Witch Way to Murder

by Shirley Damsgaard

  “You think someone in Summerset is involved?”

  “Who knows? But think about it—Rick Davis comes to town, and in the space of two weeks we have more thefts, the newspaper office is vandalized, and a dead man is found in the state park. A little odd, isn’t it? Things like that have never happened before.”

  “Do you really think Rick could be involved in this?”

  “I’d hate to think so,” Darci said, and shook her head. “Rick Davis is too cute to be a bad guy, but hey, you never know.”

  Her eyes narrowed while she sipped her beer. She set her bottle down, folded her arms on the table and leaned forward.

  “There is definitely something off. Rick seems to be real easygoing, easy to talk to, but have you ever noticed how any conversation with him is all one-sided? You don’t think about it while you’re talking to him, but later, if you replay the conversation, it hits you. You did most of the talking. His conversation consists of asking questions. He never shares any information about himself. And he’s so smooth, you don’t even realize what he’s doing.”

  How could I have ever thought Darci was stupid? Boy, did she have Rick’s number—one of the few people in town who did.

  “So why do you think he’s here?”

  “I don’t know,” Darci said, getting two more beers from the fridge and placing them in front of us. “Has he told you anything?”

  “No. He did mention he came from a large family, but that’s it.”

  “Well, that’s a worthless little tidbit. What do you think? You’ve spent more time with him than anyone else in town. What’s your impression?”

  “You mean other than he annoys the hell out of me most of the time?” I said, and chugged my beer.

  Darci laughed. “Yeah, he likes doing that, doesn’t he? I meant something we can use, some indication of what his motives are.”

  I glanced around the table. Where did all those empty beer bottles come from? Did we drink all of them? Must have, it was the only excuse for what I did next.

  “If I tell you something, Darci, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone.”

  “Not even Georgia?”

  “Especially not Georgia, she dates a cop. According to Abby, while I was unconscious, Rick went through the dead man’s pockets.”

  “Yuck.”

  “No kidding, yuck. And Abby says he took something.”

  “How does Abby know?”

  “How do you think?”

  “Oh. Oh.” Darci’s eyes went wide. “I see. Cool. What did he take?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d love to find out,” I said while I peeled the label off the last beer bottle. I was too far gone at the time to notice the sudden gleam in Darci’s eyes.

  Fifteen

  I had this tiny headache, right behind my left eye, and my mouth felt like the inside of an old leather shoe. What had I been thinking? I’d pay the price most of the day. While I drove to the library, the sun was a little too bright and the sounds were a little too loud. Darci was waiting inside the door for me when I opened it.

  It was disgusting; her skin was smooth, her eyes clear, and nothing of last night’s excess showed on her face. The words “bubbly” and “perky” sprang to mind as I watched her. I didn’t think I could handle bubbly and perky right now.

  “I have to talk to you. I had the most brilliant idea last night walking home,” she said, her body bouncing with anticipation.

  “Darci, most ideas someone gets when they’re loaded aren’t brilliant.” I walked to the desk and hung my coat on the rack.

  “This one really is.” Darci’s eyes darted to the right then to the left, as if to make sure no one was standing too close. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “We’ll search Rick’s room. See if we can find what he took from the dead man.”

  “Are you crazy?” I almost shrieked.

  “Ssh, someone will hear you.”

  “Okay.” I dropped my voice a few decibels and smoothed the lapels of my corduroy jacket. “Are you crazy? That’s breaking and entering, and it’s illegal.”

  Darci grabbed my sleeve and pulled me around the corner of the desk. “Not if you have a key.”

  “How are you going to get a key? Pick his pocket?”

  Bad mental image. I didn’t like the idea of Darci going through Rick’s pockets.

  “’Course not. I’ll get it from Georgia.”

  “Georgia is not going to give you the key to Rick’s room. That wouldn’t be very good business, giving out the keys to her customer’s room.” I tried walking past Darci to the counter, but she wouldn’t move. “Come on, we’ve got work to do. We can’t go around planning to break into someone’s room, even if it is Rick Davis. And for Pete’s sake, did you forget Georgia dates a cop? Alan would arrest us in a second for this.”

  “Look, I told you it wouldn’t be breaking and entering, not with a key. And I know where she keeps the duplicates. I help her with the cleaning sometimes on the weekends. She keeps the extras in a drawer behind the counter. It would be so easy to borrow the key to his room and put it back after we’re finished.”

  I stood there, hands on my hips, glaring at her. This was stupid. We’d get caught sure as the devil; maybe not arrested, but there’d be a lot of explaining to do. But Darci wasn’t giving up. I could feel the excitement pouring off her in waves.

  “Darci—”

  “No, listen, I’ve got this all figured out. Here’s what we do. I snag the key from the drawer, you come with me to Georgia’s, and while she’s busy, you sneak up the back stairs to Rick’s room. I’ll keep her busy in another part of the house. When you’re done, sneak back down the stairs and out the door. See, easy,” she said, her eyes dancing.

  Oh, yeah, easy. And what happened to the we? If someone got caught, who would that someone be? Not we, me.

  “It seems you’ve forgotten one small thing. What about Rick? Where will he be while I’m conducting this search? Hmm?”

  Darci’s eyes lost some of their sparkle while she contemplated the glitch in her plan.

  “Oh, I didn’t think about him.” She brightened. “I’ll figure something out. We’ll get somebody to keep him busy.”

  “And how are you going to do that? Tell someone ‘Oh, by the way, planning a little break-in tonight. Could you keep Rick busy so he doesn’t catch Ophelia going through his stuff?’”

  “I’ll think of something. Don’t worry, trust me, I won’t let him catch you.”

  “Darci, when somebody says, ‘Don’t worry, trust me,’ the first thing I do is worry. This is a bad idea, and I’m not going to do it.” I walked around her to the counter and picked up the returned books.

  Darci didn’t move. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her. From the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t ready to give up on her plan. But she didn’t have any choice because I was not going to search his room.

  “Okay, if that’s how you feel,” she said as she picked up another pile of books.

  “Good, I’m glad you’re being reasonable. There has to be another way to find out what he’s up to.” Satisfied, I turned to place the books on the shelves.

  “Fine. If you don’t want to, I’ll ask Abby.”

  The books hit the floor with a loud thud.

  “She’d be better at it anyway. Maybe she could pick something up from handling his stuff.” Darci walked over to the mystery section and began putting the books in order.

  “Darci,” I whispered harshly, “you are not going to involve my seventy-three-year-old grandmother in this scheme.”

  “Okay, so when do you want to do it, then?” She paused and thought for a moment. “I think today after work would be best. The sooner, the better. We can pick up my car at your house and drive to Georgia’s. You’ll have to hide in the backseat till I can slip you the key,” Darci said, sliding Murder on the Orient Express next to Nemesis.

  I stood there, my eyes unfocused, and wondered what customers would say if they walke
d in and saw me trying to shake some sense into Darci.

  Sixteen

  Later that day Darci’s big plan played over and over in my mind while I filed the overdue notices. I was going to burgle someone’s room. I’d have a key, but that was rather a fine point—it was still breaking and entering. Well, maybe not breaking, but certainly entering. If I were caught, would I be able to talk my way out of it? Would Georgia press charges?

  “Ahem.”

  Raising my head, I saw Ned standing there, watching me.

  “You seem lost in your thoughts.”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes; if he only knew. Would Ned be writing a story about me for this week’s paper—Librarians Stage Burglary of Local Bed and Breakfast? It would give the liars’ club a new topic of discussion.

  “Ned, what can I do for you?”

  “I need to talk to you, in private. Could we use your office?”

  “Sure, right this way.”

  Ned’s footsteps echoed in the stairwell while he followed me to the basement. My office was in its usual mess—books and magazines piled everywhere. I moved the largest stack from a chair.

  “Sorry. Have a seat. What do you want to talk to me about?”

  “Well, we haven’t had a chance to talk since you found the dead body. How are you holding up?”

  “Fine.”

  “That’s good. I thought about calling you, but I didn’t know if you’d welcome it.”

  Ned scooted forward on his chair.

  “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? How I am?”

  “No. Well, yes, partly. Ahh, I heard the sheriff was by to talk to you. I wondered what it was about. You know how snoopy journalists are.”

  He smiled, his green eyes crinkling in the corners. His smile—boy, did he have a great smile. So friendly, so understanding. How could I not tell this man anything he wanted to know? I fought the inclination to spill my guts.

  “You have a source in the department. I imagine they could tell you more than I can.”

  “Yeah, but they’re not talking. The whole department is stonewalling me, even my source. Haven’t gotten anything since it slipped how the guy was killed.”

  “You know as much as I do.”

  “But you saw the body. I didn’t. Anything specific you remember about it?”

  “You mean other than it made me sick and I fainted?”

  Ned’s friendly smile faded and he squirmed in his chair. “I didn’t mean to sound uncaring. I’m sure it was gruesome, but I need all the information I can get.”

  “You’re going to have to get it someplace else. I don’t know any more than what I’ve already told you and the sheriff,” I answered, staring at a spot on the wall above Ned’s head.

  “But, I know how observant you are. Surely, there must be something you remember about the body. Maybe if you thought about it.” Ned leaned forward, forcing my attention to shift to him.

  “You want me to relive that whole scene in my mind? Is that what you’re asking me to do?” I asked, frowning.

  He pulled his hand through his hair and leaned back. “I know that sounds tough, but I’ve got to find out what’s happening to this town.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

  “Okay, then can you tell me what you were doing in the woods with Rick Davis? I told you he might be dangerous.”

  I stood. “That isn’t any of your concern. If the only reason you wanted to talk to me was to pump me for information, like I said, I just can’t help you. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Sit down, I’m sorry. Davis was by the office this morning, asking a lot of questions about the Korn Karnival, and I don’t know why. Do you?”

  I sat, leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “What kind of questions? Like how many funnel cakes the Methodists sold at their food stand or what?”

  Ned cocked his head and frowned at my sarcasm.

  “Of course not. He asked me how many people were there and how many of them were strangers, even asked if I had any pictures from this year’s celebration. I told him most of them were destroyed in the fire set in the wastebasket. What do you remember about the Korn Karnival this year, anything important?”

  “Are you kidding? The only thing I remember is it rained during the parade. And it made the colors of crepe paper on the co-op’s float bleed together. Their giant yellow and green ear of corn looked like this soggy, greenish, phallic symbol. I doubt that would interest Rick Davis.”

  Ned didn’t like my answer. His eyes narrowed again while he glared at me.

  “Come on, think, you have to know something. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Davis. What does he ask you about?” His eyes scanned the room restlessly, as if he were searching for proof I was lying. “I know you’re holding out on me. Why? Have you fallen for his line of bullshit like everyone else in this town?”

  “Okay, that’s it.” I stood again, looking down at him. “I’ve tried to be polite, but I’m not going to allow you to harass me. I’ve got work to do. Go find someone else to badger.”

  “That’s how it is, huh?” Ned surged to his feet. “I thought you cared about this town, too. I guess I was wrong.”

  The door to my office hit the bookcase behind it, bouncing, when Ned shoved it out of his way.

  I was still standing in the same spot when Darci peered around the corner.

  “Are you okay? I saw Ned storm out of here. What happened?”

  “Oh, he thinks I know something that I’m not telling him.”

  “Well, you do. You know Rick took something from the dead man.”

  “Right, and I’m going to tell him that?”

  “Guess not. Then you’d have to tell him how you know. Anyway, forget about Ned. It’s time to close up. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah, let me shut off the computer.” I walked around the corner of my desk, clicked the mouse, and the computer powered down.

  “I went to Georgia’s for lunch today. Here, you’ll need these.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Darci holding up a key in one hand and a pair of rubber gloves in the other.

  “Are you nuts?” I said, shoving the key and gloves back in her hands when she tried to give them to me.

  Darci pushed the gloves and the key in my hand. “That’s the second time today you’ve asked me that.”

  “No, the first time I asked you if you were crazy,” I said, refusing to move.

  “Come on, we’ve got to hurry, I changed the plan. I’ll tell you about it on the way to your house.”

  I allowed Darci to hustle me out of the library. Once in the car, I stole a look at Darci while I drove.

  “Okay, so what’s your modified plan?”

  “I snitched the key when I had lunch with Georgia today. The gloves are hers, too. She uses them to do dishes. Anyway, I checked around, and Rick is playing pool at Stumpy’s. He’ll be there for the next hour and a half, so you need to hurry.”

  “How do you know he’ll be there that long?”

  “’Cause I paid Johnny Tucker twenty bucks to keep him there,” Darci said, her voice full of satisfaction.

  It would be pointless to ask her again if she were crazy, I knew the answer. But who really was the crazy one? Darci or me? She thought this whole scheme up, but I was the one who allowed myself to be suckered into it. I’d say it was a toss-up.

  After picking up Darci’s car, the drive to Georgia’s was silent at first. Darci wanted me to dress like some covert operations specialist—black jeans, black turtleneck. I refused, pointing out time was limited and we didn’t want to waste it arguing about making a fashion statement. We were on the way to the bed and breakfast within fifteen minutes.

  “All right,” Darci said, “here’s what you do. Right before we get there, you need to slump down in the seat so no one can see you. I’ll go inside and tell Georgia I stopped by to pick up some of her homemade pickles. They’re in the basement, and while she’s down there, I’ll let you
in the back door. Watch for my signal. I’ll park in back, but stay scrunched down in case someone comes too close to the car.”

  Like maybe Georgia’s boyfriend, Alan the deputy? I didn’t ask her how I was supposed to see her signal if I were hiding in the bottom of the car. Silently, I sat cursing myself for being a fool.

  “Once you’re inside, I’ll keep Georgia busy while you go up the back stairs and search Rick’s room. It’s the second door on the left. Oh, and when you’re going up the stairs, watch out for the third step from the top, it squeaks.”

  Ten minutes later I’m twisted in the shape of a pretzel in the bottom of the car, peeking out the window, with only the top of my head visible—I hoped. Finally, I saw Darci waving frantically from the back door. Should I crouch and run like the swat teams do on television? Or calmly walk to the door, like I wasn’t planning on searching someone’s room? I searched my pocket and found the key. Grabbing the gloves, I was out of the car in a half walk, half saunter to the house.

  “Hurry up. Georgia’s going to be back any minute.”

  When I reached the door, I thought about making one last plea for sanity. The look on Darci’s face told me it would be a waste of time—time we didn’t have. Her face glowed and there was an air of excitement about her. She seemed to quiver while she whispered her last minute instructions.

  “Hurry, you have about an hour left. When you’re done, sneak back down the stairs. I’ll keep Georgia in the parlor, it’s in front.”

  “How will you know when I’m done?”

  “Drop the gloves by the back door. Go on, hurry, and remember about that step.”

  I crept quietly up the stairs. Did Darci say third door on the left and second step from the top—or second door on the left and third step from the top? Damn, I couldn’t remember. When the third step creaked, the sound rang in my ears. It was so loud Darci and Georgia must have heard it. Do I stay where I am or creep back down the stairs? I listened for the sound of rushing footsteps, but the house was silent. The sudden noise had solved my problem—third step, second door.