by Holly Bell
Amanda gave up the struggle. ‘Just a minute, Joe, I’ll get you the money. What do I owe you?’
‘Next week’s fine. You go back to bed and get some shut-eye. Want to look your best for ’im, after all, don’t cha!’
Before she could protest, Joe had turned to head off down the path, spotting Tempest on top of a crate of milk bottles, one claw poised to puncture the foil cap of a pint of Jersey cream.
‘’Ere You! Moggy! ’Oppit.’
‘Tempest,’ called Amanda. Her familiar descended daintily. She knew he was less interest in the cream than in getting an irate reaction from Joe.
The cat followed her back upstairs, sat in the bathroom and sauna-ed in the steam from Amanda’s shower. She called out from the waterfall, ‘Give the poor man a break, Tempest.’
He smirked. That was what he had in mind. His favourite sound was of a milk bottle smashing onto the pavement. One day, Joe wouldn’t be quick enough.
Amanda dressed in light tan linen trousers, pale orange top and cream blazer. Pretty enough for a date and practical enough for a therapy session.
‘Morrrnin’, Miss Cadabra,’ said Bill, as he unlocked the reception doors. ‘Bright and airly as expected. Dr Sidiqi told me last night you were comin’. Vairy keen, he was. Told me to send you right in. You know your way, don’t ye? Double doors, corrida, double doors then into the doctor’s room and through that to the lab.’
‘Thank you, Bill,’
‘And you look vairy nice, Miss.’
Amanda smiled, and said, with a faint blush, ‘Thank you!’
She swung and sailed into the waiting room. It felt daring crossing the office and penetrating into the zone beyond. She called out politely.
‘Toby.’
No answer.
She knocked.
No answer.
‘Toby? ... I’m here … Amanda ….’
Slowly, she pushed open the door.
The room was a chaos of furniture askew. The computer and keyboard had been hurled to the ground. The screen was smashed. The panels of a machine near the desk had flown off. The top of it had buckled. There were metal fragments everywhere, and the walls were a mass of dents and ragged pits, where the surface had been ripped out.
Amanda walked in a few paces and stood like Dido among the ruins of Carthage. She looked down. There was Toby, lying on the floor.
She checked for a pulse, but it had long ceased. It looked like the impact from a chunk of metal had collided with Toby’s head. She hoped that death had been instantaneous.
Minutes.
She had minutes.
Amanda observed and photographed. It occurred to her irreverently, ‘There goes my date.’
It was time to leave and raise the alarm. Amanda turned to take one careful step towards the door.
That was when she saw him. Right there. Three feet away and looking straight at her. The man in the 1940s suit.
Amanda was not afraid. As Granny had always said to her, ’Just because someone is dead, is no reason to hold it against them.’
‘Have you seen her?’ asked the man urgently.
‘Who?’
‘I have to tell her. I don’t want her mixed up in this. I want her to be safe.’
‘Sir,’ she said. ‘Did you see what happened?’
‘It was the same person,’ he said insistently.
‘As what? As who?’
‘The one who stole the plans!’
‘What plans?’
‘You’re one of us,’ he said, nodding. ‘I know you are.’
‘A carpenter?’ Amanda asked.
‘That’s right. Have you been working on the wonder too?’
‘I, er .... Where were the plans stolen from?’
‘The hall,’ he replied at once. ‘I know where they’re hidden. I can show you. Tonight. I’ll meet you in here tonight.’
‘Tell me what happened here today,’ she urged him.
He seemed distracted, saying, ‘Terrible mess, and the noise ….’
‘Please,’ Amanda entreated, ‘what happened?’
But he had gone.
Amanda hurried out into the waiting room, and briefly sat on a chair so that she could say she was so shocked she’d had to sit down. Then quickly she went up the corridor, and staggered into the reception where Bill was still on duty.
‘Bill!’ she cried, in an appropriately distraught voice. ‘Come quickly! There’s been a terrible accident!’
He strode ahead of her back into the lab.
‘Go and sit down in reception,’ Bill instructed Amanda. ‘I’ll be right with you. I’m going to phone the police.’ He was already on his phone, pressing 999.
The lab was sealed, and the Centre cordoned off as a crime scene. Amanda knew that she must at all costs get back into that lab. The ghost had the keys to it all. He was surely the only witness. But how to gain access?
Chapter 27
Police Cordon
There was always one, mused Detective Sergeant Baker. Why in the name of heaven was there always one?
‘I blame the telly,’ he said aloud to his junior, who was busily writing up a report.
Detective Constable Nikolaides knew this speech well.
‘You’re probably right, Serg,’ she responded.
‘Agatha Christie has a lot to answer for, if you ask me.’
‘Hmm,’ intoned the constable, well aware that Baker didn’t need a reply; just a call-and-response sound would do.
‘You’d think finding the body would be enough for ’er. But no, she wants to feeeel her way to solving the whole mystery. Can I just ’ave five minutes in the lab, Sergeant. Something might come to me, Sergeant. I might remember something that’s significant. It’s reeely important, Sergeant.’
‘She is a witness though, Serg. I expect she’s anxious to see it all wrapped up. So she can move on. You know?’ offered Nikolaides pacifically. ‘It’s not unusual for people to feel attached to a case when they’re a witness. Want to help.’
‘Well, I know that,’ replied Baker. ‘And didn’t I offer to give ’er five minutes? You were there. Didn’t I say to you, to take the young lady to the room?’
Yes, Serg.’
‘But, “oh, no, Sergeant,” she says, “I ’ave to be alone there or it won’t work, it’d be too distracting if someone else was present. All I need is five minutes.” Now, where would we be if we left witnesses alone at the crime scene, wandering willy-nilly all over it, getting vibes or whatever? I mean, I ask you.’
Nikolaides stopped tapping and looked around at her boss. ‘She did seem a bit worked up about it. Are you sure that wasn’t suspicious, Sergeant?’
‘Oh, of course, she didn’t do it. She’d only met him five minutes ago. And she’s as curious about it as any of us. More so. Besides, it was an accident, as far as we can tell. These things do happen, you know. You’ll find out all the different ways a individual can meet their Maker afore their time, young Nikolaides.’
‘Yes, Serg.’ She continued expertly imputing ninety words per minute, while continuing to play her part in the dialogue. He gave an approving nod in her direction. He was well aware that she was a good deal smarter than he was. A first-class honours degree and sharp as a tack. She’d be promoted out of his office in no time at all, and outrank him, and that was all right with him.
Nikolaides, for her part, was equally well aware that Baker was, first and foremost, a fine, solid, experienced policeman, down to his well-polished boots. She’d asked for her present post and felt that she couldn’t have done better.
‘I dunno,’ he continued, his mind returning disapprovingly to the works of Miss Christie. ‘A individual watches an episode, and suddenly they’re Miss Marple. Think they can run around, ask a coupla questions and suddenly they’ve solved the crime. I dunno what they think we’re ’ere for.’
‘I know what you mean, Serg.’
‘Procedure, N
ikolaides. That’s what solves crimes. Relentless interviewing, evaluating, re-interviewing, gathering and considering evidence and more interviewing, and paperwork and just plain plodding through the job, until you get the picture. And then it’s no use just working out who dunnit. You ’ave to build a case, a case that a prosecutor can take to the courts, and get a conviction with, or it’s only so much thin air.’
‘That’s right, Serg.’
‘It’s the job. What do amachures think they teach us at Hendon Police College? Crochet?’
Amanda had tried.
She had been interviewed by Detective Constable Nikolaides who had been compassionate and considerate. Amanda had answered all of the questions to the best of her ability. No, she knew of no enemies the deceased might have had, or of anyone who held a grudge or might have wanted to harm him.
Yes, she had touched the body to check the pulse, but no, she had not moved it, no, or anything in the room.
How did she come to find the body?
‘The doctor had offered to give me a brief tour of the lab, to explain what the various items of medical equipment were. I had expressed an interest the day before.’
‘You were close friends?’ asked the constable.
‘No, we weren’t close friends. We met in the office, just days ago, for a consultation. We had coffee in the café here. Then after Dr Sidiqi had signed me off and passed me onto one of the therapists, we met for lunch. That was when he invited me to see the lab this morning.
‘I walked in, saw the disorder, then saw the body. I was … it was a shocking scene. I stood there for a while, I felt for a pulse, and then I went and sat in the waiting room to recover, and then I went to get Bill, erm, the warden, who was on security.’
‘Thank you, Miss Cadabra. Is there anything else you can tell us?’
This is my chance, thought Amanda. ‘Well. I’m a very intuitive person. I think there were things I missed. I think if I could just get back into the room, by myself, those things would come back to me.’
The constable kindly but firmly explained that that would not be possible. They could not allow the scene to be disturbed. They had a certain procedure that it was important to follow. She hoped Amanda could understand. Amanda said it was very important to her peace of mind, and could she possibly speak to the officer in charge.
Yes, Amanda had tried. Tried as hard as she could. But there was no getting past either Detective Constable Nikolaides or her superior, Detective Sergeant Baker. She would have to find another way.
Chapter 28
Resources
Once back inside the front door of the cottage, Amanda had the first opportunity to call on the cavalry.
‘Granny! Grandpa!’ Obligingly, they both appeared, and led the way into the living room.
‘Let's all sit down,’ said Granny practically.
‘You’ve had a shock, pet,’ observed Grandpa.
‘Well yes, but that’s not the point. I have to get back in there. That man. He saw it. He saw the murder, he knows who did it.’
‘Now, Ammy. You have to take this one step at a time,’ said Granny calmly, sitting, with characteristically straight back, beside her on the sofa. ‘A witness from another dimension is not the same as one in your dimension. Tell us what he said.’
Amanda repeated the dialogue as best she could.
Grandpa considered and said, ‘What he’s seeing and experiencing could be crossing over between the two, between the now and the then.’
‘Yes,’ said Granny, ‘your job is to disentangle one from the other.’
Amanda had an idea. ‘Did you two see it?’
‘Ammy dear, we can’t be everywhere at once. And even if we did know, you can do this yourself. Just use your resources.’
‘You’ll be fine. We have every confidence in you, love,’ said Grandpa. ‘Like your Granny says, use your resources.’
They faded, leaving only Tempest looking at the spot where they’d been. He sat down and began to groom himself.
‘Well! Once again, we’re on our own,’ Amanda announced, none too pleased. ‘First thing I need is a cup of sweet hot tea.’
She sat in the kitchen, looking out at the fruit trees in the garden turning to silhouettes against the dusking October sky.
‘Use your resources.’
***
Amanda was seven years old. She had a thing about aeroplanes even then. She used to make origami models and levitate them around her room. Amanda wasn’t very expert at it, and, inevitably, they crashed and, sometimes, got stuck.
There was a particular place, on the top of the wardrobe, which was stacked with odds and ends she had yet to find a home for. This area seemed to attract aerial accidents. Sometimes Amanda could manoeuvre the plane out, but there was one occasion on which it was stuck fast. She tried standing on a chair, but she was too short to reach the aircraft.
She went down to Granny and Grandpa in the living room, having afternoon tea.
‘I’ve got something stuck on the top of the wardrobe, and I can’t reach it.’
‘Use your resources, bian,’ said Grandpa, with a wink and a quick movement of his head in the direction of the dining room. She knew what this signified.
Amanda hurried next door and opened Senara’s hereditary tome Wicc’huldol Galdorwrd Nha Koomwrtdreno Aon. After leafing through the book, about two-thirds of the way, she found a shrinking spell.
‘If I can make the box the plane’s wedged against a little smaller then I can fly it out,’ said Amanda, aloud to herself. She hurried back into the living room. ‘Granny, please may I do the shrinking spell on a box on top of my wardrobe?’
‘Yes, dear.’
It worked. However, changes in mass and shape where not Amanda’s forté, and the box, which she had been rather attached to, came out of the process looking sadly crushed. Granny refused to fix it.
‘This is an object lesson, Ammy dear,’ she explained. ‘Magic has consequences. I will give you this hint though: the counter-spell is in the latter quarter of the book.’
It had taken Amanda a week to get the box back into the semblance of its former shape.
***
Seated at the kitchen table, Amanda considered. ‘What resources do I have? Well … I’m a witch, aren’t I? So I’ll use spells. Yes, I know that that spell will have repercussions,’ she said to Tempest, who had paused his consumption of Monarch’s Luscious Liver to shoot her a warning look. ‘But I have to get back in there. He never appears anywhere but in that space, and I know that he knows what happened. I have to try. After dark.’
Amanda dressed in jeans, shirt and jacket. There was as yet no autumn bite in the air. Rather, a storm had been threatening for the last week, without ever quite getting up the courage to let loose, and the atmosphere was humid. She came down the stairs from her room, patting her hip to make sure her Pocket-wand was in place.
‘You coming?’
Tempest got up with an air of ‘I’ve been ready for hours.’
‘Let’s go.’
They left the Astra just inside the Wood and went the short distance to the Centre on foot. Working magic on electronic items was easy. It was just another kind of energy. From the shadows, Amanda pointed her pocket wand up at the CCTV camera and softly pronounced, ‘Kileiniga lytaz rihthdhou ynentel.’
The camera swivelled to the right, away from the path to the reception.
‘Gestilfth.’ It stopped.
She could see through the glass doors that Bill MacNair, was on duty, sitting at the desk facing the door but reading a newspaper. Amanda sidled up to the entrance, wondering if the spell would work through a window. She flicked her wand towards the guard, whispering,
‘Cusslæpath.’ Bill’s eyes closed and he slumped forward gently onto the desk. She felt a ripple in the ether. The same ripple she had felt, and ignored, the first and subsequent occasions that she had used a spell on a living creature. This time
she had the good sense to heed it. Amanda wiped her forehead.
She pushed at the doors. Locked.
‘Agertyn,’ she commanded them, quietly. The bolt slid across, and she was soon in the foyer. If anyone was around, she couldn’t hear them. Amanda moved with Tempest into the corridor and down to the next set of double doors. She peeped through the glass into the waiting room. Oh no! A police constable was standing right in front of it. If she used the spell, he’d fall over.
And he’d certainly have no explanation. A guard on night watch might fall asleep at his desk, but not one standing up. Plus he’d get hurt in the process and maybe into trouble. No. She must do no harm. Amanda knew how to hold an object still and lower it gently but not a human. It was too much magic on something organic, and far too risky
‘Dammit. It’s no good, Tempest,’ she breathed. ‘Come on.’ They returned to the foyer, went out through the entrance, and locked the doors again, with a word, ‘Luxera.’ Amanda tapped her wand towards the sleeping guard.
‘Awaekdenath,’ she breathed. She saw him begin to raise his head and dodged out of sight. Again, the ripple. Amanda wondered anxiously how far it was spreading out.
Witch and familiar made their way along the track. From a safe distance, she magically moved the camera back into position.
‘I’ll have to find another way,’ said Amanda resignedly, but still with determination.
Chapter 29
More Resources
Amanda was seven and a half. And her plane was stuck again. This time she couldn’t see the site of the crash and wedge. Even trying to change the shape of the surrounding objects was having no effect. She went downstairs to tell Granny.
‘Ammy, dear,’ came the patient reply, ‘I’ll say what I always say: use your resources.’
Amanda returned to the scene of the predicament and cogitated. An idea formed in her mind and she went back down to the ground floor, up the garden path and knocked at the workshop. This was a wise precaution when she didn’t know how dust-free it was in there.
