by Sam Short
“Shall we go up then, Timothy?” said Sergeant Spencer. “I do have a murder to solve.”
“Of course,” said Timothy. “The interrogator awaits Miss Thorn.”
“Interrogator?” said Millie. “That sounds… vicious. You’re joking again, right?”
Timothy smiled. “You’ll be perfectly fine, Miss Thorn. It’s just some questions.” He gestured at the staircase. “This way, please.”
The ghost had vanished, and the staircase appeared void of anything paranormal. Millie wished her head was as clear. So much had happened in so little time, and she wasn’t sure she was acting in her own best interests as she followed Sergeant Spencer, Judith and Timothy up the creaky stairs.
Chapter 12
“The owls,” said Millie, glancing at the empty glass cases on the wall. “Where are they? There were owls in those cases when I was here last night.”
“They’ve gone for the day,” said Timothy. “They required some fresh air.”
“They come to life?” said Millie. “Seriously?”
Timothy stopped at the same doorway Millie had escaped through the night before, and smiled. “I don’t know what world you live in, Miss Thorn,” he said, a bewildered expression on his face. “But in this world, dead owls don’t come to life.”
“What did you mean, then?” said Millie, annoyed at the patronising tone in Timothy’s voice.
“They needed some fresh air, as I said,” explained Timothy. “They were stuffed a long time ago, Miss Thorn. When taxidermy methods weren’t quite as advanced as they are these days. They were beginning to smell. Quite badly. The owls are currently in the basement, with the new taxidermist in town, who is airing and filling their body cavities with a more modern material.” He smiled, and shook his head. “Owls coming to life! I’ve heard it all now!”
“It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that’s happened to me in the last two days,” said Millie, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t be so sarcastic. It’s not a nice quality to have. It’s rude.”
“My apologies. Again,” said Timothy. “You really are a sensitive soul, Miss Thorn.”
The door opened before Millie had time to reply, and Henry Pinkerton stepped into the corridor, peering over his spectacles. “How are you, Millie?” he said, genuine concern in his eyes. “I was worried about you last night. So worried! Edna should never have scared you like that. It was unforgivable!”
“No harm done,” said Millie. “And to be honest with you, what Edna did was just the last straw. I was already pretty scared before she even came into the room.”
“Yes,” said Henry, fiddling with his cufflinks. “I can imagine. Myself and Mister Dickinson behaved well, in my estimation, but I can understand perfectly well why Florence and Fredrick may have made you nervous.”
“It was a lot to take in,” said Millie. “But thanks to Judith, and Reuben, I understand a little more than I did yesterday.”
“And you’ll understand more and more as time goes by,” said Henry. “Thank you for coming here today, Millie. It was brave of you. I hoped to give you time and space to yourself before inviting you back, but the murder of poor Albert Salmon must be solved, and you are Sergeant Spencer’s most important witness, Millie.”
Millie sighed. “And his most important suspect? You may as well just come out and say it.”
Henry’s expression softened. “No, no, no, Millie. Please don’t get the wrong end of the proverbial stick. Nobody thinks you did it, but as you were present at the murder scene, we need to eliminate you from any enquiries. The same applied for George and Edna, who have both been found innocent.”
“Albert mentioned other people were there yesterday, too,” said Millie.
“Yes, yes,” said Henry. “George has told us what he remembers Albert saying. Something about him having an argument with Jim Grayson, and a blonde-haired woman seen skulking around his property. I’m only interested in finding out if a paranormal person killed Albert, Millie. Sergeant Spencer will deal with investigating any humans who may be involved.”
“I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” said Millie. “Albert seemed like a nice man. I’ll do what I can to help find out who killed him.”
Henry smiled. “Thank you, Millie, although I won’t need to ask you any questions. Sergeant Spencer will deal with that aspect of things. All I need to do is prove your innocence with a little help from a magical artefact.”
“The interrogator,” said Timothy, scratching his chin.
“I wish you would stop calling it by that name, Timothy!” snapped Henry. “It will never stick! Nobody likes it — it sounds cruel.” He smiled at Millie. “I like to call it the jewel of integrity, and it’s nothing to be feared. It’s a simple test which will take mere seconds to conduct. Would you mind?”
Millie looked at Judith, who nodded. “It’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “It’s like a lie-detector, but with less wires and a much higher success rate. A flawless success rate.”
“Alright,” said Millie. “I’ll do it. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Then please step into the office, Millie,” said Henry. “But remember to bear in mind that we don’t think you have anything to hide. This test is simply our procedure when a paranormal person’s innocence, or guilt, has to be proved.” Henry blocked the doorway with an arm as Timothy tried to follow. “Do you mind if the others come in with you, Millie?”
“No of course not,” said Millie. “After what happened in this room last night, I’ll feel safer with more people here.”
Millie studied the fireplace with suspicion as she entered the room, but it contained no evil faces, only the ashes of a fire and a set of pokers and bellows which appeared to be antiques.
“If you would be so kind as to take a seat,” said Henry. “This won’t take long, and then Sergeant Spencer can get on with the important task of discovering who is guilty of Albert Salmon’s murder.”
Millie did as Henry asked, sitting in the same seat she’d sat in the night before. This time she felt far safer, and it was hard to believe that it was less than twenty-four hours ago that she’d seen the horrific face in the fireplace.
Henry walked behind the long desk, and unlocked a cupboard built into the wall behind it. He removed a small leather pouch and opened it, tipping a blue golf ball sized crystal into the palm of his hand. “Would you open your hand please, Millie?” he said, walking around the desk. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Millie glanced at Judith, who smiled her encouragement. She opened her hand.
Henry placed the stone in the centre of Millie’s palm, and smiled. “Can you feel anything?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Millie, staring into the depths of the stone. “A throbbing sensation. Almost like a heartbeat.”
Henry approached Millie, and stood before her. He bent at the waist and stared into Millie’s eyes. “That’s tremendous news,” he said. “That proves Fredrick wrong!”
“Proves Fredrick wrong?” said Millie, the stone sending pleasant vibrations along her wrist and arm. “Wrong about what?”
“He had his doubts about you. The fear you displayed in this room last night, and the lack of magical ability you’ve shown since arriving in Spellbinder Bay, gave him cause for concern. He was of the opinion that your magical bloodline was weak, maybe too weak to justify you taking over Esmeralda’s cottage, after all — only a true coven witch should inhabit that cottage. Not one with overly diluted blood. I never doubted you, of course, but the fact that the stone responds to you shows you have true blood in your veins. Fredrick must accept that truth and welcome you back to Spellbinder Bay.”
“Back?” said Millie, the stone becoming heavier in her hand. “I’ve never been here before.”
“A figure of speech,” said Henry, looking away for a brief moment. “Would you focus on the stone, and look into my eyes, please?”
The stone throbbed in her palm, and Millie focussed on Henry’s eyes — his pupils magn
ified by his spectacles.
“Millie,” said Henry. “It pains me to have to ask you, as I’m already certain of the answer — but did you have anything to do with the death of Albert Salmon, or do you have any idea who the perpetrator, if not you, may be?”
“No to the first question,” said Millie, the stone warming in her hand. “And no to the second question, too. I didn’t, and I don’t.”
The stone seemed to gain more weight in her hand, and Millie stared into the depths of the crystal as it began to glow, a soft peaceful blue glow which appeared to beat in time with her heart. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
“And it shows you have integrity, Millie,” said Henry. “It shows you speak the truth from a good heart, as I was certain you did.” He closed his hand over the stone and lifted it from Millie’s palm. “There we are. The stone has proven the innocence of George, Edna — and now Millie. Sergeant Spencer, it’s down to you to find a human murderer, or to bring another paranormal before me to be tested by the stone.”
“Let us hope the murderer is a human,” said Timothy, with a frown.
“Indeed,” said Henry, placing the jewel in its pouch.
“Why?” said Millie, standing up.
“It’s not what you’re probably thinking, Millie,” said Sergeant Spencer. “It’s not a favouritism thing between humans and paranormals.”
“Heavens no!” said Henry. “I wouldn’t stand for that sort of nonsense!”
“Then why do you hope the murderer is a human?” said Millie.
Henry sighed, and placed the leather pouch inside the cupboard. He locked the door and turned to face the room. “Because the punishment handed out for murder by the human courts in this country, is far less cruel and unusual than the punishment I would be forced to hand out if one of the paranormal community had committed such a heinous crime. That is why we hope the murderer is human, Millie. The consequences leave a less foul taste in the mouth. Having said that — I hope the perpetrator is brought to justice quickly — whoever, or whatever, it may be.”
“Okay,” said Sergeant Spencer. “There’s no time to waste. I want to head to the lighthouse and have a look around. Millie, Judith, are you two going to join me?”
“Is that allowed?” said Millie. “It’s a police investigation.”
“It’s my investigation,” said the sergeant. “And as we’ve told you. We do things differently in Spellbinder Bay. Judith helps me on a regular basis, and I’m not adverse to accepting help wherever I can find it.”
“Should you require any help from me, just let me know, Sergeant,” said Henry. “I hear there were marks found on Albert’s body. Maybe a clue can be found there?”
“Doubtful,” said Sergeant Spencer. “The pathologist is taking a good look at the body, but from what was pointed out to me, there was just a little bruising on his wrists, consistent with being held in a tight grip. With the multitude of injuries he sustained when he hit the rocks, it’s hard to be sure what was caused by the fall and what wasn’t.”
“Where was his body found?” said Timothy.
“Not where the coastguard expected,” said the sergeant. “He expected it to end up a few miles to the east, but instead it washed up just a couple of hundred metres from the lighthouse. He thinks a freak wave must have pushed him ashore because the wind was blowing away from the beach, and the tide usually drags objects east.”
“Who found the unfortunate soul?” said Henry.
“Who always finds these things?” said Sergeant Spencer. “A dog walker of course. Without dog walkers, there would be a lot more dead bodies awaiting discovery.”
Henry nodded. “Well,” he said, “should Albert’s ghost make an appearance, I shall let you know. Perhaps he’ll remember precisely who killed him.”
“Or perhaps he’ll never come back,” said Timothy.
“His ghost?” said Millie.
Henry smiled. “Yes, Millie. His ghost. Don’t look so shocked. You’ve already met Florence.”
“And the shrouded monk,” added Timothy. “On the stairs.”
“It’s hard to believe, that’s all,” said Millie. “Two days ago, I was wondering how I was going to pay my rent. Now I’m finding out that I’m a witch and that there is some sort of afterlife — it’s all a little hard to take in.”
“You’ll get used to it,” said Timothy. He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I could help you if you like? Maybe we could meet up for a meal, or a drink? I’ll answer any questions you have. I’m pretty knowledgeable about all things paranormal, and I’m said to be good company by people who know me. Everybody says I’m super fun to be around!”
Millie looked left, but Judith simply smiled and looked at her feet.
She looked to the right, and Sergeant Spencer came to her rescue. “On that note, I think we should get going. Come on, Millie. Let’s get you back to the lighthouse and see if we can trigger any memories which might help in solving Albert’s murder.” He cast a warning glance in Timothy’s direction. “Other things can wait.”
“Maybe another time, Timothy,” said Millie, her cheeks warming. “Duty calls, it seems.”
“Perhaps you’ll come to the beach party tonight?” said Timothy, clasping his hands together. “It’s all been arranged. Everyone would love to meet you. I’m sure.”
“Timothy!” snapped Henry. “That’s unfair of you! I heard George explaining to you that he was arranging a surprise party for Millie. George wanted to be the one to surprise her, Timothy. It wasn’t down to you.” He smiled at Millie. “I trust you’ll pretend you had no prior knowledge of the get together when George makes you aware of it, Miss Thorn? He was rather looking forward to the surprise.”
“Oh,” said Millie. She’d liked George — a lot, if she was honest, but with the knowledge that he was a vampire, Millie wasn’t sure how to think about him. She guessed it was unfair of her, but the thought of George being able to suck blood from a human sent a chill along her spine. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a party.”
Judith slapped Timothy on the shoulder. “Trust you, big mouth!” She took Millie’s hand. “You’ve got to come,” she said.
“You knew?” said Millie.
Judith laughed. “Of course I knew! George is really excited about it! We’re all going to be there. All the paranormal people, that is.”
Henry cleared his throat. “Of a certain age, may I add. It seems that George is only inviting the younger generations. He’s made an exception for vampires and ghosts of course — the concept of age merely offends most of them.”
“It is offensive,” came a voice from nowhere.
Millie stared around the room, convinced she was about to see another disembodied head in the fireplace, but relaxed fractionally when the transparent form of Florence floated through a bookcase and into the room.
“It’s highly offensive,” continued Florence, shimmering as she floated towards Henry, her dark hair in a high bun on top of her head. “I was under forty years of age at the time of my death, yet my gravestone indicates I’m one-hundred-and-sixty-eight-years-old. How am I to be treated? As a relic, too old to enjoy oneself, or as a vibrant young woman — capable of appreciating an evening time gathering of people on a moonlit beach?”
“George did invite you, Florence,” said Timothy. “You told him you had better things to do than mingle with commoners and drunken scoundrels.”
“Indeed. I do have better things to do,” said Florence. “I was merely explaining why the concept of age is offensive to a sizeable and important portion of the paranormal community.”
Henry gave Millie a gentle smile. “Go to the party, Miss Thorn. I think it would be good for your soul to let your hair down. So to speak.”
“Yes! Come! But remember to act surprised when George tells you,” said Judith, scowling fiercely at Timothy.
Millie shrugged. It was apparent that she had no choice in the matter. “It seems I’m going to a party arranged by a vampire tonight,”
she acknowledged.
Chapter 13
Millie was surprised to realise she was relieved — relieved that she’d passed the magical stone of truth test. Of course, she’d known she was innocent, but it was nice that everyone else now knew it too. Guilt was a strange thing, she decided — even a person completely confident of their innocence could still find guilt worming its way through some dark recess of their mind, making them feel uneasy.
Sergeant Spencer drove slowly through town, in no apparent rush to get the lighthouse to begin his investigation, and as they passed the harbour he stopped the car next to the seawall. “You and George said Albert mentioned Jim Grayson, Millie?” he said.
“Yes,” said Millie. “He said Jim had accused him of stealing lobsters from his pots. Albert said he was at the lighthouse yesterday.”
“Jim reported it to me, too,” said Sergeant Spencer. “A couple of weeks ago. He reckons his pots are getting cleaned out every time he drops them.”
“I don’t know what he expects you to do, Dad,” said Judith. “It’s just some lobsters.”
“It’s his livelihood,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I can understand his frustration. He’s a bit of a hothead, but I very much doubt he’d go as far as to push Albert off the lighthouse because of a few shellfish.”
“Stranger things have happened,” said Millie. “I heard of a man who killed his neighbour because he stole some apples from his tree.”
“You’re right, Millie,” said Sergeant Spencer. “Murder is often committed over the most trivial of things. Come on, we’re here now and I can see Jim’s boat in the harbour, which means he’ll be around too. Let’s talk to him before we go to the lighthouse.”
It was good to feel the sun on her face, and the crowds of tourists admiring the boats in the harbour and staring out to sea, lifted Millie’s spirits. She’d always enjoyed trips to the seaside when she’d been little, and the smell of salt air and seaweed reminded her that Spellbinder Bay was not all murder and monsters — it was a quintessential English seaside town, too. A characterful one at that. “What are they looking at?” said Millie, as they passed a group of people shielding their eyes from the sun as they gazed towards the horizon.
