Wicked Witch Murder

  WICKED WITCH MURDER

  Books by Leslie Meier

  MISTLETOE MURDER

  TIPPY TOE MURDER

  TRICK OR TREAT MURDER

  BACK TO SCHOOL MURDER

  VALENTINE MURDER

  CHRISTMAS COOKIE MURDER

  TURKEY DAY MURDER

  WEDDING DAY MURDER

  BIRTHDAY PARTY MURDER

  FATHER’S DAY MURDER

  STAR SPANGLED MURDER

  NEW YEAR’S EVE MURDER

  BAKE SALE MURDER

  CANDY CANE MURDER

  ST. PATRICK’S DAY MURDER

  MOTHER’S DAY MURDER

  WICKED WITCH MURDER

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  A Lucy Stone Mystery

  WICKED WITCH MURDER

  LESLIE MEIER

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  WICKED WITCH MURDER

  Contents

  Prologue

  I: Fire

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  II: Water

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  III: Earth

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  IV: Wind

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  V: Spirit

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Prologue

  Mind the witches’ rede ye must,

  in perfect love and perfect trust.

  Diana Ravenscroft was shivering but told herself it was not fear, but simply excitement. She had absolutely nothing to dread from the people standing in the circle, waiting for her. They were all Wiccans and had pledged perfect love and perfect trust. No, it was excitement…and the cool weather.

  Spring comes late in Tinker’s Cove, Maine, and it was decidedly chilly on the last day of April, and even cooler as darkness fell. The full moon was shining brightly and the trees’ budding branches were a tangle of black scribbles against a navy blue sky. Her senses were sharper than usual, and she was aware of the cool breeze that fluttered her sacred garments, the salty tang of the coastal air, the prickly grass beneath her bare feet. The earth felt ripe to her, ready to burst into leaf and flower, as she approached the magick circle.

  It was fitting, she thought, that Lord Malebranche had chosen this night, Beltane, for the ritual that would raise her to the third degree as a high priestess in the coven. Only a witch can make a witch and only a high priest can make a high priestess, and Diana had been his student for months now. It had been a demanding apprenticeship, and she had struggled to memorize the chants and magickal properties, the spells and rituals, all of which had to be performed precisely, because a simple mistake could unleash powerful destructive forces.

  But the craft, as any witch would tell you, wasn’t about destruction. It was all about the five elements in nature: fire, water, earth, air, and spirit. The practitioners sought ecstatic union with the forces of the universe and tried to live in harmony with natural laws. And now, just as she had spent the last months in quiet study and meditation in preparation for this night, so had the natural world been resting and gathering strength for the great season of rebirth, renewal, and growth that was to come.

  Diana felt she was on the brink of something, and she hoped she was ready, worthy of taking the next step. Because tonight, for the first time, she would be celebrating the annual Beltane sabbat skyclad, demonstrating the commitment the craft demanded. And there was more. Until now, the mystic union of male and female had only been symbolized by the dipping of a finger in a chalice of water or by slipping an athame, the ritual dagger, into a cup of wine. But tonight it would be the real thing: Lord Malebranche would consummate her ascension to the high priesthood before the entire coven.

  And now they were gathered, a small group to be sure, but they were none the less fervent for that. Lady Sibyl was casting the circle, clearing it of all maleficent forces and preparing this forest clearing for the midnight ritual. Diana took her place in the circle, planting her feet in the good earth and raising her palms and face to Goddess Moon. Then, with a flash of light, the great Beltane fire was alight and Lord Malebranche stood before her, magnificent in his horned nakedness. The members of the coven began chanting and drumming, and with a snap of his fingers, Lord Malebranche released the shoulder clasps of her ritual garment and it fell to the ground, around her ankles. He then took her hand and drew her toward the flickering fire in the center of the circle, her white body bathed in moonlight. When she arose, she would be Lady Diana, High Priestess of the Silver Coven.

  I

  FIRE

  The Ordains have spoken:

  When winter’s icy grasp is broken,

  When the warming sun returns,

  Let the Beltane fires burn.

  Chapter One

  She didn’t believe in any of it, not for a minute, thought Lucy Stone. She was a hardheaded reporter for the Pennysaver, the local weekly newspaper in Tinker’s Cove, Maine, and being skeptical was part of her job. No wonder, then, that all this nonsense about second sight and spells and magical powers didn’t impress her in the least. It was all fakery and trickery; you couldn’t fool her. So when Pam Stillings announced she’d made an appointment for them all to have a psychic reading after their regular Thursday morning breakfast, she’d been less enthusiastic than the others but didn’t want to be left out either. But as far as she was concerned, the only reason she was going along with her friends on this late June morning to Solstice, the new shop in town owned by Diana Ravenscroft, was to see if she could figure out how it was done. That was the only reason. Period. She was happily married, had four well-adjusted children and an adorable grandchild, and she wasn’t at all interested in meeting a tall, dark stranger or going on a long trip. And so far, none of her dear, departed relatives had tried to contact her, and that was the way she liked it.

  “I’ve been dying to come here, ever since it opened,” said Pam as she slipped her aged Mustang into a parking spot in front of the little shop. “It’s so cute.” Pam was married to Lucy’s boss, Ted, and still retained the enthusiasm she’d displayed as a high school cheerleader.

  The shop was cute; there was no denying that, thought Lucy, reaching for the car door handle. It was located in a quaint antique building that used to be a shoe store, with a little studio apartment upstairs. It was a bit like a child’s drawing, a cockeyed little square with a triangle perched on top. Even though it was at least a century old, maybe more, it had gone largely unnoticed, tucked behind an overgrown garden, until Diana moved in and painted it lavender with purple trim. The rampant vines and weeds had been tamed, window boxes overflowing with petunias accented the mullioned display windows that were filled with crystal pendants that caught the light, an assortment of bath and body products were arranged in pyramids, and there was a smattering of books and hand-made jewelry. A black cat was curled up on a thick green velvet cushion, asleep in a patch of sun.

  “This ought to be a hoot,” said Sue Finch, flipping down the sun visor and checking her lipstick in the mirror before opening the door and gracefully exiting the car. Sue was the only woman in the little seaside town who consistently wore high heels, an
d she got her hair done in New York City when she visited her daughter, Sidra, who was an assistant producer for The Norah! Show. “I hear psychics are all the rage now. All the stars have their favorite fortune-tellers, and Sidra says Norah’s even doing a show on them.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me one bit,” said Rachel Goodman with a nod that sent her black-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose as she scrambled out of the backseat. “There are mental forces we don’t understand. The mind is very mysterious.” Rachel had been a psych major in college and had never really gotten over it.

  “It’s just a lot of hooey,” muttered Lucy as they trooped through the shop door. “Unhappy, desperate people will cling to anything.”

  “If you really believe that, then why did you come?” asked an ethereal voice, coming from above.

  Lucy followed the sound and found Diana Ravenscroft perched atop a tall ladder in the corner, watering a hanging plant. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders in a tumble of auburn waves, and she was dressed in a form-fitting velvet gown the color of a fine aged wine. A graceful alabaster arm extended from the loose sleeve as she tipped the watering can and released a stream of silvery water into the hand-crafted pot containing a lush fuschia dripping with purple and magenta flowers.

  “Why not?” responded Lucy, rising to the challenge. “Are you afraid I might see through your tricks?”

  Diana smiled sweetly. “Not at all,” she said, descending with a light step and setting the watering can on a table, beside a display of variously colored candles. “I’m the genuine article, a high priestess in the Wiccan religion. I even have a title: Lady Diana.”

  Give me a break, thought Lucy.

  “You actually consider yourself a witch?” asked Rachel.

  “Oh, yes,” said Diana. “I’ve even got a familiar, my cat. His name is Piewocket.”

  “Do you belong to a coven?” asked Pam.

  “I do, but not all witches belong to covens. There are a number of solitaires, who practice alone.”

  Sue, ever the shopper, was examining a display of gemstone and silver jewelry. “How do you become a witch? Is it something you can learn, or are you born with it?”

  “A little of both,” said Diana. “I always knew I was a bit different. They called me ‘sensitive’ as a child. I remember bursting into tears one time, apparently for no reason at all, and then we got a call that my brother had been hit by a car while bicycling and was taken to the hospital.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” gasped Pam.

  Diana smiled. “He was fine, just a broken arm.” She paused. “But it made me wonder about myself. And then when I heard about Wicca, I began to read and study and eventually found others like myself. I guess I have always been a witch, but I’ve been in the coven for only a few years now.”

  “And are there a lot of witches around here?” asked Lucy, sensing a possible story for the Pennysaver.

  “The ordains, the rules of the coven, prohibit revealing the identity of other witches,” said Diana. “I’m sure you understand, since witches have often been persecuted by those who fear the craft.” She smiled, making eye contact with each of them in turn. Lucy was surprised to feel a sense of warm relaxation when Diana’s gaze met hers. “There’s nothing to fear,” continued Diana. “The first and last rule of witchcraft is ‘An ye harm none, do as ye will.’ So, shall we begin the readings? I can do them individually or as a group.”

  “Group?” asked Pam, checking with the others. Receiving nods all around, they followed Diana toward a curtained doorway in the rear of the shop. When she pushed it aside, they stepped into a small circular space hung all around with richly colored curtains in red, green, blue, and silver. A round table stood in the center, containing a crystal ball. The sight made Lucy giggle; it was such a cliché and she’d expected Diana to be a little more original.

  “You’re laughing at my crystal ball?” asked Diana, amused.

  “I’m sorry,” said Lucy. “It just struck me as corny.”

  “I know,” admitted Diana. “But I’m fond of it. It was a gift from someone who is terribly dear to me.” Her back was to them as she busied herself at a small table covered with a cloth and two tall white candles at each corner, like an altar. A green candle stood in the center, along with two bowls. “I use a variety of methods: cards, palms, tea leaves. Whatever seems appropriate.” She turned and faced them, holding a dagger in one hand and a bowl in the other. “Seat yourselves and I will begin by casting a magick circle.”

  The four friends obeyed, glancing at each other.

  “Please join hands,” instructed Diana.

  Lucy linked hands with Sue on one side and Rachel on the other; she smiled across the table at Pam, then turned to watch Diana.

  “Watery cradle of life, bubbling source of creation, cleanse this space of any and all impurities and evil,” recited Diana, dipping the dagger into the water. Then she replaced the bowl on the altar and picked up another bowl containing salt. “Salt born of seawater, allow only good and beneficent forces to enter here and aid me in my work.” She dipped the dagger into the salt, then raised it. “So mote it be!”

  Replacing the bowl of salt on the altar, she proceeded to walk clockwise in a circle around the table, holding the dagger. “I conjure and create this circle as a sphere of protection, free from all evil and negative forces. I now bless and consecrate this circle to be a place of peace, love, and power.” Then, taking her place, she set the dagger on the table and gazed into the crystal ball. Placing her hands over the ball, she made circular motions, then turned them palm sides up. “Visions now appear to me; only true ones will I see.”

  She remained still, eyes closed, for a long few moments, then turned to Pam. “I see money. You’re anxious about money.”

  Pam chuckled. “I think this recession is making everyone a bit nervous. We’re seeing all these foreclosures; the stock market is down; gas and groceries are up.”

  Silently, Lucy agreed. Everybody was concerned about money; it was a sure bet for a so-called psychic.

  “No, this is something to do with your husband. Perhaps he’s made an unwise investment?”

  “Only if you call a newspaper an unwise investment,” replied Pam.

  “No, not the newspaper. A car.”

  Not exactly rocket science—everybody had a car, thought Lucy, but Pam was impressed.

  “The hybrid?” she screamed, raising her eyebrows. “He just bought a hybrid!”

  Diana shook her head. “I see him, parked on the side of the road, with the hood up. And there’s an odd sound, like clucking. Birds, maybe chickens.” She shrugged. “I’m not at all sure what this means.”

  In spite of herself, Lucy felt the hairs on the back of her neck rising. “Ted was going out to Clark’s Chicken Farm to do a story about the rising price of eggs,” she blurted out. She stared at Diana. “How could you know that?” she asked, then quickly supplied an explanation. “You ran into him earlier, didn’t you? He must have told you!”

  Diana smiled. “I haven’t left this building all day, but you don’t have to believe me.” Once again, she leaned over the ball and repeated the words: “Visions now appear to me, only true ones will I see.” She stared into the ball for a long time, then raised her head and looked at Sue. “I see worry and dollar signs and small children.”

  Lucy’s skepticism returned as she thought she detected a method in Diana’s readings. The setting and the mumbo jumbo set the mood, and then she threw out some general ideas and waited for her clients to respond. But Sue, Lucy noticed, wasn’t playing along.

  “What else do you see?” she asked.

  “Another woman, a younger woman. She’s knocking on a door. It’s the door to a bank.”

  “I don’t know how you could possibly know this,” mused Sue. “Chris went to the bank to apply for a loan this morning.” Chris Cashman was Sue’s partner in Little Prodigies Child Care Center, and they’d recently had a cash flow problem.

  Diana s
miled at her. “It’s just a temporary situation,” she said. “You’ll be able to pay off the loan in six months, and all will be well.”

  Once again, Lucy found her skepticism returning. It was no secret that Sue was part owner of Little Prodigies; her photo was in every ad. And as for money troubles, the recession had hit a lot of families hard, and it was only to be expected that some would be struggling to meet their child care expenses.

  Sue, however, had no such doubts. She seized on the good news, letting out a big sigh and laughing. “I can’t tell you what a relief this is. I was really worried.”

  “No need to worry,” said Diana, bending once again over the crystal ball. “Mmm, this is odd,” she said, bending closer, then looking up at Rachel. “I see a very old woman, but she’s no relation of yours. A friend, perhaps?”

  Rachel nodded. “I provide home care for an elderly friend.”

  “That explains it,” said Diana, returning to the crystal ball. “Your friend is very old, right?”

  Rachel nodded. “I worry about her. She’s well over ninety and increasingly frail.”

  “No need to worry—she’s a tough old bird,” said Diana. “She’s going to be around for quite a while.”

  Rachel pressed her hands together and beamed at Diana. “That is wonderful news. Thank you.”

  Lucy, however, wasn’t convinced. Women their age were usually caring for at least one elderly person; it was yet another safe guess for Diana.