M.I.T.: Muggle Interface Team
in
Haunted House - Dead

Prologue: Break in Transmission

‘That is so obviously a fake, Archie,’ Valerie Mallory sneered dismissively as she watched her colleague frantically fiddling with the perspex bubble.

‘It’s a translucent globe, with a built-in smoke and light generator. When I get it working, it will look better than the real thing,’ Archie Dark announced agitatedly. ‘But I think that the batteries must be flat!’

‘What size batteries do you need?’ Simon Ryman asked, reaching past his EMF meter and movement sensors and into the bottom of his equipment bag.

‘The little ones: triple-A’s,’ said Archie. ‘Thanks, Simon; you’re a lifesaver.’

Archie hastily replaced the batteries and switched on the globe. It emitted a green glow, and smoke swirled within it. Covering the sphere with a green cloth, he sat down at the small table.

‘I’m ready, Jim,’ said Archie.

Jim Sidney looked despairingly at his team of â€�“fearless ghost-hunters” and sighed. ‘No you’re not, Archie. Ruby, dust his head the lights are reflecting off it,’ Jim Sidney ordered. The lanky young make-up girl did as she was told, dusting the top of Archie’s bald pate.

‘Quickly, Ruby, this is a live show remember?’ Jim raised his voice. ‘We’ve got four bloody minutes before we go live, and not one of you is actually ready. I wish I’d never agreed to do live shows! You’re useless prats, all of you! What use is our resident psychic’s â€�“fortune-telling method of the week” spot, Archie, if the thing runs on batteries and they’re flat!’ Jim Sidney rolled his eyes in disbelief. ‘Why is everything always last-minute with you? I suppose that at least, if you knock the bloody thing onto the floor, it won’t take as long to pick up as those flaming Tarot cards you used last week. And where the hell is Helena! She texted me to say that she was going for a walk, but she hasn’t left the hotel. I’ve checked with reception. She’s supposed to be doing the intro! You haven’t locked her in her room and nicked her mobile, have you, Valerie?’

‘She’s probably found some new bloke to get off with, darling,’ Valerie told her husband, venom dripping from her final word. Producer/director Jim Sidney looked scornfully at his wife before angrily turning to address his tiny crew. Then Bill Kenny almost dropped his camera.

‘For Christ’s sake, Bill, what’s the matter with you? I expect Archie to drop stuff, but you’re my rock. If you drop the hand-held, we’re buggered. Have either of you seen Helena?’

‘She’s not in her room, Jim, unless she’s ignoring me,’ sound recordist Hattie Coates announced. ‘Perhaps she’s still in the tower.’

‘Still? When did she go up there?’

‘Not long after we’d finished the run-through. I’d left my bag in the library and when I went to get it I saw her going upstairs.’

‘That’s more than three hours ago, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Sorry, Jim, I forgot,’ Hattie apologised nervously. She was getting distressed; Jim recognised the signs, Archie worked better when he was anxious and sweating, but Hattie didn’t! She needed the gentle touch.

‘That’s okay, Hattie. I’m sorry, you know how stressed I get before a show. You didn’t tell me, but I didn’t ask you,’ said Jim hastily mollifying her. ‘Sixty seconds!’ he announced. ‘Keep calm and carry on, Hattie. Ready, Jim? Positions, everyone! There’s no sign of Helena, if she’s flat on her back somewhere I’ll bloody kill her. You’ll have to do the intro, okay, Valerie?’

‘Of course. I can manage that easily, after all, I am a professional,’ said Valerie smugly.

‘Ruby, be a love and nip into the tower. See if you can find Helena,’ Jim ordered.

Ruby Lipscombe looked as though she was going to protest, but she nodded and scampered towards the door to the South Tower. She was out of shot with seconds to spare.

‘Credits are rolling,’ Jim announced. Silence fell.

Jim checked his monitors. He didn’t have time to be annoyed, but Helena Anncart would certainly pay for this later. His new young presenter/psychic had pleaded with him, begged to be allowed to do the introduction. He’d said yes, seriously annoying his wife in the process. But now the newest member of their little team had vanished. She needed a lesson in professionalism.

‘Ten seconds,’ Jim announced, and his team swung into action. He gave his wife the thumbs up. He knew that he could rely on Valerie to hold the show together, no matter what. She turned and smiled at the camera.

‘Hello, and welcome to this week’s Haunted House: Live. I’m Valerie Mallory, and tonight, my friends and I are in Cumbria, at Owlglass Hall,’ Valerie began the show. ‘This magnificent old building is now a hotel and wedding venue. It is also the third most haunted house in England. We’ll be meeting the owner, Mr Oswald Striggiday, soon. The hall has belonged to his family since the original keep was built in the twelfth century. You join us in Mr Striggiday’s magnificent private library. Through the door behind me lies the South Tower, where three of the seven ghosts of Owlglass Hall are reputed to appear. Are your temperature gauges picking up anything yet, Simon?’

Jim flicked a switch and the broadcast image moved to the fixed camera trained on their technical expert, Simon Ryman.

‘There’s a definite temperature drop on the third floor of the tower, Valerie,’ said Simon excitedly, as he always did.

Jim switched back to Bill’s steady-cam.

‘Thanks, Simon. That sounds very interesting, but before we investigate the haunted tower, we’ll turn to our resident psychic, Archie Dark, who will tell us what we’re likely to encounter today,’ said Valerie smoothly. ‘What’s under the cloth, Archie?’

‘Well, Valerie, I’m sure that our viewers will immediately recognise this week’s fortune-telling device.’ Archie Dark carefully pulled the green cloth from the globe. Thankfully, it was working.

As he watched Archie through the monitors, Jim thought that, considering it was little more than a cheap perspex bowl standing on a black plastic base, it looked surprisingly effective. The internal light and smoke generators were doing their job, creating an impressive swirling mist. Archie ostentatiously waved his hands over the globe, gazing intently into its glowing and foggy depths.

‘If you shake it, does it look like it’s snowing inside?’ Valerie asked Archie. The team’s psychic panicked for a moment before giving her a false grin.

Jim frowned at his wife. She was good. She could ad lib, she could fill, but she was the only truly professional broadcaster there. She liked to let the others know it by putting them off their stride.

‘Er, of course not, Valerie,’ said Archie. He immediately moved straight back onto the script.

‘I can see several ethereal presences within the fog.’ Archie began to excitedly move his head from side as he peered into the globe, and cameraman Bill Kenny was forced to zoom out in order to keep Archie’s head in shot. ‘Mad Tam the jester, the oldest ghost in Owlglass Hall will, I’m certain, be paying us a visit. There are others hovering about us too, watching and waiting. The Headless Monk is here, though I don’t suppose he’ll speak to us, unless he finally finds his head.’ Pause for a laugh from the viewers, Archie, thought Jim, but Archie simply ploughed on with the script. ‘And finally, I see the Green Lady, a fifteenth century resident of the tower and the last person to touch the cursed Green Pearl, Valerie.’

Valerie Mallory took over seamlessly; Bill turned his camera on her and zoomed in for a closeup.

‘The Green Pearl, the cursed pearl, has been owned by the Striggiday family since the twelfth century,’ Valerie explained. She smiled into the camera and continued, carefully putting just the right amount of awe into her voice.

‘Striggiday Family legends say that if the pearl ever leaves Owlglass Hall, then doom will fall on the family. The pearl is still kept in the topmost room of the South Tower. Four hundred years ago the Green Lady, Lady Caroline Striggiday, foolishly decided that the legend of the curse was just that: a legend. She removed the pearl from its hiding place, intending to wear it for her lover. She died instantly, killed by the cursed pearl!’ Valerie paused for dramatic effect. ‘This promises to be an exciting evening as, later in the show, Mr Striggiday will be showing us the cursed pearl. But now, what more can you divine for us, Archie?’

‘I foresee that tonight, Valerie, our viewers will be faced with ghosts, mysteries, and the story of the tragic death of a beautiful young woman.’

Before Valerie could respond, the door to the South Tower clattered open. Ruby Lipscombe burst into the room; she was white-faced and shaking.

‘Helena’s dead!’ she screamed, and then she fainted.

The Haunted Tower

Roberta â€�“Bobbie” Beadle poured herself another cup of jasmine tea. Lavender was sipping hers and smiling, Susan, however, had decided that she didn’t like the weak perfumed tea and was drinking coffee.

‘You haven’t asked me about Oliver,’ Bobbie said. The restaurant was busy and noisy and she leaned across the table to ensure that she could be heard.

‘Susan’s too polite, and I’m simply waiting for you to tell us,’ said Lavender. ‘It’s been two months since Ron and Hermione’s wedding, since he asked you out. Are you shagging him yet?’

‘Really, Lavender,’ said Susan severely.

‘He’s never tried it on with me,’ said Bobbie. ‘We’ve kissed, but that’s all. I don’t know whether it’s because he doesn’t really fancy me…’

‘No, it’s because he’s a gentleman,’ said Susan.

‘Susan’s probably right,’ confirmed Lavender. ‘Alicia reckons that Katie made the first move. She made the last, too, when she jumped on Leanne at New Year. If you want Oliver, you’re going to have to seduce him, Bobbie.’

‘But…’

Bobbie got no further. Her mobile phone began to ring. At the same moment, the mirrors Susan and Lavender carried rang too. The three young women looked at each other, and smiled knowingly.

‘I’ll get the bill, we can settle up later,’ offered Bobbie, waving urgently to a passing waiter. She knew that a quick credit card transaction would take a lot less time than trying to calculate Muggle cash with two witches.

‘Susan Bones,’ Susan held her mirror to the side of her head and spoke into it as though it were a mobile phone. ‘I’m with Lavender and Bobbie.’

‘Auror Bones, we have a suspicious Muggle death at Owlglass Hall, forty miles from the Rheged Sheriff’s Court. The information is now being scrolled to Carlisle. Auror Protheroe has been contacted; she has activated the Muggle Interface Team protocols. Auror Brown, Inspector Beadle, please confirm that you are aware.

‘Beadle here, we’re on our way,’ Bobbie announced as the waiter hurried over with the bill.

‘We’re leaving now, Martha,’ Lavender added.

‘Where on earth is Rheged? Is it in Wales?’ asked Bobbie.

‘No, it’s Cumbria, more or less,’ said Susan. ‘There was a Magical Sheriff of Rheged long before there was a Cumbria. We’ll be able to pick up a car in Carlisle. How soon do you think we can get to the scene, Bobbie?’

‘We’ll be flying forty miles from Carlisle? That should take us less than twenty minutes,’ said Bobbie as she paid.

Susan nodded and again spoke into her mirror. ‘Martha, please contact Cumbria Constabulary and tell them to expect us at Owlglass Hall in half an hour. No one is to leave the scene, and nothing is to be moved. Make that clear.’

‘Yes, Auror Bones.’

The three young women left the restaurant as quickly as they could. They found a secluded alley and Lavender Disapparated immediately.

‘Ready, Bobbie?’ Susan asked.

‘Not really,’ Bobbie replied. ‘But let’s go.’

Susan nodded, pulled a paper bag from her jacket pocket, and handed it to her companion. Bobbie prepared herself. Susan firmly grabbed her around the waist and Bobbie held her friend’s arm tightly. With a crack, Susan Disapparated.

The experience was as bad as it always was. The pressure made Bobbie feel like her insides where being squeezed out and, as usual, she was sick. Fortunately, the bag Susan provided had succeeded in catching Bobbie’s partially digested Chinese meal.

The duty Bailiff looked up in surprise when three young women in Muggle clothing, one of them retching, Apparated into the reception area of the Sheriff’s Court. Bobbie, gasping for breath, mumbled her thanks as Lavender conjured a glass and a bowl and filled the glass with water. Unable to cope with Side-Along Apparition, Bobbie simply had to cope with the nausea.

‘Auror Office, you’re expecting us,’ Susan said, while Bobbie rinsed, gargled and spat into the bowl. Once Bobbie was done, Lavender Vanished both the sick bag and bowl. The Bailiff directed the women to a changing room, where they quickly put on their Auror uniforms, black skirts, white blouses, grey cravats and long black coats. After picking up the information scroll from the Bailiff, they were given directions to the car and left.

‘So, what do we know, Susan?’ enquired Lavender as they flew over the moonlit summit of Skiddaw and headed rapidly towards the lights of Keswick. Bobbie still felt a little queasy, so she said nothing as she steered the car a little to the west. She simply chewed her second Toothflossing Stringmint and bemoaned the loss of what had been a delicious Chinese banquet.

‘You can read this report when I’m done, Lavender,’ said Susan.

They zoomed over Derwent Water and were heading towards the summits of Haystacks and Great Gable. Bobbie concentrated on keeping the car heading towards their destination. An invisible flying car capable of travelling at two hundred miles an hour was, in her opinion, much better than Side-Along Apparition.

‘You’re a much faster reader than me, Susan, so we’ll have arrived before I finish it,’ said Lavender. ‘Besides, Bobbie can’t read and fly the car at the same time. So if you tell me, you’ll be telling her to. That will save us time when we get there.’

‘Good idea,’ Susan agreed.

‘Plus, I’m lazy and simply can’t be bothered,’ added Lavender. Bobbie stifled a chuckle and swallowed the Stringmint; she was beginning to feel better. Susan simply sighed.

‘You might as well tell both of us, Susan, please,’ Bobbie said.

‘There’s a dead girl, a tv presenter called Helena Anncart, at Owlglass Hall. The hall is a medieval building and it’s owned by a man named Oswald Striggiday,’ Susan began. ‘Mr Striggiday invited a television crew in to film. The Muggles claim that the place is haunted, although â€�“Magical Creatures” have no ghosts registered as haunting that address. The family also own something they call â€�“the Green Pearl” which is supposed to be cursed. It apparently kills anyone who touches it, which is why we’ve been called in.’ Susan rapidly read through the rest of the report and gave her colleagues the details.

‘How would a real cursed pearl end up in Muggle hands? And why has no one been killed by it before now?’ asked Lavender curiously.

‘It’s probably just a Muggle story,’ said Susan. ‘Perhaps this is another false alarm.’

‘We have been getting a lot of false alarms,’ Bobbie agreed.

‘We don’t know enough about where we’re going, we never know enough about what we’re being sent to investigate,’ Lavender complained to her companions.

‘Because it’s our job to find out, Lavender,’ said Susan. ‘What sort of television programme is â€�“Haunted House: Live,” Bobbie?’

As they flew onwards, Bobbie explained the concept of a â€�“ghost hunting” television show to her companions. Lavender was still laughing as they began their descent. The dark forbidding screes of Wast Water were a fearsome moonlit mass flickering past on their left as they headed down the valley towards the main road. When she found a clear stretch of road Bobbie slowed, dropped the car onto the black tarmac, turned off the invisibility booster, and turned on the lights and sirens.

After only five minutes on the road, they turned sharp right through a stone arch and sped down a gravel driveway. Bobbie waited until the last moment to brake. The black Range Rover slid to a halt in a rattle of scattering stone chippings. There were already several other vehicles standing outside the huge old manor house.

The ivy-clad stone frontage of Owlglass Hall was floodlit; it was also illuminated by flickering blue flashes of light from the emergency services vehicles. There were four police cars, an ambulance, and an emergency doctor already on scene, Bobbie noted.

Between the emergency vehicles and the sweep of steps leading to the grand entrance doors stood a couple of uniformed constables, one young and lean, the other old and weather-beaten. The two men strolled towards the car.

‘At least the local police are expecting us,’ Bobbie observed. ‘It’s always easier when we’re expected.’

Bobbie unbuckled her seatbelt, opened her door and stepped out. Slamming the door she strode rapidly towards the two policemen. She had discovered that identifying herself, and implying that Susan and Lavender worked for the security service was usually enough. Her fellow police officers were surprisingly lax about identifying security personnel.

‘Detective Inspector Beadle, Metropolitan Police, Special Branch,’ she announced, showing them her warrant card. ‘I’m on secondment to the Auror Office, these are my colleagues; you don’t really need their names. You can call the blonde â€�“Miss Bones” and the brunette â€�“Miss Brown”. Who’s in charge?’

‘D.I. Jackson from Workington arrived five minutes ago, Inspector.’ The older man spoke warily, examining her warrant card carefully. ‘You were bloody quick getting here,’ he said sharply.

Bobbie had her answer ready. ‘We were at Sellafield, dealing with an incident for the UKAEAC,’ she told them. ‘This may be related.’

She watched their faces turn pale. One of Bobbie’s duties was to provide a believable reason for their presence; she’d been working on one en route. The relative proximity of Owlglass Hall to the Sellafield nuclear reprocessing plant was a good one. UKAEAC, the United Kingdom Atomic Energy Authority Constabulary, were the only fully armed national police force in the UK.

As she expected, the two men simply stepped aside and allowed her to ascend the wide stone stairs to the building. Susan and Lavender followed closely behind. The police rumour-mill would already be starting. If this wasn’t an Auror Office case, they could simply say â€�“false alarm”, and if it was, the word atomic would definitely be enough to clear the local police from the scene, especially when combined with an unexplained death and a few hints.

‘Not quite up to Hogwarts standards, but not bad,’ said Lavender appreciatively. The iron-studded oak double doors were fixed open. The two witches followed Bobbie under the Tudor arch and into a glass box. The box surrounded the ancient wooden doors, creating a modern entrance to an ancient building. They entered the echoing wood-panelled entrance hall via automatic glass sliding doors built inside the hall. The hotel reception desk stood at the bottom of a long red-carpeted flight of stairs leading up from the hall. A third policeman stood relaxing at the desk, chatting to the receptionist. He stood up straight when they entered.

‘Special Branch, they’re with me,’ Bobbie again flashed her warrant card. ‘Where’s the body?’

‘Up these stairs, take a left and all the way to the end of the corridor, Ma’am. You can’t miss it.’

The corridor was wide, and crossed pikes and spears lined its stone walls. At the far end of the corridor was another large arch, this one was Norman and most of it had been walled up centuries ago, creating a much smaller, but still substantial doorway. The dark quarter-panelled door at the far end was closed. Bobbie tried the handle, but the door was locked.

There was an old-fashioned and thumb-worn brass bell-push in the wall next to the door. Susan pressed it. Within moments the door was opened. Bobbie flashed her warrant card at the dumpy mousey-haired woman who had opened the door.

‘Detective Inspector Beadle, Special Branch,’ announced Bobbie as she strode past the woman, through a stone wall which was several feet thick, and into the room. The woman pushed the door closed the second they entered. It was a Yale lock, Bobbie noticed, and the door closed with a very solid click.

Bobbie looked around with interest. The well-lit room was a library. Ancient books lined the walls and imbued the room with the unmistakeable odour of ancient words. The room was also cluttered with television equipment. Monitors, cameras, microphones, and all manner of other things which Bobbie did not recognise stood on every available surface.

There were two sofas, an armchair, and several chairs in the room, too, and all were occupied. Nine people watched her as she entered; Bobbie rapidly assessed them all.

Eight were seated; these were obviously the television people. In the armchair nearest the door sat dark-haired and immaculately dressed former children’s television presenter Valerie Mallory, she’d been crying. Her make-up had run and she looked a lot older than she had when Bobbie used to watch her as a child. As she would, Bobbie thought wryly, that would be twenty years ago. Sitting on arm of her chair, a comforting arm on Valerie’s shoulder, was a balding man with a large nose and a face like a wrinkled prune.

‘Blimey,’ was all the prune-faced man said as Susan and Lavender swept into the room behind Bobbie, their coats flapping. He was the only one who spoke; everyone else simply stared at the three young women wearing long black coats who had arrived in their midst.

Bobbie recognised the pale and sweating man sitting at a desk, too. The man wore a brightly coloured waistcoat and was nervously fiddling with a plastic bubble full of lights and smoke. Psychic investigator and fortune teller, Archie Dark’s forehead gleamed and his chins trembled. Dark was the only other one of the television people who Bobbie recognised, so she turned her attention to the two who were standing. They were obviously police. The dumpy, woman who had opened the door had gone to stand next to a small, wiry man whose black hair was greying at the temples. The woman wore a rather shabby trouser suit, her companion wore a brown overcoat and his badly knotted tie was slightly askew. He would be the local police Inspector, Jackson.

The only way to do their job was to be professional, to look like they knew what they were doing. At this point, â€�“first contact” as they called it, Bobbie always took control. She would defer to Susan, or Lavender, if the magic started, but when dealing with Muggles, she always took the lead.

‘I’m Detective Inspector Bobbie Beadle, Special Branch. These are my colleagues, Susan Bones and Lavender Brown. I assume you’re Detective Inspector Jackson?’ Bobbie addressed the wiry man, who nodded.

‘Aareet,’ he said.

Bobbie assumed that his meaningless drawl was some form of greeting.

‘Yon’s DC Tyson,’ the man added, nodding towards the dumpy woman.

‘I assume that you’re expecting us?’ Bobbie continued.

‘Aye. The lads on the door reckon you’re working with the nuclear cops,’ Jackson said. ‘Is that right?’

‘Yes,’ it will only take us a few minutes to establish whether we want to take over jurisdiction. Where’s the body, Inspector?’

‘Through yon door and up to the top of the tower,’ Jackson jerked his thumb in the direction of one of the two other doors in the room. ‘I’m Joe, by the way, Bobbie, If you’re a DI and I’m a DI there’s no point in this Inspector nonsense. The doc’s up there with a couple of paramedics and my sergeant. They can’t figure out what killed her.’

Jackson then pointed to the two other doors from the library. ‘That door leads to the bedrooms in the south wing, where this lot are staying.’ Mr Striggiday’s office is down there, too,’ he said.

‘Cause of death, undetermined? Interesting,’ said Susan. ‘We’ll take a look. Are these the witnesses?’

‘If this is a murder, lass, and the doc hasn’t decided yet, then one of this lot is the killer,’ Jackson said. The eight looked at each other in alarm.

‘This is Mr Striggiday, the hotel owner.’ Jackson indicated a slender man with thinning dark brown hair and aquiline features who was sitting apart from the others. ‘He kept this wing o’ t’ hotel locked for security reasons. This is where he lives. Apart from the fire door, which is alarmed, that door is the only way in and out of here.’ He pointed at the door through which they’d just entered.

‘How many keys are there for that door, Mr Striggiday?’ Susan asked.

‘Just the one, I’ve already told the Inspector,’ Striggiday looked nervously at Jackson. ‘Like Inspector Jackson said, this is the private wing of the house. I live here. Mr Sidney and his team are my guests. They have a lot of expensive equipment in here; we wanted to keep it safe.’

‘D’you want to see the body first, or shall we question this lot?’ Jackson asked.

‘We’ll see the body,’ said Susan.

‘I’ll take you upstairs then,’ said Jackson. ‘Keep an eye on this lot, Tyson.’

The dumpy woman nodded.

Jackson opened the door and led the three women up the curving tower stairs. He stopped on the first landing, where various pieces of electronic equipment, sensors of some kind, were arranged against the wall opposite the door. Jackson looked up and down the curving stairs and then opened the only door on the landing and ushered them inside.

It was a bedroom. The room had green-painted walls and a green carpet. The furniture was all ancient and solid-looking beech. The ornate four-poster bed was bedecked in green curtains and bedclothes. The three young women looked curiously around.

‘The body is on the top floor,’ observed Susan sharply.

‘Aye, lass, that it is,’ admitted Jackson. ‘But I wanted a word in private. I reckon that I can crack this tonight. Striggiday is adamant that no one could have got into the tower. You came through the door, you’ve seen how solid it is. You should’ve seen their faces when I told ‘em that if he was right, then one of them must’ve done it. I haven’t questioned any of them, yet. I haven’t had time. But if it weren’t one o’ them, then one o’ them must’ve let the killer in.’

‘Is there any obvious motive?’ Bobbie asked.

‘Nah,’ Jackson shook his head. ‘They all â€�“loved the girl!” O’ course they did, she was a â€�“valuable member of the team”, so they reckon. It’s a load of bollocks! The bald, fat old psychic, Dark, hated her, and so did Valerie, that’s obvious. I was just going to start on Striggiday when you turned up. He doesn’t really know them, so he seems the least likely…’

Jackson stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at Lavender. She had walked away from her companions, drawn back the curtains on the four-poster bed and was sniffing the pillow and bedclothes.

‘Someone has been indulging in a bit of horizontal jogging in here, very recently,’ Lavender announced. She pointed at the bedclothes, they were certainly rumpled.

‘Are you sure, Lavender,’ Susan asked.

‘Yes,’ Lavender confirmed. ‘I can smell perfume, here.’ She pointed to the top of the bed. ‘And, er, bodily fluids, here.’ She pointed to the most rumpled section of the bedcovers. ‘They weren’t between the sheets they were on top, so it wasn’t â€�“sleeping together” it was simply a quick bang.’

‘But…’ Jackson began.

Bobbie leant over the bed and sniffed the pillow. ‘I can smell perfume, too,’ she confirmed. ‘But it could just belong to whoever sleeps in this room, Lavender.’

‘My nose is not simply cute, Joe.’ Lavender smiled as she addressed the Inspector. ‘It’s very sensitive, too. We really need to see the body. I didn’t smell this perfume downstairs. If it doesn’t belong to the victim, then we need to find out whose perfume it is; if it is hers, then we need to find out who the mystery man is. Who do you reckon, Bobbie? Old prune-face seems unlikely and the overweight old guy isn’t interested in women. So that leaves Striggiday, the fair-haired young guy, and the dark-haired man.’

‘The fair-haired guy is Simon Ryman, Lavender. He operates all of their technical equipment, like the stuff outside the door to this room,’ said Jackson. He’s got movement and heat sensors set up. We might be able to get something from them, unless he’s the killer. The dark haired guy is the cameraman, Bill Kenny.’

Lavender continued her search of the room. Opening the wardrobe she discovered that it was full of clothes. She rifled quickly through the jackets. ‘This is Striggiday’s bedroom,’ she announced. ‘If he was our shagger then he should be a lot higher up your list, Joe.’

‘Aye, reet.’ Jackson agreed.

‘I definitely think that it’s time for us to take a look at the body,’ said Susan.

‘We haven’t even got SOCO on scene yet,’ Jackson grumbled as they strode upstairs. ‘I assume that you know what you’re doing.’

‘We’ve seen quite a few corpses, Inspector,’ said Susan.

They climbed another flight, reaching another landing and another door. Jackson continued upwards.

‘Hold on a minute, Joe,’ Bobbie said. ‘Have you checked this room?’

‘Yes, it’s empty, but take a look, if you want.’

Bobbie opened the door and peered inside. It was another bedroom, this one, however smelled cold and unused. Susan stepped into the room and moved behind the door, out of sight from Inspector Jackson. She pulled out her wand.

‘Homenum revelio,’ she murmured. ‘All clear,’ she added loudly as they left the room and continued upstairs.

The stairs ended at an open door. Just inside the door a bald man with a broken nose and cauliflower ears stood talking to two green-uniformed paramedics.

‘She’s no further forwards, boss,’ the man said, nodding towards the white-suited doctor kneeling down in the centre of the room. He stepped aside and allowed Jackson and the three Aurors to enter.

The room was large and almost empty. An ancient and solid-looking table stood against the wall on one side of the room. On the wall opposite was an ancient iron-bound trunk.

The woman’s body lay in the centre of the room; a small pool of blood had oozed out from beneath it. The young woman wore a short red dress and was barefoot. Her blonde hair was a halo framing what must once have been a pretty face. The woman’s beauty had fled with her life; what remained was a disconcerting shell. The body lay like a marionette whose strings had been suddenly cut, a crumpled heap with eyes wide, and an expression of excruciating pain on her rictus-distorted skull-white features.

‘What’s up, Doc?’ Jackson asked.

‘What-ho, Joe,’ she replied. ‘This the lot from Scotland Yard then?’

‘Apparently so. This is DI Beadle. These two are Susan Bones and Lavender Brown. No ranks, nothing.’

Emergency doctor, a pinch faced woman with iron-grey crew cut hair glared at them. Lavender sniffed.

‘The body is fresh, very fresh,’ Lavender began before the doctor could speak. ‘Rigor is just beginning to set in. She’s been dead about four or five hours, which puts time of death at about two to four hours before the broadcast started.’

‘What?’ the doctor spluttered.

‘Show off,’ said Bobbie.

‘I haven’t finished,’ said Lavender. ‘She’s the one. That was her perfume downstairs. She had sex within the last three or four hours, too. Not long before she died, probably. Perhaps she went out with a bang; though judging from her expression, that’s unlikely.’

‘You can’t possibly know that without an internal examination,’ the doctor protested.

‘I can, and I do,’ said Lavender smugly. ‘You’ll discover that I’m right when you get her back to your mortuary. If we let you take her. Have you established a cause of death? Where’s the blood from? It doesn’t look like it’s come from a fatal wound, there isn’t enough of it. Are there any other marks on the body? The perfume she’s wearing is nice; do you know what it is?’

The doctor glared.

‘I’d like to know about the wound, too,’ said Jackson.

‘The blood is from a wound to her buttock. She was stabbed with a stiletto heel, that’s a new one on me. You never know what you’ll find in this job. But it didn’t do any major damage and it certainly didn’t kill her,’ said the doctor. ‘In fact, given the lack of blood, I’d say that the injury was probably post-mortem.’

The three Aurors exchanged puzzled looks.

‘We need a few minutes alone in the room, Inspector,’ said Susan firmly. He looked at the young women appraisingly.

‘We won’t contaminate your crime scene, Joe,’ Bobbie promised.

‘Ten minutes, no more,’ Jackson insisted.

‘Acceptable,’ Susan agreed.

Susan escorted Jackson and the protesting doctor from the room. Susan’s black stilettos tapped across the floorboards as she ushered them out. The moment Susan closed the door and magically sealed it, the three began their investigations.

‘If you see a green pearl anywhere,’ began Susan.

‘Don’t touch it!’ Lavender said. ‘We’re not stupid, Susan.’

Susan nodded and then spent several minutes fiddling with her Dark Detector. Lavender examined the body, while Bobbie carefully searched the room.

‘There’s something damping my Dark Detector,’ announced Susan eventually, with obvious annoyance. ‘A Concealment Charm of some kind, I think. There seem to be faint traces of Dark Magic in here, but the Dark Detector is almost useless. What have you found, Lavender?’

With a wave of her wand Lavender lowered the body back onto the floor and refastened the woman’s clothes.

‘This is definitely the woman who shagged somebody downstairs in the green room, Susan. I might be able to recognise him from the smell, but I doubt it. Especially not if he’s showered. The doctor is right about the wound. She was stabbed in the bum with a stiletto heel. She was hit hard enough to break the shoe. The sole is lying under the small of her back. I’ve left it there. There is hardly any blood, so her heart had stopped before she was stabbed and I can’t find another mark on her. This must be a curse-death,’ said Lavender. ‘I’ve put her back exactly where she was,’ she added, answering Bobbie’s unspoken question.

‘Curse death! Is there no alternative?’ asked Bobbie.

‘She might have been poisoned,’ admitted Lavender. ‘But I can’t smell any poison, and there’s no sign of foaming or burning in her mouth. I think it’s unlikely.’

‘The matching shoe is over here, and she’s barefoot. Are they her shoes, Lavender?’ Bobbie asked. Lavender walked to the iron-bound chest, on which a second red stiletto lay. She sniffed it, and waved her wand over it.

‘Yes, it’s hers.’

‘It looks like this shoe hit the wall here and fell onto the chest.’ Bobbie pointed to a faint red mark on the white plaster wall. ‘Either she kicked it off with some force, or she took it off and threw it.’

‘The sole of the other shoe was very near the wound,’ observed Lavender.

Susan was looking up. An old iron chandelier was attached to one of the beams spanning the walls. The circular structure hung from chains in the centre of the room. Susan conjured a set of stepladders and climbed up to examine it.

‘There are hairs caught on here,’ Susan said.

Using her wand, she carefully removed a single strand of hair, descended, and Vanished the ladders. One quick wave of her wand was enough. ‘It’s our victim’s hair,’ Susan confirmed.

‘But that chandelier is fifteen feet in the air,’ said Bobbie.

‘Some cursed items lift the person high into the air while they are killing them,’ Lavender explained. ‘Harry told us about an opal necklace, it lifted the victim at least six feet into the air, cursed her, and then dropped her.’

Susan’s heels clattered as she walked across the floor. The blonde always wore heels, it was her one eccentricity. Bobbie and Lavender invariably wore sensible flat soles when working, because they were easier to run in. Bobbie looked down at her Susan’s feet and was immediately struck by an idea.

‘What about this as a theory, Susan,’ suggested Bobbie. ‘Your heels make a lot of noise on this floor. What if the victim took her shoes off in order to sneak across the room? Because … because someone was trying to break into the chest. She got hit by this curse and then flew up into the air…’

‘She dropped a shoe when the curse hit her,’ suggested Lavender.

‘Yes,’ said Bobbie. ‘And then she dropped onto her stiletto from a height of six feet or more, it stabbed her and broke. Would that work?’

It’s certainly one explanation,’ said Susan. ‘But why was the other shoe on the chest?’

‘The killer is Striggiday,’ said Lavender with certainty. ‘He was checking on the pearl for some reason when Helena sneaked into the room. He turned, with the pearl in his hand, she threw a shoe at him, he threw the pearl at her. She floats up, dies and drops on the shoe. He puts the pearl back and pretends nothing has happened. Case solved!’ Lavender sounded pleased with herself.

‘Why?’ Susan asked. ‘First, if the pearl is cursed, he can’t touch it either. Second, what is his motive? If they had just … done it … downstairs, why did he kill her?’

‘Done it?’ Lavender teased. ‘Shagged, bonked, boffed, bumped bellies, got their rocks off, fornic…’

‘Enough, Lavender,’ Susan snapped. ‘Don’t try to change the subject. There are a lot of holes in that theory. Your killer doesn’t have a motive, and you know he doesn’t!’

‘True, it’s a good theory, apart from the problem of the pearl, and the complete lack of motive. Why don’t we see if the pearl is in this chest,’ said Lavender. She pointed her wand at the lock. Nothing happened.

‘Alohomora,’ she said, sounding annoyed. Still nothing happened. She began passing her wand carefully over the chest.

Susan, curious, joined Lavender. She knelt down in front of the lock and examined it closely. Bobbie stood and watched them for a moment. It was at times like these when she felt useless. With nothing better to do, she methodically searched the room again.

‘This chest is seven or eight hundred years old, and it’s absolutely covered in enchantments,’ said Lavender.

‘So is the lock,’ announced Susan. ‘It will take me hours to figure out what all these spells do. I think that we should get Striggiday up here to open the chest, if he can. We need to see what’s inside; we need to see the pearl.’

‘There’s nothing else here,’ said Bobbie, disappointedly finishing her search. Then she realised. ‘There’s nothing else here! No handbag or purse or mobile phone or makeup.’

‘They weren’t in the green room either,’ said Lavender. ‘Perhaps the killer took them.’

‘Or perhaps they are in her room,’ said Susan.

‘I think that we should question the suspects,’ Bobbie suggested. ‘I can do it, if you like. I can’t help with any of the enchantments, but I might be able to find the killer.’

‘We’ll all go,’ said Lavender. ‘I want to hear what Striggiday has to say about Helena.’

They opened the door to find both Jackson and the doctor waiting impatiently.

‘Well?’ Inspector Jackson asked.

‘She’s dead and we don’t know why,’ said Susan.

‘Perhaps she touched the cursed green pearl,’ Lavender added mischievously.

The doctor snorted in disbelief.

Motive and Opportunity

‘I’d like to interview the suspects now, Joe,’ said Bobbie as they descended to the library.

‘Fine, but I want to sit in on the interviews,’ Inspector Jackson demanded.

‘Okay,’ said Bobbie hastily, attempting to cut off any objection from her colleagues. She succeeded. Susan glowered unhappily, but did not contradict her. Bobbie was relieved. Jackson seemed to be a reasonable man, and there was nothing to be gained by annoying him.

They continued downstairs in silence. Inspector Joe Jackson pushed open the door to the library and looked around at the eight individuals still sitting there. Archie Dark had jumped visibly when they entered. He was by far the most nervous of the television people. He was pale, shaking and sweating profusely.

Next to Archie, the dark-haired cameraman, Bill Kenny, sat impassively, his arms folded. ‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ Kenny announced abruptly.

‘What makes you think that it’s murder?’ Bobbie demanded. She watched with interest as everyone exchanged glances.

‘If she wasn’t murdered, why are we all still here?’ the prune-faced man asked.

‘It’s Mr Sidney, isn’t it?’ enquired Bobbie.

‘That’s me, darlin’.’ The man jerked his head forwards in a curt confirmatory nod.

‘Well, Mr Sidney, the doctor has not yet determined a cause of death. Until she does, then the death is suspicious.’ Bobbie looked meaningfully around the room.

‘And you’re the suspects,’ Inspector Jackson added.

‘Is there somewhere we can conduct interviews, Inspector?’ Bobbie asked. Jackson shrugged.

‘My office is the first door on the right on the guest corridor,’ Oswald Striggiday volunteered, pointing to the only other door from the library. ‘You can use it; if it will help resolve this quickly.’

‘Thank you,’ said Bobbie. ‘Lead on, Mr Striggiday, We’ll start with you.’

Striggiday led them from the library into a wood-panelled corridor which ended at a fire door. There were eight other doors leading from the corridor, four on either side. Striggiday led them through the first door on the right.

Rather than enter the room, Susan broke away from the group and strode rapidly down the corridor.

‘I just want to check this fire door,’ she announced, marching along to the door at the far end.

Striggiday looked startled, but ignored her sudden departure and led them into a large and very old fashioned office. The walls were panelled in the Tudor style and the wood had been thickly varnished. The walls were so dark a brown as to almost be black. Although the varnish reflected light from the central chandelier, the room was gloomy. To the left of the door was an old mahogany table with a red leather top. Six matching chairs surrounded it. To the right, under a high and narrow diamond-pane which was the only window in the room, a matching mahogany and red-leather desk and chair stood prominent and proud. The well-worn chair showed signs of many years of use. The computer sitting on one side of the desk was the only indication that they had not stepped back in time more than fifty years.

Striggiday strode toward the chair behind his desk, but Bobbie intercepted him and guided him to the meeting table instead. She seated him on one side and arranged the chairs so that she and Jackson were facing him. Bobbie was still rearranging the chairs when Susan arrived back.

‘The fire door has not been opened for over six months,’ the blonde witch announced.

Bobbie nodded and accepted Susan’s word. Susan had used some magic test, no doubt. The slender blonde witch sat down at one end of the table, facing Lavender. Striggiday was facing two police officers and was flanked by two witches.

‘Thank you, Mr Striggiday, this will make an excellent interview room,’ Bobbie began. ‘Can you tell us how well you knew Miss Anncart?’

‘Hardly at all,’ Striggiday began. ‘I’d discussed filming with Jim, Mr Sidney, but I didn’t meet anyone else until yesterday.’

‘You would not describe your relationship with her as intimate?’ Bobbie asked.

The colour fell from Striggiday’s face, and he nervously cracked his knuckles.

‘Her perfume is on your bed. We could smell it,’ Bobbie added. ‘You slept with her. Did you kill her?’

‘I - I,’ Striggiday sat in silence. ‘I refuse to speak without my lawyer present.’

‘Yer not under arrest, Striggiday,’ Joe Jackson said.

‘Inspector Jackson is right: this isn’t a formal interview, Mr Striggiday,’ Bobbie said. ‘You can refuse to say anything, if you wish.’

‘Of course, if you refuse to talk we can arrest you, handcuff you, take you to the local nick, and question you under caution. By the time we’ve done the paperwork and we’re ready to talk to you, we should have the test results,’ said Jackson.

‘This is simply a friendly chat, an interview with a potential witness,’ Bobbie added. ‘You aren’t being recorded, so nothing you say will be admissible in court, unless you agree to sign a statement.’

Striggiday’s face creased in indecision.

‘Starting out with a lie wasn’t very clever,’ said Lavender mildly.

Bobbie glanced across to Lavender and quietened the witch. Lavender was impatient, but Bobbie wanted to allow Striggiday to worry for a few moments. Soon, she saw the decision in his eyes. He sighed.

‘We were in my room for about half an hour, from half-past four. I didn’t kill her. She was alive when she left my room. I - we - it - we - she - it was her idea. She - suggested that we get together. She was an attractive young woman, and we - spent some time together - this afternoon.’ Striggiday looked at his interrogators. ‘It’s not a crime!’

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Bobbie. Susan sat in pinch-faced disapproval, but said nothing.

‘Afterwards, she asked me to take her up to the pearl room at the top of the tower. She wanted to see the pearl before anyone else. I refused. She - tried to persuade me, but I said no. We argued, and I threatened not to let the crew see it during the broadcast. I should never have agreed to let this lot film me opening the chest.’ Striggiday shook his head sadly.

Susan and Lavender were both about to interrupt, but Inspector Jackson’s presence made them cautious, and Bobbie managed to silence them with a warning look.

‘I wouldn’t change my mind, so she left,’ Striggiday continued. ‘I found a clean shirt, changed, and then I went downstairs myself. I passed the young guy with glasses on the stairs. He was carrying a lot of gear which he set up outside my bedroom. They’d decided that my room would be where they found the green lady. I wanted them to use the room above, but mine looked better, apparently.’

‘Where they found the Green Lady? You mean they planned where they would find a ghost before the programme had begun?’ Susan asked curiously.

‘They planned everything in advance; they even planned how they’d move from one place to another during the ad-breaks. They didn’t leave anything to chance.’

‘Apart from a suspicious death,’ observed Lavender.

‘What did you do after you’d … finished,’ Bobbie asked.

‘I’d agreed to discuss some financial matters with Jim Sidney at five o’clock. When I came downstairs I met Jim in here. I’d agreed to let him use this room for a conference call to London and he was already here when I arrived. We talked, and I went down for a meal with the rest of the crew. Helena wasn’t there. She was the only one not to go to the restaurant. She stayed in her room because she didn’t want to eat…’

‘Did she tell you that?’ Bobbie asked.

‘No, apparently she spoke to that plump woman, the sound engineer. I forget her name.’

‘Hattie Coates,’ Inspector Jackson supplied the name from his notebook.

‘Yes, that’s her,’ said Striggiday gratefully. ‘Hattie knocked on Helena’s door before they went for their meal, and Helena told her that she wasn’t hungry, that she was watching her figure. Ask her. Hattie told all of us, while we were eating.’

‘So, what happened after the meal?’ asked Bobbie.

‘We came back upstairs together. I let everyone back into the library; I’d locked up when we left. Jim and I came back here, into this office, and continued our meeting. When we finished, he left. I tried to do some work. This hotel doesn’t run itself,’ he said. ‘But I was interrupted.

‘I got a call from reception because Jim was demanding to see our security tapes from the front door. He was trying to find Helena. I walked down to reception and sorted it out. Jim and I watched the tapes, which showed that Helena hadn’t left the hotel. We came back up here together. Then I went into makeup, because Jim insisted. Helena was supposed to be interviewing me, in the pearl room, during the third part of the programme. I came out at quarter to eight, not long before they went on air.’ Striggiday stopped and looked sadly at his questioners. ‘This was supposed to bring me more business,’ he mumbled.

‘It probably will,’ said Inspector Jackson acidly.

‘So, you last saw Helena when you left her in your room?’ Bobbie asked.

‘No, she left first. I told you,’ said Striggiday.

‘And you were never alone after that?’ Bobbie asked.

‘I was alone in my room for a few minutes after she’d gone, and again after Jim left. That would have been a little before seven. But, like I said, Jim went downstairs and began to pester the reception staff, asking for the security video. Reception phoned me at about twenty past seven.’

‘Seven twenty-one, I got Tyson to check,’ said Inspector Jackson. Striggiday nodded gratefully.

‘The only way out of this wing is through the library,’ he continued. ‘When I went downstairs, the library was busy. Bill and Simon and Hattie were all setting up their equipment. I met Jim, and we fast-forwarded through the security tapes together. We came back up here, that would have been a little after half past. Jim was in a foul mood.’

‘Did Helena take her handbag with her when she left your room?’ Susan asked.

Striggiday looked puzzled. ‘Of course she did, it was some designer label. She made a fuss about it. I should’ve been impressed, I think, but I’d never heard of the make. I think she said that it was Moo-moo?’

Susan and Bobbie exchanged a glance. Bobbie wondered how she could explain the concept of designer labels.

‘Thank you, Mr Striggiday,’ said Bobbie. ‘That will be all, for now. Lavender would you mind taking Mr Striggiday back to the library. We’ll speak to Jim Sidney, next, please.’

Lavender stared at Bobbie for a moment. The curly-haired witch didn’t quite wink, and her expression changed from surprise to one of polite obedience. ‘Yes, Inspector Beadle,’ she said demurely. Bobbie was certain that Lavender had understood: she would ask Striggiday about the pearl.

Bobbie watched as Lavender looked innocently into Striggiday’s face, said, ‘Come with me, please,’ and escorted the hotel owner from his own office.

Lavender could be annoying, but she loved make-believe. If one of the team needed to be the secretary, or the junior, or the vamp, or the idiot, or anything, Lavender was always happy to play the role. Susan had her strengths too. She was hard working, extremely thorough, and frighteningly well-prepared, but Susan was always Susan, she couldn’t be anyone else.

‘It weren’t ‘im,’ Joe Jackson observed after Striggiday and Lavender left. ‘She died around five o’clock; he certainly ‘ad opportunity. He could’ve killed her in his room and carried her upstairs, or taken her up to see this pearl and killed her there. The timing fits. But he’s got no motive.’

‘You’re probably right,’ agreed Bobbie.

Their discussions were interrupted by the arrival of Lavender with Jim Sidney.

‘Here’s the next suspect, Inspector Beadle,’ said Lavender when she returned. She escorted the prune-faced man to the vacant chair and motioned him to sit.

‘Suspect?’ Jim queried the description. He held out his hands, palms uppermost, and smiled. His expression made even more lines appear on his already wrinkled face, turning what had been valleys of flesh into canyons. ‘Now then, now then! We’ll have none of this â€�“suspect” nonsense. I liked Helena. She was going to be a star. Why on earth would I want to kill her?’

‘When was the last time you saw Miss Anncart?’ Bobbie began.

‘She sent me a text at…’ Jim Sidney pulled out his mobile phone and checked ‘… seven eighteen, â€�“gon 4 wk n grnds bk soon”. Course, she was lyin’, she never left the hotel. Silly cow…’

Susan glared at him.

‘…That’s a term of endearment, honest, darlin’,’ he added. He held up his phone and showed the message to Bobbie and Joe.

‘When was the last time you saw Miss Anncart?’ Bobbie repeated her question.

‘Ah, sorry, darlin’, my mistake. D’you reckon that somebody else sent the text?’ he asked.

Bobbie gave him what she hoped was an inscrutable smile.

‘We were all together for the pre-programme briefing at quarter to four. Me, Val, Archie, Helena, Simon, Bill, Ruby, and Hattie were all in the library. We finished just before half past. Then we all went back to our rooms to prepare. The technical crew needed to get their stuff sorted, and Val, Helena and Archie had scripts to read,’ Jim explained.

‘Scripts? I thought this was a live show,’ said Bobbie.

Jim reached across the table and patted Bobbie’s hand sympathetically. ‘Bless you, darlin’, there’s live, and there’s live. We need a script. Let’s face it. Ghosts don’t float through the walls and make arrangements with you before the broadcast.’

‘They do if you ask them nicely,’ said Lavender. ‘But there are no ghosts here; I’d know if there were.’

‘You a psychic, darlin’?’ Jim asked. ‘You’re a good looking girl, and we’ve got a vacancy.’

‘Sorry,’ said Lavender, giving Jim a sultry smile. ‘I make it a rule never to work for anyone who calls me darlin’. I wouldn’t call Inspector Beadle that, either, if I were you.’

Jim looked at from one woman to the other, then turned to Susan and tried his smile on her. ‘I like the cool professional image, too,’ he said. ‘The hair bun helps.’

Susan remained silent and impassive.

There was an element of roguish charm about Jim Sidney, Bobbie thought. There was a constant twinkle in his eye as if nothing, not even the death of a member of his crew, was really serious. But he was sharp, too. He deliberately looked to the three young women, trying to charm them, and only then did he look at other man in the room.

‘Special Branch, eh?’ Jim asked Inspector Jackson, nodding towards Bobbie. ‘Remind me why this lot are here. I’ve forgotten.’

‘You haven’t forgotten, because I haven’t told you,’ Joe said. Jim Sidney grinned and gave an â€�“it was worth a try” shrug.

‘What were your movements after the meeting?’ Bobbie asked.

‘I cleared up in here and followed Val back to our room. She was reading the script. I picked up my laptop and papers, then came back here, into this room. I needed to make a video-conference call to London, and Ozzie said I could do it here.’

‘Ozzie?’ Susan asked.

‘Mr Striggiday, blondie. First name Oswald, gets called Ozzie.’ Jim spoke slowly, in a tone which even a five-year-old would have recognised as disparaging. ‘Anyway, Val doesn’t like me hanging around her before a show. Plus, she was really bloody annoyed with me ‘cos I’d agreed to let Helena do the intro. Ruby was in here when I got back. She was looking for Ozzie, flapping about something, some make-up problem. I wasn’t paying attention. I told Ruby to sort it out herself.’

‘Where was she?’ Bobbie asked.

‘At the desk, sitting in Ozzie’s big red chair,’ said Jim, turning and looking over his shoulder at the desk. ‘She said she was looking for a diary, to try to find out where he’d gone. But she’s always poking her nose where it isn’t wanted. You want to know what’s been going on, ask Ruby. She knows all our secrets. Everyone confides in the make-up artist; they’re stuck in her chair while they’re getting ready and they tell her things they really shouldn’t.’

‘Was she surprised to see you?’ Bobbie asked.

‘Yeah! She scarpered pretty quick when I arrived. She picked up her make-up bag and left.’

‘And how long were you in here?’ enquired Joe.

‘About half an hour. I was talking to London, you can check. And I was still here when Ozzie came back. He’d been up to his room to change his shirt ‘cause Bill didn’t like it. It was the wrong colour for the cameras. Me and Ozzie had a bit of a meeting. He thought he could use photos of Val in his hotel publicity leaflets; I told him he couldn’t. We’d paid him top dollar to film here, and I said that was all the free publicity he was getting. I’m Val’s husband, producer, manager and agent. I make damn sure that she gets paid for everything she does. We were discussing terms for a photo deal when the call came up that our food was being served. We always eat early before a show.

‘We went to the restaurant, ate and came back. Ozzie let us back in again.’

‘The door was locked?’ asked Bobbie.

‘Yeah, me an’ Ozzie were last ones out on the way down and I checked it. You can’t be too careful. Last season someone nicked Jim’s steady-cam just before broadcast. What a bloody nightmare that was! Anyway, after the meal - bloody awful by the way, don’t eat here - me an’ him came back here and finished our meeting. By then, the crew were setting up in the library. We must’ve finished just after quarter past, ‘cos I was on my way back to my room when Helena sent her text. I was bloody furious! I went straight downstairs and spoke to the reception staff. I wanted them to find Helena, but they said that she hadn’t gone out. I asked to see the security tapes, but they wouldn’t let me. Bloody jobsworths! I argued with them until, Ozzie came and sorted it out. They were right. Helena hadn’t left! Me and Ozzie came back up together, again, and then it was action stations! We were all busy.’

‘One final thing, Mr Sidney, can you give me Miss Anncart’s mobile phone number?’ asked Bobbie.

Jim did so, and Bobbie made a careful note of it.

‘Thank you, that will be all for now. You can see yourself out.’

Jim Sidney nodded and stood. ‘I don’t suppose you’d let us film you working?’ he asked. ‘It’d be nice to get something from this.’

‘What do you think?’ enquired Bobbie.

‘I think it was worth askin’, darlin’.’ Jim grinned, winked, and left.

‘He’s not exactly grieving, is he?’ observed Susan, her lips a thin disapproving line. ‘What an unpleasant man.’

‘He’s a chancer,’ Lavender observed. ‘He’s more interested in how to replace her than how she died. I still think that Ozzie is more likely. What do you think, Joe?’

‘I think you three know more than you’re telling, and I know you’re thinking the same as me!’ said Joe. ‘We need to find Anncart’s mobile phone. It wasn’t on the body, so where the hell is it? You’re late thinking about the number, Bobbie. I got it earlier, from Ryman, and I tried phoning it. But, wherever it is, it’s switched off.’

‘She didn’t have anything with her,’ said Susan thoughtfully. ‘No handbag, no phone, not even her room key.’

‘Bugger!’ said Joe. ‘Yer right!’

‘I think that we should talk to Jim’s wife, next. Will you collect her, please, Lavender?’ Bobbie asked.

‘Okay, boss.’ Lavender grinned.

Valerie Mallory was a professional broadcaster, and it showed in her statement. She calmly and quickly listed her movements after the pre-broadcast meeting. She had gone to the room she was sharing with her husband. He had come with her to collect his laptop. She had spent the next three-quarters of an hour reading her script, because it was her job to hold the show together and someone had to lead the others through it. She had eaten a â€�“frankly appalling” meal, returned to her room and stayed there rereading the script, including Helena’s parts, for another three quarters of an hour.

She’d finally received her make-up call at quarter to seven. Makeup had taken much longer than it should have done because of Ruby’s anxious prattling about Helena. When she left Ruby’s room, it had been half-past seven, and she had then gone to the library to agree shots and angles with Bill.

‘And that’s it,’ she concluded.

‘So, you don’t have an alibi. You were alone in your room,’ observed Bobbie.

‘I am Valerie Mallory,’ Valerie reminded her with the assurance of someone use to being treated with a degree of deference. ‘I’m certain that you watched me when you were a little girl, Inspector. I’m not a killer. Why would I murder that jumped-up little strumpet? Because she was trying to steal my job? I’ll be honest with you, Bobbie. Can I call you Bobbie?’

Bobbie nodded.

‘Well, Bobbie, I was annoyed when Jim told me that he was going to let her open the show. I was going to have a word with her. So, after Jim left to make his conference call, I knocked on her door. She didn’t answer. I went back to my room and phoned hers. She was not there. When I realised that she’d gone off somewhere, I assumed that she’d found a man. She brought a scruffy young layabout into her room when we were in Stoves Castle last Saturday. Jim went mad. I thought that she’d probably found herself a man here too, but that this time she’d gone to his room, so that Jim wouldn’t find out.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Bobbie saw Inspector Jackson twitch.

Valerie laughed. ‘She did!’ Valerie squealed delightedly. ‘Well, that proves my innocence. My suspicions were correct. She was having it off with some bloke instead of preparing for the show. I knew she’d be unprepared, and I was looking forward to seeing her make a fool of herself on live television. Anchoring a live programme isn’t easy, especially when you’re more interested in finding a bloke than reading a script. I would have torn her to shreds!’ Valerie finished smugly.

‘Literally?’ Lavender asked.

Valerie dismissed the question with a wave of her well-manicured hand.

‘Of course not … Lavender, isn’t it? Making Helena look like a fool on live television would have been so much more satisfying,’ said Valerie. ‘And, my dear girl, I can tell that you know it would. I’ll bet you’ve unleashed the bitch on a few occasions.’

‘I do it regularly,’ Lavender admitted.

‘Besides, I’ve done crime shows,’ said Valerie. ‘I presented Thiefwatch for a few years. If I was going to kill someone, I’d be certain that I had an alibi. So, are we finished?’

Bobbie and Joe simply nodded. Valerie Mallory stood, smiled politely, and left.

‘She seems to think that we should know her and like her,’ observed Susan.

‘That was Valerie Mallory,’ said Joe.

‘It was,’ Bobbie agreed.

‘Did you ever bake her chocolate Easter cake? My mam went mad with me when I tried.’ Joe grinned.

Bobbie laughed, ‘Yes, I…’

Susan cleared her throat noisily.

‘She used to present the world’s longest-running children’s television show,’ Bobbie explained. ‘Joe and I grew up with her.’

‘How is it possible that you don’t know who she is?’ asked Joe curiously.

‘We have interviews to conduct. Let’s have Archie Dark in next, please. Do you mind, Lavender?’ asked Bobbie hastily, trying to divert Joe from asking any more awkward questions.

‘Not at all.’ Lavender grinned. ‘How do you want me to play him? I could be the gullible believer, ask him to try to reach out to the other side and ask the victim whodunit.’

‘Try it, if you want,’ said Bobbie.

Lavender nodded and left. Joe tried to return to the subject of Valerie Mallory, but Bobbie managed to divert him back onto the crime.

‘She does have opportunity, Joe,’ Bobbie reminded him.

‘Yeah, but, like she said, she’s not stupid. If she’d planned it, she’d have given herself an alibi. And she’s a professional; she wouldn’t have interrupted the show, either,’ said Joe.

‘That’s a very good point,’ Bobbie agreed. ‘She’s a â€�“show must go on” person. She’d have waited until they were off-air. Really, it’s a stupid time to kill someone. Perhaps it was an accident or unplanned.’

The door opened, and Joe’s reply remained unspoken.

‘The spirits don’t work in that way, my dear girl,’ Archie was saying. ‘You can’t simply call them up and ask for an answer. You must wait patiently and listen carefully, and be grateful for any snippets you get. The orb told me, you know. I foretold the tragic death of a young woman.’ Archie Dark sobbed dramatically. Lavender nodded understandingly. She had linked her arm through his and was staring at him in admiration. She escorted him to the chair Valerie had recently vacated and fussily helped him to sit.

‘The â€�“orb” is plastic and batteries, and broken; I saw it,’ Bobbie observed. ‘But you still managed to predict her death. How did you know she was dead? Did you kill her?’

‘I, er, I…’ Archie turned pale, and his chins began to tremble. Bobbie was astonished by the reaction her rather flippant question had achieved. She’d almost dismissed dithery old Archie Dark as a suspect the moment he’d entered the room.

Lavender reached across and squeezed the elderly man’s hand. ‘We simply want to find out how she died, and who killed her, Archie,’ she said. His lower lip drooped, and he began to cry.

‘It was me!’ said Archie. ‘I did it. I didn’t mean too; I only wanted to make her uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to kill her.’

‘You!’ Inspector Jackson snorted in disbelief. ‘How?’

With tears in his eyes, Archie reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out two items. The first, which he almost threw onto the table, was a wax doll with single hair wrapped around its head. A pin was sticking through the doll’s chest. The second, which he retained in his hand, was an ancient iron key. He stared at the key as though he’d never seen it before, and then absent-mindedly dropped it back into his pocket.

Susan pulled on a black leather glove, carefully picked up the wax doll from the table and examined it. Bobbie watched the blonde witch as she reached inside her coat with her free hand, held onto her wand, and silently cast a spell. Archie meanwhile was wailing and moaning in an extravagant display of remorse.

‘Are you really admitting to killing Helena Anncart by sticking a pin in a voodoo doll?’ asked Bobbie incredulously.

Archie nodded and shed even more tears. ‘I didn’t mean to do it,’ he sobbed. ‘I just wanted her to get ill. Jim wants rid of me. Helena told me; she said Jim wanted a young and sexy psychic, not a - not a - a fat old has-been of a queen. I thought that if she was ill, if she did badly - so I made the doll - I stuck in the pin, and now she’s dead!’ He slumped forwards, put his head in his hands, and wailed.

Lavender stood and walked behind him. She glanced at Susan, who shook her head. Lavender placed her hands on Archie’s shoulders.

‘You didn’t kill her, Archie,’ Lavender spoke softly.

‘Not with this doll; it isn’t at all magical,’ Susan said.

‘And anyway, you need intent,’ said Lavender. ‘In order to kill someone with magic, you need to really mean it, to really want them dead. You can’t kill someone if all you want is to give them an upset stomach.’

Archie Dark raised his tear-stained face and stared at Lavender.

‘We’re experts, Archie,’ Lavender assured him. ‘You can’t have killed her with that doll.’

Joe Jackson was becoming annoyed; Bobbie nudged him. ‘They know what they’re doing,’ she whispered. ‘Give them a chance.’

It took several minutes, and a shot of whisky from Striggiday’s drinks cabinet, before Lavender managed to calm Archie down. She slowly coaxed out his story.

After the pre-broadcast meeting finished at four thirty, Archie Dark had been in his room. While there he’d made the Helena doll. Archie admitted that he had stabbed the doll with a pin until he felt better. It was obvious that this was something he’d done before. Further careful and wide-eyed questioning by Lavender led to him revealing that he’d apparently made several â€�“Jim” dolls over the years. This, however, was the first time that any doll had worked.

Like Valerie, Archie said that he had been reading his script, and had not left his room until Hattie had called him for the meal. When they returned at six o’clock, he’d gone straight into make-up. After make-up, he went back to his room to read the script, and he’d stayed there until just after quarter past seven, when Hattie had reminded him that it was time to prepare. He’d followed her along to the library.

Bobbie thanked him, assured him that they would tell no one about the doll and told him that he could leave.

‘What’s the key for?’ she asked conversationally as he stood.

‘Key?’ Archie remembered and, puzzled, fished it back out from his pocket. ‘I’ve never seen it before,’ he said. ‘I’ve no idea how it got into my pocket. It’s very old, isn’t it?’

Bobbie watched him carefully, she was aware that Inspector Jackson was doing the same. Archie’s confusion certainly seemed genuine.

‘May I?’ requested Bobbie. Archie handed her the key. ‘It’s definitely not yours?’

Archie shook his head and shrugged. ‘No. I’ve no idea how it got into my pocket.’

‘Can I keep it?’ Bobbie asked.

‘Of course, it isn’t mine. Can I go, now?’ begged Archie.

‘Yes, go straight back to the library, and don’t say anything about the interview,’ Bobbie ordered, passing the key to Susan. ‘We may need to speak to you again.’ Archie’s face fell.

‘You aren’t in any trouble, Archie,’ Lavender assured him as she ushered him out and closed the door. ‘Make your own way back. We need to discuss something.’

‘This is the key to the pearl chest,’ announced Susan. ‘We need to find out whether the pearl has been stolen.’

‘He gave it up very easily,’ observed Lavender.

‘Either he’s a bloody good actor, or someone planted it on him,’ said Joe. ‘What was all that voodoo nonsense?

‘It was voodoo nonsense,’ said Susan sharply. ‘We regularly deal with people who believe in ghosts and magic, Inspector. We’re used to their strange beliefs.’

‘The girls who believe in tragically romantic vampire nonsense are the worst,’ Lavender added. ‘I’m sure that you won’t be surprised to discover that it’s impossible for Archie to have killed Helena by sticking a pin into a wax doll he’s made,’ said Lavender, her eyes twinkling. ‘Our method’s might be a little unorthodox, Joe, but we got what we needed from him, didn’t we? Poor old sod. Still, perhaps making an effigy of someone who annoys us, and sticking pins in it, might do us all good, eh Susan? I’ll even give you one of my hairs if you like.’

Susan Bones laughed.

The Key to the Problem

‘You three seem to know a lot of strange stuff,’ observed Joe.

‘We’re paid to know strange stuff,’ said Bobbie, trying to reassure him.

Joe Jackson smiled. ‘When you arrived, the uniforms outside radioed me. They told me that Charlie’s Angels were on the way up!’

‘Charlie’s Angels?’ Bobbie laughed and hoped that the Detective Inspector hadn’t noticed Susan and Lavender’s puzzled expressions. ‘I’m flattered, but I won’t ask which of us is which.’

‘You aren’t Charlie’s Angels, but I’m not certain what you really are. Why are you interested in this case?’ Joe asked. ‘I’ve met a few nuclear cops, and you definitely aren’t nuclear cops. They all carry guns, for a start. In fact, although you’re on the job, Bobbie, these two aren’t.’

Bobbie gazed at the wiry detective, and realised that their initial cover had failed.

‘I am Special Branch, Joe. The reason we don’t announce ourselves is because we’re more X-Files than Charlie’s Angels,’ admitted Bobbie. ‘I’ve been a cop since I left school I know how the police rumour-mill works. You’ll be able to find out who we are. I’ve been seconded to a small Home Office Department. It’s called the Auror Office. We deal with the strange stuff. You must have contacts in other forces, just ask around.’ Bobbie knew he would, and she was certain that the Home Office cover story she’d arranged with Harry Potter would hold.

‘That’s not really an answer.’ Joe continued to press. ‘X-Files? I mean…’

‘We investigate strange and unexplained deaths, Inspector,’ said Susan. ‘That’s the only answer you are going to get. If you ask too many questions, we can simply make one phone call and you’ll be pulled from the case.’

‘But I don’t want to do that, Joe,’ Bobbie began firmly, trying to defuse Susan’s threat. ‘You think you can crack this tonight, and I think you’re right. Would you mind giving me a few minutes alone, please? I’d like to talk tactics with these two. We’re on the same side, and I’d really like to keep it that way.’

‘Okay,’ said Inspector Jackson, sighing. ‘Who do you reckon we should talk to next, Bobbie? I’ll go and fetch them.’

‘Thanks, Joe. I think that we should talk to Simon Ryman,’ said Bobbie.

‘I agree,’ said Joe Jackson as he strode towards the door. ‘We should speak to Bill Kenny after that. We need to get the blokes out of the way. If it wasn’t Striggiday, and Helena was playing the field, there’s a chance it’s be a jealous boyfriend. Besides, most killers are blokes.’

The second he left the room, Lavender drew her wand and said, ‘Muffliato’

‘He’s a decent copper,’ Bobbie told her companions. ‘We should be working with him, not annoying him or threatening him, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Susan agreed somewhat reluctantly.

‘Good,’ said Bobbie. ‘We don’t have long. If everyone here is supposed to be a Muggle, there’s an awful lot of magic floating about. What, exactly, do we know? I assume that you’ve been vamping the blokes, Lavender. Have you got anything else for us?’

‘Unless Archie Dark is a much better actor than I think he is, he’s no more than a frightened old lady,’ said Lavender. ‘I really don’t think he had anything to do with it. He had no idea about the key in his pocket and he still doesn’t realise how incriminating it is. Ozzie Striggiday is still my favourite. He actually believes in the curse. I asked him while I was taking him back to the library. He said that he’s never touched the pearl with his bare hands; no Striggiday has, not since the Green Lady. It’s something his father and grandfather insisted on. They keep a pair of leather gloves in the chest with the pearl, and he always wears them. But he rarely even looks at the thing. He seemed genuinely scared of the pearl, but he would, if he’d used it to kill someone and it had worked.’

‘Why not get rid of it?’ Bobbie asked. ‘Did you ask him?’

‘He claims to believe in the prophecy,’ said Lavender. ‘If the pearl leaves the tower, doom will come to the Striggiday family.’

‘We really need to know whether the pearl is still there, or if it has been stolen,’ said Susan.

‘We’ve got the key,’ said Lavender. ‘We can look.’

‘You said â€�“if he’d used it to kill someone”, Lavender,’ said Bobbie. ‘Did you mean it? Do you really think that a Muggle kill another Muggle with a â€�“cursed” pearl?’

Lavender hesitated, and stared at Susan. Susan remained silent and stared back. Each was waiting for the other to answer. Bobbie knew them well enough to know why. Neither of them was certain.

Her colleagues constantly competed against each other; each picked fault with everything the other said. Bobbie remembered a conversation she’d had with her boss, Harry Potter, about them. She’d complained about their bickering. â€�“They’re very different, but they actually do like each other, you know,” Harry had said. â€�“They keep each other right, too. They’re like my old friend’s Ron and Hermione; they rarely agree on anything, but when they do, it’s almost certainly right.”

‘Well?’ Bobbie asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Lavender admitted reluctantly. ‘I believe that, if one Muggle had protective equipment, they could touch someone else with the pearl.’

Susan nodded thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know either, but I think that Lavender might possibly be right. We should check on the pearl, see whether it’s still there. Lavender and I will…’

‘We need to question the others, Susan,’ Bobbie reminded her. ‘And I think one of you two should stay with me. If we’ve missed something, and there is a wizard among the Muggles I could be in a lot of trouble if I’m on my own. I’m sure Lavender can manage to check on the pearl.’

Susan reluctantly handed the key to Lavender.

‘Be careful, Lavender,’ said Susan.

‘Don’t worry, Susie. I’m already cursed, remember?’

‘Being a werewolf won’t protect you from a cursed pearl,’ said Susan.

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Lavender grinned impishly. ‘I have to work with you.’

She opened the door to the corridor to find Inspector Jackson and Simon Ryman approaching from the library. Lavender let them enter. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said as he strode from the room, closing the door behind her.

‘Sometimes, she’s insufferable,’ Susan murmured to Bobbie.

‘You should tell her,’ Bobbie whispered back. ‘She’ll be disappointed. I’m certain she’s trying for always.’

Susan Bones laughed.

Simon Ryman sat, turned his chair at an angle, and smiled nervously at Susan. ‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Inspectors Beadle and Jackson will be doing the questioning,’ said Susan.

‘Okay,’ Simon replied. ‘But they are cops. You aren’t, are you?’

Susan shook her head.

‘Good, you seem like you’re straight,’ he said.

‘Susan? As an arrow,’ Bobbie said.

‘Okay, well, here’s what I know,’ began Simon. He continued to address Susan. ‘We’ve been a team for five years now, and we all muddled along with each other until Helena arrived this year, and spoiled everything. She was a bitchy little tart who enjoyed winding everyone else up.’

‘We all work with someone like that,’ said Susan mildly. Bobbie suppressed a chuckle. She was only sorry that Lavender wasn’t in the room.

‘Tell us what you know,’ Bobbie ordered.

Simon put his hands on the table, his palms uppermost in an expression of openness, as he began to talk them through is day. Apart from a few rather clumsy attempts to flirt with Susan, attempts which made Bobbie even sorrier that Lavender wasn’t with them, he was a straightforward witness. Susan, however, was paying no attention to his blandishments.

According to Simon, Helena had tried to seduce him. She’d failed, because he didn’t like obvious and aggressive girls.

‘I prefer the quiet, intelligent, and elegant ones,’ he told Susan.

‘Stick to the facts,’ Bobbie told him.

‘Helena has been winding up both Archie and Valerie for a few weeks,’ he said. ‘She told Archie that the show needed more glamour, and that she’d soon be taking over as our resident psychic. She always referred to Valerie as â€�“that old children’s television presenter”, which is true, but it still annoys Valerie. I think that Helena had something on Bill Kenny too, because in any argument he would always back her up.’ Simon looked apologetically at his inquisitors. ‘I don’t wish anyone dead, but I think that this team will be better off without her.’

‘So, when did you last see her?’ Bobbie asked. ‘And who do you think killed her?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Simon. ‘I saw her in the library, just after the meeting. When Jim finished giving us his usual â€�“this will be the best show ever” speech and told us to go and get ready, everyone left the library. I don’t have much of a script. When we’re on air I simply answer whatever technical questions Valerie asks, keep an eye on my monitoring equipment, and act surprised when the temperature drops suddenly. I spent some time in my room, reading my lines, and then I remembered that I needed to charge the second set of back-up batteries for my gear. I picked up the spares pack from my room and went into the library.’

‘When was that, exactly? Did you see anyone else?’ Joe asked.

‘I can’t be sure of the time. Whenever it was, I saw door into the library close ahead of me, but I didn’t see who had gone in. By the time I got to the library, whoever was in front of me had left. I assume it was Helena, on her way out.’

‘Did anyone else come into the library?’ Susan asked.

‘Yeah, Striggiday walked out from the tower a few minutes after I got there.’

‘When? And when did you set up your sensors on the stairs?’ Bobbie asked.

‘I switched them on at seventeen-oh-six, I checked the readout, and that clock is right, it has to be because we use it to time the programme. Once I’d done that, and checked to make sure they were working, I went back to my room to plug in the emergency back-up batteries.’ Simon continued to address Susan, even though Bobbie had asked the question. ‘Working back from the switch-on, it would have been about five o’clock when I saw Striggiday, and I’d been in the room for about five minutes when he arrived. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me.’

‘And you didn’t see Helena?’ asked Susan. ‘We’ve been told she left the tower a few minutes before Striggiday.’

Simon pulled a face. ‘If that’s where she was, she didn’t come downstairs before him, or after him.

Did you see anyone else?’ Susan asked.

‘No, but when I checked my gear after the meal, I noticed that both the heat sensor and the movement sensor had picked up something. I’ve just checked. The spike was at seventeen-sixteen. Someone moved past the sensors,’ said Simon proudly. ‘That must’ve been the murderer, coming downstairs to join the rest of us for the meal, because there was nothing after that, not until Ruby went upstairs at nineteen-fifty-nine and came back down at twenty-oh-five.’

‘Why don’t you use cameras, instead of movement sensors,’ asked Joe. ‘A video would’ve been bloody useful.’

‘Yeah, but we’re ghost-hunters, and you can’t video a ghost,’ explained Simon. ‘Besides, if there’s no video you can trick the sensors with drafts and fans. It makes a better programme.’

‘Can you be certain that no one interfered with your readings?’ Bobbie asked.

Simon thought again. ‘Not one-hundred-percent certain, no. It’s possible someone fooled the sensors I suppose, but it’s unlikely. Jim and Bill, and possibly Hattie, might be able to do it. Archie couldn’t! Even changing a battery is a major technical challenge for Archie. Not Val, either. Brilliant though she is at â€�“making and baking for the kids”, she is never allowed to do anything technical. I have to fix her mobile phone almost every day. She can accidentally turn it onto silent when she’s expecting an important call, but she can’t figure out how to turn it silent before we go live on air. She’s completely technophobic.’

‘What about the make-up girl, Ruby?’ asked Susan.

‘Ruby? I’ve no idea! She’s never shown much interest in the technical stuff,’ observed Simon.

Lavender burst into the room.

‘You two get out here, now! I’ve solved it!’ she announced triumphantly.

Pulling an apologetic face at Joe and Simon, Bobbie followed Susan into the corridor. Lavender was almost bouncing with excitement. Bobbie closed the door, and they held a hasty conference.

‘I was right; it’s Striggiday,’ Lavender announced. ‘It can’t be anyone else!’

‘Is the pearl missing?’ Bobbie asked.

‘I’ve no idea; I can’t open the chest,’ said Lavender.

‘You can’t…’ Susan began, outraged. She noticed the smirk on Lavender’s face and asked, ‘Why not?’

‘I simply can’t, not even with the key,’ interrupted Lavender. ‘It’s taken me an age to discover exactly why. It’s a personal lock. Only a member of the Striggiday family can open it, and he’s the only one here!’

‘It’s a what?’ Bobbie asked, wondering if the wizarding world would ever run out of new and confusing revelations.

‘A personal lock,’ Susan explained. ‘They are very rare and very expensive magical items. A lot of the old families used them, centuries ago. They are magically tied to a family when they are made. The key will only turn if a member of the family, a direct descendant of the original owner of the chest, turns it. It won’t even work for spouses, only for children. That explains why we couldn’t open it with our spells. Without a key, we’d have to blast it open. But why would Striggiday kill her?’

‘Perhaps he simply showed her the pearl, and she grabbed it,’ suggested Lavender. ‘I suppose that it might have been an accident,’ she added grudgingly.

‘That doesn’t explain the shoes,’ Bobbie pointed out. ‘Why take off your shoes and throw one of them against the wall, if you’re getting what you want?’

‘Apart from that, Lavender, There is an even bigger problem. Simon has just confirmed that he saw Striggiday in the Library just after seven. He said that his monitoring equipment showed that someone else passed the sensors about ten minutes later. Also, Jim Sidney and Striggiday have both told us that they were in here just after seven.’

‘So?’ Lavender shrugged. ‘He did it before then.’

‘So who walked past the movement sensor while Sidney and Striggiday were in their meeting? It can’t have been someone going up, because we know that there was no one hiding upstairs. So, whoever it was went up before the sensors were set up,’ said Susan.

‘Unless there’s no killer, perhaps she went up alone, after the sensors were in place,’ said Lavender. ‘If Helena was really a Striggiday…’

‘Then she slept with her cousin, came downstairs, then went back upstairs later, took off her shoes, opened the chest, touched the pearl, and died,’ said Susan. ‘And after she was dead she locked the chest, came downstairs, and put the key in Archie Dark’s pocket. That’s not your best-ever suggestion, Lavender.’

Lavender lapsed into a sulky silence.

‘The key!’ said Bobbie. ‘Why would anyone put the key in Archie’s pocket? And where is Helena’s mobile phone?’ The killer must be the mysterious person who closed the library door before Simon got there.’

‘Unless it was Simon himself,’ said Susan. ‘He could have been lying about everything.’

Bobbie waved that possibility away for a moment. ‘If we believe Simon, then when Helena left Striggiday’s room, she went upstairs, not down. The killer went up soon after, between Helena leaving Striggiday’s room, and Striggiday himself leaving.’

‘I still think that it’s Striggiday!’ said Lavender stubbornly. ‘We need to get him to open the chest.’

‘No,’ said Susan.

‘We should finish the interviews first,’ suggested Bobbie. ‘There are only three people left to talk to. Let’s see what the cameraman has to say.’

‘But…’ Lavender began.

‘No!’ Susan shook her head firmly and opened the door to Striggiday’s Office.

‘Well?’ Joe Jackson asked.

‘False alarm, Joe,’ Bobbie told him. ‘Lavender gets over-excited sometimes.’

‘You, out,’ Joe told Simon.

Simon left, smiling at Susan as he did so.

‘Is the pearl missing?’ Joe asked.

‘I don’t know. It’s the wrong key, sorry,’ said Lavender.

‘Before we talk to anyone else, let’s agree on what we know,’ Joe Jackson grumbled unhappily. ‘First, are we dealing with a murder?’

‘We think so,’ Bobbie said. ‘We’re still trying to figure out how.’

‘Okay. So, timing?’ Joe asked. ‘We’re bloody lucky with that. They were all in a meeting until half-past four, and she was alive then. They all went for a meal together â€�“not much after quarter past five” or â€�“a bit before half past five” and they weren’t back until six. We haven’t found anyone who saw her after she left Striggiday’s bedroom at about five o’clock, and the Doc reckons that time of death was before six.

‘I agree,’ said Lavender. ‘Helena was definitely dead before they came back up into this part of the hall. I’d say no later than half past five, which means Striggiday...’

‘Striggiday told us that he was on his way downstairs from his room at just after five o’clock, and Simon Ryman has corroborated that,’ Susan interrupted. ‘So, either she was already dead…’

‘In which case it was Striggiday,’ announced Lavender smugly.

‘Or the murder took place within the next fifteen to twenty minutes,’ Bobbie reminded her.

‘So, if it isn’t Striggiday, who is it?’ asked Susan.

‘Jim Sidney claims that he was talking to people in London at the time,’ said Joe. ‘That will be easy to check. He’d be an idiot to give us an alibi we can break in minutes. And Archie Dark was busy sticking pins into a Helena doll. That story is so preposterous that it must be true. We can’t actually discount him, or Valerie, but…’

‘So we shouldn’t,’ said Bobbie firmly. ‘At least, not completely, but you’re right, they should go to the bottom of the list.’

‘Striggiday…’ Lavender began again.

‘Wait!’ Susan held up a hand. ‘If Helena was dead before the meal, how did she manage to tell the sound woman that she wasn’t eating?’

‘Perhaps the sound engineer, Hattie, did it,’ suggested Joe. ‘She lied in order to cover her tracks. She could have been buying herself more time. We haven’t spoken to her yet.’

‘But,’ Susan continued, ‘if she was telling the truth, then someone was in Helena’s room and they spoke to Hattie.’

‘That would have to be a woman,’ said Bobbie. ‘No bloke would risk trying to impersonate a woman’s voice, even a couple of words through a closed door would be too risky.’

‘We need to speak to Hattie,’ declared Susan. ‘If she actually saw Helena, then…’

‘Then we’re buggered,’ Joe stated. ‘Than means she was killed after everyone left and we’re back to square one.’

‘But, if Helena had come down stairs a couple of minutes before Striggiday, Ryman would have seen her, and he didn’t,’ said Bobbie.

‘Unless Ryman killed her and altered his sensors,’ Joe pointed out. ‘But, if she didn’t go downstairs, and she left Striggiday’s room first, that means that she went up. Why would she do that?’

‘She pinched the key to the pearl chest from Striggiday, went up and tried to open it. He followed and killed her,’ said Lavender. ‘It was Striggiday.’

‘That doesn’t explain the shoes!’ Susan said. ‘Or why he did it.’

‘What if the killer pinched the key to the chest?’ Bobbie asked. ‘It’s a robbery gone wrong! The thief steals the key and goes upstairs to steal the pearl. When Helena leaves Striggiday’s room, she hears movement up above. She goes up to investigate and doesn’t come back.’

‘That does explain the shoes,’ said Susan. ‘If she was sneaking up after someone, she’d take those shoes off. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding who she was following.’

‘Helena must’ve had her room key and phone with her. The killer took them and used the phone to stop people looking for Helena. We need to find her handbag, that’s where the phone and key will be,’ said Bobbie.

‘That’s fine so far as it goes,’ said Joe. ‘So answer this one, if Archie Dark is innocent, and I think we agree that he is, then who put that key in his pocket, and why?’

‘To get rid of the key and incriminate Archie?’ asked Bobbie.

‘If it was Striggiday, he’d want someone, anyone to have the key for the chest. That diverts suspicion from him,’ said Lavender.

‘You just told me that it wasn’t the key to the chest!’ Joe glowered angrily at Lavender.

‘I lied. Sorry,’ Lavender admitted.

‘What else aren’t you telling me?’ Joe demanded. ‘Is that damn pearl missing or not?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Lavender.

‘Then give me that bloody key, and I’ll go and find out!’ snapped Joe.

‘No!’ said Susan.

‘Wait,’ said Bobbie. ‘That’s actually a good idea. Not for Joe to open it, but for everyone to try. We can see if anyone, apart from Striggiday, can open the chest.’

‘Anyone apart from Striggiday?’ Joe asked.

‘It’s complicated,’ Susan said.

‘No it bloody well isn’t,’ said Joe. ‘You’re making it complicated! Do you really think that the killer planted the key on Archie?’

‘Yes,’ said Bobbie firmly.

‘’Right, then we’ve got a decent hand, and it’s time we played it! Follow me.’ He stormed along the corridor and hurled the library door open. ‘Right, you lot,’ he said, addressing the assembled suspects. ‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense.’

Bobbie, Lavender and Susan raced after him.

‘You,’ Joe pointed angrily at Hattie Coates, who looked terrified. ‘Before you went downstairs for your meal, did you see Helena, or did you just speak to her through a closed door?’

‘I didn’t actually see her, sir,’ Hattie squeaked. ‘She spoke to me through the door.’

‘How do you know it was Helena?’ Joe demanded. ‘Did you recognise her voice?’

‘Yes - no - I don’t know!’ Hattie burst into tears.

‘You Bully!’ Valerie glared at Inspector Jackson. ‘How dare you, that’s harassment.’ She strode over to comfort the sobbing sound engineer. Jackson looked sheepish.

‘You,’ Jackson demanded, glaring at Oswald Striggiday. ‘Where’s the key to that chest in the tower room?’

‘It’s in my office, in my desk, but… please … you can’t…’ Striggiday began.

‘Show him the key, Lavender,’ ordered Joe. Bobbie suddenly understood the Inspector’s game. Like Joe, she kept her eyes on the suspects. They both saw the same thing, and Bobbie exchanged a glance with the Inspector. Joe looked puzzled, but for Bobbie, most of the pieces suddenly fell into place. She motioned Joe Jackson into silence.

‘Do it,’ Bobbie advised. Lavender complied.

‘That’s it!’ Striggiday was almost screaming. ‘How did you get it? Where did you get it?’

Susan and Lavender automatically looked at Archie. Almost everyone else followed their gaze.

‘It was in my pocket; I don’t know how it got there,’ Archie protested.

‘I do, Archie. And I think I know who killed Helena.’ Bobbie looked from person to person, everyone looked worried. ‘Mr Striggiday, I want you to come back into your office with us,’ ordered Bobbie.

‘Me? Why me?’ Striggiday asked.

‘But it wasn’t…’ Joe Jackson began.

‘Just do it, please,’ she asked again. ‘I know what I’m doing, Joe.’ She tried to reassure the confused Inspector.

Striggiday shrugged and complied, slouching into his office and slumping into the chair. Joe and the three Aurors returned to their seats.

‘I didn’t kill her; I told you the truth,’ Striggiday protested.

Lavender’s grumble of disbelief was drowned out by Bobbie’s reassuring, ‘I know you didn’t.’

‘But,’ Lavender began. Bobbie waved her into silence.

‘Show him the key, Lavender,’ said Bobbie. Lavender pulled out the key and placed it on the table.

‘This is definitely your key, the key to the chest containing the cursed pearl?’ Bobbie asked.

‘Yes,’ Striggiday nodded. ‘That’s it. Why did Archie Dark have it? How did he get it?’

Bobbie ignored his question. ‘Show us where you keep it,’ she demanded.

Striggiday stood and walked over to his desk. Lavender followed, keeping one hand inside her coat. Bobbie simply watched.

‘It’s kept in here.’ Striggiday pointed to the top drawer. ‘It’s always been kept in here.’

‘Open it, please,’ said Bobbie.

Striggiday reached into the side pocket of his blazer and his face fell. His fingers fumbled in the pocket, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

‘Have you lost the desk keys?’ Lavender was almost snarling when she asked the question.

‘No, no,’ Striggiday protested. ‘Here they are.’ He carefully pulled a small bunch of keys from his pocket. He fumbled to find the right key, and when he did, he struggled to fit it in the keyhole. Eventually, he peered carefully at the lock.

‘What’s the matter?’ Lavender asked.

‘The drawer has been forced. Look!’ Striggiday said.

Lavender moved him aside and checked. ‘He’s right,’ she confirmed.

‘Well, that confirms it. It must have been…’ Joe began. Bobbie hissed him into silence.

‘It’s not often that I’m one step ahead of these two Joe,’ Bobbie indicated Lavender and Susan. ‘Please don’t give the game away yet. Now, Mr Striggiday, come back here and sit down please, and then, I’d like you to take out everything else you found in your pocket.’

Striggiday was a pale man, but at Bobbie’s words, his complexion became almost milky white. He began to tremble.

‘I don’t suppose you’ll believe me…’ he began, ‘but, I didn’t kill her.’

‘Huh,’ said Lavender as she followed him back to the table and sat.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vibrant pink mobile phone, and a room key. ‘That is the key to Helena’s room, and that, I assume is her phone. I have absolutely no idea how they got into my pocket, honestly.’ He was almost pleading with Inspector Joe Jackson. ‘I’m being set up, but why, who?’

‘I do believe you,’ said Joe. ‘Everything points to the same person. But I don’t know why. This is a crime without motive, so far as I can see.’

Susan, Bobbie could see, was rapidly reviewing the evidence, wondering what she’d missed. Lavender was simply staring at Striggiday in sullen silence.

‘Joe and I both think we know who the killer is. But we have neither motive nor proof,’ Bobbie explained. ‘Do you have any relatives, Mr Striggiday?’

‘What?’

‘Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles - relatives,’ said Bobbie.

‘No,’ I’m an only child. I’m the last of the Striggidays,’ he said.

‘No one at all?’ Bobbie asked, disappointed.

‘Well, there was my uncle Rod, Dad’s older brother. He was a bit of a rogue, apparently. He fell out with my father and my grandfather before I was born. There was a huge family argument. He stole some valuable books from the library and ran away from home. So far as I know, he’s dead.’

‘Do you know if he had children?’ Bobbie pressed. ‘Is it possible that you might have a cousin?’

‘I suppose so.’ Striggiday shrugged. ‘But what has that got to do with anything?’

‘Inheritance, possibly,’ Bobbie said. ‘When we found the key, Lavender went upstairs and tried to open the chest. She couldn’t. Do you know why?’

‘Granddad and Dad both told me the story. Granddad said that it was the same story that his granddad had told him. It’s a magic key, only a Striggiday can open the chest. I know that it sounds insane, but when I was I my teens, I let my girlfriend at the time try. She couldn’t open it; the key wouldn’t turn.’

‘But any relative, even a Squib, could use it, because they have been doing it for centuries. Your cousin would be able to open the chest,’ said Susan.

‘Squib? What the hell is a Squib?’ asked Joe. ‘A magic key! Only a Striggiday can open the chest? What in the world are you talking about?’

‘Squib is a slang term for a very distant relative. And magic is the wrong word,’ said Bobbie. She pulled on a white glove and picked up the key. ‘I’ll just check to make sure that this is the key to Helena’s room, Joe. Come on, Lavender, I might need help.’ She stood. ‘There might be prints on the phone too, Joe,’ she added.

‘True.’ Joe growled. He pulled out an evidence bag and used his pen to slide the mobile phone into it.

Curious, Lavender stood and followed Bobbie from the room.

‘Who?’ Lavender demanded the moment she closed the door to the study. ‘If not Striggiday, then who?’

‘I’ll tell you an old copper’s trick, Lavender. Inspector Jackson is smart, we can learn from him. He used you to pull the trick for him. He asked you to show everyone the key. When he spoke, almost everyone looked at you. The one person who didn’t looked at Archie instead. Do you know why?’

‘Because they knew where they’d put it,’ said Lavender, as realisation struck. ‘That’s clever, but who was it?’

‘Work it out, Lavender. You heard what Hattie said,’ Bobbie told her friend, smiling. Lavender frowned.

‘Bobbie…’ Lavender began.

‘Look, Lavender,’ Bobbie told her. ‘For once, I’m not out of my depth in magical mayhem; let me have a couple of minutes of fun with you and Susan. Here are some hints. Who had the opportunity to place the key in Archie’s pocket, and the phone and room key in Striggiday’s? Who could have stolen the key to the chest? There is only one name which can be the answer to every question. Think about it.’

The Curse of the Green Pearl

Making certain that the corridor was empty, Lavender opened her Auror wallet. Reaching deep into its Undetectably Extended depths, she pulled out her Dark Detector and activated it. Wand in her right hand and Dark detector in her left, she nodded to her companion.

Bobbie carefully fitted the key into the lock turned it, and pushed open the door. ‘Auror Office,’ she shouted.

The device remained silent, nor was there any other sound. Nevertheless, the two Aurors entered the room cautiously, leaving the door open. Lavender took the lead.

‘Anything?’ asked Bobbie.

Lavender moved into the centre of the room. ‘No, it’s completely clear.’

‘So, it’s possible that the killer still has the pearl,’ said Bobbie. ‘We need to check that chest Lavender.’

‘The make-up girl, Ruby Lipscombe!’ announced Lavender suddenly. ‘Jim Sidney told us that she was in Striggiday’s room, sitting at the desk when he entered. And we know that everyone went into make-up before the show, even Striggiday. Dropping items into someone’s pocket while they’re sitting in a chair having make-up applied would be easy.’

‘Well done,’ said Bobbie.

‘Yes, well done,’ said Susan from behind them.

Lavender and Bobbie looked turned and stared curiously at Susan as she stepped into the room behind them. She was carrying Helena’s mobile phone, still inside its evidence bag.

‘Joe has just found the last piece of the jigsaw. This is a - talk mail - I think he called it. I told him that I’d collect you both so that we can carry out the arrest together. But the moment I left Striggiday’s office I magically sealed the door. I don’t want Joe and Striggiday confronting Ruby, not until we’re certain that she isn’t carrying the pearl,’ said Susan. ‘We need to get her away from the others, out of the library.’

‘What did Joe find?’ Lavender asked curiously.

‘Listen to this,’ said Susan. Holding the pink mobile phone as though one wrong move might make it explode, and with an expression of intense concentration on her face, Susan carefully pressed a button on the phone. To her obvious delight, she succeeded in mastering the Muggle technology. A male voice rang across the room.

‘Helena, darling, it’s Toby; we really must meet up soon. I’ve done that research you asked me for. Ruby Lipscombe’s parents are registered as Anthea Lipscombe and Roderick Striggiday, unmarried. I don’t know why you need to know, but if this is a juicy story and it gets your name in the papers, you owe me a big favour. You know what I like, dear.’

As the message ended, the three Aurors heard a door creak. Instantly alert, they dashed into the corridor. Ruby Lipscombe stood at the other end, just outside the open door to the library. She was opening the door opposite Striggiday’s study. Behind her, the stocky Constable Tyson was watching from the library.

‘This is my room,’ she called. ‘I’m desperate for the loo! The police woman said it was all right for me to go into my room.’

Susan and Lavender reached inside their coats for their wands. Seeing their hands move, Ruby squealed and dashed through the open door into her room. Detective Constable Tyson, who’d been watching the exchange, moved to step out into the corridor, but with a flick of her wand Susan pulled the library door closed and secured it. Tyson and the others were now trapped in the library.

Lavender dashed along the corridor and was first to reach the door to Ruby’s room. Bobbie buttoned up her hex-proof coat and kept well back; she always did when the spells started flying.

‘Auror Office,’ announced Lavender as she peered into the room. She hastily dived aside, her coat flapping as a small green pearl was thrown from the room, missing her by the narrowest of margins. It bounced off the wall and skittered across the floor like a malevolent marble. As Bobbie watched, it seemed to be trailing green smoke behind it. The Aurors waited, allowing it to roll to a halt next to the door frame. Lavender’s Dark Detector was making an urgent screaming noise, so she shut it off.

‘You missed me,’ said Lavender. ‘You killed Helena with that. Why?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Ruby, shouting from inside the room. ‘It’s just a prop. A bit of trickery for the viewers, will you pick it up for me, please?’

‘It’s cursed,’ snapped Lavender. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’ She moved quietly across the corridor, trying to get a good view into the room.’

‘Cursed?’ Ruby laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! No jury would believe that I killed the nosy cow with a cursed pearl.’

‘We would,’ Susan said quietly. ‘That’s what we do, that’s why we’re here. Give yourself up!’

‘Never!’ snarled Ruby from within her room. ‘My parents died penniless. Dad was the eldest, the first born. This place was his by right! They stole it from him. I had it all planned. It would have worked, too, if Helena hadn’t started snooping. Striggiday would have died when he handled the pearl. I was putting holes in his protective gloves when she sneaked up on me. It should have been perfect, a curse death on live television, but Helena caught me in the tower room.’

As Ruby spoke Susan, like Lavender, began edging forwards, cautiously manoeuvring in an attempt to get a clear view into the room. As the two Aurors advanced, a latex-gloved hand reached out from the room and grabbed the pearl. Ruby Lipscombe’s cry of triumph changed instantly into an ear-shattering scream. She flew into the air, bouncing off the high ceiling. She was rigid, glowing green, and floating up against the ceiling.

Lavender took a wary step forwards, but Susan grabbed her coat and pulled her back.

‘There’s nothing we can do now, Lavender,’ she said.

Ruby’s screams stopped suddenly and she thudded to the floor with a fatal finality. The pearl flew from her hand, and the Aurors were again forced to step back until it stopped its random dance across the floor. It finally skittered to a halt against a skirting board, but it continued to glow malevolently at them.

The three Aurors ignored the hammering and shouting coming from both the library and study doors. Lavender cautiously examined Ruby’s body while Susan pulled a pair of long tweezers, some thick leather gloves and a black dragonhide bag from her Auror wallet.

‘She’s dead,’ Lavender announced. ‘The gloves she’s wearing are made of thin plastic, like the police evidence gloves. She’s put a fingernail through them.’

Meanwhile, Susan, wearing the thick leather gloves and holding the tweezers firmly, picked up the pearl and, holding both at arms’ length, dropped it into the bag. The black bag magically sealed itself and a warning began flashing on it. Beneath the flashing skull and crossed bones was the message: â€�“Cursed item, DO NOT OPEN”.

‘So, that’s what a curse death looks like,’ said Bobbie. She was still shaking.

Susan nodded seriously. Lavender stepped forward and hugged Bobbie.

‘We need a Muggle-worthy excuse and a cause of death,’ Susan reminded her friends.

Bobbie thought for a minute.

‘We tell them the truth,’ Bobbie suggested. ‘Ruby wanted to kill Striggiday for the inheritance. Helena found out, and Ruby killed her. We found out and Ruby killed herself.’

‘How did they die?’ Susan asked.

Bobbie thought carefully. ‘Morphine injections. We’ll need to plant some Morphine on Ruby and add a needle wound to both bodies. And we might need to modify everyone’s memory a little. Making them forget that scream will probably be enough. We should make sure that Inspector Jackson gets the credit, too. After all, he was the first to identify her.’

‘True, we will. We’ve got a lot to do, let’s get busy, Susan ordered.

‘He wasn’t first,’ said Lavender straight-faced. ‘It was me. I was right from the very start; it was a Striggiday that did it!’

Susan rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.