Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths by Holly Bell (best love novels of all time txt) 📕

‘I’m sure you won’t. I do admire your work so far on this room. Miss Armstrong-Witworth has been telling me about it. I’m eager to pitch in, as and when. So is Samantha, of course. It’s just that she’s, er ... gone for a “mani-pedi”, I think she said.’

‘I expect she deserves a break after applying herself to her studies,’ Amanda observed diplomatically.

‘Er … yes… well, with some students, the will is there, or rather the aptitude is there, but the motivation needs a little support.’

Amanda looked at him with what she hoped was sympathy.

He smiled in her eyes. ‘I’m hoping that this weekend, I can work a little magic.’

Was he trying to tell her something? There was something quite hypnotic about him. Amanda thought of the expression “falling into a person’s eyes.” It would be so easy … but of course she was far too level-headed … unless …. Was it possible that this was his gift? His more than normal gift? His … magic? Could it be that he was a wi—

‘Tea!’ called Miss Armstrong-Witworth from the hall. And the moment was gone.

Chapter 11

Perran, and Gumption

‘Come in, Inspector,’ Amanda invited him, gesturing over the threshold of 26 Orchard Way. ‘Grandpa’s here, arrived from the ether, and, as requested, alone.’

‘Thank you, Miss Cadabra,’ he said formally, shaking hands with her.

She led him into the sitting-room and there, sure enough, was Perran Cadabra looking as reassuring solid as he could make himself. In fact, so solid that Trelawney instinctively advanced with outstretched hand, before he recollected himself and realised that that would be far outside his comfort zone. He contented himself with a respectful nod and a greeting.

‘Sir, thank you for seeing me.’

The older man grinned and settled himself more comfortably in his favourite armchair. Trelawney sat down in Senara’s usual seat, and as far from Tempest, curled up beside his human on the sofa, as was possible. Amanda’s feline watched, what he regarded as the pantomime of the inspector’s discomfiture, through one slitted citrine eye. Humans, he reflected, were so easily unnerved. It was one of the few things that rendered them entertaining.

‘It’s still Perran, Inspector. I understand respect for the dead and all that, but I like to think we can be on easy terms still.’

‘Er … yes … Perran. Thank you for seeing me.’

‘How can I help you, Inspector?’

‘It’s about the letters. As you know, my remaining task on this case is to track down the sender. In the course of pursuing that enquiry, I need to look at all possible suspects.’

‘Aha. My wife. Yes, I do see. You want to ask, “Do I think she sent them to us and the Cardiubarns herself?” No, that wasn’t the sense I got from her at all that day when ours arrived.’

‘What sense did you get?’

‘I’m not as up with these things as a Cardiubarn or a Flamgoyne but yes, that it was enchanted ink and paper did occur to me. I’ve never seen the like or colour of either. And it … it felt wrong …’

‘Like the source was … bad magic?’

‘Nothing as definite as that, at the time. But so it turned out, and that’s why I don’t believe my Senara could have sent it. She would never have had something sent to me that was harmful. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.’

‘Not even if your contact with it was very brief?’

‘Even if I held it in my hands for only a moment. I know what you think, Inspector, but I know my wife. I know what she was, and I know how she changed herself. And I remember, we were in the same room when she opened hers. I’d swear she was perplexed, even suspicious.’

***

Trelawney saw her name light up the screen on his phone. He took a controlled breath and answered.

‘Miss Cadabra. How may I assist you?’

‘Hello, Inspector. You left so suddenly I didn’t get a chance to tell you. John Bailey-Farrell has written a sort of my-life-so-far. The book release party is on Thursday afternoon at the library. I just thought I’d let you know, in case you’d like to come along.’

‘Much as I’d like to attend, I can’t justify a mid-week jaunt to Sunken Madley. There are too many things to do here in Parhayle. I doubt our missing link will be there or that it would yield any leads. See you on Saturday at the dance class. Yes, I’m still under orders to keep an eye on Ryan. We still don’t know why he’s been keeping you under surveillance.’

‘You could do that at the party,’ Amanda suggested.

He found it a persuasive argument, but maintained his professional resolve. On Tuesday night ‘that Dylan Woon’ had ‘ambushed our Callum’ in the alley behind the Casino ‘on account of him stealin’ ’is girl, ’e said’. Now, according to Callum’s mother, Mrs Jade Couch, who had burst into the station in a fury of indignation ‘’is dad, —‘Cudgel Couch’ — would see right done by ’is son or else.’

‘Else’ referred to the resumption of the feud between the Couches and the Woons. It required careful handling, not least of all because Mrs Couch’s uncle was the newly created Bishop of Penzance.

‘You can do that at the party, Miss Cadabra,’ responded Trelawney. ‘Be my eyes and ears.’

‘That I shall,’ she agreed happily.

‘Ryan’ll be there?

‘Certainly, to support his friend. You know, I don’t have your instinct, but I don’t think Ryan is a bad person.’

‘I agree. My famous intuition — the gene I have to thank the Flamgoynes for, I suppose, — tells me the same thing. But he’s still involved, Miss Cadabra, in something or other shady. That’s the point.’

‘Yes, of course,’ she concurred, and then in an inexplicable afterthought, ‘I’m not going soft on him, you know.’

Mindful of his father’s comments on his relationship with the Cadabras, Thomas replied,

‘It would be none of my business if you were.’

It