by Holly Bell
‘Still, she could have taken a private plane, flown from somewhere else anonymously.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘All right. What about Gibbs?’
Baker replied to this one,
‘Sir, I went through the list I got from him of the team members who were on the company jolly with him. They all said Gibbs was with them the whole time.’
‘Hm, doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hired someone to do the job for him.’
‘Yes, sir. I’ve put some feelers out for word on any contracts that might have been on Miss Gibbs, but the street is quiet; no chatter over the wires on that one, sir.’
‘What does Mrs L-G say about where she was while at the spa?’
The constable turned down the corners of her mouth, and Baker put in,
‘Bit Nikolaides’ head off when she called up to ask, but the lady insists she was just in and out of the local town and on the beach.’
‘Can anyone corroborate that?’
‘She claims she must have been seen by a dozen locals but doesn’t know who they are. There’s a beach restaurant. Mrs L-G says she visited there a couple of times just for a snack.’
‘Thai police?’
‘Yes, very helpful, sir. The restaurant owner told them he recognised the photo of her and yes, she’d been in, but he couldn’t say which days.’
‘Well done, both of you. All right. So, she had opportunity. Possibly. But why meet her daughter in a library basement of all places? None of this makes any sense, Baker.’
‘Quite sir.’
Trelawney pondered.
In the silence, the sergeant cleared his throat tentatively. ‘Sir?’
‘Hm. Sorry. Yes, Baker?’
‘Word on the street is … we need ...’
‘Yes, Baker, I know. We need an arrest. But that’s not our way. We need the perpetrator, not a scapegoat.’
‘We need a break, in this case, sir,’ urged the sergeant. ‘And we need it now. It doesn’t matter where it comes from. We need it now.’
Trelawney cogitated on Baker’s last words. ‘It doesn’t matter where it comes from.’
***
The call came. Thomas knew it would. He was being summoned to the office of Chief Inspector Francis Maxwell.
Thomas sent a text:
Mike, I’m on the carpet. T
He got an instant reply.
Sorry, Thomas, this is a train I couldn’t stop. Francis will be fair. Let me know how it goes. Mike
PS. He’s now acting superintendent pending confirmation to make it permanent. He needs this one in the bag. Mike
Francis Maxwell leaned back in his chair, took off his specs and cleaned them. He looked tired.
‘Trelawney, I hope you know how highly I regard your capabilities.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ replied the inspector, seated on the opposite side of the imposing but practical desk.
‘I believe absolutely that we have our best man on the job. Even so, this has become a high-level case, and there are accusations of incompetence on the part of the police. I won’t sugarcoat this, Trelawney. The victim’s grandfather is a mystifyingly influential man. I’ve had calls not only from Veronica Loftleigh-Gibbs and Damian Gibbs but also from the Home Secretary’s office. And I’m sure you know what that means.’
‘I can imagine, sir,’ responded Trelawney.
Maxwell put his glasses back on. ‘Damian Gibbs makes a substantial contribution both in tax and trade to this country’s bank balance. He’s one of our leading philanthropists, moreover. In fact, sub rosa, he’s up for the Queen’s next honours list.’
‘O.B.E?’
Was that the information that Gibbs had been withholding? Or was it just one piece?
‘Indeed. And now this second Madley business is in danger of dragging his name through the mud. A man about to receive The Order of the British Empire.’
‘That does add an extra dimension of seriousness to the situation. I do appreciate that, sir.’
‘Not only the parents of the girl, and the Home Secretary but also the press, are baying for an immediate arrest. We must have something to throw to the hounds, man. The story of the incident at the Centre only weeks ago and Gibbs’s connection with it has been revived. Even the broadsheets are making it look appalling, never mind the gutter press. They’re starting to talk about The Curse of the Gibbs, for goodness sake.’
Trelawney chose his words carefully.
‘I suspected that the situation was escalating. My team and I are continuing diligently to pursue every avenue.’
‘I have no doubt, Inspector. And, I also have no doubt that in any ordinary case, you would, in time, bring it to a satisfactory and just resolution. But we have run out of time. Twenty-four hours. You have twenty-four to make an arrest.’
‘I understand sir.’
Trelawney found a booth in the nearest quiet coffee shop where he might recover from the interview. No easy feat in that dense quarter of London. He ordered tea and called Hogarth.
‘Bad?’ asked Mike.
‘I have 24 hours to make an arrest.’
‘Who will it be, Thomas?’
‘There can be only one person. She had means and opportunity, and no alibi. But no motive, Mike. Still, I am now without any other option.’
‘Before you do make the arrest, there’s a call I recommend you make.’
***
Amanda, at Mrs Pagely’s request, was back at the library.
‘Oh my dear, thank you for coming. Let’s just step into the reference section for a moment. It’s quiet there.’
They sat down. The librarian was calm but deeply troubled. Even Amanda could see that as she waited for her friend to begin.
‘Kind Constable Nikolaides called. Such a dear girl. She told me that the powers that be are pressing for arrest and I am …’
‘What? Surely not you, Mrs Pagely!’
‘It’s quite all right, my dear,’ said Mrs Pagely putting her hand on Amanda’s. ‘The Truth will out. I believe that utterly.’
‘But …!’
‘It may be a little uncomfortable. I’ve never been in a cell before. I do hope it’s warm enough. As long as they let me have my blood pressure pills. They’re all packed …’
Amanda sat silent, a frown deepening between her brows. Suddenly she spoke.
‘No.’
‘My dear?’
‘No,’ she repeated emphatically. ‘I’m not having this. This is wrong.’
‘Amanda?’
‘Enough is enough. Leave this with me.’
Amanda rose and strode purposefully from the library.
Chapter 30
Preparing Amanda
Trelawney was about to follow through Mike’s recommendation and make the call, when he was pre-empted.
‘Inspector.’
‘Miss Cadabra. I was about to phone you.’
‘How long have you been given before you make an arrest?’
‘I was given 24 hours. That was 12 hours ago.’
‘Give me three.’
‘Three?’
‘Yes,’ Amanda confirmed. She paused, about to put her word on the line. ‘Give me three, and I will get you a lead,’
He took a patient breath. ‘I see. Except I don’t. Where and how do you intend to come upon this lead?’
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘And I would very much rather that you did,’ Trelawney countered emphatically. ‘If you want me to give you this latitude then I need you to be open with me. For a change,’ he added dryly. ‘Are you at the cottage?
Clearly, he would brook no arguments. Amanda acquiesced with,
‘I can be.’
‘Good. I’m on my way. Forty-five minutes.’
Amanda excused herself from The Grange for the rest of the day, went home, and got the tea tray ready. Then there was the fire to be lit and some agitated pacing time to put in, watched fr
om the sofa with evident boredom by Tempest.
She jumped at the sound of a voice, however familiar it was,
‘Now then, bian.’
‘Grandpa!’
‘Calm yourself down.’
Both her grandparents had appeared and were making themselves comfortable in their favoured armchairs opposite the sofa. Inevitably, they had brought refreshments.
‘Amanda dear, you’ve got the words of the spell down pat?’ asked Senara, helping herself to a slice of Battenberg cake.
‘Yes, Granny.’
‘You know what you intend by the words? That’s what counts.’
‘I do, Granny.’
‘You know that if you don’t survive, Jonathan Sheppard won’t know how to get back into his body? He could be wandering around, trying to work it out for years.’
‘Oh dear.’ This was a potential consequence Amanda had hitherto only suspected. ‘But I do need him down there with me. I don’t think the Oracle will see me otherwise,’ she protested, then added resolutely, ‘Well, I shall just have to make sure I do survive! Ah, but she can’t be that bad.’
‘She’s neither good nor bad,’ Grandpa replied, adding sugar to his tea. ‘You have to understand that, Ammee love. But she has her own agenda. You’ve got to convince her that yours and hers coincide.’
‘What is she, Grandpa?’
‘Potent. That’s all you need to know.’
‘Oh, my word! She’s not the Wicc’Lord, is she?’
The Wicc’Lord, as her grandparents had told her and indeed Hogarth had explained to the sceptical Trelawney, was a mysterious person ‘with great magical power who subtly works for good. They never enter conflict openly but move in the shadows, tipping the balance at great need toward the light.’ It was a title passed from master, or mistress, to student over centuries, perhaps millennia.
‘I shouldn’t think so but, regardless of whether she is the Wicc’Lord or not, you’ll have to impress her,’ stated Senara, applying her cake fork delicately to removing a corner from the delicacy on her bone china plate.
‘Yes, take her a gift,’ agreed Perran.
‘Good grief. What?’ asked Amanda.
‘Something precious,’ he replied.
‘It’s not like I have gold bars or anything. Then again …’ Amanda hurried upstairs to what had been her grandparents’ bedroom. There, on a chest of drawers, was a medium-sized geode of amethyst. Not spectacularly beautiful, the crystals being rather dull and cloudy, it had always reminded Amanda of an ogre’s face. Nevertheless, she hoped it might serve. She came back down with it into the sitting-room to find that her grandparents were each on their second slice of cake and discussing what they might like next.
‘What do you think?’ Amanda enquired, holding up the geode.
Senara nodded approvingly.
‘Yes, that’ll do nicely. How will you present it?’
‘Er, on a cushion?’
‘No, bian,’ said Perran thoughtfully. ‘You’re going to levitate it, all the way down that big hall, right up to her. That’ll show her who she’s dealing with, and no ifs or buts about it.’
‘Yes, your grandfather is quite right.’
‘It’s heavy, isn’t it?’ remarked Amanda.
‘You’ve trained for weights,’ Perran pointed out.
‘Yes. I’ll have to keep it steady, and it sounds like a long way down that hall.’
‘Just focus, you’ll be fine,’ he assured her.
‘All right.’
Amanda was reassured. Perran put aside his plate for a moment and looked at her seriously.
‘Now,’ he advised her, ‘when the inspector gets here, you’ll get nowhere demanding and insisting.’
‘Yes,’ concurred Granny and took a sip of tea. ‘You have to persuade him. After all, it’s his crime scene.’
‘I see. Yes.’
Ding dong!
‘Speak of the devil,’ remarked Senara with a gleam.
‘You’re on, bian.’
Chapter 31
Persuasion
Amanda answered the door with a suitably meek demeanour.
‘Inspector, please do come in. Tea’s ready. We do have time, don’t we?’
‘We do.’
Mike had prepared Trelawney to listen to Amanda, and to think outside the box of what most people called ‘reality’. Hogarth had encouraged him to use the resources Miss Cadabra had at her disposal and was about to put at his. Thomas recognised that he may not be comfortable with Mike’s recommendations, but his back was to the wall now. The Huns were not just at the gate; they were breaking through the portal. If the last hint of salvation was at hand, he must open-mindedly accept it. Either that or be forced to utterly compromise his integrity and imprison a woman whom his every instinct told him was innocent.
A few minutes later, sitting opposite Amanda in Perran’s now-vacated favourite armchair, stirring sugar into his tea, he opened the conversation:
‘Please, tell me everything you haven’t been telling me, Miss Cadabra. What is this lead, where is it, and how do you intend to access it?’
‘Inspector, there is a person, you see. Someone who I believe will have useful information. Someone whom no one has interviewed.’
‘Ok,’ said Trelawney cautiously. ‘And where?’
‘In the vicinity of the library,’ Amanda replied carefully.
‘Vicinity. Where exactly, Miss Cadabra?’
She gestured vaguely. ‘Sort of … below.’
‘There’s another level beneath the library?’ he asked.
‘There is. That is … there was. Long ago.’
‘And this level still exists or not?’
‘It sort of does. That is, for all I know it might still be there. But this person in that place,’ — there was no other way to say it — ‘well, it’s back in time.’
‘I see. We are in those realms, are we? All right. How far back in time?’
‘Well, Jonathan and I are assuming that there were chalk caves here from early times. Under the ground beneath the library.’
‘Ah, in Victorian times?’
‘Rather further back. Chalk has been mined for tens of thousands of years, you see,’ said Amanda, giving Trelawney time to get used to the idea.
‘So, this is a chalk miner from what? Tudor? Iron age times?’
‘Maybe thousands of years ago or just one thousand, possibly a bit less. I’m only going on the style of dress Jonathan saw in his dream. That’s what he told me about, as it happens, when I went to interview him. I thought a dream wouldn’t be much help to you, so I didn’t mention it,’ Amanda added in rather a guilty rush. ‘I don’t know exactly what the time period was, but it appears there was someone in the caves far below who … others went to for … guidance.’
‘A witch?’
‘Yes, I suppose you could call her that. Jonathan and I, we think she’s an oracle.’
‘Oracle? As in Delphi?’
‘Yes.’
Amanda waited to see if he’d offer any more in response. He dunked a shortcake biscuit and glanced up at her.
‘Please continue.’
‘Well, so you see, she’s just what we need, isn’t she? If I ask her the right question.’
‘Logical,’ Trelawney replied, surprising Amanda. ‘What makes you think this person back in 600 BC or whatever will know what happened in the twenty-first century, in a village library?’
‘Well, according to Jonathan’s dream, she seemed to know where he was from. He said he thought she was all-knowing. And aren’t oracles supposed to know about things happening in other times and places and so on? I mean, according to classical writers.’
Amanda looked carefully at Trelawney. Reading facial expressions was a challenge, but she suspected that the one he had now was exhibiting doubt.
‘Look, Inspector, I know it’s not much to go on, but I have to try. I can’t just let Mrs Pag
ely go to prison when I know she hasn’t done anything wrong!’
This was his thought entirely. Consequently, he replied levelly, ‘In principle, I agree, Miss Cadabra. All right, so say we try this. I gather you imagine you just do your wand thing, go back in time and see her, and she’ll give you a lead. Perhaps. Yes, I can buy that possibility. After all, something of that nature has worked before. Unsettlingly,’ he added.
‘Thank you.’
He refrained from adding that the venture had nearly killed them both. ‘She’s friendly, I take it?’
‘Well, erm ….’ Amanda picked up her mug and drank a little of her tea. ‘Does that really matter?’ she asked, with innocent evasiveness.
Trelawney was not diverted. ‘Yes, it definitely does. If anything were to happen to you, I don’t know how I’d face Amelia, not to mention your grandparents. Or your Uncle Mike. Plus, I’d be losing the chief witness in the Cardiubarn case.’
‘Oh.’
‘So … where’s the rub?’
‘Well …’ Amanda took another careful sip of tea to buy some time. ‘The truth is … that Jonathan thinks she doesn’t like me very much. Or anyone but him really.’
‘Have you and she met before in one of your magical contexts of some sort?’
‘No. It’s just that the last time I went down into the stacks, I had the definite feeling that I wasn’t welcome. In fact, I saw the stacks falling down on top of me! Except it was a vision.’
‘Not auspicious,’ Trelawney remarked. ‘So, what’s going to change her attitude and allow you safe access to her?’
‘Jonathan. She likes him. She may regard him as some sort of acolyte. He could pave the way.’
‘He can time travel?’
‘No, but he’s been there in dreams. I could put him in a trance or to sleep, and he could ask the Oracle to see me. He’d think it was just directed dreaming or hypnosis or something.’
It sounded to Trelawney like a long shot.
‘You’ve done this before?’ he asked. ‘Put someone into a trance and got them to lucid dream in some way or go out-of-body?’
