Witch Way to Murder

by Shirley Damsgaard

  Sadness hung over the library like a transparent veil when everyone learned of the accident. People congregated in small groups, whispering in hushed and solemn voices. Behind the sadness, anger shimmered. Anger at a young life wasted, anger at the drug dealers who preyed on the weakness of others, anger at the police for their inability to shut down the meth labs. How many more young lives would be lost or ruined before these social vampires got what they deserved? They were sucking the lifeblood from our town by corrupting its youth. It had to be stopped.

  All I could think about was going home, away from the sadness, into the safety and warmth of my home. Darci must have felt the same way; she was subdued and thoughtful for the rest of the morning and afternoon. We decided to keep the letter among the three of us. Bill and Alan had enough to deal with right now. There wasn’t anything they could do but just tell me to be careful. No, it was better not to involve them.

  I had my coat on and was out the door at five. The peace I thought I’d feel when I reached my house eluded me. Lady and Queenie, sensing my mood, stayed close to my side. But even their quiet presence didn’t help me find the peace I sought. I tried working on my needlepoint, but after snarling the thread five times, I gave up. I popped a tape of The Thin Man with Myrna Loy and William Powell into the VCR. I might have missed seeing it in the theater, but I could watch it now. Getting involved in the movie would help me relax. Wrong. The snappy dialogue failed to hold my attention. Shutting the tape off, I wandered from room to room until I finally found myself in the kitchen.

  What did I know that was so important that someone would try to scare me? Did they think I knew something about the dead man? And what connection did he have to Summerset? Were the matches in his pocket a fluke, or had he been here during the Korn Karnival? How involved was Rick Davis in all of this? The trouble had started when he came to town. Another fluke, or was he somehow behind it?

  I needed answers, and I needed them fast. It didn’t take the note or Abby to tell me the danger was growing. I could feel it myself. A quiver of fear slid through me.

  What had Abby said? Let my gift lead me to the answers? All I had to do was open my mind and myself? Yeah, right. I’d tried that one before. Problem was, I never knew what would pay me a visit. I’d sworn after Brian, I would never try again. Now I had no choice; I had to find the answers.

  I went to my bedroom, changed into my nightgown, and crawled under the covers. Lady and Queenie stood vigil by my bedside. While I lay there, I emptied my mind and willed sleep to come. The last conscious feeling I had was falling.

  I found myself floating aimlessly in a strange room. My nightgown billowed around my legs, but my feet didn’t touch the ground. The room was large, with a shiny wood floor. Two walls were covered in full-length mirrors, but I cast no reflection.

  One of the mirrored walls had a barre attached to the glass. At the barre stood a young girl—neither a child nor yet a woman. Her pale blond hair was pulled tightly into a bun on the top of her head. She wore a black leotard with a short flowing skirt attached. Her feet were encased in pointe ballet slippers, and the shiny ribbons crisscrossed her strong ankles and calves. She arched and stretched while she warmed her long lean muscles.

  After she finished her exercises, she knelt and pushed the play button on a small tape player. The haunting music swam through the room. I had heard the music before, but I couldn’t remember the name. The girl swayed to the rhythm. Suddenly, she was flying across the room in elegant leaps. She twirled and spun on her toes while her arms circled her body in great sweeps. The music surrounded her and she moved to it effortlessly. Her form was controlled, yet there was so much freedom in her movement. My heart hurt from the poignancy of the girl’s dance.

  With one huge leap it was over as a single note echoed in the empty room. The girl crouched on the floor with her head bowed. When she lifted her face, she wore a smile of complete joy. I could feel the girl’s happiness, and I knew this was her purpose in life.

  The scene shifted, and we were in a bar. Young men in uniform gathered along the bar and in the corners. The girl was on the dance floor with her friends. Once again the music carried her away, as it had in the dance studio. Only this time the music was the hard, throbbing rhythm of rock and roll. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be in the bar—she was too young. But she didn’t care; she delighted in breaking the rules. From the corner of her eye she saw a soldier, a cigarette held between his thumb and forefinger, watching her. Turning to face him, with sensuous moves she rotated her hips in time to the music. The soldier’s eyes grew wide in appreciation, and he blew out a long stream of smoke. She gave him a bold look and continued dancing, using all her skill as a dancer to keep the soldier’s attention.

  When the song ended, she left her friends standing on the dance floor and walked up to him, smiling. He threw an arm around her shoulder and handed her a bottle. Tossing her head back, she downed the contents in one gulp. Reaching up, she removed the cigarette from his mouth and, placing it between her own lips, took a drag. The soldier laughed and bent to whisper in her ear. She looked up at him, smiling, and—

  The rage hit me and slammed me against the wall, clouding the vision of the girl and the soldier from my mind. It wasn’t my rage I felt, but someone else’s. The soldier’s? It was dark, and it roiled through the room in angry waves sweeping me with it. I was caught in the vortex, and it was pulling me deeper and deeper into the depths of hate, vengeance, and grief. I knew if I didn’t free myself quickly, I would be lost forever in its dark tortuous mass. Like a swimmer struggling toward the surface, I kicked free.

  I jolted awake. My body was covered with drops of sweat. Disoriented, I pulled myself up and looked around the room. Familiar objects surrounded me, and I sighed with relief. I was in my own bed, in my own house—back where I belonged.

  Queenie crawled on my lap, her purr rumbling in the quiet room. I stroked her absentmindedly while I thought about the dream. The music was familiar, and the melody fluttered and teased in my head. I was close, so close, to remembering, but it evaded me. I knew I had heard that song before, but where and when? I had never seen the girl before in my life. Who was she?

  Twenty

  “What happened to you?” Darci said when I approached the counter the next morning.

  “Thanks, and you look nice, too,” I replied, smiling tightly.

  I didn’t need to be reminded how awful I looked. I already knew. I had spent most of the night trying to remember the song from my dream, vision, or whatever it was.

  No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t come. It was driving me nuts. My eyes had dark circles under them and were red from lack of sleep. I felt out of sorts and hoped today would be calm. I needed time to regroup.

  “I’m sorry, did you have a bad night?”

  “Yeah, I did. Things are spinning out of control, and I don’t know what to do next. I tried to do as Abby instructed last night, but I don’t know if it worked or not.”

  “What happened?”

  “I dreamed of a girl dancing, a ballet, to a familiar song, but I can’t remember the name. Somehow I think it’s important that I remember.”

  “Did you know the girl?”

  “No, of that, I’m sure. But I can’t shake the feeling she’s somehow tied to the dead man I found.” I rubbed my hand across my forehead. “I don’t know. The situation is so complicated. Maybe my dream was some type of a vision, or maybe it was just random electrical firings from my subconscious.”

  “Hum the song for me, maybe I can help.”

  “Oh, please. I can’t sing for sour apples, and that includes humming.”

  “Try.”

  I hummed the tune. “There, happy? Bet you didn’t recognize it, did you?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s this? A sing-along? Can I join?” Rick said, walking from around the corner of a bookcase and wearing his usual grin.

  I eyed him suspiciously, while Rick lo
oked back at me, the picture of innocence.

  Who was Rick Davis? I’d known him for little over a week, but what I knew about him wouldn’t, to quote Abby, have filled a thimble. Was he as innocent as he appeared? Abby said the person who left the note wore a mask. What if Rick’s friendly attitude was a mask? A mask to hide the evil. A chill blew over my skin.

  Rick squirmed a little. “What?” he asked defensively. “What have I done now?”

  “Nothing,” I said, rubbing my forehead again. “Don’t you have someplace else to go?” I asked, squinting at him.

  “I’m glad to see you, too,” he said, ignoring the hint. “You look a little rough today. Tired. Like you haven’t been sleeping well. Have you been sleeping well?”

  This guy doesn’t give up, I thought, rolling my eyes and shaking my head.

  I turned my attention to Darci. “I’m going to my office. And I don’t want to be disturbed by anyone,” I added, with a pointed look back at Rick.

  “But we weren’t finished talking.”

  “Oh yes we were.”

  “No,” he said slowly. “I want to know why you’re having trouble sleeping. When someone can’t sleep, it’s because something’s bothering them. Is anything bothering you?”

  “You mean other than you?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Ha ha, you’re such a kidder. Sometimes a guilty conscience can keep people awake at night. Are you feeling guilty about anything? Would you like to talk to me about it?” he asked, tracing his finger back and forth along the edge of the bookcase.

  When I didn’t answer, Rick shifted his posture. His shoulders squared, and the affable manner he’d worn since I met him seemed to fall away like a snake shedding its skin. And I got a glimpse of the man behind the jokes and the teasing. A man with a strong will, who let very little stand in his way when pursuing his goal.

  “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Jensen,” he said, looking me over.

  “I—I don’t know what you mean,” I stammered, and looked down at my feet.

  No, I would not let him intimidate me. I tossed back my head and met his stare. “The only thing I want to tell you, Rick, is to—”

  “Good morning, Ophelia.”

  Damn, Abby was standing there. She was dressed in a gray linen pantsuit that made her eyes look even grayer. Her normal braid was wound not around the top of her head, but in an elegant knot at the base of her skull. And in her arms was a huge dried herb arrangement. I spotted goldenrod, eucalyptus, clover, and angelica. All arranged in a willow basket. Abby wasn’t taking any chances—each one of the herbs, along with the basket made from willow, was to provide protection.

  I stole a quick look at Rick, and I could almost hear his urbane facade click back into place.

  “Abby, what a large arrangement,” I said. “Is that for here?”

  “Yes, dear, I thought you might need it.”

  Right, I bet she had the salt in her bag, and when my back was turned, it would be sprinkled all over our carpets.

  “You haven’t introduced me to your friend.”

  I grimaced. The inevitable had happened. “Abby, I’d like to introduce you to Rick Davis. Rick, my grandmother, Abigail McDonald.”

  “So, this is the nice young man I’ve been hearing about? I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Davis.” Abby shook his hand warmly.

  “Please, Mrs. McDonald, call me Rick,” he said, and turned on the charisma.

  I found an interesting spot to watch on the floor. I knew what Abby was going to do to him. He might have thought he was irresistible but wait till she finished with him. His brain would be scrambled for about five minutes.

  “You must call me Abby. I’ve wanted to meet you, Rick. I would like to thank you for rescuing my granddaughter that day in the woods. It was quite a shock for both of you. I’m so glad you were able to reach Bill and get help. I shudder to think what might have happened to her had you not been there.” She beamed at him.

  She could match Rick Davis any day when it came to charm.

  Rick turned to me. “Are you sure you’re related to Abby? She’s charming and friendly.”

  Yeah, you think she’s charming. You just wait, buster, she’s steel in a velvet glove. Instead of voicing my opinion, I raised my eyebrows and smiled sweetly at him. After all this man had put me through, I felt no sympathy for what was about to happen to him. Abby handed me the basket. Ah, here it comes.

  “Well, I really must go.” She leaned forward around the huge arrangement and gave me a peck on the cheek. When she turned to Rick, she extended her hand. The fool took it.

  “Rick, it was so nice to meet you.” Abby placed her other hand on top of their joined hands and stared at him purposefully.

  Rick’s eyes grew wide and his pupils dilated. I knew the energy from Abby’s hands was traveling up his arm, warming his skin and invading his mind. It only lasted a couple of seconds, then Abby dropped his hand. He swayed slightly when she released him. Shaking his head, he gazed at her, then at me, his eyes a little unfocused.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’d—I’d better go, too. Nice to meet you.”

  Abby and I watched Rick totter off, wobbling a little when he went out the door.

  “He’ll be okay in a few minutes. My, I hate doing that. It seems like such an invasion of a person’s privacy, but we had to know.”

  “Well?”

  “He’s not the one you seek this time, but he isn’t who he says he is. He, too, wears a mask, but there is no evil behind it. Maybe a little overconfidence, and a lot of determination.” Abby smiled. “But inside he’s a good man.”

  What did she mean by “this time”? I let the comment pass. He wasn’t the bad guy, so I could put my earlier thoughts to rest. I was amazed at my relief. Ever since I’d met him, I had tried to convince Rick, and myself, that I didn’t like him. Why should I be relieved he wasn’t the bad guy? And what did he mean by “You don’t know what you’re dealing with”?

  “What else did you see?”

  “You know how it is, jumbled thoughts, feelings. But should we be talking about this here? Why don’t we go to your office?”

  I walked to the counter and handed the arrangement to Darci.

  “Don’t ask,” I said to her as she took the basket. “Abby and I are going downstairs if you need anything.”

  “I’ll be okay. I don’t think we’ll be very busy today. Everyone seems pretty subdued,” she said, picking at the side of the basket.

  I lightly touched her hand. “Did you go by the Jones house last night?”

  “Yeah, I took over some food. Beth was resting, but I talked to Mike.”

  “Do they know what happened?”

  “Not for sure, but they’ve accepted the fact Doug was probably high on meth. They knew something was wrong. His grades were falling and he’d quit basketball. He had also been losing weight. They thought it was over some girl.” Her voice sounded thick, and she cleared her throat. “Doug was such a good kid, and he had such a bright future.”

  “Any idea where he got it?”

  “No. Everyone in town knows who the users are, but no one thinks they live next door to a meth lab. They think it’s all coming out of Des Moines, since it’s the largest city close to Summerset.”

  I nodded. “Just like they don’t think they live next door to a murderer.”

  “Exactly. All I know is this town has some real problems, and unless we want more dead kids, people need to quit burying their heads in the sand and take some action.” She paused. “By the way, I saw Rick leave. He looked funny. What was wrong with him?”

  “Abby read him. It always scrambles their brain a little when that happens.”

  “What did she find out?”

  “She didn’t tell me everything yet, but she did say he wasn’t one of the bad guys.”

  “Well, you must be relieved. It would have been hard on you, falling for a guy and then finding out he’s a criminal.”

  “I’m not falling for anyone.
We don’t even like each other,” I said emphatically.

  “Right.” She picked up the returned books. “Isn’t Abby waiting for you?”

  “Yeah. We’ll talk later, and I’ll fill you in.”

  When I entered my office, Abby was at the desk, in front of the computer, playing with the mouse.

  Her face wore a big smile while she used the mouse to swirl the cursor around the screen. “Ophelia, you must teach me how to use one of these. This is fascinating.”

  I laughed. “You’re right. Maybe I should. You’d love the Internet. But you have to promise me if I do teach you, you won’t become a computer junkie.”

  Abby continued staring at the monitor and the cursor as it darted back and forth.

  “So what did you learn from Rick?”

  She sat back, reluctantly letting go of the mouse, and folded her hands in her lap. “Like I said, he’s a good man, a little overconfident maybe. His driving force seems to be curiosity. He’s not from a small town.”

  “No kidding, I knew that without touching him. What else?” I asked, sitting on the corner of the desk.

  “He’s known success—one of the reasons for his confidence—but more is to come. He’s as involved as you are in what will happen and he shares your danger. I thought about warning him, but when the time comes, you’ll be together. You must trust him and protect each other.”

  “Hmm, he was warning me,” I said, stroking my chin.

  “What did you say?” Abby asked.

  “Nothing, nothing,” I said, returning my focus to her. “Did you see this danger?”

  “No, but it’s drawing closer, like a circle getting smaller and smaller. You and he are in the center of the circle.”

  Great, that was reassuring.

  “Now what about you? Did you learn anything last night when you sought your answers?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You have the look. I know you don’t like this, but you have to accept what you are. Once you do, you’ll find the peace you’ve been looking for.”

  “Abby, where’s the peace in knowing the pain waiting for others? You knew about Doug before Claire told us, didn’t you?”