Every Witch Way But Dead Page 10

  I scratched my arm. “I saw someone I thought I knew, but I couldn’t find him,” I said, a bit confused. “I think it was a man. I don’t recall now.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sean asked.

  “It’s the heat,” I said as we stood at the threshold of my shop. “Do you want to come in?” I asked. He stared at my neck. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ve got a rash half way ‘round your neck.”

  I reached up and felt the heat emanate from the welt.

  “It’s probably the necklace. I can’t wear sterling,” I said quickly, wanting to get into the comforting energy of my shop.

  He went to touch my neck, but pulled away. “Hmm, it looks like it’s in the shape of a circle. You should put some lotion on that.” Sean looked as if he wanted to say something more. “I’ve got to get back to the station. Take care of that rash, Mrs. Kane. Do you need any assistance with this crowd?”

  “I’m sure my partner called Rob and Eric.” I smiled. “Yeah, we’re on a first name basis with the officers now.”

  “I could stay.”

  “Thanks, but we should be all right. You’ve been so generous with your time as it is.”

  He smiled. “It’s my job.”

  “Nice to see you again.” I went into the store and saw Marisa hang up the phone.

  “Angie, you okay? You look a bit frazzled. Seems as if the preacher got you riled a bit more than usual. What’s that on your neck? Is that a rash, or a hickey?” She winked. “Wow, it’s the same shape as—”

  Marisa was babbling; that meant she was the frazzled one. “I’m fine, Risa. It’s the necklace.” In all honesty, though, I’d been a bit jumpy, too.

  A minute later I saw the patrol car pull up and went outside to meet with the officers. Pugliese and Schmitt answered the call, as predicted.

  I spoke calmly, my hand covering the red flesh around my throat. “I know I’ve only got so much say in this, but he’s affecting my business now and I’d like him removed. A few of my customers who had appointments left because he scared them away. I’ve got witnesses.”

  Father Tom walked over from down the road. We had an unspoken agreement, he and I. We had a mutual adversary.

  Officer Pugliese started with crowd control. “Folks, the show is over, go on your way now. Preacher, keep the sermon to your congregation from now on, you’re disturbing these folks’ right to carry on with their business.”

  The preacher stood his ground. “I’m trying to save some souls, son. But I see she’s got you cavorting with Satan as well.”

  Rob’s fingers touched his star earring. “Sir, I said move along.”

  Finally, people began going their separate ways.

  “I’m sorry you got involved in this, Father,” I said.

  “Please call me Tom. We went to school together, Angie. I can’t get used to you calling me Father. Thanks for the heads up. At least I’ll know the reason for gettin’ the third degree about the Pope and if he’s leading everyone to hell.” He sighed deeply and shook his head in disbelief.

  As the crowd finally dispersed, I looked across the street and saw my friends Joseph and Sally. They gave me a wave. Joe shook his head, not believing what he’d witnessed.

  Neither could I. Just goes to show, you can’t judge a book by its cover.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pearl ~ One who possesses or wears a good pearl enjoys the blessings of Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity. Traditionally symbolic of purity, innocence and faith, pearls increase personal integrity and help clear the mind so that it can be an unsoiled channel for wisdom and spiritual guidance. These moon and water ruled "gems" augment sincerity, truth and loyalty and bring reassuring reflection and inner peace. ~ From Angelica Kane’s Pearls of Wisdom article.

  Peace fell upon us for the time being and brought with it our Fourth of July extravaganza. The neighborhood was dressed up gaudily for the grand festivities. For the past five years, we’d celebrated with a massive block party and, from what the neighbors said, it’d been going on long before we moved in. For fifteen years, this quaint neighborhood had been commemorating the Fourth with total élan. Friends and family of all our neighbors traveled here by land and sea. Boats arrived days in advance to see one of the best fireworks displays ever. I’d even seen sailboats from as far as Delaware and Maine moored in our waters. It was spectacular, as were some of the boats. Someday, I thought. That will be us on the water, watching and then perhaps sailing farther south for a lovely vacation.

  I do believe I was a pirate in a past life. I knew I’d been an Egyptian.

  This fantastic celebration had come about due to a neighbor of ours, and I won’t mention any names. He was—how shall I put it—connected.

  Growing up in an Italian-American family, I’d always heard about my cousin Vinny or Uncle Tony, involved in funny business, as my mom called it. I didn’t think anything of it. It was normal that everyone’s family had a bit of funny business going on somewhere, wasn’t it? When I got older and realized the ways of the world, I learned it wasn’t so normal. Not at all. As fate would have it, the neighbor down the block, the connected one, knew my dear cousin Vinny. Small world.

  Smaller knowing every Fourth of July I could see my cousin, who, all things considered, was a sweet guy. He would do anything for his family. My illusion of Vinny was pristine and I wanted it to remain that way. All I knew was he became involved with a union in Manhattan.

  That’s all I wanted to know.

  Marisa and I took turns running around town prior to the gala, shopping and decorating the yard with red, white and blue lights and dozens of flags. The kids dangled streamers from the trees in the same color motif. Jake, with the precision of a plastic surgeon, transformed our scarecrow into Uncle Sam and sat him on our front porch.

  Amber moped around like a heartsick teen. “But Ma, why can’t I go to Michele’s for the day?” she whined.

  “Because we’re having a party and Nicole is looking forward to seeing you. Michele’s welcome here.”

  My daughter huffed, her wheels still spinning. “She’s got to stay home.”

  I countered, “Oh, her parents want her home. Amber, does this have anything to do with that guy, Lance?”

  “No.”

  Her aura dimmed, a sign she was lying. “I’m sorry, honey. Nikki will be here any minute.” No sooner did I purse my lips to speak, when I saw Marisa’s sister, Stefania, drive down the block.

  All of Marisa’s sisters dropped in early to help. Stefania and her sixteen-year-old daughter, Nicole, were the first to arrive. Gina and Elaine arrived soon after with their families.

  Amber and Nicole, with arms linked, disappeared into my daughter’s room, no doubt talking about clothes and Nicole’s new boyfriend.

  Her sisters brought with them steaks and lobsters for the clambake and sweet corn and fresh baked pies from the roadside farm stands and bottles of wine from the local vineyards. I persuaded Marc and Veronica to join us. It was an arduous time for them in the aftermath of Diane’s funeral, in addition to dealing with the press. That was a full time job in and of itself, and they were constantly harassed by reporters. I hadn’t been able to meet with Ronnie, so we decided the Fourth would be great timing. Marisa invited Sally and a date, which turned out to be Kevin, her brother’s friend. After seeing her talking with Jehovah Joe outside the shop a few times, I was secretly hoping it would’ve been him. My emotions tended to get in the way of my psychic antennae sometimes. But I repeated my mantra daily: “Whatever will be, will be.”

  * * *

  My home is located on an enchanting cul de sac lined with cherry trees. Complete with old-fashioned light posts, surrounded by fuchsia geraniums, it appeared to be plucked right out of a Charles Wysocki painting. Real Americana, including cobblestone walkways on Market Street.

  Picture postcard blue skies and sunshine were the forecast for the day. It was perfect weather. Officers Pugliese and Schmitt were there with others from the
town, lugging the barricades and going over, as they do every year, what’s allowed and what’s not, when to lower the volume and, of course, no fireworks.

  A certain tingle oscillated in the air and I attributed that to the jitters I usually got before a big party. I loved to entertain, but I despised the stress that accompanied it, and today was no different from any other holiday.

  I paced in the front yard. “You bringing the extra barbeque?” I asked Rich.

  “He sure is. You need a drink, my friend, relax!” Marisa answered, handing me a cold beer. I took it gratefully.

  By noon, the barbecues and blenders were racing full speed ahead. Margaritas, Mud Slides, Virgin Daiquiris, ice cold Budweisers and Coronas along with iced tea, soda and plenty of bottled water flowed freely.

  The music of Lynyrd Skynard filled the air as I greeted our guests and handed out cocktails. I dressed in cutoffs and a “Goddess Bless America” tee shirt. Thanks to the newest aerosol tanning spray and some sunshine while weeding my herb gardens, I sported a honeyed glow.

  Ivy showed up next with boxes and boxes of desserts. She had a mean sweet tooth.

  Kara headed up the walkway. “Where do you want the beer?” she asked. “We can’t stay that long, we’re also invited to Tiffany’s brother’s for a barbeque. We have to go.” Kara pouted, looking gorgeous in a crisp white sundress. What can I say, my friend is sexually adventurous, although I’m not quite certain Tiffany was a romantic relationship. Kara had confided to me that she was bi-sexual. I say, whatever floats your boat.

  I gave Kara a “thumbs up” on her choice of beverage, Corona Lights with a bag full of limes. “Beer goes in the large white cooler, help yourself, guys,” I answered.

  At one-thirty, the Arthurs arrived. Great minds think alike, and apparently dress alike. Ronnie was in cutoffs and a Lady Liberty tee shirt stating “Goddess Bless”. We were mirror images of each other, long blonde hair and nearly identical outfits. We had a good chuckle over that one. Nevertheless, I worried about her. Her energy was low and I spotted gaps when I tuned into her aura.

  Marc and Ronnie arrived with bundles of fresh vegetables and dip, cheeses and crackers. With a few pounds of T-bone steaks and more lobsters, it was cholesterol heaven.

  We all congregated in the kitchen, planning what to cook and when to cook it. As my family entered the kitchen, I grabbed the bundles of groceries from my mom and sister, Amy. The bags overflowed with pounds of thin, Italian cheese sausage, clams and shrimp. My sister baked an assortment of pies—the pecan was especially for me. She was a superb baker and made a blue-ribbon winning chocolate-pecan pie.

  Tina, my mom, a spry seventy year old, was most at home in the kitchen. Amber, her protégé, was right beside her learning the tricks and subtle nuances of Strega Nona’s cooking. Moreover, I’m sure she complained endlessly about me and how mean I was.

  Jake floated in and out with Will, grabbing handfuls of chips and pretzels. They ran from our place to Marisa’s and back, grabbing salty booty along the way.

  Ivy joined my mom in the kitchen. They were sympatico and commiserated about how each was dealing with the loss of a spouse. My father passed on five years ago. Ivy’s loss was more recent. As they say, life goes on, despite the immeasurable heartache. Who are “they” anyway?

  My older sons were out with friends enjoying the summer water sports of jet and water skiing. Occasionally they’d pull up to the dock and grab a burger and sodas.

  Ronnie took my hand and led me out back, where it was quieter. Her face, though somber, was much more relaxed. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get together this week. It was a crazy time, waiting for the ME to finish the autopsy. Diane’s family’s Jewish and they were torn about allowing the autopsy. But they really didn’t want to pursue a lawsuit and their desire to find out exactly what happened took precedence. Then the funeral and all… I wanted to let you know how much I appreciated what you did in relaying my mom’s message to me.” We made our way to the water’s edge, heads down. I searched for the right words, but they eluded me.

  “Don’t mention it, really. I just wish I knew more beforehand. That way, maybe…I could’ve helped prevent it.” My mind remained a blank. Words seemed so inadequate.

  “She’s been coming to me in my dreams this week, just saying it was meant to be.” Ronnie looked up from the water into my eyes, seeming to seek answers. Only I wasn’t sure I had any.

  “Just be careful, Ronnie, the air feels heavy today. I don’t understand why, and I feel overly anxious.”

  “I get like that when we entertain,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s that.”

  I smiled. “I don’t think so, I’m starting to get used to these signals. For the next few weeks, be extra careful, seriously.”

  Marc found us by the water’s edge. “Hey, there’s my wife. I was getting a bit nervous, I couldn’t find you,” Marc said, coming up behind Ronnie. He put his arm lovingly around her shoulders.

  Snap! An image crackled in the air and the impression of another arm pushed its way through. I rubbed my eyes as Marc’s arm transformed into a taut, muscular one, and this arm held a blade in its hand. My head began to buzz, and I tried to shake the image away.

  “Ronnie, I want to show you this awesome fountain Jon just brought home,” Marc said to his wife.

  I couldn’t speak. I became solid and heavy, like a piece of furniture. Before the two walked away toward the garage, the arm that held the blade made one clean swipe across Ronnie’s neck.

  “We’ll talk some more later,” Ronnie said, looking over her shoulder.

  I just nodded. Gradually I made my way to the side of the house, leaned against it and tried to get the images out of my head as they came crashing through. I felt sick. A mirror floated before me and slowly began to crackle. Muffled cries echoed in the background, then a crash, which caused the mirror to shatter completely. A message in blood.

  I squatted down, putting my head between my knees. I tried to shake the visions, but they refused to dissipate.

  Blood appeared on walls, splattered in abstract patterns. Panic gripped me and bile rose in my throat. I tried frantically to grab something to use as a weapon. I tripped over a table and hit my head on the ground.

  A stormy sea of energies raged inside me. Once more I stood. This time, familiar voices shattered the silence. I recognized Ronnie’s.

  “The police found out that the special effects pedal was wired incorrectly. Something about the polarities being reversed. I’m not at liberty to discuss that or really any part of the investigation. That detective doesn’t want me to talk about it at all. How can I not? I’ll go crazy if I can’t vent about what happened,” Ronnie complained. “Also, the rubber on the foot pad was filed down to metal. You know we wear tap shoes onstage? For some of the dances.”

  Next was Marisa’s voice. “Oh, shit. That’s horrible, you must’ve been so frightened.”

  I heard a sniffle. “I had to make a list of any wacky fan mail, emails and basically anyone who might have a grudge against me, old boyfriends, especially. I’d been getting some notes on my car and in my mailbox. Angry in nature and vicious. I never dreamed it would get to this. That’s why we moved—it was too close to home, literally,” Ronnie said. “I was the target. That night, the sword I was supposed be holding wasn’t in the designated spot. I couldn’t find it, and before I knew it, Diane had it in her hands, so we just improvised. She took the sword and…well, you know the rest.”

  I had to wait for the waves of emotion to calm within me before I could return to my guests. I prayed Marisa would take Ronnie inside so I could pull myself together.

  “Come on, Ronnie, you need a drink,” Marisa said.

  Thank you, Risa, I thought. I gathered all my strength and turned toward the backyard. In an unexpected flash of stunning energy, he was standing in my path, a hair’s breadth away. A mist of dark energy surrounded us both.

  He whispered in my ear, “You can’t stop me, so don’t try.”

&
nbsp; “Who are you?” I managed to squeak out.

  “I’m disappointed; you haven’t figured it out yet?” He stood behind me. His breath on my skin this time was cold.

  “What do you want?” I tried to walk past him, but froze in place.

  “You’re quite nosy. Curiosity, you know, killed the witch’s familiar.”

  I looked into his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

  “It’s none of your concern. I warned you, stay out of this.”

  “You’re after Ver…” I turned to look at him. He’d vanished.

  The queasiness erupted in my stomach. The shift in vibrations always made me sick. As I sat down, leaning against the house once more, I heard footsteps.

  “How are you doing?” It was Heena. She found me sitting with my eyes closed, taking slow, deep breathes.

  I tried to focus my eyes, but the sun was glaring over Heena’s head, causing me to squint. “I’m not sure yet. Just some weird premonitions.” Scratching my head, I stood slowly. “I just had the strangest ex—”

  “Hellooooo!” Marisa’s familiar voice called from the dining room window. “You aren’t leaving your mom with all the cooking, are you?” Her head poked out after she lifted the window’s screen.

  “We’re out here,” I replied. “We’ll talk later, Heena. I better get in the kitchen.”

  Sally and Kevin had tropical umbrella drinks in hand when Heena and I returned to the festivities. Sally, wearing the traditional red, white and blue of the day, was reminiscent of a pinup girl of the fifties. She looked adorable.

  Jon operated the barbeque, cooking up burgers and hot dogs for the kids. My mom and sister had all the salads in chilled bowls lined with ice on the tables, covered with plastic liners that resembled mini shower caps. Rich threw more seaweed into the fire pit for the clambake. Lobsters, littleneck clams, scallops, corn on the cob and sweet sausages brewed under his masterful hands. He was undoubtedly the King of the Clambake, and wore an apron boasting that very fact. Marisa wouldn’t let him wear his other apron, which stated “I Grill for Sex!” So Jon wore it. My husband, the comedian.