Beewitched Page 8

  This wasn’t the first time Johnny Jay had pulled a stunt once he had me in lockdown. How many times before I learned? Apparently several. “You don’t get my phone,” I announced obstinately.

  It made me feel slightly better to see how he was trying to control his temper. “I’ll cuff you and leave you cuffed,” he threatened. “Better yet, I’ll get backup in here and physically remove the phone and anything else you might have on you that could be used as a weapon.”

  I handed over my only link to civilization.

  “I want an attorney,” I said again.

  “You haven’t been charged with a crime, so you have no rights.” Johnny picked up my clothes from the table. A bit of panty lace peeked out.

  Time for one final stance. “I have the right to contact Hunter, and I demand an attorney. And those clothes belong to me and I want them back. You’re walking all over my rights as a citizen.”

  Which wouldn’t be the first time.

  Johnny rapped on the door, it swung open, and he and my clothes left the room.

  Silence after that. I kept my back to Johnny’s stupid mirror in case he was on the other side. After a certain amount of time (how much? I didn’t know), a random idea struck me, one born of sheer desperation. Assuming that thinking bad thoughts about Johnny Jay earlier had actually conjured his control-freak presence at the store, why couldn’t the same work to my advantage here? The chief isn’t even the sensitive type, isn’t attuned to what’s happening in the universe, and still he’d appeared right in front of my store.

  I bet witches are really tuned in.

  Not that I necessarily believed in all that hocus-pocus, but what else did I have to do with my time? There was no TV to watch or magazines to read; not even a toilet, which was going to become a problem very soon. Johnny was once again positioning himself to go down for abusing a prisoner. Wait until Patti got hold of this story.

  Anyway, with my brain fired up for action combined with a positive attitude, plus total concentration, I sent out my appeal.

  “Help,” went my telepathic signal. “I’ve been detained at the police station. Get me the hell out of here!” I inserted hell for maximum effect.

  After sending my plea into space over and over until my brain felt fried, I lowered my head on the table in defeat. This crapola didn’t work, not one bit. My suspicions were confirmed. Call it what you want—ESP, clairvoyance, mind reading, whatever—if a bona fide witch couldn’t pick up the signal, who could?

  Just when I was seriously considering banging on the door in utter defeat, preparing to deal with more of Johnny Jay’s gloating, just to have the opportunity to visit the little girl’s room, came the sweet sound of a metal key clinking in the lock, the magical thud of the bolt releasing, the knob turning, the door swinging open slowly, a creak or two, and . . . the unbelievable happened.

  One of the chief’s deputies stepped through the doorway.

  Right behind him, Lucinda Lighthouse walked into the room, holding my clothes and flip-flops.

  “You’re free to go,” the deputy said.

  My jaw slammed open.

  Nine

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Lucinda said, without a bit of friendliness, either fake or real. She tossed me my stuff.

  Unbelievable! What was she doing here and what gave her so much power and authority?

  My gaze shot past her to the open door. No police chief trailing in the ashes of his defeat. Just the witch. Then I recalled Lucinda telling Johnny Jay that she was an attorney. I smiled at the mirror. Johnny Jay wasn’t anywhere in sight out front, either, when the deputy handed me my cell phone. What a coward.

  Neither Lucinda nor I said a single unnecessary word to anyone or to each other until we walked out of the police station and she directed me to get into the coven van. Then, as we pulled away, I had lots of questions.

  “You heard me calling for help?” I had to ask, thinking this appealing-into-space thing really was something I could see myself getting a handle on.

  “Heard you what?” Her eyes were straight ahead as we drove toward downtown Moraine.

  “Uh . . . I mean . . . how did you know where I was?”

  “Aurora told me.”

  “How did she know?” I asked with less skepticism, though a little was still hanging on, clinging to the edge of reason and doubt.

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  Either Aurora was a certified clairvoyant, or—a sudden thought with more potential—she had spotted me getting into Johnny’s squad car and put two and two together. Yes, that had to be it. She must have been somewhere near the store and witnessed our departure.

  I reined in my imagination and settled comfortably in that more reasonable explanation.

  “Thank you for rescuing me,” I told Lucinda with real, heartfelt gratitude. “The chief was going to leave me to rot.” A bit melodramatic, but closer to the truth than not.

  “What did you tell him?” She took her eyes off the road briefly to glance at me.

  Was that wariness in her voice? This could be a tricky question to answer. It was obvious she had figured out why I was at the station, which wasn’t too hard to guess since I’d joined their side the minute my bare toes touched river water. “Not much, really,” I said, staying vague. “I asked for an attorney.”

  Lucinda nodded like I’d done the right thing.

  “What did you say to spring me?” I asked her, letting a little awe into my voice. I loved that Lucinda could outmaneuver Johnny Jay.

  “I educated your ignorant police chief on the letters of the law. After which, I offered to file a harassment complaint.”

  I grinned, wishing I’d been privy to that exchange.

  “I’m sorry about Rosina,” I told her.

  “We all are.”

  I took a good look at Lucinda, still in black garb, even more appropriate now, considering the death of her friend or whatever they had been to each other. In the light of day, while concentrating on her driving (which she did deftly, by the way), the witch didn’t appear nearly as intimidating as she had last night. More business-like, like how Hunter gets when he’s working. It must be tough keeping that many witches in line. I had only a handful of employees and look how I’m managing them? Barely, that’s how. Thank goodness for Carrie Ann and her patience with my other family members coming and going as they please.

  About then, Lucinda shot right past my street and continued toward the bridge that was under construction. We had to stop and wait for oncoming traffic (three vehicles, if you can call that traffic—no big deal) to get first dibs on the one lane still open to the other side.

  “My house is back there,” I informed Lucinda, not too worried that she was kidnapping me since I could get out right now if I wanted to. If things got dicey once we picked up speed, I could always tuck and roll out the car door. Not that I’ve tried it, or wanted to, but I appreciate having options, albeit undesirable ones.

  “I know where you live,” Lucinda answered, “but since I did you a favor, I’d like to ask one in return.”

  Ah . . . a catch. Okay, though, anything (or almost anything) for the woman who pulled one over on Johnny Jay and rescued me from his clutches. I had plenty to offer her. Freebies from the store for the next ceremony? A lifetime of honey for their ritual crescent cakes? More garlic in case vampires came messing around?

  But I was pretty sure she had her own idea of how I could repay her.

  Now it was our turn to cross the bridge.

  I saw Lori Spandle off to the side, talking to one of the hard hats, a young guy with a body to die for. The creepy real estate agent had her hands all over him, her tongue practically hanging out, the woman’s fat little round face flushed with excitement.

  In her fantasies.

  What hot young stud wanted that has-been?


  I tried to get a picture of them with my cell phone but didn’t react fast enough. Rats!

  “Where are we going?” I asked next, hoping it wasn’t someplace isolated and witness free. My confidence threatened to jump out the window, leaving me alone in the passenger seat. I pulled it back. But believe me, I was perfectly aware that I was riding next to a woman who might possibly have one of her coven member’s blood on her hands. If anyone was the main suspect, it was the woman sitting next to me.

  It’s amazing how fast one can replace gratitude with suspicion. In my mind’s eye, I could see Lucinda plunging that knife into Rosina. Had I considered that she might have a weapon this very moment? After a fast glance around the front of the van, I didn’t spot one. And she wouldn’t have dared enter the station armed.

  “To Country Delight Farm,” came the reply.

  Whew.

  We sped along on Creamery Road, then slowed to enter the driveway leading to the farm. A sign out by the road announced the opening of the corn maze this coming Friday, which I realized was tomorrow. A wagon filled with pumpkins, gourds, Indian corn, and winter squash enticed passersby to stop and browse the barn with all its fall treats and decorative items. And while they were at it, they could go into a big fenced area and pet and feed the farm animals.

  Al has a menagerie of animals for his visitors’ enjoyment:

  pygmy goats

  a Tom turkey and a flock of hens and young ones

  a pink potbellied pig named Ms. Piggy

  two white geese who honked their heads off

  a miniature donkey named Dusty

  one struttin’ peacock called Pretty

  Instead of turning left toward the barnyard and the entry to Al’s corn maze, though, we veered to the right and drove down a grassy lane next to the apple orchard until we came to the witchy guests’ campground.

  Three enormous canvas tents and a cluster of smaller ones encircled a fire pit not that much different than the one they’d danced around last night. The witches were crowded around a picnic bench and watched as I got out of the van. A familiar face would have been a welcoming sight, but Dy and Aurora weren’t with them. I felt like I’d just entered enemy territory without a squad of Marines to back me up.

  Instead of joining the others, Lucinda led me to one of the large tents and ducked in. Just to be on the safe side, I silently threw another bit of information up to the universe. “I’m going into Lucinda Lighthouse’s tent. Should I go inside or run the other way?”

  “What are you waiting for?” Lucinda called out.

  An answer to my question didn’t present itself, so I ducked through the flap and found myself inside a room at least the size of my bedroom. And furnished just as well (or nearly). These women knew something about outdoor living in comfort. If the world as we know it ever ended, they would be the survivors.

  “Sit down,” Lucinda said, taking one of two chairs at a small square table.

  I sat, wondering where Rosina had met her maker. Hunter already told me it had happened at the farm. But was it here, in the coven’s campground? In one of the tents?

  “About this favor,” I began with some nervous chatter. “I sure do owe you one, no question about that.” I gave her some suggestions, the ones I’d thought about on the way over—honey, garlic, whatever.

  When I ran out of ideas, Lucinda said, “The local authorities are forcing us to stay here longer than we had anticipated. Until they are satisfied that none of us were involved in Rosina’s tragic death, we can’t go home, and that is inconvenient at best.”

  “I’m so sorry about your troubles and about Rosina,” I said again.

  “Nothing could be worse,” she agreed. “Tabitha found her in the corn maze, you know, and it was a horribly shocking experience for the young woman.”

  Tabitha! Which witch was she?

  So Rosina had been killed in the corn maze, stabbed with a jagged-edged knife. Yikes. Lucinda continued, “The lead investigator wants the actual scene of her murder to remain confidential information.” She studied me intensely before continuing, “If word got out that it happened in the corn maze, Al’s financial future could be at stake.”

  Stake? The burning kind popped into my head. “You mean he’d lose customers if they found out the maze was the scene of a murder.” That would not be good for any of us. What hurt one local business impacted all.

  “Families come to play in the maze. A situation like this could significantly harm his business. Or, since Halloween is right around the corner, it might bring out the worst kind of imitators.”

  That was a nasty thought. “Copycats.”

  Lucinda nodded. “It’s important that Rosina’s murder is solved as quickly as possible for many reasons. Detective Wallace hopes to wrap this up quickly, but who knows if he actually will.”

  So the witches didn’t know about my relationship with Hunter. That was good to know. Lucinda went on, “We intend to invoke the presence of the high priestess, who will give us the name of the person Rosina went to meet right before her death, the one who did this awful thing.”

  “Uh, um, okay,” I said, because I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to alienate Lucinda with a snide remark or by laughing out loud. Instead I just had to ask, since the question had been on my mind since Dy’s first wand sighting, “Are you Wiccans?”

  Lucinda snorted derisively. “Wicca is a religion like any other. We believe in a higher power, but we leave religion to the insecure.”

  Okay then. By higher power did she mean God? Or the devil? Or was there some deity in between, in the gray zone? This time I was afraid to ask.

  “How did you know Rosina was meeting someone?” I asked instead.

  “She told Tabitha, her tent mate, but Tabitha didn’t think to ask her for a name, and Rosina didn’t offer one. When she didn’t come back, Tabitha went to find her and discovered her body.”

  “But this priestess knows who did it?”

  “That’s where you come in,” Lucinda said. “We need you in the circle.”

  What?

  Turned out, the gist was that they needed a thirteenth member, since one of the original twelve (not counting Aurora) had been stabbed to death. In the corn maze with a big knife, I might add. Not exactly a tempting offer. My flight instinct revved up.

  “What happened to the original number thirteen?” I needed to know. If she’d been murdered, too, I was so out of here.

  “Retired to Florida,” was the response, which was unexpected and refreshingly innocuous. “Well?”

  “Have you tried reaching out to Lori Spandle?” I suggested, feeling much less guilty throwing her just about anywhere—under a bus, over a cliff, into the rapids of a river. “She’s been a witch her entire life.”

  “You,” Lucinda said, shaking her head. “It has to be you. You already have some experience from last night.”

  Did I have a choice? What if Lucinda actually cast a spell and forced me to do it? Not that I believed in that (I kept telling myself). On the other hand, as she’d indicated, I did owe her for springing me from Johnny Jay’s trap. And since there was no such thing as a high priestess that could be invoked at Lucinda’s whim, nothing was going to come of this anyway. Right?

  I weighed the risks.

  The very least that could happen would be another strip-down around a campfire, which wouldn’t be the end of the world. And even if Johnny Jay crashed the party again, he already knew he couldn’t arrest us. Lucinda would see to that.

  “Where is the ritual knife you used last night during your ceremony?” I asked her.

  “The police have it,” she said.

  Ah, good, that was one wicked knife out of circulation.

  I couldn’t rule out the idea that Lucinda had ulterior motives for inviting me, but impulsively, I decided that I’d deal with that by
staying close to the group and keeping my eyes open for trouble. I wouldn’t trot off for any clandestine meetings in the corn maze. Plus, I’d make certain Hunter knew exactly where I was. Heck, he might even agree to back me up in some way.

  At the moment, Lucinda and the others didn’t know about my relationship with the lead investigator, and I intended to keep it that way. They wouldn’t suspect that I was working for the other side. Yes, it would be the perfect opportunity to do a little investigating, maybe figure out which witch did what.

  “When?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow night,” came the reply. She bent down over a plastic bin and hauled out a black cape. “Here,” she said, thrusting it at me. “Wear this when you come.”

  She didn’t have to mention not to wear any undergarments. That part I’d figured out.

  “But the corn maze opens tomorrow,” I told her. “That won’t work.”

  “That won’t interfere with our plan. It closes before dark.”

  She thought I was worried about her, but my concern was more for Al Mason. He would have a fit if he heard about this. “What’s wrong with tonight?”

  “It’s going to start raining soon.”

  Ha! There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. But why should I care, I reasoned. That gave me one more day to get my act in order. With any luck, Hunter would have a suspect in custody before then and the witches could get the heck out of town before I had to do anything.

  I grinned. I’d successfully infiltrated the enemy camp. Hunter was going to be so proud.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

  Ten

  After Lucinda drove me back to town, I paused before entering the store. My gaze fell on the old cemetery beside The Wild Clover. The building that housed my store had once been a Lutheran church, until the congregation grew and the church needed to expand. Lots of local Lutherans had been buried in this graveyard, but it had filled up long before my time, and a new one had been built on the outskirts of town close to the new church. The stones here were weathered, many of the names faded with age and almost indecipherable.