by Sam Short
"That's why you were there on the day of his murder," said Judith.
"An unfortunate incident," said Charles. "I overheard Henry Pinkerton speaking of it in Spellbinder Hall. In the short space of time I knew Albert, he came across as being a very rude man, but even a rude man is not deserving of such a violent death."
Millie shifted on her stool. "If I may say so, without sounding rude — I've seen the bear, it looks a little… limp."
"Of course it does," said Charles. "Albert wouldn't allow me to finish my work. He was abrupt with me from the moment I arrived at the lighthouse, claiming he’d forgotten our appointment. He seemed to have other things on his mind."
"It was the anniversary of his wife's death," explained Millie.
"How tragic," said Charles. "But that explains his attitude. I like to whistle while I work, you see? It helps me to focus, but it seems to have been an annoyance to Albert Salmon. That and the fact that I terrified the poor man.”
“How did you terrify him? You didn’t turn into a vampire in front of him, did you?” said Judith.
“Of course not!” said Charles. “That’s against all the rules I hold dear. I scared Albert, because when he heard me whistling, I was crouching inside the bear — completely hidden from view. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but I think he was under the impression that it was the bear which was whistling a merry tune. It gave him quite the fright.
“He demanded I leave, in the middle of my work. No wonder the bear appears limp — it is devoid of half of its stuffing. I propped it up with an old broom handle I found amongst the odds and ends which surrounded the poor beast. I still hope to get the job finished, and now that Albert no longer has any need for the animal, perhaps that will become a possibility.”
Sergeant Spencer stared directly at Charles. "I have to ask you this," he said. "Did you kill Albert Salmon?"
"Why would I do such a thing?" spat Charles. "How dare you ask me such a question. Of course I didn't kill him!"
"He's telling the truth," said Millie.
"Are you reading his thoughts?" asked Judith.
Millie shook her head. "No," she said. "I don't need to. His van wasn't there when I saw Albert being pushed. Charles wasn’t at the lighthouse. He’d been and gone.”
"He's a vampire, Millie," said Sergeant Spencer. "Vampires can move quickly, maybe they can even leave their vans somewhere else, and scale lighthouses with thick steel doors — I don't know. A vampire could have easily pushed Albert from the lighthouse, and then leapt off the balcony before you got inside."
Charles's fist came down on the workbench with force. Tools bounced, and small clouds of dust rose from the dirty surface. "How dare you!" he shouted, veins pulsing in his neck. "I will not be accused of murder! Take me to Spellbinder Hall, I will hold the stone of integrity, and you will apologise to me!"
Charles looked at Millie, and her skin crawled with fear. His eyes had blackened, and the sharp tips of fangs protruded from below his thin top lip. An angry vampire was not something she wanted to make irater.
Calming herself, she focused on the barrage of thoughts that streamed from Charles. She sensed anger, incredulity, frustration, but above all — she sensed his innocence.
She stood up slowly, and approached the workbench. "I know you didn't do it, Charles," she said. "Please calm down, Sergeant Spencer was just doing his job."
With an expression of curiosity, Charles studied Millie. Slowly, his eyes reverted to their human form, and the tips of his fangs slid beneath his lip. "You read my thoughts? Like your friend said you could?” he asked.
"Yes," said Millie. "I'm sorry. I had to. You were becoming angry. It scared me."
"Then you’ll know I'm not capable of murder," said Charles. "And even if I was, I wouldn't do it in this town. The punishment which Henry Pinkerton would bestow upon a murderer from the paranormal community, does not bear thinking about."
Millie raised an eyebrow. “I keep hearing about this awful punishment. What is it? What will happen to a paranormal murderer that is so terrible?”
“You don’t know?” said Charles. “Have you been living beneath a rock?”
“She’s new in town,” said Judith. “She’s learning as as she goes.”
“Then allow me to hasten your learning curve, young lady,” said Charles. “If I may?”
Millie nodded.
Charles sat down behind his work bench. “Have you been made aware of chaos and order?”
“Yes,” said Millie. “Judith explained that Spellbinder Hall acts as a barrier between the two.”
“Do you have any idea what resides in the chaos?” asked Charles. “What horrors are only a thin dimension away from the reality we inhabit?”
Recalling the face in the fireplace, Millie shuddered. “Yes,” she said. “Edna Brockett made me very aware.”
“She used magic,” explained Judith. “To show her a glimpse of the chaos — a face. It scared Millie. She doesn’t need you scaring her any more.”
“I’m quite capable of knowing the truth,” said Millie, her frustration getting the better of her. “Thank you for your concern, Judith, but it’s not required.”
Judith looked away, her cheeks reddening. “Okay,” she said.
“If the face which Edna Brockett revealed to you was a source of fear,” said Charles, “then imagine being sent to dwell among the creatures who posses such faces. Imagine being banished to a dimension in which hellions rule, and chaos is king.”
“It sounds awful,” said Millie. “Is that the punishment? Banishment to another dimension?”
“Yes,” said Charles. “Permanent banishment to a place of despair and pain.”
“Permanent?” said Millie, visions of an eternity in hell swirling through her mind.
“Indeed. Only a few escape the chaos,” said Charles. “And most of the ones who do, escape it to bring chaos to this dimension — hence the importance of Spellbinder Hall as a barrier between the worlds. It is never good when a demon breaks through.” He shook his head slowly, and frowned. “Never good at all. For the most part.”
“For the most part?” said Millie.
“Not all demons are evil,” said Charles. “Some are born into chaos by accident. They are good spirits, trapped in an awful place.”
“What happens to them?” said Millie, aware of a tapping sound on glass behind her.
Charles looked over Millie’s shoulder. He pointed behind her. “That’s what happens to the lucky ones,” he said. “They are rescued. I’m assuming that the little bird tapping at my window is the familiar of one of you young witches? Either that, or he’s very tame, and somebody’s escaped pet.”
Millie span on her stool. At the top of the window, where the grime was less thick, hovered Reuben, his beak tapping incessantly on the glass.
“Reuben is a demon?” said Millie, standing up.
“Yes,” said Charles. “Rescued from chaos by a person like you — a witch, his spirit homed in an animal’s body so it may have form in this dimension.”
“I don’t know about him being a demon,” said Sergeant Spencer, “but if somebody doesn’t let him in soon, he’s going to do himself an injury.”
Reuben continued to slam his beak into the window as Millie hurried to the door. She swung it open, and Reuben fluttered inside, shaking his head.
“Are you okay, Reuben?” said Millie, as the bird landed on her shoulder. “How did you find me?”
“When you summoned me,” said Reuben, “you accepted me as your familiar. I’ll always be able to find you. That’s not important, though — what is important, is that two men are using tools to break down the door of Albert’s lighthouse. I thought you’d want to know.”
Sergeant Spencer hurried to the open door. “Thank you, Reuben. Let’s go!” he said.
“May I accompany you?” asked Charles. “I would very much like to retrieve the bear. It will serve no purpose to anybody else in it’s forlorn state.”
Se
rgeant Spencer nodded his agreement. “Come on,” he said. “If the two men are trying to rob from the lighthouse, maybe the strength of a vampire will be useful.”
“Thank you,” said Charles. “I’ll follow along in my van.”
Chapter 24
"Technically, there's only one man breaking in, and one man watching him," said Millie.
Reuben pecked at Millie's ear. "Don't be so pedantic," he said. "It doesn't suit you. Anyway, my work here is done. I was in the middle of watching an interesting documentary about volcanoes when I heard the banging on the lighthouse door, would you mind if I got back to it?"
Millie opened the car window just wide enough to allow Reuben through the gap. "You go," she said, wondering how a demon rescued from chaos ever became interested in volcanoes. "Thanks for your help."
Sergeant Spencer drew the car to a halt next to the van and the car which were parked alongside the lighthouse. The two men Reuben had spoken of carried on with the task at hand – one of them, dressed in overalls, working on the door with a hammer and chisel, and the other, dressed in a suit, watching him.
Both men turned to look as Sergeant Spencer shouted a warning. "Stop that!" he yelled. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?"
The man in the suit withdrew a business card from an inside pocket as Sergeant Spencer and the girls approached him. He gave Sergeant Spencer a wide smile. "You must be the local constabulary," he said. "I'm David Rees, from Rees and Wilkinson legal services. I'm in charge of the recently deceased, Albert Salmon’s, estate."
"You're breaking in!" said Sergeant Spencer, snatching the business card from the lawyer’s hand. "If you're in charge of Mister Salmon’s estate, why don't you have a key?"
The lawyer pointed at the thick steel door. "Mister Salmon liked his security," he said. "Some clients without family leave us a key to their property when they use our company to produce their will, but not Mister Salmon."
The man holding the hammer and chisel looked at David Rees. "Should I carry on trying to get in?" he said.
"No, you will not!" said Sergeant Spencer. He glanced at the lawyer’s brown leather briefcase. "Do you have any proof that you are who you say you are?" he said.
Mister Rees nodded. "I have all the necessary paperwork with me," he said.
Sergeant Spencer patted his pocket. "And I have a key to the lighthouse," he said. "If the paperwork is in order, I’ll let you in."
"You have a key?" said the lawyer. "And how did you come about that?"
"Mister Salmon gave it to this young lady," he said, indicating Millie with an open hand. "She lives in the cottage you can see over there — Windy-dune Cottage. Albert gave her the keys so she could let herself in with supplies for him."
"Well, this does make things easier," smiled the lawyer. He looked Millie up and down. "You must be Millie Thorn?"
“How could you know that?” said Millie.
“Albert’s will names you as the person to receive his inheritance Millie,” smiled the lawyer. “He’s left the lighthouse, all its contents, and the land it stands on to you.”
“That can’t be right,” said Millie. “I’ve only just arrived in town. When did Albert make his will?”
David Rees’s face darkened momentarily. “If I’m being honest with you,” he said. “I find it a little strange, too. I helped Albert write his will a few weeks after his wife had died and all her belongings were made legally his. I know what Albert instructed… or I’m sure I remember what he instructed, and I’m positive he demanded the lighthouse be sold after his death and the money made from the sale be handed over to the taxman. I remember thinking it was quite nasty of him, I think I suggested a charity, but he refused. I Must be wrong, though. My memory must be muddled. I work long hours, and he made his will years ago.”
“Was it changed recently?” said Sergeant Spencer.
“No,” said the lawyer. “There are no records of the sealed envelope being opened, and the matching document on our computer system has not being accessed. Both say the same thing, and according to our systems, both were written years ago. It’s as the will says, Miss Thorn — the land you are standing on belongs to you now.”
“I don’t understand,” said Millie. “It doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t even know Albert!”
Snapping open the clasp on his briefcase, the lawyer smiled. “It makes no sense to me either, but the law is the law, and the will is quite clear,” he said, withdrawing a thin cardboard file from his case. “Albert Salmon’s will states quite categorically that his estate should be left in whole to, and I quote — Millie Thorn. The magical lady who resides in Windy-dune Cottage."
“Magical lady,” said Millie, “it says that?”
“It seems he held you in high regard,” said the lawyer.
"Let's do this inside," said Sergeant Spencer, brandishing the lighthouse key. "I'm sure Millie would like to sit down while she reads Albert's will."
The man with a hammer and chisel stepped aside as Sergeant Spencer slipped the key into the lock. The workman looked at the lawyer. "Do you need anything else?" he asked, slipping his tools into the canvas bag at his feet.
"No," said the lawyer. "Thank you. Send me an invoice for the time you've wasted." He looked inland as the sound of an engine approached.
A grin on his face, he watched as Charles Bannister's van pulled up alongside his car. "A taxidermist?" he said. "I know lawyers have a bad reputation, but there's no need to have me stuffed!"
Millie perched on the sofa with Albert Salmon’s will in her hands. There was no denying what it said — he had left everything to her.
"Are you any closer to finding out who murdered him?" asked David Rees. "I can't arrange his funeral until I get the go-ahead from the police. When I am allowed to go forward with the arrangements, the costs for the funeral will be taken from his estate, and the rest will be passed on to you, Millie."
Sergeant Spencer gave a heavy sigh. "No," he said. "Not yet."
"I’m sure you’ll have a breakthrough soon enough,” said the lawyer. He smiled at Millie. “What will you do with the lighthouse? It's so close to your cottage — you could rent it out. It'll need a little work, but it's a beautiful old building, and so close to the sea."
It was close to the sea, and that gave Millie an idea. "I think I know just the person who would love to live here," she said. "But first I need to right a little wrong I did to her."
David Rees looked at his watch. "Well, I've collected what I need from here,” he said, bundling the bank statements he’d found in the sideboard, into his case. "When we've paid off all his outstanding debts — if he has any, the balance of his estate will be forwarded to you, Millie."
As Sergeant Spencer saw the lawyer out of the lighthouse, Judith sat beside Millie. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You've been through a lot in the last few days, and now you find out you’re the beneficiary of a murdered man's inheritance. It must be quite a shock."
Judith's eyes held nothing but sincerity, and Millie regretted snapping at her in Charles Bannister's workshop. She'd still been reeling from the thought she'd intercepted from Judith, and she had been through a lot in the last few days — she was bound to snap sooner or later.
She smiled at Judith. "I'm okay," she said. "Are you busy tonight? Maybe you could come to my cottage again? We could have wine and pizza. Reuben would like that."
“You said my," said Judith, a twinkle in her eyes.
"Pardon?" said Millie, her brow furrowed.
"You said my cottage," said Judith. "It’s the first time I’ve heard you refer to it as yours."
"I did, didn't I?" said Millie. "Perhaps I'm finally starting to believe that I belong here. It's a strange town, but it’s certainly not without character."
"And you've only scratched the surface," laughed Judith. "Wait until you've been here for a while."
Preceded by footsteps, Charles Bannister appeared at the top of the stairs, his shirt covered in coarse hairs. "I h
ear from the lawyer gentleman, that you are the new owner of the lighthouse, and all the articles within it, Millie" he said.
"Apparently so," said Millie. "It's come as quite a shock."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "I was wondering if —"
Millie nodded. "— take it. Take the bear — it makes me nervous, and I'm sure Albert would like to think it's going to a place where it will be appreciated."
Charles gave a broad smile. "Thank you, it certainly will be appreciated. I shall load into my van right away." He held a hand out to Millie. "I found these inside the animal, they must be Albert's, perhaps he was inspecting what little work I'd managed to get done before he threw me out. One of the lenses is missing, I'm afraid."
Millie reached for the spectacles. "I think I must've stood on the other lens," she said. "I remember treading on glass when I rushed into the lighthouse after seeing Albert fall from the balcony."
"Well, they’ll will be of no use to Albert anymore," said Charles, wiping hairs from his arms. "Whereas his stuffed bear will be of great use to me! Thank you!"
"You've made an old vampire very happy," said Judith, as Charles descended the spiral staircase.
"That's a sentence I never thought anybody would say to me," laughed Millie, reading the sheets of paper attached to Albert's will. She re-scanned the sentence she was reading, something nagging at her memory. "Look at this," she said, "it talks about Betty's belongings being transferred to Albert’s estate when she passed away. It has her maiden name written here —"
Her breath catching in her throat, Millie stood up. "I Think I know who did it!" she said. "I don’t know why, but I think I know who killed Albert Salmon!"
