Cherringham--The Curse of Mabb's Farm (9 page)

“No worries. Carry on with your sleuthing, boss.”

Another smile.

Worth her weight in gold. Discreet and smart.

“Thanks.” She headed to the door scooping up a yellow pad.

Could be time to start taking some notes.

Cecil Cauldwell sat manning the front desk himself. End of the summer was probably a quiet time for sales and rentals. He looked overdressed for the part, a cream-coloured suit, perfect during midsummer but less so now, with a pale purple tie and matching handkerchief.

The bell over the agency door rang as Sarah breezed in, pad in hand.

“Sarah? Um, how are you?”

Like most of Cherringham, Cecil knew that a visit from Sarah or her American friend these days could mean any number of things.

As Cecil had found out when Mogdon Manor burned down.

“Cecil, phew! Glad you’re here. Just took a shot—”

She imagined that if she had called ahead he might have invented some showing he had to do that would — unfortunately, he’d say — have him out of the office.

Surprise can be useful.

He did not, however, offer her a seat.

She had the thought that estate agents are like doctors and undertakers. They know things about people, their families, their money, their lives; things that no one else would know.

“Cecil, I’ve been helping that young couple out on Mabb’s Farm,”

“They came to you for help?”

“Not exactly. But other people have, concerned people. And I was just wondering about something …”

Her time with Jack should pay off now. Asking a question when you know the answer. The ‘upperhand’, as Jack would call it.

“Ray Fox and his sudden departure. Did he ever talk to you at all, perhaps about selling the farm, or—”

“I’m afraid that is client privilege, Sarah. I’m sure you understand.”

“Certainly.”

Still no offer of a chair was forthcoming.

Cecil was definitely hoping that Sarah would breeze out as quickly as she had breezed in.

“It’s just that, well, it appears that Ray had contacted you. With him gone and all, I was wondering if you might know something?”

“I don’t see what this might have to do with that … couple on the farm. I had nothing to do with
that
arrangement, I can tell you.”

Aha…

“But other arrangements you did?”

Cecil shifted in his seat. Now Sarah was glad she was standing. Another little bit of edge.

“Look, it’s probably no secret that Ray Fox came to see me,”

“And hired you? In some fashion.”

Cecil hesitated. And then: “Er, in a way.”

“I thought representing a property was free, until the sale that is?”

“Too true, but in this case, he knew that the property could easily, maybe more profitably, be sold in pieces, as lots. That requires discreet evaluations, for machinery, livestock, subdividing the property, the various buildings — even the furniture. Some surveying and proposed plans drawn up. There
is
a fee for that.”

“Rather sizeable one?”

Cecil — probably sensing he had already let one cat too many out of the bag — retreated. “I’m afraid that is private. Now if you—”

Sarah made some notes on her pad. Nothing really, but she wanted to have Cecil see her do that and wonder …
what is she writing … what is she thinking … and will this somehow affect me?

“So, you must have been surprised when Ray just upped and left?”

“Well, naturally because of our conversations I knew he wanted to leave. He was good at running the farm, had built up its value. But he didn’t like it. Or the village, for that matter. But he left, as they say,
in media res
. And then to leave everything to that Charlie?
That
I don’t understand at all.”

“Didn’t make sense to you?”

“No. I mean, the property had value. Ray just walked away from it? Left it to that stupid — sorry — his brother?”

“And that payday, would have been … could still be good for you.”

In the silence that followed Sarah’s question, the minute hand from a massive clock in the office produced the loudest click Sarah had ever heard.

Then: “Sarah, the matter is closed for me now. And if you have any more questions, I suggest you go and find Ray Fox. He’ll be the one who can answer them — not me.”

Sarah smiled.

“I appreciate your help, Cecil.”

A ‘you’re welcome’ didn’t emerge from the agent’s mouth.

She started for the door.

“And I’ll let you know if we do indeed find Ray Fox and get to ask him some of those same questions.”

And again the bell tinkled as she left the office, and she started walking briskly toward the centre of the village, to where Jack would be waiting outside Tamara’s shop.

Sarah saw Jack standing a few shops down from Moonstones, just in front of the new bookshop, looking at the titles on display. He glanced at the street as Sarah raced across to meet him.

“Am I late?”

“Think you are right on time. You know, I’ve never read any mysteries like they have in the window here. Interesting, hmm? My line of work and all.”

She laughed. “Based on my experience with you — not nearly as interesting as the real thing, I’m sure. Is Tamara expecting us?”

”Yes — but did you find out anything interesting with your wizarding web skills?”

Sarah told Jack about the big payment from Ray, what the money was for, and her visit to Cecil.

“Really? That doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t add up at all. All that money to prepare for a sale, then no sale?”

“Right. And Jack, you said you were formulating a plan, so how about sharing?”

“I did, didn’t I? And it’s almost there. Just need to see if we can get Tamara on board and then — soon as we’re done with her — I will run it by you, partner.”

“Good. I can hardly wait.”

“Okay then — let’s enter the mystical realm and get this party started …”

They walked up to the entrance to Moonstones, and opened the door.

Tamara was waiting, the lights low in the shop, candles lit everywhere. The air cloyingly thick with incense, the seer dressed in a swirling and ornate turquoise gown.

All Sarah could think — seeing her up close — was
what a character
.

“Jack,” Tamara said warmly.

Be careful there, Mr Brennan,
Sarah thought, smiling to herself. The mystic likes what she sees.

“And you must be Ms Edwards.”

What a fortune-teller.

Tamara reached out and took a hand.

“Sarah.”

Jack looked around. “Tamara, is there a place where we can sit, in private? Sarah and I have a proposition for you.”

Tamara’s eyes narrowed, guarded. All this curse stuff could be a boon for her business. Her mystical warmth had suddenly turned to wariness. “Why, yes, in the back.”

Then, as an after-thought:

“Let me lock the door. So we won’t be disturbed.”

And with that done, Sarah and Jack followed Tamara to a small room at the back of the shop.

Sarah guessed, from the plush red felt covering and its octagonal shape, that this table was probably used for Tarot readings, maybe even séances.

Did Tamara run séances?

Because if they didn’t get some big breaks in this case, they might have to resort to that.

“Okay, tell me what I can do.”

Jack looked at Sarah with a glance that implied they were speaking with one voice.

Though Sarah had no idea what he was about to say.

“You see, Tamara, after our conversation the other day, I got to thinking. That poor couple on Mabb’s Farm. It’s so awful for them. My friend Sarah and I want to do something to help them with their Curse.”

Sarah couldn’t believe that Jack got that line off without a shred of irony.

“Yes. I understand. Still, the dark forces are not so easily dealt with.”

Tamara looked from Jack to Sarah as if she was merely pointing out the obvious. Sarah nodded.

“That’s precisely it. You said there were things that might be done?”

Unbelievable,
Sarah thought.

She couldn’t wait to hear how this would all fit into some kind of plan.

“The Curse, Jack, is ancient. Centuries old. And as you have seen, still alive, still
very
powerful …”

Dramatically, Tamara looked away.

She’s got her act down to a tee,
Sarah thought.
Very slick.

Sarah turned to Jack. How far was she going to push this?

And then, matching drama for drama, he looked down. “The poor couple, we just wish we could help somehow …”

Which is when Tamara turned back and took what Sarah guessed those in the healing arts called a ‘cleansing breath’, and spoke in a low, serious, steady voice.

“There is — perhaps — one thing to be done. There is a rite that can be performed, assuming you have enough gifted ones to form a circle of power.”

“And how many would that be?” Sarah asked, the question sounding far too detailed as soon as she’d said it.

“Seven. The rite is as old as those stones. For where there are curses and evil, there are always the good forces of the spirit world. It is not without risk. It can be dangerous.”

“I’m sure,” Jack said.

Sarah had to wonder: does Tamara really believe that Jack buys all this? Or, in this case, is it all simply a means to an end for the woman?

Which, she assumed, they’d soon get to.

“There are preparations that need be made, and of course the gathering of the others … and—”

Another pause.

“Such a rite, with its attendant risks, those preparations, are not without costs.”

Jack smiled. “We, I mean
I
, will pay. I figure,” and now he looked at Sarah as if to make sure she wouldn’t break character, “We just want to try something, anything to help. Worth a shot, right?”

“Then,” Tamara said, “Yes. Something might be attempted. But I cannot promise anything.”

Could have guessed that,
Sarah thought.

“I understand,” Jack replied, equally serious, “So tonight, we can—”

Tamara quickly shook her head.

“No. Not tonight. Jack, Sarah, you can’t simply do this on any night you choose. There really is only one night.”

They waited to hear what that perfect night might be.

“And that is the last night of the waxing Gibbous moon, the last night before it turns full. Some call it the Devil’s Moon, but it is the Devil and his demons who need fear the power of that moon, that night. Only then, on that night, would our powers be possibly — and I stress
possibly
— strong enough to attempt to end the Curse.”

“And that would be …?”

Again, Sarah noted that she was asking another practical question amid this amazing flow of mumbo-jumbo.

And though she was sure that Tamara had the date of every phase of the moon memorised — an occupational necessity, no doubt — the woman opened a leather book, flipped pages on which Sarah could see notes and assorted lunar crescents.

“Luckily not long from now. Just two nights in fact. And,” she looked up from her astral booking calendar, “that gives us enough time to prepare.”

“Great,” Jack said, sounding as if he’d found a restaurant that had his favourite dish on the menu. “Um, can we attend?”

That made Tamara pause.

“Normally, it is just the circle, the seven. But to observe, to stand away …”

She was probably calculating that she didn’t want to annoy the client footing the bill for the show.

“Yes. That will be all right. As long as you say and do absolutely
nothing
.”

“You got it.” Then he leaned close. “And Tamara, I would like this to remain among us and — what did you call the others?”

“The Gifted Ones.”

“Yes, Just us. We wouldn’t want Caitlin, Charlie spooked any more. Or the villagers, for that matter.

“My lips are sealed, Jack.”

“Good.”

“Meet us at the footpath that leads from the road exactly at sunset. It will be dark when we reach Mabb’s Circle, dark for the ceremony and the Gibbous moon will be rising.”

“If you say so.”

Sarah struggled not to laugh aloud at that.

She broke the moment by extending her hand to the mystic.

“We’ll see you then.”

“Yes. Oh, and as to—”

Jack correctly guessed the end of her sentence. “Right. Just add the costs to my statement for the massage — which was great by the way. I’ll fire off a cheque pronto.”

A big smile from Tamara, and the two of them stood up, and — the whole thing feeling like a weird mix of the unreal and the absurd — walked out of the shop.

“You are
too
much,” Sarah said when they got out. “I thought I was going to crack up.”

He turned to her, his smile broad. “What, not convincing enough?”

She laughed. “I guess it was. Me — it was all I could do not to fall off my chair. So, how about a cup of tea and you tell me the plans for this spell night you set up?”

He shook his head.

“No tea. Don’t want anyone to overhear. Least, not what I’m going to tell you.”

He pointed across to one of the lanes. “That leads up to the cricket pitch, then down to some fields, right?

“Yes.”

“Walk there? And I will talk you through my now fully formulated plan.”

“Super …”

The grass was still wet from the morning dew, and was long overdue for a cut. But such a rich green. This deep green of the grass, the moss — was something Sarah had missed in the greyness of London.

“Tamara will lead her troupe up there,” said Jack. “But I’m also guessing that she and her coven will have a hard time keeping quiet about this most exciting of gigs.”

“You want her to talk?”

“Yes, and her pals. Make sure the word gets out. I’ll do my part, let it slip down at the pub.” A beat. “When Tom’s there, Phil Nailor …”

“Wait a second. We’ve been on that hill. We know what will happen, Charlie will come racing up, shotgun in hand …”