A Very British Witch Boxed Set

by Isobella Crowley

  “Okay,” said Scarlett, inhaling deeply. “I went up to Robert’s flat with the cleaner and found his body in the living room. And on the coffee table, next to the body was a box of chocolates and a card. The card had a lipstick kiss and was signed with the letter V.”

  Raven hung her head to one side. “I think we should cast a spell that takes us back in time.”

  Scarlett’s ears pricked up. “Back in time—to when?”

  “Not far, just far enough—so we can see who this ‘V’ woman is.”

  Cliff looked sceptical. “Why not just travel back and see who the killer is?”

  She pointed at him. “That’s a good point.”

  Raven bristled. “Time travel magic is delicate. Trust me on this one, the last thing we need to do is travel back and interrupt the murder from happening. We could cause a paradox big enough to wipe Bicester off the map.”

  She shook her head. “That’s…a better point.”

  “Thank you.” Raven said primly. “If we do happen to see the killer, we’re in luck, but that moment in time is too complicated to aim for on it’s own.”

  They all stood in contemplative silence for a moment. The more Scarlett thought it all through, the less confident she felt. “Well, hang on a minute.”

  Raven frowned. “I don’t like the sound of this. What is it?”

  She glanced at the floor. “I might need some help.”

  Raven sighed. “You know what your problem is? You need to start believing in yourself.”

  “Don’t you think that maybe we should get my aunt and Tarquin involved? I mean if it’s such a difficult spell, any witch might need a hand, experienced or not.”

  Raven appeared to weigh things up for a minute before replying. “I don’t think it’s a good idea now, come to think of it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’ll only try and stop you doing it.”

  Scarlett furrowed her brow. “Why would they do that?”

  “Because—and don’t take this the wrong way—because they might not think you’re up to it. It’s a pretty powerful spell, you see.”

  Scarlett took a deep breath. Raven was right in the respect that Tarquin and her aunt would be worried about her and they’d be eager to help. But they wouldn’t try and put a stop to it. They’d see it was the right way to go and most likely assume the responsibility themselves. Besides, there was just something about Raven’s tone of voice that suggested she might be hiding something.

  Her thoughts returned to Tarquin and her aunt, and some of the more recent conversations she’d had with them. Then, recalling something Raven had once said, she felt a shock of enlightenment. “I know the kind of magic you’re talking about. You’ve done this kind of thing before haven’t you?”

  Raven nodded. “Well, I don’t like to brag… ”

  “My aunt warned me about this. And I promised her I’d stay away.”

  “What you talking about?”

  “Black magic. You’re talking about black magic aren’t you?”

  Raven shook her head, wearing a smug grin. “Your aunt warned you about this, didn’t she?”

  Scarlett felt a needle jab into her gut. “Yes. She did.”

  “What did she say, exactly?”

  “She told me about her friend, the way a black sorcerer played with her head until she couldn’t take it anymore and killed herself.”

  Wearing the same smug grin as before, Raven nodded. “You didn’t fall for that one, did you? Honestly, I’ve heard that so many times.”

  Scarlett’s mind went blank. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, dear friend, that’s what they all say, to keep people from dabbling in it.”

  A million thoughts sprung up in Scarlett’s mind, shooting around in every conceivable direction. “Why would they do that, if it’s not dangerous?”

  “Because people are afraid of what they don’t know or understand. It’s all superstitious nonsense, believe me. None of it’s really that bad. You just use the power of spirits that some people, including your aunt and Tarquin, deem to be evil. You just use it to access information from people, read their thoughts, that kind of thing.

  “Now, some people say that this information is used to inflict harm on people, but that’s total rubbish. I’m not saying there aren’t a few rogues out there, but in the vast majority of cases, including cases like ours, the spell doesn’t harm anyone in any way.”

  A thought struck Scarlett like a ton of bricks. “What about the phone signal in Robert’s flat?”

  Raven looked decidedly put out by the interruption. “What?”

  She tried not to sound as reluctant as she felt. “Was there always a signal?”

  Raven sighed. “Yes, of course. Why?”

  Scarlett took a moment to think. When she spoke again, it was about a different train of thought entirely. “I like the sound of the magic and it’s probably the best course of action, all things considered.” She turned to look at Cliff, who had sat down on the bed, and was listening intently. “Cliff? Does this sound like a good plan to you?”

  Cliff nodded. “Yes. I agree that it’s the best course of action all ‘round. Certainly better than what Tim would have had you do.” He sniggered.

  At last, Scarlett felt like she’d achieved something. “So, will you help us?”

  “Of course,” Cliff replied eagerly. “Anything, just say the word and I’ll do it.” He wasn’t exactly trying to hide his motives.

  Scarlett grinned. “Thank you. Good to know I can rely on you.”

  Raven coughed to get their attention. “Okay, people, let’s do this. First things first though, we’re going to need some supplies.”

  +++

  Tuesday, Late Afternoon

  They spent the next half hour brainstorming anything they might need. They were just about at the end of their list when Scarlett heard the front door open, and knew Amanda had arrived home for the day.

  She hurriedly put a stop to any talk of magic, fearing Amanda might hear, and because they’d basically finished, quickly ushered Cliff to the front door.

  They passed the kitchen on the way there, and Scarlett glanced in, wincing slightly when she saw Amanda sitting at the kitchen table, staring boldly back at her. Cliff saw her too, and gave her a wave with a small smirk on his face.

  God knows what Amanda would think now, Scarlett thought. She shoved at him angrily, trying to get him out of Amanda’s line of sight. After throwing a final wry look back at her, he left the house. She waited until he got into his car before turning back to the kitchen.

  She switched the kettle on and turned to acknowledge Amanda, who was sitting at the table with her chin in hands.

  “Want a cuppa?”

  Amanda shrugged.

  Scarlett frowned. “Well?”

  “Nothing. Yes, I’ll have a drink if you’re making one. Thank you.”

  A few minutes later, Scarlett placed a mug in front of Amanda and another at the opposite end of the table. She sat down with her back to the door, leaving just enough room for the wall of awkwardness.

  Scarlett took a sip of tea and ran her tongue around her bitter tasting lips. “Look, Amanda, it’s not what you think. You’re way off the mark, okay?”

  Amanda shrugged. “It isn’t me you need to convince, is it?”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Amanda took a gulp and rapped her mug against the table. “It means—look, just what do you think you’re playing at?”

  Scarlett decided to keep up the pretense. “Sorry Amanda, still not with you.”

  “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you, will I?”

  Scarlett nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind.” She grinned. “I’ve had a long day. Maybe I’m just being a bit dim.”

  “I’m talking about Cliff and Tim.”

  She looked at the ceiling as if trying to think on her feet. “Cliff and Tim? No, still not with you.”

  Amanda took a deep breath and
shook her head. “Look. What was Cliff doing upstairs in your bedroom?”

  Scarlett sighed. That question came with too much baggage to even touch. “It was totally innocent, I assure you.”

  Raven came bounding down the stairs and curled up at her feet.

  Amanda looked at Raven and gaped. “Raven was up there?” She waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t want to know.” She softened. “I care about you, okay? You seem to be happy with Tim. I don’t want you to go jeopardizing that without thinking things through.”

  Scarlett sighed. “Why does everyone keep telling me to think things through all the time?”

  “I’m sorry, but what is it? If it’s not that, then what’s going on? I live here too you know, I have a right to know.”

  Scarlett spent a minute tearing herself in two. She wanted to tell Amanda everything, of course she did, but on the other hand, if she knew, it might put the whole operation at risk. It was a tough decision, but she knew the path she had to take. “I can’t tell you, not right now. I’m sorry.”

  “Secrets and lies, all the time. There you go again. When’s it going to end, Scarlett, just when?”

  The words cut her deeply. It was true, she had been keeping Amanda in the dark a lot of the time lately and it wasn’t fair. She deserved better than that. But, for the moment, Scarlett had to think about the bigger picture. “It’s like we talked about, Amanda. I want to tell you, I really do, but there are some things I just can’t.” She dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Amanda leaned across the table and enveloped Scarlett’s hand. “It’s okay, don’t go upsetting yourself. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

  She sniffed. “And we can still be friends?”

  “Of course. Scarlett, we’ll always be friends.” Amanda sat back. “But—”

  “But what?”

  “But why can you tell Cliff and not me, your best friend?”

  Scarlett skimmed over the day’s events, focusing specifically on what she’d told Cliff. “I can’t. Not the whole picture anyway.”

  “Will you tell me eventually?” asked Amanda, her voice filled with uncertainty.

  “Yes, Amanda, of course I will. But I can’t right now, it’s just not safe. It’s for your own good, please believe me.” She stood up and reached for the door. “I need to nip upstairs and get my gear together. Won’t be a minute.”

  Amanda nodded and stared through the window, as if deep in thought.

  +++

  Waiting for Scarlett to start making noises upstairs, Amanda took out her phone and found Tabitha’s number. Her finger hovered over the green icon for a minute while she deliberated over whether or not she was doing the right thing.

  “Tabitha! Hello, it’s Amanda.”

  “Amanda? Scarlett’s Amanda?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “What can I do for you, dear?”

  “Well, it’s your niece.”

  Tabitha groaned. “I thought as much. Go on, what has she got mixed up in now?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. That’s the whole point. It’s just—she’s being all secretive again.”

  “I thought so.”

  “Yes, well you were right, Tabitha. As always.”

  Tabitha laughed. “Oh, I don’t know about always.”

  “Well, I just don’t know what to make of it all. And something else, Cliff was just here a minute ago too.”

  “Cliff?” Tabitha groaned again. “Oh, she’s not back in with him is she?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. But I think she might be, yes.”

  “I’ll have a word with her, I think that’s best. Or I’ll talk to Tarquin about it, maybe he has an idea of what’s going on.”

  “Would you Tabitha? Thank you. That would be great.”

  “Not a problem, dear.” She sighed. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Vixen’s Residence, Banbury Road, Summertown, Oxford

  Tim turned onto the road leading up to the base and sighed. It had been a difficult conversation. He wanted to help her, really he did, but he couldn’t let her continue getting away with that emotional blackmail trick. Once down that road, the relationship could only end in one way.

  His work required a clear head, rational thinking, unhindered by any emotions that might influence his objectivity. He liked Scarlett a lot and the way things were going, he was going to lose her. He’d done the right thing in the pub earlier. Now, he had to pick up the pieces.

  After a few minutes of silent contemplation, he narrowed it down to two choices. He could open up and tell her how he felt or he could show her. The thought of opening up terrified him. Whilst he knew full well that women liked that sort of thing, he was terrified that he might make an utter fool of himself. Worse still, he’d be humiliated if he’d misread the signals. He might end up getting scarred for life.

  He couldn’t do as she’d asked and show the knife to the ME. That would make her happy, but it would show him to be weak. Besides, he didn’t have the knife, she did. There had to be some other way he could help clear Raven’s name. There just had to be.

  After grunting at the receptionist on his way in to work, Tim made his way to his office and booted up his computer. Looking out through his doorway, he could see that neither Gregory nor Moseley were around, meaning he could find what he was looking for without worrying about someone sneaking up behind him and looking over his shoulder.

  He entered Raven’s name and found a huge list of associated records. He typed V* in the name column, to bring up everyone whose name began with the letter V. The search returned only one record, some woman called Vixen. After making a mental note of her address, and that of the property management company, he switched off his computer and left the building.

  The twenty-minute drive to Oxford passed in no time once he’d reached the open road. Driving along Banbury Road, he examined each flat he came across. He spotted Vixen’s soon enough and made a mental note.

  “Good afternoon,” Tim said as he entered the front office of the property management. “I wonder if you can help me.”

  A heavily made-up woman with short dark hair smiled and gestured at the chair on the opposite side of her desk.

  “Actually, this won’t take a minute,” he said flashing her his identity card. “I’m carrying out an investigation. Could you give me the spare key to an flat belonging to one of your tenants?”

  “What’s the address?”

  Tim told her Vixen’s address and waited for her to fetch the key.

  The woman reappeared, key in hand. “Here you are.”

  Tim dropped the key into his pocket. “Thank you very much.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. You won’t forget to bring it back when you’ve finished, will you?”

  “No, certainly not. Thanks again.”

  Five minutes later, Tim was sitting in his car outside Vixen’s flat. With one hand on the door handle, he paused to consider what he was about to do. He’d just found some woman’s details, lied to get her key and was about to go walking into her flat uninvited. If anyone found out what he was doing, questions were bound to be asked. It might even make the regional papers. Still, what choice did he have?

  The gate creaked as he opened it and latched silently into place behind him. He walked along the path to the flat block. Once inside the building, he performed a quick scan of the mailboxes. After finding Vixen’s empty, he continued on his way to her ground floor flat.

  “Maintenance,” Tim called, as he rapped on the door.

  Hearing no answer, he unlocked the door and carefully opened it.

  The first thing to hit him was the smell. He knew straight away that he’d stepped into a woman’s flat and the woman in question felt the need to maintain a certain image. This was useful information, but he knew full well the dangers of relying too heavily on first impressions, so proceeded inside with an open mind.

  The flat had an open plan layout, with a k
itchen that was marked out from the living room by a change in the flooring. Right in between the two was a wooden dining table with some papers on top. He looked a bit closer. It seemed like Vixen had been trying her hand at mimicking someone’s handwriting; there were a few scraps of notepaper onto which she’d copied out the samples word for word. With each sentence she’d written, her handwriting became increasingly similar to the other person’s, until they were practically identical.

  After taking a photo of the evidence, he continued to examine the rest of the flat. He found photos of Raven pinned to the wall along with pictures of Robert leaving work, and newspaper articles about the area that Raven lived in. Everywhere he looked, there was something linked to Raven and McMillan. He found it hard to imagine how this woman could be completely sane.

  Eventually, he found some handwritten notes, signed with Raven’s name. Looking carefully, he determined that they were the rough details of some kind of project she’d been working on. He took a photo of these, plus several more of suspicious items he’d found scattered around the flat, and made his way back to the car.

  After returning the key, Tim drove back to the base. He wanted to be back before Gregory, so as to avoid having to explain himself. Before he could reach his destination, he had an idea. He pulled over, turned off the engine and took out his phone.

  After calling Scarlett and receiving no reply, he put the phone back on the dashboard and gave the situation some thought. The evidence he’d managed to gather from this Vixen woman’s flat put a whole new light on things. In his mind, the evidence now pointed to the fact that Raven was the innocent party. It seemed his efforts to please her had only gone and served up the need for him to make another apology. He couldn’t work out why he hadn’t thought of it before. Maybe it was because he’d assumed Raven was guilty.

  After trying to call her for a second time, Tim dropped the phone on his lap, feeling elated and disappointed in equal measures. Scarlett was going to be so happy when she found out and, once he’d eaten a considerable amount of humble pie, he would have earned a whole load of brownie points. He had to talk to someone to give them the news. The question was, who?