Old-School Witch Page 6

  She squeezed my hand, leaned close to me, and said, ‘I didn’t do it, Miss Smith. I wish I could tell you more, but please believe me when I say that I didn’t do it.’

  Before I could respond, she moved over to the others. By now, all of the Historical Society had arrived. Hector Harte took Norma’s basket and gave her a love-struck smile as he carried it for her, while the others filed in to the church hall.

  Activities were thin on the ground in Riddler’s Edge, so the Historical Society counted almost everyone in town as a member. Because of this, I recognised all of the people who arrived for the meeting.

  Mark Moon, who once had a wild crush on me (or rather he had a crush on my sióga blood) was among the members. Mark was a werewolf who didn’t know he was a werewolf. His grandfather was a wizard who had somehow suppressed Mark’s true nature. I trusted Felim, and knew that he had good reason for subduing Mark’s werewolf side. Werewolves, like vampires, were drawn to the fae. Luckily, my grandmother had helped me with a spell to quell Mark’s crush.

  This morning, he was walking a few steps behind the local school teacher, Miss Catriona Eager. Judging by the way Mark was staring at her hair, it was safe to assume that she was the latest object of his affection.

  Her hair was quite fascinating, it had to be said. She wore it in a bun so tight that her eyeballs bulged. Her bun, however, was nothing compared to the rest of her outfit. She wore a tightly buttoned, high-necked blouse, with a skirt that reached three-quarters down her legs. She had sandals on her feet with thick, white socks beneath. Her glasses were held together with sticky-tape and hope.

  I always admired Miss Eager’s fashion sense, and I don’t mean that sarcastically. I liked the fact that she wore what she wanted to, with comfort and convenience as her only requirement.

  ‘I suppose this is still an active murder investigation, then?’ said Hector. This morning, his tie was yellow with purple spots, and his socks were orange.

  ‘Of course it is,’ answered Dylan. ‘Unless you happen to know who killed Ben?’

  Hector’s eyes widened. ‘Of course I don’t know. If I knew I’d tell you.’

  I patted his arm. I was very glad that I’d be heading to one of the healers in Riddler’s Cove, should I ever get sick, because Hector’s setting seemed to be stuck on Panic. ‘Of course you’d tell us, Hector. And Greg and I aren’t here to write about the murder, so don’t worry about that. We’re just here to take some pictures of the society, and to chat to you all a bit about the old school. It seems like something the locals would love to read about. An old school that suffered a deadly fire in the sixties?’

  As I spoke, I glanced around at all of the members, looking for a reaction.

  ‘A deadly fire?’ asked Mark. ‘I don’t remember hearing about that.’

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t would you?’ Norma tousled his hair. ‘You’re just a young fella. I’ve no memory of the fire myself, mind you. I’d all but forgotten the school until recently. But the last couple of days I’ve found myself remembering how much I used to envy the students in that school.’ She laughed. ‘I always imagined myself as a boarder, sneaking down for midnight feasts and the like.’

  That was the kind of thing I fantasised about as a kid, too – well, in amongst fantasising about having real parents. ‘Can you remember anything else about the school, Norma? Did you know any of the students?’

  She frowned. ‘Well … no. I suppose it was because they didn’t mix with us, though, what with them being child geniuses.’ She let out a loud laugh. ‘Probably afraid that a conversation with the local yokels would drop their IQ a few points.’

  As everyone chatted about the school, I could see that Norma and Hector were the only ones old enough to actually remember it, and their recollections were just as vague as Grace’s. They seemed to believe that it had been a school for geniuses, rather than a school for the supernatural.

  ‘The more I think about it,’ said Hector, ‘the more unsure I am about the whole thing. I mean, what if Mark hurts himself moving that big stone? I’ll have to see to him then, won’t I? And I hate dealing with breaks and fractures.’

  ‘I’ll be moving it with my tractor, Hector,’ Mark assured the doctor.

  ‘That’s all very well,’ said Hector. ‘But you could still hurt yourself. What if the brakes stop working? Or if that bucket thingy falls off and hurts someone else?’

  Greg looked curiously at the doctor. ‘So Doctor Harte, if you don’t mind me asking, what made you go into the medical profession?’

  Hector sighed. ‘My father was a doctor. He made me take over the surgery. I didn’t think it’d be that bad. I mean, there’s only a population of two hundred or so in this town. But lately there’ve been quite a few unfortunate events. All I can say is thank God the other doctors get here as quickly as they do anytime there’s another one.’

  He was right – they were really fast. Almost like magic.

  ≈

  We made our way to the old school in a succession of vehicles, Mark’s tractor bringing up the rear. Norma was riding in Dylan’s car with us, and I caught her staring perplexedly back at Mark all the while.

  ‘Do his tyres look all right to you?’ she asked.

  I glanced back. ‘They look fine. Why?’

  She took out her knitting with a groan. ‘No reason.’

  When we arrived in South Forest, it was clear that some of the society had been here earlier that morning, because a little marquee had been set up to protect us all from the drizzle. There were urns of tea, coffee and soup, and sandwiches and biscuits had been laid out.

  ‘So are any of you used to this sort of thing, then?’ I asked as we stood beneath the marquee. ‘Are there any archaeologists or historians among you?’

  Miss Eager held up a shaky hand. ‘I-I’m a historian,’ she said. ‘Although I must say, the two senior students at the local school aren’t very interested in h-history lessons.’ She bent closer to me, her mouse-like voice squeaking in my ear. ‘O-one of them told me I should teach Home Economics class, seeing as my hair is styled like the buns they baked last week.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ I gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. ‘Kids can be cruel, Miss Eager. But don’t listen to them. Your bun is lovely.’

  She smiled shyly. ‘C-call me Catriona. I have to go now. The others asked me to take over from Ben, so I have to give a speech before we move the stone.’

  There was a microphone set up at the back of the marquee, with the senior members of the society sitting on chairs alongside. Norma and Hector sat there, while the empty chair to Norma’s left had a huge wreath upon it, with the flowers arranged to say: Ben: We’ll Keep Digging in Your Memory.

  Odd sentiments aside, I wished we could dig around in the dead man’s memories. Nollaig’s wedding was on the horizon, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy to pretend I didn’t want to throttle Ron – not while I was also trying to solve this murder.

  There was an enormous bottle of champagne, and while Catriona prepared to speak, Hector poured it into glasses and handed it around.

  ‘Ahem,’ said Catriona, gently tapping the microphone. ‘Ahem. Ahem. Is this on?’

  Norma, who was busy clacking away, looked like she really wanted to take over. ‘It’s on,’ she said. ‘But even a microphone can’t help you if you sound like a mouse. No offence, dearie. Maybe you should have a good glug of that champers to give you a little bit of oomph.’

  ‘Em, no offence taken, Norma,’ said Catriona, looking as though she were about to bawl out crying. She knocked back her glass of champagne, then wiped her mouth and gasped. ‘Th-this is an important day for the H-Historical Society,’ she stammered. ‘We’re only sorry that poor Ben can’t be here to share this blessed day with us.’ She looked at Mark. ‘Mark, can you do the honours, please?’

  Mark gave her an enthusiastic nod, then left the marquee and hopped into his tractor. As he drove towards the huge stone at the gates, we all followed behind. I had wanted to be
here for this moment, just in case there was something we missed yesterday. But once again, I saw no magic in the air.

  Even so, I kept staring at the stone, expectation bubbling in my belly. I was waiting for it to do something, I just didn’t know what.

  Mark’s bucket lifted the stone and dropped it a few feet away. As the ground reverberated, my bubble of expectation became a queasy flutter. Dylan looked eagerly my way. ‘You see something? Or feel something?’

  ‘No, unless you count a sick feeling in my stomach,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I suppose a black coffee followed by champagne isn’t the healthiest way to start the day. The champagne did taste awful. Maybe it was that.’

  He and Greg came to my side, looking concernedly at me. ‘Sick? We feel okay, don’t we Greg?’

  Greg nodded. ‘I’m grand, so I am. I don’t think it was the champagne.’

  ‘Huh,’ I said, straightening up. ‘I figured maybe it was the vibrating ground coupled with what I’d had to drink. It’s gone, whatever it was. I feel fine now.’

  I really did, which was strange considering how sick I’d felt just a moment before. Maybe the stress of the murder on top of the wedding was getting to me. As soon as Greg and Dylan stopped fussing over me, we returned our attention to the school. The Historical Society had come prepared. They used bolt cutters on the gates, threw them open, and began to run into the grounds.

  ‘We’ll n-need to tread carefully in the school,’ warned Catriona. ‘We’ll want to test the floors b-before we …’

  She let her voice trail off, as she realised the fruitlessness of her efforts. No one was listening to her. The rest of the group, except for Norma and Hector, had rushed towards the school, throwing open the doors just as carelessly as they’d opened the gates. Considering how precarious some of the upper floors had seemed the night before, their antics did not bode well.

  ‘This isn’t the way I wanted it to go.’ Catriona shook her head in misery. ‘I t-told them we were just going to open the gates and clear some of the weeds today. I had professors and students from the university arranged to come and look over things in a few days. People who know what they’re doing. The society are just going to tr-trample all over everything.’

  ‘Well?’ Norma gave Catriona a withering stare. ‘You’re supposed to be taking Ben’s place as our fearless leader, aren’t you? You take charge, Catriona. If you don’t want them running around inside the school just yet, then tell them so.’

  The teacher’s face screwed up, and she clutched her stomach. ‘I can’t, Norma. I feel sick all of a sudden. Really sick. It must have been the champagne.’

  Norma tutted. ‘Well, someone had better go and get that bunch of numpties out of there before poor Hector has to deal with them.’

  Hector gave a panicked start. ‘You’re right. I’d better go and calm things down.’

  As we watched Hector race after the others, I felt satisfied that he had things handled. The last thing the doctor wanted, after all, was more patients in his practice. I was just about to suggest we leave them all to it, when I noticed something up on one of the turrets. I shielded my eyes from the rain and stared.

  It was a tawny owl, with shining yellow eyes. It was looking at each member of the society with interest. Feeling my eyes on it, the owl turned to stare at me, and a shiver ran down my spine.

  ‘What’s up, Ash?’ asked Greg. ‘What are you staring at?’

  I pointed to the turret. ‘That owl up there. It’s staring at me.’

  Greg and Dylan shared a glance. ‘You see an owl?’ said Dylan. ‘In the middle of the morning? Aren’t they nocturnal?’

  ‘You guys really don’t see it?’

  As they both shook their heads, I kept pointing. ‘Then you need glasses, the pair of you, because it’s right there.’ As the owl let out a loud hoot I rounded my eyes. ‘See? It’s even hooting at us!’

  ‘Hah!’ Greg laughed. ‘Hooting. You’re an absolute hoot, Ash.’ Sensing my seething anger, he cleared his throat. ‘But I totally believe you, what with you being a super witch and everything.’

  Super witch? I liked the sound of that. But it didn’t change the fact that there was an owl, unseen to everyone but me. ‘Take some pictures of the top of that turret,’ I said to Greg. ‘Maybe you’ll capture an aura, at least.’

  ‘Here.’ He handed the camera to me. ‘You’d better take the snaps. I can’t see the thing, so I won’t have a clue where to aim.’

  As I prepared to take the first photo, my stomach sank. The owl had flown off the roof, and with another loud hoot, it headed towards the surrounding forest. I clicked away desperately, but it was already out of sight.

  9. Return of the Prodigal Children

  The rest of the day was frustrating, to say the least. Dylan couldn’t get hold of Konstantin de Balfe or his wife, so questioning them would have to wait.

  In the Daily Riddler office, Grace was busy interviewing potential new receptionists. Until she found one, Greg, Roarke and I were manning the phones. Seeing as almost every call was for Roarke, I wasn’t too happy about it.

  ‘Maybe we should divert the phones to your direct line,’ I suggested as Roarke hung up from yet another fan.

  He shook his head. ‘If we did that, I’d never get any work done.’ He wasn’t being boastful, just honest. ‘Any luck with the case?’

  I resisted the urge to reply with a rabid growl. It wasn’t his fault I was feeling moody. In between answering the phone, I’d been trying desperately to find a match for the huge stone that had blocked the school’s gates. It was a silly thing for me to become obsessed with, seeing as there was no magic to be seen, but I couldn’t get it off my mind.

  I’d sent a photo of the school and the stone to Adeline and Arthur Albright, members of my mother’s former coven. I’d sent them a description of the ring Norma had mentioned, too, along with photos of the box Ben had bought, and everything that still remained. Adeline was a librarian and chronicler, and Arthur was a Tall Tales teacher, and both were experts in Dark Instruments. As well as that, they were the best researchers I knew. If anyone ought to be able to dig up some information on the school or the box of bric-a-brac, it was them. So far, they hadn’t found any information on any of it, but I was hopeful.

  ‘No luck,’ I told Roarke. ‘But I have asked my mam to look into something for me. The car boot sale where Ben bought the box of bric-a-brac was in the carpark of the Fisherman’s Friend. Everyone who sold items would have had to pay for a spot, so she might have a record of who sold the box to Ben.’

  Roarke gave me an impressed wiggle of the brows. ‘So you’re not just a grumpy face.’

  As the phone rang again, I fixed him with the evil-eye and said, ‘Your turn, smartarse.’

  Gritting his teeth, he picked up the phone. ‘Yes, this is Roarke,’ he said. ‘No, I will not send you a signed copy of my underpants.’ He slammed the phone back onto the cradle. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are not to have fans.’

  ≈

  After work, Grace and I rushed over to the Vander Inn. We were to be Nollaig’s bridesmaids, and this evening we were being fitted for our dresses. As I’d never been a bridesmaid before, I was stupidly excited about the whole thing. I never wore fancy dresses, so it was the one and only aspect of the wedding I was looking forward to.

  Nollaig had already started to prepare the large living room in the Vander Inn for the ceremony, but we managed to clear some space for the dressmaker to do her work.

  The dressmaker was a woman called Luna. She had silver hair, silver make-up, and wore a long, silver gown. I could tell you about her shoes, her jewellery and all the rest of it, but I think you already get the picture – basically there was a whole lot of silver.

  ‘You look familiar,’ I said, as she began to measure me. ‘Oh, do you run Lunas’ nightclub?’

  She shook her head, smiling at me with wide, wild eyes. Nollaig had told me she was the best in the business, but she seemed a little odd to me.
‘I don’t run the nightclub, no,’ she answered. ‘That’s my sister, Luna, and my other sister, Luna.’

  I had no idea how to respond to that. At least I knew my gut feelings were spot on – she’d seemed odd because she was odd.

  ‘Now … could you just hold your belly in while I try to fit your corset?’ she went on. ‘You’re the maid of honour, right? I’ve got one in a slightly different pattern for your skirt if that’s the case. There’s a train on yours. Not as long as the one on the bridal gown, but it’s still very fancy. And there are some amazing shoes to go with it. Four-inch heels. You’ll love it.’

  I gave Nollaig a panicked stare. Luna’s talk of multiple Lunas had seemed like it might be the craziest thing ever uttered, but me as the maid of honour? That was the nuttiest idea in the world. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help Nollaig, but maid of honour was Pru’s job. I was still holding out hope that she would wear the dress with the train and the high-heeled shoes – especially seeing as she was far less likely to trip up.

  ‘I’m the maid of what now?’ I said, trying desperately to breathe as Luna tightened a corset around my torso.

  ‘Pru might still make it,’ Nollaig replied, clearly as hopeful as I was. ‘But if she doesn’t, then yes … I was hoping you’d step in. I did ask Grace, of course, seeing as we’ve been friends for decades, but …’

  ‘But you’re more Pru’s size, Ash,’ Grace said hurriedly. ‘And seeing as Luna’s already started on the dresses, it had to be you.’

  ‘Actually, I could do a gown that will magically expand or contract to fit–’ Luna began, quickly cutting herself off as she caught sight of Grace’s glare. ‘Never mind. More expensive, anyway. I must say, Nollaig, you’ve chosen beautiful dresses for your bridesmaids. I have noticed an awful lot of brides going the other way.’

  ‘Well,’ said Grace, ‘that’s because Nollaig will be the most stunning woman in the room, regardless of what anyone else wears. She doesn’t need to upstage us. She’s far too classy for that.’