Witch Way to Murder

by Shirley Damsgaard

  “I’m fine.”

  “Can I make you some tea or something? You know, you should be resting. Why don’t you go lie down while I make you some hot tea?”

  “Darci, listen, I said I was fine.” My jaw clenched to stop my teeth from grinding. “Go back to the library. And if anyone else tells you they’re coming to visit, tell them not to bother. I don’t want any visitors.”

  How much more direct could I be?

  “Oh, I’m the only one. No one else is coming.” Darci walked to the first cupboard and opened the door. She carefully placed two cups on the counter. I watched in amazement. She hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Talking to her was like spitting into the wind—the words blew right back in your face. Nothing penetrated her peroxided head. I tried one more time.

  “Good, I don’t want the whole town parading through my house with fruit baskets and plants. I’d rather be left alone.”

  “Don’t worry, they won’t come. You intimidate them.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “I do?”

  Darci saw my look of surprise and grinned. “Yeah, but not me. Which cupboard did you say the tea is in?” She opened another cupboard door.

  “For curiosity’s sake, why don’t I?”

  “Why don’t you what?”

  “Try and stay with me here, Darce. Why don’t I intimidate you?” I spoke slowly, enunciating each word, as if speaking to a toddler.

  “Silly, I know what a nice person you really are.”

  “I am not.” I glared at her. Over the past four years, I’ve worked hard at maintaining a cranky image. It kept people away from me, and now Darci was trying to slip past that image.

  “Yes, you are. Look at what you did for old Mrs. Walters when she broke her hip. You visited her every day and read to her.”

  “I was sucking up. I thought she was going to croak and leave all her money to the library. But she didn’t, she got well.”

  “Oh, you were not. You’re teasing. How about when you helped Mickey Dahl with his science fair project?”

  “The kid was a pest, didn’t know how to do research or experiments. Only experiment his folks ever do is count how many beers they can drink before they pass out. I helped him so he’d quit hanging out at the library.”

  “Oh, and when he won, that’s why you put his picture from the newspaper on the bulletin board.” Darci shook her head. “Deep inside, you’re a nice person. You only act this way because you’re lonely. You need a friend.”

  What was this? Why were all these people analyzing my character? First Ned, then Rick, now Darci—it was downright annoying.

  My annoyance got the better of me and I gave Darci an icy stare. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t break into a rendition of ‘You Gotta Have Friends.’”

  Darci’s lips trembled and tears sparkled in her eyes. Oh God, I wasn’t nice. I was mean and nasty. And I felt as if I’d just kicked a puppy. Crossing the space between us, I almost reached out and touched her shoulder, but I stopped myself in time.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. And sometimes I say things without thinking.”

  Darci sniffed and gave me a weak smile. “It’s okay. Dad says I let my feelings get hurt too easy. If I were you, I’d be grouchy, too. All this stuff is happening to you, Rick Davis asking questions about you, finding a dead body. You’re in the middle of things I don’t understand. What does Abby say about this?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, since she’s a clairvoyant and a witch and all. I thought she’d be the one to help you.”

  I caught the chair to stop my slow slide to the floor.

  “That’s it, breathe deep,” Darci said, while her hand rubbed the spot between my shoulder blades. “You’ll be okay.”

  I stared off into space. Nothing registered in my brain. I didn’t even try and avoid her touching me. A chant reverberated in my mind. She knows, she knows, she knows. What do I do now?

  “Let me make you some tea. Okay?”

  “O-Okay.”

  Darci crossed to the cupboard by the stove. “Which one?”

  “On the left.”

  My wits were jumbled and I couldn’t string more than three words together. We were always so careful about Abby’s secret. How in the world did Darci, of all people, figure it out? I watched her while she made the tea. Darci, with her tight jeans, tight sweaters, and cotton candy hair. The original good-time girl, the town crier. If she knew, how long would it be before others knew? This was too much for my mind to process.

  Darci placed the tea in front of me.

  “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  The hot tea warmed the cold spot deep in my gut.

  “Abby’s secret is safe with me. I’ve known for a long time, and I would never tell. I think Abby’s awesome, and I’d never do anything to hurt her. You can trust me.”

  My eyes narrowed when I looked at Darci standing there. Could I trust her? The last person I trusted was Brian, and he died. Abby was the only one I trusted now. Darci squirmed under my scrutiny.

  She sat down. “I mean it. You can trust me.”

  “How did you know? You’re not—”

  “Involved with witchcraft? In a coven? No.”

  “Abby doesn’t belong to a coven,” I said quickly.

  “I know, she does folk magick. She would be called a wise woman or a shaman in some parts of the world.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “About shamans and folk magick? I read a lot.”

  I must have looked skeptical.

  “Well, I do,” she said defensively. “I’m disappointed in you, Ophelia. All most people see is the blond hair and big boobs in a tight sweater, especially guys. They don’t see past the way I look, like they don’t see past the way you act. They automatically assume I’m stupid. I thought you were different. I may like to laugh and have a good time, but it doesn’t make me dumb.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t,” I said, nodding.

  I was the stupid one. I’d worked with Darci for almost four years and never given her much thought. I’d been so wrapped up in my own world, my own pain. How many other things had I missed?

  “So tell me, how did you find out about Abby?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

  Darci tossed her head. “I always knew there was something special about Abby, even when I was little. She is so in tune with the world around her. And there’s her knowledge of herbs. Everyone knows she has a green thumb. Anyway, I was reading this book about Appalachia one day. It talked about wise women and how they used natural remedies to cure illness, how many of them were considered to be clairvoyant. Then it hit me. Abby’s one of them—a witch.”

  “I’d better get rid of that book. Someone else might figure it out.”

  Darci smiled. “They won’t. Everyone sees Abby as this sweet, little old lady who’s a great gardener, and that’s it. No one around here will question it.” She paused and frowned. “But Rick Davis might. He sure is asking a lot of questions, especially about you. I tried playing dumb to see what he’d tell me, but it didn’t work.”

  “You play dumb on purpose?”

  “Sure.” Darci’s face lit up. “You’d be surprised what you can find out that way, plus guys fall all over themselves to help you out. Why, I haven’t raked the leaves in my yard or had to change the oil in my car for five years.”

  “You little manipulator,” I said with a big grin.

  She shrugged. “So? If they can’t take the time to see the real me, I figure they got it coming.”

  I didn’t know what to say. It seemed Abby and I weren’t the only ones with secrets. Darci had her share, too.

  “Another thing, I pretend not to pay attention. Like earlier, I knew you didn’t want me here; you were trying to get rid of me. I heard every word you said, but I knew if I acted like I didn’t, you’d give up and let me stay. I really wanted to sta
y. I like you and I’ve been worried about you. You’ve acted so strange lately.” Darci leaned forward.

  This was bizarre. Darci and I sitting at my kitchen table having a heart-to-heart. My life was taking so many unexpected turns, and I couldn’t keep up with them.

  “I’d like for us to be friends.”

  Before I could answer, the sound of a vehicle back-firing outside caught our attention. We went to the living room window and looked out. Benny Jenkins sat in my driveway in his old rattletrap of a truck. I’d forgotten I’d asked him to come by and fix the shingles on the garage roof. I couldn’t deal with this now.

  Darci read the expression on my face.

  “You go upstairs and rest. I’ll take care of Benny. He’ll do whatever work you wanted, plus anything else I think needs to be done. And I guarantee, it’ll be free.” With a wink, she sauntered out the door to befuddle poor Benny.

  Life is full of surprises.

  Thirteen

  When Darci said I intimidated people, she shouldn’t have included little old ladies. They’re not only snoopy, but bloodthirsty, too. Give them all the details and make sure to include the gore. They showed up at the library all week, alone, in pairs, dressed in sensible shoes and polyester pantsuits—all wanting information about the dead body. First they tried softening me up with brownies and cookies. I think they thought if I was on a sugar high, I’d talk. When it didn’t work, they became assertive. A top prosecutor couldn’t have grilled a witness any better than they grilled me.

  Edna Walters and Viola Simpson caught me putting away books in the reference section.

  “Ophelia, how are you?”

  “Fine, Mrs. Walters, and you?”

  “Well, my hip bothers me some when the weather changes, but…” She paused. “…I’m more concerned about you. I heard about the shock you had. It must have been awful for you.”

  Mrs. Simpson stepped forward. “Yes, dear. Imagine coming across something like that. No wonder you fainted. Did you get a good look at the dead man before you passed out?” The blue highlights in her silver hair glinted under the fluorescent light.

  I looked at Mrs. Simpson. “Well—”

  “Do you know how he died?” Mrs. Walters interrupted, her double chins quivering from excitement.

  I turned to Mrs. Walters. They were tag-teaming me like a couple of wrestlers in a “wrassling” match—over to you, Edna. Why weren’t they zeroing in on Rick Davis? Oh, that’s right, Rick had disappeared—not as in vanished, but he was keeping out of sight. I hadn’t seen him all week. At times I almost missed him.

  “Is it true there wasn’t much left of the man’s face?” Mrs. Simpson asked.

  I got dizzy, pivoting my head back and forth between them. I had to end this.

  “Really, ladies, I don’t think Bill wants me to talk about it. There is an ongoing investigation, you know.” I tried to return to putting the books back, but they weren’t ready to give up.

  “But, Ophelia, so many rumors are circulating. If Edna and I knew the facts, we could set the story straight,” Mrs. Simpson said.

  Yeah, right. By the time the two of them got done embellishing the “facts,” whatever I told them would be unrecognizable.

  “We brought you some brownies?” Mrs. Walters said hopefully.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Walters, Mrs. Simpson, but I simply can’t talk about it.”

  Momentarily defeated, they wandered off to plan the next phase of their attack.

  I’d finished putting the books away and intended to go hide in my office when Bill showed up.

  “Ophelia, got a minute?”

  “Sure, Bill. Why don’t we go downstairs and talk in my office. That way no one will see or hear us talking.”

  Bill laughed. “They giving you a hard time?”

  “Put it this way—I don’t think the library has had this much traffic since Mr. Carroll wanted to ban the latest Nora Roberts book for being too smutty. After he lambasted the book, everyone wanted to check it out—for educational purposes, of course.”

  Once in my office, Bill got right to the point. “Have you remembered anything else?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Bill sighed. “I was hoping maybe you remembered seeing something. We don’t have a shred of physical evidence. No footprints, no tire tracks, not even the weapon that struck the guy in the head.”

  “Is that how he died?”

  “I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you, since some guy in the medical examiner’s office has already shot his mouth off about how the guy died. And your alibi is solid. Based on the decomposition of the body, the medical examiner said he’d been dead about a week before you and Davis found him. Murder probably happened on Saturday. You were seen that night having dinner at Joe’s with Abby.”

  Surprise ripped through me. I picked up a pencil and tapped it on my desk.

  “We had to check both you and Davis out. This isn’t the first time you’ve been involved in a murder.”

  Of course, since he was the sheriff, Bill would know about Brian.

  “But that doesn’t have anything to do with this,” I said. I didn’t like the idea of my life being scrutinized. I tapped faster.

  “I know. Look, I don’t want to offend you, but we can’t overlook anything.”

  “Okay, but I don’t like being reminded of four years ago,” I said. “Did Rick have an alibi?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.”

  “Davis was seen at Stumpy’s till closing that night.”

  “So how did the man die?”

  “Drowned.”

  I stopped tapping. “Drowned? But he was lying away from the river, on the bank.”

  “Yeah, he received a blow to the back of the head, not hard enough to kill him, just to knock him out. The medical examiner thinks the murderer dragged him down the bank and held his head under the water till he drowned. There’s bruising on the back of the neck. The body was pulled back up the bank and left for the animals to find.” Bill frowned. “Whoever did this is one mean sonofabitch.”

  Bill had given me way too much information, and it made my stomach turn. “Do you know who the man was?”

  “No. We were able to get partial prints from one hand, and we’re waiting for them to come back. Listen, I got to go. Didn’t think you’d remember anything else, but it never hurts to ask. I’ll talk to you later.” Bill stood to leave. “One more thing. How well do you know Davis?”

  “Not very.” I frowned. Did he know something about Rick? Watching him, I searched Bill’s face for a clue, a reason for his question, but saw nothing. “Why?”

  He shrugged carelessly. “No reason, just wondering. He seems to spend a lot of time here.”

  After Bill left, I sat at my desk in a daze. Who could be so cold as to knock someone out and then drown them? And why? Darci stuck her head in the door.

  “I think it would be a good idea if you spent the rest of the day somewhere else. Mr. Carroll and Mrs. Anderson have joined Mrs. Walters and Mrs. Simpson. They’re pretending to check the shelves for new books, but I know they’re waiting for you so they can jump you.”

  “Great. I doubt I’d make it to the door.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll run interference for you. I’ll ask Mr. Carroll if he’s read the new Sandra Brown book—he hates her almost as much as Nora Roberts. That’ll be good for a five minute tirade, at least. The ladies won’t want to miss out on that. You can slip out the back door.”

  Darci had been a mother hen all week. She had tried her best to keep the little old ladies away from me. Now she was more of an expert on their ailments than their doctors.

  I grabbed my stuff and bailed, leaving Darci to the mercy of Mrs. Walters and Mrs. Simpson.

  Walking relieves stress, but I didn’t like the idea of walking in the state park anymore. So instead I thought I’d go to the woods behind Abby’s. They were peaceful, and I knew them l
ike the back of my hand.

  I went home and threw on some old clothes. I thought about taking Lady for company, but pheasant season had started. Abby had No Trespassing signs posted, but you never know. I didn’t trust some of the city boys who trespassed in her woods to know the difference between a dog and a bird. Some of them would shoot at any animal that moved. I grabbed a bright orange sweatshirt and was off.

  I parked my car in Abby’s driveway and headed for the woods behind her house. Abby was nowhere to be seen, and I didn’t try to find her.

  The woods stretched for several miles. When Grandpa and Abby moved here fifty-three years ago and bought this place, Abby said she put an ancient spell on the woods to protect the wildlife from hunters. By the time I was a teenager, local legend had it that the woods were haunted. But according to Abby, it was her spell.

  Did I believe it? I don’t know. I did know the woods were full of deer, squirrels, and birds. You could hear the chattering of the squirrels, the rustling of the animals while they foraged under the trees, and the birds singing—until a hunter with a gun appeared. Then the woods became deadly quiet with a silence so heavy that a person would feel it pressing down on them. In all the years Abby had watched these woods, not a single animal could ever be found by a hunter. After a while the local hunters gave up and left the wildlife alone.

  It was a beautiful day. Still chilly, but no sign of rain. Had the rain after the surprise snowstorm caused the body to decompose faster?

  No. I had to stop that. I couldn’t think about it. Just enjoy the day and the walk in the woods, I told myself. I didn’t want to think about death when I was surrounded by life. I could hear the squirrels scampering through the leaves, gathering the last few nuts to store away for winter. The miles disappeared beneath my feet. Soon I was far from Abby’s house.

  My mind kept drifting back to Bill and the dead man. Should I have told Bill about Rick taking something from the dead man’s pocket? No, not a good idea.