CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Um, hello!” I said, approaching the cat owner cautiously. She was busy sorting through costume rails with another older lady, whose curly grey hair had a faint blue tinge. “I’m not sure if you remember me. . .”

“My dear, dear girl!” she exclaimed, and pulled me into another smothering embrace. “I so hoped I would run into you here. Magda!” she exclaimed, turning to her friend. “This is the young lady that saved my Buttons!”

“My name’s Poppy,” I wheezed, rubbing my squished ribs.

“Poppy! How lovely! And these must be your friends!” She turned her attention to Kip and Ingrid who looked a little stunned.

“Kip and Ingrid. . .” I said, watching in horror as my two best pals were swept into their own bone-crunching cuddle.

“Ungaghgaha!” Kip’s muffled splutters of protest drifted towards me. The woman released them and Kip stood, panting and red-faced, glaring at her with all his might.

“I don’t think we were properly introduced in all the commotion,” she clucked. “I’m Penelope Farthing, but you must call me Penny. Perhaps you’ve visited my little boutique in Brimwell? Penny’s Parlour? We have the largest collection of cat-based collectables in the area.” I noticed Penny’s fluffy pink jumper had an enormous picture of a cat’s face knitted on the front. “Admiring my jumper?” she said with a little twirl. “We carry them in a variety of sizes and colours – for you and your friends I would, of course, offer a ten per cent discount. . .” Kip’s red face was starting to turn a sort of pale green. “I’m doing the costumes for the play,” she explained proudly. And this is my dear friend, Magda, who is playing one of the witches,” Penny continued. “Magda and her husband, Rusty, own the hardware shop.”

“We also sell my handmade jewellery.” Magda beamed, sticking out a wrist on which a very ugly bracelet, that seemed to be made of a load of old bottle caps, was gleaming.

“How . . . lovely,” I managed weakly.

Magda nodded earnestly. “One hundred per cent recycled materials,” she said. “You’d never know this used to be a load of old bottle caps, would you?” We all shook our heads dutifully. “All the proceeds from my latest collection – ‘bin bags’ – will be going towards the town hall fund.” She gestured around at all the hustle and bustle. “It’s so nice to see everyone pitching in to support the play, especially after so many of the cast left after the fire. Well, they always say the Scottish play is a troubled production, don’t they?”

“Do they?” I asked, confused.

“Yes.” Magda nodded. “I’m not surprised that the fire scared off some of the more superstitious members. Anyway, everyone wants the play to do well, and to raise some money to rebuild the town hall.” She looked sad for a moment. “It’s terrible what happened to that building. It was so beautiful, and over two hundred years old. Such a tragic accident.” she finished with a sigh.

“An accident,” I murmured, sensing my opportunity. “Yes. Although it said in the paper that it might not have been an accident, didn’t it?”

Magda frowned. “I’m sure that was just the newspaper trying to make things sound even more dramatic. You know what those journalists are like. I can’t believe that anyone would do such a terrible thing on purpose.” Penny was clucking and shaking her head as well.

“Were you there as well, Magda?” Kip asked. “When it happened, I mean?”

“No I wasn’t, thank goodness!” she exclaimed. “From what Penny says it was a very traumatic experience.”

“Oh, it was terrible, terrible!” Penny shuddered.

“So were you actually inside when the fire started, Penny?” I asked breathlessly.

“Yes, I was.” Penny nodded. “I’d gone in for a rehearsal. I’d taken my little Buttons with me in his carry case because I didn’t want him getting lonely at home by himself. We hadn’t managed to get very far in the rehearsal because Lucas and the director were having a row – AGAIN. Left the room, shouting at each other, they did. Not very professional, if you ask me.” She rolled her eyes before carrying on, “And then the fire alarm started going off. Well, we didn’t think much of it, to be honest, until suddenly the smoke started pouring in. Then those two teachers from the school burst through the doors and started shouting at everyone to get out. Marvellous, they were; such a nice pair.” She smiled mistily and I felt my face pucker like I had eaten a sour lemon. Nice wasn’t quite the word I would use for Miss Susan. Penny’s smile disappeared as she carried on with her story, and tears filled her eyes. “But I couldn’t find the carry case with Buttons in it. It was the most terrible, terrible thing. I was desperate, but the smoke was so thick and someone started pulling me out. I tried to get back in but the firefighter was holding me back. I can’t understand how on earth Buttons got up there on the clock tower. He must have got out of the case somehow. . .” Penny drifted off, a puzzled look on her face before snapping back to attention. “Anyway, thank heavens he did or he would have been burnt to a crisp, and thank heavens for you, too, coming to the rescue!” She beamed at me.

“You said that Lucas and the director were fighting?” Ingrid asked thoughtfully. “Why was that?”

Magda and Penny shared a look. “Oh, you know these ‘big stars’,” Magda said, putting little air quotes around the words with her fingers. “Everything’s a HUGE drama, and to be honest, I don’t think Lucas felt the part he was given was big enough. He’s playing Macduff’s son, so he only has a couple of lines.”

I wanted to ask more questions, but I was interrupted by Derek Dweebles. His green checked suit was even more eye-watering up close and he brought with him the thick smell of cigar smoke.

“Ladies!” he boomed, smirking at Penny and Magda. “You’re looking lovely this evening.” He patted Penny on the arm. “I myself am thoroughly enjoying treading the boards.” He turned his attention to all of us and waggled his eyebrows before making a little bow. “I’m playing the part of King Duncan, you know. Always thought I had a touch of royalty about me!” He honked with laughter then rubbed his hands together. “Hopefully we’ll be able to raise plenty of cash, eh? So good of you all to volunteer for such a worthy cause. In fact, as proprietor of Dweebles’s Cars, Brimwell’s number one dealer in slightly used luxury automobiles, I have decided not only to offer my services as an actor, but to match all the money raised by the performance to rebuild the town hall.” He raised a hand to silence Penny and Magda’s exclamations. “No, no, say no more about it. We must all do our bit, after all,” and he winked before continuing, “Speaking of which, where’s our illustrious director, eh? The show must go on and all that. Time for us to get started.” Without waiting for an answer he had swept through to the great hall and began giving the same speech to another group in there.

“Well,” said Penny, her mouth slightly pursed as we followed Derek Dweebles into the hall. “I must say that was rather unexpected.”

“You’d think he’d be the last to support any effort to rebuild the town hall!” Magda exclaimed and Penny nodded.

“Why’s that?” I asked, puzzled.

“Oh, his car dealership is next door. He’s been wanting to expand for ages, but he couldn’t get planning permission so close to a historic site,” Penny said. “I wonder what’s in it for him? I’ve never known Derek Dweebles do anything out of the goodness of his heart.”

“That’s funny then,” I said quickly. “Was he there too? You know, at the rehearsal when the fire started?”

Penny frowned. “Well, now that you mention it, he was supposed to be there for the rehearsal, but I don’t remember him being there when the fire started. Probably off smoking one of his nasty cigars. . .”

But this insight into the character of Derek Dweebles came to an abrupt end as a thick silence filled the room. Standing in the doorway was a silver haired man in a long black cloak. He had one hand clutched tightly to his chest – and in the other glimmered a long silver dagger, dripping with blood.