Charmed Bones

by Carolyn Haines

  I arrived at Dahlia House just in time for a second breakfast, as Bilbo Baggins would suggest. And, in my defense, I’d skipped the first one for some aerobic exercise in the Musgrove woods. Walking up the front steps, my mouth was watering at my plans for a delicious sweet red pepper, onion, and soy sausage frittata. The front door stopped me cold. Huge claw marks raked down the wood, scoring the new paint job. Whatever had clawed my door had meant to get in, and the marks indicated a paw of enormous size. I whipped out my cell phone, took some photos, and messaged them to Coleman.

  His response was instant and gratifying. He was on his way over.

  Before I could pocket my phone, it rang. To my dismay, I saw that Kitten Fontana was calling. I’d delivered Corey to her car—and her clutches. To my surprise, I’d had a pang for the boy as Kitten lit into him about how much time and money he’d cost her. Not a word about her concerns for his safety. But Corey was safe; I had no clue what she wanted now. As far as I knew, my business with her was done. Nonetheless, I answered. She could stop payment on her check and I wouldn’t put it past her.

  “I want you and Tinkie to poke into those witches.”

  “To what purpose?” I didn’t mind another case, especially one that would allow me to scratch the itch of my natural curiosity, but I suspected Kitten had an agenda. Like most manipulative people, she didn’t mind trapping the innocent in her machinations. I preferred not to be crushed.

  “Sunflower County is a God-fearing place. We can’t have a bunch of Wiccans teaching the local schoolchildren.”

  I still had the Wiccan material that the sister witches had given me at the school board meeting and I picked it up from the hall table. I was within eyeshot of the wet bar and talking to Kitten really, really made me want a drink. It was too early in the day to start drinking. Besides, Coleman was on the way over.

  I picked up the Wiccan Rede. It was a simple rule: “An it harm none, do as ye will.” The Harrington sisters had provided a brief explanation. The goal of every Wiccan was to live a life that harmed no living thing, including the planet. Wiccans worshiped nature and the seasons, the natural world of time and place. They honored the three stages of life for the female: maiden, mother, crone. And they worshiped the Earth as the Mother Goddess.

  “They don’t really look dangerous to me,” I said to Kitten. “If you don’t like the school, don’t send Corey there.”

  “I’ve notified the Anti-Satan League. They’ll be paying a visit to Sunflower County. They’ll root out the Satanic tentacles of those witches, and you’ll see. When you worship the devil, there’s always a price to be paid.”

  “You’re sounding a little stressed out, Kitten.” I couldn’t help myself.

  “I’m on the front line of saving this community from hellfire and damnation.”

  “Why not give the witches a chance?” I said. “Some new blood in Zinnia. Certainly education in Mississippi could use a boost. I like the idea of science and nature-based education.”

  “You would.” She spat the two words like bullets.

  “What is it you want me to find out about them?”

  “What are they really up to? I saw the tabloid story saying they were raising Elvis from the dead.”

  “Kitten, that’s impossible.” I didn’t mention I’d seen her with the author of that ridiculous article.

  “There was a photo of them flying around on broomsticks.”

  Dear God, Kitten was either dumb as a rock or getting ready to work this angle for her own benefit. “That was Photoshopped. I would have thought since you know Esmeralda Grimes you would know that.”

  Silence greeted my statement, and I had a moment of satisfaction.

  “Those women are up to no good. You can count on that.”

  “What do you want me to find out?”

  “Where are they getting their funding? That would be a start.”

  “I’ll need another retainer.” I didn’t feel bad at all for hitting her pocketbook.

  “I’ll drop a check by the bank as soon as it opens.”

  “Perfect.”

  The rattle of the windowpanes in the parlor alerted me to something going on that had nothing to do with Kitten Fontana. I was expecting Coleman, and my heart did a little triple beat. “Gotta go,” I said. “I’ll prepare a report when I have some information.”

  “You’re on my dime now, so get busy.”

  I hung up without responding. I didn’t trust myself not to be snarky. Besides, someone was in the front parlor of Dahlia House and I had to find out who it was. I eased to the front parlor and stopped.

  “How would you like to spend your wedding night with a bullfrog?”

  Endora, the witch and mother of Samantha from one of my favorite old TV shows, Bewitched, stood at the wet bar making a dirty vodka martini. Her chartreuse gossamer dress floated around her as she walked toward me. “That Darren was such a namby-pamby, but Coleman Peters, now he could get my broomstick in high gear. You’d better jump on that ride and shout hallelujah before some other woman snatches up the goods.”

  I knew exactly who stood in my parlor. “Jitty, you are death to romance.” I walked past her and made myself a Jack and water. I needed it. To heck with the fact it was barely noon. I’d fallen into a pit with a juvenile delinquent, interviewed witches, and dealt with Kitten Fontana. I deserved a drink.

  “A little early in the day for hard liquor, wouldn’t you say?” Endora asked as she raised her martini glass in a toast and then drained it. I had to admire her upswept hairdo. It was lacquered into place. I was reminded of some fashion tips I’d read in magazines from the fifties—women were advised to wrap their hairdos in toilet tissue at night so they didn’t get messed up.

  “What was that in your hand?” I indicated the martini glass. “Distilled water?”

  “I’m a witch. And I’m dead. I’m impervious to the effects of alcohol.”

  “Remind me never to die. Alcohol is the only tonic that allows me to put up with you.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcasm.

  “Time is marching right over you,” Endora said. “Have you noticed your earlobes are bigger? You realize your nose and earlobes keep growing until you die. Then in the coffin, your hair and fingernails grow and curl.”

  “What tangent are you on?” She was truly driving me mad. I didn’t want those images in my head. “I can avoid all of this by donating my body to science.”

  “That might be the only chance your body has to do a good deed. You act like a cloistered nun. When you gonna jump that man’s bones and seal the deal?” As she talked, she slowly shifted from Endora to Jitty.

  “Couldn’t keep up the classy witchy act for long, could you?” I had to get rid of her. Coleman was on the way over, and if I had my druthers, we’d say our hellos while doing the horizontal mamba. Jitty was always gigging me because I couldn’t get laid, but the truth was, Coleman and I were both willing. It was the rest of the world—Jitty included—that wouldn’t cooperate. Folks wouldn’t give us an hour of peace so we might get our locomotion going. And the idea that Jitty might be sneaking a peek at us was enough to shrivel my desire.

  “I promise to leave you alone.” She grinned as if she’d read my thoughts.

  “I’m not sure I believe you.” I swallowed half my drink.

  “You have my word of honor. If you get that man in your bedroom, I won’t peek. I’ll even guard the door from your partner. That last encounter was a fiasco.”

  She was right about that. “Coleman is on the way over now.”

  Jitty swirled around, her dress a green blur, and she was gone.

  Had I known getting rid of her would be that easy, I might have backed off the drink. But it was too late now. I finished it off just as Coleman’s cruiser pulled into my front drive. When he got out of the car, my heart pounded so hard I thought for sure the house would vibrate. It wasn’t just sex, though I’d anticipated making love with Coleman for so long now that I thought I might burst into flames at the
very idea of it. Taking this step was a journey from which there was no backtracking. If the romance failed, the friendship would die. I didn’t know if I could face my life without Coleman in it, even if it was only as a friend.

  I heard his tread on the front steps. He crossed the porch and paused to examine the claw marks. I opened the door. For a moment, looking into his blue eyes, I couldn’t breathe. And then it didn’t matter. I was in his arms, swept away by his kiss.

  We’d learned our lesson about unlocked doors, and even though Tinkie had a key I knew she wouldn’t use it if she saw the patrol car in the drive. I locked the door anyway. Taking Coleman’s hand, I led him up the stairs to my bedroom. There wasn’t a single sign of Jitty. There was nothing or no one to interfere.

  I still had my doubts, but more compelling were my needs. I loved Coleman. Given a chance, that love would grow and expand in many directions. I had no doubt, though, that he was a man who could match me, season for season. This was the second chance I’d been offered, and I meant to take it.

  Our last thwarted encounter had been hot, delirious, and deliciously frantic. This time, I set the pace at a crawl. Button by button, I undid his starched shirt. “One of the things I love about you is this shirt,” I told him. “I can smell sunshine and my childhood whenever you’re close. It reminds me of a time when I was safe and the days stretched out before me like a golden path. You were a part of that, though most days I thought you were more of an annoyance than an asset.”

  He kissed my fingers and then his lips moved to my neck. “I always knew you’d eventually see me in a romantic light.”

  Of all the men in my life, Coleman connected me to the past and to the land. Those were places where my heart dwelled, places where Coleman’s smile lingered and I could still hear his laughter on a riverbank as the sun set. We’d grown up riding horses and cruising in convertibles with the radio blaring. He’d known my parents, and the circumstances that had stolen them from me. He’d been at their funeral, a lanky teenage boy who hadn’t tried to comfort me with empty words.

  I’d loved Coleman for as long as I could remember. A deep love forged in a time and place that had vanished from the Delta I loved with my entire soul. Now, we were taking that love into the future. Would it be strong enough to sustain us? Only time would tell.

  I kissed him, letting him know how much I hungered for him. When he picked me up and put me on the bed, I was done with the teasing and tantalizing. I wanted to make love without delay.

  He’d just unbuckled his pants and slid out of them when both of our cell phones began to ring.

  “No.” I grabbed his phone and mine and tossed them under the bed. “Whatever it is can wait for half an hour.”

  “Damn straight.” He unzipped my jeans and pulled them down my body in one swift motion. My shirt and bra followed. “You’re a beautiful woman, Sarah Booth.”

  I felt as shy as a maiden as I held out my arms to him. We kissed and whatever worries I’d had a half hour before disappeared. There was only Coleman’s touch, our bodies skin to skin.

  Outside the door Sweetie Pie set up a raucous howl and several car horns began to blare.

  “What the devil?” Coleman had great powers of concentration but neither of us could ignore the fray. Coleman walked to the window and peeked out the curtains. I was treated to an extraordinary view of a fit man in the prime of his life.

  “Quit staring,” he said, without even looking at me.

  “Quit posing,” I replied.

  “Hellfire, DeWayne is coming around the house to try the backdoor.”

  That motivated me to jump from the bed and find my jeans. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I said. “We are cursed.”

  Coleman picked up his clothes and dressed in silence. “Saturday night, have a bag packed. We’re going to Memphis where no one can find us.”

  “It’s a date,” I said as I pulled my shirt down. Together we walked down the stairs and to the front door. When we pulled it open, Tinkie and DeWayne were waiting for us.

  “Sorry,” DeWayne mumbled, though he couldn’t stop grinning. “There’s a protest against the Wiccan school brewing. A busload of protesters are on the way out to Musgrove Manor to picket.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Coleman said. “Do we really care if people protest? It’s a First Amendment right.”

  “Alvin from the pawn shop said some of the protesters were in there buying paint guns and ammo. Some had real guns.”

  Coleman sighed. “If they take any aggressive action, we’re going to arrest them and they’re going to jail. We’ll hold them as long as we can.”

  “I’ll meet you at Musgrove Manor,” DeWayne said, turning back to his car. As he passed Tinkie, she gave him a high five. Coleman followed DeWayne, giving Tinkie the stink eye.

  When the lawmen were gone, I cast a long look at my partner. “You really don’t want me to consummate this relationship, do you?”

  “Honey, I do. But you have the worst timing on the planet. Did you ever consider making love when the sun has gone down—not in the middle of a workday?”

  “I thought you were more of a ‘strike while the iron is hot’ kind of gal. And if you’re going to get pregnant, you and Oscar are going to have to put in some time making love.”

  “I got my booty call.” Tinkie was full of herself. “In Oscar’s office. At the bank! Oscar may not approve of the idea of a spell cast by witches, but he is certainly not opposed to a little hot action on his desktop.”

  “Your daddy would fire him and disown you.” I was shocked. I couldn’t help it. Proper ladies didn’t have sex on the bank president’s desk—even if they were married. And Tinkie was the leading lady of the Delta, the Number One Daddy’s Girl, the keeper of the rulebook.

  “You’re just jealous.” Her laughter was like tinkling bells. Whatever she’d gotten from Oscar had put her in a delightful mood. “Let’s go to Musgrove Manor. You won’t be getting any loving from Coleman and I want to see who shows up at the protest.”

  She was right. Any chance of amore had fled. Again. We might as well indulge our curiosity, and I needed to gather some info to earn another paycheck from Kitten. I rounded up the critters and stopped at the front door. Gone was the ugly rental car and in its place a Chinese red Cadillac touring sedan. Oscar had pulled some strings to get one for Tinkie to try out, and it was a five-star beauty. Whatever she’d done on the desktop, Oscar had gotten busy finding this car for her.

  We tore down the road to Musgrove Manor and arrived just as a busload of people unloaded in front of Pandora’s Box, the gift shop the Harringtons had opened. The protesters, many of them carrying signs saying WITCHES GO HOME, or BAN WITCHCRAFT, or NO SPELLCASTING HERE picketed in front of the gift shop. I recognized a few of the local townspeople who either didn’t have jobs or who might be on the protest organizer’s payroll. That would be one Kitten Fontana, who sported a T-shirt that said WITCHES MUST DIE. At her side was Esmeralda Grimes.

  “This could get ugly,” I said, calling Cece at the newspaper. When she answered, I told her what was happening. “Pick up Millie, please. She can’t miss this.” Millie would be heartbroken if she missed the scandalous fun. She’d love this showdown.

  “Roger that, Local Gumshoe.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Just trying out some old CB talk. I figured that would have been your handle, if you’d had a CB radio.”

  “That’s a really big if, as in not ever. Cece, I really don’t want to know how your mind works. Just step on it and get over to the old dairy. Bring a photographer.”

  “Ten-four, Big Mama.”

  Tinkie and I parked a good distance away and walked to the manor house, where the three sisters were sitting on the steps. They wore wicked little flirty skirts, black hose, pointed shoes, and black-and-white polka-dot sweaters. They were high-fashion witches.

  “What’s going on?” Hope asked us.

  “Apparently, Kitten ha
s organized a protest against you.”

  “For what? We haven’t done anything.” Hope’s mouth quirked up. “Yet. But tonight we’re planning on a moon dance.”

  “To what end?” I asked.

  “To honor the Goddess and the full moon. It’s a time when women are in their power. Hecate shines on all of us, influencing the tides, our cycles, the seasons. It’s all about the power of women. You should join us.”

  “I’ll be there,” Tinkie said. “I’m feeling very feminine and very powerful.”

  “And soon you’ll be very pregnant,” Faith said.

  “I know. I can’t wait.”

  Tinkie’s certainty was like a spike in my heart. She was bound to get hurt with this foolishness about fertility spells. Before we left the property, I’d have a talk with Faith. It was one thing to play at being witches and wear sexy little outfits and sell lavender-scented potions and concoctions in colored bottles designed to bring love into a lonely person’s heart. It was something else to promise my partner a baby.

  “It might be wiser to hold off on moon ceremonies until Kitten Fontana simmers down.” I wanted to word my warning a lot stronger, but I realized I was spitting in the wind. These sisters were going to do whatever they wanted and the consequences be damned. It was almost as if they were flaunting their beliefs in the hopes of starting trench warfare.

  “We aren’t harming anyone.”

  Except maybe my partner, if she got her hopes up over a baby she’d never be able to conceive. “Doesn’t matter. You can have all the rights in the world, but if you stir up some of the people who are afraid of you, you’re still going to pay the price. Let things calm down. Or hold your ceremonies privately.”

  “Part of our reason for coming to this community is to teach the people here about what the Wiccan religion really is. We don’t consort with Satan or hurt people. We’re all about respecting others and caring for Mother Earth. How can anyone view that as harmful?” Hope’s passion was easy to see.