Wicked Witch Murder (23 page)

He sat for a moment, hand on the receiver, before he swiveled around to face Lucy and Phyllis. Ted usually had plenty to say, but this time he limited himself to one word. “Damn,” he said.

T
he weeks before Halloween passed in a blaze of color as one syrupy golden day followed another, and a steady stream of leaf-peeping tourists passed through town, shopping for antiques, maple syrup, pumpkins, and cider. It was Lucy's favorite time of year: She loved the nip in the morning air, the crunch of leaves beneath her feet, and the comfort of slipping into a favorite sweater. Adding poignancy to her pleasure was the knowledge that these fine October days were fleeting and gray November would arrive like a cold, wet blanket.

For the moment, she was concentrating on what the poet called “this season of mellow fruitfulness.” Even Ike Stoughton seemed to have regained a sense of equilibrium. Maybe the brief stay in the county jail brought Ike to his senses, or maybe he was coming to terms with his grief, but he seemed to have ceased his campaign against witchcraft and there was no more talk of a libel suit.

A few days before Halloween the girls reported that Abby had returned to school. “She looks much better, Mom,” reported Zoe. Lucy responded with mixed emotions. She was glad the girl had recovered but she really didn't want her daughters getting involved with the Stoughtons again. She expected Sara and Zoe would want to visit and braced for an argument, but the girls never brought it up.

When the big day finally rolled around, she was determined to make the most of it and was in a festive mood as she dressed for the party. She didn't have the first idea about how to wear a wig, so she went for the obvious and plopped it on her head like a hat, tucking the stray bits of her own hair underneath. She was busy poking a particularly stubborn lock out of sight when Bill appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You look good in long hair,” he said, pulling her against him. “Why don't you let your hair grow?”

Lucy looked at her reflection, thinking she was a very poor imitation of Diana. She was shorter and wider, too, which was actually fortunate, because her width took up most of the stretchy skirt's extra length, and the cheap polyester wig with long ringlets that cascaded over her shoulders was way too much hair. She thought it made her look like Chewbacca.

“I'm not tall enough for long hair,” she said.

“I think it looks nice,” said Bill, his hands straying over her body. “And I like this dress too. It feels silky. How come you always wear pants?”

“I don't always wear pants,” said Lucy, reaching a finger under the wig to scratch. The darn thing was itchy, and heavy to boot. And it smelled funny.

“When was the last time you wore a skirt?” asked Bill.

Lucy scratched harder, trying to remember. He did have a point—she almost always wore jeans, because they were comfortable and practical for her busy life. “The Finches Christmas party,” she said triumphantly, retrieving the memory. “I wore a red silk blouse and my little black skirt.”

“I remember,” said Bill, lifting the fake hair off her neck so he could nuzzle it. “You looked sexy. Just like you look sexy now.”

“Down, boy,” she said, pulling away. “I'm going to be late for the party.”

“Be late,” he coaxed.

 

The party was in full swing when Lucy arrived at the community center, where the DJ was playing the “Monster Mash” at top volume. It seemed as if every kid in town was there, most dressed in costumes. Thomas the Tank Engine was popular with the youngest boys, and there were quite a few Spider-Mans and Supermans, and Transformers too. The girls were mostly princesses, though there were also a number of witches in pointy black hats. Lucy herself was wearing a witch's hat, having given up on the itchy wig. The long skirt was a nuisance, however, as she had to be careful not to trip on the hem.

“It's about time you got here,” chided Pam when Lucy approached her to ask how she could help. “Is that some new makeup you're wearing?”

Lucy's hand flew to her face, which felt quite warm. “No makeup,” said Lucy, smiling to herself.

“Well, you look fabulous,” said Pam. “Can you relieve Sue, over at the ball toss? I need her to put out her black punch.”

“Sure,” said Lucy.

Sue was off in a far corner where a kid-sized basketball hoop topped with the silhouette of a black cat with an arched back had been set up. Each kid got three tries to make a basket, and everybody got a tiny Tootsie Roll prize.

Other games were set up around the perimeter of the room. There were old favorites like bobbing for apples and pin the tail on the donkey, except that today it was pin the nose on the pumpkin. Rachel was ensconced in a pop tent covered with colorful scarves, seated at a small table with a silver garden globe, telling fortunes. Lucy's neighbor Willie, who was married to a vet, had set up a petting corner, bringing along the family cat and her son Chip's pet bunny, as well as some borrowed gerbils and guinea pigs. Rebecca was seated in another corner, in a rocking chair, and a couple of little princesses were sitting at her feet, listening to her read “Pumpkin Moonshines” and other Halloween stories. Most of the kids were running around, dashing from one activity to another, and some were even dancing to the Halloween songs the DJ was playing.

“It's quite the scene,” said Lucy, finally reaching the ball toss.

“We got quite a big turnout,” said Sue, passing the ball to a very small Dracula. Turning to Lucy, she narrowed her eyes. “Are you using a new moisturizer? What is it? I'm going to have to get me some.”

“I think it's the store brand,” said Lucy, who always bought the cheapest jar on the drugstore shelf.

Sue's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You didn't get that rosy glow from the store brand. What's your secret?”

Lucy wasn't about to tell, not in front of the kids. “Look, Pam needs help with the punch, so I'm supposed to take over here.”

Sue was clapping for the little Dracula, who finally got the ball through the hoop on his third try. “Here you go,” she said, giving him the candy and taking the ball, which she passed on to Lucy. “Three tries each, make 'em wait in line, and no pushing or shoving.”

“I can handle it,” said Lucy, passing the ball to a blue and silver princess. A mummy, a pirate, and a tiny Nemo were all waiting their turn, with varying degrees of patience.

“C'mon, Bella,” urged the pirate. “You're taking forever.”

“Shut up, Jason,” snapped the princess, with plenty of attitude. “I can take as long as I want.”

“Ten seconds or you lose your turn,” said Lucy, starting to count, and the princess heaved the ball, bouncing it off the backboard.

“You killed the cat,” crowed Jason, causing the princess to sulk while Lucy chased down the ball. She made the next two tries, however, and Lucy gave her two Tootsie Rolls. She was about to give Jason his turn when the music stopped and the DJ announced the costume parade was about to begin.

There was a flurry of activity as the kids lined up and the judges took their seats; then the music to
The Sorcerer's Apprentice
filled the room, and the kids began marching in a circle. Lucy loved this part best, amused by the kids' expressions. Some were self-conscious in their costumes, while others really enjoyed play-acting and putting on a bit of a show. The Draculas, in particular, liked to show their fanged teeth and wiggle their fingers. The smaller kids really got into their characters, the Thomases huffing and puffing like really useful engines and tiny little Nemo making swimming motions.

Then everyone waited while the winners—there were at least twenty categories, ranging from “Most Original” to “Scariest” and “Funniest”—were announced and prizes awarded. Afterward, everybody lined up for refreshments, which Pam carefully specified were to be eaten sitting on the floor. “There will be absolutely no running,” she warned.

“Can we have seconds?” asked Nemo, piping up.

“After everybody has had firsts,” said Pam, “and only if there is no running.”

The older kids knew the drill, and soon the children were all seated Indian-style on the floor, quietly eating their Beastly Cookies, Wiggly Worms, Eyeballs, and Witches' Brew punch. Lucy took advantage of the quiet to collect the box of favors and stationed herself by the door, ready to present each departing child with a trick-or-treat bag filled with a few pieces of candy, a black or orange flashlight to carry while trick-or-treating, and the protective pouches Diana had donated.

A half hour later and the kids were all gone, all except for little Nemo, and the cleanup was beginning. It looked as if Nemo's folks were running late.

“What's your name?” she asked him.

“Nemo.”

“That's your costume,” said Lucy. “What's your real name?”

“Nemo.”

And people said kids had no imagination nowadays. “So where do you live?” she asked, thinking she probably knew the answer.

She did. “In the aquarium.”

Time to try a new tack. “Where does your mom live?”

Nemo chuckled at yet another silly question. “In the aquarium. She's a fish too.”

“Okay, Nemo,” she said with a sigh. “You stay right here until I get back, okay?”

Nemo nodded and began checking out the contents of his treat bag while Lucy canvassed the volunteers, looking for somebody who knew the child.

“Oh, that's Nemo,” said Sue, ripping off a piece of plastic film to cover the leftover cookies.

“So he says,” said Lucy.

“No, really. Nemo Anderson. He's a part-timer at the school. His parents are a little sketchy; they're usually late.”

“Drugs? Booze?” asked Lucy, who was familiar with the issues faced by many of the town's residents.

“No, I don't think so. They're just free spirits. Throwbacks to the sixties, I guess.”

“Can you call them? Tell them the party's over?”

Lucy went back to wait with Nemo, who was now surrounded by a small pile of candy wrappings and discarded herbs. “What's this?” he asked, showing her the little stone Diana had included in the pouch.

“It's a lucky stone. It has a special power, and if you carry it with you all the time, it will keep you safe. At least that's what some people think.” Lucy had popped her bag into her bra, as Diana had suggested. She wasn't sure why she did it. Maybe because it was Halloween and it seemed to go with the costume; maybe she subconsciously felt the need for protection on this night when the veil between the living and the dead was said to disappear.

“Cool,” said Nemo, popping the stone into the pouch and lifting up his costume to stuff it in his pants pocket.

Lucy could see Sue crossing the room toward them, phone in hand.

“Nemo's mother says her car died, and she wants to know if somebody could bring him home. I would, but I've got to meet Sid at the airport—he's coming back from his annual golf weekend in Hilton Head—and his plane is supposed to be landing right now.” She shrugged. “It's probably delayed—they always are these days, but still—”

“I'll do it,” said Lucy. “Where does he live?”

“I told you: the aquarium,” said Nemo.

Lucy was getting tired of this. “I need better directions than that,” she said.

Sue was smiling. “He's actually telling the truth. Remember the old aquarium?” she asked, referring to a defunct tourist trap out on Route 1.

“Yeah,” said Lucy, picturing a dilapidated cluster of buildings surrounded by an overgrown parking lot.

“That's where he lives.”

“That's almost an hour's drive!” protested Lucy.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” said Sue.

Lucy glanced at the little kid, who was busy sucking on a lollipop. “This is how fish eat lollipops,” he told her, sucking in his cheeks.

“Okay, Nemo, I'll give you a ride home,” she said, taking him by the hand. “Where's your coat?” The coat rack was empty, except for a handful of adult-sized jackets. Her eyes met Sue's, expressing mutual disapproval.

“Fish don't need jackets,” declared Nemo.

“There's a blanket in the car,” said Lucy, becoming aware as she dashed out to the car to retrieve it that this simple errand was getting a lot more complicated than she'd expected. Then when she tried to drape it around him, Nemo insisted that fish didn't use blankets, not ever, but he changed his mind when they were halfway to the car. The temperature had fallen as night fell. It was just above freezing, and a sharp wind was blowing off the cove. Lucy cranked up the heater when she started the car, rubbing her hands together until she felt the first blasts of warm air flowing from the vents. Little Nemo was seated beside her, wrapped in his blanket and held securely by the seat belt as they drove through town.

The little village had a holiday air, as many people had not only left their porch lights on but had also strung lights shaped like pumpkins or skeletons; others had set up spotlights to illuminate their harvest figures. Candles twinkled inside jack-o'-lanterns; some grinned and others leered or howled, depending on their creators' inclinations. Some people had taped cutouts on their windows: Black cats and witches on broomsticks were favorites. And some folks had even bought crumpled figures of witches that they fastened to a tree trunk as if a witch riding a broomstick had accidentally crashed into it. Lucy loved all the decorations, except for the giant inflatable purple spider that one family always set on their porch roof—that one gave her the creeps, and she tried not to look at it.

She drove carefully and slowly, on the lookout for trick-or-treaters. The kids were everywhere, dashing from house to house, the young ones with parental escorts and the older kids in groups. It was getting late, almost eight o'clock, and she knew things would quiet down pretty soon as the kids went home with their loot. Some parents tried to limit the gorging and confiscated the sweets to dole out later. Lucy and Bill generally let the kids eat as much as they wanted on Halloween night, figuring it was better to get it over with as soon as possible and get back to a healthy diet. Whatever was left went into a bowl on the dining room sideboard for everyone to share; Lucy could never pass it without grabbing a mini chocolate bar, or two, and was glad when nothing was left except a couple of grape lollipops, scorned by everyone. They generally lingered there until it was time to put up the Christmas decorations.