An Old Witches Tale

by Agnes Lester Brown

  The next morning, the three witches went straight to Mr. Drake’s office after breakfast, their plan ready for implementation.

  “Mr. Drake’s out organizing the memorial for Joe,” his secretary, Monica, said from behind her computer as they entered his office suite. “He said he’ll be in tomorrow morning.” She saw the looks of disappointment on their faces. “I don’t think he’ll be in today, unless it’s urgent and you want me to call him.”

  Fae caught Monica’s hand as she was about to start dialing Mr. Drake’s number. “Don’t worry, Monica, that’s not necessary. We thought we’d bring him a cup of tea, because we know how busy he’s been lately.”

  Monica looked longingly at the cup and saucer Fae was holding.

  “It’s a special type of extremely bitter tea he enjoys having now and again,” Fae said, and fortunately Monica turned up her nose. “But next time, we’ll make sure to make you a cup of normal tea, too. In the meantime, we’ll wait until he returns.”

  “Well, that was a superb waste of time and effort, not to mention five drops of Freeze-me,” Blaise complained as she poured Mr. Drake’s cup into the washbasin of their bedroom.

  “Plus, I have a hair appointment tomorrow morning as well,” Fae said. “I can’t be late for that, so we’ll have to corner him first thing after breakfast.”

  “I think it’s time we investigate how Joe fell into the laundry chute,” Fae said later that afternoon, after the witches had had their midday snooze. “That may give us a clue as to whether he was pushed, or fell down the chute by accident. I know the inside of this building pretty well, and I don’t think there’s an entrance to the old laundry. So let’s take a walk around the back of the building and have a look to see if there’s an entrance there.”

  The three witches made their way outside and circled the building. At one point, they went through an old rickety door in a wooden enclosure that led into an overgrown courtyard.

  “Never thought I’d need to come to this side of Shady Pastures,” Fae said as she looked around. This side of the building was in sharp contrast to the attractive, welcoming front of the retirement home. Here, the wall were peeling and the window frames rusted.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone comes this way,” Blaise said, surveying the enclosure. She pointed to a looming three-story structure overgrown with ivy that bordered once side. “My guess is the basement lies below that old building there. Let’s take a closer look what lies behind those double doors. They may lead into the laundry room.”

  The wooden double doors Blaise referred to were swinging open and shut in the slight breeze. Fae gingerly pushed them open with her cane, and the three entered a dusty, grey-walled room stacked with broken wheelchairs, commodes and walkers.

  “Look at these footprints,” Fae said, looking at a well-trodden path running through the dust to the back of the room. “Someone has been coming here quite regularly.” One distinctive shoe print in the dust drew her attention. It had a bold imprint of the letter B in the center, with a circle around it.

  “This place gives me the creeps. I don’t see any signs of laundry, so let’s go back,” Dinah said, but Fae merely took her hand and dragged her along further towards the doorless opening that led into an adjacent room.

  “This room looks like it had something to do with laundry,” Fae said and walked over to an uncovered hole in the floor. She pushed aside a jumble of laundry carts and baskets obscuring the opening, leaned forward carefully and peered down into the hole.

  “Is this the laundry chute?” Blaise asked behind her.

  “It’s the chute, for sure,” Fae said as she came upright. “There’s light coming from the bottom, probably from the basement. The opening here must’ve once been covered with some sort of door mechanism or cover to prevent someone from falling down there by accident, but it has long disappeared.” She looked around the abandoned room, frowning. “Now, what would Joe be doing in a messy place like this?”

  “Look at these drag marks leading to the edge of the chute. Maybe he was surprised by someone who knocked him out and pushed him down the hole,” Blaise said.

  “Or, he was trying to run and hide from someone,” Dinah ventured, gripping Fae’s hand.

  “Look, there are stairs going up to the next floor behind those old closets,” Blaise said. She looked at Fae. “Maybe the bravest among us should go take a look what’s up there.”

  Fae sighed. “Alright, you two scaredy–cats go wait outside and warn me if someone approaches.” Blaise and Dinah beat a retreat without a second invitation, and moments later, Fae stood by herself in the room, gazing apprehensively up the staircase.

  She tested the first rickety step, and it held her weight well. Someone had clearly been using the staircase, as it was patched with pieces of new-looking wood at several places to prevent it from disintegrating.

  Slowly she made her way up the stairs all the way to the second floor, until she found herself standing in a small, tidy room with a large rug on the floor. A wooden bookcase was filled with novels and volumes of poetry, and beside it stood a writing table and typist’s chair. A comfortable lounge chair placed next to the window had a perfect view of Shady Pastures’ manicured gardens.

  “This looks like someone created a nice little quiet retreat for themselves,” Fae murmured to herself as she glanced through the books and magazines on the writing table. A leather-bound volume labeled “Journal” on the outside drew her attention, but as she was opening it, she heard an urgent whistle downstairs. No doubt it was Blaise, warning her someone was approaching.

  Fae made her way down the stairs and to the outside of the building as fast as her aging legs would allow. She glanced around in the courtyard, hid herself behind a large water tank standing beside the doorway and held her breath.

  She’d hidden just in time. Footsteps approached and then faded as the person entered and disappeared into the building. A few minutes later the footsteps reappeared, and faded away into the distance.

  After standing dead still behind the tank for twenty minutes, Fae’s feet began to ache. She carefully peeked around the tank and saw Dinah beckoning to her from the courtyard doorway. The coast was obviously clear.

  “Did you see who it was?” Fae asked as soon as she reached the other two, who were standing wide-eyed outside the doorway

  “No, we only heard footsteps. We were too scared to look out from our hiding place around the corner,” Blaise said forgetting to ask Fae what she’d seen. “Let’s go back before someone sees us snooping around,” she added, glancing around nervously.

  “I told Mr. Drake you’re bringing him a cup of his special tea,” Monica said as the three witches filed into the director’s office suite the next morning. “He looked a bit confused, but he’s expecting you anyway.”

  Fae smiled sweetly. “Thanks, dear. We brought you a freshly made pot of tea with a few chocolate brownies as well.”

  With Monica munching away at the brownies, Fae and her companions walked into Mr. Drake’s office and closed the door behind them.

  His workspace was the epitome of order and tidiness. Wooden filing cabinets lined the walls, and the few papers on his desk were stacked in neat piles. The paneled walls were lined with framed prizes Shady Pastures had won for best managed senior home in the state.

  “How can I help you ladies?” Mr. Drake asked, eyeing the cup of tea suspiciously from where he sat behind a huge, gleaming oak desk. “I hope you’re not here to bribe me with a cup of tea. You know I can’t hand out special favors to residents without the necessary permission from headquarters.”

  “We wouldn’t dream of doing that,” Blaise said and handed him the cup. “We know the rules, and we stick to them. But we know how much stress you’re under, taking care of Joe’s affairs. So we brought you something to drink to keep up your spirits and replenish your energy levels. By the way, how are preparations for the memorial service coming along?”

  Mr. Drake took the chocolate br
ownie from the teacup saucer and nibbled on it. “Very well, of course,” he said. “I’ve put all the memorial arrangements in place. His son will be attending, as well as his…” He took a gulp from the teacup and swallowed hard. Right away, his eyes glazed over, and his hand with the teacup remained immobile in midair.

  Their eyes fixed on Mr. Drake, the three witches waited with bated breath. Fae waved her hand in front of his face, but it drew no response.

  “I think he’s out for the count,” she whispered, and the three of them hurried into action.

  “Quick, grab the front door key from the key rack over there,” Fae said to Dinah and pointed to several rows of keys hanging on a wooden panel behind the door. “Blaise, you look through the papers on his desk for anything suspicious, and I’ll go through his files. Let’s hurry, we only have three minutes.”

  “There are two front door keys hanging here, so he might not even miss one if we took it,” Dinah said, stuffing a key into her pocket.

  “Fantastic,” Fae said. “Blaise, are you seeing anything unusual?”

  “Quite the family man, old Claptrap,” Blaise said, picking up and looking at a framed photograph of Mr. Drake, his wife, Brenda, and their son, Hank, posing at the entrance of the Fennelmoore zoo. She ran through the piles of documents on his desk and pulled out a file with the name “J. Humberton” in neat capitals on the front. “Looks like Claptrap has been looking at Joe’s file recently,” she said. “Shall we take it with us?”

  “Let’s have a quick peek first and see if there’s anything interesting in there,” Fae said and paged through the file. She pulled out a freshly typed letter, glanced at it, then gasped. “You won’t believe what I’m seeing, girls. Listen to this.” She began reading.

  * * *

  Dear Mr. Humberton,

  We have uncovered certain accounting irregularities that point to your involvement in fraudulent financial activity. As I’m sure you’ll understand, such behavior cannot be tolerated at an institution of high standards such as Shady Pastures. Your service is therefore terminated, with two weeks’ notice.

  Wishing you well,

  Howard Drake

  Director, Shady Pastures

  * * *

  “This means the rumor Myrna heard was true,” Blaise said. “Claptrap was planning to fire Joe, but someone murdered him before he could do so. Who has a motive to do that?”

  “No time for guessing games now,” Fae said as she looked at her watch and signaled for the others to get ready. Mr. Drake was about to wake up.

  Ten seconds later, Mr. Drake blinked several times, put the cup in his hand down and bit into the remainder of the brownie.

  “We were just on our way. It was lovely talking to you,” Fae said as they started making their way to the door.

  “Nice of you to pop in, ladies. Thanks for the tea and brownie,” Mr. Drake said. He started whistling as he resumed his work. The Freeze-me potion had put him in a good mood.

  As soon as they got to their room, the three witches shared high fives, unable to stop sniggering as they celebrated their successful potion escapade in Mr. Drake’s office.

  “That couldn’t have gone any better,” Fae said. “We have a key, and now we know for sure that Claptrap was planning to fire Joe on trumped-up allegations of stealing money.”

  Blaise had her own theory. “I bet he found out Claptrap was pocketing the pudding money. The easiest thing for Claptrap to do was to send Joe on his way and keep stealing.”

  “Nice work, Sherlock, but that’s doesn’t tell us who killed him,” Fae said and glanced at the wall clock. “Anyway, enough with the conspiracy theories. Sooner or later, what happened will come to light. But right now, I’m running late for my hair appointment. I’ll see y’all later.”

  Shady Pastures’ hair dressing salon was almost deserted when Fae entered. The only person inside was Julie, the bubbly young hairdresser who took care of Fae when she needed her hair done. As soon as she saw Fae, she put down the copy of Hollywood magazine she was reading and leapt up.

  “So happy to see ya, Mrs. Whitewood,” Julie said with a smile as she retied her apron and readied a chair for Fae to sit down in. “The usual treatments and style for you?”

  Fae saw that Julie’s coy smile wasn’t only to welcome her. “Well, aren’t you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning?” she said and sat down. “Let me guess. You met a cute boy at a party on Friday night.”

  Julie’s exuberant laughter told Fae she was right. “You know me too well, Mrs. Whitewood. I have to admit, there was a guy who caught my eye, yes. And we did go out on a date yesterday.”

  “More, tell me more,” Fae prodded her with a naughty grin. “I hope he’s classier than that lowlife you sent packing last month.”

  “His name’s Holden Folsom, and he’s a policeman at the station in town,” a blushing Julie said as she began washing Fae’s hair. “After that lazy character I dated the past few months, I’m sticking to stable guys from now on.”

  “A local hero, that’s an excellent choice,” Fae said. “I’m sure he’ll keep you updated on all the latest crime stories from around here.”

  “Not really,” Julie said. “There’s nothing much more than a few drunken brawls and traffic violations for them to follow up on, most of the time. He says his work’s a far cry from the sort of stuff cops do on television.”

  Just then a tall, well-built man with a crew cut and dressed in a police uniform popped his head through the door. He smiled ear to ear when he saw Julie.

  “Hello, baby,” Julie cooed and almost dropped the brush she was holding. “Come inside, let me introduce you. Mrs. Whitewood, this is Holden. Holden, this is my favorite Shady Pastures resident, Fae Whitewood.”

  “Please to meet you, ma’am,” Holden said and tipped his hat.

  “What brings you here?” Julie asked. “I hope none of Shady Pastures’ residents are involved in any crimes.”

  Holden laughed. “No, or shall I say, hopefully not. We just received the autopsy report back, and it looks like Joe Humberton didn’t die a natural death, as was first thought. In fact, he was killed by a blow to the back of his head that caused a brain hemorrhage. Chief is very upset with the doctor for moving the body prematurely, though I can understand it. He didn’t notice anything suspicious. How he got into the room where he was found dead is a far greater mystery. He was moved there after he’d died. How that happened, we don’t know.”

  “Poor Joe, he was such a good man,” Fae said. “Do you have any suspects who may have had reason to murder him?”

  Holden shook his head. “Not yet, but we’ll be interviewing everyone who knew him. No doubt we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  I hope you don’t get to the “bottom” of it, or that’ll be the end of us, Fae thought as she nodded.

  “Well, I just popped in to say a quick hello,” Holden said and gave Julie a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you later, honey. Goodbye, Mrs. Whitewood, nice to meet you. I have to go join the chief. He’s talking to Mr. Drake.”

  “Well, I never,” Fae said after Holden had left. “Imagine, Joe Humberton, murdered. Now who on earth would do something so dastardly?” She hoped Julie might hazard a guess based on rumors she might have heard, but none was forthcoming. All Julie did was gush about her new love interest.

  Fae winked at Julie as she finished up styling Fae’s hair. “He’s a handsome boy, this Holden. He looks like an honest cop. Let’s hope he catches the killer quickly. Be nice to him, okay?”

  Chapter Four

  The three witches were relaxing in Shady Pastures’ garden, having just finished their morning tea. Blaise was about to get up and go inside to fetch another helping of ginger cookies, when a car drove through the entrance and shot up the driveway, disturbing the tranquil ambience.

  “Now, whose spoiled grandson would that be?” Fae asked as she shaded her eyes from the sun and tried to identify the young man behind the steering wheel.

 
“Never seen him here before,” Dinah said as he parked and put the roof up. “Nice car, whoever he is.”

  “Hey, sonny,” Fae called over to him as he walked past. “When are you taking me for a drive in that hot car of yours?” Dinah and Blaise looked at each other and tittered.

  The man stopped, grinned and took off his Ray-Bans. His face was rough, and his calloused hands looked like those of a construction worker. He hardly looked like a guy who belonged behind the steering wheel of a luxury car.

  “Yeah, pretty cool car, right? Just got it yesterday from the dealer. And it’s damn fast, I can tell you.”

  “So, whose grandson are you, boy?” Fae asked.

  “Not anyone living here,” he replied.

  “I see a resemblance,” Fae said as she studied him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you Willie, Joe’s boy?”

  “I’m Willie, yes.” The young man shuffled around uneasily, as if he’d been caught out.

  Fae looked him up and down before continuing. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before. You were here a few days ago, weren’t you?”

  Willie shook his head. He now looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Sorry, no. I’ve never set foot here before in my life.”

  “Anyway, we’re sorry about your father,” Fae said. “We’d gotten to know him well during the six months he worked here. He was a fine human being, gregarious and kind. He went out of his way to be of help to us, and we’ll miss him now that he’s gone.”

  “Your father told us so much about you,” Dinah said. “Why don’t you sit down for a moment?”

  Willie hesitated and then sat down on the edge of a chair.