Raven (A Very British Witch Book 4) Page 9
“You’re on.”
Scarlett placed her laptop in her bag and followed Tim outside to his car.
+++
White Hart Pub, Bicester, England
Scarlett followed Tim into the White Hart and took a look around, while he went to get the drinks. She made her way through the deserted pub to a table close to the window, as far away from the bartender as possible. Tim soon appeared, drinks in hand.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip of wine.
“No problem.” Tim leaned in and whispered, “So, what have you found out?”
“Well, I was ‘round at Raven’s earlier, and first of all, I found a wastepaper bin with some flowers and—”
He cut her off. “Is this relevant?”
Scarlett nodded. “But I also found a knife.”
“You found a knife?” The incredulous tone of his whisper urged her to keep her voice down.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Did you take a picture?”
“Lots. But even better than that… ” She unzipped her bag and rooted around in the side pocket. She glanced over her shoulder to see the bartender faced away from them, serving someone at the other end of the bar and laid the plastic-wrapped knife on the table.
Tim was momentarily lost for words. “Is that what I think it is? How did you come by it?”
“I found it lying around in Raven’s flat. On the coffee table.”
“And what, you just picked it up and took it?” Tim looked at her, alarmed.
“No, well not at first. I only did once the police came around. I didn’t want to risk them finding it.”
“Well, I can’t really condone that, but if your objective was to protect Raven, then well done. You did the right thing there.”
Scarlett smiled. “Thanks. I had to think on my feet.” She exhaled through puffed cheeks. “It was a close run thing, I can tell you.”
“Go on then Scarlett, what happened next? I can see you’re dying to tell me.”
She shook her head and playfully slapped his shoulder. “Don’t say it like that.”
He grinned despite his obvious worry. “Sorry.”
“I was walking through the flat, doing the cleaning—”
Tim raised a hand and shook his head. “Hold on. Back up. Why were you cleaning?”
“Oh, it’s a long story.”
“Well start from the beginning, not halfway through. How did you manage to get into the flat to begin with, and why were you cleaning?”
Scarlett began with a bit more enthusiasm. “Okay, right from the beginning, then. I waited outside until a man came down the stairs. I put on my sweetest smile,” she paused to show him, “and asked if he’d let me in.”
Tim laughed. “You’re an evil genius.”
“Then, once I was inside, I had a stroke of luck. The cleaner was in the flat next door, so I waited until she’d come out and—”
“Yes, yes. Go on, how did you manage to persuade her to let you into Raven’s flat?”
“Well, she was clutching her leg, huffing and puffing, you know—looked a bit worn out.”
“So you mugged her and grabbed the keys?”
“No. I told her she looked like she needed a break and offered to do Raven’s flat for her.”
Tim laughed, sharp and loud, and then tried to muffle it in his hand.
“So that’s how I got in.”
“And that’s why you were doing the cleaning? What did you find?”
“First thing I saw was a bunch of flowers in the bin. They were all bent over at the end. Looked like they’d been forced in.”
“Out of anger, you mean?”
“Exactly that, yes.”
Tim looked like he had stepped right into his work persona. “And what about the knife?”
“I found that in the living room, on the coffee table.”
“But you left it?”
“Yes, I didn’t know what to do—so I just took a photo, and then I took these as well.”
She pulled out her phone and began to show Tim what she’d managed to document before the sirens had cut her investigation short.
“Evidence. That’s my girl!”
“Here’s the flowers, and a pic I found of human Raven, and here’s how I found the knife…”
“And what about the cleaner, did she see it?”
“Yes.” She glanced down at the table. “Yes, she did.”
“Did she ask any questions?”
“Well, not really. I told her it looked like jam. Don’t think her eyesight’s all that good.”
Tim contorted his mouth as if fighting off a grin. “Poor woman. What about the police?”
“They just appeared out of nowhere. I turned ‘round to leg it down the stairs and that’s when one saw me.”
“And then what?”
“He marched me back up to the flat, followed me inside, and that’s when I had another stroke of luck.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Another of them appeared at the doorway and they started having their own private conversation, which turned into an argument. So I seized my opportunity.”
“You just reached down and took it?”
“Well, no, I didn’t do that—obviously. No, I just strolled into the room, like I was looking through the window. Then, when I passed by the table I—”
“You let your hand reach down naturally?”
“Not exactly naturally. First, I took out my trusty spare shopping bag and put it over my hand so as not to contaminate the evidence. Then I covertly bent down and wrapped it before I put it into my bag and just as I did, they turned around and started walking through the living room.”
Tim shook his head. “That’s so unlikely it has to be true. You couldn’t make that up could you?”
“Oh, one more thing.”
“What was that?”
“They said they’ll want to ask me more questions.”
“Well, they have to say that as standard, don’t they? That’s nothing to worry about. I still can’t believe you took the knife.”
“I can’t believe the police didn’t see it.”
Tim nodded, as if she’d confirmed an opinion that he’d held for years. “I can.”
Scarlett grinned. “I had no idea.”
Tim fought away his smile and turned serious. “We can’t make any assumptions about them though.”
“Of course not.”
Tim paused for a moment, then sighed. “You have to admit, things are looking rather bleak for Raven.”
Scarlett’s expression turned glum. “I know.”
“Darling, I know you’re fond of her, but you have to admit there’s a strong possibility that she could be guilty. The evidence is stacking right up against her.”
“Well, oh, I don’t know about that,” she said picking at the table edge.
He lowered his voice. “There’s no two ways about it. Darling, you have to face up to the truth sooner or later.”
Scarlett sighed and met his eyes. “I admit that as things stand, it does look like she’s guilty, but if new evidence comes to light, that could change.”
“Well, that’s good enough I suppose.” He looked at her sharply. “Well, you know what you have to do next.”
“What’s that?”
“Darling, you have to hand the knife in.”
Scarlett recoiled. “What?! No! I can’t do that.”
“You have to.”
“But that will implicate me, won’t it?”
He took a breath, seeming to steel himself against her incoming protests. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. You have to hand it in. Or at least—”
“At least what?”
“Put it back. Put it back where you found it, sit tight and let the police do their job.”
Scarlett remained determined. “No. I won’t. Not until it’s been confirmed that this is the murder weapon.”
“And how are they going to do that without the knife.”<
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She frowned at him. “Well, you could take it to the ME.”
Tim shook his head. “No, not this time. You must put it back.”
Scarlett placed her hand on his and looked at him earnestly. “You could if—”
“No.” Tim shook her hand off and got to his feet. She felt abruptly stung. “That move isn’t going to work, not this time. You have to put it back. Goodbye, Scarlett.”
He turned around and stormed out of the pub.
CHAPTER NINE
Late Tuesday Afternoon
White Hart Pub, Bicester, England
The door rattled, footsteps marched across the car park, his car door banged shut and he drove off. Scarlett sat watching his car until it turned the corner and sped off into town, before returning to her half empty glass of wine and taking a deep breath. After taking a sip, she replayed the conversation she’d just had.
To start with, he was right about one thing. All the evidence was pointing towards the fact that Raven was guilty. She considered the way in which she’d asked him to take the knife to the ME and decided to forgive him for refusing her request. It was a big ask after all, and she couldn’t keep relying on her powers of persuasion. It had been only a matter of time before he started to tire of her methods.
It seemed that all the thoughts swirling around in her head were part of a conspiracy to distract her attention from the most pressing matter, which was undoubtedly the knife. Even if she wanted to take it back, it wasn’t going to be easy. No, this was something she’d have to consider carefully. But one thing was for sure though, she wasn’t going to be pressured by Tim.
A chair scraped back and someone stood up. Scarlett swung around, her eyes darting across every corner of the saloon. She caught the bartender’s eye who just grinned and nodded. The pub had appeared completely deserted, but someone must have been hidden away in a booth near the back. Footsteps approached.
Scarlett turned to look through the window as if deep in thought. Before she knew it, someone was standing over her, casting a shadow across the table.
“Penny for them.”
The man’s voice sounded familiar. Although she couldn’t place it exactly, she knew she’d been hearing it a lot as of late and it provoked vivid memories, some good and some bad. It was with a sense of intrigue as much as anything that she slowly turned her head. “Cliff!” she said with surprise as she turned to face him.
“Mind if I take a seat?”
“No, no, not at all.” She flashed him a polite smile.
“You’re looking good today, Scarlett.”
She shrugged, trying to hide the fact that she wasn’t happy with the intrusion.
Cliff leaned in. “I overheard your conversation just now, with Tim,” he told her.
Feeling his breath on her face, Scarlett leaned back and decided to play dumb. “What conversation?”
“Oh, you know,” he pointed at her bag, leaned across further and whispered, “about the knife.”
Scarlett stiffened and she glanced around the bar, searching for a way out.
“Oh, don’t worry.” He smiled. “You can trust me.” His tone suggested that he meant it.
Scarlett stared through the window, buying herself some time to give the matter some thought. Other than standing her up on their date, Cliff had never done anything to make her think she couldn’t trust him. However, there was just something off about him, aside from the fact that he was a blood-sucking vampire in the guise of a man in a pub.
She replayed his last sentence and concluded that she’d never heard him use that sincere tone of voice before. Maybe he could be trusted after all.
“Okay, Cliff. I’m going to trust you. Did you hear the bit where I said I got the knife from Raven’s flat?”
Cliff nodded. “I heard it all.”
Scarlett wondered if some of the color had visibly drained from her cheeks. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Not unless you want me to.”
She didn’t know what to think. “What do you mean?”
“I just wondered if there’s anything I can do to help?”
If a wind blew in at that moment, Scarlett felt sure it would knock her right off her chair. This was only the second time Cliff had offered to help anyone, with anything. He was either up to something, or he’d decided to try and change his ways after his experience with Ronnie. “Can you give me some advice, Cliff?”
“Advice? About what?”
“About Raven.”
“What about her?”
“Do you think she murdered her boyfriend?”
“Well, all the evidence points in that direction. If it went to trial tomorrow, based on what you’ve found out so far, she’d surely go down.”
Scarlett waited for him to continue.
“However, things are not always as clear-cut as they appear to be. There are often rational explanations for things, that no-one could have possibly thought of.”
Scarlett smiled. “You’re right.”
Cliff smiled back at her, like he was happy that he’d managed to raise her spirits. “You need to try and find out more. Trust your instincts. If you believe she’s innocent, you’ll find something to prove it, eventually.”
“Thanks, Cliff.”
“In the meantime, you’ve just got to trust her. If you don’t know the facts, go with what your gut’s telling you. Trust her and see what happens. That’s the only thing you can do.”
She’d always imagined Cliff to be shallow and self-centered, but she’d obviously misjudged him. “Thanks, Cliff. I will.”
“Well,” he stood up, “I must be going. I’ve been here too long already. Hope I’ve been of help.”
“Yes, you have. Thank you very much for all your wise words.”
He smiled. “My pleasure. Any time you need to talk, just call me, okay?”
Scarlett nodded. “Okay.”
+++
Early Tuesday Evening
Slater Residence, Bicester, England
Scarlett had spent the entire walk home churning the day’s events over in her head.
As she made her way up the garden path and reached for her door she considered what might be waiting for her inside.
How well did she know Raven? Truth be told she didn’t know her very well at all. They were practically strangers. If she did confront Raven about the knife, she might get angry at Scarlett for doubting her and turn on her the way cats do when they’re cornered.
Removing her hand from the door handle, she stood on the doorstep looking down the street at the row of houses and parked cars. She might well have just hit on something quite significant that no-one, not even Tim had thought of before. How much of her was feline and how much was human? Had the spell gone beyond her appearance to affect her mind as well?
When cornered, cats arched their backs, their fur puffed up, they hissed and without due care, they pounced. Raven could leave quite a nasty scratch or bite. She opened the door and walked tentatively through the hallway to the foot of the stairs. “Raven?” She called, through her hands, “Raven, are you there?”
“Coming!”
Scarlett put a foot on the bottom stair. “No, no, you stay there. I just want a word with you about something. You in the bedroom?”
“Yes.”
She marched up the stairs, a thousand thoughts swirling around in her head, multiplying to a bursting point as she neared the top.
Raven was standing outside the bedroom door, ears pricked up, like she was genuinely pleased to see her. “I’ve missed you, Scarlett. I was expecting you to be around today. Where did you shoot off to?”
“The White Hart. With Tim.”
“You went to the pub, at this time of day?” Raven twitched her whiskers. “Well, I’m saying nothing.”
“No, no, it was nothing like that. I don’t, you know, have a drinking problem or anything.”
Raven laughed. “I know, sorry. I was just joking with you.”
&nb
sp; She sat on her bed and patted the quilt next to her. As Raven jumped up, Scarlett noticed a gap in the curtains and got to her feet. “It’s dark in here. It’s such a lovely day outside, let's have some light in.”
After returning to the creased area on the edge of the bed, now covered in sunshine, Scarlett looked at her friend gravely.
Raven noticed her change in demeanour. “Blimey. What is it?”
“I have something I need to talk to you about, Raven. Something serious that’s been bothering me for a while now.”
Raven looked concerned. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. It can’t be that bad, surely.”
“No, no, it’s not about me.”
“Not about—oh, its Tabitha isn’t it?”
“No, it has nothing to do with my aunt.”
“Well, who does it have something to do with?”
Scarlett looked through Raven like she was made of glass. “You. It’s about you.”
“Me? What about me?”
“I’m warning you, you might not like it.”
Raven gave her a dismissive look. The expression was distinctly feline. “Don’t go worrying about that. I’ve been through far worse things.”
Scarlett frowned. “Promise me you won’t be angry, and we’ll still be friends after?”
“I promise. Now, what is it you want to tell me?”
“Well, here goes.” Scarlett glanced at the floor and cleared her throat. “I went around to your flat this morning.”
Raven’s tail stood straight up. “You did what, now?”
“I went around to your flat to do some s—”
“Snooping, you can use the word.”
Scarlett shook her head. “Sleuthing.”
Raven glared at her. “Okay, fine. And, what did you find?”
“Many things, such as flowers in the bin—.”
“Gave me an allergic reaction.”
“And, your living room, it’s lovely isn’t it?”
Raven nodded. “Well, I like it. It’s so full of light.”
“I know. And your coffee table.”
Raven laughed. “My coffee table, that worn out old thing. What on Earth is there to like about that?”
“Didn’t say I liked it.”
Raven snapped. “Scarlett, you didn’t sneak into my flat to be critical about my furniture did you?”