Wicked Witch Murder by Leslie Meier Page B

an effort to keep the rain out, then decided to tackle the cat. Noticing Piewocket wore a collar, Lucy cut a length of ribbon and fastened it like a leash. The cat didn’t seem to mind being touched, so Lucy scooped him up and tucked him under her arm and stepped outside, making sure the door locked behind her. Then she hurried down the street as fast as she could go with the squirming cat and the tote bag and the umbrella, eager to get back to safer territory. She was out of breath when she reached the car, yanked the door open, and tossed the bag inside. Still holding the cat, she seated herself in the driver’s seat, setting Piewocket down on the passenger seat. He seemed content to sit there, but she tied the ribbon the door handle so he couldn’t wander around the car and get underfoot. Then she was off, cruising down the street, keeping an eye on the cat. It was only when she reached the stop sign on Main Street that she began to relax, realizing she had a decision to make.
    She could go straight home and deliver the witching supplies to Diana, or she could go back to the office, where there was plenty of work waiting for her. It wasn’t just her strong work ethic that made the decision easy—it was also the fact that if Diana had the supplies, she would undoubtedly use them, and Lucy didn’t want her girls to take part in any spell-casting. But when she arrived with the cat in tow and told Ted about her errand, he was all over her.
    â€œYou have to write it up,” he said. “It’s a terrific feature story. ‘My Bewitching Houseguest,’ something like that. Readers will love it.”
    Lucy was horrified. “No!” she protested, putting down a bowl of water for Piewocket, who ignored it and focused his attention on Ted, rubbing his face against his legs. “Diana’s got enemies—her shop was vandalized—I don’t want them painting pentagrams on my house!”
    â€œShe’ll be back home by the time the story comes out,” said Ted, picking up the cat and setting it in his lap. Piewocket half closed his eyes as Ted scratched behind his ears. “And your story will show that Wicca is completely harmless and that there’s nothing to fear from witchcraft, right?”
    â€œAre you crazy?” asked Lucy. “This guy who I now know was a witch was burned alive in the woods, I find a note that tells Diana to burn now or burn in hell, and you want me to write a puff piece on witchcraft? I don’t think a cute story about casting spells to get rid of poison ivy is going to change anybody’s mind, and I sure don’t want some loony thinking that I’m allowing a witch to cast spells in my house.” Lucy paused for breath. “And I have kids. I don’t want my girls getting involved in this stuff.”
    It was then that her phone rang, and she snatched up the receiver. The caller didn’t wait for her to identify herself.
    â€œIke Stoughton here,” he began. “I’ve got a problem with your girls.”
    Lucy’s heart sank. What were they up to? “What exactly—”
    â€œThey called my girl and invited her to a spell-casting.”
    Lucy could hear the anger in his voice—anger she shared. “That’s outrageous,” she said. “I absolutely agree with you. When is this, uh, event supposed to take place?”
    â€œI’m not sure. They were going to call back with the details.”
    â€œI will talk to them,” vowed Lucy. “They had no business involving Abby—.”
    â€œIs it true that witch, that Diana woman, is staying at your house?” he demanded.
    â€œWell, yes,” admitted Lucy.
    â€œYour home is your castle, and I can’t tell you who you can have as a houseguest—”
    Lucy didn’t like the way this conversation was headed. “That’s right.”
    â€œBut I have to warn you that she is a very dangerous