1 A Motive for Murder (2 page)

"Yes, I know about the calls, but what was that about the doctor? Are you okay?"

"Aunt Beth's dead!"

"What!" Melissa practically screamed down the phone.

My words came out in a rush. "I just got here from Heathrow and found her like that. The doctor came pretty much straight away; he said she had a bad heart. The funeral directors are coming today and I don't know what to do!"

"Oh hell! Are you okay? Well the funeral directors will know what to do. Don't come back early; stay there and get your stories." Melissa was the practical one.

"What if someone makes me leave?" My voice was tinged with a touch of hysteria.

"Who can make you leave? Look, it's all been arranged for you to stay there for five weeks, so stay there for five weeks and get your stories. Sure it will be harder, but nothing you can't cope with."

Melissa always made me feel better. "That's true. It all feels a bit creepy, staying here after what's happened."

"Creepy is good. You're a paranormal writer, remember. Don't forget, whatever you do, don't go to sleep until tonight England time; that's the quickest way to get over jet lag. Don't go to sleep our time. Oh shit, I might have to go in a sec. Looks like Skinny Troll is back early."

I laughed, despite the situation. "Melissa, you'll be in trouble calling from work. Skinny goes through the phone statements, you know."

Melissa spoke in a loud whisper. "Yes, silly, that's why I'm not calling from my desk; I'm calling from Keith's office. Gotta go." The line went dead.

As keen as I was to explore the house, I didn't want to stay in the house with Aunt Beth so I walked into the back yard via the kitchen. Besides, I needed a bit of fresh air. I wondered why the washer and dryer were in the kitchen. In Australia, they always go in a separate room which we call a laundry, which is also the room where we store most of our junk.

The kitchen was old and dated, and a bit musty, as if it had been locked up for ages. There was a bare wooden table, I guessed oak, and some wooden kitchen chairs which looked hard and uncomfortable. The back yard was quite big but overlooked by both the adjacent house and the house on the other side. It was bare. The lawn, if you could call a few pieces of grass a lawn, looked dead. There were a few sickly looking shrubs along the back fence, which was a picket fence in a poor state of repair and I guessed a few decades old. Aunt Beth sure was no gardener.

I had no idea if Aunt Beth had pets, but there was no sign of a dog or a cat. The back yard wasn't secure for a dog.

The yard was long and I walked down past the rickety, old, wooden shed. There, in front of me, was a nicely tended herb bed. There was not a weed in sight. There was lemon grass as well as citronella, both used to clear away evil, basil for drawing in money, chamomile which also brought in money but also was a protective plant.

Aunt Beth's herb garden also had a thriving calamus plant. Calamus root was a main ingredient in "Bend Over" oils or powders, used in bending someone to one's will.

The verbena was abundant, and was planted next to yarrow and more rue. These were three of the herbs from the old European blend of nine herbs used as protection against witches. I tried to remember my article last month on traditional European witchcraft which mentioned the other six herbs used in the tea. Wood betony, lesser celandine, nettle, mugwort, white clover - yes all present, but what was the ninth?

I slapped my head but that didn't help. I looked at the other herbs growing in the same patch. Then I saw it - the leaves looked like those of mullein, but it had yellow daisies resembling small daisies. Elecampane. Aunt Beth had the nine herbs, all growing together, traditionally used for keeping away evil. In fact most of Aunt Beth's herbs were used for protection.

Surprisingly, there were only two garlic plants in sight. From the smell in the living room, I would have expected a plantation.

I walked back around the side and came up behind the old blue car, just in time to see a hearse pull up. Apparently, English don't waste any time.

I introduced myself and averted my eyes as they took Aunt Beth out of the house. To my relief it was all over pretty quickly. They had informed me that Aunt Beth had a pay-now, go-later funeral plan and that everything had already been paid for. I hadn't thought of that. That was just as well, as there was no way I could have paid for anything.

Now that the funeral directors had taken Aunt Beth out of the house, I sat at the bottom of the stairs and put my head between my hands. I didn't know Aunt Beth well - actually, I didn't know her at all. Still, she had just died and I had discovered her body. It was all too much.

I didn't intend to sleep until night time, but despite Melissa's advice and the shock of Aunt Beth's demise, I was falling asleep on the stairs when I awoke to the uncomfortable sensation of something licking my bare ankle.

I awoke and looked into the eyes of the biggest, furriest, cream-colored cat I have ever seen. "Here, puss, puss," I said in a kindly voice, and reached to stroke the cat.

The next second I was nursing a long scratch on my arm. I looked from the droplets of blood making their way in a little stream down my arm back to the cat, who was unperturbed at the damage he or she had just inflicted on me, and was now purring around my legs.

"You must be Aunt Beth's cat," I said, but the cat just kept purring. I was just about to return to the kitchen to look for cat food, when I heard the doorbell. The cat suddenly looked more like a toilet brush than a cat, as all its hair was at once standing on end. The cat hissed and took off down the corridor.

I opened the door. The woman standing there looked frail and elderly, but reached out and took my hand in a firm grasp. "Misty! I'm Mrs. Miller; you may call me Cassandra. I'm so sorry to hear about your aunt. The funeral directors just then told me what happened to her. I've lived next door to Beth for many years. I'll make you a cup of tea."

Cassandra headed for the kitchen but the fat cat swiped at her leg as she went past.

"That damn cat," she said. "It's deranged." She aimed a rather vicious kick in the direction of the disappearing cat.

As I sat down at the wooden table, I asked, "Do you know the cat's name? And is it a boy or a girl?"

Cassandra snorted rudely while spooning tea leaves into teapot. "Your aunt doted on that cat; that’s why it has no manners. It’s a female. Vicious creature, its name is Diva."

I nodded and then hit myself on the forehead. "The car keys!"

Cassandra looked puzzled at my inappropriate segue. "Sorry, dear?"

"I was in here not long ago and I could swear the kitchen table was bare except for the books. Now the car keys are sitting in the middle. Did you put them there?"

Cassandra shook her head. "I realize you didn't know your aunt well but it would have still come as a terrible shock, finding her like that, and with you just arriving in the country."

I nodded, and noted that she hadn't mentioned the keys. Perhaps she was just vague.

Cassandra moved a pile of old books aside to make room for my cup of hot tea. It tasted amazing and very sweet. "I put in three spoons of sugar to get you over the shock." Cassandra sat down opposite me and slurped her tea noisily.

"I'm sorry, Cassandra; you must be in a state of shock, too. Were you good friends with my aunt?"

Cassandra shrugged then shook her head. "No, not really. I used to drive her to the doctor's and post letters for her. Food shopping too, that sort of thing. She had her car for years but didn't like driving. I did have a cup of tea with her many a time but Beth mostly kept to herself. She was excited about you coming; I could hear her bustling around all morning making the place ready for you."

"This morning? But the doctor said she died yesterday."

Cassandra appeared not to have heard and kept talking. "She kept to herself, but after the article in the paper, she had several visitors. She wasn't happy about that at all."

"What article?"

"I'll go get it for you. Just a minute." Cassandra pulled herself to her feet with some effort and headed out the kitchen door.

I had another sip of tea, and then decided to have a quick look around. A hallway leading to the back door opened off the kitchen, and that hallway had a tiny, pale blue bathroom opening off it. On the other side of the kitchen was a small room. It would have been the size of a small bedroom. I guessed that this was Aunt Beth's office of sorts, and she sure had not watched any of those shows on decluttering a house.

Framed landscape prints were hanging at angles on the wall. Papers were strewn all over the floor. Unlike the tidy yet crammed living room, and tidy but minimalist kitchen, this room was a downright mess. Barely an inch of carpet was to be seen.

"Goodness, how untidy," Cassandra's voice said behind me.

"Was it always like this?"

"I've never been in here before, dear. Beth always had the door shut when I was in the kitchen."

I saw a big, blue, glass evil eye ornament hanging over the top of the door, and on the back of the door was chalk-drawn pentacle. It had strange symbols around it.

Cassandra was watching me. "Do you know what that is?"

"The pentacle with symbols? No."

"Me either. Your aunt was into New Age things."

"What do you mean? What sort of things?"

"Candles and tarot cards and things like that." Cassandra pointed to the symbols on the door. "Now sit down and drink your tea. You've hardly touched it."

I dutifully did as I was told, and Cassandra slapped the newspaper clipping down on the table in front of me, causing my tea cup to jiggle.

The headline on the
Bucks Free
Press read as follows,
Local Resident Donates Rare Book to Cambridge University Library
. Next to a photo of an ancient looking book in a glass case was the story.

Long time High Wycombe resident Beth Banks has donated a rare and valuable book to the Cambridge University Library. The book, Exposition of the Hieroglyphical Figures, is believed to be a later copy of the 1624 original attributed to legendary alchemist Nicholas Flamel.

Flamel, it is claimed, discovered the
Elixir of Life which many believe gave both him and his wife Perenelle immortality. In 1410 Flamel designed his own tombstone, today preserved at the Musée de Cluny in Paris. Flamel had the tombstone carved with alchemical symbols. The tomb of Flamel, who was born in 1330, reportedly was found empty soon after his alleged death and many witnesses report seeing him at an opera in 1761.

"The book is in an amazing state of preservation," said Dr. Andreas Blake, spokesperson for the Cambridge University Library. "Much of the binding is intact, and only one page is missing."

A spokesperson at Christie's refused to speculate on the value of the book, and Dr. Blake said the value would be impossible to estimate but could run into
thousands of pounds. "It would need to go to auction to ascertain," he said.

Dr. Blake said there was no scientific foundation for alchemy, which had no more fact to it than vampires or werewolves. He said the Cambridge University Library was indebted to Mrs. Banks for her most generous gift.

"Your aunt was very upset at that article," Cassandra said. "She didn't know a newspaper would print the story. She had phone calls from other newspapers, television, radio, and antique dealers and book collectors wanting to know what else she had in the house. I got her to change her phone number and get an ex-directory one."

I figured an ex-directory number must be the English version of an unlisted number. "It's a wonder she wasn't robbed after that!" I exclaimed.

Cassandra shrugged. "She was afraid of that. She always kept the doors and windows locked. So dear, are you married?"

I shook my head.

"Boyfriend?"

I shook my head again and groaned inwardly.

"Surely a pretty girl like you would have a boyfriend. Never mind, you know what they say, one will come along when you're not looking for him. Just work on yourself dear, and the right one will come along."

Comments like that always annoyed me. "Actually, Cassandra, I'm not looking for one. I have my career to think about."

Cassandra looked at me disbelievingly and opened her mouth to speak but was forestalled by the sound of the phone. We looked at each other. Cassandra signaled for me to answer it, so we both hurried back into the living room.

"Hello, Aunt Beth's house, oh I mean, Beth Banks's house." The editor in me wondered whether I should said
Banks
or
Bankses
, then I silently chastised myself for such an irrelevant thought.

"Hello, this is Flowermead Medical Clinic," said an official sounding voice. "Mrs. Banks missed her appointment this morning. I'm calling to see if she's running late or would like to reschedule."

I was taken aback. I could only suppose that the doctor had been too busy to inform the receptionist of Aunt Beth's passing. "I'm sorry, but my aunt died yesterday. The doctor was here this morning; weren't you told?"

"I'm so sorry. Which doctor attended?"