‘Benedict was so cross, he might not let us back in,’ Minnie said.
They were huddled the following morning behind the fruit and veg stall. The air smelled of citrus and tomatoes, flowers and potatoes. The trader yelled about his bargain onions while the gang spoke in hushed whispers.
‘Tilda will let us in,’ Andrew said confidently. ‘She wants the curse lifted.’
‘Let’s assume,’ Flora said, ‘that the crystal goblets didn’t smash because of the workings of some mysterious force. Let’s assume that a person is responsible.’
Andrew bristled. A cabinet of crystals spontaneously combusted! There was no one around, except for them. Flora wouldn’t recognise a curse if it dropped ectoplasm sandwiches on her head.
She noticed his eye roll.
‘Let’s just assume, for a minute, that’s all,’ she said. ‘If there isn’t a curse, then something made those glasses break. What might it have been?’
‘We looked last night,’ Piotr said. ‘There was nothing there. Just broken glasses and old dust. The cabinet was locked. We’ve no explanation for why they all smashed at the same time.’
‘You think it’s a curse too?’ Sylvie asked.
Piotr’s cheeks blushed pink. ‘I don’t think it’s not a curse. That’s not the same thing.’
Minnie, who had been quiet up until that point, spoke. ‘You’ve got to admit, Flora, it’s all looking a bit cursey right now.’
‘No, it isn’t. We just didn’t find a better explanation. But we will. We should take another look. Maybe it was because we were so jumpy last night, and it was dark; maybe we missed something. A clue?’
Andrew peered around the plastic awning at the edge of the stall. He had a clear view of Meeke and Sons from where he stood. The shop was open, with the shutters up. He could see Tilda inside, wrapping a vase for a customer. There was no sign of Benedict. Andrew waited until the customer left the shop, cradling his purchase, before he said to the others, ‘I think we should go for it.’
He led the way, jangling the bell as he walked in. ‘Hello?’ he said. He could see straight away that the cabinet had been cleared of debris. The shelves were swept of fragments. The candlesticks were inside now.
As they walked in, Tilda called out a tremulous welcome. ‘Andrew! Oh, and Minnie! And everyone!’
‘Hi, Tilda,’ Piotr said. ‘Is it all right if we come in?’
‘Of course it’s all right. Are you OK? Benedict told me about last night. It sounds horrible. Just horrible. What a thing to happen. You know, when I saw the Eye of Ra, I was terrified that I might have imagined it. But now this, it’s even worse! None of you were hurt?’
‘We’re fine,’ Flora said. They joined Tilda near the counter. She looked tired, Andrew thought. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
‘We didn’t do it, you know,’ Minnie said, ‘we didn’t smash the glasses.’
‘Of course not,’ Tilda replied. ‘Oh, you mustn’t mind Benedict. He’s very protective. He cleared up so that I wouldn’t cut myself on the glass. So thoughtful. He’s going to try to be here much more often, he says. He’s coming in later this morning. Every cloud has a silver lining.’
‘Tilda,’ Flora said. ‘Did you watch him clean the cabinet? Did you notice anything? Anything that might explain the smashed crystal?’
‘There was nothing, dear,’ Tilda said. ‘Once the smashed goblets were cleared it was just empty shelves.’
Piotr frowned. ‘And you didn’t discuss calling the police, at all?’
Tilda raised her palms. ‘What on earth would I say to them?’
‘The cat wouldn’t leave a trace for them to find,’ Andrew said. ‘What we need is to shower the place with holy water.’
‘Let’s just consider some less wet solutions first?’ Flora said. She peered at the front of the cupboard, at its shelves, at the base and the legs and the occasional tables on either side, looking at them from every angle. ‘There’s nothing unusual,’ she said finally. ‘We need to think about opportunity. Who’s been near the cabinet in the time between the cat being delivered on Monday morning and Tuesday night when the glasses broke?’ She looked at Tilda for an answer.
‘Well, er, me, and all of you. And Andrew’s mum, of course, for a little bit. Benedict, I suppose. And the customers.’
Flora’s face fell. ‘That’s a lot of people.’
Tilda flushed pink. ‘Well, not really. I didn’t open at all on Tuesday morning. And Mondays are usually a bit slow.’
‘How many customers did you have?’ Piotr asked.
‘Two,’ Tilda whispered.
‘Two?’ Sylvie gasped.
‘They both seemed like such nice people. I can’t imagine they would know anything about what’s been going on here.’
‘The alternative is that we suspect a thousand-year-old dead cat,’ Flora said firmly.
Andrew glanced at the black case which had been put back on the shelf. He still thought the cat did it, no matter what Flora said. All you had to do was look at it to know something wasn’t right. It was sinister, suspicious, and other ‘s’ noises. He would go along with Flora, for now. But at the first sign of a phantom manifestation, he was looking up the pope’s phone number.
He was brought back to the room by the sight of Flora reaching for her notebook. ‘Can you describe the customers? Do you remember?’
Tilda nodded slowly. ‘There was a nice young man who bought a nineteenth-century ewer.’
‘A lady sheep?’ Andrew asked.
‘No, that’s a ewe. A ewer is a jug for holding water.’
‘Oh.’
Flora tried to squish her smile. ‘Do you know his name?’
Tilda shook her head. ‘No, but he said it would look nice in his bed and breakfast. I think he said it was near the stage school.’
‘He should be easy to find,’ Piotr said confidently.
‘There was a woman too, looking for an antique sofa. I didn’t have anything suitable, but she left her name and number in case I find anything she might like soon. I have it here somewhere.’ Tilda rifled around in the piles of rubbish on her desk until she came across a slim white card. ‘Aha! This is it.’
She handed it to Piotr.
Andrew peered over his shoulder. The card had an elegant scrawled font, pretending to be handwriting. It read ‘The Hon. Miranda Fairbanks, Old Wynd House, Old Wynd’. It was as fancy as sparkly pants.
‘Anyone else?’ Minnie asked.
Tilda scrunched her shoulders. ‘That’s it.’
‘At least that makes our job easy,’ Flora said brightly.
‘What job?’ Andrew asked.
‘Interviewing the witnesses.’