The Witch's Voice (A Cozy Witch Mystery) (One Part Witch Book 3)

by Iris Kincaid

  “I see. Anything further to add, Ms. Jarvis?”

  “I just wanted to expose her for the insufferable, sadistic horror that she was,” Amelia said defiantly.

  “One last question. You usually have Saturdays and Sundays off? Standard work week? But the week that Heather Kelton was killed, you took Tuesday off as a personal day. Why?”

  “It wasn’t a personal day. It was a sick day. I just wasn’t feeling well.”

  Clearly, that struck Wanda and the rest of the jury as a rather fishy coincidence. What were the odds?

  “Thank you, Ms. Jarvis. That will be all.”

  Next up was Drew Bishop’s highly anticipated testimony. He was the man who had come in and screamed and threatened Heather and had to be removed by the police. He was in his late thirties, and had the sturdy build and rough hands of a contractor.

  “Mr. Bishop. Thank you for coming in. I know that your life is very demanding right now,” Jeremy began. “Can you tell the court who your wife is and describe your last encounter with Heather Kelton?”

  “My wife is Shelley French. She works in Accounts Receivable at The Pearce Call Center. She’s always had a sickly disposition. Since she was a child, she’s had to take it easy. Doesn’t mean she’s not smart or doesn’t care about doing her job. She does. But it’s dangerous for her to overdo it. She’s on all kinds of medication.

  “So, she had to call in sick. We thought that a few days’ rest would set her right. But she was still so tired and so weak. So, I had to keep calling in sick for her and say she needed to stay out a little longer. She had been out one full week when Heather demanded that she come in or she would lose her job.

  “We can’t afford that. So, she went in. And she did her best, but she collapsed. Fell right to the floor. Had to be rushed to the hospital, and that’s where she remains today, over a month later. Hooked up to IVs and all kinds of equipment. Who knows what will happen to her? We’ve got two kids. That’s their mama. They . . . they . . .” He shook his head, unable to continue.

  “That’s why you came in to the call center to confront Heather Kelton. You were angry at her and held her responsible for your wife’s collapse. Isn’t that true?”

  “Of course, she was responsible. Shelley might not have been getting better at home, but she wasn’t getting worse. Trying to go to work caused a lot of damage, and Heather Kelton never should’ve threatened to fire her.”

  “As you are aware, your wife is not the only person whose life Heather Kelton may have impacted in such a negative way. My client Harley Osborne is proof that Heather was willing to fire capriciously. Obviously, the big question is, did her insensitive actions cause one of her employees or anyone acting on their behalf to kill her? Who do you think killed Heather Kelton, Mr. Bishop?”

  “Objection. Speculation,” the prosecutor noted.

  “Sustained.”

  But it was a question that Drew Bishop didn’t mind answering. “If Harley Osborne killed her, then bravo—that’s all I’ve got to say.”

  Wanda had been doing her best to focus on the rights of the victim and her entitlement to justice, but man, Heather Kelton was an awfully difficult woman to feel sorry for.

  The last witness of the day had been a difficult judgment call for Jeremy. He didn’t want the trial to turn into a circus. But, there were numerous eyewitness accounts that this person had uttered thinly veiled threats toward the victim. And who had a greater affinity for snakes than probably anyone else in all of Oyster Cove? It would have been a cowardly omission not to call her in. And so, Fiona Skretting took the stand.

  Now to be clear, Fiona Skretting doesn’t do what Fiona Skretting doesn’t want to do. She could have made her summons disappear, and if anyone decided to hassle her about it, she could make them disappear as well. But this trial was such a singularly delicious opportunity to wreak havoc with the commoners, just as she had been terrorizing them for weeks with her boa constrictor literally being used as a boa.

  She was also intrigued by the knowledge that that new transplant witch was on the jury. Combined with the identity of the victim, the insufferable Heather Kelton, this added up an event that she wouldn’t have missed for the world.

  It would be a very useful opportunity to remind the commoners of Oyster Cove who was in charge now. Her floor length, long-sleeved black dress, was a stark contrast to the light summer attire worn by almost everyone else. She was definitely out to make an impression.

  “Ms. Skretting. Thank you for coming. Could you please state your name and occupation for the court?”

  “I am Fiona Skretting, as you all should already know. And the profession . . .”

  Umm, magical badass? Wanda speculated.

  “Independently wealthy. I have far better things to do with my time than work.”

  “I understand that you and Heather Kelton were not friends, and that you had a number of contentious encounters. What were your impressions of her?”

  “She was a blight on society who will only be missed by few sales girls who lost out on some big commissions. The rest of us will enjoy the peace and quiet.”

  “And yet, she was a human being and she was entitled to life, as we all are.”

  “There, we’re going to have to agree to disagree. Some people are most definitely not entitled to life.” Fiona glanced over at Wanda with evil glee.

  “Yes, I suppose we are going to disagree on that point. But, Ms. Skretting, could we talk for a moment about snakes?”

  Fiona smiled innocently. “What about them?”

  “Soon after Heather Kelton was killed by a poisonous snake, you have been seen around town with a boa constrictor draped around your neck. It seems, in its timing, to be directly related to the murder. If only as a statement. Can you please explain why you started to wear that unusual accessory?”

  “Snakes are so maligned. Most of them are as harmless as a pet dog. But they were regarded with such mass hysteria after that woman was murdered—such awful things being stated about these innocent creatures—that I took it upon myself to demonstrate to everyone how sweet and harmless they are. Not to mention practical. I live in the forest, you see, with field mice always getting into the house. My cat dispenses with a good number of them. But there are limits, even on his appetite. My snake takes up the slack. I hardly even have to buy him feed. And my home is mouse-free.”

  “So, you are telling us that your motivation for acquiring the snake was to prove how harmless snakes are?”

  “Why, yes. To help people get over their irrational fears and prejudices, and to embrace snakes for the beautiful and singular creatures that they are.” And with that, Fiona reached into the breast pocket of her black coat and pulled out a twelve-inch blue- and yellow-striped slithering beauty. She flung it out into the audience, where it landed right in front of the accused, Harley Osborne, who squealed with fright, and clamored to get away from the snake.

  If it was Fiona Skretting’s stated goal to help people overcome the fear of snakes, she was doing a terrible job. Half the people in the courtroom bolted for the door.

  “Order! Order in the court!” the judge yelled out over the chaotic din of noise. “Everyone be seated. Bailiff, get that snake out of here.”

  The bailiff looked as if he really didn’t get paid enough to add this duty to his job prescription.

  “If I could just ask Ms. Skretting one last question, Your Honor, I’m sure she will do the best job of retrieving her own snake. After all, we wouldn’t want to harm it.”

  “Continue, counselor. Quickly.”

  “Ms. Skretting, did you kill Heather Kelton?”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot claim that accomplishment.”

  “Have you ever killed anyone?” Not exactly germane to the Kelton case, but Jeremy couldn’t help himself.

  “I believe the appropriate response to that question is . . . I’m going to have to take the fifth,” Fiona said, with a wink at Jeremy.

  There was no doubt in the mi
nds of anyone in that room that Fiona Skretting wasn’t guilty of some kind of unspeakable crime. But who, where, when, what, and how were questions that the good people of Oyster Cove would probably never know.

  Lilith was entirely confident that she knew precisely where all of Fiona’s bodies were buried. They weren’t nearly so numerous as her own body count. But then, Fiona was always so insecure and competitive about Lilith’s vastly greater destructive abilities. She could strut and brag about being Oyster Cove’s reigning witch. Anyone who had known Lilith would know how poorly Fiona fared in comparison.

  More to the point, Fiona had made it very apparent that she was aware of Wanda Macomber and her transplanted abilities. Would any harm come to Wanda? That would certainly erase any value the young woman held for her in uncovering the truth behind her own demise. An asset like Wanda needed to be protected. She would need to lean on that worthless Delphine again. Fiona’s boldness was accelerating and needed to be curbed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  They say that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Is that what had happened to Fiona Skretting? Wanda wondered. She was taking a long walk along a boisterously crowded beach filled with squealing children, enthusiastic surfers, the colorful mix of locals, and weekend escapees from Boston. So normal. That’s what she had always wanted herself. Normalcy.

  But she would never be completely normal now. And she wasn’t entirely sure about the road ahead. Would her powers turn her into a frightening menace like Fiona Skretting? Or maybe something not quite that bad, but there was still a multitude of ways in which to abuse this rare ability.

  She had wanted a voice. She would’ve settled for her old mousy voice, and not knowing anything better, been completely grateful. She also wouldn’t mind getting a new voice that was beautiful, deep and resonant, but just in an ordinary human kind of way.

  Having the witch’s powers and using them was already starting to become second nature to her, and after watching Fiona’s performance, she wasn’t quite sure she shouldn’t be doing more to do things on the up and up. She wanted to accomplish great things in life. She wanted to be able to offer her opinion, be listened to, and speak persuasively—but in a way that was within the grasp of everyone. She knew that the powers were part of her, yet she wanted her words to have value independent of them. Especially in her duties as the foreman. Foolish words coming from a beautiful voice would not be of value to anyone.

  On the other hand . . . speaking of questionable uses of her power, she had at least one more excursion in mind that might require a little gentle coercion—all for the good of the case, of course.

  The jury wouldn’t convene until one PM, and one question had been nagging at Wanda. She and Jeremy had discussed how excessively creative it was to kill someone using a snake. Why not just use a gun? Perhaps that had been the killer’s first thought as well. Perhaps the snake had become an extraordinary Plan B, inspired by the snake charmer’s exhibit at the summer fair.

  Who in Oyster Cove had purchased a gun in the months leading up to Heather Kelton’s death? Perhaps it would be a random and unknown string of names. Perhaps it would be one of the current suspects. Jeremy could probably get the information from his hacker, but it sounded as if there would be a small wait time, and there’s absolutely no time to wait.

  At the public records office, Wanda was able to demand access to the lists of registered gun owners, swear the clerk to silence, and tell him to have a great day. There were two familiar names on the list, one that didn’t surprise her and one that was a very odd surprise.

  Drew Bishop, the angry husband whose wife had collapsed at work, had purchased a gun really, really recently. Jeremy would be interested to know that.

  The other familiar name was intriguing, but she also felt a bit intrusive in someone else’s private business. It was Stuart Potter, the twenty-five-year-old juror who looked as if he was going to be a bit of a pit-bull in the deliberations. The purchase had occurred over a year ago.

  So, what did Stuart Potter need with a gun? Well, it was all legal and above-board, so he really didn’t need a reason. It seemed wildly unlikely to be related to Heather Kelton’s death. Besides, he was a fellow juror, not a witness and not a suspect. For sake of his privacy, she probably didn’t need to mention him to Jeremy.

  *****

  “Mr. Bishop, you recently bought and registered a handgun. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “My question regards the timing of this purchase. You registered the gun four days after your wife collapsed and went into the hospital.”

  “If you say so. I don’t remember the exact date.”

  “But perhaps you remember the motive for the purchase. Why did you get that gun, Mr. Bishop?”

  “Plenty of folks get a gun for protection.”

  “Are you saying that you got that gun for protection?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly why I got it. To protect my family.”

  “Let me get this timeline correct. Your wife collapses and is in a medically dangerous condition. You are beside yourself with anger and worry. You have two children and they are beside themselves too. The thought of losing her is unbearable. You go and give Heather Kelton a piece of your mind about the insensitive way that she caused your wife’s medical crisis. And then you are arrested and thrown into jail for two days, and charges were dropped.”

  “Yeah, charges were dropped. I think Adam Pearce told her to drop them because he didn’t want there to be bad PR surrounding the company when people found out how badly she’d treated my wife and how badly she’d treated everyone who worked under her.”

  “I see. So charges were dropped, and you went home, and then what were your priorities?”

  “My priorities? My kids, of course. My wife. I wanted to see her every day. And my job. With my wife in the hospital, losing her income, and dealing with the medical bills, I couldn’t afford to lose my job.”

  “That is a lot of responsibility on your shoulders. A sick wife, children, a job, and medical bills. A lot to think about. A lot to take care of. What I can’t figure out is how, in the midst of all that, just four days after what had happened, you needed to run out and get a gun, because all of a sudden, you needed the protection.”

  “Well, it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone as long as I didn’t break the law. This trial is all about who killed Heather Kelton, isn’t it? What’s my gun have to do with anything? She wasn’t killed with a gun. She was killed with a snake.”

  “That’s right. She was killed with a nasty poisonous snake that the killer probably purchased from the snake handler who was at our county fair early this summer. Did you go to the snake show, Mr. Bishop?”

  “Sure. Sure, I did. Everybody did.”

  “Hmm. If you’ll indulge me a few more questions about the gun. How old are you, Mr. Bishop?”

  “Forty-seven years old.”

  “Have you ever owned a gun before?”

  “No. This is my first.”

  “Again, the timing seems remarkable. Of all the moments in life to buy a gun, it strikes me as odd that it happened after a loud, angry confrontation with Heather Kelton, after a two-day stint in prison, and during the time when family obligations might have made a gun the last thing on your mind. It’s time to be honest, Mr. Bishop. What were your plans for that gun?”

  Drew Bishop snorted. “Maybe it was to kill myself. Maybe if my wife died, I needed to be ready to kill myself.”

  “And if your children were to lose their mother, then you’d have them lose their father too? And have no one to protect them or take care of them? I don’t think so, Mr. Bishop. I think that everyone in this court can tell that you love your kids. We don’t believe that for a minute. So why don’t you tell us something that sounds a little closer to the truth?”

  Drew sighed. Maybe, after all, the real truth could be confessed. After all, his gun was safely at home, unused.

  “I had some pretty dar
k thoughts, angry thoughts. If my wife died because of what that woman did, then yeah, I was going to do it. That’s exactly what I was thinking. I guess I can admit that now. But as you can clearly see for yourself, the gun was never used.”

  “But it was your intention to kill Heather Kelton if your wife died?”

  “Yeah, it was. My wife is still alive, thank God. And I was spared the crime of retribution by someone whose life must have been ruined by that woman. Now that’s the truth. You gonna put me in jail for having bad thoughts?”

  “Your candor is much appreciated, Mr. Bishop. Nothing further.”

  Wanda couldn’t help but admire the way Jeremy had handled himself in the interrogation. He was almost as effective as pulling the truth out of people as she was. Only he was due a lot more credit for it.

  The jurors had a free afternoon, and Wanda couldn’t help but hope that she and Jeremy could cross paths again. Just to discuss the case. No harm in taking a quick look over at the law library. As luck would have it, he was at the law library parking lot, waiting for her.

  “Hey, there’s actually some stuff that I wouldn’t mind brainstorming with you. I don’t mind the jury having some doubts about Drew, but I’m not going to press that. Someone else is just rattling in my brain. But, if it’s all right with you, could we make a quick stop over at my place? I promised that I would be home before two o’clock. And it’s kind of important.”

  Promised whom? Who did he live with? Who do people usually live with—a girlfriend or a wife? That would certainly explain why he’d dropped out of sight seven years ago. He was going on with his life in a normal kind of way. With someone who could speak. That was exactly the scenario that she had always guessed at. But . . . was it possible that woman was still in his life? And if she was, what was up with all the electric vibes that she thought she was picking up on?