Bond With Death (6 page)

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Authors: Bill Crider

Tags: #Mystery

BOOK: Bond With Death
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I
t was hard to follow up on something like that. Jack fiddled with his fork while Sally just stared at Vera. After a few seconds had passed in silence, Sally looked at Jack.
“Did you know about this?”
Jack nodded. He seemed a little embarrassed.
“It's not like I go around turning people into toads,” Vera said.
“You turn me into an animal now and then,” Jack said, and Sally had to laugh.
Even Vera smiled. “That's different.”
It was getting later, and the restaurant was filling up. Sally said that it might be a good idea for them to finish their meal and then go somewhere else to talk. She didn't think discussing Vera's occult leanings in the Adobe Hacienda was a good idea, no matter how private their booth was.
“We can go to my house,” she said. “I'll make some coffee.”
“I could use it,” Jack said. “That was a strong margarita.”
Sally was no longer feeling in the least giddy. She was as sober as she'd ever been. Finding out that a faculty member was a witch had that effect.
 
Sally arrived at her house first and put the Acura in the garage. She got the Ladysmith out of the trunk and stowed it away before Vera
and Jack got there. When the doorbell rang, she'd already started the coffee.
Lola came out of the bedroom to see the visitors. When she'd looked them over with disdain, she went back to the dark room and got under the bed. She wasn't fond of visitors.
Sally ushered her guests back to the kitchen where they sat at the table in the breakfast area.
“The coffee smells good,” Jack said. “What kind is it?”
“Hazelnut,” Sally told him. “I hope you don't mind flavored coffee.”
“It's fine,” Jack said, looking at her coffeemaker. “What the heck is that thing?”
“It grinds the beans and then makes the coffee,” Sally said. “It tastes fresher that way.”
They sat at the table and made small talk about the college until the coffee was ready. Sally got up and poured it into some mugs she'd bought as a gift for a relative. She'd liked them so much that she'd kept them and bought another gift.
When the coffee had cooled a little, Jack took a sip.
“That's really good,” he said.
“I'm glad you like it. Now, about this witch business.”
“You're thinking about Samantha,” Vera said. “Admit it.”
“Not to mention Darrin and Endora.”
“I always liked Uncle Arthur and Aunt Esmeralda best,” Jack said.
“Well,” Vera said, “it's not like that at all.”
“I had a feeling it wasn't,” Sally said. “What is it like?”
“First of all,” Vera said, “I'm not really a witch. I'm a Wiccan. But it would be hard to explain the difference to somebody like Jennifer Jackson.”
“It's not going to be easy to explain it to me, either,” Sally said. She took a swallow of coffee and put her mug down on the table. “But you can try.”
Vera sighed. She put both hands around her coffee mug as if she were warming them.
“All right. Wicca is a religion. Some Wiccans think that Wicca and witchcraft are synonyms. Not me. Admittedly, some Wiccans do magic, but I don't. I'm more interested in communing with the Goddess. Witches aren't into that, for the most part. They like doing spells and that sort of thing, mostly they're frauds just doing it to get money from gullible people. But some of them are serious. They're best avoided.”
Sally thought about Roy Don Talon. She remembered that the Salem witches had supposedly written their names in the Devil's book.
“So where does Satan come into it?” she asked.
“He doesn't,” Vera said. “Not with me or any other Wiccan. Satan is a Christian and Islamic concept. Wiccans don't even recognize his existence. We're pagans, not devil worshipers.”
“Pagans, but not devil worshipers?” Sally said. “Forget about explaining things to Jennifer Jackson. I'd like to hear you explain that idea to Roy Don Talon.”
“Me, too,” Jack said, grinning. “Some people think that anybody who worships in a pagan way is really worshiping Satan. Even if they say they aren't, they're only kidding themselves. Roy Don Talon believes that, I'll bet.”
“Are you a Wiccan?” Sally asked him.
“Nope. I'm just dating one. She's goddess enough for me.”
Sally thought that Jack's new relationship was making him a little sappy.
“And why is it important that I know about Wiccan business?” she said.
“Because,” Vera told her, “you're the one who's being accused of witchcraft. I'm wondering if I'm the real target.”
“I don't think so,” Sally said. “After all, whoever sent that e-mail was basing it on my last name.”
“That could be just a ruse.”
Sally didn't think so, and she wondered aloud why anyone would be interested in getting Vera fired.
“Because I'm a Wiccan. You can imagine how that would go over
with certain people in this town. Roy Don Talon and Jennifer Jackson aren't the only ones who'd blow their tops if they found out a real witch was teaching their kids.”
“I thought you said you weren't a witch.”
“I also said it would be hard to explain. Make that
impossible
to explain.”
Sally could see her point, but she didn't think Vera had anything to worry about. After all, Vera's name hadn't been in the e-mail. But Sally didn't get a chance to start that discussion again because Vera had something else to say.
“And then there's Harold Curtin's death.”
“What does that have to do with you?” Sally asked.
“Nothing, but considering the way he died, people might think that some kind of spell was involved.”
“People would be wrong,” Sally said. “You can't kill someone with a spell.”
“Don't tell a witch that.”
Everyone was through with the first cup of coffee, and no one wanted any more. Sally gathered up the cups and set them on the kitchen counter. She turned off the coffeemaker and sat back down at the table.
“Weems thinks Curtin might have been murdered,” she said. “But thank goodness he didn't mention any magic spells.”
“It's those quotations that keep bothering me,” Jack said. “They're both related to witchcraft, and that's why Vera is worried about what people might think. Where did Weems come up with those things? He didn't just grab them out of the air.”
Sally had been wondering the same thing. Weems was a dogged investigator and a fairly intelligent man, but he wasn't the kind to come up with two blood-to-drink quotations all by himself.
“He had them written in his little notebook,” Jack continued. “I think he copied them down in Harold's apartment. And if he did …”
“That would mean someone was trying to cast blame for Curtin's death on a witch,” Vera said. “And I'm the only one of those I know. Well, in Hughes. There are plenty of Wiccans in Houston.”
“And then there's Seepy Benton,” Jack said. “Nobody knows for sure what he is.”
Seepy was Dr. C. P. Benton, who preferred to be called by his initials rather than either of his first two names. It hadn't taken long for the initials to elide into the nickname. Benton was the college's director of institutional research. Among other things, he was an adept with computers, could create PowerPoint presentations that captive audiences actually enjoyed, and was a brilliant manipulator of statistics. All those things endeared him to Fieldstone, despite the fact that Seepy was unquestionably a little odd.
A former mathematics instructor, he was enchanted by fractals and chaos theory. He had his own Web site (http://web.wt.net/~cbenton/welcome.htm), where he explored such things as Jewish mysticism and presented his “song of the week,” complete with a video presentation of his own performance of it.
To say that he was a bit different from other administrators at HCC was like saying that a Farrelly brothers movie was a bit different from a Royal Shakespeare Company's performance of Hamlet.
“You know, I've wondered about him,” Vera said.
Jack laughed. “Join the club.”
“I mean I've wondered if he might not be a Wiccan. I know he believes in astrology.”
“Only when it's supported by mathematics,” Jack said, as if quoting something he'd heard several times.
“Whatever,” Vera said. “I still wonder if he's a Wiccan.”
“I suppose you have meetings,” Sally said.
“Yes. We don't get naked and dance around moonlit graves at midnight, though, if that's what you're thinking.”
“I wasn't thinking that.”
“I was,” Jack said, and Vera punched him on the arm.
“This isn't funny, Jack,” she said.
“I wasn't trying to be funny.”
“We do believe in the power of the moon, though,” Vera said.
“Never mind,” Sally said. She wasn't interested in Vera's religious
practices at the moment. “You haven't seen Seepy at any of the meetings?”
“Never. But there are several groups besides the one I've joined.”
Sally thought that Seepy's possible Wiccan leanings might be worth looking into. The president was counting heavily on Benton's skills in the bond election, and Benton would naturally be antagonistic to Harold Curtin if he was mixed up with the opposition.
“Weems told me that Curtin might have been murdered,” Sally said, not that she thought Seepy was a killer. But she also knew you could never be sure about something like that. “And if I know Weems, he doesn't believe in witchcraft or spells. He believes in things he can prove.”
“You know,” Jack said, “there's a connection between Harold and the Jacksons.”
That was interesting, especially given what Sally had just been thinking about Benton.
“You told me that he was involved with Citizens for Fiscal Responsibility,” she said. “What about the Jacksons?”
“I don't know for sure, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were with him on that. For all I know they
are
the Citizens for Fiscal Responsibility.”
“Whoever that bunch is, they know a lot about the college,” Vera said. “I've seen their ads.”
“Curtin was feeding them information,” Sally said, sure of it. “He must have been.”
Jack shrugged. “I don't know. It's possible.”
“You don't seem so sure about it,” Sally said, “but you seem to know an awful lot about Harold Curtin and his doings. Is there something you want to tell me, Jack?”
Jack looked around the kitchen. “I think I'd like a little more coffee, after all. You think it's still warm?”
Sally said she was sure it was. She got Jack's cup off the counter and poured coffee in it.
“Vera?” she said.
“No, thanks.”
Sally took the coffee to the table and set it in front of Jack. He took a couple of sips.
“We're waiting, Jack,” Sally said.
“It's not like Harold and I were friends or anything,” Jack said.
“What were you, then?” Vera said.
“I don't know. Maybe he thought we were friends. He used to call me and complain about the college. He said he was going to help defeat the bond issue and then get elected to the board. After that he was going to get rid of Fieldstone.”
“Did he really think anyone would vote for him?” Sally asked.
“He seemed to think he had plenty of support.”
“Would
you
have voted for him?”
“No, and I never told him that I would. I don't think anybody who worked at the college would vote for him, but that wouldn't have bothered Harold at all. He thought we were all morons.”
“Even you?”
“Even me. I told you we weren't friends. But we worked together for a long time, and he probably just needed someone to talk to about his schemes.”
“Did he ever mention anyone who might want him dead?” Vera asked.
“That would have been a very long list,” Jack said. “Starting with every student who ever took one of his classes. Let's not get too excited here. Maybe Harold died a perfectly natural death.”

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