Witch Way to Murder

by Shirley Damsgaard

  Before Rick reached the truck, it lit out, tires spinning and rubber smoking. His hands gripped the steering wheel while he followed.

  “Can you see the license plate?” Rick asked.

  “No. Be careful, there’s a sharp curve coming up.”

  The speedometer registered seventy. We lost sight of the taillights when Rick negotiated the curve. We saw them again about a mile ahead of us. Rick pushed on the gas pedal and I grasped the door. The truck made a quick turn onto a gravel road. Rick followed, but the car’s tires skidded when they hit the gravel. The next thing I knew we were cruising sideways down the road with the ditch getting closer and closer. Rick’s hands clung to the wheel while he tried to steer the car out of the spin. I saw the tall weeds fly by my window while the car continued to slide.

  I closed my eyes and prayed.

  The car skidded to a halt, the left front tire almost over the edge of the ditch. We were now headed in the opposite direction, facing the corner we’d turned. The truck was long gone.

  Rick slowly backed up the car until we were once again on the road. He shifted to park and turned in his seat to look at me.

  “Are you okay?”

  “You mean other than I think my heart’s stopped?”

  Rick reached out—he didn’t hesitate this time. He took my shaking hand and brought it to his lips. Turning it over, he placed a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist. Well, at least I now knew my heart hadn’t stopped—it was thumping in my chest.

  Then it was over. Rick had both hands on the wheel and was staring straight ahead.

  “You’re something else, Ophelia Jensen. No hysterics for you. I’m sorry. That was stupid, and I could’ve gotten us killed.”

  This time I was the one who touched him. I laid my hand gently on his arm. It must have shocked him; his eyes widened. I removed my hand quickly. If it lingered, I might see things I didn’t want to see.

  “It’s okay, Rick. We made it. You did a good job keeping the car out of the ditch, but I think we’d better get back to town.”

  “Yeah. When we get to your house, I want you to pack. I’m taking you to Abby’s. You’re not staying alone tonight.”

  I resented his tone. “Now wait a second. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  He stared at me. “You have two choices—either spend the night with Abby or with me. Pick.”

  “Abby’s,” I said, and turned my head toward the side window.

  At my house, Rick followed me like a bodyguard from room to room while I gathered my things. He even followed me up the stairs. I held up my hand and stopped him at the door to my bedroom.

  “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not coming in here.”

  “Why? Afraid I’ll search your drawers like you searched mine? Remember handling my boxers?”

  “Trust me, Rick, it wasn’t that big a thrill,” I said with a wink and pointed to the floor. “Stay out here.”

  “What if someone’s in there?”

  “I’ll scream, then you can come rushing in and save me.”

  “You’re no fun. Did I happen to mention you look very nice tonight, Ophelia?” he asked, tilting his head and putting a shoulder against the wall.

  “What is it with you?” I stared at him in exasperation. “You get near a woman and a bedroom and the charm clicks on like a lightbulb?”

  He winked at me.

  “Oh, knock it off,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You can stand in the doorway, but don’t you dare come in.”

  I grabbed my backpack and stuffed a clean nightgown and clothes in. Rick leaned against the door frame, watching me.

  “Any idea who was in the truck?” he asked.

  “Probably the same guy who sent me the note.” I crossed to the bathroom for the rest of my stuff.

  “What note?”

  I jumped when I looked up and saw Rick’s reflection staring at me in the mirror.

  “You were supposed to stay in the doorway.”

  “To hell with that. I asked you, what note?”

  “No need to lose your temper.” I quickly tossed my toothbrush and toothpaste in the bag. “Ummm. Didn’t I mention the note?” I said giving him a stealthy look.

  His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were narrowed. “No, you did not mention the note. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “I can’t even remember what day it was now.” I hesitated, tapping my finger on my chin. “Wait. It was the day after I searched your room. That afternoon I found a note on my desk at the library. Do you want to see it?”

  “Yes, I want to see it,” Rick said, his voice tight.

  I unzipped the side of the pack, removed the note and handed it to him. His jaw clenched while he read it.

  “Nice. Did you tell Bill or Alan?” he asked when he handed it back to me.

  “No, what would I tell them? I don’t know who did this. At first I suspected you. It could be a prank, but after what I found in Abby’s woods, probably not.”

  “What did you find in Abby’s woods?” Rick was beginning to sound mad again.

  “I don’t know what it was, some kind of trip wire. When I caught my ankle on it, it set off this smoke thing.”

  “Was the smoke colored?”

  “Yes, yellow.”

  “Smoke grenade.”

  “What’s a smoke grenade?”

  “I’ll explain later. Did you find anything else?”

  “Just some kind of brass casings. I found them when I fell.”

  “Do you still have them?”

  “Yes. I suppose you want to see those, too.”

  “Uh-huh. I sure do.”

  I reached back in the bag and handed those to him. He rolled them carefully around in his palm.

  “Mind if I keep these?”

  “No, do you know what they are?” I asked.

  “Not for sure, but I know someone who will. You have any other surprises in that bag of yours?”

  “No, just the matches. Do you want those?”

  “No, keep them. I imagine your bag is probably the safest place for them. And speaking of surprises, is there anything else? Anything at all you haven’t told me?”

  “Why, no,” I said, and bent to rummage in my bag. If I met Rick’s stare, he would know I was lying.

  It didn’t work. He knew anyway. He yanked on my arm and spun me around.

  “Ophelia, if there is anything else, you’d better tell me. These guys are not fooling around. Keeping a secret this time could get you killed.”

  “I’m not keeping a secret,” I said, pulling back. “If you’re done lecturing me now, could we go? I don’t want to keep Abby up all night.”

  Rick followed me silently down the stairs. I loaded Queenie in the cat carrier and Rick put Lady in the backseat. If it wasn’t safe for me—it wasn’t safe for them. In spite of Rick’s protests, I refused to leave them.

  I knew he was angry. His face was rigid and he clenched and unclenched his jaw. All the way to Abby’s. The tension between us was almost solid. When we pulled in the drive, I saw every light on in Abby’s house. She stood on the front porch, a shawl wrapped tightly around her.

  She ran down the steps as soon as Rick stopped the car. The door was jerked open, and in an instant Abby held my hands firmly in hers. I felt the power in the hands that gripped mine. Her strength flowed into me.

  Rick stood behind us. I didn’t have to see his face to know that the strange scene puzzled him, but I knew Abby didn’t care. She put her arm around me and guided me to the house, leaving Rick to deal with the dog, the cat, and my bag.

  We were in the kitchen when he walked in. His face was still a rigid mask.

  “What was that all about outside?”

  Abby was near the stove, pouring the tea. “Never mind. Here’s a cup of tea. It will help.”

  “That’s Abby’s remedy for everything. Tea.”

  She joined us at the table. “The truck was stolen, you know.”

  “By who?” I asked, and ble
w on my tea.

  “I don’t know.” She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I couldn’t see a face.”

  I gave a long sigh and scowled. “You know, Abby, it would be helpful if for once you could see a face.”

  Rick’s eyes moved first to Abby, then to me, and back to Abby. He reminded me of someone watching a tennis match.

  “Excuse me if I interrupt, but what are you two talking about? She saw the truck? How could she see the truck?”

  Rick’s eyebrows drew together while he thought about it. He surveyed the kitchen, taking in the drying herbs, the crystals glowing in the light of the burning candles. I saw the dawn of realization light his eyes.

  Twenty-four

  “Well, I’ll be damned. She’s a witch, isn’t she?” he said, his eyes wide while he scanned the kitchen.

  “How do you know about witches?” I asked, suddenly wary.

  “A friend of mine did a story for the paper about New Age stuff.” Rick looked at Abby. “Wiccan?”

  “No, I follow the path of my mother and her mother before her.”

  Rick looked pointedly at me.

  “Oh no, don’t look at me,” I said, waving my hands. “I don’t believe in this stuff. This is Abby’s thing, not mine.”

  Rick watched Abby while she sat at the table. “If it’s not Wiccan, what is it?”

  “It’s hard to explain. Some might call it sympathetic or white magick, but I think that’s too simplistic. It’s a seeing in your mind, looking beyond the physical. It’s an understanding of nature and the world around you. Every thing, every place, has energy, a power—some more than others. I’m just a conduit for that power, to pull it inside me and send it back out. The power isn’t me. It’s there with or without me.”

  “Are you clairvoyant, too?”

  Abby smiled and nodded. “I suppose that doesn’t shock you?”

  “No, I know a couple psychics in Minneapolis. The police force uses them some of the time. They deny it, of course.”

  I didn’t think it was the best conversation for Abby to be having with a journalist.

  “I suppose now you’re going to do a big exposé and tell a secret that Abby’s kept all of her life?” The bitterness in my voice sounded harsh, even to me.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Think of the papers it would sell. That’s your job, isn’t it, selling papers?”

  “No. It’s not. I like to think my job is to find the truth. And I think we have more pressing matters than me blowing Abby’s secret wide open. Like what’s going on around here, and what you know that has someone scared.”

  “But I don’t know anything,” I protested.

  I stopped and tried to convince myself I was telling the truth. I didn’t know anything. I knew about dreams, evil circles, men wearing masks, but I couldn’t tell Rick about them without sounding crazy. So I had to lie. Looking at Abby, I pleaded silently for her help.

  Her look said, “You’re on your own.”

  Thanks, Abby.

  I shifted my attention back to Rick. “Really. I’ve told you everything,” I said with fake sincerity.

  “Maybe the answer is in the woods?” Rick said, more to himself than me. And I could almost see the wheels turning while he processed the information he had. “There has to be something you’re missing. Think, Ophelia—”

  At last Abby intervened. “I don’t think anyone will solve anything tonight. I suggest both of you go to bed. Rick, you’re welcome to stay here if you want. I have plenty of room. Tomorrow Ophelia can show you what she found in the woods.”

  The next morning, the smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon tickled my senses. I glanced at the window and saw the pale November sun hanging just above the horizon. Wrapping the quilt around me, I went to the window. The sky was heavy with low hanging clouds. In the distance I could see the woods, standing dark against the gray sky.

  I dressed quickly and hurried down the stairs, hoping to talk to Abby before Rick made an appearance. The voices coming from the kitchen told me I was too late.

  Rick sat at the table with Queenie curled in a tight ball in his lap, as if he belonged there. Abby was at the stove, turning the bacon. What a homey scene. It irritated me. Rick Davis—Delaney, I reminded myself—seemed to be infiltrating my life. The whole idea made me uncomfortable.

  “Good morning, Ophelia. Did you sleep well?” she asked while she flipped the bacon onto a plate.

  “Yes, I did,” I replied, and put a hand on my hip. “What was in the tea, Abby?”

  “Oh, just a little chamomile. I thought after all the excitement, you and Rick could both use a good night’s sleep.”

  Rick’s eyes slid to mine and he smiled. “Abby has been telling me about her childhood in Appalachia. And I managed to wrangle an invitation for Thanksgiving dinner from her.”

  I didn’t return the smile. He didn’t need to hear stories of my grandmother’s childhood. And he didn’t need to spend Thanksgiving with us. Rick Delaney, with his easy charm and his warm brown eyes, was getting close, too close, to breaking down my defenses. When this was all over, he would go back to his world and I would stay in mine. All connection between us would be broken, but I didn’t want my heart to be broken with it.

  I crossed to the coffeepot and poured a cup. Leaning against the counter, I eyed Rick. “Don’t you think we should get started? I do have to go to work today. It’s okay if I’m a little late, but I can’t spend all day tromping around the woods with you.”

  “What’s your problem this morning?”

  “Hmmm, let’s see—someone is watching my house, your room was searched and you were knocked unconscious, we found a dead body lying on the riverbank, someone is stealing anhydrous and probably running a meth lab around here somewhere. And something weird is going on in the woods. Other than that, Rick, I guess I don’t have one.”

  “Boy, are you always this cross in the morning?”

  “Oh, shut up. Could we just please get this over with?”

  Rick shoved his chair back from the table. “Okay, let’s go, then. Abby, thank you for your hospitality.”

  He jerked his jacket off the back of the chair and stomped out the door. Queenie, deprived of her resting place, gave me an injured look. The look on Abby’s face matched the cat’s. Shaking my head at both of them, I followed Rick outside.

  He was at the edge of the woods by the time I caught up with him.

  “There’s no need to run, you know,” I said, trying to catch my breath.

  “I thought you were in a hurry,” he replied, not looking at me.

  “Look, I’m sorry if I made you mad, but—”

  Rick stopped and turned on me. “You know, you amaze me. Whenever I think we’re finally developing some sort of a friendship, you suddenly treat me like one of the bad guys. Don’t you ever get tired of being so cold?”

  The sudden tears I felt surprised me. I was not cold. I just didn’t want him worming his way into my life any more than he already had. I lowered my head so Rick wouldn’t see the tears. I didn’t need to bother; when I raised it, he was already entering the woods.

  I don’t know if it was Rick’s silence while we walked or something else, but today the woods felt ominous. Not friendly and welcoming at all. The air felt charged with an angry force. A damp cold breeze seemed to snake around our legs as we trudged over the leaves and fallen branches. The only sound was our footsteps, and the chill cut through my jacket. I shivered and hunched my shoulders, trying to block it.

  At the pace Rick set, we reached the spot where I had found the trip wire quickly.

  “There,” I said, pointing to the tree.

  He studied the spot. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure you’ve got the right tree? There’s a lot of them around here.”

  “Ha ha. No, I’m sure that’s the right tree. I spent most of my childhood roaming around these woods. I know where I am.”

  He knelt to examine the base of the tree.
r />   “I don’t see any wire. The bark looks fine…no, wait a second—you said the smoke was yellow?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here, right here—the bark’s got a spot on it. And it’s yellow.” He rubbed at the tree.

  We both heard it at the same time—the loud snap of a branch breaking.

  “You two are out kind of early, aren’t you?” a familiar voice said.

  Great, the sheriff had joined us.

  “Bill. You startled me. What are you doing out here?”

  “Abby asked me to keep an eye on the woods, said she thought she had trespassers.”

  “She never told me she planned on talking to you.”

  “Your grandmother’s an independent woman. Bet she does a lot of things she doesn’t tell you about.”

  Bill was right about that, but I found it hard to believe she would have talked to him without telling me about it.

  Rick crossed to where Bill and I stood.

  “Bill, I’ve been trying to call you,” he said, “but you never seem to be there. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re dodging me.”

  “We’re conducting a murder investigation, Rick. I don’t have time to answer a lot of questions,” he replied, his tone serious.

  “I know. Just one. And it won’t take much time. Any idea yet who the dead man is?”

  “Nope, still waiting.”

  “How much longer will it be before you find out?”

  “You sure do like to ask questions, don’t you?” Bill said, and looked down at his boots. “To answer you—don’t know. And once we do find out, I can’t tell you till we track down the guy’s family. You ought to know that.” He raised his eyes and met Rick’s straight on. “But you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here this time of day?”

  “Just out for a morning walk,” Rick replied, his voice casual.

  “I see. Like I said, kind of early, isn’t it?” Bill asked, his eyes never leaving Rick’s face.

  “Ophelia has to go to work and wanted to take a hike before she left. She’s been complaining about not getting enough exercise.”

  I would just as soon that Rick had kept me out of his bullshit session. They were both lying through their teeth to each other. And they both knew it.