Goodly and Grave in a Deadly Case of Murder

First published in Great Britain by

HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2017

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

HarperCollins Publishers

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Text copyright © Justine Windsor 2017

Illustrations copyright © Becka Moor 2017

All rights reserved.

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2017

Justine Windsor and Becka Moor assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9780008183561

Ebook Edition © ISBN: 9780008183578

Version: 2017-07-04

For Charlie and Nikki

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One: A Grave Affair

Chapter Two: The Coachman and the Stinking Bishop

Chapter Three: Angel Eyes

Chapter Four: The Not so Pitiless Predator

Chapter Five: The Snake Ouroboros

Chapter Six: The Break-In

Chapter Seven: Cockroach Crunch

Chapter Eight: Uncle Ebenezer’s Quill

Chapter Nine: The Emerald Eye

Chapter Ten: A Very Precise Death

Chapter Eleven: A Mouthful of Dust

Chapter Twelve: Golems and Murder

Chapter Thirteen: London Smog

Chapter Fourteen: O’Brien’s Midnight Circus

Chapter Fifteen: A Den of Iniquity

Chapter Sixteen: The Poodle That Barked in the Night

Chapter Seventeen: Lucy Cracks the Case

Chapter Eighteen: The Real Jerome Wormwood

Chapter Nineteen: No Choice

Chapter Twenty: Meeting Mortimer Thorne

Chapter Twenty-One: Stone and Earth

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Pact or Two

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

Books by Justine Windsor

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

The graveyard was silent and deserted. An owl hooted from the great oak tree that grew next to the church. A fox slunk stealthily between the headstones, perhaps hunting for voles or on its way to raid the vicar’s henhouse. When the church gate creaked open, the fox froze and listened intently, sniffing the night air. A man crept into view, carrying a lantern in one hand and a spade in the other. A large bag was slung over his shoulder. The fox trotted silently away, melting into the dark of the moonless night. As for the man, he made his way over to two freshly dug graves. A cage of iron encased one of them and the man cursed softly under his breath when he saw it. But the other grave had no such protection. The man put his bag and his lantern down next to it, plunged his spade into the mound of soil and began to dig.

CHAPTER ONE

A GRAVE AFFAIR

“So this is where it all ’appens, Luce,” Smell the cat said to Lucy Goodly, nodding towards a large wooden door.

Lucy took a deep breath, trying to control her nerves. She was about to attend her first official meeting of Magicians Against the Abuse of Magic, otherwise known as MAAM. It was a big moment for any magician, but an especially big moment for a new magician like Lucy. A month ago she hadn’t even known she was magical.

Lucy turned the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Only opens when you say the password,” Smell advised, gazing at Lucy. He was not the most attractive cat in the world, with his one and a half ears, stumpy tail and single eye.

“You could have said! What is it?”

“’avana.”

The door stayed resolutely shut.

Smell made an impatient noise. “Havana,” he said, putting a rather sarcastic emphasis on the ‘h’. In response, the door swung open to reveal a very grand wood-panelled room with large stained-glass windows.

“Come along, you two! We’re about to start!” said Lord Grave, who was sitting at the head of a vast polished table. He was the leader of MAAM, owner of Grave Hall and Lucy’s employer (Lucy was officially the boot girl at Grave Hall). His panther Bathsheba was snoozing at his feet.

The other members of MAAM were gathered round the table. There was Lord Percy, a sorrowful-looking man with a deeply lined face. Sitting next to him was Lady Sibyl, a tall and elegant woman. Then there were the silver-haired twins, Beguildy Beguildy and Prudence Beguildy. Bertie Grave, Lord Grave’s son, was also at the table. Bertie wasn’t a magician and, in fact, didn’t believe in magic (he thought magic could be explained by science), but he provided what he called “practical input” to MAAM.

Lucy hurriedly pulled out one of the heavy ornate chairs and sat down. Smell jumped on to her lap. There was so much to look at in this fascinating room and, being a very curious girl, Lucy wished there was time for her to explore everything thoroughly. She was especially intrigued by the enormous display cabinet that held numerous strange objects, some of which ticked and vibrated. Lucy guessed they were for magical crime-fighting purposes.

“Shall we begin?” Lord Grave said. “Now, I am sure you want to know why I’ve asked you all here. This is the reason.”

Lord Grave unfolded a newspaper and spread it out in the middle of the table. It was a copy of the Penny Dreadful. Lord Grave always called the Penny a “frightful old rag” but seemed to one of its most avid readers nonetheless.

“So, does anyone want to put forward a guess about what’s behind these activities?” Lord Grave asked.

“It says here,” said Prudence Beguildy, “that Sir Absalom Balderdash is convinced it’s the work of corpse-eating zombies.”

“A ridiculous man,” her brother replied. “If anyone so much as picks a daffodil illegally, Sir Absalom blames it on zombies.”

“Can I have some serious ideas, please?” snapped Lord Grave.

“It’s graverobbers, of course!” Bertie said. His voice was somewhat hoarse as he had a bad cold. “It’s rather unethical, but if medical science is to progress, we have to understand how the human body works.”

“But look,” Lucy said, pointing to one of the paragraphs in the article. “It’s only the grave dirt that’s stolen. Not the bodies.”

“Oh, sorry,” said Bertie, going rather red before sneezing violently into his handkerchief.

“Don’t be sorry, my boy, all theories are welcome. But Lucy is right,” Lord Grave said. “That’s why I think there may be a rogue magician at work. Strangely enough, the Penny’s advice on mortsafes is a good idea. Iron can impede magic.”

“But why would a magician steal grave dirt?” Lucy asked.

“Why would a magician steal grave dirt?” said Beguildy Beguildy, who had been sitting with one elbow on the table, cheek resting on his hand and looking thoroughly bored all through the conversation. “Grave, I thought you said she was bright?”

“Don’t be so mean, B,” Prudence said.

“Quite,” Lord Grave replied. “Lucy is bright as well as magically gifted. That’s why I want her with me to begin an initial investigation into these thefts.”

Lucy turned to Beguildy and flashed him a wide smile. He bared his teeth at her in a silent grimace.

“What you need to know, Lucy, and you, Bertie,” Lord Grave continued, “is that grave dirt taken from freshly dug graves has powerful magical qualities.”

Lucy looked at the article in the Penny again. “Is all this about nefarious deeds and the new moon true?”

Lord Grave nodded. “For once it’s not just the Penny being hysterical. The new moon is strongly associated with dark magic. Now, it seems the graverobber visited St Olaf’s yesterday night, which is just a few villages away from here. The local gravedigger disturbed him before any grave dirt could be stolen. I suggest a surveillance operation.”

“You think it’s worth it, George?” Lady Sibyl said. “I doubt the robber will return.”

“I think he might. Tonight’s the last night of the new moon. There won’t be another for a month and he may not have the time to seek out more newly dug graves to rob. He may chance his arm. And we can look for clues too.” Lord Grave took out his pocket watch. “It’s half past four. Sunset will be in about three hours. Lucy and I will go to St Olaf’s and see if the graverobber makes another attempt. Does that suit you, Lucy?”

“Yes!” Lucy replied, almost leaping out of her seat with enthusiasm. Of course it suited her! She couldn’t wait to get stuck into her first official investigation for MAAM.

“Very well. Meet me in the grounds at half past six. Everyone, make no mention of this case outside these four walls for now.”

Lord Grave then invited the members of MAAM into his drawing room for tea. Unfortunately, Lucy wasn’t invited. To everyone not part of the magical world, Lucy was Lord Grave’s boot girl, and her task was to keep all the shoes at the Hall spick and span. Becky Bone, the housemaid, would serve tea to all the guests, so it would look very odd for Lucy to be among them. Lucy had hoped that becoming part of MAAM might mean the end of her boot girl duties. But Lord Grave thought it best to maintain the pretence for now, especially because there was a reporter from the Penny called Slimeous Osburn, who took a marked interest in goings-on at Grave Hall and was often snooping around. If Osburn got wind of a Grave Hall servant suddenly being treated as a member of the household, he might become suspicious. So Lucy rather reluctantly left the rest of MAAM to it and headed off to the kitchen. As she passed Beguildy Beguildy, he made a rude face at her.

“Beware of the ghosties tonight!” he said, fluttering his hands at either side of his head. “Woo!”

Lucy held her head high and stalked away, but inwardly fantasised about emptying a brimming chamberpot over Beguildy’s head. She smiled to herself as she imagined its stinky contents dripping down his face. As she set off down the stairs towards the kitchen, she sensed someone following her. It was Smell.

“Don’t let that Beguildy get to you, Luce,” he said, flicking his one and a half ears back and forth.

“I won’t. But why is he so horrible to me?”

“Jealous.”

Lucy stopped and looked down at Smell. “Jealous?”

Smell licked his front paw. “Yeah. See, Beguildy Beguildy’s ambitious. Only been a member of MAAM for a few months, but fancies ’imself as a future ’ead. Now ’e thinks Grave’s training you up to take his place one day.”

“Me? That would be incredible,” Lucy said, setting off again. The thought of Beguildy Beguildy being jealous of her because she might one day be head of MAAM was most pleasing and she firmly resolved to ignore any future taunts he might make. And anyway, she had more important things to think about. She was determined to be the one to crack the case of the grave-robbing magician.

CHAPTER TWO

THE COACHMAN AND THE STINKING BISHOP

As Lucy and Smell entered the kitchen, Smell grew silent. This was because Violet Worthington the scullery maid was there. Both Violet and Becky were completely unaware that Lord Grave, his friends and some of his servants were magicians and so any hint of magic had to be carefully hidden from them, especially something as remarkable as a talking cat.

Lucy’s own (non-magical) pet cat Phoebe was curled up under the kitchen table. Smell was terribly taken with her and as soon as he glimpsed her, he scooted over and attempted to touch noses, as cats sometimes do when they meet each other. Sadly, Phoebe was as unimpressed as ever with Smell’s advances and very nearly took his one remaining eye out with her claws.

“Lucy, you’re just in time for a pot of tea!” boomed Mrs Crawley, who was wearing her best flowery apron. Lucy had been rather confused by Mrs Crawley the first time she had met her as the bearded cook-cum-housekeeper was actually a man. But Lucy soon became used to the fact that Lord Grave insisted on the Grave Hall cook being addressed as Mrs regardless of gender or marital status – it was simply the done thing. Lucy was also used to Mrs Crawley’s preference for frocks (They keep the nether regions cool in a hot kitchen! she often said). Lucy herself was unconventional in her clothing choices. Most girls wore dresses and curled their long hair. Lucy preferred to wear a jacket and breeches and wore her hair in a shining black bob.

“Take a seat, Lucy. You too, Violet, you deserve a break,” Mrs Crawley said.

“Thanks, Mrs Crawley.” Violet put down the huge copper pot she was scouring. Caruthers, Violet’s small stuffed woollen frog, peeped out from her apron pocket. Wherever Violet went, Caruthers went too, which was something Becky Bone teased her mercilessly about. Thankfully, Becky was running some errands in Grave Village, which meant everyone could enjoy their cups of tea without having to look at her scowling face.

There was a third person in the kitchen, sitting at the table, a young man Lucy had never seen before. He gave her a friendly wink.

“Hello,” she said uncertainly.

The man pushed his floppy black hair back from his forehead, and gazed at her very intently. Lucy felt herself blushing. The man smiled. “You’re Miss Goodly, I take it? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“This is Mr Stephen Rivers,” Mrs Crawley said.

“Oh, please, everyone just calls me Rivers!”

“He’s Lady Sibyl’s coachman,” Mrs Crawley continued, bringing over the teapot while Violet set out the cups. Thankfully, the tea seemed to be the normal everyday variety. Mrs Crawley was prone to bouts of experimental cooking and had once served Lucy fried-egg-flavour tea.

“Under-coachman, actually,” Rivers corrected. “But the head coachman has come down with a very nasty case of measles along with the rest of Lady Sibyl’s household except for me, so I’m the main man for the moment. I must say I’m rather enjoying being in charge. And I only started working for her Ladyship a couple of months ago!”

As Lady Sibyl’s coach was not an ordinary sort of coach (Lucy had seen it in action once; it was pulled by flying horses), Lucy guessed Rivers must be a magician. But of course she couldn’t mention anything about this in front of Violet.

“Rivers is going to be with us for a few days, Lucy. Poor Lady Sibyl is very worried about catching measles herself so Lord Grave has invited her to stay until the danger is past. Would you like another slice of cake, Rivers?”

“No, thank you, Mrs Crawley. I must get on; the horses need grooming,” Rivers said, getting to his feet. “I’ll see you all later.”

“He’s a lovely man, isn’t he?” Mrs Crawley said when Rivers had left. She stroked her beard thoughtfully. “I was thinking about making him a special welcome dinner. Edible dormouse with fried potatoes and sprouts stuffed with Stinking Bishop.”

“Stuffed with a stinking bishop?” Lucy said in horror, imagining that Mrs Crawley had decided to widen her repertoire to include cannibalistic cookery.

“It’s a type of cheese.” Mrs Crawley chuckled, smoothing her apron. “And I thought I’d follow it with cockroach and cherry stargazey pie for dessert. What do you think?”

“It sounds delicious, but I won’t be here I’m afraid,” Lucy said, trying her best to sound disappointed. “I have to go out with Lord Grave and we might not be back until late.”

“Oh, not to worry. I’ll save you some!” Mrs Crawley beamed.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Lucy said, hoping that she and Lord Grave would be back far too late to eat dinner. And, as it turned out, they very nearly didn’t make it back at all.

At half past six that evening, as arranged, Lucy met Lord Grave out in the grounds of Grave Hall. Because St Olaf’s was a few villages away from Grave Hall, Lucy had expected that they would go in the carriage. However, Lord Grave ushered her to a quiet part of the pristine gardens, Bathsheba loping along by his side. As they picked their way across the grass, a splashing and trumpeting came from the direction of his Lordship’s wildlife park. Lucy had been at the Hall long enough to know that this was the sound of the elephants taking their evening bath in the lake.

“Hold this for a moment please,” Lord Grave said, handing the as yet unlit lantern he was carrying to Lucy. He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small illustrated pamphlet that he passed to Lucy, taking the lantern back off her. The pamphlet was for St Olaf’s Church fete and had a drawing of the church on the front.

“This is St Olaf’s, Lucy. Do you think you can manage it?”

“Manage what?”

“A shortcut, of course.”

As part of her magical training with Lord Grave, Lucy had been practising shortcuts, a method of travelling that very few magicians were able to perform. Lucy had found out by accident that this was something she could do when she’d had to escape from a wicked magician called Amethyst Shade. Now Lord Grave was helping her learn to control this power.

“I think I’ll be able to. Is Bathsheba coming too? Won’t she be in the way a bit?”

“I’d prefer she came with us.” Something in Lord Grave’s tone suggested that he was secretly a little worried about what they might find at St Olaf’s. This made Lucy a little worried too, but she tried not to let nerves ruin her concentration as she thoroughly studied the picture of the church. Then she closed her eyes, fixed the image firmly in her mind and imagined herself there as strongly as she could.

“Excellent,” Lord Grave said softly after a few moments.

Lucy opened her eyes. Sparks fizzled in the crisp evening air, signalling that magic was afoot. They began to join together, forming a slash, which widened into a hole. Lucy gave a quiet whoop of victory. She’d done it! St Olaf’s Church and graveyard lay on the other side of the opening. Her very first official investigation of magical crime was about to begin.

CHAPTER THREE

ANGEL EYES

Lord Grave and Bathsheba climbed through the opening, followed by Lucy. She always found it a strange sensation to grab the rubbery edges of a shortcut as she stepped through to the other side. When the three of them were standing safely in St Olaf’s graveyard, Lucy reversed the shortcut by closing her eyes and this time imagining the opening growing smaller and smaller. Sure enough, when she reopened her eyes, the hole she’d made was shrinking rapidly to a pinpoint. There was a gust of wind, which ruffled Lucy’s hair, followed by a loud sucking noise as the hole sealed itself shut.

“So what do we do next?”

“We need to speak to that gentleman over there,” Lord Grave said. The gentleman in question was trimming the grass round the edges of the graveyard. Lord Grave strode over to him.

“Good evening, my man, are you Mr Brakespear?”

Mr Brakespear didn’t reply. He was too busy staring goggle-eyed at Bathsheba.

“That’s a … a …” he gibbered.

“Panther. Yes. Perfectly tame, I assure you. Could I ask a few questions about what happened here yesterday evening?”

“But I’ve already spoken to the parish constable!”

“Yes, of course. But we’re detectives. Different area of expertise. Would you mind explaining again what happened?”

“C-certainly,” Mr Brakespear replied, continuing to eye Bathsheba warily. “I had a busy day yesterday. I’d buried Mr Shannon and Mrs Munt in the afternoon. So I was down at the Bird in Hand having a quiet pint before going home to bed. Then one of the other regulars came in, said they’d seen light in the graveyard. So I thought I’d better have a look.”

“Do go on,” said Lord Grave.

“Someone was standing on Mr Shannon’s grave over there, digging away.” Mr Brakespear pointed to a fresh grave on the other side of the graveyard. “Couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman; they were too far away. I called out to warn ’em off. Soon as they heard my voice whoever it was scarpered. When I went to check I found that Mr Shannon’s grave had a big hole in the soil. But the coffin hadn’t been touched. Reckon I disturbed the thief before they could get to it. It’s quite shook us all up. The vicar’s going to get some more mortsafes in, like that one on Mrs Munt’s grave. There’s a good offer in the Penny—”

“Most disturbing,” Lord Grave said. “Do you have any thoughts on what might be happening?”

“Well, have you read the Penny? Sir Absalom—”

“Ah yes, I’m well versed in Sir Absalom’s crackpot theories. Well, thank you for your help; we won’t keep you any longer. Oh, just a second, there’s a fly on your forehead.” Lord Grave reached out and placed the tip of his right index finger between the gravedigger’s eyebrows. Sparks crackled up the middle of his forehead, over his cap and down to the back of his head. Mr Brakespear’s eyes grew wide and unfocused. After a few seconds, Lord Grave removed his finger. The gravedigger silently turned on his heel and walked off.

“Why did you do that?” Lucy asked. “And what was it?”

“I didn’t want him remembering us, just in case. If he mentions anything to the parish constable about detectives making enquiries, it could raise awkward questions. So I tweaked him.”