Bedsocks and Broomsticks, page 7
part #1 of Omensford Series
“I’ll just get this mess cleaned up then I’ll be right with you,” Fi said with clenched teeth before she lunged for the wyrm. Cressida looked pleased with herself and grinned down at the shards of pottery in a dragon-ish sort of way. She darted to the side, but Fi managed to grab the wyrm behind its neck and pin it to the countertop.
“That was my favourite mug!” Fi hissed.
Really? It was vile. Why don’t you have any cups and saucers?
Fi felt her power rising alongside her frustration. She allowed a small amount to trickle through her hand onto the wyrm’s thick hide. The animal wriggled like it was being tickled. Fi let out a huff of breath, lifted the animal off the counter and gripped it tightly. She looked around for somewhere to lock it up, but the only room with a lock was the bathroom and Fi didn’t want the wyrm destroying her chic white suite.
“Trouble with your familiar?” Madam Mim asked with an enigmatic smile flickering around her lips.
“Not my familiar.” Fi thought she saw the wyrm stick out its forked tongue. “The sooner the magical animal sanctuary can get here and take her away, the better.”
Cressida narrowed her green eyes and sank her teeth into Fi’s arm. Fi screamed and dropped the wyrm. The reptile ran upstairs. Fi heard the patter of scaly feet as Cressida ran across the wooden hallway. Fi considered going after the wyrm but decided against it. Instead, she rubbed at her arm. The creature hadn’t broken the skin at least. Maybe she’d overreacted by screaming. She dug around in a cupboard to hide her red face, found a brush and dustpan and began sweeping.
“Can I offer you a cup of tea or something?” Fi remembered her manners after she’d consigned the shards of pottery to the bin.
“Yes please, tea if you have it.” Madam Mim accepted the offer graciously and Fi put the kettle on. She was desperately curious to know why they were here, but the noisy sound of boiling water prohibited conversation. So, she busied herself with finding mugs that hadn’t been broken and offering milk and sugar. Once the kettle had boiled, she handed the mugs out, realising that she’d accidentally made the detective’s in one shaped like a pig. He took it without comment and thanked her.
“Shall we sit, Ms Blair?”
“Oh, right, yes, please sit down,” Fi indicated the wooden chairs around a tiny circular table that was her attempt to create a kitchen diner in a space far too small. The detective’s chair scraped the wall as he settled into his seat.
“What can I do for you, Detective Inspector?”
“You were at the Halloween Fete?”
“Yes, of course. The entire village was there. Well three villages, actually. It’s the Tri-Village Fete so there’s three…” Fi forced herself to take a sip of her sweetened coffee to stop her babbling. Madam Mim smiled at her kindly.
“And you were manning the refreshments stand?”
“Yes, for part of the day and I helped with set up.”
“And who provided the refreshments?” Fi stared at him blankly. “I mean, who made them?”
“Oh, well, I made the scones and Steve made a cake. I think Goody Winships brought a sponge cake by and Effie did the sandwiches, she runs the café.”
“I see.” D.I. Ledd made a note in a pocketbook with a pen. “And did you serve Goody Winships yesterday?”
Fi thought. “No, I don’t think so. She was in the tent to drop off her cake and then I didn’t see her in the marquee the rest of the day. Maybe she came in when I had a break. Steve was on the stall most of the day, except when he went out to watch the animal show, and when he went up on stage.”
“Yes, he won the…” D.I. Ledd consulted his notebook, “…baking competition?”
Fi nodded automatically then shook her head. “No, he came runner up. Goody Winships was the winner.”
“She won a few awards yesterday, then?”
“Yes, I think it upset a few people.”
“I see,” he made another note.
Fi frowned, “What’s this about?”
“Am I right in thinking that you told my colleague that Goody Winships was killed?”
“Yes, yes, I did. Are you looking into it?”
“And how did you come by that information?” He ignored her question.
“The wyrm told me,” Fi was aware of how stupid it sounded, “And I thought I saw the broomstick...never mind.”
“Why would you mention the broomstick?” the detective’s eyes narrowed.
“Uh, well I noticed it was shaking when she was flying round, and I spoke to her friend, and she said Goody hadn’t mentioned anything about doing that trick, so I thought it might have been cursed. And I, uh, found a piece and thought it might be important, so I asked Glen to have a look.”
“You took possible evidence from a crime scene?!”
“Er, I didn’t know it was a crime scene when I took it,” Fi twisted her hands in her lap and stared at her feet. Her fluffy socks were suddenly extremely interesting.
“I see…” Detective Ledd let a long pause pass as he studied the witch. Fi tried to stop fidgeting under his scrutiny. Eventually, he took a breath and continued.
“Back to the wyrm,” Detective Ledd flipped the pages of his notebook as Fi wondered why he didn’t use a smartphone to write everything down, “let’s see, yes, the wyrm that belonged to Goody Winships, yes?”
Fi nodded.
“So, Goody Winship’s pet told you that its master had been killed?”
“Familiar,” Madam Mim interjected. Detective Ledd looked at Madam Mim as if he’d forgotten she was there.
“Pardon?”
“Not a pet, a familiar. They are a witch’s companion. Familiars have a unique bond with their witch and can often help with their magic.”
The detective ignored Mim’s clarification. “And how did this wyrm tell you?”
“She spoke to me. In my head.”
He blinked three times before asking, “And is this normal?”
“I don’t know! I’ve never had a familiar.”
Madam Mim interrupted again, “Familiars can communicate psychically with their witches.”
“And how is it that Goody Winship’s familiar can speak with you?”
“Don’t ask me!”
“We don’t fully understand the ways of familiars, but it seems that Ms Blair has a link with Goody’s familiar,” Madam Mim’s voice was calm.
“Hmmm.” Detective Ledd wrote in his book again.
“What’s this all about?” Fi bristled, her electricity rising under her skin. It was clear that the detective didn’t believe her.
The detective looked Fi straight in the eye. “We have reason to believe that Goody Winships died from unnatural causes. We believe someone killed her.”
Chapter 18
Fi’s mouth gaped open. Her magic dissipated. “So, I was right,” she breathed.
The detective arched one eyebrow at her, and she started twisting her hands in her lap again.
“So, Ms Blair, why don’t we go back to what you remember about the fete rather than wild theories about cursed broomsticks and psychic familiars?”
“Me? Why would I know anything?”
The detective gave her a long, unblinking stare. And the pieces finally connected in Fi’s mind. The police thought she had killed the old witch.
“You think I have something to do with this?” Fi mentally kicked herself. She listened to enough true crime podcasts, and she watched enough cop dramas to know she was sounding either like an idiot or like a suspect. She had to keep her mouth shut.
“Do you?”
“No!”
“Ms Winships’ stomach contents included some sort of baked goods…”
“That’s hardly surprising, is it? I mean, she was a judge for all the baking competitions, wasn’t she?”
“Well, as Ms Winships apparently took part in most of the contests, it seems she didn’t actually do any of the tasting…the judges felt that wouldn’t be fair. But she did eat something at the fete. Something that might have been a scone with a very particular brand of sugar.”
“I didn’t see her eat anything at the refreshments tent, she just dropped off a cake.” Fi’s brain waved a flag through the fog of surprise clouding her mind. “What sort of sugar?”
“The lab confirmed it was Pixie Power Sugar...”
Fi stopped her eyes from going guiltily to her overstocked cupboard of baking supplies, which included several bags of the magical sugar.
“…it’s a specialist ingredient, not widely available and not widely used. But you use it in your baking, don’t you?”
“Who told you that? I mean,” Fi took a breath, “Yes, I use it. It helps with the texture and is always the right amount of sweetness in a recipe…Do I need a lawyer?” Fi’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the policeman with sudden suspicion.
“Do you?”
A small part of Fi’s brain had kept working in the background because another thought broke through. “You’re not accusing me, are you? Or else you’d have arrested me, and we’d be having this conversation at the station.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Ms Blair. I’m trying to understand more about Goody Winships and her last day, establish a timeline of what she did, who she met and what she ate...”
Madam Mim gave a delicate cough and looked pointedly at the detective. He sighed, “And, because Ms Winships was a, ah, witch, we have the involvement of the Magical Liaison Office here to help with any possible, ah, supernatural aspects of the investigation.”
“I didn’t know you were with the Magical Liaison Office,” Fi looked at the elegant lady.
The sorceress shrugged, “I’m more freelance, but I do work with them and offered to help as Halloween is one of their busier times of year and I was in the area. More specifically, we were wondering if the familiar knew anything…”
Fi took a gulp of coffee, “You want me to talk to the wyrm?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“I’ll see if I can convince her to come down, but she hasn’t been very helpful since I brought her home…”
Fi headed upstairs slowly, trying to think. She was sure that Goody hadn’t had anything to eat when she was in the refreshments tent, but had she really been paying attention to who she’d served all day? She shook her head and turned her attention to finding the golden wyrm. It didn’t take long to find her, as the small animal wasn’t hiding. She was curled up in the middle of Fi’s bed. The wyrm opened one emerald eye lazily.
Yes?
“It’s the police. They want to ask you some questions.”
Me?
“That’s what I said.”
Why?
“They think someone killed Goody Winships.”
The wyrm regarded the witch for several long seconds before she stretched. It’s about time someone listened to me. She stalked past Fi before pausing at the top of the stairs. Well, are you coming?
Fi clenched her teeth as she followed the wyrm, telling herself to breathe. It wasn’t worth losing her cool over the small creature. She’d be gone to the animal sanctuary soon…maybe Fi could even splash out on a taxi if that would speed things up. The thought gave Fi a small amount of pleasure and she had a small smile on her face as she re-joined D.I. Ledd and Madam Mim in the cosy kitchen.
Cressida planted herself in Fi’s vacant chair and sat regally on the padded cushion. Fi unceremoniously picked up the wyrm and took her place.
“You can sit on my lap or on the floor.”
The wyrm met Fi’s gaze before turning and settling on her lap, ignoring the witch and focusing on the two others in the room. Fi winced as the small animal dug its claws into her leg.
What do they want to know?
Fi repeated the question.
“You said the wyrm told you that Ms Winships was killed?” Fi nodded but kept silent. “How did it know?”
“It is a she; her name’s Cressida.”
Thank you. The wyrm sounded surprised that Fi had made the distinction. Fi wasn’t even sure why she had. The witch shifted uncomfortably as Cressida spoke. I knew something was wrong before she left the stage. She smelled wrong and her heart was irregular.
“What does that mean?” The detective pierced Fi with a look that said he didn’t believe the witch was telling the truth.
Her heart. She took her medicine that morning, but her heartbeat was irregular later in the day. She didn’t seem her usual self and she smelled wrong. Doesn’t that idiot understand? She smelled wrong.
Fi edited the response before asking the wyrm a question of her own, “What does that even mean, ‘she smelled wrong’?”
I couldn’t possibly explain it to a creature that doesn’t have the olfactory prowess that I possess. I knew something was amiss. And I knew you humans would be too stupid to realise it. That’s when I felt a link with someone - with you - and I knew I had to try to tell someone. She was killed.
Silence fell. It was the longest speech Cressida had made, and Fi could sense the pain and the loneliness contained in it. The wyrm had lost her friend. Fi’s hand stroked the golden scales gently.
“Well thank you, ah, Cressida. One more question; can you think of anyone who might have wished to do Goody Winships any harm?”
The wyrm met the detective’s gaze and stared. Fi stared too. She mentally listed everyone she knew who had some sort of grudge against Goody. It was a long list. Fi pulled her concentration back to the room. The detective was staring at her politely. She realised he was waiting for her to repeat the wyrm’s words. It was the first time she’d been able to tune out the acid voice in her mind.
“Er, sorry, would you mind repeating that Cress? I didn’t quite catch it all.”
It’s Cressida, thank you very much. And I said: Goody Winships was underappreciated and misunderstood. She wanted the best for those around her. Not everyone appreciated her keen eye for detail or her methods, but she lived for Magewell. And some would say that the WWWI would be lost without her.
That was one way of avoiding answering the question because, of course, there was a long list of people who might have wished the old witch harm. But it’s not like she was newly unpopular. Fi would be surprised if no one had thought of killing Goody before now given her reputation for meanness and small-mindedness. Even Fi’s mum would probably have wished her dead.
Fi struggled to keep her face carefully neutral as the realisation crept across her mind while she translated the wyrm’s words. She acknowledged the detective’s words of goodbye and a request for her to stay local in case they had more questions for her or her familiar in a sort of daydream. The same five words kept burning through her mind: Her mum hated Goody Winships.
Chapter 19
Fi watched Detective Inspector Ledd and Madam Mim walk down her garden path through the slatted wooden blinds installed in her window. She stepped back out of view as they reached the pavement and turned, discussing something. Net curtains, Fi mused, were much better for spying from your own home. Too late to come to that design decision now though, after she’d already spent a small fortune on custom shutters.
She drummed her fingers nervously on her thigh as she waited for the two figures to leave. She wanted to talk to her mum. In person. It didn’t seem right to use the phone when Fi wanted to look her mother straight in those familiar blue sparkling eyes and ask Nell if she’d killed Goody Winships. It seemed a crazy thought. Fi couldn’t imagine her mum killing anyone.
Not even when she’d been at her angriest after Fi and Agatha had stolen her car so they could go to a gig in Oxford. The sisters had been grounded for a month and forced to clean the house from top to bottom, including the dusty attic and the ancient cellar. Even then, Fi hadn’t thought Nell would kill anyone.
And yet…
And yet the thought was insidious. It had wormed its way into Fi’s sub-conscious and was eating away at her. Nell disliked Goody. That was common knowledge. Everyone stepped back instinctively when the two powerful witches met. Their dislike…hatred even…was palpable. But taking the next step and ending a life. Fi shook her head, hating that she was unsure if her mum could commit murder. Surely that should be a simple answer. Is your mum capable of murder? No. As a daughter, how could she even doubt her mum, pillar of the community, Chairwoman of the Omensford branch of the WWWI?
And yet…
She needed to see her mum.
Fi peered out of the window again. She had a notion that alerting the detective to her train of thought by rushing off to see her mother would be a bad idea. Her brow furrowed as she took in the direction that the detective was heading. Uphill. That wasn’t unusual. The village centre was up the hill. As was the village hall. And her mum’s house… But the officer stopped outside her sister’s house. It could be a coincidence, Fi told herself.
The detective opened the gate.
Fi let out an expletive. Did that mean her sister was a suspect or that they were trying to get intel on their mum?
Fi decided to wait. The overwhelming urge to know what was going on compelled her to stay at her post in the small front room, staring out of her window.
What are you doing?
Fi jumped. She had forgotten she wasn’t alone. “None of your business,” she snapped.
The wyrm jumped up onto the squishy armchair placed by the window and moved her head so she could see out of the wooden slats.
There’s no one there.
“No. They’re talking to Agatha.”
The police?
Fi nodded.
Who’s Agatha? Do you think she killed my witch?
“No! She’s my sister. I just wish I knew what they were saying to her.”
Cressida soon lost interest and sank down onto the soft cushion. She made herself comfortable and sank into a light sleep.
