by Jane Tesh
“It’s at the confusing stage. I still have a lot of things to figure out.”
Austin had finished one biscuit and was halfway through another. “I heard you found the witch’s cottage in the woods, just like in Hansel and Gretel, only it wasn’t made of gingerbread.”
Jerry set two glasses of milk on the table and sat down. “It was actually made of cottage cheese.”
Austin groaned. “That is so lame.”
“It wasn’t a cottage,” I said. “And it’s really not nice to call Ms. Underwood a witch. She was camping out in one of the old teepees on the other side of the lake. Mr. Fenton asked her to find another place.”
“Doesn’t she have a home?” Denisha asked.
“I don’t think so, but she seems to enjoy camping. She was brought up in a commune. You know what that is?”
“Like a community center?”
“Sort of. A group of people decide to form their own community, very much like a farm. Everyone helps grow the food and tend the animals.”
“So Ms. Underwood doesn’t mind being outside all the time?”
“She enjoys being around nature.”
This explanation satisfied Denisha, but Austin wasn’t convinced. “Then how come she carries around that big old stick with a dragon’s head on it? That’s the kind of thing wizards and witches have.”
“Maybe she likes dragons,” Denisha said. “I like them.”
“I still think she’s a witch.”
“My aunt says there used to be some people around here acting like they was witches until the police told them to stop.”
The Darkrose Coven. “What else did she say, Denisha?”
She took a bite of her biscuit and set it down. “People shouldn’t mess with stuff like that. God doesn’t like it. That’s what my aunt says.”
“Has she heard about anyone doing it now?”
“No, but she knew that Levin boy’s family, the one that was found in the vineyard? She said it’s sad, but when you play with fire, you get burned. Only he didn’t get burned, actually. It’s just an expression.”
“Did the police come talk to your aunt?”
“Yes, and she told them the Levin boy was wild and it was a shame the way all these girls went around batting their eyes at him. Said he should’ve stayed in Copeley, and then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten killed.”
“Does your aunt have any idea who might have been angry enough to kill him?”
Denisha wiped her hands on her napkin. “No, but she did say something about scorched women and a word I’m not supposed to say, but it starts with ‘h.’”
“Hell!” Austin said enthusiastically.
She turned on him. “Austin Terrell, you are not supposed to say that word, either.”
“Your aunt didn’t tell me not to say it.”
I intervened before they could get into one of their rousing arguments. “Did your aunt say, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’?”
“That’s it. She said it means don’t ever leave a woman, or she’ll get really angry.”
Austin would not let go. “As angry as hell!”
Jerry convinced Austin that hell was not a nice word to say at the dinner table. After supper, I gave Denisha a little sparkly round pin to go on her lanyard, and Jerry took a spin around the meadow on the four-wheeler. They thanked Jerry for the dinner, and then decided they’d better get home.
As we watched them ride off, I put an arm around Jerry’s shoulders. “Are we sure we want kids?”
“Many, many kids.”
“Let’s start with one.”
“Let’s start right now.”
“I’m afraid Flower of the South beckons, and I need to let you know what Olivia’s been up to.” We sat down in the rocking chairs, and I told Jerry about my discussion with William Sampson and how Kathleen thought she had been cheated out of a scholarship that Olivia didn’t need. “Looks like I’ll be paying a visit to the Delta Gamma house.”
“Think the sisters will give up any secrets?”
“If I can get Olivia’s photos from Kathleen and take them to her, she’ll give me Kathleen’s, and this whole silly affair will be over. And speaking of sisters, guess who’s related? Amanda and Megan.”
Jerry stopped rocking to give me a wide-eyed stare. “They’re sisters? Wow, talk about taking different paths.”
“Amanda doesn’t claim her, big surprise.”
“What about Eric Levin and the scorched woman, whoever she is?”
I was beginning to put a few pieces together. “If Eric Levin got one of the new Darkrose Coven members pregnant and wouldn’t take responsibility, maybe they decided to get rid of him. What if they mixed up one of the poisons from Lauren Garrett’s old notebook and left symbols on the body, hoping the Parkland coven would take the blame?”
“Or Megan, if they knew about her rhododendron plant.”
I sat back in my chair. “I’d still like to know what Megan was really doing out in the woods.”
Jerry checked his watch. “Okay, enough exciting news. We have exactly thirty minutes to make a baby.”
Chapter Sixteen
I convinced Jerry to wait until after the read-through of Flower of the South. When we got there, about three rows of the auditorium were filled. The woman Amanda had put in charge of gathering contact information gave everyone an index card and a pencil. Constance passed out copies of the script. Jerry and I sat down over to one side.
Constance handed him a script. “If you’ll mark where the songs go, please.”
He hefted the stack of paper. “Wow, that was fast. When did Amanda write this?”
Constance stiffened and gave him the same answer she’d given me. “I believe she’s been working on it for a long time.”
“You know she can’t have the show at Camp Lakenwood.”
“I told her that was too far away. Now she’s decided that Peaceful Meadow would be an ideal place.”
“You’ll have the same problem getting your audiences out there, won’t you?”
“I’m sure Amanda has a plan.”
Use Peaceful Meadow for the play? I wondered if Megan had heard this news and how she felt about it.
Amanda was on stage, rearranging the chairs and telling the leads where to sit. “You go here, and let me have Emmaline’s father here. Where’s Emmaline’s mother?”
She turned and called out to the auditorium. “Has anyone seen Joanie Raines?”
“I doubt she took that part,” I told Jerry.
“Now Amanda can play Emmaline and Mrs. Ross.”
“I’ll bet she would.”
No one knew where Joanie was, and another woman volunteered to call her.
“Oh, here she is,” someone said.
Heads swiveled as Joanie Raines came down the aisle. I thought she would be fired up and ready to tell Amanda there was no way in hell she’d play Emmaline’s mother, but Joanie was smiling. It was the self-satisfied smile of someone who is going to enjoy delivering bad news.
Amanda laid on the sarcasm. “Thank you for joining us, Joanie. Please be on time in the future.”
Joanie came up on stage, her voice pitched so all could hear. “Good evening, everyone. I’ve been on a little trip to our neighboring town of Rossboro, talking to the people at their arts council, which, by the way, is very active. They’ve heard rumors that Celosia was going to have an outdoor drama, and they love the idea. Only they want one of their own, and guess what? They claim Emmaline Ross.”
Amanda rocked back on her heels. “What?”
Joanie was thoroughly enjoying herself. “Lots of Rosses in Rossboro. Who’d have thought it? Emmaline Ross. Rossboro. You see the theme here?”
I was prepared for a major eruption, but Amanda retreated to icy haughtiness. “They have no proof whats
oever that Emmaline Ross lived anywhere near Rossboro. You’re trying to get back at me because you don’t like your part. You don’t have to take that part. You don’t have to be in the show, at all.”
Joanie got right up in Amanda’s face. “I’m not going to be. I’m going to work with the Rossboro Arts Council to create my own outdoor drama. It’ll be bigger and better than anything you can come up with, and we’ll have a terrific Emmaline. Me. You should’ve chosen me when you had the chance.” While Amanda spluttered for a reply, Joanie addressed the crowd. “And any of you are welcome to come be in my play. I’ll make sure everyone has a speaking part, and there’ll be plenty of songs and dances. You don’t have to settle for Amanda’s second-rate show.”
With that, she sailed proudly down the aisle and out of the theater. Everyone watched her go. Everyone turned back to see what Amanda would do.
Was I mistaken, or did I read relief on Constance’s face? Relief that Joanie was gone, or that Amanda’s plans had been thwarted?
“Can you believe it?” Jerry said to me. “Dueling Emmalines. Stand back and watch the grapes fly.”
Amanda drew herself up. “All right. You’ve heard what Joanie had to say. It’s obvious she’s upset because she didn’t get the lead role, and this is her way of retaliating. Anyone who would like to leave is welcome to do so. But our show will go on, and we’ll prove to Joanie and to Rossboro that Celosia can have the best outdoor drama in the state. Please turn to page one.”
A few people got up and left, but the majority stayed. I figured city pride won out over theatrical ambitions. After all, there was a friendly rivalry between Celosia and Rossboro.
“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” I told Jerry. “Rossboro. It makes sense they would have some claim to Emmaline.”
“Which they probably didn’t know they had until Joanie pointed it out.”
We stayed for the entire read-through, which took two hours. Jerry played through the songs he’d written and helped choose the singers. Amanda remained calm and professional through the rest of the rehearsal, thanked everyone for coming and for staying, and told them she’d have a schedule ready tomorrow night.
Afterwards, she let loose on her committee. “I cannot believe Joanie would do such a thing! She betrayed our entire town!”
Constance tried to placate her. “Settle down. You’re better off without her. If she’d taken the role of Mrs. Ross, she would’ve done her best to upstage the other actors.”
Another member joined in. “That’s exactly right. I’ve been in shows with her, and that’s what she does. We can find someone else to play Emmaline’s mother. And Jerry, don’t you dare write songs for Joanie’s show. Our outdoor drama has to be the best. We can’t let Rossboro win.”
Amanda looked gratified by their loyalty. “Thank you. We can do this. We will do this. Constance, make sure we get a firm commitment from all cast members. Tomorrow night, Flower of the South goes into production full steam ahead!”
We left the Improvement Society full of patriotic fervor and drove back home.
Joanie’s defection to Rossboro and the creation of another Emmaline were twists I never expected. “Every time I think things can’t get any nuttier, the people of Celosia prove me wrong. What did we do for entertainment before we moved here?”
Jerry had enjoyed all the drama. “Well, I ran cons, and you tried to keep out of pageants.”
“Speaking of cons, you haven’t heard anything else from Derek, have you?”
“Nope. Artless Bob must have done the job.”
I still didn’t believe we’d seen the last of Derek. “I didn’t see Britney or Clover here tonight.”
“They’re still in high school aren’t they? Maybe they had a pile of homework.”
“Maybe they’re out drawing pentagrams in the woods.” There was something else I wanted to check out. “Amanda says she received the grant money for the show. I wonder if Evan knows about this.”
“If it’s a theater grant, the money would come directly to him, wouldn’t it?”
“Would you be surprised if it came directly to Amanda? Do you suppose that’s why she’s been pushing so hard for this project?”
“I thought she had plenty of money.”
“Then why would she need a grant?” I turned onto the road that led to our house and put the window down so we could enjoy the mild sweet-smelling night air. “She told me the money was in the Society’s bank account, so I don’t know how she intends to get her hands on it. I need to call Evan.”
Jerry pointed ahead to a large black-and-white shape blocking our way. “Cow in the road.”
I slowed to let the cow amble across. “That one gets out once a week, doesn’t she?”
“We never had this much excitement in Parkland.” Jerry leaned out his window and mooed. “Get along, Bessie. We’ve got things to do.”
The cow took her time, pausing by the side of the road to pull up a mouthful of grass and weeds. I maneuvered around her and returned to our conversation. “I know you’ve had fun writing songs, but this whole idea has been suspect from the very beginning. Why an outdoor drama? Half the town thinks it’s a silly idea. Was it just to spite Harold, her sister’s old fiancé?”
“Maybe Amanda loved Harold. Maybe she’s the woman scorned.”
“My head is so full of all these twists and turns I don’t know how I’m going to sort it all out.”
“I can take your mind off that. You promised me a baby-making session, and I intend to hold you to that promise. In fact, I intend to hold you all night.”
***
Tuesday morning, I ran into Joanie at Deely’s. Jerry’s special today was bacon and eggs with raisin toast. I brought my plate over to her booth.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” She also had the special and added ketchup to her eggs. “I was hoping to see someone from last night. I got Amanda good, didn’t I? The look on her face was priceless.”
“Did you really go to Rossboro?”
“Of course! They even have a little exhibit about Emmaline in their museum.”
“Do they honestly want to produce an outdoor drama?”
“Yes, they do. Even though they’re bigger than Celosia, they’re still a small town, too, so it’s a matter of money, but they can do it. They’re excited.” She leaned forward. “What did Amanda say after I left? She was livid, wasn’t she?”
“You didn’t stop her.”
“I didn’t think I would. But I’ve got her on the run. And it’s only a matter of time before she’s convicted of killing Harold, so there won’t be a Flower of the South, anyway.”
“I don’t believe Amanda killed Harold.”
“Then who did? Or do you think I killed him?”
“I’ve got a few more leads to follow.”
“Well, I’ve got a meeting in Rossboro this morning. They have a fellow there, a professional playwright, who writes plays especially for their theater group. He can’t wait to write one about Emmaline. It’ll be tons better than that stuff Amanda made up, and his will be historically accurate, I’m sure.” She crunched into a piece of toast. “Think Jerry would write some songs for us, too?”
“He’s already committed to Flower of the South.”
“That’s okay. Ours might work better as a straight drama. Sometimes songs and dances slow the action down.”
I couldn’t imagine what sort of action Emmaline and her slow-growing grapes would create, but I didn’t mention that. “Do you have the number for the Arts Council?”
“Sure.” She took out her phone and looked up the number. “Here you go.”
I put the number in my phone. “Thanks.”
She chopped at her scrambled egg. “Amanda had no right to dismiss me and my acting ability. Emmaline’s mother! Honestly. Do I look like anyone
’s mother? Any old bag in town could play that part. She’s going to find out what it means to be disrespected like that. What’s that old saying? One wrong turn deserves another?”
“I’m not exactly sure that’s the way it goes.”
“That’s the way I’m saying it.” She pointed her fork at me. “And it’s true.”
“I want to forget about Amanda for the moment and talk about the Darkrose Coven.”
Joanie put her fork down with a clang. “Honestly, Madeline, will you let that go? I told you it was years ago. I don’t see what it has to do with anything.”
“I know the original members made a pact not to talk about the baby. I think the same thing is happening to the new coven.”
“Well, I don’t know what the hell I could do about that.”
“You could tell me whose baby it was and what really happened to it.”
“I’m not going to do that. All I’m going to say is it wasn’t mine. Are you happy now?”
That was more than she’d said before. “Yes, thanks. Back to Amanda. Why does everyone in the Improvement Society do what she says?”
“Because she knows where all the bodies are buried.”
“Including the baby’s?”
Joanie made a disgusted face. “My God!”
“Well?”
She pushed her plate away. “All right, look. Amanda used to spy on us when we had our meetings, so we kept going deeper into the woods. She says she saw everything, and what she means by that I don’t know, but the other members of the coven are convinced she saw the—the problem.”
“The ceremony?”
“No, no. The birth.”
“What?”
“The baby was only a few weeks old. It was a miscarriage. We helped each other. We took care of everything. We gave it a proper burial and no one said anything about it. Ever. I don’t think Amanda saw anything, and even if she did, I wouldn’t let her lord it over me the way—” She stopped. “I’m not saying another word.”
She didn’t have to. Was this the sword hanging over Constance Tate?
***
I wasn’t sure Constance would talk to me. I was right.