Putting on the Witch by Joyce and Jim Lavene Page A

neglected your childhood. What witch doesn’t have a cat?”
    The witchfinder had been restlessly moving about the room as we spoke. He finally gave up all attempts at keeping still. “While you prattle about your cat, a killer is free in the castle. He or she may kill again. This is no way to run an investigation.”
    We all sobered at the reminder of why we were there. Once he had our attention, Antonio asked us on which witch he should begin his interrogation.
    â€œI think that’s where you’re missing the point,” Elsie told him. “In this day, people aren’t interrogated so much as those looking for the truth find it with scientific means.”
    â€œThere is no torture?” he demanded indignantly. “No scalding of the feet nor pain?”
    â€œDefinitely not.” Dorothy shuddered. “We just don’t do things that way anymore—well, at least not here. There are some places where torture is still used. It’s usually waterboarding or sleep deprivation. Sometimes they use drugs.”
    â€œThank you.” I smiled at her and gave her the finger-slicing-across-my-neck sign of that being too much information. “But what Elsie said is true, Antonio. We use scientific ways of approaching evidence that will lead us to the killer. This is what my husband does every day as a homicide detective.”
    â€œWhat are these scientific methods you speak of?” he asked. “How do you utilize them?”
    â€œWell, as we mentioned before—someone out thereshould have blood splatter on them from using the ceremonial knife,” I explained. “We’d need some luminol and a black light to see blood where it seems invisible now.”
    â€œAnd there would be prints on the knife,” Elsie said. “They would match the killer’s prints.”
    â€œPrints?” Antonio swore in fluent Spanish. “What are these prints you speak of?”
    â€œLet me show you.” Dorothy took out a tiny notepad and her makeup brush. “You put some powder on someone’s fingertips and then push them down on the paper.” She showed him her fingerprints on the notepad. “Everyone has different prints. Let’s do yours and we can compare our prints.”
    She carefully dusted the witchfinder’s fingertips and then pushed his fingers on the notepad beside her print. “There. You see? Our prints are completely different. If we did one for everyone in the room, they’d all be different.”
    â€œAnd that’s the way we find out who killed Makaleigh,” Elsie added.
    Antonio looked carefully at his fingers and at the marks on the notepad. “Where do we start this scientific examination? Every witch here could be guilty.”
    â€œWe should start with the knife,” I told him. “Where is it?”
    â€œI do not know, since I could not interrogate the blade.” He looked exasperated with the turn of events he wasn’t expecting. “I shall inquire as to its resting place.” He bowed slightly to us and left the brandy room.
    Olivia’s ghost popped out of Dorothy’s bracelet. Even for Olivia, she looked stressed.
    â€œWhat are you doing, Molly? I can’t believe you all are trying to reform the witchfinder. Have you lost your minds? This man is a monster. We all know that. He can’t be bargained with or taught new ways of finding killers. We have to get out of here. He said you were innocent—let him and the council take it from here.”
    â€œBut we may never know who killed Makaleigh that way,” I argued. “It hasn’t been easy getting to this point with him, Olivia. I don’t think he’s a monster—just a man obsessed with his job and finding the truth. We can help him not to have to use enhanced interrogation techniques.”
    â€œIt’s crazy. Dorothy, you should at least get out of here. Brian, get my daughter somewhere