Wrapping Up Read online

  I was none the wiser.

  ‘Oh. Wywood.’ Melissa nodded knowingly. ‘Of course. She lives in the stretch of forest that borders Godbody House. It’s named Wywood because Winnie’s family have been there for generations.’

  I felt my mouth grow dry, and I really hoped I had misheard. ‘Did you just say she lives in the forest that surrounds Godbody House?’

  Melissa sipped her tea, smiling. ‘Yeah. Yeah you must have been there with Gabriel, mustn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’ve been there,’ I said, sinking down into my seat. Sure I’d been there – but even if I never had to go to Godbody House again, it would be way too soon.

  ≈

  With the mice bundled up in my pocket, Christine, Melissa and I snapped our fingers and sent ourselves to Wywood. When we arrived in the forest, the only sound was the nervous squeaking of the mice.

  ‘It’s as quiet as the grave,’ Christine whispered.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t feeling quite creeped out enough.’

  Curly popped a head up. ‘I smell our house. It’s that way.’ She tossed her head to the north, and we began to walk. The path was overgrown, but eventually I saw an ornate, wrought iron gate. It creaked when I pushed it open, and I expected to find more overgrown greenery beyond. Instead, the garden I saw took my breath away. Even in the winter, it was stunning. I couldn’t imagine how beautiful it might be come summer – or how beautiful it would have been, seeing as the woman who tended it was dead.

  We followed a winding path, ending at a wooden front door with a half-moon window carved into its upper half.

  The door was unlocked, so we pushed it open and walked into a flag-stoned hallway. Everything inside the house was just as lovely as the outside. The hallway was wide and welcoming, and led into a comfy living room on the right. Every wall was filled with photographs of Winnie with friends and family. Even through the medium of photography, I could see why she was so popular. She had a broad, smiling face and short, dark curly hair. There was a line of freckles running across the bridge of her nose and a twinkle of kindness in her eyes.

  The mice were becoming understandably agitated, so I tore my eyes from the pictures and said, ‘Where to?’

  ‘It happened in the kitchen,’ Big Ears replied. ‘We’d just settled down for lunch with Winnie. Only then that person we told you about arrived, and we never did get to eat.’

  There was only one more door at the end of the hallway, so we pushed it open. The kitchen before us was large, homely and neat – well, neat except for the body on the floor. Winnie Wywood was lying a few feet from the back door, clutching at the sparkly red ribbon that was wrapped around her neck. The most horrible thing about the scene was that the murderer hadn’t just strangled Winnie with the ribbon. They had taken the time to wrap it into a pretty bow, right at the nape of her neck, when they were finished.

  For the first time since I met them, I was glad that the mice couldn’t see.

  Christine bent down and shook her head. ‘Nothing we can do, I’m afraid. I’d say she’s been dead at least two or three hours.’

  On the table a few feet away from Winnie, I saw a full bolt of the ribbon that was around her neck. There were a lot of other craft supplies too – two boxes filled with hats, scarves and gloves, a box filled with wool, a box filled with knitting needles and a box filled with thread. Sadder than any of that, though, was the large pile of presents, wrapped and waiting. I looked away from them, acutely aware that Winnie would never get to see her friends and family enjoy those presents. I picked up the bolt of ribbon instead, and pulled some out.

  ‘What’s this stuff made of?’ I asked with a gasp. ‘It feels so strong.’

  Just as Curly poked her head out of my pocket to speak, a woman appeared in the kitchen, with nine children in tow. She wore a smile on her face and said, ‘Hey Mam, sorry we’re late.’ As soon as she had the words out, her face fell. Her eyes stared in horror at the body on the floor, and she hurried to try and cover up the eyes of the children with her.

  ‘What’s wrong with Granny? Why’s she all wrapped up like that?’ asked the smallest little girl.

  Christine, Melissa and I stood in front of the body, shielding it from the children’s view.

  ‘You’re Winnie’s daughter, aren’t you?’ said Melissa sympathetically. The resemblance was uncanny. It was like staring at a younger version of the dead woman. ‘We’re the Wayfairs. Listen, I’ll bring the kids into the living room, and you can talk to Wanda and my mam.’

  3. Mr Sensitive

  A short while later, the kitchen was filled with Peacemakers and Wayfairs, combing over the crime scene and examining the body. Finn, the Peacemaker Captain, was taking photos, and looking about as disturbed by the scene as any sane person would. His team wore no helmets today, as per his new rules. They still wore their breastplates and magic-deflecting uniforms, but a softer version would be designed whenever we managed to combine the two forces. If ever.

  With my mother spending so much time helping my father readjust, her decision-making meetings with Finn weren’t happening nearly as often as Finn would have liked. I was hoping that, if the new force ever came to be, we would all wear the same uniform. It’d save me having to pick out an outfit every day.

  And seeing as the current Peacemaker uniforms had been designed to fit to any size, I was also hoping for a new uniform that would do the same. That way, when I ate too many mince pies, I wouldn’t have to struggle to button up my jeans.

  But for now, it was jean-busting business as usual. Christine and I sat at the table wearing our civilian clothing, chatting with Winnie’s daughter.

  Gráinne Wywood was in her late thirties or early forties, and although she looked like her mother physically, they didn’t share the same twinkling eyes. But then, it would have been a bit strange if Gráinne had looked happy so soon after her mother’s murder.

  ‘Me and the kids were coming over to help Mam bring her Crafty Ladies stuff to the community hall,’ she told us. ‘I ... I can’t believe this. Who would do this to my mother? Everyone loves her. I mean, sure, she has silly fights with her friends sometimes, but nothing that would warrant this.’ Her eyes were darting around the room, filled with grief and confusion, while she sipped at the sugary tea that Christine had made for her. ‘Who’s that?’ She stared at Dennis, the healer who was examining her mother’s body. ‘Does he have to do that right now?’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ I said softly. ‘Dennis knows what he’s doing. He’s been at this job a very long time. Gráinne, what’s the Crafty Ladies? Is it a club?’

  She nodded, sniffling back tears. ‘Y-yes. They meet at the community hall and knit and sew and do some other crafty things. Mostly knitting, though.’ She pulled the boxes of woollen goods towards her. ‘Some kid is having a fundraiser tomorrow morning and she asked the Crafty Ladies to contribute. My mother was only too happy. It’s for the other community hall. The one in Riddler’s Edge that got burned down a while back.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s the sort of thing my mother was always doing. Helping with fundraisers. Helping everyone in every way she could.’

  I closed my eyes. Riddler’s Edge was a town that neighboured Riddler’s Cove. Although it was a mainly human town, there were a lot of supernaturals living there, and it housed the biggest other enclave in Ireland. I had been there on the night of that fire, trying to salvage the community hall. Because the fire was caused by an Inferno spell, there was nothing to be done except let it burn out. Luckily, the hall had been empty at the time.

  ‘I didn’t know your mother too well,’ said Christine. ‘But I know she was exactly the sort of woman you describe. Still ... someone killed her. And in order to find out who, we need any information you can give us. Was there anyone you can think of who bore a grudge? Anyone at all? You mentioned the odd spat with her friends?’

  Gráinne looked thoughtful. ‘No. They wouldn’t have hurt her. I mean, there was only really Gertrude wh
o argued with my mam – she’s one of the Crafty Ladies. My mam always won all the knitting competitions, you see. Gertrude could get a little bent out of shape. But it was nothing more than petty jealousy. I don’t see Gertrude doing anything like this. And there was Mrs Dove as well. I don’t know her first name. I only know I heard her shouting at my mam once when I arrived. But then my mam hugged her, and Mrs Dove started crying and saying she loved my mam. Don’t ask me what it was about. The woman is a bit highly strung, if you ask me.’

  ‘Another Crafty Lady?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, I think so,’ said Gráinne. ‘But I doubt either of those women would actually hurt her. I doubt any of the Crafty Ladies would. I mean, they were just like any group of friends. They had silly rows from time to time, but they loved each other really. I’d come on another day and they’d all be laughing and getting drunk together. The only people she really didn’t get along with were my husbands.’

  ‘Husbands?’ Christine questioned. ‘Plural?’

  Gráinne gave Christine a defensive stare. ‘We can’t all find Mr Right first time around. Anyway, she was right about most of them. Number one was an alcoholic who died young after losing every penny we had. Number two was a gambler who ran off with the kids’ school money. And–’ She broke off and shook her head. ‘Anyway, the less said about my husbands, the better. But even when things didn’t work out, my mother never said I told you so. She just did what she always did – she helped me out, cheered me up, and got me back on my feet. That’s how she was, and everyone loved her for it. I’m telling you, I can’t think of a single person who would have wanted to hurt her. It had to have been a stranger. A psycho on a rampage. A robbery gone wrong. Because no one who actually knew my mother would do this to her.’

  I could feel the mice moving around in my pocket. I was still doing my best to keep my so-called gift a secret, even though quite a few people knew about it already. Judging by what the mice said to me, Winnie definitely knew her murderer, so I decided to follow that angle, no matter how much Gráinne insisted her mother’s killer couldn’t have been someone she knew. ‘So who would have been a regular caller to your mother’s house, Gráinne?’ I asked. ‘Friends, family, neighbours? The Crafty Ladies?’

  Gráinne looked down into her cup. ‘The Crafty Ladies were always here, but I’m her only family. Me and my kids. And I haven’t been able to see her nearly as much as I’d like lately. I’ve been busy with ... with work.’

  ‘Oh? What do you do?’ I asked.

  ‘I make suits. I have a little shop in Warren Lane – Suits Without Sorcery. Everything is tailored by me. No magic involved. You wouldn’t believe how much a witch will pay for a suit that’s not just been thrown together with magic. So between trying to make a go of that, and raise nine kids ... I just wish I’d made more of an effort, you know. Today would have been our first afternoon together for a while.’

  Christine refilled Gráinne’s cup. ‘We all feel that way when we lose someone,’ she said gently. ‘Guilty about the time we should have savoured. But your mother knew you loved her. And from what you say, she was certainly never short of company.’

  Gráinne huddled over her cup. ‘I suppose so. But I just ...’ Her voice trailed off, and then her eyes lit up. ‘There was someone else, actually, who popped around quite a bit. It was himself. Mr Sensitive.’

  ‘Mr Sensitive?’ Christine and I shared a confused glance.

  ‘You know.’ Gráinne lowered her voice. ‘Mr Sensitive. Him from that ridiculous mansion up the hill.’

  I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘Mr Godbody, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Gráinne wiped her eyes. ‘Him. Gabriel Godbody the Twentieth as he calls himself. The younger Gabriel Godbody – his son – is on TV. Wyrd News in the Afternoon. But the father doesn’t really have his son’s charming nature, if you know what I mean. Calls himself an empath. Says people’s moods and energies affect him. I’ve no idea what he used to chat about with my mother, because he always skedaddled whenever me and the kids came over. But sometimes I’d be on the phone to Mam, and she’d say she had to go, because himself had just arrived.’ Gráinne bit her lip. ‘But ... she didn’t exactly sound happy about it, now that I think about it. Nah.’ She shook her head. ‘I must be imagining things that aren’t there. I’m just desperate to think of someone, anyone, who could have wanted to hurt her. But it wouldn’t have been Mr Godbody. Like I say, I’m imagining she sounded unenthusiastic about his visits. But that would have been totally out of character for my mam. She never had a bad word to say about anyone, even if they deserved it.’

  I tried to keep my expression even, but I knew I was failing miserably. Not everyone loved Winnie. Someone didn’t love her so much that they murdered her. But if Gráinne had seen as little of her mother as she said in recent weeks, then she probably wasn’t going to be able to give us much more. There were, however, a few little listeners who might be able to tell me more about what Mr Godbody was doing at Winnie’s.

  ‘Okay.’ I patted her hand. ‘We’ll keep trying to find out what we can for now, Gráinne. You go and see to the kids.’

  She nodded and stood up. ‘Oh. Wait. Can I still take these things to the community hall for tomorrow’s fundraiser?’ She pulled two cardboard boxes towards her. ‘My mam and the Crafty Ladies worked so hard on all of this. It’d help me to know that all her hard work didn’t go to waste.’

  ‘Of course,’ Christine replied. ‘We have the ribbon that ... that was used in the incident. You can take everything else.’

  She wiped her eyes, picked up the boxes, and left the kitchen. Things sped up after she was gone. Anything that was considered evidence was sent to the Wyrd Court, and most of the Wayfairs and Peacemakers went along too. Melissa returned to the kitchen, but only to tell us she had been called back to work by her new boss.

  ‘Mr Rundt needs something collected from the dry cleaners,’ she said with a grimace. ‘And then he wants to dictate a letter. Either he never learned to use a dicta-quill, or he’s going out of his way to be a pain in the neck. I’m going with the latter. Gráinne’s just gone home with the kids. I told her we’ll be in touch soon.’ Giving Christine and me quick hugs, she clicked her fingers and sent herself to work.

  That left only Christine, me, Finn and Dennis in the room. Well, if you didn’t count the mice. Dennis was a short, stout man, and looked endlessly disappointed by the world. Considering his job was examining the bodies of murder victims, I couldn’t blame him.

  ‘Dennis says it’s death by strangulation,’ Finn told us. ‘The ribbon wasn’t just there for decoration. It was the murder weapon, too.’

  Dennis nodded bleakly. ‘Nice of the killer, wasn’t it? Y’know to turn her into a present for the Winter Solstice.’ He paused for a moment, looking like he was trying to hold back his anger. ‘Anyway, my best guess is that she died between twelve and two. I’ll run some more tests once I have her back at the morgue, but I doubt there’ll be much more to tell you. The ribbon is an incredibly strong grade, but you already know that. Crafty Ladies make their own blend, so I hear.’ He sighed. ‘The wife was thinking of joining. Doubt she’ll be as enthusiastic after this. Anyway, I’ll call you if I have anything more.’ He went back to the body, taking Winnie gently by the hand, and with a click of his fingers, they both disappeared.

  Once he was gone, Finn raised a brow. ‘So. Can I meet the witnesses?’

  They popped their heads out of my pocket.

  ‘Hey there.’ Finn smiled and stroked them in turn. ‘I’m a colleague of Wanda’s. My name is Finn.’

  ‘Finn is a trusted confidant,’ I told the mice, placing them on the table. ‘Did you guys hear Gráinne talking about Mr Godbody?’

  In a shaking voice, Dumpling said, ‘Gabriel Godbody the Twentieth. Or Himself as Winnie and Gráinne call him. Yes, we heard. He’s been calling around a lot.’

  ‘For a chat?’ I asked with a sinking stomach. ‘Or for some other reason?’

&n
bsp; The three of them whispered together for a moment. This time, Big Ears spoke. ‘We’re pretty sure he wants to buy the house.’

  4. Bad Cop ... and Seriously Reluctant Cop

  The thing about a murder this close to the Winter Solstice, is that there are very few people to work it. Once most people headed home from the crime scene, they were headed home for the next week and a half. Both the Peacemakers and the Wayfairs had a skeleton staff.

  ‘Gretel’s still on duty, but she’s stuck at a break-in in the Licensing, Records and Registry Department,’ Finn said. ‘They had their daily takings stolen.’

  ‘Okay, so call me ignorant, but what do they do at the Licensing, Records and Registry Department?’

  ‘Births, deaths, marriages, property records, business licences – all that sort of stuff. They charge an arm and a leg just to put a stamp on a form, so as you can imagine, the thieves got away with quite the sum. And there’s no sign of entry. No traces of magic. Nothing.’

  I absentmindedly stroked the mice. ‘So who does that leave, then? Y’know, to question my boyfriend’s father?’

  Christine winced. ‘Not me, I’m afraid. You know that if I want to have any chance of finding something in my scrying bowl, then I need to get right on it. And your mother is still in Healer’s Hollow with your dad.’

  Finn shoulder-bumped me. ‘Well then. I guess it’s just you and me, kid.’

  ‘Yay,’ I said weakly. ‘This is not going to be even remotely awkward.’

  ≈

  Godbody House was the last place in the world I wanted to visit again. I mean, you don’t have to like your boyfriend’s family, do you? It might make life easier, but it isn’t a requirement.

  ‘You look a bit pale,’ said Finn, as we arrived at the front door. ‘Can’t say I blame you. Is this place creepy or what?’ As if to underline his words, a werewolf howled in the distance. ‘Don’t they normally save their voices for full moon?’