A Very British Witch Boxed Set

by Isobella Crowley

  “So, no one saw what actually happened?”

  The elected spokesman of the group stepped forward. “No, sir, ‘fraid not. We were called to the scene too late for that.”

  “And what about the dogs? Did they get a good scent?”

  “Yes, sir. I think—” He glanced round and lowered his voice. “I think, sir, that the dogs will be our best witnesses. They’ll be able to identify him no problem, sir.”

  “Our priority then is to get a bunch of suspects together for an identity parade, then let the dogs pick him—or her—out. Can we trust them absolutely to find the right man?”

  “Oh, yes. They’re all highly trained scent-recognizing canines. They wouldn’t have caused him—it—any harm, just brought him down, but it wasn’t to know that was it, sir?”

  “No, I suppose not. Great, that’s sorted then, we’ll try and form an identity parade and let the dogs do the business. In the meantime, I’d still like to find out what each of you saw, exactly. So, I want to interview each of you separately, starting with you.” He gestured at the spokesman to follow him. “What’s your name?”

  “Baines, sir. Lance Corporal Baines.”

  “Well then, Baines, follow me, come on, hop to it.”

  Baines saluted. “Oh, yes, sir, coming sir.”

  “No time for all that now. Come on, in my car.”

  Tim sat on the driver’s seat, shut the door, then reached across to open the passenger door. Waiting for Baines to settle, he glanced at him, returned his focus to the windshield and told him to describe in detail everything he’d seen the previous night, specifically the events that had played out in the field in front of them.

  “Well, sir, by the time we got to the scene, the cow had already been eviscerated. Bits of bone were scattered everywhere. We even found remnants a good quarter of a mile from the carcass.”

  Tim looked at Baines through his periphery. “What about blood? Was there much?”

  “Well, we couldn’t see sir, it was dark, but the dogs…”

  “They found some did they?”

  “They did, sir. Went insane. Sniffing and whining in all directions.”

  “So, blood was scattered far and wide, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes, sir. It would seem so.”

  “Um. So, we can definitely rule out a vampire attack?”

  Baines chuckled. “Very funny, sir.”

  “Thank you, Baines, you’ve been a great help. Send in the next in line, will you?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  The next to climb in and sit beside him was a large, rotund fellow with red cheeks and short, cropped blond hair. The odor of underarm sweat filled the front of car, prompting Tim to crack the window as far as he dared. “I need something to call you, what’s your name?”

  “Billings, sir.”

  “Well then, Billings, can you recount the events of last night? Give me as many details as you can.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll try. But I haven’t been home all night, so my mind’s still a bit blurry, sir.”

  “Not to worry, just do your best.”

  “Well—”

  “Oh, one minute, Billings.” Tim wound the window back up to the very top. “Can’t be too careful, can we?”

  “No, sir. The cow had already been eviscerated by the time we arrived on the scene. There were bits of gnawed bones everywhere, scattered far and wide across the field.”

  “Yes, yes. Baines has already told me that. Did you get a good look at the bones?”

  “I did my best, sir, but it was dark. I picked a few up and my ran fingers down, just to get a feel for it.”

  “And what did you conclude?”

  “Well sir, the bone felt a bit like an old baseball bat. Absolutely no meat left at all.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Well, I did feel one or two... indentations. As if someone had banged a chisel into it, sir.”

  “Hmmm. Are you certain it was an indentation? It wasn’t a gnaw?”

  “Definitely not a gnaw, sir.”

  “Would you say it might be a tooth mark, perhaps?”

  “Could be sir, in fact—yes, it felt just like that, sir. Like some kind of sabre-toothed tiger had bitten right into it.”

  “So, we can rule out a domestic animal then? Not even a big dog like a pit bull could have done this, would you say?”

  “Definitely not, sir. Like I said, it would have to be an animal with huge canines.”

  “But you pursued a man?”

  “A man was leaving the scene, but no one saw him eviscerate the cow. Not as far as I know anyway.”

  “Well, thank you, Billings, you’ve been most helpful. Send in the next in line, will you?”

  “No problem, sir.” Billings left the car.

  “Oh, leave the door open. It’s gotten a bit stuffy in here.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Waiting for Billings to trample a meter-long path in the grass, Tim wafted the air in front of his nose and leaned across to take a gulp of the fresh air outside.

  The next to occupy the hotseat was a Scottish chap called MacIntyre.

  Still focusing on the field through the windshield, Tim looked at MacIntyre from the corner of his eye. “Your friends have given me some rather interesting information. Now I’m looking for some specific details, if you can’t answer them, just say no, is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “OK. Did you, at any time, get a good look at the beast?”

  “Well…”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Yes.”

  Tim looked MacIntyre in the eye. “You did? Why didn’t you say something before, man?”

  “No one asked me, sir. Everyone was saying they couldn’t see a damn thing, so I guess I didn’t want to appear foolish.”

  “Well that’s not entirely the right attitude, but never mind that now. Can you give me a description?”

  “Well, not a description as such. Not a very accurate one anyway.”

  Tim glanced at his watch. “Well get on with it, don’t keep me on tenterhooks.”

  “Well, when we were called to the scene, I was out in front, searching through the grass with a stick. About a minute after we arrived on the scene, I saw something, what appeared to be a man, sir. It had its teeth in the cow’s neck, which was still struggling. Then once the cow was still, it looked up and … howled.”

  “Howled?”

  “Well, I think so. It was a long way off. I could only see its silhouette. It was a full moon, you see. Didn’t say anything, because I thought they’d laugh. Well, it’s a bit of a cliché isn’t it? A man howling like a dog under a full moon. They’d have had me carted off to the funny farm before I could blink.”

  “Well, I see your point. But you still should have said something before, MacIntyre.”

  “Won’t happen again, sir.”

  “Well, if you’ve nothing more to add, thank you for this revelation. Call the next man in, will you?”

  The next three couldn’t add much else and Tim found himself drifting away, thinking about what MacIntyre had said. By the time the last man entered, he was dying for a coffee.

  “Ok, I’m dying for a coffee, so let’s make this brief. What’s your name? I need something to call you.”

  “Key, sir.”

  “OK, well then, Key, can you tell me what you saw? I have lots of details now, so I specifically want to know the direction in which you chased it and where it went afterwards.” He handed Key a pen and tore of a piece of ruled paper from his notepad. “Here, draw me a map if you can.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Tim spent the next five minutes staring through the windshield, trying to piece everything together. The sound of a biro scrawling across paper was of an entirely different world.

  “Here you are, sir.” Key handed Tim the map.

  “Oh, thank you, Key. This will be most useful.” He ran his eye over the map and nodded. “Nothing else, Key. N
ow, if you don’t mind, I have a date with a mug of hot, steaming coffee.”

  +++

  Costa Coffee, Market Square, Bicester

  By the time lunchtime came around, Scarlett couldn’t wait to leave the shop and go for a walk around town. Bicester wasn’t a particularly big or busy town. The streets were never crowded like London or Manchester and there were plenty of trees. It was a nice enough place but, to Scarlett, it was just a bit insular.

  Leaving the vicinity of the wine shop, she took a right and at the end of the road turned right again onto Sheep Street. Costa was only a few doors along.

  Stepping inside, she scanned the tables, which stretched to the back of the shop, but Amanda was nowhere to be found. With little choice then, she joined the back of the queue.

  When the barista finally made eye contact and smiled in her direction, she ordered two lattes and took them to a round table that was at the front of the back section of the shop. To her right, were ten or so crowded tables, and beyond them the shop window. Turning to her left, she saw a row of twenty or more, all unoccupied, save for a man in the corner who was clunking away on his laptop.

  The hot white mug had only just caressed her lips when a draft blew in and Amanda appeared, looking flustered.

  Scarlett waved and moved her spoon around the mug as she waited.

  “Hiya,” Amanda said, pulling out the chair opposite and sitting on the cold, hard wood.

  Scarlett’s mug clinked as she placed it back on the saucer. “Hi, you okay?”

  “Oh, you know, busy. Good to get some air, it gets really hot in there.”

  “I bet it does, all those ovens and everything. Well, it’s over with now. You can go home and relax for the day.”

  “Yes, I can.” Amanda took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes. “Mmm, delicious. I needed that.”

  “It’s not just work, is it? I’ve known you for long enough now to tell when something’s bothering you.”

  “Well actually, it’s Ronnie.”

  Scarlett grinned. “I thought as much. What has he done now?”

  “I’d rather not think about it right now. Probably something and nothing anyway.” She looked over her shoulder at the counter. “I’m actually a bit hungry. You?”

  “Famished.”

  “Those paninis look good, don’t they?”

  “They do, I thought that earlier while I was waiting.”

  Amanda got to her feet. “Ham and cheese?”

  “No onions.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Scarlett tried to drain her coffee mug, letting the frothed milk creep along the inside of the cup and into her mouth. After a minute or so of craning her neck back, she placed the mug back on the saucer and glanced down at the froth, which she’d paid for and not been able to enjoy.

  An elderly woman and her grandson walked past and sat halfway down the row of tables, slap bang in the middle between Scarlett and the man with the laptop. In no time at all, a younger woman—probably the boy’s mother—joined them, and from that moment on, the atmosphere changed entirely.

  “Hello, Earth to Scarlett!”

  Startled, Scarlett turned to her friend and grinned. “Sorry, I was miles away. Oh, those look delicious. Here, gimme!” She reached to take her panini and tucked right in.

  Save for the odd mmm, they both chewed in silence for a few minutes, before Scarlett put her panini down and blurted out, “I was thinking earlier about when I went backpacking.” She sighed. “It would be good to do it again before I get too old.”

  “Well, first of all, you’re still in your twenties. If you’re old, then I fear for our future.”

  They both laughed.

  Scarlett’s expression turned wistful. “But seriously… I think I need a break. I just feel that the girl I was at university has gone.”

  “We were younger then Scarlett, and we've both done a lot of growing up since.”

  “Yeah, but still. You know, I lie awake at night, wondering what to do with my life. Worrying that I will just get old with zero purpose and end up old and alone.”

  “Oh Scarlett, come now, you old and alone? Never.” Amanda laughed at the ridiculous thought.

  Scarlett sighed with exasperation. “I’m being serious now!”

  “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that, well, you know, I thought we were settled around here. You have friends, a job, your aunt Tabitha—and Tim.”

  “Oh, I know.” Scarlett took another bite of her panini, getting on with it.

  “How are things between you and Tim?”

  “Well…”

  “Thought things were going great?”

  “They are, but he’s married to his job.” She lowered her voice and leaned right in. “And he might be a sex maniac.”

  Amanda rocked her head back, started to laugh, caught a crumb in her throat and spent the next five minutes coughing and spluttering so loudly that a waitress brought her a glass of water.

  “You alright, Amanda?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I thought he might be the type.”

  “Yeah, this morning—”

  Amanda waved a hand. “Oh, spare me, we’re eating!”

  Scarlett laughed. “Haha, no there’s nothing too crazy to tell. I guess I should feel flattered that he fancies me.”

  “Always makes me feel good when Ronnie expresses his attraction, that’s for sure. Better than the alternative.”

  Scarlett laughed again. “Well true, right? So what’s up with Ronnie? He came into the shop today looking quite rough.”

  “Well yeah, he’s feeling a bit under the weather at the moment. He was due to go on a business trip and he had to cancel. He goes on these trips every so often, very cloak and dagger. Said it might be contagious, so doesn’t want me around there.”

  “Sounds fair enough.”

  “I suppose. Told me this morning to stay away from him, which I found a bit hurtful.”

  Scarlett reached across the table and enveloped Amanda’s hand.

  “But, once I’d thought about it, I could see his point.”

  “Oh.” Scarlett withdrew her hand.

  “Yeah, he’s had this thing for ages now, seems to be lingering on and on forever. So, whatever it is, I don’t need it. Not right now.”

  Scarlett nodded and polished off the last of her panini.

  “But there is a plus side. Means I’m going to be at home for a few nights, I’m free tonight as it happens. Shall we hit the White Hart?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah, why not? What do you say?”

  “I’d love to, but I’m feeling a bit exhausted. Could do tomorrow, though?”

  “Alright by me. So, Tim’s been keeping you up all night has he? Come on, you can’t start off a rumour that he’s a sex maniac without spilling the beans.”

  Scarlett laughed. “I didn’t start off any rumour. I told you in confidence.”

  “I know, was just pulling your leg. I won’t say a word to anyone—providing you give me the gory details eventually.”

  “How about tomorrow night?”

  “Deal.”

  “You’re on.”

  Chapter Four

  RAF Bicester, Launton

  The gate clanked shut. The dark, damp evening made Tim’s fingertips moist and sticky. The map started just after the gate and, as far as he could see, there were no footprints. His foot squelched in the mud and he heaved himself free, only for the process to repeat itself.

  By the time he’d traversed across the mud to the grass, his black shoes had become heavy and brown, but he could deal with that later. Eyes affixed to the map, he continued through the field until he came to the first point of interest: the patch of land where they first laid eyes on the thing.

  A marker fell from his hand, but he continued forward. The grass looked as if it had been trampled on quite recently despite the ceaseless downpour of the previous twenty-four hours. Before long, his trousers were caked in mud and his socks squelched. He’d
have to get himself cleaned up before the briefing, but that could wait.

  An image of the previous night flashed into his mind. Dogs howling, men shouting, bits of cow all over the place, and an enigma fleeing through the wet grass. Couldn’t have been a pretty sight for anyone with a nervous disposition. And that thing, whatever it was, must have been terrified, weighed down by its kill, snarling dogs snapping at its heels.

  Once he’d dropped the fifth marker, he paused to examine the grass, finding a patch of trodden blades. His foot shot forward, and he fought to regain his balance, until, just as he braced himself for a rather undignified fall, he won the battle and breathed a sigh of relief. Presenting himself to his subordinates covered from head to toe in mud was not the image he wished to portray.

  Regaining his composure, something caught his eye to his left, and, leaving his current course, he came across a clump of grass that wasn’t swaying in the breeze quite as much. Even more interesting, a patch of red covered the base of each blade. Another marker fell to the ground and he continued.

  Soon, he came across another red patch and then another. Fearful of veering off course too much, he crouched then reached with his gloved hand to rip up a red spotted clump of grass, which he carefully inserted into a plastic bag, so it could be used as evidence.

  Completely alone and isolated, rain tapping on his back and head, Tim extracted the map to check his bearings. Voices drifted towards him without registering, so he continued, eyes fixed to the grass in front of him, scanning for artifacts with his periphery.

  “Flight Lieutenant Clarke?” Footsteps rushed through the grass.

  Tim looked over his shoulder to see a member of the forensic team running his way.

  “Flight Lieutenant Clarke.”

  Tim scowled, then waited to hear what he had to say.

  “Flight Lieutenant Clarke.” The man caught his breath. “Flight Lieutenant Clarke, I’m from forensics. Have you found anything of interest yet?”

  “Just a few flattened blades of grass with the odd spot of blood here and there.”

  “Do you have any samples, sir?”