Bait and Witch

by Angela M. Sanders

  He was game. The arm holding the clipboard dropped to his side. He closed his eyes. “I hear the wind in the oaks outside.”

  He was right. All around us leaves swished and fell to the ground. Lyndon would have his work raking cut out for him tomorrow. “What else?”

  “Someone upstairs is walking. Maybe checking out the local history section.”

  Again, nailed it. The organ wheezed into the “Pepper Pot Polka,” rattling the windows. Not even the books’ grumbling could overcome that.

  “I also hear Mrs. Garlington practicing for the Grange Hall dance,” he said. He removed a set of earplugs from his blazer’s inside pocket. “Want a pair?”

  I had to laugh. “Say, do you know anything about the Save Wilfred’s Youth group?”

  “I’ve seen their posters at school. Why?”

  “Who started the group? Any idea?”

  “You should know. A couple of them are library trustees. Duke McConway and another lady.”

  “Blond? Looks like she’s from the city?”

  “That’s her.” He screwed in the earplugs. “I’ll be in circulation if you need me to listen to anything else for you.”

  “Make sure you take those out before you talk to patrons,” I said.

  Duke and Ilona. I bet they started the group with the sole aim of making the library look bad. Before I left, I went to the window and looked down over the garden, past the caretaker’s cottage to Big House.

  Sam was at the edge of the garden, facing the library. He seemed strangely alone and small among the giant trees. An imaginary finger brushed my neck, and I shivered.

  What did Sam have to do with all this? He was involved. I was sure. But I didn’t know how.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  At last, the report was finished and tidily formatted with a table of contents and a cover I’d fashioned from office supplies left over from the disco era. Hopefully, the judge liked glitter purple. A digital copy was ready to be emailed. I had half an hour to spare.

  I grabbed the phone. “Darla, this is Josie. Can you review the library report quickly before I send it out?”

  “Honey,” she said, “I trust you. Roz said you’ve done good things.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked. “You don’t want to look it over?” I appreciated her trust but was surprised she’d let it go without at least a quick scan.

  “Positive. Send it to Judge Valade with my blessing.”

  The thing was, I wasn’t sure how to get it to the judge. The library didn’t have an Internet connection, and I didn’t even have my cell phone to set up a hot spot. Nor did I have a car.

  I grabbed the report and was making my way to Lyndon’s cottage to beg a ride into town when the front door opened with a creak. From the rat-a-tat-tat of heels, I knew it was Ilona Buckwalter before I even turned around. Dylan had left an hour ago. I had to make this quick.

  “You really should do something about that front door,” she said. “It sticks. Not that it will matter much longer, anyway.”

  The library didn’t want her here. A low grumble, almost a growl, rose throughout its rooms. “Can I help you?”

  “I understand you’re putting together some kind of report for the judge, trying to convince him that Wilfred needs the library.” Today Ilona wore a “duchess at the hunting lodge” outfit in green and blue plaid with high-heeled leather boots. Miniature foxhound earrings with emerald eyes jiggled as she walked.

  “Of course I am.” I held my laptop like a baby. “The judge should have all the information before making a decision on whether or not to throw out Darla’s appeal.”

  “He has all the information he needs.” She looked at me as if I were barely smart enough to spell my own name.

  “Then you won’t mind if I add my two cents.” The books’ grumbling had started up again.

  “I know you put a lot of work into that report, but I understand the judge has already made up his mind. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have a decision within the next couple of days.”

  I refused to be swayed. “How did you know about my report, anyway?”

  Ilona ignored me. She was too busy digging through her purse for her ringing phone. She tapped its screen, then dropped it back into her bag.

  “Sam told me.”

  My expression must have given me away. I’d seen him only a few hours ago looking up at the library. What did he know about the report? I supposed Darla might have told him. Or Duke.

  Judging from her smug expression, she was enjoying my surprise. “We keep in touch, you know. Old friends.”

  No matter how much Ilona irritated me, and despite her role as a trustee, I was still the librarian here. I mustered my dignity. “Thank you for checking on me. If you don’t mind, I’m busy right now.”

  She eyed my laptop. Her cackle was as sharp as a gun’s retort. “That’s the report, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll be going now.” I made for the side door through the kitchen.

  “Wait. How are you going to get it to the judge’s office? You don’t have Internet service.” She stepped forward. Now that she was closer, I made out tiny rifles lying at the dogs’ feet on her earrings. “Why don’t you let me drive you?”

  Oh no. No way was I getting in her Mercedes to be waylaid who knew where. “No, thank you.”

  Her expression softened, and she stepped back. “Honey, you’re in a tough spot. You’ve spent hours putting together a report the judge won’t look at for two minutes. I hate to think of all that wasted effort.”

  “Thank you for your concern.” I had my hand on the doorknob. I wasn’t falling for Ilona’s charm this time.

  “Darla hired you. Now you find out you won’t have a job. I told her we shouldn’t do it, we should just leave the library open part-time with Roz. She wouldn’t listen.”

  “All water under the bridge now. So, if you don’t mind—”

  “Darla’s the one you should be questioning. Think about it.” She tucked a platinum-blond hank of hair, stiff with styling gel, behind an ear. “She hired you and had you come all the way across the country, and she didn’t tell you the job might not last. That’s wrong.”

  “She’s fighting so hard to save the library.”

  “Darla?” She said it so loudly that I jumped back. “She wants the new retreat center more than anyone.”

  “That’s impossible. She’s printed notes on the bottom of the menus and everything. She loves the library.”

  “Really? And how many books has she checked out lately? Huh? In fact, have you ever seen her with a novel?”

  True, Darla hadn’t been one of the library’s patrons since I’d been in Wilfred, but that didn’t mean she’d never used it. I was just about to tell Ilona so, when she jabbed a pink frosted fingernail into the air.

  “She wants it both ways,” Ilona said. “She wants people in Wilfred convinced she cares about the library. Really, though, she’s a businesswoman. Think about it. With the retreat center, business at her diner will triple. She owns the plot of land behind the Magnolia Rolling Estates, and she can build guesthouses there. Her voice would matter in the county a lot more than it does now.”

  The truth in Ilona’s words didn’t match what I’d seen of Darla’s desire to keep the library alive, but it did stir my interest. However, I had no time to think about it now.

  “Ilona, the library is closing early today. We’ll see you soon. Good-bye.” Only fifteen minutes until the judge’s office closed. Maybe I could find an Internet connection in town. If I ran, I could be at the diner in five minutes. I was ready to knock on a stranger’s door, if necessary.

  “As a library trustee, I feel awful about having you come all the way across the country for a job that’s so short term.” She pulled an envelope from her purse’s side pocket. “I have a check here, made out to you. It’s enough money for you to live for a few months, if you’re frugal.”

  I felt the doorknob turn under my hand, and I yanked my fingers away. In walked Sam
Wilfred. He looked at me, then Ilona, his mouth going from frown to smile. Hadn’t Roz said he frowned when he was happy?

  “Ilona was just leaving.” I ignored the envelope in her outstretched hand until she shoved it back in her purse.

  “You won’t get this offer again,” she said, patting her purse’s side pocket.

  Any twinge of regret I might have felt was killed by her sheer odiousness. “Good-bye. Come again.” Not, I added silently.

  “I’ll see you at the trustees’ meeting tomorrow night.” She reluctantly left through the open door. I closed it behind her and turned to Sam. “Do you have a cell phone with you?”

  “Of course.” His frown deepened.

  Sam had voted for the retreat center, but I didn’t have time to go elsewhere. “I need a wi-fi hot spot. Right now.”

  If he was puzzled, he didn’t show it. “Got it.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  While the English as a second language class started in the conservatory, I settled into my office chair. It was already dark. Laughter and bits of stilted English came from the conservatory. The students—mostly farmworkers, judging from their sun-poached skin and roughened hands—had settled around the central table, lamplight reflecting on the room’s glass panels. Kevin, the grocer and English teacher, had handed around assignment sheets. Besides this group, the library was empty, lights turned off in every room except my office.

  The report had made it safely to the judge’s chambers. After I emailed it, I called to double-check that it was received, and I put the hard copy in the mail. All there was to do was to wait.

  Now would be the perfect time to call my sister. Dinner should be over, the baby in bed. I dialed 1-1-6-7 on the old rotary phone to block the caller ID and finished with Toni’s number. I pictured a pulse of light racing over thousands of miles of telephone line, ricocheting off exchanges to sound at Toni’s house in Silver Spring, with the crickets chirping and fireflies drawing circles in the night.

  “Josie?” she said.

  My whole body swelled with happiness to hear her voice. “Toni. How are you? How’s the baby?”

  “Never mind that. It’s been two days. I was worried.”

  “How’s my apartment? Anything else from the FBI?” I kept my voice low.

  “No. Nothing. I just checked with the landlord today. How are things on your end?”

  “I’m safe, if that’s what you mean. There are complications—”

  “Complications?”

  “Nothing having to do with Bondwell or Richard White. But unless something changes, I might have to leave here soon.”

  “Come home,” Toni said.

  “I can’t. You know that.”

  Rodney, ever the master of surprise appearances, was rubbing his chin against my chair. Seemingly weightless, he leapt into my lap. My birthmark sparked.

  “Tell me,” Toni commanded. “You don’t have to tell me where you are, but tell me what’s happening.”

  I contemplated this. Maybe I could tell her just a bit. She couldn’t trace me to Wilfred.

  “Okay. I took a job at an obscure library. The next day I found out that the library is probably going to be demolished within the month. That is, if a couple of the library trustees have their way.” Toni didn’t need to hear about the body I’d found in the bushes, although I longed to tell her.

  “What? Why would the library’s own trustees want to tear it down?”

  “One of them’s a real estate agent, and she makes a bundle if she can sell the land for a retreat center.” I let out a sigh. “It’s not fair.”

  “I know that tone of voice. Trouble.”

  “People here love the library. It’s a community center. The trustees—the ones who want the sale, that is—say there’s a lot of criminal activity here, but it’s not true. The pro-library trustees have sued the others to stop the demolition, and the first trustees have petitioned the judge to throw the suit out of court. I just sent the judge a report in support of the library.”

  “Criminal activity? Oh, Josie. I’d feel so much better if you’d tell me where you are. What if something happens? How would we ever find you?”

  “It’s better like this.” Rodney bumped his head against the phone’s receiver. I dropped a hand to scratch him between the ears. “You can help me another way, though. As a physician.”

  “How?” she said almost before I’d finished my sentence. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “It’s a little difficult. You see, I—”

  “Spit it out.”

  “I’m starting to wonder if there’s something weird with my brain.” I’d wanted to talk this over with her the last time I’d called, but news of the break-in at my apartment had cut it short.

  The line was silent. Rodney’s purr vibrated against my torso.

  “What do you mean? I haven’t noticed anything unusual. I mean, other than disappearing like you did.”

  “I told you I’d been dreaming again, right? Well, I also have a strange relationship with the books here.”

  A relieved laugh escaped Toni. “You’ve always had a strange relationship with books. A dedicated relationship, anyway. You were the only kid I knew who preferred books about dolls to the dolls themselves.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” How to explain it? “It’s like the books talk to me. Books I swear I haven’t ever seen tell me what shelf they’re on. You know how I worked in cataloguing?”

  “Sure. You always wanted to work with readers instead.”

  “It turns out I’m a freaking genius at it. For instance, right now I want to recommend a book to you.”

  “Okay.” I knew that voice. She was humoring me.

  “Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management. Page sixty-two, how to remove fruit stains from cotton.”

  “Whoa.” Rodney’s purr obscured everything but Toni’s voice through the wire. “I was eating yogurt and jelly this afternoon and got apricot jam on my scrubs. I was just wondering how I was going to get it out.”

  “See? Isn’t that weird? How was I supposed to know that? Plus, I’ve never heard of the Mrs. Beeton book. But I bet you anything I was right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Or what’s right with me. My voice broke. Rodney buried his head in my cardigan.

  “Don’t be upset, Josie.” When we were girls, Toni was the one who would pull me up when I fell off my bike. Even though she was only a few years older than I, she soothed me like a parent. “Maybe it’s the stress.”

  Leaves, driven by a soft wind, shushed against the glass, and the casement window rattled. The moon would be creeping higher, I knew, and soon stars I’d never seen through the smog out east would pierce the night.

  “No. It’s more than that. I’m not even telling you some of the creepier things. I’ve had actual books appear at my bedside. No one else could have put them there.” Now I really did feel like a child. I wanted to have a three-handkerchief humdinger of a cry. I hadn’t felt this way since I was a kid.

  “I’ve never talked to anyone about this before, but I want to tell you something,” Toni said.

  I sniffed and reached for a tissue. “Just a sec.” I blew my nose and deftly tossed the tissue into the wastebasket. Rodney let me jiggle his head as I did so and kept close to me. “Okay.”

  “Remember how much time Grandma spent in the garden?”

  “Yes.” An odd turn of conversation.

  “I think she was a witch.”

  This should have shocked me. I should have shouted, “What?” But strangely, I wasn’t surprised. It didn’t take more than a moment to recover and say, “Oh.”

  “Remember that book she kept in the kitchen?”

  “The big leather one? The one with the papers and dried flowers sticking out of it?” The book, fatter than the cookbook Grandma made her casseroles from, occupied the kitchen’s top shelf where we girls couldn’t get at it. As a book lover, I’d always been fascinated by it. I even asked Mom where it went after Grandma died,
and she’d acted like she hadn’t heard me.

  “Yeah. That one. I think it was her grimoire—her witch’s diary.”

  Get the book. This book is yours. I squeezed my eyes shut against the voices. Rodney gave my wrist a single lick.

  “But Grandma went to church every Sunday,” I said. “How could she be a witch?”

  Toni sighed. “I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this. One night—I must have been only ten or so—we were staying the night at Grandma’s, and I woke up.”

  As Toni talked, I felt the warmth of Grandma’s house again, with cats popping in and out of the cat door, bunches of dried herbs hanging in the kitchen, and a stack of quilts in the living room, waiting to be pulled up for story time. Grandma had always laid us out in the living room in sleeping bags. Sometimes Jean, the baby, snuck out and crawled into bed with her.

  “Yes?”

  “I went to the kitchen for a drink of water, and I saw Grandma in the garden. The moon was bright, must have been full. She was out there picking plants, and I swear I saw her lips moving, but there was no one around. She’d stop and listen, then talk. The strangest thing.”

  Thinking of Roz, I said, “Maybe she had hot flashes and couldn’t sleep.”

  “The next day she was bottling up plants in liquid and labeling them for the neighbors. Remember how the minister’s wife used to come for a tincture when she had allergies?”

  I did remember. She hadn’t been the only one, either. The farmer down the road had used to brag he’d grown a full head of hair after a course of Grandma’s compresses. The first grade teacher had come to her for help stopping an outbreak of chicken pox. At Grandma’s funeral, a neighbor even whispered she’d been responsible for bringing home her wayward husband.

  “I thought—I don’t know—I guess I thought she simply knew a lot about folk remedies.” I leaned back in my chair. “I was talking to someone here today about magic. She thinks magic is simply people seeing what they want to see.”

  “Some of it might be. In medicine we studied the placebo effect. I guess that’s a sort of magic.”