Wicked Stitch by Amanda Lee Page A

scarf she was knitting,” I said.
    Amelia gasped. “Here? That happened
here
?”
    I nodded. “I’m the one who found her. I didn’t realize she’d been murdered, though. I thought maybe she’d just had a heart attack and had fallen over or something, but I later heard it was murder. The woman manning the booth next to mine saidshe thought it might have been a vagrant, so you and Herodias be careful.”
    “We will. You, too.” Amelia looked distracted as she started walking away. “Talk with you later!”
    “See ya!”
    Well, she hadn’t appeared to know anything. But maybe if she picked up any information, she’d stop by the merchants’ building and share it with me. People were going to think me a terrible gossip when this was over, but how else was I going to help Ted find out who’d killed Clara? So far, the only viable suspect we had was Nellie . . . and frankly, I didn’t think she was all that viable.
    I walked past archers who were shooting at their targets—away from the other Faire-goers, thank goodness. I spotted the juggler again. This time, he was tossing four balls of different sizes and colors. There was a large red one, a smaller blue one, a yellow one, and then the smallest, a green one.
    “Hey, there! Hey, pretty one! Stop and talk with me!”
    I turned, realizing the woman’s lilting voice was directed at me. “Hello.”
    “Hello. I am Hecate, Queen of the Witches, goddess of magic and witchcraft.”
    She was a lovely older woman with red hair and green eyes. In fact, it struck me that she faintly resembled the actress Agnes Moorehead, who was famous for her role as Endora in the sitcom
Bewitched
.
    “Beware,” she told me. “That Macbeth has alean and hungry look about him. Wouldn’t you agree?”
    “I haven’t met Macbeth yet, but I’ll certainly take your word for it,” I said. “Tales of his ambition precede him.”
    “That they do.” She brought her hand around with a flourish and directed it toward a tent. “Won’t you come in and have my sisters tell your fortune?”
    Okay, with that enigmatic expression, she looked a
lot
like Agnes Moorehead playing Endora.
    I hesitated, and she gave a throaty laugh.
    “Come, darling. Don’t you want to know what’s in store for you?”
    “I’m not sure,” I said, with a nervous chuckle. “It depends on whether it’s good or bad.”
    She arched a brow.
    I suppose I
could
question the witches while I was having my fortune told.
    “Okay,” I said.
    “Fabulous. Step right this way.”
    Hecate ushered me into the tent. “My sisters, we have a seeker.”
    Three tables were set up inside the tent, each draped with an ornate fabric. The “sisters” sat in chairs behind the tables. My mind might have been playing tricks on me, but they looked enough like the actresses Jessica Lange, Angela Bassett, and Kathy Bates that they could’ve been their stunt doubles.
    “These are the three witches from
Macbeth
thatchanted
double, double, toil and trouble
?” I asked. “I didn’t expect you guys to be so pretty.”
    The one that looked like Jessica Lange threw her head back and laughed. “I like this one, Hecate. I’m glad you brought her to us.”
    Hecate laughed, winked at her, and then left me alone with the witches.
    “How does this work?” I asked, looking from one to the other.
    “You start with me and pay Hecate on your way out,” said the one who resembled Angela Bassett. “Come on over and let me see your hands.”
    I walked over to the table that was draped in black and gold velvet. There was a stool in front of the table, and I sat down.
    “Place your hands on the table, please,” she said. “As a woman, palmistry of your right hand reveals what you were born with. Your left hand shows what you’ve accumulated, your potential, what
could
be.”
    “All right.” I stared down at my hands, eager to hear what she saw in them.
    “You have water hands. You’d be successful in some artistic endeavor . . .