Goodly and Grave in a Deadly Case of Murder Read online

  “Excellent,” Lord Grave said softly after a few moments.

  Lucy opened her eyes. Sparks fizzled in the crisp evening air, signalling that magic was afoot. They began to join together, forming a slash, which widened into a hole. Lucy gave a quiet whoop of victory. She’d done it! St Olaf’s Church and graveyard lay on the other side of the opening. Her very first official investigation of magical crime was about to begin.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANGEL EYES

  Lord Grave and Bathsheba climbed through the opening, followed by Lucy. She always found it a strange sensation to grab the rubbery edges of a shortcut as she stepped through to the other side. When the three of them were standing safely in St Olaf’s graveyard, Lucy reversed the shortcut by closing her eyes and this time imagining the opening growing smaller and smaller. Sure enough, when she reopened her eyes, the hole she’d made was shrinking rapidly to a pinpoint. There was a gust of wind, which ruffled Lucy’s hair, followed by a loud sucking noise as the hole sealed itself shut.

  “So what do we do next?”

  “We need to speak to that gentleman over there,” Lord Grave said. The gentleman in question was trimming the grass round the edges of the graveyard. Lord Grave strode over to him.

  “Good evening, my man, are you Mr Brakespear?”

  Mr Brakespear didn’t reply. He was too busy staring goggle-eyed at Bathsheba.

  “That’s a … a …” he gibbered.

  “Panther. Yes. Perfectly tame, I assure you. Could I ask a few questions about what happened here yesterday evening?”

  “But I’ve already spoken to the parish constable!”

  “Yes, of course. But we’re detectives. Different area of expertise. Would you mind explaining again what happened?”

  “C-certainly,” Mr Brakespear replied, continuing to eye Bathsheba warily. “I had a busy day yesterday. I’d buried Mr Shannon and Mrs Munt in the afternoon. So I was down at the Bird in Hand having a quiet pint before going home to bed. Then one of the other regulars came in, said they’d seen light in the graveyard. So I thought I’d better have a look.”

  “Do go on,” said Lord Grave.

  “Someone was standing on Mr Shannon’s grave over there, digging away.” Mr Brakespear pointed to a fresh grave on the other side of the graveyard. “Couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman; they were too far away. I called out to warn ’em off. Soon as they heard my voice whoever it was scarpered. When I went to check I found that Mr Shannon’s grave had a big hole in the soil. But the coffin hadn’t been touched. Reckon I disturbed the thief before they could get to it. It’s quite shook us all up. The vicar’s going to get some more mortsafes in, like that one on Mrs Munt’s grave. There’s a good offer in the Penny—”

  “Most disturbing,” Lord Grave said. “Do you have any thoughts on what might be happening?”

  “Well, have you read the Penny? Sir Absalom—”

  “Ah yes, I’m well versed in Sir Absalom’s crackpot theories. Well, thank you for your help; we won’t keep you any longer. Oh, just a second, there’s a fly on your forehead.” Lord Grave reached out and placed the tip of his right index finger between the gravedigger’s eyebrows. Sparks crackled up the middle of his forehead, over his cap and down to the back of his head. Mr Brakespear’s eyes grew wide and unfocused. After a few seconds, Lord Grave removed his finger. The gravedigger silently turned on his heel and walked off.

  “Why did you do that?” Lucy asked. “And what was it?”

  “I didn’t want him remembering us, just in case. If he mentions anything to the parish constable about detectives making enquiries, it could raise awkward questions. So I tweaked him.”

  “You did what?”

  “Tweaked him.”

  Suddenly Lucy realised what he meant. Lord Grave had tweaked the memories of the children she’d rescued from the clutches of Amethyst Shade to remove all traces of their ordeal from their minds. But until now, she’d never seen a tweak performed. It was most impressive how effortless he made it seem. She suspected it was harder than it looked.

  “Can I learn how to tweak?”

  “Yes, when I think you’re ready. It’s a very delicate skill you know. Multi-purpose too. You can tweak personalities as well as memories, for example. But get it wrong and you’re in dire straits. Now, let’s get on. We need something to hide behind, just in case my instincts are right and our graverobber makes a reappearance.”

  “Look, we could hide behind that,” Lucy said, pointing to a statue of an angel, which stood near Mr Shannon’s grave. The statue was somewhat disturbing to look at. It was green with lichen and had holes where its eyeballs should be. However, the handy thing about the angel was that it stood on a tall, wide plinth, which could screen Lucy and Lord Grave as well as Bathsheba while affording a decent view of Mr Shannon’s grave.

  The sun began to set, accompanied by the twittering of the birds roosting in the trees. As darkness fell, the birds stopped singing one by one until a robin perched on the roof of the church gave the very final chirrup of the day. After that, the sounds of the night began. Bushes rustled with unseen creatures. An owl swooped overhead before diving towards the ground. There was a high-pitched squeak, and the owl arced back into the sky, a struggling mouse clutched in its talons.

  The temperature in the churchyard was rapidly dropping. Lucy shivered a little and thought longingly of the cosy kitchen at Grave Hall. Mrs Crawley often made hot milk for everyone at the end of the day, sweetened with honey from the bees that Vonk the butler looked after.

  “How long do you think we should stay for?” she asked Lord Grave.

  “Until sun-up if need be. Now shush, we need to keep as quiet as possible.”

  A moment later, Lord Grave sneezed loudly.

  “That’s not exactly keeping quiet, is it?” Lucy whispered.

  “I think I’ve caught Bertie’s cold,” Lord Grave said stiffly. “Luckily, I planned ahead.” He took a small bottle from his pocket, which contained a luminous yellow liquid. He unscrewed the top and drank the contents, his whole face and even his moustache twisting in disgust. Seconds later, steam piped out of his ears, wreathing himself, Lucy, Bathsheba and the angel in luminous yellow mist.

  “What is that?” Lucy whispered.

  “A cold remedy. Mrs Crawley gave it to me. You know, I think it’s working!”

  Thankfully, the remedy did indeed seem to work, as there was no more sneezing or coughing from Lord Grave over the course of the next two hours, by which time Lucy was on the brink of screaming with boredom. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear it a moment longer, Lord Grave nudged her.

  “Someone’s coming,” he said in a low voice.

  Lucy peered round the side of the eyeless angel’s plinth. Sure enough, a tall man was approaching, carrying a lantern. It was impossible to see his face properly as he had a scarf wrapped round his nose and mouth and the light from the lantern cast a shadow across his eyes and forehead. He carried a spade.

  “Let’s wait a few moments. See what he does,” Lord Grave whispered.

  They watched as the man reached Mr Shannon’s grave. He set his lantern down and began shovelling grave dirt into the bag he had with him.

  “Oh no!” Lord Grave exclaimed softly.

  “What is it?” Lucy whispered back.

  “The dratted cold remedy’s wearing off. I’m going to … going to …”

  Lucy hesitated, wondering whether she should put her hand over Lord Grave’s nose and mouth. He might think such an action very insubordinate. But before she could decide, his Lordship let rip a violent cough combined with a ferocious sneeze. The cough and the sneeze echoed around the graveyard, waking up the sleeping birds, which chirped and chattered in alarm.

  Lucy held her breath, hoping that by some miracle the man hadn’t heard the commotion. But of course he had and he swiftly picked up the half-filled bag of grave dirt and sprinted off, something falling as he ran.

  As soon as the man was out
of sight, Lucy and Lord Grave leaped out from behind the stone angel. Lord Grave lit the lantern they had brought with them so they could investigate the object the man had dropped.

  “It’s some sort of book,” Lucy said, bending down to pick it up, but before she could do so Lord Grave grabbed her arm.

  “Wait. In this business, Lucy, it’s vital to assume everything is dangerous until you’ve proved otherwise.”

  Lucy could see his point. She had made the disastrous mistake of trusting magical objects before, namely a clockwork raven, which had turned out to be a wicked magician in disguise. “So how do we tell whether it’s safe to touch?”

  Lord Grave took what looked like a fat silver pencil from his pocket. “This is one of Lord Percy’s contraptions. It whistles if it detects harmful magic in an object. It’s Percy’s strongest skill, you know, to—”

  A grating noise interrupted Lord Grave. Bathsheba gave a low growl of warning. Before Lucy could turn to see where the noise was coming from, a great stone fist slammed down on Lord Grave’s head, flattening his top hat and sending him slumping to the ground. The plinth the eyeless angel had stood on moments before was now empty. Its former occupant stepped over Lord Grave’s prone body and lunged at Lucy, growling in a completely un-angelic manner.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE NOT SO PITILESS PREDATOR

  Bathsheba roared ferociously at the angel and leaped at it, her fangs and claws bared, but even these powerful weapons couldn’t damage stone. The angel shook the panther off like an irritating fly before grabbing Lucy by the collar and hauling her up until the two of them were face to face. Those awful empty eyes stared into Lucy’s and the stone lips curled into a snarl. Lucy wriggled and squirmed. The angel’s grip was slowly choking her.

  The angel began clomping heavily through the grass towards the grave that had been disturbed. The robber had returned and was bending down to pick up the book he had dropped.

  “Bathsheba,” Lucy managed to choke out, “attack that man – please attack!”

  The panther seemed to understand Lucy’s command. She hunkered down into a crouch before launching herself at the graverobber, knocking him over. The book he’d retrieved moments before left his grasp again. This time, it flew from his hand and landed in the tangle of a nearby overgrown grave. The man had no chance to run after it: Bathsheba had pinned him to the ground in an instant.

  With the man safely pinioned and the precious clue secure for now, Lucy turned her attention to escaping her stony captor’s clutches. As a first stab at gaining her freedom, Lucy poked the angel in its empty eyehole, but this made no impact whatsoever. Panic swamped Lucy as she struggled and choked in the angel’s grasp. The angel twisted the collar of her jacket so that it dug painfully into her windpipe. If she didn’t escape soon she was going die of strangulation! Anger began to overtake Lucy’s panic and fear. She wasn’t going to let this happen to her.

  “Why are you doing this?” Lucy spluttered out between choking coughs. “You’re supposed to be on … be on … the side of good. Which is my side! Put me down.”

  The angel’s grip on Lucy’s collar loosened. Lucy took in great ragged gulps of air. Her captor stared at her. A dim light glimmered in its eyeholes as though Lucy’s admonishments had sparked life in there. But the light died after a few seconds and the angel’s grip tightened again. Lucy frantically tried to fathom what was happening. Was getting angry with the angel triggering some kind of magic? Although Lucy’s magical abilities were still very new to her and she didn’t understand much about how it all worked, she did know that imagining what you wanted to happen sometimes played a part. Lucy held on to her anger, refusing to let fear take over.

  “You … should be … ashamed of yourself, helping a criminal!” she said between gasps for air.

  Again the angel’s eyes glinted. Again it paused in its efforts to strangle Lucy. Convinced now that her anger was having an effect, Lucy continued to berate her attacker. At the same time, she visualised the angel releasing her and pursuing the graverobber instead. As deeply and vividly as she could, she imagined landing on the soft grass, the ground vibrating as the stone angel pounded towards the graverobber, and his cries as the angel imprisoned him in her stony arms. She held the images in her mind.

  And held them there.

  And held them there.

  The grip on Lucy’s collar loosened, sending her tumbling to the grass. She rolled out of the way of the angel’s feet; it was clumping towards the graverobber now, just as she’d imagined it doing. With the angel suitably distracted, Lucy crawled swiftly over to Lord Grave, who was still lying flat out on the grass. She shook him.

  “Sir, sir, please wake up!”

  But Lord Grave lay frighteningly still. Lucy put her ear against his chest. She could just about make out the comforting whump whump of his heart. She sat back on her heels, shaky with relief that at least Lord Grave wasn’t dead. But now she needed to get help and fast! The best thing to do was to shortcut back to Grave Hall and fetch help. She briefly surveyed the situation. The angel was looming over the graverobber now, and Bathsheba still had him firmly under her paws, so hopefully there was no immediate danger.

  Lucy hurriedly began the process of shortcutting back to Grave Hall, imagining herself in the meeting room where the rest of MAAM would be waiting. But before she’d got very far, a rough but friendly tongue licked the back of her neck.

  “Bathsheba! You’re supposed to be guarding the …” She looked frantically around and saw that the graverobber was now free and on his feet, seeking the book he’d dropped. Even worse, the angel had turned away from and was heading for Lucy again, its face contorted with anger.

  “Go back to him, girl. Get him!” Lucy cried to Bathsheba.

  Bathsheba turned and bounded off towards the man again. But instead of attacking him, she flopped down at his feet and rolled over on her back. The man paused in his search and scratched Bathsheba’s belly as though she was a fluffy kitten and not a potentially lethal panther. He then continued his hunt, leaving Bathsheba sprawled contentedly on the grass.

  Realising Bathsheba was a lost cause, Lucy turned her attention to the angel. It was almost upon her once more, looking as though it had some serious avenging in mind.

  “I thought you’d changed sides!” Lucy yelled in frustration. She gathered all the mental energy she had left and pictured the angel turning round yet again and going after the graverobber. To her joy, after a few seconds, the angel did indeed change direction and began stomping back towards the graverobber, who cried out angrily when he realised what was happening. This time, Lucy didn’t let anything distract her thoughts. She was controlling the angel now and wouldn’t let this man get the better of her! Concentrating harder and harder, she pictured the angel attacking the graverobber. Sure enough, the angel made a swipe at the man, he ducked just in time to narrowly miss a skull-cracking blow from the stone fist. He then decided that discretion was the better part of valour and took off in the opposite direction.

  As Lucy watched him vanish into the night, her concentration wavered. The angel clumped along for a few more steps before coming to a stop. Lucy sagged to the ground in relief. A few moments later, Bathsheba came trotting back over and licked her face.

  “A lot of help you were. You’re supposed to be a pitiless predator not a lap cat!” Lucy said crossly. But she hugged the panther just the same. Then, to Lucy’s very great relief, Lord Grave began to stir. She helped him sit up.

  “What’s that statue doing over there? Did it bash me over the head? I can’t quite remember.”

  Lucy quickly explained what had happened and how she and the graverobber had battled for control of the angel.

  “You animated it?”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means that you made an inanimate object come to life. It’s a very rare skill.”

  Lucy wanted to ask more about animation, but this wasn’t the time. Lord Grave had turned as gre
y as the stone angel. “We should get back to the Hall, sir. You look terrible.”

  Lord Grave ignored her concern. “We need to retrieve that book. It’s an important clue,” he said, his voice beginning to sound worryingly slurred.

  Lucy snatched up the lantern, which luckily hadn’t gone out. “You stay here. I’ll find it. I think I know roughly where it landed.” Lord Grave didn’t argue, much to Lucy’s surprise. That surprise became apprehension when she realised he had dozed off.

  “Stay with him, Bathsheba, I’ll be as quick as I can.” She hurried off, scared that Lord Grave’s injuries were more serious than she’d first thought and that he might die before she found the book and got them all back to Grave Hall.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE SNAKE OUROBOROS

  Lucy’s fears were unfounded, however, and a couple of hours later, she was safely back at Grave Hall and sitting with Lord Percy and Lady Sibyl at the table in the MAAM meeting room. She had managed to retrieve the graverobber’s book after a few minutes of searching and then opened a shortcut back to Grave Hall where Bertie, Lord Percy and Lady Sibyl had been anxiously waiting. They’d helped Lord Grave, who was semi-conscious again, through the shortcut. Mrs Crawley had then carried him up to bed.

  Smell was on the table, padding around and sniffing at the book. Lucy had been surprised to find it was simply a blank notebook. She had been expecting it to contain spells or something of the sort. However, the cover was intriguing. It had been damp and muddy when she found it, but Lady Sibyl had carefully cleaned and dried it and now the tiny jewels embedded in its green leather cover gleamed.