by Sam Short
Pete stood up and hurried around the counter. “I’ve got his gold! It’s safe — in my safe. It’s in my office, come on, I’ll show you. Do you suspect he murdered someone? I’d be shocked if he had — I’ve only met him once or twice, but he seems very nice. Certainly not the killing type.” He paused. “Unless he got the gold fever. That can lead a man to violence.”
Guiding them through the door next to a shelf displaying an eclectic mix of old vinyl records on one side, and a glass cabinet containing jewellery on the other, Pete glanced over his shoulder. “Well?” he said. “Have I got a murderer’s gold in my safe?”
Millie followed Pete into the cluttered office. “I’m afraid it’s not like that,” she said. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that Tom is the victim. He was killed last night.”
The colour draining from his face again, Pete dropped to his knees in front of the large safe standing next to a parched potted plant.
He fumbled with the combination wheel and gave a heavy sigh. “Poor Tom,” he said, pulling the door outward. “This gold was supposed to pay for a new house. He was so happy. I was looking after it for him until it went to auction. He didn’t want to keep it at home — he told me he was worried that other people had their eyes on it. He was going to let me keep ten-percent of the profits for keeping it safe, and arranging the sale.”
“The people he was worried about,” said Millie. “Did he say who they were?”
Pete retrieved a large leather pouch from the safe and placed it on his desk, the jangling sound of metal suggesting its contents. “He was over-reacting,” said Pete. His eyes dropped. “Or so I thought. It was just the guys from the metal detecting club. Eric and the others. To be honest, I thought Tom was a little paranoid, but I wasn’t going to turn down the offer of guarding his gold for him. Ten percent of the profits would have been a very nice nest egg. Very, very nice.”
“How much gold did he find?” asked Judith.
Pete opened the drawstring holding the pouch closed, and poured the contents onto his desk. “That much,” he said, as gold coins spilt from the neck of the bag and formed a pile. “A lot. That sort of haul is almost unheard of in the metal detecting community. He must have found a real hotspot.”
Millie reached for the glittering pile, and picked up a coin. “Napoleon Empereur,” she said, reading the letters which surrounded the head of a man, presumably Napoleon. She flipped the coin over. “Forty francs,” she said.
“This pile is worth a fortune,” said Pete.
“Isn’t it classed as treasure?” said Judith. “Shouldn’t it be reported?”
Pete licked his lips. “It should be,” he said. “But the sales I arrange are attended by people who don’t much care about little details like those.”
“So, not only have you got stolen items on your premises, but you’re also breaking the law by not reporting the discovery of treasure?” said Judith.
“No law has been broken yet,” said Pete. “The finder has fourteen days in which to report any finds of importance. Tom only found this gold over the last few days.”
“Forget about that for now,” said Millie. “Keep the gold locked in your safe, Pete, and don’t do anything with it.”
“I won’t,” said Pete. “The gold is tarnished now anyway.”
“I thought gold didn’t rust,” said Judith.
“Not tarnished in that way,” said Pete, beginning to refill the pouch with coins. “Tarnished by violence. It happens with all precious metals and stones. The human race shouldn’t be allowed pretty things — we don’t know how to deal with them. That’s what my mother says.”
“She sounds very wise,” said Millie. “We need to speak to the guys in the metal detecting club, Pete. Can you tell us where we can find them? Where their club-house is, or whatever it’s called?”
“They don’t have a club-house,” said Pete, locking the safe. “Not what you’re thinking of anyway. They meet in one of the sheds on the allotments at the end of Fish Row.”
“Okay,” said Millie. “And do you know when they meet there?”
“You’ll find somebody there most days,” said Pete. “Two of the guys are retired, and the other one is a part-time mechanic. They don’t do much else with their time.”
“Thank you for your help, Pete,” said Judith, leaving the office and crossing the shop floor. “And don’t you dare sell those computers you’ve got under your counter, I’m sure my dad will be interested in them after we get to the bottom of Tom’s murder.”
When the door had swung shut behind them, Judith smiled at Millie. “Fancy a visit to the allotments? If you’re lucky, you’ll find somebody kind enough to give you some nice fresh potatoes.”
“What?” said Millie. “Why do I want potatoes?”
“For tonight!” said Judith. “George and I are coming for turkey, roast potatoes and cranberry sauce, remember?” She winked. “Unless for some reason you don’t want George coming anymore? Unless he’s done something that makes you mad? Jealous, even?”
Millie gritted her teeth, shrugged and walked in the direction of her car. “You’re both still welcome to come,” she said. “Like I said — I don’t care what George does, or who he does it with. Dinner is still going ahead. As planned.”
Chapter 10
With a fish processing factory at one end of the road, and allotment gardens at the other, the residents of Fish Row lived in terraced houses built on one side of the narrow road — sandwiched between the two suppliers of healthy eating staples. With the sea to the front, and the cliff with Spellbinder Hall atop it, away to the left, it seemed a pleasant place to live.
Millie parked the little two-seater car next to the open allotment gates, and gazed out to sea. A jet-ski bounced over waves close to the shoreline, its engine sound resembling the buzzing of an angry insect, and sun-worshipping holidaymakers were beginning to claim the areas of beach they would inhabit for the day.
The cafés, ice-cream parlours and tourist gift shops were already doing brisk business, and the aroma of frying onions emanated from the burger van parked alongside the small hut, from which people could rent old-fashioned wooden deck chairs for the day.
Seagulls squawked as they stood sentry on walls and roofs, waiting for the moment in which they would pounce on dropped food, and a group of elderly people, dressed in sporty clothing, hurried along the promenade.
“That’s the pensioner’s fitness club,” said Judith. “And see the woman in the front? The one with white hair, wearing pink shorts?”
Millie nodded. “Yes. She looks very fit. I hope I can power walk like that when I reach her age.”
Judith laughed. “That’s Mrs Raymond,” she said. “The lady who keeps asking Dad for a lift home from town with her shopping! Does she look like she needs any help to you?”
“Your father is a kind man,” said Millie, smiling as Mrs Raymond dropped to the ground and began performing press-ups while the rest of the club caught up with her. “But I get your point. I think she’s taking advantage of him.”
“It’s up to him, I suppose,” said Judith. She sniffed at the salty air. “It’s a shame we’re investigating a murder. I wouldn’t mind feeling the sand between my toes today.”
Millie dragged her eyes from the seaside scene before her, and turned to face the allotments. “Speaking of which,” she said, “let’s get on with it. I want to find out who killed Tom. He was a nice guy. He didn’t deserve a shovel in the skull.”
“Which way?” said Judith. “There must be fifty sheds here, at least. It’s not a small allotment, is it? Which shed do you think is the one the metal detectorists use?”
Millie gazed out over the carpet of crops. Several pathways led off into the allotments, one of them skirting the whole growing area, and others crisscrossing their way through the abundant plants. Sheds were dotted throughout the allotments, some painted in vivid colours, and others showing signs of age.
A few of the shed doors had been propped
open, and a man nearby one of them gave a wave as he filled a watering can from one of the numerous wood shrouded taps, which rose from the ground.
Millie waved back. “Let’s ask him,” she said, heading along the nearest footpath, waving a honey-bee from her face.
“Good morning!’ said the man, as the girls approached. He put the watering can down at his feet and smiled. “It’s nice to see some young folk here. The whole allotment lifestyle does seem to be catching on with the younger generation. I suspect it’s the price of food in those supermarkets. I mean, who wants to pay a few quid for some mediocre spuds, when you can grow some real beauties for the price of some good old-fashioned digging and a few seeds? You can’t beat potatoes dug fresh out of the ground, either! They taste so much better. I haven’t paid for a bag of spuds since nineteen-eighty-nine.”
“As much as I agree with your sentiments,” said Millie, dodging a wheelbarrow laden with dying weeds. “We’re not here to do any gardening. We’re looking for three men. One of them is named Eric. They’re metal detectorists. Can you help us?”
“Everybody here knows Eric and the lads,” said the man. “They’ve been a terrific help for lots of allotment owners — can you imagine how many rings fall off fingers when people are planting seeds, or digging weeds? You’d be surprised! Those chaps have found every single one! Necklaces and money, too.” He pointed in the direction of a bright red shed in the centre of the gardens, its door standing open. “That’s Eric’s shed. The one with the lovely runner beans growing next to it. All three of the guys are inside — they arrived here early this morning, they seemed excited about something.”
“Thank you,” said Judith, glancing at Millie. “Oh, and the lovely fresh potatoes you spoke about… could you sell us a few? If you have any spare, of course.”
“I’ve got plenty spare! Pop back here before you go,” said the man. “I’ll dig some up for you, but I won’t take a penny from either of you. You’ll enjoy eating them more if you don’t pay — free food tastes so much nicer.”
Following a footpath past a bed of courgettes on one side, and a bumper crop of rhubarb plants on the other, Millie heard men’s voices drifting from the open doorway as she approached the shed.
“Are we rich?” said one voice.
“When it’s been split three ways, we won’t be rich,” said another voice, which Millie recognised as the same man she’d witnessed threatening Tom in The Fur and Fangs. Eric. “But if we’re sensible, none of us should ever be poor again. Especially you, Jack. You look like you’ve only got two years left in you!”
“Cheeky beggar,” came a man’s voice, almost drowned out by laughter. “There’s plenty of life left in me! Just ask Pammy!”
“She’ll spend all your gold finding a younger fella, Jack!” came the laughing retort.
Millie looked over her shoulder at Judith, and put a finger to her lips.
Nodding her understanding, Judith copied Millie’s careful foot placement as she slowed her pace, and stopped next to the shed, hidden from its occupants by tall runner bean plants dotted with red flowers, around which several bees buzzed.
“She can have all my gold for all I care,” said the man, who Millie presumed was Jack. “As long as Pamela is happy, I’m happy.”
“You soft old sod,” said another man, his voice sounding younger than the other two. “Use some of it to treat yourself.”
“What will a young lad like you spend his on, Andy?” said Jack. “Flash cars and alcohol?”
“I don’t know,” said Andy. “I’ve never had much money before. Maybe a new car. We’ll see.”
The men went silent for a moment. Then Jack spoke again. “Do any of you feel guilty about Tom? I do. A little.”
Millie’s blood ran cold.
She stared at Judith, whose eyes widened. “They did it,” she mouthed.
With a nod, Millie slipped her phone from her pocket and opened her voice recording app, aiming the microphone at the shed’s open doorway.
“Don’t feel guilty,” said Eric. “I don’t. Not in the slightest. He should have known better than to mess with the Spellbinder Sand Diggers.”
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “I’ve always been an honest man. What we did last night, wasn’t right. It wasn’t honourable.”
“Come on, Jack,” said Eric. “Don’t feel like that. Tom was devious. He crossed a line. He deserved it.”
“It’s alright for you two,” said Andy. “I’m the one who did it. I’m the one who committed a crime. You three didn’t technically break the law.”
“We were all in a cordoned off area,” said Jack. “There were signs stating that nobody was to go anywhere near that dinosaur skeleton that Tom found. That Sergeant Spencer bloke put them there himself. We were breaking the law just being there. You know how seriously illegal metal detecting is taken by the law.”
“Wow,” said Andy. “You sneaked past some police tape. It was hardly the crime of the century. It’s me who should be worried about the police, not you two. I can hardly believe I actually did it.”
“Enough!” said Eric. “We were in it together, but as the founder of the Spellbinder Sand Diggers, and owner of this shed, I suggest we don’t mention it again. Nobody will ever find out what happened, no evidence was left behind, and Tom’s not going to report us, is he?”
“It was funny, though,” said Jack. “When we left him there in the dunes like that!”
“That look on his face!” said Eric. “I’ll never forget it! It was so funny! The look of absolute shock!”
For a brief moment, Millie wondered if one of the men was the possessed by the demon, but realised with a sinking hope for humanity, that all three of the men were in it together.
The evil emanating from the shed was of human origin. All forged by greed. Gold fever. She shuddered, and pointed at the open door. “After three,” she mouthed at Judith. “One. Two. Three!”
Millie moved first, barging past the runner bean plants, angering the bees, which swarmed around her head. She swiped one away from the tip of her nose and burst into the shed, with Judith close behind her. “Nobody move!” she yelled, staring at the small gold-laden table standing in the centre of the semi-circle of men. “We know what you did last night!”
“Police!” shouted Judith, followed by a shriek. “Ow! I’ve been stung!”
Eric moved first. Grabbing the corner of the table, he hurled it in Millie’s direction, the gold coins turning into painful projectiles which peppered Millie’s face and neck.
“Ow!” shrieked Judith once more. “I’m getting stung all over!”
“Everybody leg it!” commanded Eric. “Good luck, fellas, it’s each man for himself now! Godspeed, dear friends!”
“My Pammy’s biscuits were on that table, Eric,” said a balding man, placing a flat cap on his head. “Now they’re all over the floor! Raisin and choc chip, they were, too! My favourites. She only makes them once a month!”
“Forget the biscuits, Jack,” said Eric, kicking the toppled table towards Judith. “If this pair catches you, you’ll be eating prison biscuits by next week, and they won’t have raisins in them! I can assure you of that. And if they do have, I’d be dubious about their origin! Just run for it, Jack! Both of you run for it!”
A sharp pain erupted on Millie’s neck, and she swiped at the attacking bee, knocking it to the floor. As another bee flew at her face, the three men in the shed made for the exit, barging past Millie and Judith as they made their escape.
Judith ran outside, her arms waving wildly as she swatted the stinging insects, and Millie followed her, fighting her own battle with the bees.
“They’re escaping!” said Judith, a large red welt rising beneath her left eye.
Unhindered by bees, the three men each chose a different direction to run in. Eric made quick progress past a line of sheds, while Jack kept his head low as he limped through a cabbage patch, his biscuits seemingly forgotten, but it was Andy who Millie wanted
most urgently to apprehend — the man who had confessed to having committed the crime.
Swatting a bee from her ear, she watched the young man preparing to vault a low fence on the opposite side of the allotments. He glanced over his shoulder as he placed a hand and a foot on top of the chain link metal, and began hoisting himself over.
“I can’t chase them!” said Judith, swatting at the air. “I’m getting stung all over!”
Millie took a deep breath as instinct took control of her powers. The space behind her ribs burned as her magic grew, bubbling within her as it searched for a purpose. A release. Not sure of what spell she was about to cast, she raised a hand, purple sparks arcing between her fingertips, and pointed her fingers in Andy’s direction.
A hand grasped her wrist, the fingers digging into her flesh, forcing it downwards. “No!” said Judith. “Look around you! There are too many witnesses. The concealment spell is good, but you shouldn’t abuse its power by blatantly performing magic in front of so many non-paranormal people!”
Millie looked around the allotments. Judith was right. There were at least six people staring in her direction. She let the magic fizzle out, and the sparks vanished from her fingertips. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was the pain of the bee stings. I got angry. I wanted to catch Andy.”
“Don’t worry,” said Judith, rubbing at the red marks on her face, and waving the last of the striped attackers from her arm. “He won’t get far. We’ll catch up with him. We’ll catch up with all of them. That won’t be hard, but we’ll get Dad to do it. I think a uniformed police officer is required now. I don’t know if anybody saw those sparks you created, but just in case — we need to make things appear as normal as they can be around here.
“We’ll gather up the gold which Eric threw all over the place, and head back to your cottage. Then we’ll use some magic to heal these stings. Dad can look for those three criminals while we keep an eye on the alien hunters and make sure they don’t get near the demon skeleton.”
“Excuse me,” said a voice from behind them. “Will you still be wanting potatoes after that little fiasco? I dug some up for you.”
