by Adele Abbott
***
Susan and Neil were seated in the reception area at Washbridge Central Bank. The manager, Lance Westwood, hadn’t been very enthusiastic about her plan, but she had him over a barrel. If she ran a story on how he was using the bank’s money to pay a blackmailer, it would be the end of his career.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Susan said.
“Of course I am.” Neil tried to sound more confident than he felt. He only had Freddy Farrell’s word that he could pull off this spell. What if he couldn’t? What if it went wrong? Freddy had said that Neil would have to make sure he was standing about six feet in front of the cash. What if he couldn’t get that close? And what if Freddy made the wrong thing disappear? All those terrifying ‘what if’ thoughts were going back and forth through Neil’s mind.
“Have you actually seen your friend pull off this illusion?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean: not exactly?”
“I haven’t seen him do it, but another one of my friends has.”
“This had better work, Neil, or I’m going to be in deep doo doo.”
“Good morning.” Lance Westwood, the manager, appeared from a door on their left. “Who’s this?” He looked at Neil.
“Neil is my assistant.”
“Out of the question.” Westwood shook his head. “I agreed that you could accompany me to the vault. No one else.”
“Neil has to be there or the whole thing is off, and I run the blackmail story.”
“Shush!” Westwood looked panic-stricken. “Don’t use the ‘B’ word. Okay, he can come too. Follow me, please.”
Westwood led them down several flights of stairs, and along a corridor without doors. Now they were underground, Neil was even more worried. Would Freddy’s spell still work down there?
At the end of the corridor was a huge vault door built into the wall.
“I’ll have to ask you both to turn your backs for a moment.”
Susan and Neil did as they were asked. Behind them, they could hear the sounds of buttons being pressed. Moments later, there was a loud mechanical clunking noise.
“You can turn around now.”
The vault door was open, and Westwood led the way inside. The sight that greeted them took their breath away. A few feet in front of them was a cage made of steel bars; inside that cage was a huge pile of cash.
“Wow!” Neil gasped. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Five million, give or take a couple of thousand,” Westwood said. “How is this going to work?”
Susan checked her watch. “In five minutes, at eleven o’ clock precisely, the cash will disappear.”
“And who exactly is going to do this? And how can he do it without being here?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, but suffice to say he has the same skills as the blackmailer.”
“And he’ll definitely make it reappear?”
“Yes, of course, there’s nothing to worry about,” Susan said, but in fact, she was plenty worried herself.
Neil had calculated that the distance between them and the cash was just about perfect. Freddy shouldn’t have any problems.
The next five minutes seemed to last a lifetime—for all three of them.
“Why hasn’t it happened?” Westwood said, as soon as the minute-hand on his watch clicked over to eleven o’ clock.
“Give it a moment. It’ll happen any time now.” Susan tried to sound confident.
Fifteen more seconds passed. Then thirty. Then forty-five. And still, the cash hadn’t moved.
“What’s going on?” Westwood demanded, red-faced and clearly out of patience.
Susan turned to Neil who shook his head.
“Just give us a second, please, Mr Westwood.” Susan ushered Neil back out of the vault. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. It should have happened by now.”
“But it hasn’t! The money’s still there.”
“I’ll call Freddy.”
“Who?”
“The guy who’s meant to be doing this.”
“Be quick. Westwood’s going to kick us out soon.”
“Okay.” Neil grabbed his phone. “Oh, no!”
“What now?”
“There’s no signal down here.”
“You’d better get back upstairs and call him. Go!”
Neil sprinted up the stairs. Susan went back into the vault.
“Well?” Westwood demanded.
“Any minute now.” Susan had all her fingers crossed.
As soon as Neil had a signal, he made the call.
“Freddy!”
“Hey, buddy. How goes it?”
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“The cash hasn’t disappeared!”
“Is it that time already? I’m fishing. I lost all track of time. I did catch an amazing bream, though.”
“Never mind the bream. We’ve been standing in the vault for the last few minutes, looking like a right pair of lemons.”
“Sorry. I’ll do it now, shall I?”
“Just give me a couple of minutes to get back down there.”
“Okay. Make sure you’re standing about six feet in front of it.”
“Will do.” Neil ended the call, and charged back downstairs.
“Well?” Susan said, as soon as he re-entered the vault.
“It’s all good.” Neil was gasping for breath. “Just one more minute.”
The three of them stared at the cash. It was difficult to say who was the most nervous: Susan or Neil.
“I don’t have any more time to waste on this nonsense,” Westwood said, as he turned towards the vault door.
“Look!” Neil yelled.
When Westwood turned back around, he saw that the cash had disappeared.
Susan managed a smile. Neil sighed with relief.
“It’s going to come back, isn’t it?” Westwood looked nervous.
“It hasn’t actually gone anywhere,” Neil said.
“What do you mean?” Westwood stared again at the empty space where the cash had been. “Of course it’s gone.”
“No it hasn’t. That’s the whole point of the illusion. You only think it’s gone.” Neil took out the small mirror that he’d placed in his pocket that morning. It belonged to Dorothy, but she’d never know he’d borrowed it. “The cash only appears to have gone, but in fact it’s still there. Look.” He held up the mirror so it was facing the cage.
“What? How?” Westwood looked back and forth between the mirror and the cage. In the mirror, he could see the reflection of the cash, but when he looked through the bars, he saw nothing. “I don’t understand.”
“Why do you think the blackmailers settled for such a small amount of money?” Susan said. “If they really could have got the money out of the vault, don’t you think they would have? They were just playing on your fear of being robbed.”
“When will it reappear?”
Neil checked his watch. “In another five minutes.” And then under his breath, he added, “Unless Freddy catches another bream.”
Sure enough, five minutes later, the cash reappeared.
Westwood was a much happier bunny now. “Thank you. I’m sorry I doubted you. That’s some trick.”
“Now that you know the blackmailer can’t actually steal your money, it’s time for you to take this to the police.”
“But it will look bad for me if I have to tell them I’ve already paid some cash over.”
“Then don’t tell them. When are you due to make your next payment?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. Then you should contact the police now. Tell them that you are being blackmailed, and they’ll no doubt set up a trap to apprehend the blackmailer. You can let them think this is to be the first payment.”
“What about you? What are you going to write in your paper?”
“Don’t worry. It won’t be anything to embarrass you.�
�
***
Charlie was late getting out of work. His boss hadn’t been happy when he’d turned in thirty minutes late that morning, so he’d agreed to stay late to compensate. What with the billboard ads and the tardiness, Charlie knew he would have to watch his step, otherwise he might be looking for a new job. Maybe as a model? He smiled at the thought, but knew that was never going to happen. The odd gig here and there would give him a little extra cash, but it would never be more than that.
Craig was just coming out of the apartment building when Charlie got home.
“Hey, Craig. How’s it going?”
Craig glanced at Charlie, but didn’t reply.
“Any more parties planned?” Charlie said.
“Huh.” Craig snorted, and then brushed past Charlie.
What was wrong with everyone? Jerry and now Craig. Everyone seemed to be in a foul mood.
“What’s going on in your bedroom?” Dorothy snapped, as soon as Charlie walked into the apartment.
“What do you mean?”
“That awful row!”
Charlie heard the sound of music and voices coming from his room.
“It’s those stupid fairies,” Dorothy said. “You’d better tell them to keep it down.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
He’d forgotten all about Greta’s birthday party. He was surprised it was so loud because Bunty had said she would only invite a few of Greta’s friends over for a quiet affair. Inside the bedroom, the noise was even more unbearable, as music and the sound of a dozen voices pounded through the microphone.
Greta was sitting outside her house, reading. Next door, in Bunty’s house, coloured lights were flashing on and off to the beat of loud music. Through the windows, Charlie could see numerous fairies, dancing and drinking.
“Happy birthday, Greta. Is the music a bit too much for you?”
“It isn’t my birthday, Charlie.”
“But, Bunty told me—”
And then the penny dropped. She’d duped him. Again.
Chapter 24
It was the clomping sound that woke Neil the next morning. Socky was back.
“Tobias? I was beginning to think that you’d moved in with your bit of skirt?”
“Is it really necessary to be so uncouth? I’ll have you know Lady Markham is just that—a lady.”
“What are you doing back here? Did she give you your marching orders?”
“Quite the contrary. I’m welcome there anytime, but I still have to look after my interests here.”
“I could do that for you.”
Socky glanced around at the bombsite that was Neil’s bedroom.
“I don’t think so. I will be here for a few days. Long enough for you to tidy my office.”
“It’s not your—never mind. Anyway, it’s probably a good job you came back, before that old woman moved in and nicked your place.”
“What old woman?”
“Some ugly old bird. What was her name? Maggie something.”
“Reardon?”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“She was in here?”
“Yeah. She gave me a right scare. I woke up to find her hovering above me.”
“Then it’s a good thing I came back. I should have known that evil old hag would try to move in, the first chance she got.”
“You know her, then?”
“Oh yes. Quite notorious in her day was Maggie Reardon. You should think yourself very lucky.”
“How do you mean?”
“She was hanged for murder.”
“Who did she kill?”
“I don’t know their names.”
“Their? How many people did she kill?”
“I’m not sure. Six, I think. All young men about your age. She used to creep into their rooms while they were asleep, and strangle them with a sock.”
A shiver ran down Neil’s spine as he remembered that the woman had had a sock in her hands.
“I don’t think you should leave again, Tobias.”
“I thought you preferred to have the place to yourself?”
“No. Whatever gave you that idea. I enjoy your company.”
***
“What’s up with everyone in this apartment block?” Charlie said while eating a banana.
“How do you mean?” Dorothy was doing the washing up, and judging by her expression, not enjoying it.
“Yesterday, I bumped into Jerry and Craig. They both looked like they’d lost a fiver and found a penny. Neither of them was interested in chatting. That’s not like them at all.”
“I saw Jerry yesterday, and he was all smiles. It took me all my time to get away from him.”
“Really? That’s weird.”
“Ghosts! I hate them!” Neil came out of his bedroom.
“Shush!” Charlie managed through a mouthful of banana. “Susan might hear you.”
“What’s Socky done now?” Dorothy said.
“It’s not him, this time.”
“How many ghosts do you have in there?” Charlie threw the banana skin into the bin.
“Socky has been away for a few days. While he was gone, this scary old hag turned up. According to Socky, she’s a serial killer who was hanged for strangling several young men.”
“Nice.” Dorothy went to join them in the lounge. “Can a ghost kill you?”
“I don’t know, and I’d prefer not to find out.”
“Hey, Neil.” Susan appeared. “Isn’t it your audition, today?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“How do you manage to get so much time off work?” Charlie asked. “My boss is on my back just for being a few minutes late.”
“You forget, dear friend.” Neil grinned. “That I am the boss.”
“I bet Debs is chuffed,” Dorothy said.
“She’s got Fable to help her now, and I don’t expect the audition to take long.”
“Neil, I’m going to make a start on the piece about the bank and the disappearing money, later today,” Susan said. “Do you think your friend would be prepared to do an interview?”
“He won’t. Definitely not.”
“Are you sure? It would be free publicity for him.”
“I’m positive. He made me promise we wouldn’t mention him. If I hadn’t given him my word, he wouldn’t have helped.”
“Okay. Fair enough.”
***
Susan had spent all morning talking to more of Stella Yates’ neighbours. Their stories had been every bit as horrifying as those told by the others she had already spoken to. Intimidation of almost every kind had been used in an attempt to get them to sell up, and in most cases, it had succeeded. There were still a couple of hold-outs, but just like Stella, it was unlikely they would be able to hang on to their homes for much longer. What Susan had found most disappointing was that none of them were prepared to go on the record. It was catch twenty-two because Flynn was unlikely to run the story unless more people were prepared to go public.
“There’s someone waiting to see you, upstairs,” Dougal Andrews said.
“Who?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” She could tell by the stupid grin on his face that whoever it was, it wasn’t going to be good news.
Margie was sitting in Susan’s office.
“I told Margie I didn’t know if you’d have time to speak to her,” Stella said. “But she insisted on waiting.”
“Hello, Margie. What can I do for you?”
“I was just wondering if you’d made any progress?”
Margie’s husband had gone missing. She was convinced he was a wizard who had been taken back to the paranormal world.
“I’m still working on it. I thought we’d reached an agreement that you wouldn’t keep popping in to check up on me.”
“I’m sorry, Susan. I do trust you. I know you’re not the same as that horrible Dougal man. But I am desperate for news. Do you have anything at all.” She looked expectantly at Susan.
�
��I’ve been in touch with Greg from PAW again.”
“Did anything come of it?”
“I’ve spoken to a number of other women who have similar stories to yours.”
“So, now you know I’m not crazy, right? You know that I’m telling the truth?”
“Err—yes—well, I certainly think there’s a story here. It’s very odd for so many men to go missing without a trace.”
“Particularly when they’re all wizards.”
“Err—yeah. Look, I am rather busy at the moment.”
“Sorry.” Margie stood up. “I won’t keep troubling you. I know you won’t let me down.” She started for the door. “Thanks again, Susan. You’re an angel.”
“Dougal has really dropped you in it there,” Stella said, once Margie had left.
“I feel sorry for her. She just can’t come to terms with the fact that her husband walked out on her. She isn’t going to let it lie. If nothing else, I’ll have to take another look at these missing person cases.”
“Have you really talked to the guy from PAW?”
“I have actually. He seems keen for us to work together on this. Perhaps I should take him up on it.”
“I’ve seen his photo.” Stella grinned. “He’s kind of hot.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Susan lied.
“By the way, the man from the bank rang earlier.”
“Westwood? What did he want?”
“He said to tell you that the police trap had worked, and that the blackmailer has been arrested.”
“That’s great, thanks. I went to see your neighbours earlier.”
“How did it go?”
“Their stories are horrific, but none of them will go on the record. They’re all too scared.”
“I will. I’ll go on the record.”
“I know, but the word of an employee of The Bugle probably won’t carry much weight. There is something you can do, though. Will you contact Dawn Chalmers and the Shaws, and confirm that they’re happy to go on the record?”
***
Neil came bounding into the fancy-dress shop. “Yes!” He punched the air. “Yes!”
“Let me guess.” Debs rolled her eyes. “You failed the audition?”
