned. “I tried to mend bridges, but he wouldn’t budge an inch. Well, you saw what he was like, Harper. The man is completely unreasonable.”

  I had to agree. Boris appeared to be a very difficult character to get along with. Not that I could imagine Bernie Crouch being an ideal business partner either.

  “So is he top of our suspect list?” I asked.

  Bernie pulled a face. “I’m not sure. He is a difficult son of-”

  “Language, Bernie!” I chastised.

  “Sorry,” Bernie said looking contrite. “He’s not a very nice person, but what happened between us occurred years ago. Nothing has happened recently that would drive him to kill me. At least, nothing I can think of.”

  I nodded. Boris certainly had a motive, but Bernie was right. It was a very old one.

  “I suppose he may have spent the last few years plotting his revenge in elaborate detail,” Bernie mused.

  I paused as we reached the outside of my cottage. “If he had been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment, surely he wouldn’t have picked Santa Claus’s grotto in the diner? There were so many people around. The risk of getting caught must have been very high.”

  “Ah, but he didn’t get caught, did he? Perhaps he carried out the perfect murder.”

  I shook my head as I opened the front door to my cottage and called out for Smudge. I didn’t believe there was any such thing as a perfect murder.

  Smudge greeted me by curling around my ankles. My cat had a completely different personality to Athena, Grandma Grant’s cat. She was sweet natured and obedient, and when I called her name, she came trotting up to the front door. Athena, on the other hand, would have stayed exactly where she was and expected me to come and find her.

  I picked Smudge up ready to take her to Grandma Grant’s for our Christmas lunch. My parents and sister, Lily, hadn’t met my cat yet, and I was sure that Lily would adore Smudge. Luckily, Athena hadn’t kicked up much fuss when she was introduced to Smudge. She allowed the other cat into her kingdom with an air of tolerant boredom.

  After I had locked up and started to walk to Grandma Grant’s house, I turned to Bernie and said, “At least we know the chief and deputy McGrady are looking into Boris Barrymore already. If he is guilty, I’m sure they will find the evidence to prove it.”

  Although I didn’t say anything to Bernie, I was very glad the chief and deputy McGrady were looking into Boris. If he hadn’t yet been on their radar, I would have been forced to give his name, and that meant I would have to admit to talking to Bernie’s ex-wife, Sandy. That would have definitely tipped them off to the fact I’d been investigating when they’d expressly told me not to.

  “I hope so,” Bernie said. “It’s infuriating hanging around here, knowing someone in Abbot Cove killed me and yet I can’t remember who it was. Do you think my memory will come back?”

  I wasn’t sure why, but in every case I had dealt with so far, ghosts who had been murdered couldn’t remember the events leading up to their death. Perhaps it was because it was such a traumatic experience, but I couldn’t say for sure that caused the memory loss.

  “Maybe,” I said not wanting Bernie to lose hope.

  When we walked inside the Grant family house, I smiled happily. The house smelled of Christmas, pine needles, cinnamon and spices. The Christmas tree looked fantastic now, and there was no sign of its previous trauma. The spell Grandma Grant and Jess had cast had definitely done the trick. I tucked a couple of presents beneath the tree and then wandered into the kitchen.

  Grandma Grant didn’t appear to be quite so calm now. She was still wearing her red, woolen dress, but it was mostly covered up by the sensible apron she wore over the top. She was gazing at the kitchen counter, which was straining under the weight of the various dishes piled on its surface. I was sure Grandma Grant had cooked more food for this Christmas lunch than we cooked at the diner each day. Grandma Grant barked another order at Jess, who looked just as harassed as she did.

  “Wow, you have been busy,” I said.

  Bernie swooped in front of me, trying to smell each of the dishes of food. “This looks amazing!”

  Jess narrowed her eyes as she looked at me. “I hope you’re going to help now that you have finally returned.”

  I pushed up the sleeves of my shirt. “Sure, what do you need me to do?”

  “Nothing,” Grandma Grant said. “Everything is prepared. All we have to do now is wait for our guests to arrive.”

  I took a closer look at some of the plates of food. Everything looked mouthwatering… And smelled delicious, which made me suspicious.

  “Is this all… er… natural?”

  “If you are trying to ask me if I used magic, then the answer is no,” Grandma Grant snapped. “I’ve already told you that I had promised not to use magic today, and I meant it. Besides, recipes aren’t really so hard. It’s just following a list of instructions and ingredients, much like making a potion.”

  That was easy for her to say. I was rubbish at making potions, which probably explained my lack of skills in the kitchen area, too.

  Bernie picked up a decanter of brandy, took off the stopper and breathed in deeply. The fact that Jess and Grandma Grant both yelled at him made him almost drop the crystal decanter.

  “That is exactly the sort of thing you can’t do today, Bernie,” I said. “You will give everyone the fright of their lives. No one else can see you. They’ll just see objects floating and get freaked out.”

  Bernie’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I forgot.”

  He looked at the brandy miserably. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to watch you all eating and drinking. I’m not even allowed to talk to anybody. It’s going to be a wretched Christmas.”

  “It’s not a question of not being allowed to talk, Bernie. Only I can hear you. I know it won’t be nice watching us eating Christmas lunch when you can’t join in. If you think you would find it easier, you can go back to the cottage.”

  I added that last sentence hopefully. It would definitely make our lives easier today if Bernie wasn’t around. I felt bad for excluding him at Christmas, but I didn’t like our chances of trying to keep Bernie under control during Christmas Day lunch. He was bound to forget he wasn’t supposed to touch anything. I had visions of my father’s face turning purple when the knives and forks on the table started dancing in front of him.

  Bernie scowled. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Harper. Even if I can’t join in, I’d still prefer to be with other people on Christmas Day.”

  I nodded. I didn’t have the heart to order Bernie to stay away, not at Christmas. “Okay. Just try to remember you’re not supposed to pick anything up, okay?”

  Before Bernie could answer, Jess called out from the living room, “They’re here!”r />
  CHAPTER 11

  I smiled as I raced into the living room just in time to see Jess open the front door. Lily was the first person through the door. She exploded inside and flung her arms around Jess’s neck squealing in excitement.

  “The car journey took forever. I didn’t think we were ever going to get here.”

  My mother was next to walk inside, carrying presents. She smiled at Lily’s exuberance and kissed Jess on the cheek before walking over to me.

  “Happy Christmas, Harper,” she said, and I helped take some of the presents out of her arms, and together we put them under the Christmas tree.

  “Where is Dad?” I asked.

  The door was still open and was letting a cold draft inside. Athena was curled up by the fire and meowed in protest.

  “He’s probably still arguing with the satnav,” Lily said and pulled a face.

  Then my father walked in the door. “I can’t believe they have the nerve to charge so much money for a defective satnav system,” he grumbled. “The traffic was horrendous, so I tried to take a shortcut, only for the satnav to send us the wrong way.”

  My mother raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. I guessed this meant they had got lost, or as my father like to refer to it, temporarily diverted.

  I walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

  He smiled and pulled me in for a hug. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

  After we’d all wished each other Merry Christmas, hugged and gotten caught up with Dad’s description of the terrible journey from New York, I realized Grandma Grant wasn’t in the room.

  My father was kneeling down, stroking Smudge’s fur, when he asked, “Where is your grandmother?”

  Jess shrugged. “I don’t know. She was just in the kitchen a moment ago.”

  I stuck my head inside the kitchen and saw Grandma Grant muttering to herself as she crossed things off a list. “They’ve arrived,” I said, even though I knew she must have realized that already.

  She looked up and nodded stiffly, untied her apron, and hung it over the back of a chair. She looked nervous.