The Witch is Dead (14 page)

I grasped the edge of the counter. “It wasn’t a date,” I exclaimed. “Christopher knew Mr. Buchanan, so he came to his funeral. It was a coincidence that we ran into each other—”

“Abby says there’s no such a thing as coincidence,” she replied in a smug voice, interrupting me.

“Well, this time it was,” I said, shoving back from the counter. “And, before you say it, there’s no mystery brewing, either, Darce. Aunt Dot tripped as we were leaving the cemetery and hit her arm on a headstone. Her wrist broke.”

She opened her mouth, but I held up a finger, stopping her.

“Christopher specializes in geriatrics, so he helped the emergency room doctor treat Aunt Dot. End of story.”

Darci cocked her hip and watched me with a speculative gleam in her eye. “Did you get a date?”

I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling. “You are impossible. My ninety-one-year-old aunt was in the emergency room, for Pete’s sake…not exactly a time for romance,” I finished and busied myself with the stack of books sitting on the counter.

Darci strolled over, took the books away from me, and walking over to Gert, handed them to her. “Here,” she said, “why don’t you place these on the shelves, Gert? I’ve showed you how.” She wagged a finger at her. “Remember, we can’t let them pile up.”

I snickered. Like that ever mattered to Darci in the past. She hated putting books away and was notorious about letting them sit gathering dust on the counter.

She returned to where I stood, leaned back and crossed her arms. “Okay, so if he didn’t ask you out while you were at the hospital, when did he?”

“Ahh…” I felt the heat creep up my neck and into my face. “Last night, after we returned home, he called,” I muttered.

“I knew it,” she said, smacking her hand on the countertop. “Good. You need to get out.”

Frowning, I picked up the pens lying scattered about and returned them to the cup holder. “I don’t know…there’s a
lot of stuff going on right now.”

She quickly checked over her shoulder to see if Gert was still occupied filing the books. Satisfied, she pulled me off to the side, out of Gert’s line of vision.

At the same time, I noticed Edna Walters lurking near the counter. She pretended to study the back cover of a paperback, but even from where I stood, I saw she held the book upside down.

Darci spotted Edna, too, and tugged me back to the far corner.

“What happened Saturday night?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“You know about that, too?”

With a jerk of her head, she motioned toward Edna. “She’s here now, and Agnes was in earlier. All morning the town gossips have been circling the library, waiting to pounce on you.” Her eyes traveled to Edna, who was easing her way closer to where we stood. “If I were you, I’d spend most of the day in your office.”

“What’s the rumor going around?” I asked with a grimace.

“A skull was found at your campsite. Georgia tried pumping Alan about it, but for once he won’t talk.”

“I wonder if Bill knows he’s got a major leak in his office, thanks to Alan?”

“Who cares—tell me what happened,” Darci insisted.

I pulled a hand through my hair. “T.P. fetched a skull out of the woods. That’s it.”

“What does the skull have to do with Buchanan’s murder?” she asked with eyes narrowed, as if she thought I was holding out on her.

“Nothing,” I said, spreading my hands wide. “It’s probably the remains of some poor soul who died in the woods. And the death doesn’t have to be something sinister. Maybe
it’s a hunter who died in a hunting accident. Maybe an elderly person wandered off. Maybe an indigent died from the elements.”

“But no one’s been reported missing,” she argued.

“Got me, Darce. All I know is we’re staying out of the investigation.”

“Why did you go to Buchanan’s funeral if you’re staying out of it?”

“We were trying to placate Aunt Dot. It was her brilliant idea.” I gave Darci a narrow look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the two of you were related. You both like to go looking for trouble.”

“Very funny,” she said with a pout. “Why does Tink think the skull has something to do with Buchanan’s death?”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Shh,” she whispered, glancing past me to Edna. “Keep your voice down. Edna’s soaking in our conversation.”

I stepped closer to Darci.

“The story’s going around town that Tink must know something about Buchanan’s murder,” she said.

I groaned, remembering Tink’s remarks at the campground. She’d mentioned Buchanan when T.P. dropped the skull at her feet. And thanks to the way people embellished rumors, it now sounded like she was some kind of material witness. Not good.

“What else are they saying?” I asked in a tired voice.

Darci shrugged. “That your family sure has a knack for turning up dead people.”

I gave a soft moan, but before I could speak, the door of the library swung open and Bill marched in. He didn’t look happy.

He walked with purposeful strides toward the counter, and without preamble said, “Ophelia, may I talk to you in
your office?”

“Sure,” I replied, trying to hide my trepidation.

I reluctantly led Bill down the stairs and into my office. After shutting the door, I took my place behind my desk and gestured to the chair across from me.

“What’s this about, Bill?”

Removing his hat, he got right to the point. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Absolutely not,” I replied heatedly.

“I heard you went to Buchanan’s funeral.”

I decided the best defense was a strong offense. “Last time I checked, it’s a free country and I can go where I want.”

“Why did you want to attend the funeral?” Bill asked, not giving up.

“Aunt Dot had met Mr. Buchanan on the plane and they hit it off. When she learned he’d passed away, she wanted to go to his funeral to pay her respects.”

I wasn’t lying—she had wanted to go. I didn’t need to mention the main reason was that she thought she could spot his killer.

“Why didn’t you mention that Miss Cameron knew Buchanan?”

“You never asked.”

From across the desk, Bill glowered at me.

“Honestly, I never thought about it.” I picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk. “And what’s to tell? My elderly aunt met a man on a plane and they talked. That’s it.”

“He might have said something to Miss Cameron on the plane.” Bill wiped his bald head. “Did he act afraid, worried, distracted?”

I tossed the pen down. “I don’t know. As far as I know, they had a pleasant trip, he helped her off the plane when it landed. It’s happenstance that someone Aunt Dot met wound
up a victim of a violent crime.”

“Your family seems to attract these ‘happenstances,’” he muttered. “Let’s talk about the skull—”

“Hey,” I interjected. “I can’t help that Tink’s dog found a skull.”

Bill spun his hat in his hands. “No, but Tink said—”

“Come on, Bill,” I said, interrupting him again. “She’s a teenager and it freaked her out. She can’t be held responsible for her babbling.”

“I know that, you know that, but this is a small town, and stories change as they make their rounds.”

Something in Bill’s eyes frightened me.

“Tink’s a good kid, and I hate to see anything happen to her because of a rumor,” he continued.

My hand flew to my throat. “Is she in danger?”

“I don’t think so, but Buchanan didn’t hook himself up to the embalming machine. A killer’s still out there, and I don’t want a rumor causing him to think Tink’s a risk to him.”

I grabbed the phone and, in a panic, began to punch in Abby’s number. I’d dropped Tink at the greenhouse before work. Abby had to know about this. She had to make sure Tink stayed safe.

“Hold on,” Bill said, taking the receiver from my hand and placing it back on its base. “I said she’s not in imminent danger—”

“No,” I exclaimed, shaking my head back and forth. “You said the murderer might—”

“The point I was trying to make is these rumorscould compromise Tink’s safety.” He gave me a hard stare. “So if you know anything, Ophelia, you’d better come clean and tell me.”

“I don’t, really I don’t,” I stuttered. “I know in the past I
haven’t always been completely honest with you, but I swear, this time—” I clamped my mouth shut to stop my blathering.

“Okay.” Bill gave me a kind smile. “I believe you.” He stood and settled his hat back on his head. “Just keep an eye on her, and to be on the safe side, I’ll ask the chief to send a patrol car by every so often in the evenings.”

“O-o-kay,” I bumbled.

Pulling his hat low on his forehead, he exuded confidence. “Don’t worry. We’ll catch whoever’s responsible for Buchan-an’s death.”

I stood in shock, staring at Bill’s back as he left the office.

Was Tink not only going to be haunted by ghosts, but by a killer, too?

Fourteen

I examined my face in the mirror on my vanity table. Lines of tension crossed my forehead and creases bracketed my mouth. Even Darci’s makeup tips weren’t going to hide those suckers.

“I don’t think this date is such a good idea, Darci,” I said as my eyes moved from my face to her reflection hovering by mine in the mirror.

“Yes it is.” She moved to the side of the table and, resting a hip on the edge, stared down at me. “Bill told you that he didn’t think Tink’s in danger. She’s staying with Abby tonight, so I don’t see what the problem is.”

I brushed the hair away from my face. “Come on, Abby’s in her seventies and Aunt Dot’s in her nineties. How much protection can two senior citizens provide?”

“Bill was only warning you to be careful, not suggesting that you call out the militia to protect her.”

“And Aunt Dot has a broken wrist,” I said, ignoring Darci’s statement. “She couldn’t even protect herself.”

She chuckled. “I’m not too sure about that,” she exclaimed. “I bet she can be really wicked with that cane of hers.” She straightened and stepped behind me. Laying a hand on my shoulder, she pinched the muscle.

“Ouch,” I said, batting her hand away.

“You’re so tense those muscles are in knots. If you don’t do something to relax, you’re going to crack.”

“I know.” I stroked my forehead trying to ease the lines away. “When I came home this afternoon, I let my guard down to summon a vision. It didn’t work. I couldn’t focus.”

“Did anything come to you?”

I stood and walked back to my bedroom with Darci following. “No, not really. All I saw was a bunch of random images—”

“Such as?” Darci asked, butting in.

“From the past…mainly from our trip to Minnesota when we first met Tink.” I stretched my neck trying to ease the kinks.

Leaning back, Darci tapped her chin thoughtfully. “That makes sense, since you’re concerned with her safety.”

Taking a seat next to her, I slipped on my sandals. “I suppose, but I didn’t find anything enlightening about what I saw.”

“Quit worrying,” she replied, poking me in the ribs. “Go have fun. Set the problems aside for tonight. Maybe if you do, it will help clear your mind and you’ll be able to see things more clearly.”

“You’re right,” I agreed reluctantly, and stood. Holding my arms out to the side, I watched Darci’s face. “So? How do I look?”

She squinted and eyed me from head to toe.

Suddenly self-conscious, I smoothed my hands over my navy blue sundress. “Well?”

“Turn around slowly,” she instructed.

Making a small pirouette in the center of the room, the hem flared around my knees.

“Hmm,” she said. “The wider straps are flattering, and it
fits well around the bust line. A little cleavage—”

My hand flew to my chest in alarm. “Too much?”

Darci laughed. “No, it’s just right. The dress shows your curves, but it doesn’t look like you’re advertising, if you know what I mean.”

“Are you sure?” My eyes narrowed in doubt. “I don’t want Christopher to get the wrong idea.”

“I’m sure.” Darci tapped her watch. “If you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late.”

Grabbing my purse, I flew down the stairs and out of the house, leaving Darci to lock up behind me.

When I arrived at the restaurant, Christopher was waiting for me by the hostess station.

“You look lovely,” he said with a smile.

He wasn’t a slouch in the looks department, either. He wore camel-colored pants with a light blue shirt and a navy sport coat. There was a definite style about him that spoke of his success.

Nervously, I fiddled with the gold chain I wore around my neck. “Thanks. You look nice, too.”

His smile broadened, and placing a hand in the small of my back, he guided me after the hostess.

Once seated, the hostess handed us our menus. “Would you care for anything to drink?” she asked.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Christopher asked me.