“Can you spare a minute to stop by my office? I left your car keys in there.” Harry nods a yes, failing to note that my purse is hanging from my shoulder.
After unlocking the door and waving all three of us inside, I pull out the chairs at my meeting table and gesture for Harry to make herself comfortable. H jumps up onto my desk, his glare promising retribution if I don’t wrap up my chat and get him over to the dining hall for a sausage roll.
I mouth, “Five minutes,” to H, then settle into my guest chair at the table with Harry. As she wraps her hands around her mug and lifts it for a sip, I notice her fingers.
“Oh my, Harry! Your nails! What have you done to yourself? If you were this nervous about loaning the car out, you should have said something. I could have gotten a hire car instead.”
“I wasn’t nervous about the car, you ninny,” Harry reassures me, but her grip tightens around the mug, a deep line creasing her forehead. She stares into her coffee mug for a second before raising her head and looking me dead in the eye. “I’m worried about the college. I think we’ve been cursed.”
I nearly shoot latte out of my nose at her response, and even H stops breathing. I grab around for a napkin to wipe the coffee-induced tears from my eyes.
“Cursed?” I squeak out. “Weird choice of words, Harry. What makes you say that?”
Nothing in Harry’s gaze suggests that this is a laughing matter. “You cannot tell anyone I shared this with you.”
Shaking my head, I rush to assure her, “Of course not. Chatham House rules - what happens in this room, stays in this room.”
Harry nods in approval. “Exactly. Although the murder investigation has rightly captured everyone’s attention, it isn’t the only crime going on.”
“Wait, what?” I look up in confusion. “What other crime? Here at St Margaret?”
Pointing toward her office, Harry explains, “Dr Radcliffe had me pull together a report of recent complaints. That’s what all of those papers and files were on my desk. As far as I can tell, petty crime is up 22% in the last few weeks. Students have complained of jimmied locks and stolen rucksacks. One candleholder is missing from the high table.”
I glance at H, but he is as concerned as I am. “That isn’t good, but a far cry from another major crime investigation. Maybe we’ve got a stolen keycard on the loose?”
“I wish it were that simple, Nat. But the incidents are spread all over the college and we immediately deactivate any lost keycards. It’s almost like we’ve hit a run of bad luck. I can’t find any other way to explain it.”
I laugh nervously as I fumble around for a response. She isn’t far off, but obviously I can’t tell her that. “I’m sure the petty crime will sort itself out. A bad apple somewhere in the bunch; the security team will soon catch them. Look on the bright side, Harry. At least you haven’t lost any other staff members. Or students, as far as I know.”
Harry sets her mug down with a sharp clatter. “That’s the other thing.”
“What other thing?” I steel myself as I wait for the other shoe to drop.
Harry doesn’t respond straight away, instead picking up her spoon and stirring her coffee absentmindedly. I’m ready to prod her when she speaks up. “The search for a replacement chef has stalled out.”
“No good candidates?” I ask.
“No candidates at all, more like it. I can’t explain it, we’ve never had trouble recruiting before. We’re a highly reputable employer with a stellar reputation.”
I nod my head in agreement. I hate to admit it, but I wish my contract was with the college instead of the university. Unlike Harry and Dr Radcliffe, my time at St Margaret is temporary. Soon after the gala, I’ll be off to another college to help with a new event.
While I’m lost in thought, Harry carries on, “And yet we’ve had no one express an interest in taking leadership over our dining and catering facilities. I phoned several chefs who had previously reached out to see if we had an opening and every single one of them said no with no further explanation.”
Harry waves her hands in front of my face, making sure I see every ragged nail. “Look at me, Nat. I’m a right mess. I spend all night tossing and turning wondering what we could have done to have deserved this, then I chew my fingernails off during the daylight hours, worried that the word will leak out to the wider public.”
I sneak another glance at H, my eyebrows raised in a silent question. We can’t let Harry go on worrying that this might somehow be her fault. Eyes wide, H gives a subtle shake, his eyes cautioning me from saying too much. My mind races looking for something, anything to reassure her an end to the problems is within sight. Finally, I land on a temporary solution.
“I ran into Edward yesterday evening. He seemed fairly confident that the police would have the matter wrapped up within the next week or two. I’m sure that as soon as they announce they’ve captured a suspect, life here at St Margaret will quickly return to normal.”
Harry looks at me over the top of her coffee mug. “We don’t have two weeks, Nat. If the police don’t solve the crime with the next couple of days, we’ll have no choice but to cancel the gala.”
❖
Harry’s words keep running through my head long after she leaves. Cancel the gala? We can’t afford to have that happen. The gala is critical to keeping the magic strong here at St Margaret. If it gets any weaker, a few petty crimes will be the least of Harry’s worries.
The sound of H’s talons shredding my paperwork reminds me of my earlier
