The Witch's Voice

by Iris Kincaid

  “You’ve got mail,” Lydia signed. “Really interesting mail.”

  Wanda’s mail was never interesting. Bills, ads, never anything noteworthy. Until today. She glanced at the envelope that Lydia handed her, and her eyes flew open wide. She and Lydia exchanged an amazed look, and then they both started grinning ear to ear. Not the reaction you’d expect from the average citizen. But for someone who wanted to be normal and to do something important, this felt like winning the lottery. Wanda Macomber had just been called for jury duty!

  *****

  There were well over one hundred people in the cavernous room, waiting to see if they would be chosen to serve on a jury. If pressed to tell the truth, about three-quarters of them were desperately hoping to get out of the obligation. It was just an inconvenient pain in the butt for some. Others couldn’t spare the time away from demanding careers, particularly those who owned their own businesses. Some were family caretakers and some had small children. There were just a hundred and one reasons why most them avoided jury duty like the plague. The room was filled with faces that were bored, reluctant, apprehensive.

  There were some who simply couldn’t embrace the idea of the burdensome responsibility of dispensing justice. How could it be in their humble hands whether or not an accused individual was thrown into jail or set free? That wasn’t something they had ever been trained to do. What if they got it wrong? It was a very stressful, agitating possibility.

  Most of them could not relate to the enthusiastic Wanda Macomber. She sat forward on the edge of her seat, rarin’ to go. This was exactly what she had been waiting for. It wasn’t the first time that she had been called for jury duty, but previously, she had always been excused because of her disability.

  Bureaucracy being what it is, she continued to receive notices over the past ten years and had to explain her situation over and over again. But finally, her civic duty was well within her capabilities. At long last, a chance to do something important.

  No, it wasn’t the same as being a brilliant professor or a world-acclaimed scientist. Or an inventor. Or a celebrity. But she was about to have the fate of someone in her hands. She was going to hear the truth, sort out the evidence, communicate with the other jurors, and assert her opinion. Yeah, she’d seen 12 Angry Men. There could be a thrilling drama ahead.

  The truth of the matter was, there actually were a few other enthusiastic people in the room. Perhaps they hadn’t always been excited at the prospect of jury duty. But they were this time. Because this time, there was the strong possibility of winding up on the Heather Kelton jury. And that was a thrilling prospect. How often do you get to be on a murder jury? That’s a pretty big deal. That she was possibly killed by Harley Osborne, her own employee, was fairly high drama. And even though they’d have to stay mum during the proceedings, what a great story they’d have for the rest of their lives.

  Wanda leapt to her feet with excitement when her name was called with about twenty others to enter the questioning room. She was fairly confident of her ability to make a good impression, and people’s general fascination with her sultry new voice probably wouldn’t hurt her.

  What she wasn’t expecting was to see him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  How many years had it been? Six? Almost seven. He was as handsome as ever, and completely in his element—a confident public defender, rifling through his files, glancing up occasionally as the prospects came marching in. But he did an unmistakable double-take when he saw that Wanda was among them.

  Yes. It was her. Prettier and even more appealing than when he had last seen her. She had been so young then, as if she had just gotten out of college. But considering her job at Holloways, she probably never had a chance to go college. She was one of the potential jurors. How could that be possible? She was mute.

  But she wasn’t deaf. Perhaps the court was going to make some special kind of accommodation. She could certainly listen to evidence and draw conclusions as well as anyone. Better than most. He remembered what a sharp mind she had. But how was she going to make it through deliberation? And was he going to be the jerk who had to dismiss her from serving? That would totally suck . . . and make it very difficult to ask her for a date afterward.

  He introduced himself to the entire group as public defender Jeremy Todd. He explained that they would be potential jurors for a murder case and that this was the most somber and demanding of all assignments. He also said that Judge Foster had to finish up two other trials to fill in for one of her colleagues who was recouping from a heart attack. This meant that the jury would be meeting only half-days until the other cases were resolved.

  The judge interjected, “But I don’t want you to think this trial will be getting a short shrift. It will be my greatest priority.” In her late sixties and a few years short of retirement, Judge Foster was well aware of the intense public spotlight on this trial. She nodded at Jeremy to continue.

  “It is in the best interest of all concerned to answer every question with complete honesty. This trial—all trials, but this trial in particular—is about getting at the truth. And it has to start right now with the questions that I ask you in this room. I don’t want you to think of the consequences or about whether you want to serve or don’t want to serve. I just need your truthful responses. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded. As Wanda surveyed her fellow potentials, she saw that Jeremy Todd’s resemblance to Matt Damon was not lost on most of the women in the room. She watched as he conducted several interrogations in front of hers. He was very well-practiced, very deliberate, and usually, cool as a cucumber. But every once in a while, he and Wanda would lock eyes and his nervousness became apparent.

  At least she could comfort herself that he recognized her. But where had he disappeared to all that long time ago? He didn’t owe her anything, of course. But it sure did feel like there was some unfinished business between them. And she didn’t seem to be the only one who felt it.

  “Ms. Wanda Macomber.”

  “Yes, Mr. Todd.”

  Nothing could have surprised him more. Most people were somewhat blown away by the captivating quality of her new voice. But she could tell that pretty much any voice coming out of her would have had the same reaction from him. Which made sense. How could he possibly have known about her operation?

  “Ms. Macomber. I don’t quite know how to put this . . .”

  “I had an operation to replace my vocal cords and it was a success. I have my voice back now.” That wasn’t the whole truth. She had someone else’s voice now. But that distinction seemed beside the point.

  Jeremy’s jaw dropped in amazement. “That is absolutely wonderful news. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  The judge, who looked a few years short of retirement, eyed them suspiciously. “Do you know this woman, counselor?”

  “She works at Holloways, and when I last recall seeing her, some seven years ago, she wasn’t able to speak.”

  The judge squinted, taking a closer look at Wanda. “Yes, I do believe I’ve seen you myself on occasion, over the years. Well, well, let me join Mr. Todd in congratulating you on overcoming your difficulties. There’s no better use that any citizen can put their voice to than this honorable civic duty.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. That was one of the great regrets I had while experiencing my disability—having to excuse myself from jury duty when I so badly wanted to be of service.”

  The ingratiating and commendable sentiment, in conjunction with the honeyed tones of her voice, was enough to win over both the judge and the prosecutor. Truth be told, there was no way that Jeremy Todd was going to lose sight of this woman again, although he had to show a certain professional display of indifference.

  “Is there any reason that you wouldn’t be able to hear the facts of this case in an impartial manner?”

  “Counselor, are you impugning my integrity?

  “Oh, absolutely not. I certainly didn’t mean to give that impression.”

 
“In a trial of this importance, I consider it to be a solemn duty to uncover the truth. I feel privileged to have this kind of opportunity to contribute to my town and my society.”

  She was laying it on thick. At the same time, every word of it was true. The chance to do something this monumentally important was thrilling to her. The prosecutor and Jeremy exchanged a look and nodded. She was in.

  *****

  The following day brought the next step in the process. Someone had to be in charge of the group. The facilitator asked everyone to introduce themselves and to complete the sentence, “Make me your foreman, because I . . .”

  About half the jurors seemed a bit nervous with this exercise. There were a lot of shy retiring types who might not have minded serving on the jury, but they didn’t want to draw any undue attention to themselves, and they certainly didn’t want to be foreman. The responses were, accordingly, as halfhearted as they could make them.

  “Make me your foreman because I’m very detail-oriented.”

  “Make me your foreman because I take very good notes.”

  “Make me your foreman because I know how to get along with people and I’ll speak to everyone on the jury in a very respectful way.”

  But one young fellow definitely wanted the job. Stuart Potter, twenty-five, was a nervous bundle of aggressive energy. “Make me your foreman because I won’t put up with any wishy-washy nonsense. I will keep us on track, and I won’t let anyone fall asleep at the wheel.”

  A few heads nodded grudgingly. Perhaps Stuart was the right person for the job. Too bad for him that Wanda also wanted the position. It seemed to represent to her the ultimate challenge of a newly revamped life. A small chance to make a difference, and the chance to have her opinions heard and respected.

  “Make me your foreman . . .”

  Eleven heads bobbed up and down.

  “Yeah, she’s definitely the right person.”

  “Real leadership potential. She has a presence.”

  “Smart. I knew it the minute she opened her mouth.”

  It took a moment for Wanda to realize they were responding to the power of her voice. The command had not been intentional on her part.

  But even Stuart Potter seem to have forgotten his interest in the job. “Everybody for Wanda Macomber?”

  Twelve hands shot in the air. Wanda beamed with pride. She was going to do everything she could to merit their confidence. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so much confidence as, uh, obedience. Tomato, tomah-to. She was the foreman. Woo-hoo!

  *****

  Wanda entered the courtroom reverently, and breathed in deeply. The smell of justice was in the air. Likely, she was just responding to the Lemon Pledge that was used on the wooden rails of the jury box and the witness stand. But it was a good smell. She was bursting with excitement.

  The snake wrangler who had aided the police on the night of the murder was the first witness Mr. Douglas Bloggs. The prosecutor was up first.

  “Mr. Bloggs. I understand the limitations of your familiarity with this crime. But can you tell us, if a citizen of Oyster Cove wanted to get their hands on a killer snake to commit this heinous offense, how would they go about that?”

  “Well, it’s certainly not the first time,” Mr. Bloggs said, shaking his head. “There are at least half a dozen fellows who put on snake shows all around the country. And any one of them will provide you with a poisonous snake for a price. I’m told that one of these men was at your county fair about a month ago. He’s been described to me, although I don’t recall his name. But he would’ve supplied the snake without hesitation. For a price, of course. A thousand dollars is probably the minimum he’d charge.”

  “How would the delivery have occurred?”

  “Oh, the buyer never has to handle the snake. They really couldn’t. It always comes prepared in a box, ready for the unwitting victim to open. It simply has to be delivered.”

  “I don’t suppose you can offer any assistance in tracking down the snake seller? The police didn’t have much luck.”

  Mr. Boggs shook his head. “He’ll go by a different name for every show. Beard, mustache, wig . . . I have seen the photos that were taken of him at the fair. He was most definitely masking his appearance. Also, this death has received some national attention and he will lay low. I doubt you’ll be able to find him.”

  “Hmm. And can you give us a greater understanding of the attack. Did she suffer, Mr. Bloggs? Did Heather Kelton suffer when that diamondback rattlesnake sprang out at her and bit her, right in the face, and then again on the leg?”

  “The initial pain is quite intense. But the numbness sets in very quickly. I would imagine the mental anguish would be more problematic than the physical pain.”

  “You mean she had time to lie there and realize that she was dying?”

  “Yes. Not long, but she would’ve had at least five minutes to realize that she was paralyzed and losing all physical sensation. I can’t say for sure whether she understood the bite was fatal. But I think most of us might jump to that conclusion. Is it a quick way to die? Is what you’re asking? I think it’s definitely meant to inflict suffering.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bloggs.”

  “Mr. Todd?”

  Jeremy shook his head. The jury did not need to hear any more gruesome snake details.

  The next witness was Mayor James Kelton.

  Jeremy had to tread very lightly. There was a real possibility that his client had killed this man’s wife. “Mayor Kelton, let me extend my deepest condolences for your loss. It’s important that we understand the relationships in her life and whether this crime was committed by someone who was known to her. Can you tell us whether your wife had any enemies?”

  “Enemies? She was an Accounts Receivable supervisor, for heaven’s sake. It’s not really a drama-filled, backstabbing kind of environment. And of course, she was the mayor’s wife. I’m sure a lot of people were envious. We lead . . . we led a very good life. We both had good jobs. She enjoyed our public functions, our VIP perks.”

  “Did she have many friends?”

  “She had a lot of associates. She was certainly on friendly terms with a number of people. Of course, some people found her to be challenging. She had a strong personality, which suited me just fine. We were very well-matched. We wanted the same things from life. Perhaps it was envy. I’m really at a loss. I don’t know why anyone would have done this to her.”

  “Thank you, Mayor Kelton. And again, our condolences.”

  Wanda had seen the mayor on and off for years, and she had never seen them so downbeat. Heather Kelton had been an irritating woman, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t been loved or that her husband wasn’t suffering. It was his suffering that she wanted to remember as the driving force behind uncovering the truth.

  The next witness was an employee from Heather Kelton’s Accounts Receivable office, Amelia Jarvis, twenty-seven. She looked rather uncomfortable in the office attire she had worn for court. Wanda wouldn’t have been surprised to see some tattoos peeking out from that buttoned-down suit.

  “Ms. Jarvis. You work at The Pearce Call Center in the Accounts Receivable department. Is that correct?” Jeremy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You worked under Heather Kelton, who was your supervisor, and you worked alongside Harley Osborne, who stands accused of her murder.”

  “Yes. That’s correct.”

  “Harley Osborne was fired from your department two months ago. Can you tell us why he was fired?”

  “He lost a lot of hours. He went from forty hours to thirty hours, which meant that he lost his medical benefits. He’s got guardianship of his sick nephew, so that was a disaster. He was furious, and frankly, it didn’t make any sense. Heather hired two more people, whom we didn’t really need, and then cut back Harley’s hours. No one could understand it. He asked for his hours back, they had a big fight, and she fired him.

  “How did he respond?”

  “Oh, he was furious
. ’Cause he was a good worker, and he figured he didn’t deserve it. But what really set him off the deep end . . .”

  “Please continue, Ms. Jarvis.”

  “Is that she tried to block his unemployment checks. Said that he didn’t deserve it because he had turned down work—that’s how she thought about the new hours that she’d offered him that he didn’t want to accept. And you can’t get unemployment if you turn down a job. Even though he was fired, she made sure that he couldn’t get his unemployment checks.”

  “You worked with Harley Osborne. How did you feel about this?”

  “It was none of my concern. The people in charge can run the company any way they see fit.”

  Next up was newly-minted millionaire, Powerball winner Misty Chandler.

  “Ms. Chandler, how would you characterize your relationship with the deceased?”

  “Heather was my best friend. We’ve known each other for twenty years. Since before either of us was married. Never in a million years did I think that something like this could happen to her.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Chandler. Being as close to Heather Kelton as you were, can you tell us whether she had any enemies?”

  “Well, of course there was that guy who had to be dragged away from her office by the police.”

  “Would that be one Drew Bishop?”

  “That’s the one. He came in one day, screaming and hollering at her, threatening to get violent. His wife worked for Heather, and I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but I guess he thought Heather had been unfair to his wife or something.

  They actually had to call the police on this guy. Heather was talking about hiring some special security to protect herself. That was just a few weeks ago. I didn’t think anything would have come of it. I sure didn’t think it would come to this.”

  “Well, Ms. Chandler, that is something we definitely need to look into. Thank you. That’ll be all.”

  Last to take the stand on day one was the accused himself, Harley Osborne. He was a sullen defiant man, in his early forties. The prosecutor approached.