Cherringham--The Curse of Mabb's Farm Page 7
He squinted with one eye. “Mind if I have a wee bit more. Can smell and taste the peat. Great stuff.”
“Be my guest. Just remember you’re driving through that mess out there.”
“Never forget that. You are right — there is something awfully wrong about all this. But there’s this other thing, the brother, Ray.”
“His disappearance? Just seems like he left, leaving Charlie in charge—”
“Bingo. That’s it. I can see a dozen reasons for his leaving. I mean, I vanished from my world and washed up here. But Ray, the good, capable farmer, leaving the place to his incompetent brother? That, I don’t get.”
Then Sarah had a thought. She knew they were a team, and she also knew there were things in her world that Jack didn’t understand, things that could be useful.
“Let me do some digging around about Ray Fox. Maybe check bank records, land titles, all that stuff—”
Jack grinned. “You mean hack around?”
She smiled back. Jack wasn’t above bending the rules to do what had to be done.
“Let me worry about the niceties. See what I can find. Might be the ‘missing Ray’ is nothing—”
Jack killed his second pour.
“—Or something. Great idea. And one more thing?”
“Hmm?”
“Whoever did that outside isn’t playing around, Sarah. And I am beginning to formulate a plan.”
“Plan?”
“More of a trap. Can we meet tomorrow morning, at the mystical Tamara’s shop? I’ll set it up. Say ten-thirty?” Then: “I mean, of course, half past ten.”
“Details?”
“Patience, Watson. All will be revealed in the morning. We’ll need the help of the all-knowing, most mystical Tamara.”
“Really? That massage must have made some impression.”
“Don’t knock it,” he said with a smile. “Did wonders.”
“Meanwhile — I’ll do some hunting on the net. I can’t wait to hear what you’re cooking up.”
“Me either, actually.” He stood up. “Say goodnight to Daniel and Chloe for me.”
Then Jack left, and Sarah realised that the house now felt safer simply by his having come over.
And when the rain abated, and she finally went outside, she’d see that — before leaving — he had walked around to the back and had disposed of the wicker arm and the dead raven for her.
12. Ray’s Secret
Sarah looked at the screen on her MacBook Air, shook her head, and then muttered, “Too wrong.”
Grace — sitting at a desk across form her — looked up.
“Wrong? What’s ‘wrong’, Sarah?”
She looked up. She trusted Grace implicitly, thought of her as much a confidante as Jack. She could — and would — tell either of them anything.
But hacking into the local bank was not an activity she could share with her assistant.
“Hmm? Oh nothing — just a software glitch.”
She looked back at her screen. It had taken just a few minutes to slip through the first line of Greenwood Bank’s security. Far too easy — even for an amateur like her …
“How are you getting on?” she said to Grace. “You okay sorting the graphics for the hotel spa weekend?”
“I’m onto it. But did you know that they’re planning a Murder Mystery Evening for the weekend, dinner and everything?”
Sarah laughed at that. “Sounds like fun.”
“I thought I might go, though can’t see Jeremy sitting through that …”
Jeremy, Grace’s boyfriend, was a quiet young man who liked his football.
They seemed to get on well…
“Well, if he says no, count me in,” she said, hitting Enter.
And then, after a few navigational tricks, and using the various paths and backdoors that every site has, Sarah was in the main database for the bank.
Sarah leaned close.
Still felt wrong, she thought. Doing it for the right reasons or not.
From here, she couldn’t actually move any funds. God! Even this local bank would have sufficient monitoring systems in place to detect that.
But basic, raw information about accounts?
That was a different matter entirely. She could see what any clerk could access after just being hired and a week’s training.
She entered ‘Ray Fox’ into the search bar.
Two accounts popped up, one savings, the other current. Both open to view.
She picked the current account and saw that it had been inactive for the last eighteen months.
Substantial funds in there, which would seem to argue that he eventually planned to come back. And no one — like his brother for example — seemed to be trying to claim those funds.
So far, nothing suspicious. Or useful.
She thought of the Murder Mystery Weekend that Grace had mentioned. Might be fun, once the leaves had begun to fall. See how the pros really solve crime!
Then she thought she’d check the last transactions before Ray departed. A few bank card purchases. Bills paid. A routine transfer from savings to current account and—
Then — just three weeks before all activity ceased — a big transfer.
Three thousand pounds to Cauldwell & Co, the local estate agents.
She was tempted to share the discovery with Grace, but since this was all illegal, best she give her PA as much ‘plausible deniability’ as possible.
She looked up.
“Grace — I’m meeting Jack in an hour, but I’ve got to dash somewhere beforehand. Back by lunch, swear to God, to dig in with you.”
“No worries. Carry on with your sleuthing, boss.”
Another smile.
Worth her weight in gold. Discreet and smart.
“Thanks.” She headed to the door scooping up a yellow pad.
Could be time to start taking some notes.
Cecil Cauldwell sat manning the front desk himself. End of the summer was probably a quiet time for sales and rentals. He looked overdressed for the part, a cream-coloured suit, perfect during midsummer but less so now, with a pale purple tie and matching handkerchief.
The bell over the agency door rang as Sarah breezed in, pad in hand.
“Sarah? Um, how are you?”
Like most of Cherringham, Cecil knew that a visit from Sarah or her American friend these days could mean any number of things.
As Cecil had found out when Mogdon Manor burned down.
“Cecil, phew! Glad you’re here. Just took a shot—”
She imagined that if she had called ahead he might have invented some showing he had to do that would — unfortunately, he’d say — have him out of the office.
Surprise can be useful.
He did not, however, offer her a seat.
She had the thought that estate agents are like doctors and undertakers. They know things about people, their families, their money, their lives; things that no one else would know.
“Cecil, I’ve been helping that young couple out on Mabb’s Farm,”
“They came to you for help?”
“Not exactly. But other people have, concerned people. And I was just wondering about something …”
Her time with Jack should pay off now. Asking a question when you know the answer. The ‘upperhand’, as Jack would call it.
“Ray Fox and his sudden departure. Did he ever talk to you at all, perhaps about selling the farm, or—”
“I’m afraid that is client privilege, Sarah. I’m sure you understand.”
“Certainly.”
Still no offer of a chair was forthcoming.
Cecil was definitely hoping that Sarah would breeze out as quickly as she had breezed in.
“It’s just that, well, it appears that Ray had contacted you. With him gone and all, I was wondering if you might know something?”
“I don’t see what this might have to do with that … couple on the farm. I had nothing to do with that arrangement, I can tell you.�
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Aha…
“But other arrangements you did?”
Cecil shifted in his seat. Now Sarah was glad she was standing. Another little bit of edge.
“Look, it’s probably no secret that Ray Fox came to see me,”
“And hired you? In some fashion.”
Cecil hesitated. And then: “Er, in a way.”
“I thought representing a property was free, until the sale that is?”
“Too true, but in this case, he knew that the property could easily, maybe more profitably, be sold in pieces, as lots. That requires discreet evaluations, for machinery, livestock, subdividing the property, the various buildings — even the furniture. Some surveying and proposed plans drawn up. There is a fee for that.”
“Rather sizeable one?”
Cecil — probably sensing he had already let one cat too many out of the bag — retreated. “I’m afraid that is private. Now if you—”
Sarah made some notes on her pad. Nothing really, but she wanted to have Cecil see her do that and wonder … what is she writing … what is she thinking … and will this somehow affect me?
“So, you must have been surprised when Ray just upped and left?”
“Well, naturally because of our conversations I knew he wanted to leave. He was good at running the farm, had built up its value. But he didn’t like it. Or the village, for that matter. But he left, as they say, in media res. And then to leave everything to that Charlie? That I don’t understand at all.”
“Didn’t make sense to you?”
“No. I mean, the property had value. Ray just walked away from it? Left it to that stupid — sorry — his brother?”
“And that payday, would have been … could still be good for you.”
In the silence that followed Sarah’s question, the minute hand from a massive clock in the office produced the loudest click Sarah had ever heard.
Then: “Sarah, the matter is closed for me now. And if you have any more questions, I suggest you go and find Ray Fox. He’ll be the one who can answer them — not me.”
Sarah smiled.
“I appreciate your help, Cecil.”
A ‘you’re welcome’ didn’t emerge from the agent’s mouth.
She started for the door.
“And I’ll let you know if we do indeed find Ray Fox and get to ask him some of those same questions.”
And again the bell tinkled as she left the office, and she started walking briskly toward the centre of the village, to where Jack would be waiting outside Tamara’s shop.
13. Plans for a Gibbous Moon
Sarah saw Jack standing a few shops down from Moonstones, just in front of the new bookshop, looking at the titles on display. He glanced at the street as Sarah raced across to meet him.
“Am I late?”
“Think you are right on time. You know, I’ve never read any mysteries like they have in the window here. Interesting, hmm? My line of work and all.”
She laughed. “Based on my experience with you — not nearly as interesting as the real thing, I’m sure. Is Tamara expecting us?”
”Yes — but did you find out anything interesting with your wizarding web skills?”
Sarah told Jack about the big payment from Ray, what the money was for, and her visit to Cecil.
“Really? That doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t add up at all. All that money to prepare for a sale, then no sale?”
“Right. And Jack, you said you were formulating a plan, so how about sharing?”
“I did, didn’t I? And it’s almost there. Just need to see if we can get Tamara on board and then — soon as we’re done with her — I will run it by you, partner.”
“Good. I can hardly wait.”
“Okay then — let’s enter the mystical realm and get this party started …”
They walked up to the entrance to Moonstones, and opened the door.
Tamara was waiting, the lights low in the shop, candles lit everywhere. The air cloyingly thick with incense, the seer dressed in a swirling and ornate turquoise gown.
All Sarah could think — seeing her up close — was what a character.
“Jack,” Tamara said warmly.
Be careful there, Mr Brennan, Sarah thought, smiling to herself. The mystic likes what she sees.
“And you must be Ms Edwards.”
What a fortune-teller.
Tamara reached out and took a hand.
“Sarah.”
Jack looked around. “Tamara, is there a place where we can sit, in private? Sarah and I have a proposition for you.”
Tamara’s eyes narrowed, guarded. All this curse stuff could be a boon for her business. Her mystical warmth had suddenly turned to wariness. “Why, yes, in the back.”
Then, as an after-thought:
“Let me lock the door. So we won’t be disturbed.”
And with that done, Sarah and Jack followed Tamara to a small room at the back of the shop.
Sarah guessed, from the plush red felt covering and its octagonal shape, that this table was probably used for Tarot readings, maybe even séances.
Did Tamara run séances?
Because if they didn’t get some big breaks in this case, they might have to resort to that.
“Okay, tell me what I can do.”
Jack looked at Sarah with a glance that implied they were speaking with one voice.
Though Sarah had no idea what he was about to say.
“You see, Tamara, after our conversation the other day, I got to thinking. That poor couple on Mabb’s Farm. It’s so awful for them. My friend Sarah and I want to do something to help them with their Curse.”
Sarah couldn’t believe that Jack got that line off without a shred of irony.
“Yes. I understand. Still, the dark forces are not so easily dealt with.”
Tamara looked from Jack to Sarah as if she was merely pointing out the obvious. Sarah nodded.
“That’s precisely it. You said there were things that might be done?”
Unbelievable, Sarah thought.
She couldn’t wait to hear how this would all fit into some kind of plan.
“The Curse, Jack, is ancient. Centuries old. And as you have seen, still alive, still very powerful …”
Dramatically, Tamara looked away.
She’s got her act down to a tee, Sarah thought. Very slick.
Sarah turned to Jack. How far was she going to push this?
And then, matching drama for drama, he looked down. “The poor couple, we just wish we could help somehow …”
Which is when Tamara turned back and took what Sarah guessed those in the healing arts called a ‘cleansing breath’, and spoke in a low, serious, steady voice.
“There is — perhaps — one thing to be done. There is a rite that can be performed, assuming you have enough gifted ones to form a circle of power.”
“And how many would that be?” Sarah asked, the question sounding far too detailed as soon as she’d said it.
“Seven. The rite is as old as those stones. For where there are curses and evil, there are always the good forces of the spirit world. It is not without risk. It can be dangerous.”
“I’m sure,” Jack said.
Sarah had to wonder: does Tamara really believe that Jack buys all this? Or, in this case, is it all simply a means to an end for the woman?
Which, she assumed, they’d soon get to.
“There are preparations that need be made, and of course the gathering of the others … and—”
Another pause.
“Such a rite, with its attendant risks, those preparations, are not without costs.”
Jack smiled. “We, I mean I, will pay. I figure,” and now he looked at Sarah as if to make sure she wouldn’t break character, “We just want to try something, anything to help. Worth a shot, right?”
“Then,” Tamara said, “Yes. Something might be attempted. But I cannot promise anything.”
Could have guessed that, Sarah thought.
“I understand,” Jack replied, equally serious, “So tonight, we can—”
Tamara quickly shook her head.
“No. Not tonight. Jack, Sarah, you can’t simply do this on any night you choose. There really is only one night.”
They waited to hear what that perfect night might be.
“And that is the last night of the waxing Gibbous moon, the last night before it turns full. Some call it the Devil’s Moon, but it is the Devil and his demons who need fear the power of that moon, that night. Only then, on that night, would our powers be possibly — and I stress possibly — strong enough to attempt to end the Curse.”
“And that would be …?”
Again, Sarah noted that she was asking another practical question amid this amazing flow of mumbo-jumbo.
And though she was sure that Tamara had the date of every phase of the moon memorised — an occupational necessity, no doubt — the woman opened a leather book, flipped pages on which Sarah could see notes and assorted lunar crescents.
“Luckily not long from now. Just two nights in fact. And,” she looked up from her astral booking calendar, “that gives us enough time to prepare.”
“Great,” Jack said, sounding as if he’d found a restaurant that had his favourite dish on the menu. “Um, can we attend?”
That made Tamara pause.
“Normally, it is just the circle, the seven. But to observe, to stand away …”
She was probably calculating that she didn’t want to annoy the client footing the bill for the show.
“Yes. That will be all right. As long as you say and do absolutely nothing.”
“You got it.” Then he leaned close. “And Tamara, I would like this to remain among us and — what did you call the others?”
“The Gifted Ones.”
“Yes, Just us. We wouldn’t want Caitlin, Charlie spooked any more. Or the villagers, for that matter.
“My lips are sealed, Jack.”
“Good.”
“Meet us at the footpath that leads from the road exactly at sunset. It will be dark when we reach Mabb’s Circle, dark for the ceremony and the Gibbous moon will be rising.”
“If you say so.”
Sarah struggled not to laugh aloud at that.
She broke the moment by extending her hand to the mystic.