Witches' Spells Page 7

  I hadn’t told the aunts what Lucas had said, for the reason that he didn’t want them to know he was in contact with me while away on his case. Still, I wanted to convey my concern that he thought I might be in danger. I didn’t know how to bring up the subject, so I finally blurted out, “I think I might be in danger.”

  All the aunts looked shocked. “Why would you say that, Valkyrie?” Aunt Maude said.

  I felt my face flush red. “Um, just a feeling.”

  “With Lucas away, and with the police thinking it was death by natural causes, it falls to us to find out the identity of the murderer,” Agnes said firmly. “If Valkyrie is in any danger, she will remain so until we find the culprit. Let us look at what we have so far, namely, Beckett’s neighbour, Geoff Currey, and that dreadful woman, Francine Finnegan. There is also Francine’s husband, Frank. As far as we know, these people would all have mundane motives, and we are fairly certain that Beckett’s murder was something to do with The Other. Are we all agreed?”

  We all nodded, and I sneezed as a draft blew the Fiery Wall of Protection incense right under my nose.

  Aunt Agnes pushed on. “If we think of suspects who might be associated with The Other, we have Beckett’s mysterious housekeeper who is yet to be identified, Beckett’s nephew, Weston, and our cleaner, Molly Myles. For this reason, I suggest we commence our investigations with these people.”

  “Francine Finnegan or her husband, Frank, could well be working for The Other,” Aunt Maude pointed out.

  “You’re right,” Agnes said, “but that is less likely. I suggest we start with the likely suspects first and then work our way down the list. We also need to consider both Beckett’s neighbours, Geoff Currey and the strange one.”

  “How can we investigate Weston?” I asked her. “I’ve already been to Beckett’s house and spoken to Weston. I don’t have an excuse for going to Weston’s house, and I don’t have any questions left to ask him. After all, I can’t come straight out and ask if he murdered his uncle. I agree that we have to investigate him, only I don’t have a clue where we could start.” I stopped speaking and looked around at the sea of blank faces.

  Aunt Agnes was the first to speak. “Do you know what he does for a living?”

  “I don’t have a clue. Are you suggesting I find out where he works and visit him there?”

  Aunt Agnes shrugged. “It was just a thought. If we knew where he worked or what hobbies he had, then maybe you could pretend to run into him. For example, if he plays golf, you could just happen to be playing golf at the same time. If he is in a running club, you could join.”

  I didn’t like the sound of either of those suggestions, especially the running one, and I said so. “I see where you’re going with it,” I added, “but if he is the murderer, he will find it far too suspicious.”

  “I have an idea,” Aunt Dorothy said. “Why don’t we whip up a spell to make the murderer reveal himself or herself, and we can place the spell and a name paper with the person’s place of residence, kind of like a foot track only not a foot track, if that makes sense.”

  Aunt Agnes scowled at her. “It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever,” she snapped.

  Aunt Maude stopped staring at her candles for a moment and looked up. “I think it’s a good idea.”

  Aunt Agnes appeared surprised. “You do?”

  Maude nodded. “Let’s cook up a spell that will make the murderer do something to reveal their identity. We will need to take something from each person—personal concerns.”

  “Do you mean a piece of hair or something?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “A piece of hair, or toenail clippings, or the like.”

  “You don’t want me to break into Weston’s house and steal his toenail clippings from his bathroom, I hope?” I was only half joking, but my spirits fell when I saw their faces.

  “What a good idea.” Aunt Agnes rubbed her hands together with glee.

  I held up both hands, palms outwards. “There is no way I am breaking into that man’s house and stealing his toenail clippings.”

  “That’s fine, dear,” Aunt Dorothy said. “He might not have any toenail clippings available. Just get some hair from his brush. Thankfully, he isn’t bald.”

  I looked at them as if they had gone mad. “That’s a crazy plan!” A quick look around the table revealed that the aunts did not share my view.

  “We’ll cast an invisibility spell,” Maude said.

  My jaw fell open. “You can do that?” That was mind-boggling.

  “Not literally,” Maude said. “An invisibility spell simply keeps the attention of the police away from you. You don’t want to be arrested for breaking and entering, do you?”

  “No…” I began, but she interrupted me.

  “There are lots of things you can use to keep the law away. We always have tansy and red brick dust under our welcome mat at the front door, but other good herbs to keep the law away are Devil’s Shoestrings, fennel, oregano, black mustard seed, asafoetida, and bergamot. I’ll make you a mojo bag to carry on your person, and then the police won’t come when you break into his house.”

  “Are you all completely serious about this?” I asked them. “Do you seriously expect me to break into Weston’s home and find some personal concerns?”

  Aunt Agnes tapped her chin. “There is an alternative.”

  “What is it?” I asked eagerly.

  “You could just go up to him and pull out a piece of his hair,” she said.

  I groaned and put my head in my hands.

  “We’ll try to think up better ideas to get personal concerns from the others,” Aunt Agnes said in an encouraging tone. “Why don’t you just start with Weston? Linda can help you. She can stand guard while you break into his house.” She stopped and shook her finger at me. “Now, I see that look on your face, Valkyrie, but I’m sure it’s perfectly safe. We’ll simply find out where he works and where he lives. I’m sure he lives alone as he didn’t have a partner with him at the funeral. When he’s safely at work, you can break into his house.”

  “What if he has a security alarm? A back to base alarm?” I asked her, shuddering at the thought of collecting ghastly toenails and then being arrested.

  The aunts seemed to think that was terribly funny. “No one locks their houses in this town,” Aunt Agnes said.

  “We do,” I pointed out.

  She shrugged. “We’re vampires,” she said, as if that made perfect sense of everything.

  Aunt Agnes was busy tapping away on her phone. “That’s not good,” she muttered. “That’s going to make things difficult for you, Valkyrie.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “Why?” I asked when she made no further comment.

  “He’s a sheep farmer. His farm is quite close to his uncle’s house.”

  Relief flooded me. “That means I can’t break into his house and look for his toenails,” I said, trying to hide my relief.

  “Nonsense!” Aunt Agnes said brightly. “Sheep farmers leave the house from time to time, I’m sure of it. What do you think, Maude?”

  Maude was still rearranging the candles, and looked up when she heard her name called. “Yes, whatever you say, Agnes.”

  “Well, maybe I should wait until it’s sheep shearing time or something like that,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

  “You call Linda and ask if she’ll help you, and I’ll see if I can find out where Weston is today.”

  “How are you going to that?” I asked in disbelief.

  Aunt Agnes shrugged and continued tapping away at her phone. I texted Linda and told her that the aunts had a harebrained scheme and asked her if she would accompany me in visiting a suspect. I failed to mention that we would be doing something illegal.

  “There is a clearing sale today at a farm not far from Weston’s,” Aunt Agnes said. “No sheep farmer can resist a good clearing sale.”

  “What if he isn’t in the market for a tractor or fencing wire or whatever they sell at those
things?” I asked her.

  Aunt Agnes made a huffing sound. “Clearing sales are social events more than anything,” she informed me. “And the good news is that no one on a farm locks their house. You can march straight in and find toenail clippings or hair from a brush.”

  Aunt Maude finally stopped fiddling with the candles and crossed to a kitchen dresser. She retrieved some plastic bags and handed them to me. “These will do nicely.”

  “You really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” I said.

  “It’s entirely up to you,” Agnes said. “Perhaps you have a better idea how to procure some hair, or toenail clippings?”

  I had to admit that I didn’t.

  And so, armed with Weston’s address, I headed for Linda’s new house.

  “What?” Linda shrieked. I had collected her from her place, but had not told her the whole story until we were on the way. “This is a joke, right?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I wish!”

  “We’re really going to do something illegal?” Linda said. “And what if Weston isn’t at this clearing sale after all?”

  I sighed long and hard. “Look in the back seat. The aunts gave me one of the cakes they baked yesterday. Our cover story is that we brought him the cake.”

  Linda wrinkled her nose. “Why would we take him a cake?” She held her hands skyward in a gesture of disbelief.

  I shrugged. “The aunts said that if he was home, I should tell him that they sent the cake. It’s a vanilla sponge cake.”

  “This just gets worse and worse,” Linda said with a shake of her head.

  We continued on to Weston’s farm, fervently hoping he was at the clearing sale. Linda was guiding me with the GPS on my iPad.

  Alec Aldon was out in his front garden, pruning his roses. He waved to us as we went past.

  “Oh no! He saw us,” I lamented. “Does he spend all day pruning his roses? It’s a wonder he has any roses left.”

  “This is not good,” Linda said. “When he sees that we don’t go to Beckett’s house, he might guess we went to Weston’s house. He might tell Weston he saw us. He’s so close to Weston’s house.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked her.

  “The GPS on the phone,” she said, waving it at me. “Go straight past Beckett’s house and on down the road.”

  “You know, Weston could walk to Beckett’s house from his house,” I remarked.

  Linda clutched her throat. “That’s hardly encouraging. What if he murdered his uncle and then scurried back to his house? That could be why you didn’t see another car out the front.”

  “I already told you that cars can park behind the house,” I said. “Come on, let’s grab this cake and get this over with.”

  The house was unremarkable, and had seen better days. It was a rather horrible house, to be honest. The peeling paint was a pale shade of sickly green, and the house itself looked to be perched unsteadily on its piers. As we walked up the rickety wooden stairs, they all creaked. The wraparound porch was entirely covered in with flyscreens. It was as hot as hell in there. I banged on the door and waited. When there was no answer, I called out, “Weston! Are you home?”

  “We should have gone to the back door,” Linda said after an interval. “Everyone goes to the back door in the country.”

  I followed her along the wraparound porch to the back door. Several dirty pairs of RM William boots sat haphazardly outside, as did several dog bowls with flies buzzing around some of the uneaten contents.

  “It seems he is at the clearing sale,” I said. “He must’ve taken his dogs with him.”

  My remark was punctuated by barking.

  “He’s got a lot of dogs out there,” Linda said, pointing to all manner of kelpies and blue and red heelers on long chains attached to kennels in his backyard.

  “He must have other dogs as well,” I told her. “My aunts told me that farmers have working dogs that they keep chained up outside, and then they sometimes have one or two pet dogs that they treat as, well, pets and keep in the house with them.”

  Linda shuddered violently. I knew what she was thinking. She was a Shifter wolf, and she was afraid of the chains.

  I reached for the back doorknob, but she shook her head. “What if he’s outside, working on the property?”

  “Then in that case, we’ll have to be fast,” I said. “You keep the cake with you in case we need it to use as an excuse, and I’ll grab the personal concerns.”

  It sounded like a good deal to me, but Linda complained. “Why didn’t your aunts put this cake on a proper plate instead of on a paper plate? It’s wobbling.”

  I shrugged and tentatively opened the door. It opened directly onto a huge kitchen with an old wooden table in the middle. The kitchen looked like it belonged in a museum for the 1950s. It was colourful, but not in a good way. The kitchen sink was pink, a colour matched by the laminate countertops either side. The walls were an unpleasant shade of pale blue-green. Mercifully, the tiles behind the kitchen sink were cream, providing some relief. The cupboards and drawers were a deep sea green, while the curtains were of thick white lace, yellowing on the edges. The floor itself was a nondescript colour of fading linoleum.

  “Why don’t you stay here on guard?” I said to Linda. “Call me if you see anyone. I’ll sprint for the bathroom and grab the first thing I see.” Without waiting for a response, I headed into the house. The kitchen led to a small hall in which was a giant refrigerator, and then straight into a living room. The television wasn’t on, and I could see some open doors. I hoped Weston wasn’t fast asleep. I tried to control my breathing and continued on down the hall until I came to a bathroom. It was in a far better state, much to my surprise. In fact, it was decorated in a lovely Federation style. Sadly, it was not clean. A shaver sat on the right side of the vanity as did a filthy cake of soap.

  A sudden thought occurred to me. What if Weston never clipped his toenails? For all I knew, they could be excessively long and even curling over. I shuddered at the thought. I pulled the plastic bag out of my pocket and looked in the little rubbish bin beside the vanity. I couldn’t see any toenail clippings in there, and I most certainly wasn’t going to put my hand inside it. I opened the two cupboard doors, but they were full of household cleaning chemicals.

  I pulled open the top drawer, and to my relief saw a wide-toothed comb. I grabbed the comb with my left hand, and with my right hand pulled out all the bits of hair stuck in it. I shoved them in the plastic bag and put the bag in my pocket. Just as I turned to open the door, Linda burst in. There was a dreadful sound behind her, a noise I had assumed was approaching thunder.

  “It’s a blue heeler,” she said in horror. “He was asleep in the corner of the kitchen. As soon as I saw him, he woke up and went for me.”

  The dog was making fearsome sounds on the outside of the door, scratching and growling and throwing himself at the door. I shook with fear. Blue heelers, properly known as Australian Cattle Dogs, were renowned for being very protective of their owners and their owners’ property. That dog would tear us to shreds as soon as look at us.

  “The cake,” I exclaimed. Linda was clutching the cake to her. She had all but crushed it, but I’m sure the dog wouldn’t mind. “Open the door a little and throw some of the cake out. Mind your fingers.”

  “Are you sure?” Linda asked me. She appeared to be on the verge of tears.

  I nodded. “Get ready.” I braced the door with my foot and my shoulder, and then opened it about an inch. All I could see were flashes of long teeth and flying drops of spittle as the dog tried to get his head through the opening. “Quick, Linda, now!”

  She squeezed a bit of cake through the opening, and then there was silence.

  “I think this is going to work,” I said after I had safely shut the door and latched it.

  “How can we risk it?” she said.

  I pointed to the walls. “There are no windows in here. Either we stay here until Weston comes back home, and
if he’s the murderer, then it won’t go well for us, and he isn’t the murderer, then we have to explain why we broke into his house. Our only way out is past that dog.”

  Linda bit her lip. “I have an idea. Let’s put pieces of cake on the ground, leaving a trail to the other side of the bathroom, and when the dog runs in here, we’ll jump out and shut the door behind us.”

  I hesitated. It sounded like a really silly idea to me, but I couldn’t think of anything better. “Okay,” I said after an interval. Let’s do that now.” We put chunks of cake along the bathroom floor. “Hopefully, he’ll charge in so fast that he won’t have time to turn, and we can slip out,” I said, having visions of the dog’s long teeth tearing at my legs.

  Linda and I looked at each other. “Let’s both get behind the door, and you slip out first. Before you do, drop a piece of cake on the dog to give him a taste for it,” I said.

  My breath was coming short and fast. I was doing my best to hold myself together. I thought I might faint, given that my heart was beating out of my chest. I put my shoulder and the ball of my foot against the door, and then said, “Ready.”

  As soon as I opened the door a little, Linda dropped a piece of cake out the opening. There was a terrible sound as the dog devoured the cake. “Now,” I said. I pulled the door open. I saw a flash of fangs as the dog burst into the room, growling ferociously. Linda jumped out, and I jumped out behind her in one fluid motion. I pulled the door shut, just as long yellow teeth snapped at the door.

  “I can’t believe that worked,” I said to Linda. She was trembling.

  “Quick, lock the door,” she said.

  I shook my head. “It only locks from the inside. Let’s make a run for it. With any luck, we’ll be able to reach the back door before the dog gets out.” I tapped myself on the head. “Linda, I have vampire speed, so I can outrun the dog.”

  Linda burst into hysterical giggles. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She trembled again as the door banged and shook heavily. The dog was on the other side, throwing himself against the door. If I wasn’t holding onto the door handle for dear life, the impact would bounce the door open.