5 Beewitched (22 page)

Darn, she was cashing in her one and only chip!

“I remember perfectly fine,” I muttered, then said to Greg, “I’m not sure how I could be of any assistance.”

“As much as I don’t want to admit it, I guess it must’ve been one of the witches who stabbed my aunt to death,” he said. “And Dad thinks whoever did it planted that pentacle inside his house to frame him.”

I really hated to remind Greg of one very important, damning detail, but facts are facts. “Greg, his fingerprints were all over it!”

But Greg wasn’t deterred by that. “You’re already close to the witches. They trust you.”

“No, they don’t.”

“If this involves fraternizing with those witches,” Patti said, throwing in her unsolicited two cents, “we’ll have to pass on the case. Story already has serious damage from her last association with them.”

I turned to her. “If you continue to fear them,” I advised her, “that fear will consume you. Nobody can harm you unless you believe they can. So get over it.”

I wasn’t sure what I meant by those words of wisdom, but they sure sounded good.

Patti glared. I glared right back. But my mind was on Country Delight Farm and what might happen to Al and his property if he stayed in jail.

In spite of evidence to the contrary, I still believed that Al Mason was an upstanding member of our community. He always reached out to those less fortunate, taking excess crops to the food pantry, inviting classrooms filled with kids to tour the farm, showing up with his toolbox when a neighbor needed to repair a fence. At least I could poke around a little, do my part for him the way he’d done for me and others in the past.

“What can you tell me about your aunt?” I asked, deciding to remain alert and cautious around Greg even while soliciting information from him. “Somebody said something about a man in her life at one time.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Greg said.

“I don’t, either, but humor me.”

Greg thought about that. “Aunt Claudene was very private about her personal life. Although . . . there was a rumor, but I really wasn’t paying attention at the time.”

Okay, now we were getting somewhere. “Go on.”

“Something about an inquest. The family shushed it up. Nobody would talk about it, though, and I guess I was so busy with my own life that I didn’t get any more details.”

“Inquest?” Patti said, suddenly all ears. Then to me, “That means a judge and jury were trying to determine how and why a person died. That means it was a suspicious death.”

“I know what it means,” I said, which was sort of true.

“Now that’s something I could get my teeth into,” Patti said.

“All right,” I told Greg, making my decision. “Tell Al I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not making any promises.”

“That’s all he’s asking.”

“I’m in, too,” Patti said. “
We
will see what we can do.”

Just for good measure, I added, “What if everything leads back to your dad?”

“Then we’ll have to accept that.”

After Greg left, customers began arriving, some walking up the street, others parking in front. I smiled to myself, glad to see how the store was becoming an integral part of their daily routines. Especially since last month when my smart manager Carrie Ann had suggested adding a coffee station to the store’s offerings so locals could stop for a cup of coffee on their way to work.

My smile faded when I realized I couldn’t give Patti the boot quite yet. Here we were, back at square one, thanks to a sudden appearance by the accused man’s son. I was stuck.

“What was the name of that boy who was the focus of a love potion?” I demanded.

“You aren’t going to believe it.”

“Try me.”

“The boy Iris was all gaga over was Stanley,” she said. “Stanley Peck.”

Patti was right. I hadn’t expected to hear Stanley’s name. My fellow beekeeper and aging friend had had girls chasing after him? Somehow I’d forgotten that he was young once. Stanley Peck? But I played it cool, no jaw slamming open or wide-eyed stare. All I said was, “You follow up on that inquest and meet me back here later.”

Patti’s eyes narrowed. “Stay away from that evil den of witches.”

“I’m working at the store all day,” I lied. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on getting information that will clear Al’s good name.”

Twenty-four

Not surprisingly, the locals were completely “up in
arms” about our latest town visitors and the so-called wickedness they were spreading around Moraine. It wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning, yet here they were, all fired up and ready for a shootout. And as usual, Lori Spandle, the biggest troublemaker on the planet, was leading the pack.

I hung out with Carrie Ann at the checkout register, keeping an eye on Lori, who had a group gathered around the coffeepots. Lots of bad karma was in the air.

“Ew,” Aurora said, coming in behind them. She was back to her normal self (if you could call Aurora normal) with her hair back in a ponytail instead of free falling. “Where did all the negative energy in your store come from, Story? What’s going on?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but Lori has something to do with it.”

“Witch hunt,” Carrie Ann told her.

“Last I checked,” Aurora said, a bit loudly, “we weren’t in Salem. And this isn’t the sixteen hundreds.”

“Pact with the devil,” I heard someone say.

“The mark of the devil will be on their buttocks,” someone else announced. “We could check.”

Aurora went a shade lighter than normal and her mouth shut in a firm, tight line.

“One of them has two pupils in each eye.”

“Some of ’em can change forms. I saw one change into a black cat right before my eyes.”

“They put a spell on Al, made him do their dirty work.”

Oh geez, there’s nothing worse than a pack of animals. Most critters are perfectly fine one-on-one, but just get them in a gang of others of their kind and they go berserk, acting out in ways they’d never consider on their own. Humans aren’t a bit different than coyotes or wolves. I’d seen the same thing when Lori once led a mob over to my beeyard thinking she’d eliminate my honeybees. If Stanley Peck hadn’t been around to fire a shot overhead, who knows what would have happened.

Where was Stanley, anyway? I really hoped he was on the schedule and soon, too. I needed to grill him about Iris. Not to mention that I might need backup.

“Is Stanley working today?” I asked Carrie Ann, watching Aurora fade down the least populated aisle of the store, the one where vegan products were shelved.

Carrie Ann nodded and glanced at the clock over the entry door. “He should be here any minute.”

“Salt.” They were still at it. “Sprinkle it around your doors and windows. They can’t cross it.”

“Turn a broom upside down next to your door and they can’t enter.”

Carrie Ann and I exchanged eye-rolls.

Some wiseacre piped up and made a suggestion. “Don’t even own any brooms, that’s the best way to stay safe. Vacuum instead. Throw your brooms out with the trash. That way they won’t have any reason to break in and steal from you.”

“Lord knows who will be next!”

“We have to take action!” Lori shouted, sensing the building of serious momentum.

I jumped in and addressed the ringleader. “One more yell in my store, Lori, and I’m kicking you out. Plus, you have no business instigating a mob in here.”

“They brew up black magic in a cauldron,” another gang member added. “Over a blazing fire. Then they dance wild around it. Naked!”

At least that stretch of the imagination had some semblance of truth to it. Okay, maybe a lot of truth. But really, I hadn’t seen any magic brewing in a pot.

Lori’s followers were getting worked up good. “Their master is a goat,” I actually heard one of them say.

Well, weren’t we descending into madness now?

Aurora’s complexion when she came to the register to check out had gone fifty shades of pale. Which surprised me. She’d lived in Moraine long enough to witness enough displays of insanity that she should be more or less immune by now. Although this time things were much closer to home for her.

“Goats?” I scoffed from the register. “You have to be kidding!”

Nobody paid any attention.

“So that’s why they’re out at Al’s,” some dim bulb said. “His goat is the reason.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Aurora said, breaking her silence. She opened her mouth to expand on that. But so many glares shot at her, she’d be dead and gone if those had been bullets. She shut right up.

“They bewitched Al,” Lori said. “And you, too, Aurora. Who knows who will be next?”

“That’s what he gets for inviting them onto his farm in the first place.”

“He didn’t know what they were,” I said to a whole lot of closed minds. Then realized my comment didn’t exactly make me any better. “I mean,” I amended, “he wouldn’t have cared if he knew.” Which wasn’t a bit true. Geez, what a narrow-minded bunch.

Everybody was really worked up at this point, ready to take the matter into their collective hands.

“I know what will scare those witches out of town,” I called out in one last attempt to diffuse the situation. “And it’s guaranteed, or your money back. Trust me, they’ll run away for good.”

Aurora gave me a confused look.

“Tell us!” Everybody wanted to know, all excited because I was joining their side, and (even better) I had a plan. Lori was the only one who looked ticked off that I was interfering.

So here it was. “The secret to rid the town of them once and for all is with great big displays of ignorance and intolerance.”

Aurora’s puzzlement turned into pleasure. She was the only one who got my sarcasm right away, followed by Carrie Ann.

The rest stared at me, and for a split second I thought at least a few of them understood what I was trying to tell them. Then Lori waved my comment aside. “Ignore her. She’s been seen with them. She’s as brainwashed as Al. Let’s go out to the farm and run the whole lot of them out of town the good old-fashioned way.”

I tried one more tactic. “The corn maze opens in less than an hour. You can’t interfere with Al’s business. You’ll destroy it.”

But nobody heard me. They made a unified rush for the door just as Stanley opened it. They almost trampled him.

“What the hay?” Stanley said, after he’d dodged the stampede.

“They’re all going out to confront the witches,” Carrie Ann told him. “Things are going to get ugly.”

“Lori Spandle is a danger to this town,” he said. “Should we call Grant? See if he can talk sense into her?”

“Her husband can’t control her,” I told him.

Aurora looked absolutely shell-shocked. “I’ve never seen them like this,” she muttered.

While helplessly watching the mob head out to do damage, my animosity toward the coven vanished. I still believed that one of them might be responsible for Rosina’s death, but I couldn’t hate and fear all of them just because of one bad apple in the apple orchard, just because their beliefs were different than mine, or my family’s, or the entire town’s for that matter.

I’ve seen examples of this collective mentality my whole life, both in Moraine and in Milwaukee when I lived there during college. Population size doesn’t matter. Unfortunately intolerance and bigotry know no boundaries between nations, races, genders, or the size of a community. So the concept of small-town mentality is all rubbish in my book. Sometimes I think the whole world has come unhinged.

With a clearer understanding of my own need for improvement (even if the others didn’t get it), I called my man. He actually picked up.

“Hey, sweet thing,” he said, all cheery and upbeat.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time for sweet talk. Worse, I was about to destroy his good mood. “A lynch mob led by Lori Spandle is on the way out to the farm,” I told him. “And I’m afraid for the campers. Lori has fired up at least twenty of the locals, maybe more.” I’d seen a few gawkers outside the door when Lori made her exit. She’d enlist them, too. “Call out the guards.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “The women out there have been cleared to leave today, but I doubt they’re gone yet. Thanks for the tip.”

And he was off. Good. If it came to a verbal argument between Lori and Lucinda, the witch would chew up Lori and spit her out. But if it turned physical, Lori had plenty of backup.

“I’m going out to the farm,” I told Carrie Ann.

“I’m going with you,” Stanley said.

Stanley is a good man to have around in times of trouble. He doesn’t tolerate fools.

Carrie Ann looked around the almost empty store. “I can handle things here by myself,” she said. “Apparently most of Moraine is out on this witch hunt. Get going.”

I glanced at Aurora. “You might want to send one of your special telegraphs to the witches,” I told her. “Tell them to get out of town now.”

Just then, my sister sashayed in. “I’m getting a manicure and my hair done for the wedding. Want me to ask for an appointment for you, too?”

I brushed past her. “Whatever,” I called back to Ms. Oblivious. Like I cared about my nails and hair at the moment. Sometimes, I’m convinced I was adopted into the Fischer family.