A Very British Witch Boxed Set

by Isobella Crowley

  "A lot more than you could possibly know, Scarlett,” he said pointedly, “but we can't afford to wait on your studies. Your craft takes years to master. You may have potential, but it is mostly unfulfilled. If the silence breaks, you need to tell me. Before it’s too late."

  Seemingly satisfied that he had made his point, Karl returned to his office.

  Scarlett tidied up the magazine rack and thought about Ronnie. Would he be able to keep quiet, and avoid revealing anything that might endanger the rest of them?

  She didn't know what role Ronnie might have played in Jade's death. It seemed impossible that he would kill her, even if she had discovered his secret. And yet she couldn’t rule it out entirely. There were lots of things about Ronnie that Scarlett didn't know. She only discovered his true nature in the last week. She had probably just scratched the surface of who Ronnie really was. She needed to know more.

  Before recent revelations, Scarlett had believed she could trust what Amanda told her about Ronnie, more or less. It would, of course, be filtered through her affection for him, but Amanda mostly told Scarlett the truth.

  Now, Scarlett understood that even Amanda did not know the truth about Ronnie on even the most fundamental level.

  Scarlett had to talk to Ronnie herself, without Amanda around. She couldn't afford to wait too long. Seeing him after work meant seeing him with Amanda present. Amanda got out of work a few hours ahead of Scarlett.

  I have to see him on my lunch break, she thought, and began counting down the hours.

  Chapter Nine

  Bicester Vintners, Bicester, England

  Karl had stepped out of the wine shop, leaving Scarlett alone and in charge. Things were slow, as they often were.

  Scarlett stood behind the register, reading her latest mystery novel. It was a locked-room mystery involving some form of poison, but the clues hadn’t all come together yet and Scarlett couldn’t be sure where it was going. The plot seemed overly complex. She was having a hard time focusing on what she was reading.

  Instead, her mind kept wandering back to her discussion with Tarquin. She had run into him on her walk, as he was he was rooting around in his flower garden. She’d guessed he was collecting samples for a potion, but he hadn’t said anything about it at the time.

  There were a lot of things about Tarquin that made her curious. He had many strange books on offer at his bookstore, and Scarlett had a deep passion for books. After learning that Tarquin was a sorcerer, she realized they had far more in common than just a love of books.

  Scarlett wondered how old he really was, and how much Tarquin must already know about his own craft. As a witch who only recently uncovered her true nature, she had a lot of catching up to do.

  Staring down at the pages of her mystery novel, Scarlett realized that the reason why she was having a hard time focusing on the story was because what she really wanted to be reading was her grimoire.

  The mysteries in that book seemed so much more compelling.

  Scarlett hadn't yet dared to bring the book to work. She didn't want to be caught reading a book of spells in public since she didn't want anyone to know she was a witch. Or to think she was just downright weird.

  But the more she thought about it, the sillier it sounded.

  Scarlett knew most people didn't even believe in witches. She certainly hadn't, even though she had grown up with one.

  Her Aunt Tabitha hadn’t exactly been open about it, but Scarlett had known about her strange and mysterious books, and her garden and her special herbs and teas. She had always thought Tabitha was full of homespun wisdom and old wives’ tales, when all along she had ancient, mystical powers beyond Scarlett's comprehension.

  Of course, Tabitha was also very humble about it. She didn't like to brag, and didn't seek public attention. For all Scarlett knew, Tabitha was as much a master of her art as Tarquin was of his.

  It must've amused her aunt to observe Scarlett's skepticism.

  I bet if I read the grimoire right in the middle of town center, Scarlett thought, nobody would think twice about it.

  And why would they?

  If anyone actually asked her what she was reading, she could laugh it off, and dismiss it as a curiosity. Or say she was doing esoteric research. No one among the normals would actually suspect Scarlett of being a real witch.

  Scarlett heard the bell on the door jingle, and looked up to see Cliff entering the shop.

  She smiled and set down her book. "This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you in here on a nice day like today?"

  Not that Scarlett thought it was a particularly nice day. It had been a terrible night and a rough morning, but when she was at work Scarlett adopted a pleasant, customer-friendly attitude whenever she heard the door open. Like some retail application of Pavlov’s experiments.

  Scarlett noticed that he was carrying several shopping bags.

  "Just been doing some shopping in the market," he said.

  Of course, she thought. She had forgotten it was market day.

  He came up to the counter. "What are you reading?" he asked.

  Feeling suddenly shy, she pushed the book aside.

  "Oh, nothing,” she said. “You know, just trying to pass the time. It's always a little slow in here on market day."

  "I imagine so,” Cliff said with a smile. “Good thing I dropped by then, isn't it?"

  He said it with a kind of cheeky charm, but Scarlett sensed something odd in his demeanor.

  He looks a bit wired, she thought.

  His eyes were dilated and there was a nervous edge in his voice. His hands seemed to shake ever so slightly as he set the bags down on the floor.

  Probably just be too much coffee, she reasoned to herself. Still, she was unable to shake the feeling that something was amiss.

  "I wanted to see how you were. Thought you might be lonely," he continued.

  Scarlett shook her head, smiling back at him. "I don't get lonely," she said.

  He laughed at that. "Everyone gets lonely sometimes."

  "Not me,” she insisted. “Especially when I’ve got a good book to read. Lots of people inside the pages to keep me company. You never get to know people in real life the way you get to know them in a story. In a book, you get all their thoughts and feelings, their plans and dreams, their hopes and frustrations. But in real life, you can be with a person for years and never really get to know them."

  "But that’s fiction,” he countered. “That’s not life. It’s not real.”

  “It’s real enough when you’re caught up in the story.”

  He didn’t seem swayed. “A pale substitution for having someone right in front of you, in the here and now, alive and in the flesh."

  She shrugged. "I suppose that depends on who that someone is."

  He fixed her with a flirtatious gaze. "Imagine that someone was me."

  She looked away. "I don't have to imagine, do I? You just keep popping up wherever I am. Even crashing right into me, if memory serves."

  He put his forearms on the counter and leaned forward. "Lucky you."

  She tucked her book under the counter, if only for something to do.

  "You're in a mood today," she said.

  "In a mood to see you."

  She studied him. "And now you have."

  "Did you miss me?" he asked.

  "How could I? I feel like I see you every day."

  "Not a terrible thing, is it?"

  "Not yet," she said. "But give it time."

  He smiled. "I was hoping you would say that."

  "Say what?"

  He pretended to take a sudden interest in his fingernails. "That you wanted to spend more time with me."

  "Is that what I said?" she said, doing her best to sound uninterested.

  "Near as.”

  "You're in a cheeky mood today, I see,” she said looking him over. “Tell me, are you always like this?"

  He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you just bring it out in me."

  The
buzzing of Cliff’s phone interrupted them.

  "Tarquin," he said to her, after checking the caller ID. He stepped away to talk into the phone in hushed tones.

  Scarlett listened as closely as she could without giving herself away, but she couldn't quite make out what Cliff was saying to Tarquin.

  When Cliff hung up, he crossed back to the counter and picked up his shopping bags.

  "I have to go," he said abruptly. He hesitated briefly as if trying to decide whether he should tell her more, and then he left.

  “No wine today, then?” Scarlett called after him.

  Cliff pushed the front door open, but stopped and turned before leaving.

  "Meet me at the White Hart tonight for drinks?"

  She felt the buzz of excitement, but tried not to show it.

  "Maybe,” she said with a tightness in her voice. “What time?"

  "Say… 9pm? That’s not too late for you, is it?"

  Scarlett allowed herself a smile. "No. That’s cool. I'll be there."

  Cliff grinned and gave her a wink before walking out into the street with a bounce in his step. She giggled to herself as she watched him through the storefront window.

  Oh my God, she thought. I have a date tonight!

  +++

  Jones’s Estate Agents, Bicester, England

  Scarlett went to Ronnie’s office at lunch, hoping to catch him alone. When she arrived Amanda was already there. She and Ronnie were sitting together talking in his office.

  Scarlett rapped her knuckles on his office door, which had been left open.

  “Hey,” she said, looking first to Amanda, and then Ronnie.

  “Scarlett,” he said slightly surprised.

  “Can we talk?” Scarlett asked him.

  She wanted to talk to him alone, but there didn’t seem to be a good way to disinvite Amanda from the conversation. There were certain things that they couldn’t discuss in front of Amanda, which was sure to be awkward.

  Ronnie checked his watch. “Sure, come on in. I have a few minutes.”

  “I’m not keeping you from lunch, am I?” Scarlett asked, hoping that would give Amanda an excuse to make an exit.

  Amanda remained where she was, apparently oblivious to the hint.

  “Oh, no,” Ronnie said. “I just got back from lunch with a friend. But I do have other appointments this afternoon, let’s make this quick. What’s on your mind, Scarlett?”

  Scarlett sat down in the chair next to Amanda. She needed to ask Ronnie some questions, but didn’t want to speak too bluntly.

  Unable to come up with a more natural way to introduce the topic, Scarlett opted to jump in full steam ahead. “I was wondering how things were between you and Jade before this all happened.”

  Ronnie’s eyes narrowed. “Good. Things were good. She was one of my best agents, you know that. We worked together for years. We had a great working relationship.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

  “I heard that maybe there was a falling out between you,” she said not meeting his eyes.

  “A falling out?”

  Finding her courage, she looked up. “That maybe there was some kind of tension.”

  Ronnie’s expression gave nothing away. “No, not that I can think of,” he said flatly.

  “Was Jade thinking of leaving to start her own business? Were you upset she was going to leave you?”

  At that, Amanda glared at Scarlett.

  “Scarlett, are you accusing Ronnie?” Amanda demanded. Though she’d stayed quiet up until now, Amanda’s sudden anger suggested she’d been holding her tongue.

  “No,” replied Scarlett, trying to keep the peace. “I’m just asking.”

  “Like you did when that dead guy turned up in a field?” Amanda retorted.

  “Bill Knight?” said Scarlett.

  “Ronnie had nothing to do with that either, yet you accused him. And now you barge in here with your questions and your suspicions and your lack of evidence and no proof whatsoever. You’re like Miss Marple out of one of your damn books!”

  Scarlett opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself. There was nothing she could say to that.

  Amanda didn’t know the truth about the death of Bill Knight, and she never would. Only Scarlett, Ronnie and a few others knew what really happened that night.

  It was true that Scarlett had once confided her suspicions to Amanda, but that was before Scarlett understood the truth about what had happened. And it was before she had learned the truth about herself.

  Scarlett looked over at Ronnie, imploringly.

  He held her gaze, as if he wanted to say something that he dared not speak aloud with Amanda in the room. Ronnie eyes were cold and dark. He seemed to be warning her, willing her not to tell Amanda what she knew.

  “I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Scarlett said finally.

  “Oh, really?” Amanda replied, crossing her arms.

  “And I apologize to you, Ronnie, if I implied you were involved somehow in Bill Knight’s unfortunate death. I shouldn’t have doubted you, or raised my suspicions to Amanda, but if you remember what happened, there were accusations against me. I was just trying to find out the truth and to clear my own name.”

  Ronnie waved that aside. “That’s all in the past,” he said, seemingly relieved that Scarlett had said no more than necessary.

  Amanda kept her arms crossed and bit her lip with indignation. If she was tempted to escalate the argument, she checked that urge and let the other two speak without interruption.

  “Is it true, then?” Scarlett asked Ronnie.

  “Is what true?”

  “About Jade? About her blackmailing you?”

  He seemed surprised.

  “I wouldn’t call it blackmail,” he said. “It wasn’t like that. But we had our differences, as people do, and she made some demands, that’s true enough.”

  “What kind of demands?” Scarlett pressed.

  “The main thing was, she wanted a bonus,” explained Ronnie. “Of course, she had earned several bonuses before, and I thought she was rather well-compensated, but things were a little tight this year and Jade wasn’t happy with receiving the same bonus as she did last year.”

  “So it was a dispute over money,” Scarlett said.

  “Not even a dispute, really. A negotiation.”

  “She felt slighted?”

  “If she did feel that, she shouldn’t have. Honestly. She was getting more than what I’d promised her.”

  “But not as much as she thought she deserved.”

  “We haggled.”

  “You mean argued?” asked Scarlett, using a tactic she’d learned in the mystery novels she loved so much.

  “It wasn’t even that heated,” he said. “Just a discussion about what each of us expected to get from the other.”

  “Did she threaten you?”

  Ronnie shrugged. “In a way, I suppose. She threatened to leave.”

  “When was that?”

  “Last week,” he said. “She told me she was unhappy here, not with the work itself but with the money, and if things didn’t meet her expectations, she said she would quit.”

  “And you felt threatened by that?”

  “In a way, yes. I suppose I did,” Ronnie admitted. “I’ve come to rely on her for a great part of my business. If Jade walked out the door, it would hurt, yes. She was not exactly irreplaceable, but she was experienced and competent at her job. More than competent. She will be hard to replace.”

  “So it was just about money?” Scarlett pressed.

  “That’s what she told me it was about. I don’t know if she had another agenda. If there was more to it than that, she didn’t express it. At least not to me.” He took a sip from the mug on his desk. “But I certainly didn’t kill her. Why would I? I was trying to keep Jade in the family working for me. And now that she’s gone, it’s like she left me anyway.”

  “But it’s not the same,” Scarlett said. “If she had left on her own, she could
have destroyed your business.”

  “How?”

  “By taking all your clients with her.”

  Ronnie smiled and shook his head, as if the thought itself was ludicrous. “She wouldn’t be able to,” he said. “They’re all loyal to me.”

  Scarlett was skeptical. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I know my clients. I know my business. My clients are my business. You may think this is about who has the best property listing, but it’s really about customer service. That’s my secret weapon. My clients love me, and I make sure I get to know each and every one of them.”

  “Even the ones Jade handled?” asked Scarlett.

  “Yes, of course. If someone walks in off the street, I might not meet them right away, but anyone who shows serious buying interest is someone I make a point to meet. Usually before they ever walk out the door to see a listing.”

  “Meaning you didn’t trust Jade?” she asked.

  “I trusted her to do her job,” he said. “And she did. She was the best agent I’ve ever had. To be honest, I’m beginning to worry that she will be irreplaceable after all. You think I killed her? I wanted her to stay. I wanted her to keep working for me. If there’s anyone who wanted her alive and happy and productive… well, you’re looking at him.”

  Scarlett considered that. Ronnie seemed to be honest and forthright. But as a professional salesman of million-pound properties, that was his job. She knew that sincerity was one of the many masks he wore.

  His claims needed to be put to the test. Especially given what Frank had said about Jade’s plans.

  “I’d like to talk to your clients,” Scarlett said.

  He seemed taken aback by that, but eventually he nodded his agreement. “I can put you in touch with a few.”

  “All of them,” she insisted.

  He raised his eyebrows. “It’s a rather long list.”

  “And it’s rather important I speak with them.” Scarlett held herself as tall as she could in her seat. She would not be deterred easily.

  Ronnie fixed her with a haughty gaze. “You’re wasting your time, Scarlett, but I’ll indulge you. Let me print out a list, and you can call on them with my blessing.”