Wicked Witch Murder by Leslie Meier

woman away when she needed protection? She’d read the letter; she’d seen the pentagram painted on the door. “You can stay,” said Lucy slowly, “on one condition: that you go to the police and show them the letters and tell them everything you know about Malebranche.”
    â€œI’ll have to think about that,” said Diana, rising and leaving Lucy alone at the table. The bottle of Rebecca’s healing solution was still there, and Lucy picked it up and unscrewed the cap, sniffing it. It didn’t have any smell. She tipped the bottle and poured a drop or two on her hand, discovering it wasn’t greasy, and it didn’t sting. It felt like nothing more than water.
    More puzzled than ever, she screwed the cap back on and left the bottle on the table. It was getting late and she had to get to work.

Chapter Eight
    T he rain was really getting to be a pain, thought Lucy, letting the door slam behind her and dashing to the car, splashing through an enormous puddle that stretched from the back porch steps to the driveway. She was damp and uncomfortable as she started the engine, but that wasn’t the only thing bothering her. Friends of Animals day camp had been canceled again because of the weather, which meant the girls were home alone with Diana. Diana had promised not to discuss witchcraft with the girls, but that sudden poison ivy cure was pretty spectacular, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they pestered Diana until she gave in. On the other hand, she finally concluded as she eased into an empty parking spot right in front of the newspaper office, if Diana could cast a spell to end the rain and bring the sunshine back, she was all for it.
    Once inside, she shook out the umbrella, hung her rain jacket on the coat rack, and clomped to her desk. Today it seemed too much effort to take the boots off; the cool but muggy weather made her feel as if she had a fever, both overheated and chilled at the same time.
    â€œHave you heard the forecast?” she asked Phyllis, who was working her way through a big stack of press releases. “When’s the rain supposed to stop?”
    â€œNot anytime soon,” said Phyllis gloomily. “It’s getting me down.”
    â€œTell me about it. There’s no day camp again today, and the girls are home with Diana.”
    â€œIt can’t be much longer,” said Phyllis. “She must be on the mend by now.”
    â€œShe’s cured.”
    Phyllis’s eyebrows, actually thin penciled lines, rose above her colorful harlequin reading glasses. “No way!”
    â€œShe did a spell,” said Lucy. “Last night. And this morning her skin is perfectly clear, like she never had poison ivy at all. Though I have to say, she also used some stuff Rebecca Wardwell cooked up. Whichever it was, she’s all better.”
    â€œSo how come she hasn’t gone home?” asked Phyllis.
    â€œShe’s afraid. This whole Malebranche thing has really shaken her up, and she’s been getting some dreadful hate mail.”
    â€œGoes with the territory, if you ask me.” Phyllis sniffed. “If you advertise yourself as a witch, you have to expect that some people aren’t going to approve.”
    â€œThe letters were really nasty,” said Lucy, booting up her computer. “I can see why she doesn’t want to be alone, even though she did cast a protective spell.”
    â€œIf you ask me, Lucy Stone, I think she’s got you bewitched.”
    â€œMaybe,” admitted Lucy. “I’m not a complete push-over. I told her she can stay only if she tells the police everything she knows about Malebranche.”
    And just then, almost as if Diana had picked up her thoughts, the phone rang. Diana was ready to play Let’s Make a Deal.”
    â€œLucy, I want you to know that I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I know I’m being a big baby, but those letters really