A New Witch In Town

by Jenny Bankhead

  “You’re going to need a Large if you’re going to get it over that tracksuit,” Muriel noted. Lorna duly accepted the shirt and pulled it over her ensemble.

  “This is exciting,” Lorna said, admiring the shirt. “How did you get these made at such short notice?”

  “I have connections,” Muriel replied mysteriously. “Here, take one back to Betty. I’d hate to think that she is missing out.”

  “Oh, she’s not missing out. She’s decorating my cottage,” Lorna said.

  “Is she really? What an overachiever,” Muriel replied.

  Now, we all know at this point that Muriel can create quite a spread, and the morning repast was no different. On the tables in front of her Lorna could see: crumpets with butter, marmite on toast, proper pancakes, Scotch pancakes, beans on toast, leftover chili, bubble and squeak, and every imaginable item that could be included in a fry-up, including tomatoes, mushrooms, eggs, bacon, hash browns, beans, black pudding, and more sausage.

  All that being said, there was enough food to feed an army—and by the time the folks of nearby Whitley got word and came and joined the morning picnic, the search party nigh on resembled one.

  Everyone got a T-shirt, and with the larger sizes snapped up, Ralph Abrahms had to accept a rather small shirt that clung to him terribly. He squeezed into it like a sausage, and promptly got brown sauce on it, along with a bit of tomato and some egg yolk.

  Bill Bumblethorn was on rollerblades, a move Lorna regarded as rather innovative.

  “I shall arrest her!” he said proudly, pumping himself up.

  “You can do this, Chief Bumblethorn,” Lorna said, trying to encourage him.

  “I shall arrest her,” he repeated, as though it were a mantra.

  “Still no sign of Elizabeth Larkin?” Muriel asked.

  “I haven’t seen her this morning,” Lorna replied, looking about.

  “How very odd that she should disappear like this,” Muriel added. Lorna noticed that she was eating miso soup with noodles.

  “You have such interesting taste in breakfast foods,” Lorna remarked.

  “Oh yes. I always begin my mornings with a Japanese breakfast,” Muriel said, nodding. She was wearing one of her vintage lace dresses that hung down to the floor and she had a feathered hat upon her head.

  “What happens if we don’t find her?” Lorna said, her confidence wavering.

  “You mustn’t think that way,” Muriel said. “Keep your eyes on the prize and she shall be brought to justice.”

  The villagers continued to eat and chatter amongst themselves, but once the breakfast food was gone and everyone was full up, it was time for action.

  Bill Bumblethorn pointed his gun in the air and fired it, and the villagers were off and skating. The only awkward aspect to the remarkable scene was the considerable difficulty of roller skating through rough terrain. In the end, the villagers pushed through the grass as though on snow shoes, several of them assisted by dogs; after all, Evie Ellis wasn’t around to walk them that morning.

  Word had spread that a prize would be awarded to the first villager to find Evie, and so folks were getting competitive. Some elbowed and pushed others as they began. Villagers fell to the ground. There was a scuffle here and there. Some villagers took off their skates and went on horseback. Lorna thought that she even heard a helicopter overhead; she was impressed.

  Once word got out that Jackie Abrahms had offered a free gallon of Guinness to the first person to find the killer, a kind of fierceness arose that you’d only find at a game of Manchester United versus Leeds. Lorna was beginning to wonder if she should have brought pepper spray, just in case.

  “Evie Ellis!” the villagers cried, searching far and wide. Every inch of the park was inspected, as well as High Street, Super Supermarket, and the surrounding fields. Flo—wearing orange eyeshadow—took it upon herself to skate down every aisle of the Super.

  Once all of Tweed-upon-Slumber was covered, the search party fanned out to cover Whitley, St. Agnes’, and beyond.

  Back at Lorna’s cottage, Betty was decorating away when the villagers skated through the house, inspecting every cabinet and drawer.

  “What are you doing here?” Betty cried, but she was only met with silence and the whirring of wheels.

  By afternoon, the villagers were beginning to feel discouraged. Had they not gone far and wide? They had explored all of the neighboring countryside, without even a trace. What were they doing wrong? Had Evie taken the Channel Tunnel to France, never to be seen again?

  “Wait a minute!” Lorna cried, and everyone stopped to listen. “Has anyone been to Elizabeth’s Larkin’s home?”

  Collective silence. Everyone had to think about it.

  “No!” a man on a horse cried.

  “I have a feeling!” Lorna cried out. Damn, I shouldn’t have said anything, she immediately thought to herself.

  Lorna wanted the reward and free Guinness just as much as the next villager, but she couldn’t stop herself from calling out. The premonition had been too strong. How remarkable that it came to her without even having to use that darned cauldron. Maybe the force within her was getting stronger.

  The villagers descended upon Elizabeth Larkin’s house with its spooky exterior and charming interior. The wolf that had frightened Lorna before was sleeping in the backyard, only to dart away in horror when all the villagers arrived on skates.

  Everyone collected in front of the house, and each and every one of them had the same thought: If only there was a sandwich station set up here.

  Lorna stood at the head of the pack. She was the one with the bright idea, so she’d be the first to go in. The helicopter was overhead, shining its bright light down on the house, even though it was a sunny spring day. The hounds of Tweed had collected, too, and were barking wildly. In that moment, Lorna knew that she had come to the right place.

  “Evie Ellis, come out of there at once!” Bill Bumblethorn said through his megaphone, sounding rather like an irate father.

  “Bill, stop that,” Muriel said, taking the bullhorn from his hands.

  “I’m going in,” Lorna said, opening the front door and dashing inside. The whole village followed, skating into Elizabeth’s home and admiring the display of ironic cross-stitch on the walls. It was so happy and cheery in there, and it would only later be explained to them all that, once medicated, Elizabeth really was a charming lady.

  In lieu of sandwiches, the villagers took handfuls of candy from Elizabeth’s jars, leaving only the black jellybeans untouched. Lorna, however, had no time for snacks. She knew exactly where she needed to go: a secret room that no one would be able to find. She led the way, walking up the carpeted stairs on her skates.

  Once she arrived at Montebello’s room, Lorna hushed the crowd and put her ear to the door. Bumblethorn and Muriel did the same.

  Voices could be heard inside. Muriel related all that could be heard to Flo, who was standing immediately behind her. Flo then passed the message down the line in an increasingly awkward game of telephone.

  At the same time, the scene within the room appeared in Lorna’s mind. She could see it all so clearly. Were her powers truly giving her such remarkable vision? She’d never felt them so intensely in her life.

  Montebello was on the floor, praying to the god of dogs that he might perish. For on the floor with him were Elizabeth Larkin and Evie Ellis, flanking the dog on both side, creating an unbearable sandwich within which poor Montebello was the lunch meat.

  “Please understand, it was all just a joke,” Evie explained, luxuriating in Montebello’s fur. “I admit that I am Anonymouse. I wanted you to look guilty. I wanted to implicate you. I also implicated Maurice Crabtree, and I wept with joy when he was arrested. He’s just the worst!” Evie said with great passion.

  Upon hearing this, Maurice turned sour. In fact, his face became so sour that someone nearby feared that he might do something rash. What they didn’t know was that Maurice had unwittingly popped a
piece of candy known as Toxic Waste into his mouth.

  “I rather like Maurice, actually.” Elizabeth said dreamily (happy pills).

  “But he killed my dog, Sprinkles!” Evie cried, causing Montebello to cringe. “He tried to write it off as an accident, but I know the truth.”

  The villagers murmured amongst themselves.

  “Shh!” Rachel said. She had come out of nowhere.

  The crowd went silent and the confessions continued.

  “All of this is to say that, Elizabeth, your hair is perfect…” Evie went on (Lorna nodded her head in agreement), “but the truth is that I had an affair with your husband.”

  To Lorna’s amazement, Elizabeth actually started giggling to herself.

  “For a cheat, he was certainly a slow-witted one,” she said with a smile. “I can’t believe he thought I didn’t know. What on earth did you see in him?”

  “Well, he was an amazing lover,” Evie said, her tone becoming confessional. “I’ll spare you the lurid details of the long, loving-filled nights spent in his company, how he made me feel 100% woman and not just like a dog walker with chubby hands. Honestly, our bodies together were like poetry.”

  There was horror on Flo’s face as she passed this tidbit on. To her credit, she persisted nonetheless.

  “I can’t stand this any longer,” Bumblethorn said. “I shall arrest her, I shall arrest her, I shall arrest her!” he went on, pumping himself up.

  “Steady, old boy, steady,” Lorna said, wishing to wait until the moment was ripe.

  “I didn’t kill your husband,” Evie then said, and the crowd gasped and glared at Lorna as the news filtered down to them. Had she led them all astray? Was Evie Ellis not the real murderer after all? If not, Lorna would have some pretty serious explaining to do.

  Oh, sod it, Lorna thought. This is getting ridiculous. She was tired, she wanted the killer brought to justice, and she wanted her free beer.

  Lorna kicked down the door.

  “Evie Ellis, you killed John Larkin, and it’s high time that you admitted it!” Lorna cried.

  Evie screamed, while Elizabeth barely blinked. Montebello looked like Nelson Mandela on the day he was freed from prison.

  “It’s a lie!” Evie cried. “I didn’t kill John Larkin! He was the greatest lover that I’ve ever taken in my life and I was madly in love with him!”

  “You’re lying, Evie,” Lorna said, stepping forward.

  Finally, it all became crystal clear for Lorna. It was as though all the black jellybeans and cats and brooms and butterfly wings and oregano of the world had finally converged, and Lorna was filled with a kind of supreme power that had never been in her grasp before. She felt, in that moment, as if her ancestors’ coven stood with her.

  “What do you mean?” the girl asked in wonder.

  “You were in love with John Larkin. You had been for years, but your feelings were not requited,” Lorna said.

  “That’s not true! We made passionate love all the time.”

  “No, Evie. You did not. You wanted John to be your lover, but he refused your advances, insisting that he was married, and that he couldn’t. When you found out that John was cheating on his wife with another woman, after he’d rejected you, you became incensed. You threatened to tell Elizabeth, hoping that she would divorce him. In response to these threats, John gave you a Picasso and an Egyptian scarab, but his attempt to buy you off only served to drive you mad.”

  Lorna was glowing from within. Everyone listened to her speech in awe.

  “No,” Evie said softly.

  “Yes, Evie. The stolen items weren’t enough for you. You wanted revenge. Upon meeting John after you went to amend your carving on the willow tree, your anger took over. You viciously beat John Larkin with the same scarab he wished to bribe you with.”

  Silence. Everyone waited with bated breath.

  In response to this pressure, Evie took a chocolate bar from her pocket and slowly ate it. No one knew what this meant, and the timing of it seemed rather odd. Finally, Evie scrunched up the wrapper and threw it across the room.

  “I did it!” she cried. “It’s true.”

  The townspeople gasped.

  “I was walking Montebello that day,” Evie went on. “And I was only going to talk to John. I wasn’t going to kill him!” she protested. “I asked him if he’d reconsider, but he pushed me away. The next thing I knew, I was covered in John’s blood, and nothing has been the same since. I’ve lost my appetite entirely.”

  Lorna thought that last statement was dubious, but she didn’t speak to it on that occasion.

  “Evie Ellis, you are under arrest on suspicion of murder,” Chief Bumblethorn said very loudly and flatly. The words tasted of chalk and vinegar on his tongue, but he uttered them nonetheless.

  Evie Ellis put out her hands, and they were cuffed. She was led down the hall, past all the roller skaters, and outside. Since Bumblethorn didn’t have his police vehicle, he had to rollerblade back to the police station with Evie in tow.

  “Congratulations, Lorna,” Muriel said, giving her a pat on the back.

  “It was nothing,” Lorna said modestly.

  “This definitely calls for a celebration,” Muriel added.

  “In your book, everything calls for a celebration.”

  “And that’s the truth,” Muriel said with a smile.

  As the villagers of Tweed-upon-Slumber skated home, Lorna felt elation. And a bit of trepidation. She had been informed by Muriel that the celebratory festivities would take place at Lorna’s cottage, so everyone could delight in Betty’s design prowess. And it finally sank in that Lorna would return to a home decorated by a blind woman.

  Chapter 17

  “This blindfold is killing me,” Lorna said. “It’s too tight.”

  “Oh, stop complaining. Now you know how I feel,” Betty said.

  “No, Betty. You don’t have a suffocating blindfold wrapped around your head. Why won’t you just let me see?” Lorna asked.

  “I ask God that every day,” Betty deadpanned.

  “I mean, why can’t I just see the cottage?”

  “Because there must be a reveal,” Betty said.

  Lorna heaved a sigh. “All right, then.”

  The guests began to arrive at Lorna’s cottage, enjoying food and inspecting the cottage themselves while Lorna remained blinded. It seemed rather silly; Lorna couldn’t tell why she was still wearing the darn thing.

  “Okay, you can take that off now,” Betty finally said.

  “Thank God!” Lorna replied, taking off the blindfold and nearly fainting.

  For a long moment, Lorna just stood there with her mouth wide open. There were no words, and her mouth stayed open for so long that her jaw actually began to hurt. In fact, the whole incident would begin a long battle with TMJ that Lorna has not recovered from to this day.

  “Speak,” Betty said eventually. “What do you think?”

  “Betty, this is the most wonderful thing that I have ever seen,” Lorna replied.

  “I knew you’d like it,” the older woman said smugly.

  Like it was an understatement. The cottage looked like what Lorna coveted in her design magazines, only on steroids. It was utter perfection. Painted a happy, soft blue with white wainscoting, the cottage featured plush, overstuffed antique furniture, tile floors covered with cushy rugs, little antique chandeliers hanging from the exposed wood roof, antique appliances in the kitchen à la Julia Child, and there was a Christmas tree in the corner.

  Yes, the cottage was so utterly perfect that Betty couldn’t stand that it was merely springtime. She had installed a Christmas tree, fully decorated, near the fireplace, and had catered the whole event with a Thanksgiving dinner. Also, Lorna got her own miniature train set that ran around the Christmas tree. It made for an utterly charming sight.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Lorna said. “It’s too spectacular for words. I don’t even know how this was possible.”

  “Wel
l, since Maurice Crabtree was out on the roller skating adventure, I was able to scour Crabtree Antiques without any distraction,” Betty proclaimed.

  “Truly, some of this stuff looks really expensive,” Lorna said.

  “Yes, Maurice will send you the bill,” Betty replied.

  “Ah. How kind.”

  Of course, Muriel had had to research the traditional American Thanksgiving meal, but Betty had requested it, and so she undertook it with haste.

  It ended up being a strange sort of British take on a Thanksgiving meal, with beans inside of the turkey. The cranberry sauce might have had marmalade in it, the mashed potatoes marmite, but all in all it was a splendid meal, and Lorna was happily surprised to discover that all of Tweed fit into her home.

  “Happy Christmas,” Muriel said to Lorna.

  “Happy Christmas to you too,” Lorna replied.

  “Feliz Navidad,” Chief Bumblethorn said, sporting a sombrero and eating a plate of chimichanga.

  “Where did you get the chimichanga?” Muriel asked.

  “Over there, at the Mexican food table,” Bumblethorn said.

  “I didn’t prepare any Mexican food,” Muriel said in confusion.

  “How strange,” Bumblethorn replied.

  “Well, I can’t express enough how grateful I am for all this,” Lorna said. “I feel like my new life has really begun.”

  “We’re ever so happy to have you,” Muriel said.

  “I can’t believe the hospitality that I have experienced so far,” Lorna went on.

  “Well, we’ve used it all up and now our true colors will show through,” Betty replied with a grin.

  “I have no doubt,” Lorna said.

  “Well, we Tweeders must thank you, Lorna Merryweather, for solving the first murder to shake this village in decades,” Chief Bumblethorn said, moving on to a plate of Korean food. Again, no one would know where that Korean food came from. “And also giving me the courage to make my first arrest.”

  “I was glad to be of assistance,” Lorna said. She had to admit that she really was proud of herself. It had not been an easy case to solve.

  “I’m beginning to fear that my services are no longer needed,” Bumblethorn said, looking down at his kimchi stew mournfully.