THE WITCH AND THE TEA PARTY (A Rachael Penzra Mystery) by Elizabeth Shawn Page A

killing.
    “Someone put a string across my outside steps, the ones leading from my bedroom balcony to the pool. Anybody who knows me knows that I often go down to swim in the middle of the night.”
    Moondance gasped. “What did the sheriff say?”
    “You don’t think I’d tell someone like that, do you?” There was a pause, probably because that’s exactly what Moondance did mean. “I can’t have the sheriff tromping all over my house. Besides, it might have been one of the neighbor children. They’re nasty little brats. They hold it against me that their cat was picked up by the animal control. They should have kept it home if they loved it that much.”
    “Were… were you responsible?”
    “That doesn’t matter. They weren’t keeping the damn thing out of my yard. Besides, they can’t prove anything.”
    “Then why do you want me to ask these people about it?”
    “Because that wasn’t the end of it. There have been two so-called accidents since then. I’m a lucky person. That’s all that’s kept me alive.” She paused for Moondance’s gasp before continuing. “All you have to do is talk about there being something dark in their reading, something they’re hiding from the light of day—something like that. I don’t expect them to fall down on their knees and beg for forgiveness. I want you to watch each one carefully. If you think they’re nervous, push a bit. Can you do that?”
    “Yes,” Moondance said, rather hesitantly. “Only I don’t know what I’d actually say.”
    There was a snort which I assumed came from Mrs. B-H. “It won’t be that difficult. Surely you can think of something. Anyway, I want a full report when you’re done.”
    “I never share information about my readings,” Moondance finally took a stance.
    “I’m not asking you to talk about any of your usual nonsense. I just want a report on the questions about me. Use your head. If you’re talking about me to them, even if you aren’t using my name, I automatically have the right to know what the conversation was. Otherwise it’s slander.”
    Poor Moondance. She was in over her head. She didn’t seem to question any of the rather confusing remarks. I suppose they made some sort of sense in her mind, convoluted as they were. She must have nodded her head, because Mrs. B-H continued.
    “Quite possibly you’ll be saving my life,” she cajoled. “And if we can nip this plot in the bud, you’ll be preventing someone from going to jail. Now, I’ll go out and mix. You keep your eyes and ears open and probe for some answers.”
    Moondance mumbled something. There was the sound of a chair sliding back.
    The next one in was the husband. Nicholas, as he introduced himself. He was all charm, probably a good thing as it seemed as if our poor seer was having a hard time talking.
    “Frances seems to think you’re one of the best,” he told her. We heard the chair being pulled into position. “She puts a lot of credence into this sort of thing . One of her latest interests. Now, do you want to read my palm, or what?”
    “Oh no, no,” Moondance stammered. “I usually study images in my crystal ball. Or I might read the Tarot for you. I think… I think we should start with the ball.”
    “That’s fine,” he said agreeably. “What do I do? Do I try to think hard or something?”
    “No, you just sit there,” she told him. There was a little pause. “ Er.. hmm.. I see something unusual here. I see other women, beautiful women. I see you and other women. Are you, by any chance, having an… a… an affair?”
    He roared with laughter. “My dear Moondance! What an idea. By the way, that’s a lovely name, you know. I’m lucky to have a clever, charming wife whom I love very much. Affairs are for the discontented. I’m a very contented man.”
    “Oh. But there’s something I’m seeing. It could be that someone is using you…”
    “If you’re seeing something concerning beautiful women, I can only imagine