“Let me confirm,” the deputy began again. Seated across the table from her, his eyes fixed on her face waiting for to reciprocate.
“On the night in question, you were alone at your house watching television until ten p.m. after which you washed your face and went straight to bed.” His eyes cast downward to check his notes. “Is that correct?”
“That’s what I said,” Agnes agreed. “I don’t understand why I need to repeat myself.”
The sheriff spoke for the first time, chastising her. “There’s no need to be confrontational, Miz Wilde. The boy is just doing his job.”
“Then get done with it, I’m tired. I’m ready to go home and go to bed.” Agnes’ chin jutted toward the sheriff. “Just like I did that night.”
The deputy quietly interrupted. “Then, can you explain to me how you were identified from a reliable source as being in the woods that night?”
Agnes opened her mouth then closed it. “Reliable source?” she scoffed. “Rubbish! I don’t know why anyone would say that. I was home.”
“Several hairs that bear a striking similarity to your own were also found on and near the body.” The deputy continued. “Do you have any explanation for how that could have occurred?”
“Of course I do.” Agnes shook her head at what she clearly placed in the nonsense category. “That’s as plain as day. As I’ve stated before, we were out there all the time. It doesn’t take a genius to figure I might shed a hair or twelve while I’m there.” He listened and silently wrote more notes on his notepad. A notepad she was beginning to despise. “We met at that circle two, sometimes three times a week.” She forced herself to close her mouth. She didn’t need to offer them a thing more than what they asked. Sheriff needed to do his job instead of taking the easy route and pinning Edith’s death on her.
The sheriff, his knee bent to brace his foot behind him against the wall, gave a slight push and stood. With a jerk of his head, he and the deputy traded positions.
“So, you’re sticking to that? You were home?”
“Why wouldn’t I if that’s where I was?” Agnes didn’t give an inch.
“You can’t think of any reason someone might say they saw you there, that night? None at all?”
“Let me think,” Agnes hedged. “I’ve had an awful time of it recently. I’ve been grieving so, everything has gotten jumbled.”
“Take your time.”
“Sometime last week I went to the woods to get some of those night plants for Izzy,” she paused, rubbing her forehead. “It might have been then. I can’t honestly remember. I’m fairly certain it wasn’t that night but I might,” she stopped and glared at the sheriff, “I suppose I might be mistaken on the date. She needed the night-bloomers for some potion. She’s my girl, and I try to help her where I can.”
“So, you’ve been out there at night before?”
“Well of course I have. I would reckon that a fair number of residents of Wits’ End have wandered in those woods.”
“Walk me through it. On whatever night you went out there, where did you park your car? Was it full on dark? Just start at the beginning and tell me everything as best as you can.”
Agnes closed her eyes to relate the night as best as she could remember. Where she parked her car, the trails she had used, but she left out the special cigarette she’d smoked while she was out there. He didn’t need to know everything.
He asked questions and then more questions. She answered without complaint, one after another. No, she didn’t remember seeing Edith out there ever. No, Edith didn’t roam the woods as far as she knew.
“So you’re now saying it’s at least possible that you were in fact there that night your friend died.”
Agnes didn’t like where he was headed. “In theory, I guess it’s possible. But a fairy blowing fart wind and sending Edith to her demise is just as likely.”
The sheriff lifted a brow at her comments. “I’m just trying to have a reasonable conversation, Miz Wilde. Please mind your tone.”
“My tone? MY tone?” Agnes could feel her patience losing its grip. “You drag me out of my home, while I had guests I might add, keep me here for hours asking asinine questions, and now I should check my tone? I think not, sheriff.”
Sheriff Pope made eye contact with the now-observing deputy. “Go out and ask Doris if the line up is ready. Take Agnes.” He turned back to her and asked, “We’re going to have you participate in a line-up. You won’t argue with that, will you?”
“Do whatever you feel is necessary, so I can be on my way.” Her voice was firm and no-nonsense just as she’d always presented herself. Inside though, she was terrified. What if? She refused to think it.
“Go with Deputy Carter then, and he’ll get you set up.”
He nodded to the deputy as he left the room. “She’s all yours.”
For more than an hour, Agnes was shuffled from room to room, then finally she was ushered into a squat room, more a hallway than a room, with several other gray-haired women. Agnes tried not to be offended at the profiling of her age and gender. They stood facing a mirror, a poster tacked to the wall behind them measuring height. As a group they were asked to turn, first their right side, then their left, then front again. Afterward, they were shuffled out, Agnes being escorted to another room, larger this time. The handcuffs were brought back out and she was cuffed to a bench along the wall.
“Agnes Wilde?” Another uniformed individual, a woman this time, entered the room reading off a clipboard.
“That’s me. I’m free to go, now?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not,” the lady informed her. “I need you to come with me.” She uncuffed Agnes and escorted her further into the bowels of the small station.
What happened next was a nightmare beyond Agnes’ imagination.
Fingerprints, a cavity search, atrocity after atrocity. Even her clothes were taken! A weaker woman would have crumbled at the onslaught of degradations. Agnes refused to break.
By the time she was led down a dingy corridor to a single cell, Agnes trembled in exhaustion. Her new designated space had only two cement walls and was thankfully empty of any other inhabitants. To share her humiliation with another might have been one blow too many. Bars gave her a partial view of the rest of the containment area but would become an issue if she needed to use the restroom.
Her escort pushed her into the small room, and she heard the clang of metal striking metal as she stumbled in. “Someone will be around in the morning to let you make a phone call.”
Agnes eyed the cotton sheets covering the single bed in the room. A toilet sat in the corner where everyone could watch her do her business. They would be waiting a long time before she did that. She’d piss herself first.
She moved over to the bed to inspect the linen. It didn’t appear too bad, all things considering. She tried to be thankful that if she had to be arrested, that it was in a small town where the jail bed didn’t see frequent use. Blessings indeed.
CHAPTER NINE
Izzy
The next morning, Isadora paced back and forth the length of her kitchen torn with indecision. From the door of his cage, Dodger followed her movements much like watching a sport.
“I should go to her house. Or, go to the station. Something, don’t you think?” Earlier, Dodger had offered his version of moral support with an occasional sounds as if in answer to her questions. Now though, he remained frustratingly silent on the matter.
“I know, I know,” Izzy pretended to argue with her pet. “She said not to come, but she didn’t mean it. Not really.” She waited for Dodger to comment. A shriek, a bark, even dooking - the adorable clucking noise he made - would be preferable to his silence. Anything that might help her decide what to do.
Izzy sighed, “You’re right. She meant it. I shouldn’t do anything until she tells me otherwise. But, it’s so hard!” The whine in her voice startled her into action. She was a Wilde and Wilde’s did not whine.
Decision
made, Izzy stopped in place. She would abide by Agnes’ wishes and wait to hear from her. It wasn’t as if Izzy wasn’t a busy woman in her own right. She had things to do - a business to run, a life of her own to lead.
The ringing of the phone gave her direction, purpose. She strode over to the counter and snatched up her telephone.
“Hello.”
“Isadora, I’m so glad I reached you,” Maeve’s voice on the other end of the line surprised her. Maeve’s harsh words with Agnes from the previous evening, followed by the even stranger invitation later, had Izzy uncertain how to approach this conversation.
“Maeve,” she began stiltedly, “how are you this morning?”
“I am wonderful, thank you for asking.” Isadora could hear the smile in Maeve’s voice. Maeve never smiled. Something was up.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Izzy offered. “I’m rather busy at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?” Izzy winced at the blatant lie. She wasn’t close to busy. The opposite of it in fact.
“Then I’ll make this brief.” Izzy could hear the smugness in Maeve’s voice. “I’ve already spoken with several members of the coven this morning. We’ve come to a consensus. With Agnes in jail, I do believe that I should be named the new leader. And as such, I am calling for a meeting, Saturday night, in the woods behind my home. You should be here….”
Isadora had resumed her earlier pacing as Maeve droned on about the new world order to her thinking.
Izzy’s attention stalled at the beginning of Maeve’s prepared speech. “Wait, what do you mean Agnes is in jail?”
The cackle in Maeve’s voice grated on Izzy’s nerves. The high notes of her glee scratching like fingernails on a chalkboard in Izzy’s mind.
“Haven’t you heard? She’s been there all night.”
Isadora was about to ask more when, before her very eyes, Agnes appeared. Mid-pace Izzy stopped short, so she didn’t plow through her guardian’s apparition.
“What the hell!”
“You watch your tone with me, young lady. You need to come to grips with reality and realize where your real friends are,” Maeve berated her.
Izzy all but tuned her out. She mumbled an off-handed apology to appease Maeve, “Sorry, yes, I know.” All the while, she stood, mouth agape, in shock as she gazed at Agnes.
“Listen to me, I haven’t much time,” Agnes’ hazy face wavered in the air. Panicked, Izzy rushed to press mute on the phone, unsure if Maeve could hear Agnes’ words.
Agnes continued without regard to her environment, “I’m using most of my power to do this, but it’s important. I’m innocent, and I want you to hear this from me.” Agnes’ face smiled at her. Izzy reached out to touch the ghostly image. She was morbidly fascinated. Her hand passed through her guardian’s cheek inciting Izzy to snatch her hand back in alarm. Agnes’ speech continued on as if nothing happened.
“Others won’t be so understanding as I know you’ll be,” Agnes went on.
Izzy was torn. She heard Maeve in one ear, still blathering on about taking over the coven. Yet, in front of her, Agnes was projecting an astonishing amount of power to send a message to her. Not listening to either conversation could prove dire, but if Agnes was in trouble, she would always come first in Izzy’s book. What could be so important to use what had to be draining Agnes of every bit of her resources?
“I need you to go to my house,” Agnes instructed. “You need to contact Magdalene for me. Her number is in my phone book in the living room end table’s drawer. It’s imperative you call her and give her this message.” Agnes stopped to convey a stern gaze and for a moment Izzy forgot the image wasn’t actually her.
“Yes, go on, I’m listening.”
“Tell her I need her help. Edith is gone, and something’s not right. Tell her that exactly. Can you do that?”
Izzy nodded.
“Are you there, girl?” Maeve screeched through the phone.
“I’ll call her and tell her,” Izzy promised. Her agreement barely left her lips before Agnes’ image began fading.
Izzy tapped at her screen to unmute the line so that she could respond to Maeve. “I’m here, sorry. I think Dodger pressed something on the phone,” she lied. “I want to discuss this. I think we’re being hasty calling for new leadership so fast. You said a meeting?”
“Saturday night. The woods behind my house. Come before the clock strikes ten. Don’t be late.” With those cryptic words, Maeve disconnected the line.
Izzy pressed the button ending the conversation. She didn’t understand how everything could change so quickly. How it went from normal to the current mess? Nothing made sense anymore.
She was being forced to walk a tightrope. To remain in the coven, by appearances, she had to at least listen to Maeve’s assertions. All the while, she followed Agnes’ instructions. Hopefully, everything would be resolved soon, and she could return to something resembling normal. Izzy didn’t like any of this, lying, sneaking.
A small grunt came from Dodger’s cage, so she turned her head. Curled into a semi-circle, his tail almost brushing his face, Dodger lay sleeping. Another snore broke the silence.
“Time for a nap, buddy?” Izzy asked his supine form.
Dodger snuffled, his eyes bleary as he woke. He chirped a few soft sounds, his expression earnest. It was as if he had all the answers. Izzy listened attentively and wished she knew what he was telling her.
◆◆◆
Less than an hour later, Izzy pulled into Agnes’ driveway. The house appeared the same as she had left it the previous night. A gust of wind brushed her hair into her face as she opened the car door and stood.
Evil is near, believe in your fear.
Spine stiffening, Izzy moved her lips the minutest bit possible as she queried. “Who said that?”
The neighbors had already been privy to a show the previous night. More proof of their madness would reflect poorly on the entire coven. The wind abated and Izzy convinced herself that her mind was just playing tricks on her. Izzy shook her head, slamming her car door in disgust. This is what happened when you had too much stress in your life. You began hearing voices.
Izzy marched to the door, eager to get the chore completed. She almost made it before she saw them. Five gnomes sporting long beards, dirty clothing, and miner’s headlight were blocking her path to the door.
“Hanzbag?” she ventured, hoping they were friendly.
The middle one sneered. “He told me you couldn’t tell us apart. The Marked should be able to. Let me see your mark,” the little man demanded.
“I…uh, I apologize. I’m not certain what mark you are referring to.”
“Stop being difficult, Bintor!” The gnome on the farthest right interjected. He scrubbed his hands against his shirt causing a flurry of dust and dirt to coat the air, then offered his hand in greeting. Izzy leaned over to tentatively take his hand in hers.
“My name is Grazog. Don’t pay any attention to my brother, your mark shines as bright as the sun to me. No one in their right mind would question it.” He bent forward and scowled down the line to the man he’d refer to as his brother at the center of their formation. He turned back to Izzy, making a face. Izzy supposed it was a smile as there was a glint of what could be teeth behind his beard. “It’s always best to ignore his grouchy ass. We’re happy to help. What would you like us to do?”
“Do?” Izzy repeated, completely at a loss. “Why would I need you to do something?”
“They’re coming,” Grazog explained, clearly puzzled. “Surely you know they’re approach is imminent. We should fight. Fight to the death, I say!”
“Sure, sure,” Izzy humored him. “Um, what are we fighting for exactly?”
Grazog scowled. Bintor stepped forward to gain back her attention. “He’s trying to say you need to keep your wits about you. We all must be diligent in our guard. Now, do you need reinforcements? We’re prepared for war. Just say the word.”
Izzy held out her hands,
battling back the urge to grin. “I’m good for now, thanks though.” The gnomes were growing on her. They were sweet in their own way.
“What about the man across the street? The One who watches?”
Izzy whipped around. Sure enough, a man stood leaning against a car, arms crossed, blatantly spying on her. He was tall, even from a distance she could tell that. Medium, longish brown hair framed his face. His eyes were squinted against the sun, their color impossible to tell. A black leather jacket hung off one finger. She wondered why he had a jacket in this heat. Then quickly discarded that question, his white t-shirt and what it covered snagging her attention instead. There was nothing wrong with his physique at all. Her eyes traveled lower, and his jeans that accentuated his lean waist and long legs, yum. Izzy felt drool form in her mouth.
“Do we know who he is?”
Izzy dragged herself back to the gnomes when she heard Grazog’s voice answer. “I do not know him, should we?”
“I’ve never seen him before in my life,” Izzy assured him. She would remember him, of that she was positive. But reality called, and gorgeous man or not, she had a job to do.
She reached into her purse, retrieving her cell phone, and explained when she noticed the men’s puzzled faces, “I’m going to take a picture of him.”
“But why? If you want to know who he is, we will ask.” One of the little men broke formation and started toward the stranger.
“No,” Izzy stopped him. “He’s probably just waiting for something. I bet he’ll be long gone before I’m done here. I just want to take a pic. Maybe that will shake him up, teach him to mind his own business.” She flipped back around to where he stood and lifted her phone. He still rested against the car, arms folded. Izzy would swear he was laughing at her.
With a steady hand, Izzy lined up the shot, then zoomed in to be sure to capture his face. The jerk winked at her! She clicked the camera three times back to back to be certain she would get a good picture. She planned to show it around, someone would know who he was.
Marked: Thoth's Legacy ~ Book One Page 7
