Ain't Nothing but a Pound Dog Read online

  Clarissa shook her head, annoyed at his explanation. “Surely you wanted to find that woman to corroborate her story?”

  “Well, of course we did. She remains a person of interest to this day. But Mr Silverwind died of natural causes—”

  “He most definitely did not!” Toby exploded, and DC Plum regarded him slightly more warily.

  “Toby’s right. There was nothing natural about Old Joe’s death,” Clarissa agreed.

  Ed raised his eyebrows. “Toby’s right?” He cleared his throat. “According to the post-mortem, he was an old man who’d had a fall after a stroke.”

  “That’s total nonsense. I know that and Toby knows that. And you know what?” Clarissa paused and tapped Ed on the chest with the edge of her spoon, leaving a small tea stain on the cotton, “I think you know that too. That’s why you’re really here.”

  Ed met her gaze and held it. His face gave nothing away. For a man who couldn’t walk down the side of the house without bumping into a dustbin or overturning a pile of plant pots, he had a certain stoic inscrutability about him. Clarissa admired that, albeit a little begrudgingly.

  She broke the silence. “So you recognised Toby, but you didn’t say anything to me at the police station?”

  “I must admit to being intrigued. You were accusing other people when quite obviously you had your own escapee in custody.” He chuckled and reached for Toby again. “Except that this young man is not at all unhappy in your presence. Are you, boy?”

  Toby gazed up at him. “Not at all. We share a love of ham sammiches and Old Joe. That’s enough for me.”

  Clarissa snorted, and flicked his ear, before turning back to the business of tea-making.

  “After I charged Mr—well, the couple you fingered—for ‘Fraud by False Representation’ I looked back at the information you provided, and I nipped round to your flat. Your housemate told me you hadn’t spent much time there lately. Mainly just to sleep. I didn’t know for sure you would be here; it was just an inkling I had, because of Toby here.” Ed smiled. “I wondered whether there was a link between you and Mr Silverwind. From the outside, the house does still look locked up, so I came around the back to check it hadn’t been broken into. You’re not squatting here, are you?”

  “I suppose I kind of am.” Clarissa pulled a face and handed over Ed’s tea, then wrestled with the wrapping on a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits. They spilled across the counter, a few slipping to the floor. Toby dived straight in, never one to miss an opportunity.

  He managed to grab one before Ed hurriedly scooped up the rest. “Chocolate is bad for dogs.”

  “Spoilsport,” Toby muttered, chewing rapidly so that nobody could take his prize away.

  Ed dumped the soiled biscuits on the kitchen table then retrieved one from the packet. He waved it at Clarissa. “It’s your turn to tell me what you’re doing here in Mr Silverwind’s house with a dog that isn’t actually yours.”

  Clarissa took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how much of this you’re going to believe.”

  “So he was your grandfather?” Ed had listened to Clarissa’s story without comment, but now he nodded slowly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Clarissa offered him the last chocolate biscuit. She’d given him a slightly abridged version of her tale and relationship with Old Joe, and now felt a little guilty for being evasive. She’d left out everything to do with magick and witchcraft and Toby being a talking dog. She figured there was only so much the policeman would accept.

  She’d also had to skate over how she knew about The Pointy Woman. Ed preferred to refer to her as ‘the missing witness’ or ‘person-of-interest’.

  “And you think this mysterious woman might be your Aunt Miranda?” he asked her.

  “Well, maybe. I can’t know for certain because I haven’t seen her since I was eight years old. But the woman—as described by the erm… neighbour—” Clarissa checked with Toby, “sounds just like my recollection of her.”

  Ed reached into the jacket hanging on the chair and pulled out his notebook and pen. “Miranda… what’s the surname?”

  Clarissa gaped at DC Plum in surprise. “Surname?”

  “Yes? I mean is she Page like you? Or Silverwind like your grandfather? Or something else?”

  “Ah—I—mmm.” Clarissa rubbed her forehead as though she had a headache brewing. “Do you know what? I don’t actually know.”

  “You don’t know?” Ed’s face fell.

  “I’m sorry. Like I said, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her and… I never actually bothered to find out.”

  Ed did a double take. “But you know she’s your Aunt? You just don’t know how she’s related to Mr Silverwind or yourself?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “She never wanted anything to do with me.” How had it escaped her mind to ever ask Catesby more about her strange relative? Now she came to think about it, Clarissa had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps this had been entirely the plan. Miranda could have cast a hex that would have prevented Clarissa from making too many enquiries about why she had been taken from her home and sent to school. It would have discouraged her from questioning where her parents had disappeared to. It would also have been particularly adept at halting enquiries about her aunt.

  Indeed, such a spell would not have been too difficult to conjure at all.

  Ed watched her. He would have liked to know what she was thinking.

  “That’s so sad.” He closed his notebook, an abrupt snapping motion. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

  Clarissa’s heart sank at the edge in his voice. He didn’t believe her.

  As he began to put his jacket on, Clarissa reached out and touched his arm, a hesitant movement that caused them both to pause. His eyes, soft and brown like Toby’s, met her grey-green ones. “I promise you I’m telling the truth,” she assured him.

  After a moment he nodded. “You’d be amazed how many times a day I hear that, Ms Page.” His voice had become oddly formal. He patted his pockets and turned away from her, heading for the back door.

  “I thought I saw her today,” Clarissa said, her voice hasty, as though she would prevent him leaving with her words alone. It worked. He halted. “My Aunt I mean. I saw her.”

  Ed turned about, frowning. “Where?”

  “While we were outside the house in Churchill Street. She walked past. Quickly.”

  “You’re sure?” DC Plum checked. “You said, ‘I thought I saw her.”

  “No. I definitely did.” Clarissa went with her gut feeling.

  “That’s interesting.” Ed pulled his notebook out of his pocket once more and quickly scrawled something down. “So she could be a local? After Mr Silverwind was killed, I did ask around the community for help to identify this woman. I asked a few people, your neighbour here included, but they didn’t recognise her. I even showed a face composite rendered with the help of the neighbour.”

  “You did?” Clarissa looked at Toby in excitement, then back up at Ed. “Could we see it?”

  DC Plum shrugged. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” He lay his notebook on the kitchen table and hooked his phone out of his pocket, entered the code to get the screen working and then flicked through to the relevant app and file. “Where is she? Hold on.” He brandished his phone in Clarissa’s direction. “Here she is.”

  Clarissa peered down at the screen. A woman with a thin face, bow lips painted red, a sharp little nose, and well-defined eyebrows, dark hair slightly silver at the temples. Clarissa sucked in her breath and turned the phone to show Toby. Ed watched, a perturbed frown creasing his brow, probably considering Clarissa’s eccentric relationship with the dog.

  Toby took a few steps back. “Yep. That’s her. That’s The Pointy Woman,” he confirmed.

  Clarissa returned the phone to Ed. “That’s my Aunt Miranda.”

  Ed nodded. “If only we had a surname for her.”

  “I can do some digging,” Clarissa said, her face flushed with
shame. “I know her name is vital information, and I appreciate not knowing does make me sound flaky.” She laughed, a nervous titter containing little in the way of humour.

  “Just a little,” Ed smirked, but he easily forgave her. Clarissa, as odd as she undoubtedly was, had her heart in the right place. He liked that.

  Toby growled suddenly, his hackles rising on his neck. “There’s someone out the front.”

  “Who is it now?” Clarissa asked and, hearing the fear in her voice, Ed glanced first from her to Toby.

  “Let me check.” He pulled open the door.

  “Just be careful,” Clarissa urged him, following him out, Toby at her heels.

  “Hello?” A man’s voice called. “Hello? Is there someone there?”

  “Here,” Ed replied. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh good afternoon, Sir. Is this your property?” The voice came closer as its owner travelled up the path along the side of the house.

  “No, not mine.” Ed stood back to allow the newcomer access to the garden. As he moved into view, Toby spotted a familiar uniform of dark trousers and navy jumper over a white shirt.

  “I’m Dave Cooke, the local dog warden. I had a report that the dog that went missing from the Sunshine Valley Pet Sanctuary the other day had been seen at this property.”

  “The dog warden? Now wait a minute—” Clarissa responded, her fear turning to fury. She spun on Ed, her eyes blazing. “I thought you said you’d arrested the people involved in Miss Phoebe’s abduction? What about this chap?”

  Dave glared at her, his lip curled into a sneer and his expression full of malevolence. He might well have turned water to stone.

  “No. I didn’t say that at all.” Ed stole a wary glance at Dave Cooke. “Could you give us a minute, sir?” he asked.

  The dog warden studied Ed for a second, frowning in puzzlement. “Sure.” He cast another filthy look at Clarissa for good measure, before strolling around the corner. Clarissa didn’t need her witch’s insight to understand that while Dave would remain out of sight, he’d still be earwigging.

  Ed dropped his voice. “I don’t have any evidence to link the dog warden or the kennels to a crime just at the moment. You have to give me more time.”

  Clarissa gestured at Toby. “He may not have that luxury.”

  “I don’t!” Toby wailed. “I’m a hound on borrowed time.”

  “What do you mean?” Ed asked Clarissa, frowning at the silver and black dog in front of him, moaning and whining in his direction.

  “I mean it’s a kill shelter. He’s had his six months. That’s why he ran away. He’s in desperate need of a home. If he goes back there—”

  “They’ll kill me!” Toby howled. “I don’t want to die.”

  Ed’s face paled as he listened to Clarissa.

  “You can’t let this ‘dog-warden’ person take him there,” Clarissa urged him.

  “Not under any circumstances,” Toby begged.

  Ed darted a glance at the corner of the house, probably assuming just as Clarissa did, that Dave was listening in. “I don’t have the authority to stop him.”

  Dave stepped back into view, waving a handful of official looking documents. “I have these signed and ready to go. I just need the dog. If you don’t mind?”

  “What if I said I wanted to offer him a home?” Clarissa jumped in front of Toby in a panic, blocking the dog warden’s view of him.

  Yes! Yes! Toby wagged his tail. That would be the perfect solution.

  Except hadn’t she already said she lived in a flat and the landlord didn’t like pets?

  Dave eyed Ed warily, evidently wondering who this interfering man was. “You would have to make a formal application at the kennels when it opens tomorrow afternoon,” he told Clarissa, his gaze heavy and unblinking, his tone devil-may-care. “We would need to carry out a house check and there would be certain other formalities. You do understand that he’s a dangerous dog, don’t you?”

  In return, she narrowed her eyes. “You say you had a report that he was here? Who reported him?”

  Dave smiled. A curiously cold turning-up of the lips that ended in more of a sneer. “I’m afraid that’s information I’m not permitted to divulge.”

  “I’ll bet.” Clarissa’s face flamed bright red with anger.

  Toby moaned again. Like Clarissa, he had a sneaking suspicion about who had reported him.

  “Nothing will happen to the dog until Clarissa turns up to begin a legal adoption process, will it?” Ed butted in.

  “Well, Sir, I can’t guarantee that. He is a dangerous dog. He’s run away once, having been held in the kennels previously for six months. His time is pretty much up as far as I can comprehend.”

  “You misunderstand me, Sir.” Ed pulled out his warrant card and flashed it at the dog warden, who blanched. “DC Plum, Sun Valley Police Station. I insist that nothing will happen to Toby until Ms Page has completed the adoption forms tomorrow. I will take a very dim view on anything untoward happening to this dog before she has seen him again.”

  Dave Cooke sucked air in through his lips.

  “Do I make myself clear?” Ed prompted.

  The warden nodded reluctantly. He understood he’d been stymied. “Yes, Sir.”

  Ed gently stroked Clarissa’s arm. “Let the warden take him. You’ll see him again tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Toby!” Clarissa bent over him to fasten his lead and kiss his head. Letting the dog out of her sight went against every fibre of her being. “I promise I’ll be queueing at the gate at two o’clock.” The warden reached out to take Toby’s lead. “I’ll sort it out. I love you,” she called as he was led away.

  Toby turned at the corner of the house. “I love you too, Clarissa,” he replied.

  His confused little face disappeared behind the waterfall of Clarissa’s tears.

  While Toby spent the night in lonely isolation, in the familiar surroundings of the Sunshine Valley Pet Sanctuary but actually well away from his old pen in the block he had once shared with his friends, Clarissa spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in her own bed in her flat.

  How on earth could she fill in the forms and demand to adopt Toby given that she didn’t have a house and a garden to keep him in? Several times she swung herself out of bed and considered tapping on her flatmate’s door to ask her advice, but Liza would not have been happy to have her beauty sleep interrupted.

  In any case, Clarissa wasn’t entirely sure Liza liked animals at all.

  In addition, Clarissa’s thoughts were haunted by the memory of the photofit composite of The Pointy Woman that Ed had shared with her. There could be no doubt that Pointy Woman and Aunt Miranda were one and the same.

  There were just too many unanswered questions.

  Without answers to at least some of these, Clarissa had concluded she would never know peace again. Tired of the anxiety that coursed through her body—akin to an army of tiresome fire ants that wanted to eat her whole, as she waited for the day to begin—by dawn Clarissa had given up on sleep. After a quick shower she jumped in her car and hit the road.

  She headed north and east, bisecting the main motorway that ran through the west country and rapidly losing herself in a labyrinth of back country lanes. The sun rose higher, the light dappled as it shone through the foliage that arched above her head. Clarissa turned the radio to Jazz FM and tried to remain in the moment as her tyres ate the miles towards her ultimate destination.

  Ravenswood Hall had been purposely built in a forgotten backwater on the Devon and Somerset border. Ringed by dense forest on all sides, the only route directly there meant travelling a solitary winding road. The nearest village shop was four miles away. As a student at Ravenswood, Clarissa had not spent much time outside of the grounds at all.

  Ravenswood Hall had been her entire life for ten years.

  On that very first night, when Catesby had wrapped her in a bear hug and squeezed her so tight she’d thought her back might break, Clarissa had imagined
that she would hate the place. But actually, she never had. That evening she had been shown to a small dormitory where she had slept with five other girls of the same age. In the morning she had woken up and Joseph Bear had been snuggled into her arms.

  That had been the very first hint of magick.

  That very morning she had joined the lower school and started her lessons and by the end of the day, she had realised this was a school like no other. Of course there had been comprehension and algebra, maps of the world and trigonometry, chemistry experiments and history tests… lots of that.

  But there had been oh-so-much-more.

  Alchemy and spellcasting, potion making and herblore, divination and fortune-telling, extra-sensory perception, symbolography and transfiguration. Once she’d joined the upper school, she’d even dipped into clairvoyance and necromancy, but neither of those had appealed to her.

  She considered herself a mediocre witch all the way through school, although her tutors had often praised her. She had friends who went on to do bigger and better things, but all Clarissa had wanted to do was head for University and read English. She loved losing herself in a book, loved words. To Clarissa, words were imbued with all the magick the world needed.

  In the ten years that Clarissa had resided at Ravenswood, Miss Catesby had been her champion. On the morning she had left for University with little more than a suitcase and a handbag (Joseph Bear tucked safely away inside her case, of course), her teacher and mentor had hugged her close, as she often had over the years, and told her she had made the perfect choice for her future.

  “I’ll miss you,” Clarissa had said.

  “You can return at any time. Ravenswood doesn’t stop being your home, just because you leave it.” This had proved to be true. One wing of the magnificent building was given over to visitors, many of whom had previously studied under its roof. They came back for retreats and sabbaticals, or when they were ill, or down on their luck. Each was welcomed. No-one, regardless of the path they had chosen in life, was ever turned away.

  “I’ll phone,” Clarissa had promised.