The Complete Spellbinder Bay Cozy Mystery Boxset

by Sam Short

  “There was no poison in the tea, and none in the two cream cakes,” explained Millie. “So the poison must have been in the muffin. We’ll find the answers. We always do. But don’t worry. Nobody thinks you had anything to do with Trevor’s death.”

  “Nobody in this room thinks I did anything,” said Sergeant Spencer, “but Trevor was in my care, and I’m sure Timothy won’t mind me saying that the werewolf community can be a little...”

  “Rash, headstrong, hot-headed,” said Timothy. “I take no offence, and I’ve already warned the girls about the dangers you may face if word gets out that you...” His words trailed off, and he looked at the floor, his face flushed.

  “Killed Trevor?” finished Sergeant Spencer.

  Timothy shook his head. “No! If word gets out that you inadvertently served him a meal which may have killed him,” he said, correcting the policeman. “There’s a huge difference between that and purposefully poisoning a man.”

  “A difference which will be wasted on certain people,” said Sergeant Spencer. “I’ve locked a lot of werewolves up during my time in this town, and that’s been thirty years. I can only imagine how many wolves I’ve put in a cell.”

  “Yes,” said Millie. “Thirty years is a long time. Imagine how many friends you’ve made during that period, too. Imagine how many people there are in this town who won’t hear a bad word said about you! There will be a lot more wolves who respect you, than wolves who think you’d be capable of murder.”

  “You’d be surprised how quickly people can turn,” said Sergeant Spencer, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Especially in a community as family orientated as the werewolf community is. Blood is thicker than water, Millie. Family comes first.”

  “He’s right,” said Timothy. “Werewolves all belong to large families. Clans, if you will. It’s not how it used to be in the old days when clan members lived together like tribes, and fought with rival clans. These days most clan members don’t even acknowledge other members of the same clan. Think of a clan as an extended family who only meet up at weddings and funerals.” He gave a sigh, blowing his cheeks out. “But when one of the clan is wronged...”

  “Family comes first,” said Millie, glancing at Sergeant Spencer. “I get it.”

  Timothy nodded. “Yes, and some of the really hot-headed wolves will begin treating Trevor as a son or a brother, even though they never cared for him while he was alive. Trevor was a loner in life, but he’ll have a clan behind him in death. Especially if his clan think he was murdered.” He removed his glasses and polished the lenses on his shirt sleeve. “Which is why I think this whole thing should be kept quiet until we have an answer. We’ll tell nobody in the wider community that Trevor is dead. Apart from his wife and stepson of course, although I don’t think that Helen Giles will shed many tears for Trevor. The rumour is that Helen had never really wanted to marry Trevor in the first place.”

  “Then why did she?” asked Millie.

  “Out of the very real fear of being a social pariah,” explained Timothy, scratching his cheek. “When Helen’s first husband — Norman’s father, upped and left her for what he considered would be a better life in America, Helen was left as a single middle-aged woman with a child. In the werewolf community, that sort of situation can sometimes be considered as...” He hesitated, searching for the correct terminology, Millie presumed. “As wrong,” he continued. “As socially unacceptable.”

  “Really?” said Millie. “That’s not nice.”

  “It’s not,” agreed Timothy. “But that’s the way it is. Werewolves consider the presence of both a mother and a father to be of great importance,” he said. “Not all werewolves think that way, but generally, the werewolf community could be considered as being very conservative. They like things to be done in the same way they were done in the old days.” He looked up. “And that includes a child having a mother and a father. Some of the older wolves, Helen’s parents included, I’m told, look down on single mothers. They don’t believe that a mother should bring up a child on her own, they believe a father should always be involved.”

  Millie bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with being brought up without a father,” she snapped, avoiding looking at Sergeant Spencer. She swallowed her anger, saving it for a better target than the three kind people in the room with her. There was no point in her getting angry over the past. Would her life have been vastly different if Sergeant Spencer had been a part of it from the beginning?

  She sneaked a sideways look at him, wondering what sort of father he would have been to her when she was growing up. She’d never know, but that wasn’t the point, the point was... that up until her death, her mother had been a perfect parent, and Millie had never wanted for anything. Had her mother made mistakes? Oh yes, the biggest being hiding the fact that she knew who Millie’s father was but had chosen to lie instead. Did that make her mother a bad parent? No. Misguided, maybe, but not bad. She was never bad, and had done the job of both a mother and a father to the best of her ability.

  She sighed. Maybe having both a mother and a father would be preferable to having just one parent, but Millie didn’t like the idea that some people tried to sell. The idea that a child was worse off with a single parent. She smiled at Timothy. “I just think that it’s a terrible attitude to have, that’s all.”

  Timothy stood up, placing his glasses back on his face. “I agree with you, Millie,” he said. “As do a lot of the wolf community. All I’m saying is that I don’t believe Helen Giles really wanted to marry Trevor. She settled for him so that she wouldn’t be judged for being a single mother. I don’t believe she’ll shed many tears over his death. In fact...” He stopped speaking and shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t say things like that. It’s wrong of me. I hardly know Helen. I only know what I’ve been told.”

  “Things like what?” said Sergeant Spencer. “What things shouldn’t you say?”

  Timothy frowned. “It’s just that now Trevor is dead, Helen won’t be judged so harshly. Like she was when her first husband left her. Quite the opposite will be true... she’ll be treated with respect and helped by the rest of the community.” He shook his head, his expression remorseful. “It’s a sad reflection on my community, but it’s acceptable for a woman to be a widow, but not acceptable for her to be an estranged wife. It’s sad to say, but she’ll be in a better position than she was when Trevor was alive. Not that I’m saying she’d want to hurt him, of course.”

  “Of course not,” said Judith, her eyes darting towards her father.

  Not wanting to say what she was thinking, having never met Helen Giles, and not wishing to cast aspersions upon people, Millie suddenly realised just how many people may have wanted to harm Trevor Giles — and she was only considering the people she’d seen him arguing with since he’d arrived in her classroom earlier that day. It seemed that Trevor was the sort of man who invited conflict into his life with an open door and a welcome mat.

  Trevor had offended most of the other parents who’d attended the children’s cooking demonstration, as well as being awfully rude to Cuthbert Campion and his daughter. He’d been aggressive towards Fredrick and he’d fought with Timothy, not to mention annoying the whole of the audience who’d been watching the raffle draw. Heck, even the ghost wearing black robes had been startled at his abrupt entrance into Millie’s classroom, so much so that it had rushed at Trevor.

  If Trevor’s mysterious poisoning was a puzzle, it would have been a jigsaw that had long ago lost its box, and with no reference picture to work from, a puzzle that would prove hard to solve. Impossible, maybe.

  Her mind beginning to rummage through the scattered puzzle pieces, Millie gave her head a slow shake. “It’s all just assumptions,” she said.

  “What is?” asked Timothy, giving her a quizzical look.

  “Everything to do with Trevor’s death,” she said. “You assumed that Trevor’s wife won’t be too upset about her husband’s death, Sergeant Spencer is assuming that he
gave Trevor the meal which killed him, and we’re all assuming that Trevor was killed by that meal. We’re even assuming that Trevor actually was poisoned. Until somebody has a look at Trevor and finds out exactly what happened to him, it’s all wild speculation on our behalf.”

  “I agree,” said Timothy. “We can begin thinking more clearly when we have further information about what actually happened to Trevor.” He glanced at the main exit door, his head tilted to the side. “Fredrick will be here in a moment to take the body away. I can hear an engine. He’s driving his Range Rover.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” said Judith, looking towards the door.

  Timothy tapped the lobe of his right ear. “Werewolf ears,” he said, with a grin.

  Almost as soon as Timothy had finished speaking, Millie heard the roar of a powerful engine outside, followed quickly by the screeching of tyres and a car door being slammed shut.

  “Told you,” said Timothy, looking up as the police station door swung open.

  His eyes flitting quickly from person to person, darkening briefly as they fell on Millie, Fredrick strode quickly across the room, stopping in front of the reception desk. He stared at Sergeant Spencer, his voice cold as he spoke in accusatory tones. “Henry Pinkerton leaves me in charge, and you have a death in custody, Sergeant? And not just any death… the death of a member of the paranormal community! Do you know how complicated that could get? What happened here? What did you do? Timothy told me on the telephone that you poisoned Trevor Giles!”

  “Actually,” said Timothy. “I told you that Sergeant Spencer assumed he’d poisoned Trevor. Nobody knows what actually happened, yet.”

  Fredrick sucked in a long slow breath and gave a considered nod. “That may have sounded harsher than I intended it to,” he admitted. “I’ll begin again. Timothy told me that you locked Trevor in a cell, served him some food and drink, and then almost immediately after shutting the cell door behind yourself, heard him choking. Timothy tells me you opened the cell door and found Trevor dead with his hands clasping his throat and a blue substance bubbling from his mouth. Timothy also tells me that he’s never seen anything like it before. He tells me that the way in which Trevor’s wolf energy left the body, along with a strange smell emanating from Trevor’s mouth, makes him certain that there was poison involved.” He turned his glare onto Timothy. “That sums up what you told me, doesn’t it?”

  Timothy gave a meek nod. “Yes,” he said.

  Turning back to face Sergeant Spencer, Fredrick nodded. “We don’t know what happened yet, Sergeant Spencer, but I’ve known you for a long time. It goes without saying that I don’t believe you purposefully killed a man... however awful that man happened to be.”

  “Of course he didn’t!” said Judith. “And I won’t hear anybody saying he did!”

  “Calm down,” said Fredrick, lifting a leather gloved hand. “We have to judge things as we see them, Judith. However fond we all are of Sergeant Spencer, we must accept the facts as they arrive, however unpalatable. The facts at this moment in time, as I can gather, point to the fact that a man died in a police cell, most probably poisoned, immediately after eating a meal served by the man charged with his safety while in custody.”

  Judith’s face reddened. “That sounds so—”

  “Correct,” interrupted Sergeant Spencer. “It sounds correct. That’s exactly what happened here tonight, Judith.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” said Fredrick. “I appreciate your professionalism in this matter.” He looked towards the corridor leading to the cell. “We should move Trevor to Spellbinder Hall immediately. I have a witch waiting who is going to examine him as soon as possible.” He looked at Timothy. “I’d appreciate your help in carrying him to my vehicle.”

  Chapter 12

  Having stowed Trevor’s body in the vehicle, both Fredrick and Timothy appeared a little uneasy as they re-entered the police station, the door swinging slowly closed behind them.

  “That felt a little too much like being in a mafia movie,” said Timothy, trying to make light of events. “I never thought when I woke up this morning that I’d be stuffing a body wrapped in a sheet into the back of a luxury SUV with black tinted windows.”

  “Me neither, Timothy,” said Fredrick, his black leather gloves and dark clothing making Timothy’s reference to the mafia a little too well observed. “However, we cannot change what has happened.”

  “What now?” asked Timothy.

  Fredrick gazed around the room, peeling his gloves from his hands. He spoke to everybody. “Timothy informed me that he thinks it would be better to keep this little… incident under wraps for the time being, and I agree with him. We will of course inform Mrs Giles of her husband’s unfortunate demise, but I agree with Timothy that until we are sure of what happened here tonight, Trevor’s death should not become common knowledge.” He paused, his eyes falling on Sergeant Spencer. “Especially considering the circumstances surrounding his death. People will come to conclusions very quickly if the story were to emerge.”

  “And they’d conclude that I wanted to hurt Trevor,” stated Sergeant Spencer.

  “Indeed,” murmured Fredrick, “and that could turn out nasty for you, Sergeant. Not all of us in our community have always appreciated the efforts of a human policeman in keeping our little town safe.”

  “I understand,” said Sergeant Spencer.

  Fredrick nodded. “Then you’ll understand that it would be inappropriate for you to have any part in investigating this crime, Sergeant?” he said, plucking at a piece of fluff on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Until we understand what happened to Trevor.”

  “So you can eliminate me from your enquiries,” said Sergeant Spencer.

  “I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,” said Fredrick.

  The policeman forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I understand. There should be doubt on your behalf until you’ve established what happened. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “You’re a stickler for procedure, as always, Sergeant,” noted Fredrick. “I respect that.” He turned to face the doorway, slipping his gloves into his pocket. “I should be getting poor Trevor back to Spellbinder Hall. I’d like the autopsy to be done as soon as possible. You’ll follow along, Timothy? A werewolf with a knowledge of chemistry may come in handy at the autopsy of a fellow wolf murdered by what we believe to be poison.”

  Timothy nodded. “Yes, I’ll be present.”

  “I’ll come, too,” said Judith. “I’d like to be there.”

  “No,” said Fredrick, with a shake of his head. “It’s an autopsy, not a public freak show.”

  Judith took a step towards the vampire, a flash of anger in her eyes. “This is about my father, as well as Trevor. I want to make sure everything is done properly. I want to make sure that nothing is missed.”

  “Are you insinuating that the autopsy wouldn’t be above board if you weren’t present, Miss Spencer?” asked Fredrick, a shadow in his eyes.

  “That’s not what she means,” said Millie, interjecting on her friend’s behalf. She knew exactly how Judith felt. Narrowing her eyes, she locked Fredrick in a stare. “She’s worried. She wants to find out what happened to Trevor so not even a shadow of suspicion is laid at Sergeant Spencer’s feet. Sergeant Spencer is her father. Judith loves him, and even though we all know he’s not capable of murdering a man, her father is still being spoken about in words which suggest he might have had something to do with what happened to Trevor.” She stood straighter, keeping her eyes on the vampire’s. “You said yourself that Sergeant Spencer shouldn’t be involved in the investigation until we’ve cleared him of any wrong doing.”

  Fredrick put a hand up. “I didn’t mean —”

  “I haven’t finished,” snapped Millie, an angry rush of blood in her ears, no longer arguing just for Judith’s right to be at an autopsy, but for the honour of the man who was unaware he was her father. “Sergeant Spencer has served this town for longer than I’ve been alive
. I’ve been in Spellbinder Bay for just less than a year, but already I’ve seen what this town means to him — how much he cares about the paranormal community and the non-paranormal community. I’ve seen how much he cares about everyone in this town, and I’ve seen how much he’s done for this town. Can you imagine how it sounds to his daughter to hear you even saying in passing that her father’s name needs to be cleared before he’s permitted to investigate a murder?”

  “I —” mumbled Fredrick.

  Millie cut him off quickly, bleeding her pent-up emotions, knowing she wasn’t being fair to the vampire, but needing to vent, nonetheless. “I’ll tell you how it probably sounds,” she said. “It sounds disrespectful, it sounds rude, it sounds uncaring, it sounds callous, it —” She hesitated, her words caught in her throat. What did it feel like? She took a steadying breath, grounding herself once more. “It probably sounds terrifying to Judith, Fredrick. The thought of her father being accused of a crime probably feels scary and out of her control. It probably makes her afraid of what could happen to him.”

  “Thank you, Millie,” came the soft voice of Judith beside her, accompanied by a hand on her arm. “That’s precisely how it feels.”

  “Those were some nice things you said about me, Millie,” said Sergeant Spencer. “And I appreciate them. I really do, but never let emotions rule your thought process when it concerns a criminal investigation.” He glanced at his adopted daughter. “Or you, Judith. Due process must always be followed, and if that involves hurting some feelings, then so be it. Fredrick is only doing what he thinks is right, and I’d hoped we were all in agreement.”