Witch One Dunnit? (Rachael Penzra mystery) by Elizabeth Shawn Page B

I actually heard her talking about it before your aunt’s death.”
           I was admittedly a little impressed, but I wasn’t about to acknowledge that to her.  I hadn’t consciously thought about it until then, but I realized I’d automatically dismissed Lucinda’s pronouncement about having warned Aunt Josie ahead of time as fabrication. I had no idea of what the woman’s average reading was like.  Maybe she saw murder and mayhem in most readings and had just happened to get lucky this time.
           Janice, being the actress she was, realized she’d hit upon a good exit line and was smart enough to take full advantage of it.  She rose and swept on her cape, threw me a dark look, and made her grand exit.  She’d done what she came for; she’d given me something to think about. 
           Just what I needed.
           Moondance was my favorite visitor.  In some ways she was a lot like Janice, being extremely dramatic and completely immersed in her role as a witch.  Janice struck me as being an intelligent, if flaky, woman.  Moondance was simply flaky. 
           All the same, there was something about the woman that fascinated me.  Or maybe she just amused me.  I think it probably was her sincerity. 
       For her first visit, she arrived with four people in tow.  That was literally what it looked like: she swept up the newly shoveled path (I’d finally decided I needed to burn off a few calories by shoveling) with her company trailing faithfully behind her.  She was, to put it mildly, flamboyant.  I swung wide the door for her admittance.  It seemed a fitting gesture.
           “So good to meet you at last!” she gushed, swinging off her cape and handing it to me as if I were her personal lady-in-waiting.  “I waited until the storm had passed completely.  I felt I must absorb every bit of the power Mother had to offer before it was withdrawn.”
           “‘Mother’ being Ma Nature in case you haven’t guessed,” the second person to enter told me.  “I’m Ronnie Pfeiffer, Warlock Extraordinaire, and this, of course, is Moondance.”
           “We don’t approve of the term Warlock,” Moondance scolded over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen.  The rest of us, including the three who had been yet to be introduced, meekly followed in her wake.
           A very pretty young blonde woman grinned in my direction and said, “I’m Cheryl Tambour.  I’m a witch too!  Well, a very new witch, but I’m getting better at it.  My parents don't like it, but they don’t understand what it’s all about.  You know, nature and stuff!” 
           “Percy Jordan,” the chubby young man interrupted, holding out a soft hand for me to shake.  “And this is Elena Farthing, the Fortune Teller with a past.”  He giggled.  That’s not a becoming sound from a man.  “At least we think she has one, but she won’t let us in on any of her secrets.”  The older woman he referred to looked like anybody’s mother, and she didn’t even seem to hear Percy’s asinine chatter.  Lucky her.
           “Silence, Percy!” Moondance ordered.  Having herded us all into the kitchen, she grabbed my shoulders and stared into my eyes, apparently reading the deep, dark secrets of my soul.  What she was actually seeing, I sensed, was an outsider’s view of herself reflected in my eyeballs.  She was so busy reading my secrets I don’t think she even noticed my eyes are two different colors.  When she was satisfied she’d given me the full impression of how mystical she was, she sighed deeply, shuddered dramatically, and released me.  “Come, relax.  Let us have something to eat and drink together.  We must get to know one another.”
           To my everlasting credit, I didn’t groan.
           They seated themselves at the table, each carefully taking a spot clearly already claimed from previous visits.  We are such