Free Cherringham--The Curse of Mabb's Farm by Matthew Costello Page B

that is?”
    “Too true, but in this case, he knew that the property could easily, maybe more profitably, be sold in pieces, as lots. That requires discreet evaluations, for machinery, livestock, subdividing the property, the various buildings — even the furniture. Some surveying and proposed plans drawn up. There is a fee for that.”
    “Rather sizeable one?”
    Cecil — probably sensing he had already let one cat too many out of the bag — retreated. “I’m afraid that is private. Now if you—”
    Sarah made some notes on her pad. Nothing really, but she wanted to have Cecil see her do that and wonder … what is she writing … what is she thinking … and will this somehow affect me?
    “So, you must have been surprised when Ray just upped and left?”
    “Well, naturally because of our conversations I knew he wanted to leave. He was good at running the farm, had built up its value. But he didn’t like it. Or the village, for that matter. But he left, as they say, in media res . And then to leave everything to that Charlie? That I don’t understand at all.”
    “Didn’t make sense to you?”
    “No. I mean, the property had value. Ray just walked away from it? Left it to that stupid — sorry — his brother?”
    “And that payday, would have been … could still be good for you.”
    In the silence that followed Sarah’s question, the minute hand from a massive clock in the office produced the loudest click Sarah had ever heard.
    Then: “Sarah, the matter is closed for me now. And if you have any more questions, I suggest you go and find Ray Fox. He’ll be the one who can answer them — not me.”
    Sarah smiled.
    “I appreciate your help, Cecil.”
    A ‘you’re welcome’ didn’t emerge from the agent’s mouth.
    She started for the door.
    “And I’ll let you know if we do indeed find Ray Fox and get to ask him some of those same questions.”
    And again the bell tinkled as she left the office, and she started walking briskly toward the centre of the village, to where Jack would be waiting outside Tamara’s shop.

13. Plans for a Gibbous Moon
    Sarah saw Jack standing a few shops down from Moonstones, just in front of the new bookshop, looking at the titles on display. He glanced at the street as Sarah raced across to meet him.
    “Am I late?”
    “Think you are right on time. You know, I’ve never read any mysteries like they have in the window here. Interesting, hmm? My line of work and all.”
    She laughed. “Based on my experience with you — not nearly as interesting as the real thing, I’m sure. Is Tamara expecting us?”
    ”Yes — but did you find out anything interesting with your wizarding web skills?”
    Sarah told Jack about the big payment from Ray, what the money was for, and her visit to Cecil.
    “Really? That doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t add up at all. All that money to prepare for a sale, then no sale?”
    “Right. And Jack, you said you were formulating a plan, so how about sharing?”
    “I did, didn’t I? And it’s almost there. Just need to see if we can get Tamara on board and then — soon as we’re done with her — I will run it by you, partner.”
    “Good. I can hardly wait.”
    “Okay then — let’s enter the mystical realm and get this party started …”
    They walked up to the entrance to Moonstones, and opened the door.
    Tamara was waiting, the lights low in the shop, candles lit everywhere. The air cloyingly thick with incense, the seer dressed in a swirling and ornate turquoise gown.
    All Sarah could think — seeing her up close — was what a character .
    “Jack,” Tamara said warmly.
    Be careful there, Mr Brennan, Sarah thought, smiling to herself. The mystic likes what she sees.
    “And you must be Ms Edwards.”
    What a fortune-teller.
    Tamara reached out and took a hand.
    “Sarah.”
    Jack looked around. “Tamara, is there a place where we can sit, in private? Sarah and I have a proposition for you.”
    Tamara’s eyes narrowed, guarded.