Broom Mates Page 3

  “Do you think it was a case of mistaken identity?”

  I nodded slowly. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. The murderer must’ve thought that Nat was Uncle Peter’s heir. Did you know Nat well?”

  Laura shook her head. “No, I only arrived in town last month. Why would anyone want to murder your uncle’s heir?”

  “Someone wants to murder your uncle’s heir?” came a voice.

  I looked up to see the detective standing at the screen door. “Come in,” I said automatically.

  “I made some calls, and your story checks out, Ms Bloom. Your alibi is solid.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What were you saying about someone wanting to murder your uncle’s heir?”

  I carefully schooled a blank look onto my features. “I didn’t say that,” I lied. “You must have misheard me.”

  He shot me a long, penetrating look. I figured his detective spidey senses informed him I was lying, but then again, there was nothing he could do about it, and I could hardly tell him that the presence of a wombat enabled me to see ghosts. I was still half expecting to wake up from a weird dream.

  “I need to take a statement from you.”

  “Okay.” I watched as the ghost slowly vanished.

  There was a commotion outside, and all at once, somebody burst through the front door.

  Chapter 6

  “May we come in?” Oleander said.

  I fought the urge to tell her that she was already in, and so were her companions. She smiled broadly. “We just want to make sure you’re doing okay after your fright.”

  She, Athanasius, the driver, and the other people from the bus crowded around me, peering at me. “I’m doing fine,” I said, “apart from having the most dreadful caffeine-deficiency headache. If I don’t get some good coffee soon, I’ll be sick.”

  They all headed, unconcerned, for the nearest armchairs. “Tea or coffee?” I asked them. “The coffee’s instant, you know,” I added, hoping I wouldn’t offend Laura.

  Oleander shot a look at the detective. “Coffee is illegal in this town.”

  The detective frowned. “Don’t mind me! I’m not about to arrest anyone for drinking coffee here.”

  I took the opportunity to study him more closely. He was good-looking, not as good-looking as Thomas, yet while Thomas’s looks were somehow soft, the detective was attractive in a rugged way. My eyes lingered a little too long on his well-muscled arms and broad shoulders.

  I shook my head. “What about cafés?” I asked them.

  Oleander, Athanasius, and the other residents whose names I had forgotten all nodded solemnly. “It’s a wonder the lack of coffee hasn’t driven us all to an early grave,” Oleander said sadly.

  Harriet, the driver, readily agreed. “I moved to town only last month, and I was surprised that not one single café in town serves coffee. They’ll have to change the law if they want to make this a tourist destination.”

  My head was spinning. It seemed my life had taken a strange turn, and was getting stranger by the moment. “I’ve never heard of cafés that don’t serve coffee,” I said. “How close is the nearest decent coffee?”

  “An hour away,” the detective said. “I was here only a day, before I had to go and buy a coffee machine. The removalists lost mine. Of course, I know it’s illegal to use a coffee machine in East Bucklebury.”

  “That’s where we were going when we saw you, to a café in Southport to get coffee,” Oleander said. “Is that a truck outside?” She handed Persnickle a piece of carrot, and he ate it greedily.

  I jumped up to look out the window. Sure enough, it was the removalist. I hurried out the door, and down the garden path to meet him. “I tried to call, but you didn’t answer,” he complained.

  I hurried to apologise. “My phone was out of battery.”

  He motioned me to stand aside, and soon the removalist and another man were taking my furniture inside. I didn’t have much—after all, my apartment had been tiny. I had a double bed, a Chinese cabinet, a treadmill, and not much else. Of course, the most important item was my coffee machine.

  I told them where everything should go. Given they weren’t there long at all, it was something of an anti-climax. When I went back into the kitchen, all the retirement home residents as well as the detective were staring at my coffee machine.

  “Don’t get too excited,” I cautioned them. “It has to be plumbed in. Can anyone recommend a plumber?”

  “There’s only one plumber in town,” the detective said. “I’ll text you his number.”

  “I’ll call him right now. It’s an emergency.” To my surprise, the plumber said he would come at once if I made him some coffee.

  Alas, it was too late for the others; they were all sitting around, drinking their instant coffee. Harriet, the driver of the bus, leant forward. “Did you really inherit this house?”

  I nodded.

  “I need to take your witness statement,” the detective said.

  Athanasius stood up. “I think that’s our cue to leave. Ms Bloom has had a hard day, and needs to rest.”

  “I’ll go, too,” Laura said. “You’ve got my number now, so call me later. Maybe we can have dinner together.”

  I showed them all to the door, and to my delight, spotted a man with a toolbox halfway to my door. This had to be the plumber.

  I waved to him, and then turned back to the detective. “No one gets between me and my coffee. If you want my statement before my coffee, then you’ll have to arrest me and drag me away in chains.”

  The detective held up his hands in mock surrender.

  The plumber worked fast, and then demanded his cappuccino. Before long, he was standing next to the machine, sipping his cappuccino and making happy sounds. “Any time you want me to do any plumbing work on your house, I’ll give you priority, if you make me cappuccinos. I can’t tell you how hard it is living in a town without coffee.”

  I sympathised. The plumber left, and now I only had to get rid of the detective. I wanted to lie on the sofa with a cold pack on my head and do the unpacking later. I hurried back to the coffee machine and made myself a latte. Someone, presumably Laura, had stocked the fridge. Of course, I had brought my own coffee. “Coffee?” I asked the detective.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” For a moment, he dropped his frosty exterior—almost.

  Two lattés each and one witness statement later, I was beginning to feel human again. “Is there much crime in this town?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “None. I don’t want to alarm you, Ms Bloom…”

  I interrupted him. “Goldie, please.”

  He smiled at me. At that moment, my stomach did flip-flops. Maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten all day. “You can call me Max. I don’t want to scare you, but I think you were the intended victim.”

  “Me?” I squeaked.

  “It was all around town that you were expected yesterday. That is, it was around town that your uncle’s heir was expected in town. No one knew your name or whether you were male or female.”

  I tapped my chin. “I see where you’re going with this. The murderer thought the victim was me.” Of course, I already knew this because the ghost had said as much.

  He nodded. “Precisely.”

  “But why would someone want to murder me?”

  “Why indeed?” He narrowed his eyes. “If something happens to you, who inherits?”

  I shrugged. “The wombat. Seriously, there’s no one else.”

  “Well then, I’m at a loss as to the motive, unless someone had a grudge against your uncle.”

  Something occurred to me. “I don’t know much about small country towns, but I’ve heard that everyone knows everyone else’s business. The murderer didn’t know the builder, whereas the retirement home people did. That means the murderer must be someone new in town.”

  “Yes, that’s obvious.”

  “Oh,” I said in a small voice. And here I was thinking I’d been clever.

&nbs
p; “Goldie, the murderer will strike again, so you’ll need to be careful. I’ll arrange protection for you.”

  I bit my lip. The wombat growled, and the ghost appeared again. “I can’t remember who killed me yet,” he said.

  My stomach sank. The detective was new in town. “Was it this man here by any chance?” I asked the ghost.

  “I’m sorry? What did you say?” Max asked me.

  “Just thinking out aloud.” I looked at the ghost, but he shrugged.

  “I can’t remember.”

  Persnickle came over and looked at me. “He wants a treat,” I said. I wondered if Persnickle wanted a treat every time he channelled a ghost. As I fetched a slice of carrot for him, I wondered if the detective was the murderer. Was it a coincidence that he was driving down the street that day? My house was on the edge of town, and isolated. I’m sure that street didn’t go anywhere important.

  “I remembered something,” the ghost said.

  Chapter 7

  “What do you remember?” I asked the ghost.

  The ghost partially faded. “The person who stabbed me was someone I’d never seen before.”

  “Remember about what?” the detective asked me.

  I thought quickly. “About the victim,” I said. “Had you ever met him?”

  The detective shook his head. “No. I haven’t been in town long.”

  I wondered if he realised he was implicating himself with every word. At least that was a clue—I would ask everyone if they had met Nat before.

  “Again, I don’t want to scare you, but I don’t think you should stay here until the perpetrator has been apprehended.”

  I was alarmed. “What, leave my house? I only just got here. And what about Persnickle? I can hardly stay in a motel that allows dogs, and pretend he’s a giant chocolate Labrador gone wrong.” Persnickle growled as if in agreement with my words. I tossed him another piece of carrot. Although we had only just met, I was already fond of the strange creature. In fact, he was the perfect room mate. I could watch whatever I liked on TV, and I wouldn’t even have to cook for him, just provide water and special wombat food. It seemed he was even house-trained, because there hadn’t been any little accidents as yet.

  “I’ll have to stay here and sleep on the sofa, if you absolutely refuse to leave.”

  Had I imagined it, or was that a flicker of annoyance on his face? “I don’t want to put you to any inconvenience, but I can’t leave here. Someone has to look after Persnickle. Actually, I wonder who’s been looking after him until now?”

  “That would be me.”

  I looked up to see Oleander. I was about to invite her in, but she pre-empted me by striding into the room.

  “I thought Laura was looking after him,” I said.

  Oleander shook her head. “I hadn’t met Laura before today. I’ve been coming over daily to feed Persnickle and spend time with him.”

  “Did you know Nat Jeffries?” I asked her.

  Her face fell. “Yes, I knew him well. I’m dreadfully upset.”

  I mentally ticked her off my list. Athanasius arrived and walked into the room, without bothering to knock. This must be a country custom.

  I was about to ask if he knew Nat Jeffries, when Detective Grayson spoke. “Oleander was just telling us how saddened she is by Nat’s death. I suppose you knew him well, too?”

  Athanasius nodded. The detective and I exchanged glances. “Oleander and I thought we should come over to mind Goldie, just in case the murderer tries to do away with her.”

  I wondered how Athanasius and Oleander could possibly protect me from the murderer, but I wasn’t about to say so. Maybe the sea air was already improving my people skills.

  The detective shook his head. He recovered his composure, and said, “I think it’s safer if you stay away, because the murderer could harm you. More detectives will arrive tomorrow, and meanwhile, I’ll stay guard on the sofa here tonight.”

  Oleander clapped her hands. “Excellent. We can stay too, can’t we, Athanasius?”

  Before he could respond, there was another person at the door. This time, the person knocked. “Come in,” I said.

  When she walked into the room, I recognised her as Harriet, the person who had been driving the van earlier. Athanasius and Oleander looked surprised to see her.

  “I’m terribly sorry to come here,” she said, wringing her hands in a gesture of nervousness. “It’s just that when you both left the retirement home, I was a little afraid, what with a murderer on the loose. I followed you here.”

  “I’m sure the murderer won’t strike at the retirement home,” Oleander said. I could see that Harriet’s presence made her uncomfortable.

  I wondered how to get them all to leave, and then saw I was fighting a losing battle. “Coffee?” I asked.

  They all accepted at a rapid pace, which made me suspicious that the real reason for them being here was to procure decent coffee rather than out of any concern for my welfare. After taking their orders, I walked into the kitchen, grateful to be away from them for the moment. I hadn’t been around so many people in a long time.

  Persnickle followed me into the kitchen. “I’m glad you want me for me, not for my coffee,” I told him. He grunted in response.

  When I walked back out, Laura was sitting with the others. “I didn’t hear you coming,” I told her.

  She held up two bottles of champagne. “I was going to invite you for dinner, but then I saw all the cars over here, so thought I’d bring the bubbly over.”

  Gosh, how many more people were going to arrive at my house? “Thanks,” I said. I set a coffee cup in front of Oleander and one in front of Athanasius, and then said to Detective Grayson and Harriet, “I’ll just pop back into the kitchen for yours. After we have coffee, we can all have champagne.”

  “I’ll help you,” Laura said.

  When we were in the kitchen, she whispered to me, “There’s something I have to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you earlier because you were so shaken up. I planned to tell you over dinner tonight, but I don’t think it can wait, because you could be in danger.” Her face was white and drawn, and she was trembling slightly.

  “What is it?” I asked her. I prepared myself to be shocked, and just when I was settling into the idea that I could speak to ghosts and had a wombat as a familiar. Oh, and that I was a sea witch, whatever that was.

  She touched my arm lightly. “Laura, you’re from a long line of sea witches.”

  I interrupted her. “You’ve told me that already. Could you come straight to the point? You’re scaring me.”

  “Sorry,” Laura whispered. She leant closer, and said, “If someone kills a sea witch, then they get that sea witch’s powers.”

  I grabbed the benchtop behind me to steady myself. “So that’s why Nat was murdered? That’s why someone wants to kill me.” At that moment, I realised I truly was in danger. I took a deep breath, and then added, “So someone would kill me just to be able to speak to ghosts? Would they steal Persnickle, too?”

  Laura shook her head. “No, Persnickle is your familiar.”

  “So if someone murdered me, they could speak to ghosts with the help of their own familiar?”

  Laura nodded. “And they would get all your powers.”

  “Powers?” I shrieked.

  Laura held her finger to her lips. “Yes, what other powers do you have?”

  I shrugged. “I doubt I have any. How would I know anyway, because I just got here?”

  Laura shook her head. “No, no, no. The only power that Persnickle helps you with is speaking to ghosts. Well, that’s not strictly accurate—he enhances your other powers. You must have other powers?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t think I’ve got any.”

  Laura patted my arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I leant closer to her. “But I do need to worry about it. Someone wants to murder me for my powers, and I don’t even know what they are.” Just then, thunder boomed overhead. I
jumped. “I thought the sky was perfectly clear.”

  Laura waved a finger at me. “Aha! Sea witches can make the weather do things—you know, rain, wind, that sort of thing. Have you ever noticed that when you get really upset, it rains or there’s a storm or even a strong wind?”

  I tapped my chin. “Yes!” I said. “Now that you mention it.”

  The detective appeared in the doorway. “Is that my coffee I spy there, getting cold?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I made to tip it into the sink, but he moved to me and took it from me. “No need to waste good coffee. I’m sure it will be fine.” As he took it from me, his finger lightly brushed across my hand. An electric jolt ran through my body.

  I had no time to ponder that, given the bombshell that Laura had just dropped. I could impact the weather? It seemed too far-fetched to be true, but only yesterday I would have thought that speaking with a ghost was too far-fetched to be true. I walked into the living room, deep in thought.

  “You don’t have any coffee, dear,” Oleander said. “Didn’t you make yourself one?”

  “No, and I didn’t make Laura one, either. Would you like some coffee, Laura?”

  She shook her head. “No, but thanks. I’ll have one later. Champagne?” She handed me a flute.

  I thanked her and put it on the table in front of me. I was quite overwhelmed, and having a lot of people in the room didn’t help. I needed some quiet time to sort through this.

  “Are you all right?” Harriet asked, leaning quite close to me.

  I edged away from her a little. “I suppose it’s all been a bit much.” I looked up to see Laura smiling and laughing with the detective. She filled his glass, and then drank the rest of her own, promptly refilling it. She looked up and caught my eye. “Don’t worry, I have plenty more at home. Now drink up, all of you. We can toast Goldie’s arrival in town.”

  I thought it improper to have a happy toast, considering a man had just died, and only metres from where we were all sitting. Still, I held my tongue. My therapist had told me that if in doubt, it was best if I said nothing.