Witch One Dunnit? (Rachael Penzra mystery) (13 page)

       Had to use my powers wisely…

       Something was wrong…

       It involved me…

      
I’m dreaming,
I reassured myself,
just dreaming.

       I fell back to sleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT

From the Wiccan Rede:

When the Lady’s moon is new

Kiss the hand to her times two.

   I hedge quite a bit about my psychic powers, to myself as well as to everybody else.  For all the progress I talked about making, I am still uncomfortable with the flow of other peoples’ thoughts running through my mind, and spend most of my life with everything turned off.  I can’t always control my power in that way, but most of the time I can keep psychic flashes at bay.  They can be really frightening sometimes, particularly at times like this when
everyone
was full of nervous energy.  Mixed with the swirling energy was all the guilt drifting around.  Guilt is one of the most powerful sensations floating through the air.  It contains anger, frustration and fear.  We take so much guilt onto ourselves that it’s almost a conceit rather than a virtue.  It certainly isn’t humbleness – not the great part of it, anyway. 

       But the morning after Shelley’s death, I knew I was going to have to experience a lot of uncomfortable emotions if I was really going to purposely open myself up psychically.  Even knowing it would be upsetting, I had no idea if I could pick up anything of value.  It’s all so frustratingly unreliable.  If you asked, I might be able to tell you that you wore a satin, rose-colored gown to your senior prom, and the dress had a small stain near the hem, but I might not see that the stain was blood from when you’d murdered your date.  Well, maybe that’s an extreme example, but the idea behind it is true.  Sometimes I can’t see the forest for the trees.

       Since I’d always done my best to destroy my abilities instead of developing them, my ignorance didn’t help matters either.  I decided I needed to talk to an expert.

       I talked to Moondance, instead.

       She arrived with my morning coffee.  My mind, at the moment, was busy figuring out how I was going to find somebody competent to help out in the store for the rest of the season.  I’d pretty well decided I’d have to tap the teenage market, hoping there was one hard-working adolescent out there in this tourist haven who hadn’t been able to find a job up to this point.  I had a feeling I would probably be stuck with the dregs of the work force instead.  Teenage workers, in my opinion (based on years of working with them in the cleaning field) are extremists even in their work habits.  I’ve worked with some of the best workers and some of the laziest...all of them teenagers.  I prefer older women simply because they are more reliable, more settled.  Teenagers, the best of them, go on to bigger and better things than scrubbing toilets or doing seasonal work.  At least we hope they do.

       Moondance, therefore, was
not
the answer to my immediate problem.  She hadn’t come to offer to work for me (thank goodness) or to announce she’d found me an employee.  She came to advise me about the murder.

       “Today you must refrain from secular worries and distractions,” she began, once she was settled with herbal tea and a granola bar of some sort she’d brought along – of her own making she assured me, although I’d averted my eyes and carefully refrained from asking about it.  I’ve cleaned up vomit that looked more appealing.  I graciously refused her offer to share with me.  I enjoy homemade goodies as well as the next person, but I don’t eat things that look as though they’ve been reclaimed from a pooper-scooper.

   “Moondance,” I spoke, all things considered, with great patience.  “I have a shop to run, and I have to find someone to replace Shelly.”

       “Shelly can never be replaced,” she said, bowing her head piously.

       Oh good.  Now I was being unfeeling as well as materialistic.  “Moondance, I would never dream of suggesting such a thing,” Lucinda didn’t need to hear I’d said anything like that.  “But I need someone to work in the store for me.  You can understand how difficult it’ll be to replace Shelly.  She knew all the products better than I did.  I depended on her a great deal.”  I sounded like I was talking to a child, and not a terribly bright child at that.

       In a way I was.

       My soothing, somewhat condescending attitude didn’t seem to bother her.  Maybe she was used to it.  “I feel so sorry for Lucinda,” she sniffled.  “I used to be jealous of her.  She’s so sure of herself and she had a daughter and money and everything.”

       Rachael, the Determined, immediately disintegrated into Rachael, the Predictable.  I patted her arm, got up and poured her more tea.  “You have nothing to be jealous of,” I told her, mentally tying yet another well-meaning knot to my long string of lies.  “You’re such an interesting individual yourself that you don’t need to envy anything she has.  We all have moments where we envy others.  Sometimes we need something...”  I couldn’t say
like this
. . .  “Something shocking to make us realize...”  I was floundering.

       Fortunately, Moondance changed back to her old self despite my fumbling attempt at comforting.  I could feel satisfaction with herself and her life flow back into her.  Well, I told myself sternly, we’re all self-centered.  Her vanities are just more noticeable than most people’s, less well hidden or deeply buried.                              

       “Yes,” she said.  “I have a lot to offer this world.  I’m very gifted, you know.  And I’m here for you, Rachael, ready to stand behind you in your quest to solve this dark mystery.”

       Having never pictured myself as someone who’d go on a quest, I was a little dumbstruck.  In a weird way I felt a little like a character in a computer game. 
Rachael Penzra, finding herself facing an evil force, sets forth to right the wrong... 
I had learned that those games, like crossword puzzles, are insidious.  I’m always going to do play a tiny bit more before quitting and doing something practical like cleaning house or washing clothes.  Several hours later,
if
I’m lucky, I’ll manage to drag myself away. That’s usually due to extreme eyestrain and an aching back, rather than any desire to do something more constructive with my time.

       “Look, Moondance,” I decided I might as well make use of her knowledge, though not at this time of the morning.  “I have to get the store opened, but maybe I could talk to you this evening.  I’d like to know more about the people in the coven, and about anybody who spent a lot of time with Aunt Josie.”  Then I had a flash of inspiration.  “Or could you write a summary, a very brief one, of everyone.  It’d be strictly for my own use, of course.”

       Oh, I was a genius!  This little project could keep the woman out of my hair for
days
if I was lucky!

       “That’s a great idea!  I’ll go cleanse my spirit and then start writing immediately,” she promised eagerly.  “I know these people better than they know themselves!”

       “Er, Moondance,” I warned her.  “Don’t mention this little writing project to anybody.  Not
anyone,
not even Lucinda.  This is
our
secret.  If you talk to anyone about it, I won’t be able to sense the truth when I read about them.” 

       That seemed to thrill her.  I hoped it would also keep her silent.  My bright idea of keeping her out of my hair suddenly didn’t seem so brilliant.  What if she
did
happen to mention what she was doing to the wrong person?  Would he, or she, care what she was writing? Wouldn’t they simply ignore it?  Still, better not chance it.  I held up my hand, palm towards her, keeping a solemn look on my face.  I stifled the urge to say, “How!”  She held up her hand in imitation of mine, apparently thinking we were involved in some esoteric rite.  Then she turned on her heel and marched out the door.

       “That was weird,” Patsy said from the doorway where she’d been watching and most likely listening.  It’s a funny thing about young people, they can move like a herd of rampaging elephants or tiptoe on little cats’ feet.  “What was that all about?”

       “Moondance is going to do some research for me,” I told her as casually as I could.  “I wish I could trust her to find us someone to help out in the store.”

       “We can manage,” she said, with the confidence and energy of the young.  “All we need is a few minutes here and there for potty breaks.  I don’t mind eating at the counter.”

       “I do,” I snapped.  “When you get to my age, you need your little perks in life, such as a real lunch break.  But I suppose you’re right.  We can manage for a short while.  I’ll put an ad in the local papers.  We don’t need an expert in sales, just someone bright enough to learn the trade and help us survive the rest of the summer.”

       “A warm body,” she agreed, refining my needs to the basics.  “Okay by me.  I’d like to have some time off to try a few different things.  Joe said he can borrow a sailboat from his cousin, and I thought it might be kind of fun.”

       Her plans explained the warm-body theory.  It’s not that the young are any more self-centered than the rest of us.  They’re just a little more blatant about it.  As we age, we learn to camouflage our true feelings.  It’s called social manners. 

       Our prayers, although I don’t think either of us had reached that particular stage of desperation yet, were answered later in the day, and in an unexpected form.  A man in his forties (my guess) came into the store during the afternoon, browsed around for a few minutes, then approached me.  “I was wondering,” he said in a voice that was so neutral, so devoid of accent that I found myself concentrating, listening to him.  “You wouldn’t know of any store in the area that’s looking for part-time help?”

       “What sort of work are you interested in?” I asked.  It didn’t immediately occur to me he might be interested in working in
my
store.  I suppose I had it set in my mind I’d end up hiring another teenager.  Besides, he didn’t look like a salesclerk.  On the other hand, he didn’t look like anything else either.  He didn’t remind me of
anything,
and even stranger, I sensed absolutely no aura around him.  Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t notice one around most people, but somehow his seemed
absent –
maybe even
negative
, if that’s possible.

       “Anything will do,” he broke into my rather incoherent thoughts.  “I’m recovering from an illness and can’t do too much physical work, very little lifting, but other than that, I’m completely open to offers.  Most of the jobs listed in the papers involve quite a bit of physical strain.  I’m looking for something less strenuous.”

       He was pleasant, nice-looking without being handsome, polite without being subservient. 
Why not?
I suddenly thought.  He could only say no.  I certainly couldn’t afford to let minor character flaws (and why did I consider the lack of an aura to be a
flaw
?) stand in the way of the answer to a barely-formed prayer.  “I, ah,
I’m
in need of some help.  Would you be interested in working
here
part time?  The pay is a little above minimal, the only physical strain is that you’re on your feet a lot, but you do get a discount ...” I glanced around the store, wondering what he would possibly find to interest him.  While we do get male customers, most of our clientele are women.  Maybe he could buy things as presents for the women in his life.

       “This looks like it would suit my needs,” he smiled at me.  It was a pleasant smile, even reaching deep into his eyes.  My earlier qualms evaporated.  He stepped aside to let me serve a customer, unobtrusively watching my manner.  When she’d moved away, he approached again.  “My name is David Leahy.  I’d very much like to work for you.”

       I smiled back, and threw caution to the wind.  “I think we’ve got a deal,” I told him.  “When can you start?”

       “Anytime it’s convenient for you,” he assured me.  We couldn’t have been more polite if we’d met at a cotillion.

       Patsy walked in from the other room, leading several women, doing her infamous “trolling” act.  That’s what she called it.  She threw out a sales pitch, smiled benignly and walked away.  Most of the time they followed her, burdened with things to purchase.  The girl was definitely going somewhere. 

       We had a small rush of business, keeping both of us busy at the counter for half an hour.  Things work that way.  People form herds.  Everybody’s experienced it in grocery store lines, and it helps you to understand how mobs are formed.  When things quieted down a bit, I introduced our new co-worker to my niece.  She didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about him, or about his walking in off the street so conveniently.  “I can show you around right now, if you want,” she offered.  Apparently her plans with the young deputy were important enough to her to make her willing to settle for anybody, as long as they’d provide her with a little time off.