Witch Way to Murder

by Shirley Damsgaard

  I watched Darci while I shoved my backpack under the counter. Her mouth tightened when I said Jake’s name. She didn’t like him, either.

  “I heard all about it. Ed Johnson had anhydrous stolen from his tank last weekend.”

  Her face fell when she heard that. But all at once, she perked up.

  “Bet you don’t know about the newspaper office. I just found out myself from Georgia. I can’t believe no one said anything. Georgia dates Alan, Bill’s deputy, you know. So she has the inside scoop.”

  “Yes, I know—Georgia, Alan, hot romance. What happened at the newspaper?” I asked, making a circle with my first finger, nudging her along.

  “Well,” Darci said, warming to her subject, “someone broke in last Saturday night. Georgia said Alan said—and you know how Alan—”

  “Yes, yes, I know Alan likes to talk. Try and stay on track, Darce,” I said, smiling. “You were telling me about the newspaper?”

  “Okay, okay. Somebody broke in to vandalize the office. But first they started a fire in the wastebasket, and the smoke detector went off. They had to leave before they could finish, or they would’ve got caught because of all the noise the smoke detector made. Alan said it was pretty stupid. They should’ve trashed the place first and then started the fire. Not too much damage was done, except for the wastepaper basket, of course.”

  A fairly concise rendition, for Darci anyway. The criminal element in Summerset had been busy lately. I hated to ask, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “Does Alan have any suspects?”

  “No, he thinks it was probably a bunch of kids with nothing better to do.”

  I had a feeling Alan was wrong, but I kept it to myself. Was this the beginning of the trouble Abby had seen? I didn’t want to know.

  I looked up at Darci. She was watching me with a knowing look in her eye. She wasn’t finished with her gossip yet.

  “Georgia also mentioned Rick Davis was at your house on Saturday,” she said, dropping the bomb. “Why didn’t you tell me when Abby asked me about Rick?”

  Peachy. That Georgia was just a fount of information. Someone must have seen Rick’s car in my driveway. That’s what I get for living in a small town.

  “I think he likes you. That’s why he’s asking all those questions. And he dropped this off this morning,” she said, and handed me an envelope.

  Oh, brother, what now? I thought, ripping it open. Inside were two tickets to The Thin Man and a gift certificate to one of the nicest restaurants in Des Moines. Included was a note. Thank you for the book.

  “See. I told you,” Darci said, peering over my shoulder. “He likes you. Are you going to invite him to go with you?”

  “Don’t be silly. I can’t accept this gift,” I said, and stuffed the envelope in my pocket.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t accept gifts for doing my job. And, ahh…ahh…”

  “You’d feel obligated?”

  “Well. Yeah,” I said, shifting my weight.

  “And you don’t like feeling obligated?” Darci looked at me thoughtfully.

  “No, I don’t.” I shifted back.

  “I think what he did is very sweet,” she said, emphasizing the sweet. “And it wouldn’t kill you to go out with him. You might be surprised and have a good time.”

  Darci was a hopeless romantic. For the past three years, she had tried to fix me up with every unattached man in town, usually her rejects. No matter how hard I tried to convince her I wasn’t interested, she always persisted. This was all I needed, Darci manufacturing a romance between Rick Davis and me.

  “He sure spends a lot of time here. You know, if you would put more effort into your appearance, you would have a lot of guys asking you out. You’re pretty, you just need a little work,” she said, sizing me up.

  I snorted. There wasn’t anything wrong with the way I looked, but I’ve never considered myself pretty. My smile’s nice, and I’d been told before my eyes are expressive, but the guy who told me that just wanted sex. No, I’m strictly average. Average height, average weight, average everything.

  “I know you’re trying to be helpful, and I appreciate it, but give it up. I’m not interested in Rick Davis, or anyone else for that matter. I don’t have the time.”

  “Well, you should make the time. No one should be alone.”

  Yes, they should, especially someone like me. But I couldn’t tell Darci that without explaining. And that was something I had no intention of doing.

  Seven

  It was turning out to be a rotten day. First, the scene with Jake at the co-op, now I had to sit through an endless Chamber of Commerce meeting that was being held at Joe’s Café. Joe’s had been a fixture of downtown Summerset for as long as I could remember. In fact, it had been here so long, the local joke was—Noah ate lunch at Joe’s right before the flood. About twenty years ago, Joe decided to go out on a limb and do some remodeling. The walls were covered with fake wood paneling and the floors had cheap vinyl tile. The suspended ceiling tiles were yellow from twenty years’ worth of cigarette smoke. Around the room, pinned to the paneling with thumbtacks, were colorful, cardboard turkeys—the kind you buy at the dime store. I suppose it was Joe’s attempt to give the place a festive tone for Thanksgiving.

  Claire Canyon, the president of the library board, insisted I attend the meeting with her in case she needed my help with her summer reading program presentation. And you didn’t say no when Claire insisted. It had always amazed me how much energy and intensity could be packaged in such a small person. Her causes were many and her passion for each one was great. Plus, she had a habit of peering over her glasses in a way that made you want to find the nearest rock and crawl underneath it. So rather than look for a rock, I let myself be dragged to the meeting.

  If the atmosphere at Joe’s was lacking, the food made up for it. The turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, and dressing had been wonderful. I wish I could say the same for the meeting. Talk, talk, talk, all without one single decision made.

  Abby was also at the meeting, and I sat between her and Claire. They both listened politely to each speaker. But not me—I only pretended to listen. Actually, I was amusing myself by counting the number of dots on the ceiling tile. Joe’s Café had a lot of them. According to my calculations, there were 2,355. I was so intent on my math that I missed Claire’s comment.

  “Ophelia, pay attention,” she whispered.

  “To what? Agnes McPhearson’s report on the how many petunias were planted this year at the city park, or the one Mr. Collins will give on how much money the dunking booth made at the Korn Karnival?” I whispered back. “Honestly, I’d rather you force me to drive back and forth across Nebraska. It couldn’t possibly be any more boring than this.”

  “Hey, I was born and raised in Nebraska.” Claire peered at me over her glasses.

  Oh no, the thing with the glasses, and I squirmed in my seat. “Oops, sorry.”

  “Never mind,” she said, settling the glasses back on her nose. “We need the business community’s support for the reading program at the library, so we have to tolerate this minor inconvenience till they reach us on the agenda.”

  She was right. With the cutbacks in state spending, support from the local merchants would make all the difference as to whether the program stayed open. Claire hoped her pitch for backing from the chamber would be rewarded in the form of cold, hard cash.

  “So, exactly when will we be called on to speak? After the report on the petunias, or after the one on who got dunked?”

  Claire chuckled at my remark, but Abby jabbed me in the ribs.

  “Shh,” she said without turning her head.

  Claire briefly touched my knee. “Be patient,” she said. “Adam is getting ready to shut Agnes off.”

  Adam Hoffman, the chamber president, had the same glazed look in his eyes that I did. He interrupted Agnes and smiled tightly.

  “Thank you, Agnes, for your very informative report. A
nd may I say, I hope the park looks as lovely next year as it did this year.”

  Agnes preened at his praise and sat down. I had to give Adam credit; he was smooth, almost too smooth. He had this habit of looking at a person without really seeing them. And he always had a smile on his face, but his eyes seemed flat. He reminded me of a politician or an old-fashioned snake oil salesman, not a bank manager. No one else in town agreed. They all loved him, and they treated him like everyone’s favorite uncle.

  When I looked around the room, I saw Ned Thomas, the editor of the Summerset Courier, hunched over in his chair, staring at the floor. Ned appeared as bored as I felt. Maybe he was counting the cracks in the floor, instead of the dots on the ceiling. He looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back.

  When Ned mouthed the word “boring,” I stifled a giggle. He noticed and his smile broadened. My smile grew wider. Another jab in my ribs from Abby and a look from Claire got my attention.

  “Would you quit making eyes at Ned? We’re next,” Claire said.

  My face felt suddenly hot. Even though Ned was single, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. Or Abby and Claire to think I was flirting. I looked back quickly at Adam Hoffman, sitting at the front table. From the look on his face, I knew he had been watching me. My face turned a deeper shade of red.

  Finally, it was Claire’s turn. In the end, she didn’t need me after all. By the time she finished with her impassioned report, the chamber voted unanimously to make a contribution to the reading program. The only thought in my mind was to get out of there and go home, but Ned had other ideas.

  “Ophelia, would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?”

  “Gee, Ned, I really need to get home. This was a long meeting and I’m pretty tired.” I looked longingly over my shoulder at the door.

  “Well, a cup of coffee will perk you up, and I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” After one last look at the door, I followed Ned.

  We made our way to the back booth, past the crowd, and sat down. Joe came over and took our order. I fiddled with my spoon while I tried to think of something to say.

  “I was sorry to hear about the fire at the paper. Was there much damage?” I said after Joe brought our coffee.

  “No, not too much. They started the fire first, which was a good thing, I guess. It made the smoke alarm go off. Alan figures the noise scared them and they ran.”

  “Did anyone see anything?”

  “No, unfortunately. The funny thing is what they burned. They found all the pictures I had taken this fall of the Korn Karnival,” Ned said, gazing into his cup. “They dumped them in the wastebasket, along with the negatives, and set them on fire.” He lifted his head and looked at me. “Why do you suppose anyone would want to burn them?”

  “Got me. Maybe it was the first thing they found.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Alan thinks a bunch of kids did it, but the fire isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Ophelia, Ned, mind if I join you?”

  I turned to see Adam standing over my right shoulder.

  “Of course not, Adam,” Ned said.

  When Adam sat down, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed me. Evidently, he’d never heard of the saying, “Less is more.” Trying not to wrinkle my nose, I scooted as close to the wall as I could to get away from the smell. Wedged in the corner, I watched both Adam and Ned.

  “Ned, I was very upset to hear about the fire,” Adam said. “I don’t suppose the sheriff has any clues?”

  “No, there wasn’t much for them to go on,” Ned replied.

  “You’re being very understanding. Personally, I think there have been too many incidences of vandalism and crimes here in Summerset recently,” Adam said, settling back on the bench. “The city council should be addressing this problem instead of making excuses for the sheriff’s department. Summerset needs its own police force.”

  “Well, if the rumors are true, and you run for mayor, that statement would make a good campaign issue.”

  “Ned, you’ve lived here all your life. You ought to know better than to believe rumors.” Adam smiled another of his flat and lifeless smiles.

  Ned leaned forward and met Adam’s smile with one of his own. “I’ve also been a newspaperman long enough to know some rumors are based in fact. My instinct tells me this one might be true.”

  The smile left Adam’s face, and he stared down at his hands and steepled his fingers. His face was serious when he looked at Ned. “This is strictly off the record. I’m only telling you this because I trust you. The truth is, I have been approached by several concerned citizens and asked to run for mayor. They don’t like the direction the town is heading. Too many things have happened recently, and they feel the sheriff hasn’t been as effective as he should’ve been. I’ve made no secret that I agree with them, and I’d love the chance to clean things up. However, my family comes first, and Nina’s health is a big concern. She’s so fragile, and I don’t know what the stress of a campaign might do to her. Until I talk to her doctors, I won’t make a decision.”

  Both of them seemed to forget I was sitting there. While I listened to their conversation, I twisted the paper napkin in my lap back and forth. I fiddled with the coffee. Being this close to Adam Hoffman made me nervous, and I didn’t care whether or not he ran for mayor. It was nothing to me. I wanted to think of a polite way to excuse myself and go home. It had been a long day.

  Looking over the back of the booth, I saw Abby standing by the door talking to Claire. Maybe if I caught her eye, she’d rescue me. I stared at her, willing her to glance my way. When she did, I made a slight jerk with my head. But instead of walking to the booth, she waved and resumed talking to Claire. Defeated, I turned back to Ned and found them both watching me.

  “Excuse me? Did you say something?” I asked, blinking with surprise.

  The corner of Ned’s mouth twitched as if he was trying to stop a grin. “Ophelia, Adam asked you about the vandalism.”

  “Me? I’m just the librarian. I don’t know anything about what’s going on.”

  Ned laughed. “He didn’t ask if you knew anything, just what you thought.”

  “Oh, hmm…” I paused, picking apart the twisted napkin in my lap. “Well, it’s unfortunate.”

  Adam turned his gaze to me and slid his arm across the back of the booth. I didn’t think the smell of his cologne could get any sharper, but it did. And I crouched closer to the wall.

  “That’s it? Unfortunate? Don’t you have any other opinion? Don’t you care about what’s going on in our community?”

  His questions made me feel as if I were in seventh grade, when Mrs. Simpson called on me in class and I didn’t know the answer. If I weren’t an adult, I would’ve slunk under the table.

  “Ah, I guess I trust Bill and Alan to figure it all out,” I said.

  A look of pure disgust crossed Adam’s face at my lack of civic interest. Irritated, I sat up straighter in my seat.

  “Actually, Adam, I do have opinions, but they’re private. I don’t believe in announcing them all the time he way some people do. And I prefer to make my political opinions known in the voting booth.”

  He pulled his arm back from the top of the booth and turned back to Ned.

  “Well, Ned, Ophelia has made it clear where she’ll be standing come election time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get home to check on Nina.” Looking first at me, then Ned, he reached out to shake Ned’s hand. “I know I can trust your discretion concerning Nina. I wouldn’t want any rumors circulating about her health.”

  He stood, and I watched as he made his way through the room. As he did, he stopped to talk to people still gathered in groups. He shook some of their hands and gave a jovial pat on the back to others.

  Boy, he sure knew how to work a crowd.

  Scanning the room, I looked for Abby, but she had left. Now I couldn’t use her as an excuse to leave myself.

  I looked back at Ned and notic
ed him twisting a napkin back and forth.

  “Ophelia, after you basically told Adam Hoffman to mind his own business, I probably shouldn’t bring this up.”

  I glanced at his napkin, twisted in a tight ball now and lying on the table.

  “Ned, it’s late, just say what you want to say. If it isn’t any of your business, I’ll tell you.”

  “I heard Rick Davis was at your house last weekend.”

  “That isn’t any of your business.”

  Ned grinned when I folded my arms and leaned back against the worn cushion.

  “I’m not kidding, Ned, it isn’t any of your business.”

  “See, I knew you’d say that. I’m not trying to be a snoop, I’m just curious as to what this guy is doing in town.”

  You and me both, Ned, I thought, but I couldn’t very well voice that without giving something away.

  “As far as I know, Ned, he’s a chemical salesman.”

  Ned took a slow sip of his coffee while he appeared to be considering his next words.

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Come on, I make my living at sifting truth from lies. You may fool some of the people in this town, but you don’t fool me. You’re an observer, just like I am. You watch and listen, and you keep what you learn to yourself. You don’t get involved. You stay behind the wall you’ve built around your life. As far as I can tell, there are very few people you let inside that wall.”

  The shock must have been apparent on my face. I couldn’t believe Ned read me so well. Evidently, I was slipping. The thought made me shudder. I had too many secrets to protect to allow that.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else in town sees you the same way I do. Most people are content to take things at face value. It’s easier that way. And I’m not interested in prying into your personal life—I only want to know about Rick Davis. Somehow, he bothers me.”

  Ned sipped once again on his coffee, and I tried to think of an answer. What did I know about Rick Davis? Nothing, really, so what could I say? He gave me tickets to go to a movie?