The Complete Spellbinder Bay Cozy Mystery Boxset

by Sam Short

  “What’s that look for?” said Millie. “What are you going to ask me?”

  “I’m sorry to wake you so early at, erm…” She glanced at her phone. “Half-past seven, but I need a favour? If you’d be so kind?”

  “What sort of favour?” said Millie.

  “Dad updated the missing person file for Jill Harris yesterday,” she said.

  “The missing mother,” said Millie, switching the kettle on. “And how can I help you with that?”

  “I phoned Jill yesterday to tell her, and she asked if I could take it to her today. At eleven o’clock. On a Saturday,” said Judith. “She’s expecting me.”

  “And you can’t, so you’d like me to do it for you,” said Millie, smiling. “Of course I will. I had nothing else planned.”

  “Thank you,” said Judith. “It’s for Dad, more than me. I just go along with it, to make him happy.”

  “Go along with what?” said Millie.

  Judith smiled. “It’s this thing we do together — every year. It’s like an anniversary, but I sometimes forget, like I did this year — hence me phoning Jill Harris and arranging an appointment on a Saturday of all days. When Dad came down for breakfast this morning dressed in his shorts and his Bexington Zoo t-shirt, I pretended I’d remembered. I went upstairs and changed into my zoo shirt, then I told him I was just nipping out to get some sun-cream as it’s going to be so hot today, and rushed over here on my bike. I didn’t want to cancel with Jill, the poor woman, and I think Dad would be gutted if he thought I’d forgotten our thing again.”

  “Okay,” said Millie. “I definitely don’t mind helping you, Judith, but I will be needing help with something myself.”

  “Anything!” said Judith.

  Millie frowned. “I need to know why your father came down to breakfast dressed in a Bexington Zoo t-shirt. Then I need to know why you put a zoo shirt on, and then I need to know why zoo t-shirts are an important factor in the story you just told me.”

  Judith smiled. “It’s nice, really,” she said. “When Dad adopted me as a two-year-old, and brought me to Spellbinder Bay when I was three…after the accident… you know.”

  Millie approached Judith and put a hand on her arm. “You don’t need to talk about it,” she said. “I’m sorry for asking, I didn’t think it would dredge up bad memories.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Judith. “The bad memories were from a time before Dad adopted me and brought me here. Those memories are locked in one box, and the memories I have of my time in Spellbinder Bay are locked in a different box. I’m rummaging through the second box today.”

  “I understand,” said Millie. She did understand. The two boxes in her own head may not have contained the awful memories that one of the boxes in Judith’s head contained — the memory of accidentally killing her own parents with magic, but her two boxes each held memories of a different part of her own life — one box brimming with ten years worth of memories of the time before her mother died, and the other box containing the memories of the fourteen years afterwards.

  Judith placed her hand over Millie’s. “So, when we moved here, lots of people in town were very supportive of me and Dad, especially the paranormal community — who knew of my history. There was always somebody at our house. I was only three, but I still remember all the cakes people brought for us, and all the meals they cooked. I don’t remember who they all were. I was young — all their faces have blurred into one over time, but they were kind people.”

  “A real community,” said Millie.

  “It was… is,” said Judith. “And they arranged things, you know? Community picnics on the beach, day trips — that sort of thing. Things that would help take a three-year old’s mind off her past. As I grew older, the visits to our house became less frequent, and the picnics and day trips stopped, but Dad and I still took our trips together. Especially to Bexington zoo. I used to love it there! Dad would take me once a month until I was six or seven, then once every six months or so, and now it’s once a year — on the same day — or the closest Saturday to it.”

  “Today,” said Millie.

  “Yes,” said Judith with a grin. “Dad has turned it into our day. He’s very big on it — he never forgets. We’ve only missed it twice, and that was because of Dad’s work, but he always took me as soon after the day we’d missed as he could.”

  “It sounds like a lovely tradition,” said Millie.

  “It is,” said Judith. “If you like zoos.”

  “But the t-shirts?” said Millie. “What’s that all about?”

  Judith laughed. “There’s a gift shop at the zoo, and Dad buys us both a t-shirt from it every time we go — it’s the last place we visit before leaving the zoo. Then we wear the shirts he’s bought the next time we go. So the shirts we’re wearing today, are the shirts he bought us last year. It’s silly, really, but Dad loves it.”

  “And is your shirt under that hoodie?” said Millie, raising an eyebrow.

  “It is,” said Judith. “Would you like to see it?”

  “Naturally,” said Millie, taking a step backwards, and smiling as Judith unzipped her jacket.

  “The arrow on Dad’s shirt is pointing the other way,” said Judith, rolling her eyes as she revealed the grinning face of a chimpanzee, with an arrow below it, and the words, I’m with that cheeky monkey.

  “That’s so funny!” said Millie. “You’re lucky to have a father like that, Judith. I hope you both have a lovely day at the zoo, and don’t worry about your appointment with Jill Harris. I’ll be there on time.”

  Chester Harris opened the door. Dressed in scruffy clothing, his eyes bloodshot and his hair dishevelled, he looked ill. “Hello?” he said.

  “Hello, Mister Harris,” said Millie. “I’ve come to bring your wife the updated files concerning her missing mother. My colleague spoke on the phone with her yesterday. She made an appointment for eleven. My colleague couldn’t come, so I’m here instead.”

  “Oh, yes, right. Come in, I suppose,” said Chester. “She’s in the kitchen. Would you mind showing yourself through? You remember where it is from the last time you were here? I was just going upstairs for a lie-down.”

  “Yes, I remember. Thank you,” said Millie, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her as Chester began climbing the stairs to her left.

  “You’re welcome,” said Chester, his back to Millie as he reached the top of the stairs and vanished into one of the rooms.

  Giving a gentle knock first, Millie pushed the kitchen door open. “Hello, Mrs Harris,” she said, speaking to the lady sitting at the table, a mess of pieces of paper and envelopes in front of her.

  “Oh, hello!” she said, getting to her feet. “Please, come on in, and call me Jill. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?”

  “A coffee would be lovely,” said Millie. “Black, no sugar, please.”

  “I was expecting the other young lady,” said Jill. “Not that it matters, of course.”

  “She sends her apologies,” said Millie. “She couldn’t make it.”

  “That’s fine. I hope that husband of mine was polite when he let you in,” said Jill, grabbing two mugs from a cupboard. “He’s been like a bear with a sore head this last week.”

  “He was fine,” said Millie. “He did look a little tired, though.”

  “He’s not sleeping, you see,” said Jill. “He’s got something on his mind, but he refuses to tell me what. He’s adamant that he’s okay.” She winked. “Men, hey?”

  Millie sighed. “Indeed,” she said. “Men.”

  “You’ve got a man problem, yourself?” said Jill.

  “Sort of,” said Millie. “An unresolved argument. It will work itself out, though.”

  “Don’t let it simmer, is my advice,” said Jill. “Because if you let it simmer and don’t turn the heat down, it will get hotter and hotter, until it’s boiling. And then it will be too late. The pan will boil dry.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind,”
said Millie.

  Jill smiled. “Please, sit down, sorry about the mess on the table top. When your colleague phoned me yesterday, I got to thinking about Mum again, and fetched the box I keep her letters in. It’s all love letters, from her Canadian fella, but it gives me a glimpse at a part of her that I never really knew.”

  Lowering herself into a chair, Millie placed her file on the table, and glanced at the nearest letter. “Do you mind?” she said. “If I have a look?”

  “Please feel free,” said Jill, adding milk to one of the mugs. “The police looked at them all those years ago, but they were of no help. The address on the letters is where the man used to live at the time my mother was writing to him, a town in Quebec but when Mum went missing he’d moved on. The Canadian police found his wife living there, but with no husband, and with no forwarding address. He’d already left her.”

  “For your mother?” said Millie.

  “Who knows?” said Jill, placing a mug in front of Millie. “His ex-wife said he’d moved out a month before Mum went missing. They never traced him. The assumption is that Mum went to Canada to join him. They’re probably living the good life in some remote peaceful corner of Canada. On the coast. That’s how I like to picture her, anyway. She loved the sea. I like to think that she’ll spend the rest of her days with a sea-view.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Millie. “It must have been so hard for you.”

  “It was,” said Jill. “It was very —” She leapt to her feet and hurried towards the open back door. “Harry!” she shouted. “Get that dirty thing out of the kitchen! Go on, take it back in the garden — shoo!” She sat down next to Millie. “Sorry about that,” she said. “He’s been digging in the vegetable patch all morning. He must have picked up on a scent, he keeps wandering in here with dirty feet. I’ve only just mopped the floor.”

  “That’s why I have a cockatiel, and not a dog,” said Millie. “Although he doesn’t come without his own problems and habits.” She picked up a piece of paper from the table, and scanned the neatly written letter. “He seemed to love her,” she murmured, reading the affectionate outpourings.

  “Oh yes,” said Jill. “The letters are lovely, aren’t they? They could be just words, though — he left his wife, remember. Who’s to say he never did the same to my mother?” She jumped to her feet. “Harry! What on earth is that? Get it outside immediately! It’s disgusting!”

  Millie turned the letter over, and stared at the single sentence at the bottom of the page. The sentence preceding three kisses. Her blood ran cold. “Jill,” she said. “What does this mean? At the bottom of the letter?”

  “Oh,” said Jill, pushing Harry through the door with gentle persuasion from her foot. “The French part you mean? He was from Quebec, as I’ve said, and French is the main language spoken in that part of Canada. I looked that phrase up in an old French dictionary — as far as I can tell, it means I will love you forever. He signed off like that on all the letters he sent to Mum. I think it’s lovely.”

  Millie silently re-read the sentence at the bottom of the page. Je t'aimerai pour toujours. “Jill,” she said. “Did your mother have any jewellery with that phrase engraved on it?”

  “Yes,” said Jill, wrestling something from the little dog’s mouth. Something long and white. Something which fell to the floor and bounced a few times before coming to rest at Jill’s slipper-clad feet. “She had a ring. He bought it for her while he was working over here, when they first met. A gold ring, with a heart on the band. She would never take it off.” She bent at the waist and peered at the saliva covered item which Harry had dropped. “What is that, Harry? It looks like a bone.”

  Footsteps on the stairs drew Millie’s attention, and she stood up as the front door clicked open and then slammed shut. “Jill,” she said, rushing for the kitchen door. “Don’t touch that bone. And keep Harry away from the garden. Don’t let him dig anymore. Stay here and wait for one of my colleagues to arrive.”

  “You’ve gone white, dear,” said Jill. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Millie, hurrying along the hallway and opening the front door as a car engine burst into life. “I think something terrible may have happened.”

  “Where’s he going?” said Jill, joining Millie on the pavement, and watching as a blue car sped off down the road, turning left at the end. “He said he was going to lie down.”

  “I think he heard us talking,” said Millie, staring at her car wheels. “And he didn’t like what we had to say. So much so that he’s slashed my tyres.”

  “What do you mean?” said Jill. “What’s going on? Where is Chester going? Who slashed your tyres?”

  Millie placed her phone to her ear, and cursed silently as she reached Sergeant Spencer’s answering service. Of course — he and Judith were at the zoo. She was on her own. She dialled the only other number she could think of. “I need you. Urgently. In Sandy-hill Terrace. And bring a spare helmet,” she said.

  Chapter 21

  Jill Harris watched on with shock scrawled across her face as George brought his motorbike to a screeching halt outside her house. “What’s happening?” she shouted, as the rumbling tones of the bike’s engine made normal conversation impossible.

  Millie slid the open-faced helmet, which George had handed her, over her head, Jill’s anxious face begging her for answers — answers Millie didn’t have — yet. She took a long breath, and decided to share her honest suspicions with the woman. “Jill,” she yelled. “I think Chester may have done something to your mother. Is there a neighbour you can wait with? Somebody to give you support?”

  As Millie climbed onto the bike, Jill gave a slow nod.

  “I’m sorry, Jill. We have to go!” she yelled, as she nudged George in the small of his back. “Left at the end of the road. We’re looking for a blue hatchback.”

  The engine screamed as the bike moved away, the rear tyre screeching on tarmac. “The car must be heading out of town,” shouted George. “There’s only one road. It shouldn’t be hard to catch it. Why are we trying to catch it? Who is it?”

  Holding tightly to George’s leather jacket as he leaned the bike low to the left, Millie shouted over his shoulder. “I think he killed his mother-in-law. And buried her… somewhere.”

  If Chester had killed her, and buried her body in his garden thirty years ago — why was it only now that Harry had discovered her remains — if the bone the dog had brought into the kitchen did belong to the missing woman, and why was her ring discovered in the sand dunes by Tom Temples, the man who was murdered in the same spot? If it even was her ring.

  Millie shook such complicated thoughts from her head. One task at a time. The first one being to catch Chester Harris.

  George opened the throttle as the road widened, and lines of houses became thick hedgerows. “So, does this mean we’re friends, or are you just using me for the ride?” he yelled, his voice competing with the whoosh of wind.

  “Not now, George!” shouted Millie, shutting her eyes as the bike roared around a blind corner.

  “That woman, Millie,” shouted George. “The nurse. She’s —”

  “Not now!” yelled Millie. “I don’t care!”

  George responded by giving the engine more fuel, the bike lurching forward as he dropped a gear and lowered his chest closer to the fuel tank, allowing a wall of wind to push hard into Millie’s face.

  Bending with him, Millie watched the road ahead, a sudden reflection of sunlight on metal visible at the crest of the hill, where the road began to head inland. “There!” shouted Millie. “I saw a car!”

  Expertly manoeuvring the bike, George opened the throttle wider, the hedges zipping past in a blur of green. “I see him,” he yelled, as the bike reached the top of the hill. “Now we have to stop him!”

  “Ride alongside him,” said Millie. “Maybe when he sees us he’ll pull over!” Lurching backwards as the bike powered forward, her training shoes pressed firmly on the foot grips
, she held on tightly to George as he neared the tail end of the hatchback, its driver glancing nervously in the rear-view mirror as the car swerved to the left.

  “He’s not going to stop!” shouted George. “He’s seen us! He knows we’re here, but he’s speeding up!”

  “Be careful!” yelled Millie, as George matched the speed of the car and drew alongside it, a distance of a few feet between the two fast-moving vehicles. She pointed at Chester Harris, whose panicked face peered at her. “Pull over, Chester!” she shouted, jabbing her finger in his direction. “Pull over!”

  The car’s engine gave a loud roar, and the vehicle gained a small advantage over the motorbike, easily matched by George as he twisted the throttle grip. He turned his head to look at the driver. “Stop!” he ordered. “Stop the car!”

  Millie saw what was about to happen a millisecond before it did. “Watch out!” she screamed. “He’s going to —”

  Her words abruptly cut off by the heavy thud of the car’s side panelling striking the motorbike, and her hands losing their grip on George’s jacket as the violent collision launched her from the pillion seat, time seemed to slow for Millie as she twisted in the air, gaining height as she watched Chester beginning to lose control of his car, the front-end heading for the closely spaced trees which lined the side of the road.

  “Millie!” she heard George shout, his voice distant as the front wheel of the motorbike swivelled too far to the right, the bike’s rear end travelling upwards as if the front brakes had been slammed on, ejecting the vampire from his seat.

  Hearing the sickening thump of the car colliding with a tree, and watching the front end begin to crumple, Millie closed her eyes, awaiting her own collision. Awaiting the crumpling of her body. She wondered if it would be painful, or quick, and gritted her teeth as she felt herself losing height, plummeting at speed towards her fate.