“But-don’t you want to question us? I mean, we were here,” said Bibbie. “We saw everything. We were part of it.”
“Someone from the Department will be in contact, I’m sure,” said Dalby.
“But-”
“Never mind, Bibbie,” said Melissande, and patted her arm. “He’s not important enough to interview us.” She gave Mister Dalby from the Department her best regally glittering stare. “And what about Gerald? Mister Dunwoody?”
Blank-faced, Dalby looked at her. “Who?”
“Oh, don’t be stupid,” she sighed. “You know very well who. And if Sir Alec did tell you about us, you know that we know too.”
Mister Dalby smiled. “Sorry, ladies. You’re not important enough to ask about him.” He nodded. “Good day.”
They glared after him as he left. “D’you know,” said Bibbie, “I don’t care if it is illegal. I’m going to find someone to teach me martial thaumaturgy and I’m going to track that man down and then I’m going to-”
“No, you’re not,” said Melissande, suddenly exhausted.
“But-”
She raised a warning finger. “Trust me, Bibbie, you’re really not. Now come on. Let’s get out of here.”
As they stood outside the lab complex, taking a moment to appreciate the fresh air and sunshine, Reg flapped down from a nearby tree.
“Girls,” she said, landing on Melissande’s shoulder. “We have to rescue Gerald. That government stooge Sir Alec is going to make his life hell for this.”
Melissande heaved another sigh. “Yes. I know. Just let me go and fetch my reticule. It’s still in the administration office. I’ll call for a cab while I’m up there, and then we can go and straighten out this mess with Gerald. I’ll meet you outside the door to reception.” She pointed down the left-hand path. “That’s the fastest way.”
“Excuse me?” said Reg, hopping across to Bibbie’s shoulder. “Do I need you to tell me how to find my way? Me, with my bird’s-eye view of everything? No, I don’t think I do, madam. Incidentally, just who was that short streak of misery that turned up earlier? I didn’t like the look of him. Was he unkind to Gerald? I’ll pluck out his bloody eyeballs and wear them for earrings if that bugger was mean to-”
“Now you’re talking, Reg,” said Bibbie, with a wink. “Come on. I’ll tell you all about Mister Dalby while we’re waiting for Mel. Hey-” They started off down the path. “I don’t suppose you know any good martial thaumaturgy…”
So weary she could drop, Melissande defiantly undid the top two buttons of her hideous black Wycliffe blouse then made her way back to the administration block. Reception was deserted. Miss Fisher, sensible woman, must’ve read the writing on the wall. She climbed the stairs, pushed open the door into the office… and saw that the gels, and Pip the office boy, had wisely taken her advice and scarpered.
Either that, or one of Mister Dalby’s associates had stopped by to send them all home.
She took a moment to look around the deserted office. At the horrible grey cubicles and the narrow aisles and the never-ending piles of paperwork. And even though she’d been part of Gerald’s investigation, an important part, even though she and Bibbie and Reg had helped avert not one, but two, major disasters, she was aware of a definite sense of melancholy. Because despite all that, she hadn’t managed to solve the case she came here for in the first place: the Case of the Mystery Biscuit Pilferer.
Oh well. I don’t suppose we can win them all.
She heard a sound, then, coming from Permelia Wycliffe’s office. So someone was still here? As she moved forward to investigate she saw an enormous pile of cartons wearing a skirt walk out of the office-just as her own skirt pocket began to buzz.
What?
She clapped her hand to her side and felt the shape of Bibbie’s thief-detector crystal. Felt its vibrations running through her fingers. She snatched the crystal out of her pocket, stared at it, then looked up.
“Hey! You! You there! Thief! Stop!”
With a startled cry the red-handed pilferer dropped the enormous pile of biscuit boxes.
Melissande gaped. “Miss Petterly? It’s you?”
Miss Petterly went white, then flushed bright red. “What? What’s me? What are you talking about? What are you doing here, Miss Carstairs-Cadwallader-whatever your name is? You’ve been terminated. I heard Miss Wycliffe say so herself.”
Melissande, shaking her head, sauntered across the office floor. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Miss Petterly, how could you?” Reaching the silent, mortified woman, she ran Bibbie’s thief-detecting crystal over the woman from head to toe. The crystal flashed so fast it looked like it might explode.
She shoved it back in her skirt pocket, just to be on the safe side.
“How could I what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Miss Petterly blustered, her hunted gaze darting left and right. “You shouldn’t be in here. You’re not wanted in here. You never belonged here. You were never a true Wycliffe gel.”
Melissande looked at the scattered cartons of biscuits. “Well, no, Miss Petterly,” she said. “I wasn’t. Thank God. And clearly you aren’t either. Not if being a true Wycliffe gel means you’re also a thief.” She shook her head. “You should know, Miss Petterly, that my name is Miss Cadwallader. I’m part of an agency called Witches Inc. We… investigate things, I suppose you could say. We solve mysteries. We uncover crimes. Miss Wycliffe hired us to discover the identity of the Wycliffe Airship Company pilferer. I will say this: I never once suspected you.” Then she sighed. “At least not for long, and not for want of wanting it to be you. You did a very good job of hiding your tracks.”
“Of course I did,” Miss Petterly sneered. “I am an extremely competent woman, Miss Car- Cadwallader.”
She shrugged. “An extremely competent con- woman, I’ll grant you. Permelia didn’t suspect you for a heartbeat.”
Incredibly, Miss Petterly preened herself a little. “Yes, well, Miss Wycliffe trusted me implicitly.”
Horrible cow. “Which was a big mistake, it seems,” she said. “I don’t understand, Miss Petterly. Why would you do this?”
Miss Petterly’s pebbly eyes flushed pink around the rims, then slowly filled with tears. Her chin wobbled, and her lips. She said something, incoherently, her voice clogged with emotion.
“What?” said Melissande. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I said,” Miss Petterly gulped, “she wouldn’t approve my membership of the Baking and Pastry Guild. Permelia. Miss Wycliffe. She said-she said-she said my apple-and-walnut log wasn’t-wasn’t up to snuff. She let that-that ridiculous Eudora Telford join, kept her as a secretary, let her run around with her everywhere, but she wouldn’t let me in. Eudora Telford. That-that- bean. Have you tasted her cooking? Her date scones sink ducks! I’ve seen it! They’re a disgrace. She ought to be had up for cruelty to water fowl!”
That was sadly true. “So, what-you decided to exact revenge by stealing Permelia’s biscuits?”
“Not just biscuits,” said Miss Petterly, with a touch of watery pride. “I took everything. The pencils, the pens and the erasers. And I always had three lumps of sugar in my tea when we’re only supposed to have one.” Her chin wobbled again. “And now I suppose you’re going to arrest me.”
“Actually, I don’t have the power of arrest,” said Melissande. “My job was to tell Miss Wycliffe who the thief was and let her handle it from there. But that could prove to be a bit difficult now.”
“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” said Miss Petterly.
“Yes. You could say that.”
Miss Petterly frowned. “So… what now, Miss Car-Cadwallader?”
Melissande looked around the horrible office. “Now, Miss Petterly, if I were you, I’d take those cartons of biscuits and make myself scarce. I doubt very much if Miss Wycliffe will notice… and all in all-after four endless days in this place-I’d say you earned them. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to call myself a cab.”
And leaving Miss Petterly to stare at her, dumb-founded, she marched into Permelia Wycliffe’s office to use the telephone.
