Amanda Cadabra and The Cellar of Secrets

by Holly Bell

  ‘Yes, we were all piling in.’

  ‘Were you all there? Everyone from Little Madley?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Violet answered vaguely.

  ‘Was everyone from Little Madley in there?’

  ‘Yes … in the end ….’

  ‘Someone came late?’ asked Gwendolen.

  ‘Yes ….’ Violet’s face grew troubled. ‘That man … staying at The Apple Cart .…’

  ‘He was visiting? Do you know where he was from?’

  ‘He was … muttering ….’

  ‘What about, Violet?’

  ‘No .… Oh, I wish I could see my George again, Gwen …. What I wouldn’t give to see my Georgie. I do sometimes, … I see him clear as day …. Oh, I’m so tired .… Do you mind if just close my eyes for a bit .…’

  ‘That’s all right, Violet. I’ll come back another time, when you’re rested.’

  ‘Thank you, Gwennie.’

  Miss Armstrong-Witworth bent and kissed the soft wrinkled cheek, and beckoned Amanda out of the room.

  ‘Did you get what you wanted, Amanda?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  ‘Well, it seems that I was right,’ remarked Miss Armstrong-Witworth with satisfaction.

  ‘About what?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘It was long before I had my training as an agent, and it was only in retrospect, when I thought about it, that I suspected.’

  ‘A spy in your midst?’

  ‘Staying at the pub,’ confirmed Gwendolen. ‘After all, why would he be there and not staying with his family up the road? He was an engineer of some kind, I believe.’

  ‘You think he got hold of some of the Mosquito plans? But how? And if he did, maybe he meant to hand them to the German who parachuted in?’

  ‘But he couldn’t, because the German was captured,’ said Gwendolen.

  ‘Maybe he hid them in the pub. Georgie got wise to it but was killed in the bombing raid before he could report it. That explains the history. But what is the connection with Toby’s murder? And I do think it was murder.’

  Gwendolen asked, ‘Who, today, would stand to be affected by old plans in the ruins?’

  ‘No one at the Centre is old enough to have been the spy,’ Amanda said.

  ‘What about their offspring or grandchildren?’ suggested Miss Armstrong-Witworth. ‘Reputation. Treason is a terrible stain. A stain upon the person, the village, the family. The sins of the fathers …’

  ‘Really?’ asked Amanda. ‘In this day and age?’

  ‘Oh yes, my dear. To some people, reputation is everything. And if such a person’s parent had been selling secrets, more than one, they would have had money after the war; not a great deal but an unexplained amount.’

  ‘If we could identify this man at The Apple Cart, it might lead us to Toby’s killer.’

  Miss Armstrong-Witworth said calmly, ‘Leave that to Cynthia and me.’

  Amanda stopped outside The Grange and pulled out her phone. ‘Look at these, please, Gwendolen. I scanned them into my computer. This is a photo of the design team.’

  ‘Ah yes.’

  ‘And this is a photo of Lost Madley with the pub. You can see the rooms above and the proprietor, I think it is, outside. I’m sending these to your phone and email in case they’re of any help.’

  ‘All right, dear. We’ll be your backroom boys! As soon as we have anything, you’ll hear from us.’

  ‘Thank you. There’s just one more thing. Violet said that she and George used to meet in a room with a fire. Not the bar then?’

  ‘No, the room was off the bar.’

  ‘Miss — Gwendolen, what was the layout of the pub? Can you remember.’

  ‘Oh yes. The door was on the left of the front of the building. You went in through that to the bar, the saloon. The bar where the drinks were served was opposite the entrance. If you followed the bar along to the right, you’d come to the door to the passageway that went out to the lavatories and the door to the cellar. But if you followed the line of the bar to the right-hand wall of the pub part, then you’d come to the room with the fire and the games, dominos and cards and so on.’

  ‘Could that room be under the end of the Centre now?’

  ‘Yes, I believe it could.’

  ‘But the pub bit, the bar, that would be next to the Centre? Still exposed, well, at least, the top bit of the rubble?’

  ‘Yes, I think that would be right.’

  ‘Thank you, Gwendolen, you’ve been a great help.’

  ‘Good. Well, off you go. Now be careful, Amanda,’ Gwendolen cautioned her. ‘You’ve been asking questions and talking to people, haven’t you? Even one person … it’ll be all around the village, and whoever it is that’s responsible for the doctor’s death will know. You may not be safe, or the person may make a run for it. You probably don’t have much time. Whatever you’re planning, you need to do it quickly.’

  ‘I understand, Gwendolen.’

  The former spy got out of the car and waved as she entered The Grange. The clouds were directly above now and thickening. Amanda drove home. Tempest dashed in past her legs as soon as she opened the front door. Senara and Perran were in the hallway to greet her.

  ‘You’ve been doing very well, dear,’ said Granny, leading the way into the kitchen.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Amanda, as she filled the kettle. ‘But I’m stuck now. Georgie — George has the answers. I need to interview him. I have to discover the connection between now and then. I have to get back to the lab. I’ve tried asking to get in, I’ve tried magic, and I’ve tried Trelawney …’

  A phone rang. A mobile phone. Amanda looked around. It was the ringtone of her grandmother’s phone. She went to the bureau in the corner where the grandparents’ paperwork was kept. She’d stashed their mobiles there too.

  Amanda dug until she found it. It had been called by her own phone.

  ‘OK, that was you, Granny. Very clever. You want me to call someone?’

  A second ring tone sounded in the desk. ‘Grandpa? All right,’ said Amanda, ’I get it: someone on both your phones. This could take ages,’ she grumbled taking the two devices to the sofa and sitting down, one in each hand comparing the contact lists. Tempest jumped up beside her, and wriggled under her arm and onto her lap.

  ‘You going to help me?’ she asked him.

  She started with the A’s.

  ‘Aunt Amelia?’

  ‘No, dear,’ said Granny.

  ‘B’s. Dr Bertil Bergstrom?’

  ‘No, Ammy,’ Grandpa said, ‘keep going.’

  ‘I have to hurry! Miss Armstrong-Witworth told me. C’s. Not Claire, I take it. D’s?’

  Abruptly, Tempest put up a paw, and pushed Perran’s phone out of her hand and onto her lap. He swiped the screen with his paw several times, then meowed.

  Amanda bent to look without touching it.

  ‘Hogarth, Michael, Chief Inspector?’

  Quickly she checked that it was on Senara’s phone too. Yes.

  ‘I’d completely forgotten about him. But I barely know him. He used to call from time to the time when I was little …. And then ….’

  ‘He came sometimes when you were out studying at the library or outside,’ Granny told her, ‘but I’m sure he’ll remember you, and know who you are.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Amanda felt reticent. ‘Then again … he was kind to me. Yes, I recall now …. You really think he’d help?’

  ‘Trust us,’ urged Grandpa.

  ‘OK, I must say, I’d never have thought of him as one of my “resources”. But if you say so ….’ Amanda got out her phone and stood up. She blew her nose. It seemed to help before a call she was nervous about making.

  ‘Here goes.’

  Chapter 38

  The Getaway

  Hogarth knew he was there. Getting bolder, if he’d come close enough to alert Alf.

  He heard his neighbour’s raised voice.


  ‘Estate agent? Loik no estate agent I seen near ‘ere, and I censure I knaw them all.’

  Hogarth took a discreet look out of the window, at the man in the dark glasses and unseasonably warm jacket.

  ‘New? Well, what office then? … Yas, you’d best be off. And don’t you come nyst my neighbour’s house agen without an appointment, vitty!’

  The man retreated with one more studied look at Hogarth’s house. Hogarth went into the garden to convene with Alf.

  ‘D’you ‘ear that?’ asked his neighbour.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll give 'im a wor-wop round the ‘ead if he comes round ‘ere agen.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Alf, you won’t have to. I’m off to my sister’s tonight. Most likely, if I clear off for a bit, they’ll lose interest.’

  ‘Aar you, then? Give ‘er my best, and don’t you go werratting yourself about your house while a gone.’

  Hogarth smiled. ‘I won’t. Thanks, Alf.’

  ‘Enjoy yourself.’

  Hogarth knew the stranger would be back and he’d bring others, and they wouldn’t just be watching. One he could deal with, even two, but Hogarth knew it was not yet the time for an open confrontation. And as he said to his neighbour, if he disappeared, they’d find some other lead to follow. And he had inkling where they where hoping it would take them.

  He phoned his sister.

  ‘Tonight.’

  ‘Right,’ she replied. ‘Possible tail?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Hold on.’ Her keyboard pattered furiously as she checked flights and train times.

  Another call showed on his phone. The caller was ‘Senara.’

  ‘Can you hold, Vera?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Hogarth switched to incoming. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Chief Inspector Hogarth?’

  He recognised the voice. ‘Miss Cadabra, if I’m not mistaken. Unless your grandmother is calling from the Great Beyond.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Your number was still on her phone. I hope it’s OK to call?’

  ‘Of course. What can I do for you?’ he asked, amiably.

  ‘It’s a bit difficult to explain. Would it be possible for you to come up? I know it’s a long way and —‘

  ‘It’s not that, Miss Cadabra, it’s that I’m … I have an idea …. Can you hold?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Amanda.

  ‘Vera. Flights from Heathrow or Stanstead?’

  Patter patter. ‘Heathrow 1.30 am. Seats available.’

  ‘Earliest train from here?’ Mike enquired.

  Patter patter. ‘Can Ken come now?’ Vera asked him.

  ‘OK to put you on hold?’ Mike checked.

  ‘Course.’

  Hogarth picked up his landline phone and dialled his former-colleague-turned-cab-driver. ‘Ken? It’s Mike.’

  ‘Alright?’ asked Ken.

  ‘Yes, can you come now?’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Plymouth station.’

  ‘Ten minutes,’ offered Ken.

  ‘Make it twenty? I need to finish packing and lock up.’

  ‘No problem. See you in twenty.’

  ‘Vera? Yes, in twenty, I’ve said to Ken.’

  ‘Good, you’ll be in time for the next train from Plymouth to Paddington. Gets in at 6 o’clock.’

  ‘OK, can you hold again?’

  ‘Uhuh,’ said his sister patiently.

  ‘Miss Cadabra, how would you like to masquerade as a cabbie?

  Taken aback but game, she replied ‘OK. Let’s see.’ She looked out of the window. Claire’s car was in the drive, where she always left it when abroad. Amanda was free to borrow it.

  ‘From where to where?’ she asked Hogarth.

  ‘Paddington station to Heathrow.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll come in my neighbour’s car; it’s an Audi Sportback. Rather noticeable, I’m afraid; it’s lime green. But, at least it doesn’t have Cadabra Restoration and Repairs emblazoned along the side in gold letters.’

  ‘That will be fine.’

  ‘Shall I come into the station and hold up a piece of paper with your name on it?’ Amanda offered.

  ‘No need. I’ll come out and find you.’

  ‘I might have to circle the station,’ she warned him.

  ‘That’s all right. I’ll be wearing dark trousers and shirt with a light jacket. I’ll have a medium-sized wheelie bag with me, and I’ll be carrying a laptop case.’

  ‘OK,’ said Amanda

  ‘6 o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she promised.

  ‘Good. Thanks. Behave like a cabbie, OK?’ Hogarth reminded her.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And then we’ll have a nice chat, and you can tell me what it’s all about,’ said Hogarth comfortingly.

  ‘OK. See you then.’

  Well! thought Amanda. Whatever is this all about? Incognito, Hogarth catching a flight. He must be under some kind of surveillance. And I don’t even know where he’s going.

  ‘Hello, Vera?’

  ‘Still, here, Mike. Train and flight all booked. Got the emails?’

  He checked. ‘Yes. Thanks, Vee, you’re a star. See you in the wee small hours then.’

  ‘Yes, love.’

  ‘Harry there?’

  There was a pause, followed by Vera’s affectionate laughter. ‘He’s gone to the kitchen to make your cheese puffs.’

  ‘I won't be hungry,’ said Mike.

  ‘He says you always say that and you always are!’ countered his sister.

  ‘He knows best,’ Mike conceded.

  ‘That’s what I always tell him,’ said Vera warmly.

  ‘He’s a treasure.’

  ‘So he is. I’m a lucky girl. See you before dawn.’

  Hogarth hung up.

  Efficiently, he packed the last few necessaries, and put his bags by the door. Next, he washed up the dishes in the sink. Finally, taking out the salt, he went to the back door and closed the gap in the line in front of the low step, intoning something under his breath.

  Ken arrived in his black Toyota Prius, and Hogarth handed his bags over the threshold with his right hand. He came out, closed and locked the front door then released the salt from his left fist, murmuring what, if anyone had heard him, would have sounded like an incantation. He took one look back at the cottage and nodded his head.

  Hogarth got into the front passenger seat. Ken moved off, asking, ‘Tail?’

  ‘Almost certainly,’ replied Hogarth calmly.

  ‘Do you know who they are?’

  ‘I can make an educated guess. Something to do with an old cold case. They’re looking for someone. And they think that I can assist them with their enquiries,’ said Mike, with irony. ‘But I don’t think whoever sent them has the resources to have them hanging around. If I buzz off for a bit, I’m hoping it’ll all cool down.’

  Ken was an ex-copper and knew his business. By the time they reached Plymouth station, he was pretty confident he’d lost whoever might be following them. He handed Hogarth his bags out of the boot.

  ‘Don’t you worry, Mike, I’ll keep an eye out.’

  ‘I know you will.’

  ‘Take care. Give Vera my love.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Ken parked where he could see the station entrance, and in a nonchalant manner stood leaning against the car while he lit a cigarette. It was a year since he’d given up, but it was still a useful ruse for loitering.

  After twenty minutes of watching who else entered, he concluded that either he had lost them or they were very, very good.

  He sent a text:

  Probably all clear.

  Chapter 39

  Heston

  Amanda, dressed in jeans and blazer, checked her Pocket-wand was on board, and headed south to Paddington.

  Hogarth waved her down as she rounded the block for the second time and got in. Ne
ither of them showed signs of recognising one another. Hogarth sat in the back passenger seat where he could use her rearview mirror to good effect. It was the height of the rush hour.

  ‘We’ll talk once we’re on the M4,’ the motorway west out of London to its principal airport. ‘I’ll let you concentrate on the road until then,’ said Hogarth.

  He guided her, so there was no uncomfortable silence, past Hyde Park, south through Kensington, west along Hammersmith, past Charring Cross Hospital to Chiswick.

  At the first traffic lights in Chiswick High road, confident that they were free of watchers, Hogarth got out of the back seat and joined Amanda in the front of the car. Finally, they were joining the M4. It was slow near Kew Gardens, but after that, they gathered speed.

  ‘There now. Well done navigating all of that,’ Hogarth commended Amanda.

  ‘Thank you. I don’t often come to these parts,’ she admitted.

  ‘So. How have you been since the funerals?’

  ‘Fine, thank you.’

  ‘And how’s Tempest the Terrible? Misbehaving himself, is he?’

  ‘Same as ever; still thinks most humans are one of nature’s most dreadful and embarrassing mistakes!’

  About six miles before the airport, Hogarth asked Amanda to pull off the motorway into the Westbound Heston Services. Somewhat unprepossessing, they enjoyed the distinction of having been voted the worst service station in Britain. Nevertheless, the drinks were hot, and they managed to find comfortable seats with a measure of privacy.

  ‘Right. Fire away, Miss Cadabra.’

  ‘Please call me Amanda. I remember you used to when I was growing up. You were very kind to me. I haven’t forgotten. I still have the clothes.’

  ‘The clothes?’

  ‘The ones you used to bring for my teddy bears.’

  ‘Ah yes, Honey and er … Jam?’

  Amanda laughed. ‘Marmalade.’

  ‘Yes, well, it was my sister who used to find them, you know,’ Hogarth confessed.

  ‘It was a kind thought, knowing I couldn’t have much chocolate because of the asthma and finding me another present. Not that you needed to bring me anything. But I did appreciate it.’