The Complete Spellbinder Bay Cozy Mystery Boxset

by Sam Short

  “You told him that you'd never forgive him, and your father told him that he’d better watch his back." She sucked on her cigarette, and turned away from Judith, speaking slowly to Millie. "Sergeant Spencer had every reason to want to harm Trevor," she said. "You'd better get to the truth before certain people in my community find out what's happened. Some of them don’t think much of our local police sergeant as it is, and finding out that he may have harmed Trevor would be just the excuse they need to make their feelings known.”

  "Mrs Giles," said Millie, giving the woman an understanding nod. "I can see why you'd think that Sergeant Spencer would want to harm your husband, but you must believe me when I say that he’s not the sort of man who would hurt anybody. Sergeant Spencer didn't kill Trevor, but I promise that we'll find out who did. We just need a little time.”

  “I suggest you hurry,” warned Helen. “Like I said… when certain werewolves find out what has happened, I know that I wouldn’t like to be a certain sergeant.”

  Not wishing to let her frustration show, and wanting to diffuse some of the anger in the air, Millie nodded towards the photograph on the mantlepiece. “How will Norman take the news?” she asked, gently.

  “I’m sure Norman will pretend to be sad, for my sake,” said Helen. “But I don’t think he’ll shed a genuine tear for Trevor, and neither should he. Trevor wasn’t the nicest of stepfathers.”

  Millie hesitated before answering. “Norman did say some nice things about him yesterday,” she said, wary that she may have been crossing a line. “He said that Trevor took him fishing sometimes and played football with him.”

  The first real emotion she’d displayed since hearing of her husband’s death slid down Helen’s cheek, in the form of a single tear, which she wiped away quickly. She nodded. “When he was off the booze, Trevor was okay. He wasn’t all bad.”

  “That’s exactly what Norman said,” replied Millie. She licked her lips, recalling something else the young wolf had said. “Norman also told me that you’d hinted that something bad had happened in Trevor’s past… something that might have contributed to him being so… troubled.”

  Helen looked away as she wiped a second tear from her cheek. “Something bad happened to him when he was a child,” she said. “I don’t exactly know what that thing was – Trevor would never go into details, he’d only tell me that it was while he was a pupil at Spellbinder Hall. He told me that he was not welcome back at the school ever again. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Yet he went there yesterday,” noted Millie.

  “He found out from Norman that Henry Pinkerton was away on some sort of business,” said Helen. “And told me he wanted to visit the school for old time’s sake… apparently it was Henry who had told him he was never welcome there again.” She sucked on her cigarette. “I told him he couldn’t, of course. I didn’t want him going with me to Norman’s open day. I knew he’d end up embarrassing me. He always did.” She gave a small cough as she blew out smoke. “So, he spiked my lemonade with gin and went without me.” She blinked, before sighing. “Anyway. That’s enough. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  Millie took a deep breath, feeling awkward about what she needed to ask next, especially after Helen’s reaction to the news of Trevor’s death. "Mrs Giles, this is going to sound awful under the circumstances,” she said. “But we think it would be for the best if the news of Trevor's death were kept quiet for the time being, just until we begin to understand what happened."

  "I told you what happened," said Helen. She pointed at Judith. "Her father killed him, and it's lucky for her that my anger towards Sergeant Spencer is fuelled by honour, and not love — because if I'd truly loved Trevor, I'd be leading an angry pack of wolves towards Sergeant Spencer right at this very moment." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose, her chest expanding. She gave a frustrated sigh and opened her eyes. "Luckily for Sergeant Spencer, I don't agree with the old ways of the wolves — an eye for an eye, a heart for heart… a life for a life." She hesitated, her eyes on Judith. “I believe in justice, the sort of justice which Henry Pinkerton will bring down upon Sergeant Spencer when it's proven that he killed Trevor. I'm not sure how Henry will punish a human for the murder of somebody from the paranormal community, but if the punishment is anything like the punishment he would give to people like us, then I'll be happy when justice is done, without feeling the need to see Sergeant Spencer disembowelled by a pack of vengeful wolves."

  A cold tingle running the length of her spine, Millie stared at the woman. Although Sergeant Spencer was obviously not responsible for Trevor's death, Millie couldn't stop the images which flooded her mind. Images of Sergeant Spencer being found guilty through some form of misplaced justice, and being given the same punishment that Henry Pinkerton had once told Millie he’d be forced to bestow upon a murderer from the paranormal community.

  Being banished to the dimension known as The Chaos, an evil place inhabited by demons and all manner of evil creatures, would be a hellish punishment for a paranormal person, but Millie shuddered to think what would happen to a human if he or she were sent to that hell. She shook the awful thoughts from her head. “We’ll find out what happened to Trevor,” she said.

  Helen gave a cold smile. “I know what happened to him,” she stated.

  "Mrs Giles," protested Judith, placing her mug on the tray with a little too much force. "My father wouldn't do the sort of thing you're accusing him of!"

  Helen studied Judith for a few silent moments. "He's your father, you would say that." She tilted her head as she sucked on her cigarette, giving Judith a quizzical look. "Unless you had something to do with it. Maybe you helped your father. Were you there when my husband died, Miss Spencer?"

  Millie put a hand on Judith's arm as her friend got to her feet in a burst of speed, her eyes flashing with anger. "Mrs Giles," she said. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, but I think we should be going now. I'll keep you informed of any developments in the case." She reached into her pocket and withdrew one of the cards that Sergeant Spencer had printed for her and Judith. She handed it to Mrs Giles. “If you need to speak to anybody, please don’t hesitate before phoning me. I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

  "I'm sure you will," said Helen, tossing the card onto the coffee table. She looked towards the doorway as a loud knocking echoed through the house. "Another visitor," she said, crossing the room. "I am popular today." She gestured towards the doorway. "You can say hello to whoever it is on your way out."

  Keeping quiet as she followed Helen Giles towards the front door, Millie glanced at Judith. Looking nervous, her friend’s face had drained of colour and her teeth were visible as she chewed on her bottom lip. A sudden rush of guilt flooded Millie's stomach, and she gave her head a quick shake. She hated intrusive thoughts, and the intrusive thought which was gnawing at the back of her mind, demanding attention, was distressingly unwelcome — and categorically untrue.

  Despite what Frederick had thought, and despite what Helen Giles had said, there was no way that Sergeant Spencer or Judith were the type of people who would murder a man. As Helen Giles opened the front door, Millie gave Judith a smile. Her friend looked nervous, and Millie wasn't surprised, she'd just had terrible accusations hurled at her by an angry werewolf.

  "Miss Thorn! Miss Spencer!" came an excited voice, jolting Millie back into the moment. "What are you two doing here?"

  "Oh, hello Norman," said Millie, smiling at the little boy who stood on the step alongside a tall man with thick black hair which fell on his broad shoulders. "We just popped in to... urm…”

  "They popped in to tell me how well you'd done during last term at school, Norman" said Mrs Giles. "They wanted me to know because I couldn't be there yesterday."

  Norman looked at the floor, twisting his toe into the redbrick doorstep. "Because Trevor came instead of you?" he said.

  "Yes, love," said Helen. "Because of that."

  “Is everything all right
, Helen?" said the man alongside Norman. He looked at Millie and Judith, distrust emblazoned on his face. "They just came to tell you how Norman got on in school, did they?"

  "Yes, Rufus," said Helen. She smiled at the big man. "Norman told me he'd be staying at your house playing computer games with Billy all morning. Is everything okay?"

  Rufus nodded towards the car at the bottom of the path, in which a young boy and a woman sat. "It's Annabel's mother. She had a fall this morning. She's okay, but Annabel wanted to go over and check on her. We thought we’d drop Norman off on the way." He gave Millie and Judith another enquiring look, his tongue tracing the shape of his lips. "It's very kind of you two, giving up your Saturday morning to visit Norman's mother to let her know how her son got on in school."

  "Oh!" said Norman. "Miss Spencer and Miss Thorn are lovely teachers, Mr Packston. They're always doing nice things!"

  Rufus looked down at Norman. "That's nice to hear," he said.

  Pushing gently past Mrs Giles, Millie stepped outside, avoiding Rufus's dark gaze. "Enjoy the rest of your time off school, Norman," she said, smiling at the young boy. "Miss Spencer and I have to go now."

  "You two have a nice day," said Rufus, stepping aside to allow Judith and Millie past him. He gave Judith a strange smile. "Oh, and say hello to your father for me, won't you? He's arrested me a few times, but I suppose that's just his job."

  "Yes," said Judith. "It is."

  Hurrying down the path, and smiling at the woman and young boy in the car as they made their way to Millie's triumph, Millie looked back over her shoulder once more. Rufus was still watching them, and he didn't look happy. “He gave me the creeps,” she said.

  “He’s a werewolf,” said Judith. “A bit of a troublemaker, not as bad as Trevor was, but a nuisance all the same. He and Dad have crossed paths a few times. He’s alright, though.”

  Millie nodded, opening her car door. She looked towards the high cliff to the east of the town, her eyes finding the gleam of sunlight reflected from Spellbinder Hall’s many windows. “Okay,” she said. “The worst job of the day is over. We’ve informed Mrs Giles of her husband’s death, now let’s go and find out if Edna Brockett has been able to find anything out from the samples she took from Trevor.” She glanced back at the house, looking away quickly as Rufus gave her a smile. “The way Helen was speaking about your father makes me think we should find out who killed Trevor as quickly as possible.”

  “You mean clear my father’s name as quickly as possible,” replied Judith, ducking her head as she clambered into the small car. “I agree. I want to be able to present the wolf community with the real killer when they eventually come knocking.” She pulled the car door closed. “Which I’m sure they will when the news of Trevor’s death gets out.”

  “I believed Helen when she said she wouldn’t tell anybody,” said Millie. “And I’m sure she’ll tell Norman to keep it to himself, too.”

  “As much as she doesn’t like me or my father,” said Judith, fastening her seatbelt. “I believed her, too, but news has a way of travelling. Especially in a town like this.”

  “I’m sure everything will be okay,” said Millie, aware that Rufus was still staring in their direction. She looked away from the werewolf as her phone vibrated in her pocket. A message from Timothy. “Edna has discovered something about the poison. Fredrick would like us all to meet in his study. As soon as possible.”

  Chapter 18

  Judith was quiet on the trip to Spellbinder Hall, and Millie found that she welcomed the lack of conversation. Enjoying the rumble of the Triumph’s engine as the sports car powered up the winding lanes toward the cliff top, she changed down to third gear and pressed gently on the throttle, the car hugging the hedge as it glided neatly around a tight bend. “Imagine how good this car would have sounded when it came off the production line in nineteen-seventy-two,” she said, her voice raised. “If it sounds good now, it must have sounded like velvet back then!” Realising what a poor analogy she’d made, she smiled, and glanced at Judith. “Or a lion’s roar,” she said.

  “I bet it was great,” said Judith, turning her face away quickly and looking out of her window. “I bet it sounded amazing.”

  Millie applied the brake and guided the car into one of the lay-bys — constructed to allow cars the room to pass each other if they met nose to nose on such a narrow lane. She turned the engine off and put a hand on Judith’s shoulder, the trembling of her friend’s body confirming that Millie hadn’t imagined the tears she’d seen flooding from her eyes. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Still looking the other way, Judith’s body rocked as she sobbed. “What if —” She sobbed again, her words cut off abruptly.

  “What if…” prompted Millie, gently. “Go on.”

  Judith turned her head slowly, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes red and the tendons in her neck stretching as she sucked in another sobbing breath. She closed her eyes and gulped, her breathing ragged. “I can’t say it,” she said. “I can’t say it!”

  Tightening her hand on Judith’s shoulder, Millie nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything. You can just cry. I’m here for you.”

  Her face crumpling, Judith gasped and opened her mouth to speak. At first, no words came out, but then a sentence tumbled from her mouth, the words tripping over one another in their hurry to be heard. "What if he did it? What if Dad did it? I can't see any other way that it could have been done! It's true what Helen said — Trevor did hit me last week! It wasn't that bad, and he didn't turn into his wolf or anything. It hurt me, but a healing potion soon got rid of the bruise. I was angry with him, I said some awful things, and Dad did, too, but…"

  "Don't even think it," said Millie, trying to make her words sound like supportive advice and not the warning which she wanted to blurt out in defence of her father. "Don't even think that he had anything to do with it! He wouldn't hurt a soul. You know that."

  "I know. I know," said Judith, wiping more tears from her face. "But I can't get the thought from my mind. Dad was so angry with Trevor when he hit me. I've never seen him that angry. So when he arrested him a week later… maybe he… maybe…"

  "No," demanded Millie. "I won’t listen to you speaking like that. You don’t mean it! He wouldn't do something so terrible — for any reason. He's not the sort of man who would take violent revenge."

  Taking a deep breath, Judith nodded. "I know. I do," she said. "I know he’s not capable of something like that — it's just that sometimes the mind plays tricks on you, doesn't it? It makes you consider things that you don't want to consider."

  "It does," agreed Millie, guilty that the weasel in her own mind had once or twice offered up conclusions about what had happened to Trevor Giles. Conclusions that had made her angry with, and ashamed of, herself. She smiled. “But you must banish thoughts like that from your mind.”

  Judith nodded, mascara forming dark rivulets beneath her bloodshot eyes. “It’s just that I saw the way Fredrick looked at Dad. I’m sure he thinks Dad had something to do with it.”

  It’s not just your Dad he suspects, thought Millie, recalling with clarity the vividness of Fredrick’s accusatory thought. He’d considered the fact that Judith was behind the magic in the poison, and Sergeant Spencer had been the person to administer it. “It will be okay,” she said, hoping her words turned out to be true.

  “What’s Fredrick going to think when he finds out what happened last weekend?” said Judith. “When he finds out that Trevor hit me! It’s true what Helen Giles said — it is a motive for murder! Fredrick will ask why I didn’t mention it earlier, but to be honest, it wasn’t a big thing! There’s always some drunk werewolf or rowdy human in the cells, and sometimes they play up. I just happened to be there when Trevor lost control a little. I don’t think he even meant to hit me, and it hardly hurt. A little healing potion and the tiny bruise was gone. Yes, I was angry, but not a
ngry enough to hurt Trevor, and I’m sure that Dad felt the same. I didn’t really think of it until Helen mentioned it, but Fredrick might think that me and Dad were trying to hide the fact that it happened.”

  Using a thumb to guide a tear away from Judith’s top lip, Millie smiled. “It’s okay, Judith. Just tell Fredrick what happened when we get to his study.”

  “What if he thinks Dad did something?” begged Judith.

  “Then let him think it,” said Millie. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. It doesn’t matter what anybody thinks. We’ll find out what happened to Trevor. I promise.”

  Judith’s hand closed around Millie’s, and some of the sparkle returned to her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry. I wobbled a little. I’m tired… yesterday was a long day.” She sighed and shook her head. “I know Dad wouldn’t hurt anybody, and I know we’ll get to the truth. We always do.”

  Chapter 19

  Fredrick settled into the brown leather seat behind his large desk, the fading wood surface displaying scratches which time had long ago filled with grime, giving the piece of furniture the distressed look which had become fashionable in recent years.

  Millie doubted very much that Fredrick’s choice of desk, or any of the other furniture or fittings in his study, was based on current trends, though. In fact, the decor in Fredrick’s study aptly reflected the vampire’s personality; sombre, dark, and in need of some cheering up.

  Glancing at the grandfather clock standing between two tall shelves lined with leather-bound books, Fredrick shook his head. “One should never trust a ghost with simple things such as timekeeping. It seems that when a person dies, their spirit loses all sense of urgency.”

  “Are you surprised?” asked Timothy, choosing the armchair alongside the worn wingback chair Millie was seated in. “They have all the time in the world. Why would they rush around in death, like they did in life? They are accountable to nobody.”