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

but to make some sort of peace with her that guarantees the safety of the village.

‘Please don’t ask me, Amanda,’ Jonathan beseeched her agitatedly.

‘Of course not, Jonathan,’ she soothed him. ‘There may be another way. The police have all sorts of perfectly normal avenues to pursue, for the most pressing matter of finding if a human was responsible for Samantha’s death. Nevertheless … as a last resort …’ she pondered, then added on a postive note ‘But let us hope that it does not come to that.’

Chapter 25

Confidential Informant

Trelawney had barely arrived back at Parhayle police station, when a text came through.

Inspector, just landed. Thank you for getting the news to me. Can see you as soon as you like. Do feel free to bring Amanda. She was so helpful on the last case. Damian Gibbs

***

‘I don’t know,’ said Thomas restively to his best friend, Mike, as they sat in the warmth of Hogarth’s Cornish cottage sitting-room. ‘This text … Miss Cadabra must be the least sociable person in the entire village. Locks herself away in that sorcerer’s den of hers she calls her workshop. Only emerges to get food for herself and that deeply unpleasant animal, and to go to clients. And yet everyone seems to think the sun shines out her eyes.’

Hogarth grinned appreciatively.

‘Bothers you, does it?’

Trelawney had to laugh. ‘All right, all right. You did say the Cadabras would get under my skin. I know that Miss Cadabra is … her neighbours have every reason to be … fond of her. It’s just that I don’t like people think— I don’t like feeling as though I can’t do my job without her!’

‘Of course, you can, lad. No one, including your father, has any doubt whatsoever regarding your capabilities. It’s just that, at times, Amanda can facilitate matters. Oil the wheels. And you know, Thomas, a good policeman accepts help that comes his way, the lucky breaks. It is good judgement. It is generosity of spirit.’

‘Hm. Really? I suppose … Like someone on the inside, a confidential informant.’

‘Just so. Speaking of which. You meet with the person tomorrow morning, don’t you? Your “well-wisher”?’

‘Yes, it should be … interesting.’

***

Trelawney arrived at the Cosy Coast Café ten minutes early, took a corner seat with an eye line to the door, ordered tea and waited. He checked his watch: 9.55am.

Just two minutes before the hour, he abruptly ducked. Dash it! Gran Flossie was coming in. He pretended to be tying his shoe. She was heading for the counter now. Hoping, while her back was turned, that he could slip out the back way or at least into the gents, Trelawney prepared to make a dash.

But she headed straight for his table.

‘Awright there, Tom, me ’andsome, having trouble with your laces?’

He sat up. ‘Hello, Gran.’

‘You’re wearing loafers, slip-ons, love.’

‘Sorry Gran, it’s just that I’m meeting —’

‘Me.’

‘Sorry?

‘You’re meeting me. I sent the letter.’

‘Oh? Why?’

‘I’ve got information as I don’t want the rest of the family to know. Even a wife, mum, grandmum and fisherwoman is entitled to her privacy.’

‘Of course.’

‘Now let me just get my cuppa, Tom, and I’ll be with you dreckly.’

‘Let me, Gran.’

‘No, no, you sit there, me luvver. Be right back.’

Trelawney composed himself, while Flossie went to the counter, ordered and collected her tea and returned to the table. She took her time making herself comfortable and adding her two sugars. He waited until he saw signs that Flossie was ready, looking up, resting her muscular forearms on the table.

‘So …?’ Thomas invited her.

‘Yes, I did see his, car, that Hedrok Flamgoyne’s.’

‘What’s wrong with that? I mean, why would that be private information, Gran?’

She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. ‘It was how I came to see it!’

‘Ah,’ responded Thomas to this, as yet unexplained significance.

‘You see, Tom, I was with someone that day.’ She paused so portentously that his mind leapt to a conclusion and reeled.

‘Gran, surely you weren’t having an aff—?’

‘Don’t be so soft in the ’ead!’ Flossie reproved him. ‘No. I was on a mission.’

‘Right.’

‘Your great-uncle, Wella. It’s a long time ago, and water under the bridge and no one needs to know about this, you understand? I’m a … C.I., right?’

‘Confidential Informant?’ he checked.

‘That’s it. Do we have an understanding, Tom?’ Flossie asked firmly.

Those were clearly her terms. ‘Yes, Gran. Please fire away.’

Flossie stirred her tea.

‘It’s a family skeleton.’

‘I see.’ Thomas had yet to, but was confident that a hitherto hidden cupboard was about to be opened to him.

‘Wella, he was going through some sort of midlife crisis,’ explained Flossie, ‘got in with the wrong crowd. A flash lot. Then one day, he asks me to meet him here in town ‘cause he was needin’ my help. The silly chump had only been in the casino – you know, The Parhayle Palace — and kept losin’, of course. They wanted him to pay up and he couldn’t.’

‘I had no idea,’ marvelled Thomas.

‘Well, he’d kept it secret. He was that scared his family would find out and think him the fool he was. It’s one thing to get mixed up in that sort of thing when you a teenager, but when you’re 50, people expect you know better.’

‘I understand. So, you helped Great-uncle Wella?’

‘I’d got a bit of income from my artwork. I kept it up. Your granddad made me promise I would when we got married. It wasn’t a fortune Wella owed, but quite a bit back then and more than he could pay. So I said I’d settle his debts, on one condition.’

‘Which was?’

‘He got help, counsellin’. There and then. Twice a week for as long as it took.’

‘And did he?’ asked Thomas.

‘He wasn’t keen. Said he was a man and could beat it by himself, but I stood firm. I got on the phone to my friend, whose daughter is a counsellor at Dr Martin’s. She moved an appointment special so she could see Wella right away, and I went to the clinic with ’im.