by Amy Casey
“Herbert Young’s long-time business partner,” I said. “I didn’t know that went as deep as you doing his dirty work. But then I suppose it does make sense, when you think about it.”
“Herbert… Herbert didn’t want you dead. Please.”
“And yet he sends you here?”
I could see Stephen’s eyes going now. He was close to divulging the truth—about everything, I hoped.
“He… Herbert… he didn’t send me… He told me but… my arm. Please. It’s hurting so much… And when your cat bit me… I think I did a wee. In fact, I think I’m still weeing right now. I really, really don’t want to wee on your carpet.”
I winced at that. The truth serum was a little too on the truthful side, sometimes.
“Moving on from wee. If Herbert really didn’t send you, why are you here?”
“The deal… I… I didn’t want anyone else to know about it. I didn’t want anyone else to find out because… because… Oh God I really am having a poo right now.”
“Never mind the poo either,” I said. “Seriously. I need a new carpet anyway after your royal show. But this deal. Are you talking about the deal you had with Andy Carter?”
“I was—was never sure about this deal. Hell, I was paranoid about it. I always knew it was a bad idea. But Herbert… He insisted everything would be okay. He promised me everything would be fine. And I believed him. I believed him. And there’s something else, too. There’s… there’s…”
“What is the deal, Stephen? What deal did you and Herbert have with Andy Carter?”
“All I know is that it was a bad idea and that—that if anyone found out it would finish me. I didn’t know what I was signing up to at the time. Not properly. But things got worse and… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry what I nearly did to you. But if anyone found out… If they found out… I couldn’t live with myself. I’m so sorry.”
I heard Stephen’s words, and the more he spoke, the more I started to realise two things. One, there was definitely something with this “deal”—and the deal was probably why Andy Carter had ended up dead, whatever the deal was.
And two… well that was something I needed to hear verbally.
“Did you kill Andy Carter?”
“No,” Stephen said. “I… I wanted to, sure. Don’t know anyone who didn’t want Andy dead at some point. But I didn’t kill him. I wanted to. Believe me. There were more reasons why I wanted to. But—”
“Do you know who killed Andy Carter?”
“I know wh…”
His eyes widened then. His face went totally pale. And I realised the pain must be catching up with him.
I walked closer towards him. Tightened my grip on that arm of his.
“Stephen, stay with me. Do you know who killed Andy Carter?”
“I know… I know…”
“You know what?”
And then he looked me right in my eyes and he let out a little sob. “I know the poo just slipped out my left trouser leg.”
And then his eyes rolled into the back of his skull and he collapsed on the floor in front of me.
I looked at him as he lay there, broken arm, bleeding leg, and a suspicious… well. The less you know about his midsection, the better. You can get the idea.
And as I looked at him, I felt both frustrated and even more curious than ever.
Because this deal. It went beyond Herbert Young. Stephen Hankinson was clearly involved too.
But what was it?
What was he involved in?
I swallowed a lump in my throat as Rocky wandered towards me, stood right in front of me.
“Has he died? I mean, he smells like dead. Have I killed him? Have I protected you?”
I rolled my eyes, tutted. “No, he’s not dead. But yeah. Yeah, you’ve protected me.”
“Tough dog. That’s what I am. Real tough dog.”
Beatrice crept up behind him and Rocky almost jumped out of his skin.
I let Rocky carry on convincing himself that he was a tough dog as I walked over my trashed flat to my mobile phone. My hand was still shaking, adrenaline coursing through my system. The shock of what’d happened—of what’d nearly happened—wasn’t going to leave me for a long time.
But there was only one place I could call right now.
I keyed in the number. Waited for the answer.
“Goosridge Police Station. How can I help?”
“It’s Stella. Stella Storm. I need—I need someone at my house. Right now.”
“What exactly is the problem, Stella?”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my hands through my hair. “I think… I think someone just tried to kill me. And I think I know who killed Andy Carter.”
Chapter 21
So let me get this straight. Stephen Hankinson came into your house, unbeknownst to you, with a crowbar. He threatened to kill you—”
“And threatened to kill my cat.”
“And threatened to kill your cat.”
“And me,” Rocky said.
“Shut up,” I said.
“What?” Steve asked.
“Nothing.”
Steve glared at me. “Anyway. Stephen Hankinson came in here, unbeknownst to you, with a crowbar. Threatened to kill you—”
“And—”
“And your cat.”
“And me,” Rocky said.
I gritted my teeth.
“And he did this because you had figured out there was some sort of ‘deal’ agreed between himself, Herbert Young, and Andy Carter. And somehow your knowledge of this deal was worth killing you for. Because it relates to Andy’s murder, which you are convinced happened at the hands of Herbert Young. Am I correct?”
I nodded. Ignoring how absurd it sounded when put the way it had been.
“Herbert Young, the property guy?” Steve said.
I nodded again.
“Herbert Young, the golden child of Goosridge. Inspiration for all. Charity-volunteer. Wearer of quirky outfits. And also the guy who has cute office videos where he’s playing with puppies. That guy?”
I nodded again.
“Look, Stella. I know you’re… inquisitive. And I know you’ve been right about things I’ve been sort of wrong about in the past—”
“Sort of wrong? You’ve been fully wrong about things I’ve turned out right about.”
“Okay. I mean, it’s just terminology really, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” I said. “You weren’t ‘sort of wrong’. You were fully wrong. And I–”
“Is this really what we’re here to debate right now?”
“No,” I said, looking down at my carpet, which was still a mess. “Sorry. I’m just het up. Nervous. Adrenaline pumping. I mean, someone did just try to bloody well kill me, and you’re not taking me seriously. So there is that.”
Steve sat in the chair opposite me, notebook in hand. The police and medics had taken Stephen away to have his arm and bitten leg seen to. Steve was the one writing up the report, of all people. And even though I knew Steve and I hadn’t seen eye to eye on certain things in the past, I felt like he was my best hope. If he didn’t believe me, then who would?
“Steve, I—”
“Detective.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t ‘detective’ me. Listen. Something happened to Andy Carter that was because of a deal with Herbert Young and Stephen Hankinson. Something went wrong with that deal. Stephen, he… he says this deal scared him. That he didn’t know what he was getting into. That he came to bloody well threaten me because he was worried what might happen if the truth got out. So who was to say that Andy Carter wasn’t going to open his mouth? And that’s why Herbert Young killed him.”
Steve looked at me in that way nobody wants to be looked at—like I was mad.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“It’s not so much a matter of belief—”
“Steve, of course it’s a matter of belief. A man just came into my home and tried to kill me. Don’t you think
for a moment that there might’ve been a reason for that? And that it might be the very bloody reason I’m telling you about?”
Steve sighed. He closed his notepad. “Stella, I’m not discounting your story.”
“Oh, good. Good. That’s exactly what I want to hear. Because it sounds to me like you’re doing exactly that. But as long as you insist that’s not what’s happening, I guess I’ll just have to believe you, won’t I?”
“If you’d just let me—”
“I just don’t get where you’re standing, Steve. One minute you’re telling me to back off away from your case. The next, you’re inviting me along to Graveson Manor and letting me look at the scene of the crime—which I know breaches protocol, by the way. Now I’m telling you something I’ve found and you’re not listening to me. You’re just not—”
“Let me speak, Stella!”
It was rare for Steve to shout. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so lost of his composure.
But the way he did it… it sounded to me like he’d done it for a reason.
Like there was a reason for his impatience. His annoyance.
“There’s a reason for my annoyance,” he said, as if reading my mind verbatim.
“Go on. Can’t wait to hear it.”
“We know about this deal you talk about.”
I looked up at Steve. For the first time all night, I genuinely couldn’t speak.
He cleared his throat. Shuffled in his seat. “See? I told you to just listen.”
“What do you know about it? If you know about it, you’ll know who is involved with it. And you’ll know—”
“You’re right to say that Andy Carter had a deal with someone. But you’re wrong to say that it’s with Herbert Young, or with Stephen Hankinson.”
Just as quickly as my hope grew, it deflated again. “But—”
“We have the person Andy Carter had an issue with. Who he had history with. And we have them in custody on suspicion of his murder. That’s all you need to know right now.”
As Steve got up to leave, I couldn’t even speak—although there were so many things I wanted to ask.
“But who… who…”
“You don’t have to worry. You should… try staying with someone tonight. Especially if you’re rattled. We’ll send someone out to help you clean this place up tomorrow. But seriously. Don’t worry yourself about the case right now. We have the suspect in custody.”
I watched Steve walk out of the door. I heard the door close. And all I could do was sit there, shock and disbelief washing over me, silence building.
I heard footsteps to my left.
When I looked, I saw Rocky standing there, eyes wide.
“Don’t mean to bother,” he said. “But did that man just mention custard?”
Chapter 22
I had to admit, being down at the police station getting ready to cast my invisibility spell in order to find out the identity of the person in custody brought with it a strong sense of deja vu from the Krissy Palmer case.
Only this time, even though I knew a lot more about magic and its ways, I was far less confident about my ability to make my invisibility last.
It was late afternoon. A cold chill had come over Goosridge, which was bloody annoying. Just about got over the grimness that was winter and now we were dealt with this. I thought about moving away sometimes, or getting some kind of holiday home to spend the chillier months. Perhaps I’d have to check out this Nightthistle place, and question my extended family over whether the climate was any nicer than it was here. It was a place of magic, after all. There had to be some kind of weather manipulation that was possible, right?
Then again, thinking back to the pasty look on Thomas and Aunt Hilda’s faces, I wasn’t holding out much in the way of hope.
I looked at the police station in front of me. I thought back to what Steve had told me last night. They had someone. Someone who they were convinced was responsible for the murder of Andy Carter. And from what Steve had said, it wasn’t someone with links to Herbert Young or Stephen Hankinson—something I found hard to believe considering all the links I’d found.
But then I remembered Steve had said he knew about the “deal”. And it seemed like he was taking talk of this deal seriously enough.
Maybe it was the missing piece of the puzzle. Maybe whoever else was involved in that “deal” was the person they had in custody right now, and that they would be the first domino that led to the toppling of Stephen and Herbert, too.
And although I should be happy that they’d managed to solve a crime, to catch a killer… well, I couldn’t help being slightly aggrieved that I hadn’t been the one to get there first.
I took a deep breath as I walked up towards the police station entrance. I wanted to leave activating my invisibility to the last possible minute, but at the same time, I didn’t want to leave it too late. Going invisible on camera wasn’t something I intended on getting caught up in anytime soon.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Held my breath. Ran through the spell in my mind. And I knew full well what I was doing was dangerous. It could get me into a hell of a lot of trouble.
But was it worth it?
Oh yes.
Oh hell yes.
I closed my eyes, focused, said the words and I waited for the feeling to come over me.
At first, I didn’t feel anything. And that threw me. It worried me. Because maybe I was still weak. Maybe I still wasn’t anywhere near as strong as I wanted to believe.
So I focused again. Steadied myself. Went to activate my invisibility.
And this time, I felt it spreading over me.
Toes first.
Then feet.
Then the bottom of my legs.
Then—
“Stella?”
When I heard the voice, I almost jumped out of my skin.
I looked to my left.
Steve was standing there. He was wearing a long black wool coat, holding some papers in his hands. He was staring at me with curiosity.
And the worst part?
I could still feel the invisibility creeping up the lower part of my legs, slowly but surely.
My heart pounded. My chest tensed. I couldn’t act weird. But at the same time, I couldn’t just turn bloody invisible right in front of Steve. Shit.
So I did the only thing that felt right at that moment. The only thing that felt logical.
I raised a hand. Waved at Steve. “Sorry,” I said. “Can’t—can’t stick around.”
“But you’ve just got here, haven’t you?”
Damn it. He must’ve seen me. Must’ve seen me get here and now he wasn’t going to let me just walk away without some kind of answer. Shit shit shit.
“Oh,” I said. I was trying to hold off the invisibility creeping up my legs, but I could still feel it moving. “I just… I just…” Think, Stella. Think.
“You just… came here to ask about the suspect we’ve got in custody. To badger me some more. Well, I’m sorry Stella, but it doesn’t work like that. You know this already.”
“Why do you always have to be such an arse with me, Steve?”
I was surprised by two things. First, that I’d said that at all. And second by the look on Steve’s face. Like he was genuinely knocked back by that; that it’d got to him in some way.
He cleared his throat. Scratched the side of his head. “I don’t… I’m not sure I am, Stella.”
“Every time I just want answers. Every time I just want to help. You knock me back, every single time. I mean, not before you’ve taken me up to Graveson Manor of course. Thought I might be useful then, right?”
“That’s not entirely true.”
“Then what is, Steve? What is?”
I realised something then. The invisibility. It’d stopped. Still there—and I was amazed Steve hadn’t bloody noticed, but the mind could be funny like that—but its movement had stopped.
He looked at me and I saw his mouth open. I saw him begin
to speak.
And then, as anger and nervousness seeped through my veins, I heard him.
Without him opening his lips, I heard him.
“Thomas Mudthorpe. She won’t even know who he is. But I guess she’ll be interested to know Andy Carter was poisoned. Sure, he fought with someone at Graveson Manor. Maybe he fought a few people. But at that stage, there was already poison in his system. And it was almost certainly Thomas Mudthorpe who administered that poison…”
I froze. I’d read his thoughts. In an unfocused, reactionary way that I was bloody annoyed I couldn’t harness. But I’d done it.
And I’d heard the truth.
“Go home, Stella,” Steve said, walking up the steps of the station. “You’ll hear the news soon.”
But as he stepped inside, I couldn’t move.
Because I remembered exactly where I’d heard the name Thomas Mudthorpe.
Thomas Mudthorpe was my cousin.
My estranged, magical cousin.
But what the hell did he have to do with any of this?
Chapter 23
If you’d told me I’d be meeting with my Aunt Hilda again—colourful robes and all—then I’d have probably told you that you’re mad.
Alas, there was a perfectly good reason to be meeting her right now. And that reason linked directly to the case.
Namely, why in the name of hell Thomas, her son, had been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Andy Carter, and what on earth he had to do with him.
“It’s madness,” Aunt Hilda shouted, stomping around my dad’s lounge. Dad had disappeared upstairs, mostly because he struggled with Aunt Hilda just as much as everyone, it seemed. The rest of the family had gone back home, deciding it was safer for now—or at least until they could figure out a way to break Thomas out. Seemed like they had a spell or two up their sleeves; something they were going to concoct in order to bring Thomas back.
But Aunt Hilda had stayed behind. Mostly because she didn’t want to be too far away from her son. And for some reason, she’d stopped staying at the hotel and started staying at my dad’s, an arrangement I wasn’t sure he seemed entirely comfortable with after all his years of peace and solitude.
