The Witch's Voice

by Iris Kincaid

  The judge used her gavel to bring quiet to the courtroom. “It appears that we have a hung jury. Therefore, I’m going to have to declare a mistrial. I thank the jury and the attorneys for their efforts. I realize the insurmountable complications of this case, and obviously, we will have to move forward as best we can. Case dismissed.”

  And with that, everyone stood up and prepared to leave the courtroom.

  Wanda became fixated on the reactions of one particular member of the audience. A man who had responded impassively to the announcement that no justice had been found for his wife. A man who had had a loaded gun pointed at him last night, but then showed no interest in notifying the police, nor had he felt obliged to notify the judge presiding over his wife’s murder trial that a member of the jury had just tried to kill him.

  Wanda had not compelled his silence. His decisions had been his own. But the time for silence was over.

  “Mayor Kelton! Before you leave today, tell us—who delivered that snake to your wife’s door?”

  The mayor seemed to be struggling with himself, a struggle he was destined to lose. “Harley Osborne left that snake for my wife.”

  “Why did he leave that snake for your wife?”

  “Because I paid him to.”

  There was absolute uncontrollable chaos in response to the mayor’s confession, with the judge banging her gavel as loudly as he could to restore order.

  “Tell us why you had your wife killed, and include Misty Chandler’s involvement.”

  Harley and Misty were both inside the courtroom, sitting stiff and terrified.

  “It was Heather who won the lottery. But we didn’t want anyone to know. Especially my ex-wife. We had a very peculiar alimony agreement. I wasn’t able to give her her share up front of all of our assets. So, she was entitled to my future assets. She would’ve taken a huge chunk of those winnings. And the same with Heather’s side of the family—she didn’t get on with them at all. But they would’ve come out of the woodwork, and we didn’t want to hear from them.

  So, Misty was going to claim the money. But then, I just got the distinct feeling that, if it were up to Heather, she really didn’t want to split it with me either. That with that kind of wealth, she could do a whole lot better than being a small-town mayor’s wife. I even saw her speaking with a divorce lawyer. I couldn’t believe it. After all I had done for her.”

  “Did Misty know that you were going to kill Heather?”

  “No. But she guessed afterward. And I was pretty sure she was gonna tell the police. So, I told her to keep her mouth shut and she would stay alive. She figured that if I hadn’t hesitated to kill Heather, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. And that was how I kept her quiet.”

  “She was afraid for her life.”

  Misty interjected, “That’s why I was running to Vancouver. So that he could never find me.”

  “Hmmph. I told Misty to just pretend that she was the winner. To write the checks that Harley needed and then promise to take care of his nephew for the rest of his natural life in return for going to jail for Heather’s death.”

  Harley stood up and yelled at the mayor, “You’ll never get the money now. And if you can’t pay me, our deal is off.”

  That really set off pandemonium in the courtroom.

  “Officers, take Mayor Kelton into custody. And take Ms. Chandler and Mr. Osborne to the police station for questioning,” Judge Foster directed.

  In the middle of the courtroom, Jeremy watched the events unfold with both amazement and enormous pride. The phone in his pocket vibrated. He checked the text. It said, “Your place. In twenty minutes.”

  Hmm. Yes, ma’am.

  He looked up to find Wanda putting her phone away. This was sure to go down as one of the most memorable days of his life.

  *****

  Before they could take their relationship to the next level, Wanda felt it was only right that Jeremy knew exactly what he was getting into.

  “So what, exactly, do you mean by ‘witch’?”

  “Magic. Special powers. My specialty is getting people to do anything I tell them to. Obviously, not something I want to go overboard with.”

  What could she do to wipe away his chuckling disbelief? Thirty excruciating seconds of doing the Macarena, and Jeremy was forced to admit that his new girlfriend was a witch. He paced around for a long, long time, trying to connect what he had witnessed with what he now knew.

  “So, Fiona Skretting?”

  “Witch.”

  “Lydia.”

  “Not a witch.”

  “Delphine.”

  “Witch.”

  “Heather Kelton?”

  “If she had been a witch, that snake wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

  “Have you ever used that power on me?”

  Wanda nodded sheepishly. “When I wouldn’t let you step down from the case. When I told you not to feel guilty. When I said, ‘kiss me.’ ”

  “That is something you’re never going to have to coerce. But . . . are you the reason why I broke so many rules on this case?”

  Wanda nodded guiltily. “A lot of that was me. So, don’t blame yourself for that.”

  “I won’t. Hey! Did you just do it to me again?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I suppose all’s well that ends well. But I think you’re going to have to stay away from all my future cases. And more importantly, I am going to request that you never, ever do that Macarena thing to me again.”

  “Okay. But don’t you like to dance?”

  “I do a pretty mean horizontal mambo. You know that one?”

  “I do.”

  Best third date ever.

  EPILOGUE

  If one were to assume that a cringe-inducing reptilian murder and a disgraced mayor sitting in prison were going to have a negative effect on Oyster Cove’s tourist industry, then one would be wrong. The story filled the regional papers, and the tourists came in droves, most of them eager to pump the locals for information about the trial and what personal run-ins they had ever had with the ex-mayor and his late wife.

  “You know, that fellow couldn’t even be bothered to be a full-time mayor. And it’s a well-paid position—you’d better believe he made sure of that. He just went to monthly City Council meetings and officiated at ribbon-cutting ceremonies, Fourth of July parades, things like that. And he went to lots of fancy dinners. Not a great tipper, from what I heard.”

  “Her big mistake was telling him about the money at all. She should have just divorced him, gotten her friend to claim it, and the two of them could have slipped out of town and been set for the rest of their lives.”

  “Sounds a bit underhanded.”

  “Beats dying.”

  “How’d they figure it out?”

  “Well, you know what they say—follow the money. That Powerball winner was throwing all kinds of money at the guy who was accused, and she didn’t even know him. It was all hush money that the mayor told her to pay out, and she had to do everything he said or he was going to kill her as well. The mayor picked the poor guy because he was desperate for money to keep his nephew alive and because he hated Heather Kelton, so everyone would buy that story.”

  “Don’t forget the attached garage.”

  “What about the attached garage?”

  “Mayor’s terrified about carjackers. Got himself one of those attached garages that opens by remote. You go in. Closes by remote. And you get into the house by the back door. Nice and safe.”

  “Yeah?”

  “But the evening of his wife’s murder, he didn’t do that. ’Cause if he did, he would have found a dead body and a hungry snake. He had Harley leave that warning note so that he’d be able to explain why he didn’t enter the house. But the note was at the front door . . . which he never uses to get into the house.”

  “Murder’s a difficult thing to get right. So many details. Who figured it out?”

  “Wanda Macomber. That’s right. Ain’t that something? I
’ve got a really good feeling about the future now.”

  Some people are born great. Some achieve greatness. And others have greatness thrust upon them. It’s hard to know exactly which category Mayor Wanda Macomber would fall into—probably a bit of all three. The emergency election to fill the vacant mayor’s seat attracted over three dozen write-in candidates. Wanda Macomber won by a landslide.

  Hadn’t she been the one to get to the bottom of the Kelton murder? Wasn’t she the inspirational young lady who had worked at Holloways and not been able to say a word? And look at her now, a role model for everyone on how to overcome a disappointing start in life.

  And wasn’t it Wanda Macomber who made the brilliant suggestion to the City Council about what to do with the lottery money? Everyone knew that it didn’t really belong to Misty Chandler, and it sure didn’t belong to murderer James Kelton. A look at Heather Kelton’s recently revised will showed that she didn’t want anything to go to her relatives, but instead, that the money be distributed to nonprofit concerns, with her contribution duly memorialized.

  So, it had to be given to a charity, right? No, Wanda had pointed out. Charities aren’t the only nonprofit concerns. The City of Oyster Cove is a nonprofit entity. Give the money to the City of Oyster Cove, she suggested. It was probably the most popular idea that had ever been set before the Council. It was quickly and unanimously approved.

  Five percent annual interest on two hundred million dollars is a nice chunk of change. Enough to give every public teacher in town a thirty percent raise, and enough to pay for an extra six months of lifeguard duty on three of Oyster Cove’s popular but unguarded stretches of beach. It was enough to establish a medical assistance fund for The Children’s Hospital, one of whose first beneficiaries was young Eric Osborne. Enough to finance a program of generous food vouchers from Holloways during the winter to families and seniors in need.

  All suggestions had come from the new mayor. She had a sharp mind and a generous heart. She was in the habit of stopping by The Children’s Hospital once a week to read a story to the young patients. For many kids, it was the highlight of their week. One of them wrote an excited letter to his uncle in the state penitentiary.

  “Uncle Harley, the mayor came in again to read to us. She picks the best stories. Today was Horton Hears A Who. Have you ever read that one? You should. You’ll like it even if you don’t have a nice voice to listen to. I really like her voice, Uncle.”

  There was always a little smile of contentment hovering over Harley Osborne’s lips. Eric was guaranteed the best of treatment for as long as it took him to get well. That was worth any price Harley had to pay. And after he got out of prison, he was going to sign up for that program that the mayor and that public defender boyfriend of hers were setting up to help ex-cons find work.

  Much as the children of Oyster Cove couldn’t get enough of Wanda’s voice, the new mayor seemed to spend a lot more time listening to the voices of others rather than showing off her own silky-smooth vocals.

  She established The Mayor’s Office Is Open, a program of easy and regular access to the mayor’s ear. It included three separate weekly sessions of office hours, where anyone could drop in and have a one-on-one directly with the mayor herself, with a near certainty that their concerns and problems would be addressed.

  They never could have approached Mayor Kelton. He only hung out with big, important people. What would be the point? But Wanda made them welcome, and despite the fact that she was the one with a lovely voice, she always encouraged them to speak.

  Wanda had come to realize that it was within her power, and therefore, her responsibility to assist people who had difficulty being heard, just as she once had. Whether they wanted a new traffic light, or potholes filled up, or had a noisy barking neighbor’s dog keeping their baby up all night (That one was easy. Wanda just crept out one night and told that dog to shut up.)

  Several friends from the deaf school would drop by, even though they weren’t all Oyster Cove residents. One of them asked if it was possible to arrange for a sign language interpreter at some of the town’s official events.

  Wanda scoffed. “What do you need a signer for when you have me?” she signed.

  Her guest laughed. Absolutely. What could be better than the mayor signing along to her own spoken presentations?

  Occasionally, people would come in on rather flimsy pretexts. They didn’t really have a big problem for the mayor to solve. They just enjoyed speaking to her. They just enjoyed being heard. That was one thing that the mayor was really great at, and the reason why she came to be so well-loved by so many—making sure that everyone was heard.

  She even got a visit from Misty Chandler, who had emerged from the whole murder scandal relatively unscathed. The local media had painted her rather sympathetically, given that her life had been in jeopardy from the murderous James Kelton, who was currently serving a life sentence.

  “Mayor, I wish you would have a word with the police chief. During the trial, I went home to find footprints on my property, leading right up to my side window. Two sets of footprints. I could be in terrible danger. But the police say there’s nothing they can do, since no crime has been committed.”

  Footprints! Who would have thought that Misty was so observant?

  “Don’t worry about it,” Wanda ordered. “You’ll be fine.”

  “That’s true. I guess there really was nothing to worry about. Oh, now let me get to that sale over at Nina’s.”

  Lydia would stop by the office on occasion, just to revel in the victory of her roommate’s new life.

  “Mayor Macomber, I’d like to register a complaint against my landlady. She keeps raising my rent outrageously and her cat keeps pushing the TV remote under the sofa,” Lydia signed.

  “Ms. Bradshaw. I happen to know that you don’t pay any rent. As for the cat, it appears that the attempt to teach her how to set the DVR has gone awry. I will look into the matter.”

  Not all visits were that relaxing. A special group of four ladies decided that they needed to evaluate the new mayor for themselves.

  “Delphine suggested that we stop by. Said that it couldn’t hurt to have one of our own so well-placed in the local hierarchy.”

  Ah. Witches.

  “I see. Well, I couldn’t be happier to meet you. I’m sure I have a lot to learn from you all.”

  It was gratifying to have the fledgling witch express the appropriate amount of humility. At the same time, hearing Lilith Hazelwood’s voice coming out of her took a lot of getting used to. When it had been attached to the aforementioned Lilith Hazelwood, it had been filled with threats, insults, and danger. Coming out of this sweet young lady, well, it required an attitudinal adjustment. But there seemed to be plenty of upside for the witch community. It’s never a bad idea to have friends in high places.

  Delphine was a very welcome drop-in guest, even though they saw plenty of one another outside the mayor’s office. But there was something about seeing Wanda in the mayor’s seat that never failed to fill Delphine with a huge, albeit irrational, pride. It’s not as if Wanda was her daughter. She was no one’s daughter. But there didn’t have to be any rhyme or reason to it. Delphine was proud of the girl.

  “Mayor Macomber. I hope you intend to do something about that mangled stop sign at the corner of Providence and Tenth Street.”

  “Delphine, you know that you can call me Wanda.”

  “Not a chance. Calling you Mayor reminds me of how well-connected I am. Can’t say that I ever did much hobnobbing in the VIP crowd. It’s kind of a kick.”

  “Jeremy also calls me Mayor Macomber, if you can believe that.”

  “He’s proud of you. Very understandable. As long as he doesn’t call you Mayor in the bedroom.”

  Wanda blushed. “He actually does. That’s a little weird, right? But it’s—”

  “A little kinky. Say no more. Hmm. His ears must be burning.” There was a sharp knock on the door. “That’s your fella.”
<
br />   Delphine and Jeremy greeted one another warmly in passing. Their mutual regard for Wanda had made them fast friends.

  Jeremy delivered a warm hello kiss. “Ready to meet Jonathan’s girlfriend?”

  “Oh, you know I can’t wait to meet her. You must be kind of excited yourself.”

  “Apparently, she’s a lot more worked up about meeting the mayor than meeting Jonathan’s Pops. My ego may be in for a bruising.”

  “Oh, I think you’re tough enough to handle it. Pops.”

  “After you. Mayor.”

  They locked eyes with gleeful exhilaration. Happiness, seven years delayed. And so worth the wait.

  *****

  If Lilith had the power to rid Oyster Cove of all attractive and intriguing men, she certainly would. Oh, they had been useful amusements when she had been alive. But now that she was dead, they were insufferable distractions for her transplant heirs.

  Still, while optimism was a somewhat foreign state of mind for Lilith, she could see her hopes for vengeance making slow but undeniable progress. It was time to drop in on that Delphine Sykes for a status briefing.

  “Did you not say to Wanda Macomber that Fiona Skretting had the strongest of motives to bring about my demise?”

  “Very strong motives, admittedly. Jealousy. Ambition. Resentment. But, Lilith, uncovering your murder is like trying to discover the murderer of that commoner, Heather Kelton. The number of people she had offended or wounded was so numerous, it was very difficult to narrow down the suspects. No offense, but if we try to confine our list of assassins to everyone who resented you, it could become quite an unwieldy search.”

  “Yet Wanda Macomber did it for Heather Kelton, a loathsome commoner whom she owed nothing to. Then, she can do it for me.”

  “But not alone,” Delphine insisted.

  “She will need your assistance. And more. Hmmph. I shall go and see what Dr. Svenson is up to.”

  Perhaps Delphine should have been apprehensive, but Dr. Svenson’s transplant witches had brought a number of treasured new connections into her life.