A Very British Witch Boxed Set

by Isobella Crowley

  “Lovely day isn’t it?” Scarlett called out, stepping towards them.

  The policeman turned around. “Hold on.”

  She stopped in her tracks, trying not to let her eyes be drawn to the knife in her bag like metal to a magnet.

  The policeman walked over to her, coming to a stop just inches away. His breath smelt of coffee. “Tell me again, where do you know the occupant of this flat from?”

  “Knitting club.”

  The policeman sniggered. “Knitting club? Oh, do me a f— Oh okay then, you know her from knitting club. And what were you doing here?”

  “I was looking for her. I haven’t seen her for a while now and I was a bit worried, that’s all.”

  “Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to let you go, but eventually, we might, no, we will need to ask you some questions.”

  “Questions? What kind of questions?”

  “Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but we have reason to suspect that she’s involved with a murder.”

  “What? I had no idea. What murder?”

  “That’s all I’m at liberty to tell you right now. We have this flat under surveillance, because she hasn’t been seen since the date of the crime. That’s why we came here today.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do… ”

  “Just answer our questions when we come calling. Go on, you head off home.”

  Scarlett got in her car, pulled out onto the road, and drove away without looking back until she reached a set of traffic lights, where she had a chance to think things over. She’d been lucky to get away with the murder weapon. Although she’d acted purely on instinct at the time, she now reflected that as long as she had it in her possession, not only would Raven be safe, but the police would be missing a vital piece of the jigsaw puzzle.

  +++

  Early Tuesday Afternoon

  Slater Residence, Bicester, England

  Scarlett placed a mug of coffee on the kitchen table and sat down, the sun shining into her left periphery. The chair to the right, the one nearest the cupboards was pulled out, her open bag on top of it.

  This was going to take a lot of sorting out. Each time she’d been digging, she’d discovered something incriminating about Raven. All she wanted was to find a single shred of evidence in her favor, but that, so far, had remained elusive. Sooner or later, she was going to have to face up to the facts and admit to herself that her friend was a murderer. And if that happened, what was she going to do about it? Was her sense of justice going to compel her to hand her friend in or would her sense of loyalty prevail?

  This was another decision that she couldn’t get her head around, so just as with her aunt and Tarquin, she decided to put things off until it was absolutely necessary. But what about Raven? Didn’t Scarlett have a duty to tell her everything she knew, to keep her one step ahead of the police?

  She glanced at the knife to her right. That had been a close shave. If she hadn’t thought on her feet and picked up the knife because her gut instinct told her to, she’d be in all sorts of trouble right now. She might even be locked up. Maybe this was a sign that she was starting to up her game, or it could point to the fact that she’d been too distracted to make decisions rationally. She’d gotten away with it this time, but in the future, it might not work out quite so well. It was with this thought in mind that she proceeded to scrutinize every last detail of the situation.

  The knife needed analyzing. She couldn’t confront Raven about it, not yet, so she had to find a way of gaining some inside information. Maybe if she did her own investigating, she could come up with something to help get Raven off the hook. She fired up her laptop and searched for some online labs that might be able to give her the information she needed.

  A knock. A loud and confident rat a tat tat was coming from the front door. “Coming,” she called, shutting down her laptop. After taking two steps along the hallway, she turned back to fasten up her bag before continuing to open the door.

  “Tim! What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in a moment?”

  “Of course,” said Scarlett stepping aside.

  She led him into the kitchen where she resumed her place at what some would call the head of the table, with her back to the sink.

  “This is a nice surprise, darling. Can I get you a drink?”

  “No, it’s OK. This won’t take long.”

  Her face fell. “Oh?”

  Tim’s face turned as serious as she’d ever seen it. “Listen, I’ve had a call from a friend in the police department.”

  “And? What did he say?”

  “I’m afraid, darling, that he’s recognized your name from the investigation I carried out a few months back.”

  Scarlett’s mind raced as she tried to predict what the consequences of this might be. “I see.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “Well, what else is there to say?” she replied, keeping an even tone.

  “It means, you have to remove yourself from this case. Let the pros get on with it.”

  Under normal circumstances, she’d have been annoyed at the insinuation, but she knew he was speaking from a place of concern. “Why should I do that?”

  “Darling, you have to. If you don’t, then you might end up in some hot water.”

  “Hot water? What do you mean?”

  “Ok, listen,” he leaned in.

  The light padding of feline footsteps descended the stairs and headed towards the kitchen. Scarlett had to find out what Tim had to say, but she couldn’t risk Raven overhearing. “No, not here.”

  Tim nodded. “Where then?”

  “Come on, let’s go down to the pub.”

  “You’re on.”

  Scarlett placed her laptop in her bag and followed Tim outside to his car.

  +++

  White Hart Pub, Bicester, England

  Scarlett followed Tim into the White Hart and took a look around, while he went to get the drinks. She made her way through the deserted pub to a table close to the window, as far away from the bartender as possible. Tim soon appeared, drinks in hand.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking a sip of wine.

  “No problem.” Tim leaned in and whispered, “So, what have you found out?”

  “Well, I was ‘round at Raven’s earlier, and first of all, I found a wastepaper bin with some flowers and—”

  He cut her off. “Is this relevant?”

  Scarlett nodded. “But I also found a knife.”

  “You found a knife?” The incredulous tone of his whisper urged her to keep her voice down.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Did you take a picture?”

  “Lots. But even better than that… ” She unzipped her bag and rooted around in the side pocket. She glanced over her shoulder to see the bartender faced away from them, serving someone at the other end of the bar and laid the plastic-wrapped knife on the table.

  Tim was momentarily lost for words. “Is that what I think it is? How did you come by it?”

  “I found it lying around in Raven’s flat. On the coffee table.”

  “And what, you just picked it up and took it?” Tim looked at her, alarmed.

  “No, well not at first. I only did once the police came around. I didn’t want to risk them finding it.”

  “Well, I can’t really condone that, but if your objective was to protect Raven, then well done. You did the right thing there.”

  Scarlett smiled. “Thanks. I had to think on my feet.” She exhaled through puffed cheeks. “It was a close run thing, I can tell you.”

  “Go on then Scarlett, what happened next? I can see you’re dying to tell me.”

  She shook her head and playfully slapped his shoulder. “Don’t say it like that.”

  He grinned despite his obvious worry. “Sorry.”

  “I was walking through the flat, doing the cleaning—”

  Tim raised a hand and shook his head. “Hold on.
Back up. Why were you cleaning?”

  “Oh, it’s a long story.”

  “Well start from the beginning, not halfway through. How did you manage to get into the flat to begin with, and why were you cleaning?”

  Scarlett began with a bit more enthusiasm. “Okay, right from the beginning, then. I waited outside until a man came down the stairs. I put on my sweetest smile,” she paused to show him, “and asked if he’d let me in.”

  Tim laughed. “You’re an evil genius.”

  “Then, once I was inside, I had a stroke of luck. The cleaner was in the flat next door, so I waited until she’d come out and—”

  “Yes, yes. Go on, how did you manage to persuade her to let you into Raven’s flat?”

  “Well, she was clutching her leg, huffing and puffing, you know—looked a bit worn out.”

  “So you mugged her and grabbed the keys?”

  “No. I told her she looked like she needed a break and offered to do Raven’s flat for her.”

  Tim laughed, sharp and loud, and then tried to muffle it in his hand.

  “So that’s how I got in.”

  “And that’s why you were doing the cleaning? What did you find?”

  “First thing I saw was a bunch of flowers in the bin. They were all bent over at the end. Looked like they’d been forced in.”

  “Out of anger, you mean?”

  “Exactly that, yes.”

  Tim looked like he had stepped right into his work persona. “And what about the knife?”

  “I found that in the living room, on the coffee table.”

  “But you left it?”

  “Yes, I didn’t know what to do—so I just took a photo, and then I took these as well.”

  She pulled out her phone and began to show Tim what she’d managed to document before the sirens had cut her investigation short.

  “Evidence. That’s my girl!”

  “Here’s the flowers, and a pic I found of human Raven, and here’s how I found the knife…”

  “And what about the cleaner, did she see it?”

  “Yes.” She glanced down at the table. “Yes, she did.”

  “Did she ask any questions?”

  “Well, not really. I told her it looked like jam. Don’t think her eyesight’s all that good.”

  Tim contorted his mouth as if fighting off a grin. “Poor woman. What about the police?”

  “They just appeared out of nowhere. I turned ‘round to leg it down the stairs and that’s when one saw me.”

  “And then what?”

  “He marched me back up to the flat, followed me inside, and that’s when I had another stroke of luck.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  “Another of them appeared at the doorway and they started having their own private conversation, which turned into an argument. So I seized my opportunity.”

  “You just reached down and took it?”

  “Well, no, I didn’t do that—obviously. No, I just strolled into the room, like I was looking through the window. Then, when I passed by the table I—”

  “You let your hand reach down naturally?”

  “Not exactly naturally. First, I took out my trusty spare shopping bag and put it over my hand so as not to contaminate the evidence. Then I covertly bent down and wrapped it before I put it into my bag and just as I did, they turned around and started walking through the living room.”

  Tim shook his head. “That’s so unlikely it has to be true. You couldn’t make that up could you?”

  “Oh, one more thing.”

  “What was that?”

  “They said they’ll want to ask me more questions.”

  “Well, they have to say that as standard, don’t they? That’s nothing to worry about. I still can’t believe you took the knife.”

  “I can’t believe the police didn’t see it.”

  Tim nodded, as if she’d confirmed an opinion that he’d held for years. “I can.”

  Scarlett grinned. “I had no idea.”

  Tim fought away his smile and turned serious. “We can’t make any assumptions about them though.”

  “Of course not.”

  Tim paused for a moment, then sighed. “You have to admit, things are looking rather bleak for Raven.”

  Scarlett’s expression turned glum. “I know.”

  “Darling, I know you’re fond of her, but you have to admit there’s a strong possibility that she could be guilty. The evidence is stacking right up against her.”

  “Well, oh, I don’t know about that,” she said picking at the table edge.

  He lowered his voice. “There’s no two ways about it. Darling, you have to face up to the truth sooner or later.”

  Scarlett sighed and met his eyes. “I admit that as things stand, it does look like she’s guilty, but if new evidence comes to light, that could change.”

  “Well, that’s good enough I suppose.” He looked at her sharply. “Well, you know what you have to do next.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Darling, you have to hand the knife in.”

  Scarlett recoiled. “What?! No! I can’t do that.”

  “You have to.”

  “But that will implicate me, won’t it?”

  He took a breath, seeming to steel himself against her incoming protests. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. You have to hand it in. Or at least—”

  “At least what?”

  “Put it back. Put it back where you found it, sit tight and let the police do their job.”

  Scarlett remained determined. “No. I won’t. Not until it’s been confirmed that this is the murder weapon.”

  “And how are they going to do that without the knife.”

  She frowned at him. “Well, you could take it to the ME.”

  Tim shook his head. “No, not this time. You must put it back.”

  Scarlett placed her hand on his and looked at him earnestly. “You could if—”

  “No.” Tim shook her hand off and got to his feet. She felt abruptly stung. “That move isn’t going to work, not this time. You have to put it back. Goodbye, Scarlett.”

  He turned around and stormed out of the pub.

  Chapter Nine

  Late Tuesday Afternoon

  White Hart Pub, Bicester, England

  The door rattled, footsteps marched across the car park, his car door banged shut and he drove off. Scarlett sat watching his car until it turned the corner and sped off into town, before returning to her half empty glass of wine and taking a deep breath. After taking a sip, she replayed the conversation she’d just had.

  To start with, he was right about one thing. All the evidence was pointing towards the fact that Raven was guilty. She considered the way in which she’d asked him to take the knife to the ME and decided to forgive him for refusing her request. It was a big ask after all, and she couldn’t keep relying on her powers of persuasion. It had been only a matter of time before he started to tire of her methods.

  It seemed that all the thoughts swirling around in her head were part of a conspiracy to distract her attention from the most pressing matter, which was undoubtedly the knife. Even if she wanted to take it back, it wasn’t going to be easy. No, this was something she’d have to consider carefully. But one thing was for sure though, she wasn’t going to be pressured by Tim.

  A chair scraped back and someone stood up. Scarlett swung around, her eyes darting across every corner of the saloon. She caught the bartender’s eye who just grinned and nodded. The pub had appeared completely deserted, but someone must have been hidden away in a booth near the back. Footsteps approached.

  Scarlett turned to look through the window as if deep in thought. Before she knew it, someone was standing over her, casting a shadow across the table.

  “Penny for them.”

  The man’s voice sounded familiar. Although she couldn’t place it exactly, she knew she’d been hearing it a lot as of late and it provoked vivid memories, some good and some bad. It
was with a sense of intrigue as much as anything that she slowly turned her head. “Cliff!” she said with surprise as she turned to face him.

  “Mind if I take a seat?”

  “No, no, not at all.” She flashed him a polite smile.

  “You’re looking good today, Scarlett.”

  She shrugged, trying to hide the fact that she wasn’t happy with the intrusion.

  Cliff leaned in. “I overheard your conversation just now, with Tim,” he told her.

  Feeling his breath on her face, Scarlett leaned back and decided to play dumb. “What conversation?”

  “Oh, you know,” he pointed at her bag, leaned across further and whispered, “about the knife.”

  Scarlett stiffened and she glanced around the bar, searching for a way out.

  “Oh, don’t worry.” He smiled. “You can trust me.” His tone suggested that he meant it.

  Scarlett stared through the window, buying herself some time to give the matter some thought. Other than standing her up on their date, Cliff had never done anything to make her think she couldn’t trust him. However, there was just something off about him, aside from the fact that he was a blood-sucking vampire in the guise of a man in a pub.

  She replayed his last sentence and concluded that she’d never heard him use that sincere tone of voice before. Maybe he could be trusted after all.

  “Okay, Cliff. I’m going to trust you. Did you hear the bit where I said I got the knife from Raven’s flat?”

  Cliff nodded. “I heard it all.”

  Scarlett wondered if some of the color had visibly drained from her cheeks. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. Not unless you want me to.”

  She didn’t know what to think. “What do you mean?”

  “I just wondered if there’s anything I can do to help?”