Hexes and X's (Z&C Mysteries, #3) Read online

  “How about conjuring up some gold?” Claire smiled.

  “Alright, alright, I’ll tell you. The Coven House witches are mostly show.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Claire.

  “Well, we like to torment the uppity townspeople. And, we get notoriety, and a little respect.”

  “So this is all about bugging the snoots?” asked Zo, somewhat amused, glancing around, taking in more of the old architecture and decor.

  “No, we have a purpose. What we do is make natural remedies for mildly sick people, tasty potions for people with no courage or no esteem; and, therefore, we do a compassionate service through a lot of psychological help, giving people confidence.”

  “That works out pretty well, does it?” Zo asked again.

  “Why not? We don’t hurt anyone and we add a little color to the community. You’d be surprised at how many people come here. We have a fortune-telling night where people come to petition help for themselves or a loved one. It can be quite serious. Of course nobody wants to be seen here, so they drive to the back and come in through the mud porch. That way the towns-people don’t know where they have been.”

  “Some people have very serious, maybe life-altering problems. I’m not so sure I’d want to take that responsibility,” Claire interjected.

  Matilda nodded, understanding creasing the corners of her eyes further. “We tell them to come back in two days. This is the way it all works: After two days of debating within our coven meetings, we come to a conclusion on how we can best help the people and then send for them to do a palm reading or fortune- telling session—which is essentially all about them receiving good advice—and, maybe give a potion that is really a vitamin drink.

  “For those more serious problems, we’ve got in our coven a retired psychologist, a registered nurse, and two who have PhDs in Herbology or what I call Potion Making 101—they make our mixers. The rest have their special talents.”

  Zoey and Claire were impressed, nodding identically.

  “Now,” Matilda continued, seemingly pleased by their response, “if our RN feels there is something to see a doctor for, well, then we read a palm and tell a fortune which includes instructions to go see a doctor for sure.”

  Claire had to ask, “How did you get these women? Did it happen luckily? …These women felt they had magical powers, or what?”

  “Not exactly…” Matilda smiled to that. “We had to go out and convince them to join. Like I said, we are actually a secret society of community service. Once we convinced these intelligent and skilled women, they joined happily. We also have comradery and fun. So we dress up in our witches costumes to walk around the grounds, and sometimes we walk in a parade, … which can get us a rotten tomato, but then we point a finger and threaten a curse. It actually works.”

  “Then, witchcraft around here is a sweet thing.” Claire was relieved.

  “I’d like to say that; but, there is Cynthia. Cynthia is a real piece of evil work that has been practicing mean magic since a teen. I’d say she fits the profile of a wretched hag witch. For sure there are strange happenings around her and her other two witch friends. They are very jealous of us, and Coven House. Actually, that’s the woman my husband left me for.”

  “He left you for a hag?” This was a point of interest to Zo.

  “She is a moonlight blonde with icy blue eyes, a sexy body and looks great in black satin.”

  “Ooo ow!” said Zo. “Well, we will not at all reveal what you have told us here, Matilda. My admiration for you and your coven sisters has just excelled. Our secret.”

  Claire nodded in agreement. “But wait, Matilda. You have hexed people on sidewalks, and to go bald!”

  “Yeah, how ’bout that?! That bald hex works at least seventy percent of the time, somewhere in their life. And, more fun yet? They check the mirror every morning. Eeee hee hee hee!”

  THREE

  After all the food was brought in, put into the fridge and into a cinnamon-sweet-smelling pantry, the Kanes enjoyed the charming kitchen. Soft yellow cabinetry of diamond-paned glass, along with shiny pots and pans hanging over a large butcher’s block, gave the room a postcard appeal. Garlic bulbs strewn on red twine along windows, added to the feeling. And like looking through a kaleidoscope of colors, assorted jars and bottles of differing provisions sat on the counter, the magenta of pickled beets accenting the deep green of pickled asparagus. Zo suddenly had a desire for homemade bread and rhubarb jam.

  Matilda said, “It’s time for me to get the sketch for you. You can hide it back where I have it when you aren’t looking it over.”

  The Kanes followed Matilda to the library. Deep green velvet draped the sides of a tall stained-glass window, showcasing a fountain’s spray, bluebirds, and all kinds of colorful garden flowers and vines. A sliding ladder reached to lofty places, awaiting those who desire books on the twenty-sixth shelf. Black leather chairs invited readers to sink into them, some beside standing lamps that seemed more like art sculptures. A statue of a woman stood in a corner, designed with her clothing draped in folds down to her bare feet; she held a basket of flowers as she modestly looked down, slightly to her left, whimsical curls adorning her face.

  “Man! This is beautiful,” Claire exclaimed, and looked up to the golden ceiling fans hanging low from a cross-beamed ceiling, set at a slow spin.

  “Yes. Who can actually read, with all this candied environment?” Zo added.

  “Try some of my chocolate nut chews on the desk there.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Zo strolled over and took a couple. “So, where is the hiding place for the sketch?”

  “Not here. I just wanted to show you our library.”

  The two followed Matilda to the second story where she opened double doors at the top. “Here is your room.”

  It was pale green with light and dark pink accents. It had old gold drapes, gold bedspreads, and gold-framed mirrors and pictures, as well as gold bathroom appointments. The toilet had a ceiling tank and long chain, and a bathtub sat on claws over balls.

  “There are many things about Coven House that are antiques. Some things have been brought in by later generations, and then there are things that the coven has saved for and improved— carpeting is one example. We don’t know how to date the statue downstairs in the library. We just think it’s regal. It seems to have always been here, … like the toilet.”

  “Is the sketch in here?” Claire asked.

  “No.” Matilda led them out left, down the hallway to a door at the end. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a skeleton key. “I’m the only one who has this key.”

  Soon they were climbing a circling iron stairway that led them into the attic. There were boxes, a seamstress form, and miscellaneous items that Zo was sure an antique dealer would like to get a hold of. Basically, the floor was swept and there were no cobwebs.

  “How do you expect us to get all scared if there are no cobwebs?” kidded Claire.

  Matilda cackled. “Funny how the dark has a way of changing things.”

  “Mama, Matilda just scared me.”

  “It’s okay, baby.” Zo chuckled and rubbed the back of her daughter’s neck to loosen the chilling feeling.

  “Where is it?” asked Claire looking around.

  “Not here.”

  “What?!” the Kanes exclaimed in unison.

  “Patience.” Matilda walked a ways, pushed a couple of boxes aside, turned her skeleton key around to its ornate end and pushed it between wall slats. The slats sprung out a couple of inches, revealing that it was actually a concealed door. “This way,” she directed.

  They entered another attic room with a round window like a sun drawn by leaded panes. An iron ladder went up to the ceiling where there was a small door. “That leads up to the captain’s walk.”

  “That would be where the wrought iron fence goes around the flat part of the roof?” Zo asked.

  “That is correct, but we aren’t going up there.”


  “Is the sketch in here?” asked Claire.

  “Yes.” Matilda approached four of the wall’s especially old and chipped bricks. “There are bricks in this house, and lap and plaster, which you saw coming up the winding staircase.”

  “I knew we were walking within the skeleton of this house,” Zo said.

  “The key I’m using was just rattling around in a desk drawer. No one threw it away, I think because it is really kind of pretty, and now quite old. I suppose somebody in my family knew at one time it went to an attic door. Everyone knows that now, but what they don’t know is that the other end is a spring key to this further attic of the captain’s walk.”

  Matilda removed two of the bricks, leaving a red-orange dust on her fingers, then explained, “It looked to me as if the slat wall out there wasn’t well-seamed, and I was thinking about a little termite problem when I took my key to dig out a little of the dust. The normal key part was too thick so I turned it over and pushed in this ornate end and the wall popped out a couple of inches. I thought I had broken the damaged wall, but I saw hinges on the inside. I was delighted to make a discovery of the door, and, thus, this room.”

  Zo was already in adventure mode. She inquired, “I think just finding this room is a treasure. Do you suppose that there are many attics in this house because of all the varying roof tops?”

  “Could be. Sounds reasonable, I would guess.” Matilda reached in and pulled out a rolled paper, two-by-two feet. A black-looking finger bone held by a cord flopped around it.

  “Okay, that is really disgusting.” Claire grimaced.

  “You two can look the sketch over at your leisure.” She handed it to Zo since Claire was repulsed. After she closed and locked the secret door and then the attic door, she handed the key to Claire. “Be very careful with this. We don’t want anyone else to have it.” After a little more visiting, Matilda said goodbye, saying she had to go over some books in her office downstairs.

  Claire pushed the key down deep into her pants’ pocket. “What say we go get something to take to our room to eat as we look over the sketch?”

  “Let’s,” Zo agreed, food often being on their minds. “I saw hot chocolate mix and cinnamon rolls.”

  “I saw cold chicken, corn on the cob and potato chips.”

  “Let’s have it all. Then tomorrow it is strictly salad and turkey sandwiches.”

  “Right! Grab the napkins,” Claire added.

  When they got up to their room, they unrolled the sketch and anchored it down to a table with perfume bottles, a tube of toothpaste and a hairbrush. Similar to a builder’s blue print, it showed different levels of the old building. They snacked while walking around the table, not touching anything except to take bites or sips. X’s were inked over four areas—areas hidden in the bowels of the monstrous house. Then there was the lone X in their very bedroom.

  “What do you make of it, Claire dear? Five X’s—one being here?”

  “That is puzzling.” They took a quick scan of their lovely room from their posted positions. “The X’s indicate something all these places have in common, right? Something to find, maybe? Like treasure?”

  “Or clues,” Zo said. “What else does the map show us?”

  “Well, look. There is the picture of the key… and the room under the captain’s walk.”

  “That attic Matilda took us through?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  Zo took a drink of her hot chocolate. “I’ve got that much. This key and the finger have to be serious clues. We need to ask ourselves why somebody was going around with nine fingers so the missing digit could be attached to this map.”

  “You said map.”

  “Did I? Okay.” Zo cocked a brow in interest. “That must be what my subconscious is telling me. This is a map. Perhaps we need to follow the X’s in some order.”

  After walking a circle around the sketch again, Claire noted, “So there is an X in the attic. It looks like it’s the only entryway to get to the other, hidden areas. I think we need to go back up there in the morning and check out what that X could mean.”

  Zo nodded, then felt the soft edge at the top of the map. “It looks torn here. I hope that doesn’t mean we’re missing some important information!”

  A sudden loud clacking vibrated through the high-ceilinged foyer, reverberating up through their bedroom walls. “What on earth?” Zo pressed a hand to her chest. “Is the building falling down?”

  “I think it’s a door knocker, Mom.”

  FOUR

  They both headed for the front door, wondering who would be on the other side.

  It was Slobber.

  “So you are here, my beloved,” he said to Claire. “I can’t come in for any kisses.” He tipped his soiled baseball cap at Zo with a “Hello, ma’am,” and continued, “I’m jus’ here to warn you the little round woman is after you. She bein’ my unbetrothed, ’cause I never did say I would marry up with her.”

  Claire quirked her brows at him. “Okay, and what can I expect from that? A yelling at, in public? She’s going to try and slap me? …Slash my tires?”

  “Nothing so sweet as that, my darlin’. That there is Patricia Bule, close friend to Cindy—the scariest psycho-witch in this state.”

  “Are you referring to Cynthia, the ‘evil hag’?” asked Zo.

  “Ha heh ha,” snorted Slobber. “You called her a hag. Oh, dang! Good one.” His shoulders moved up and down on his thin frame and he lifted a leg as he choked out his laughter. “Wait till she hears that one.” But then, with another thought, he raised an oil-dirty hand and said seriously, “I won’t tell. I won’t tell. I gotta go. I’ll probably get killed, my beloved,” he said, turning to Claire again, and then he ran toward a rusty pickup.

  “You are so brave, Slobber!” Claire extended a hand in his direction, dramatically calling after him.

  “Oh, good! We’ve made friends with a Malevolent Society, daughter.”

  “I like that Slobber,” Claire emphasized.

  “A good man is hard to find in a haystack.”

  “True words, Mother. Too bad I don’t want to live in a haystack.”

  “And, what are the chances I could rent the one next to you?”

  “Yeah. It won’t work.”

  Zo put a sympathetic arm around Claire’s shoulders as they began their climb up the stairs. “It is better to find these things out early.”

  *

  They unpacked their bags, took showers, said a prayer together for the preacher’s wife and for protection from Pat and Cynthia, then climbed into their beds for much-needed sleep.

  “Mom.” Claire’s voice seemed solitary in the dark. “Which is the most scary—our Hillgate mansion or this place?”

  “I think our place was.” Then there was a shatter, something was grunting and an “Owww” came drifting up. “…Until now!”

  A light went on at Claire’s nightstand. Zo had feet on the floor and was struggling to get her arm in her robe’s other sleeve. “Grab your cell phone!”

  “Got it!”

  Zo looked around to find something for a weapon, while an “oof oof” and a “thud, thud” could be heard. She thought about picking up an iron from a cute little wood-burning fireplace, but instead chose a long-handled flashlight out of Matilda’s box of “things that may be useful.” “Maybe you should hide under the bed, Claire, till Mommy gets back.”

  “Ha!” Claire refused. “Besides, it is I who protect you…,” she said but reconsidered. “Er… you protect me.” She remembered back on all those times her mom came to her rescue.

  They both determined, once in the hallway, the sounds must have been coming from outside. They got to the front door and opened it carefully, ready to slam it if anything was on the porch; but, they saw nothing, so they inched out step by step. The sounds became louder. There were two silhouettes growling and struggling against each other on the lawn. Finally, there was a voice: “I’m going to kill you, you idiot!”

  “Not i
f I get offen my back and kill you first!”

  “What are you doing leaping out from the dark? Are you a lunatic?” the first voice snarled.

  “I’m protecting my ladylove, almost betrothed!”

  “And is your ladylove a lawn gnome? A wood nymph?!”

  “No! It is Claire, who is the heat source of our magnetic love.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you are using Claire Kane’s name in vain?!”

  “I don’t know what her last name is, and I don’t care much on accounta she is going to be the new Mrs. Cornswallow!”

  “What?! Why, I ought to let you up just so I can throw you down again.”

  “I tripped!”

  A big bright light beamed in on the trespassers, causing both to blink and squint. It came from Zo’s flashlight.

  “Jack, is that you?” Claire was flabbergasted.

  “Yes. This crazy man attacked me.”

  Claire giggled.

  Jack wiped some mussed blond hair off his forehead. “He said you are engaged to him. Is that right?”

  “I did not! I said ‘almost.’ We haven’t had time to come to an understandin’ yet,” Slobber defended. “These things has got to be done with finesse. Don’t they, darlin’?!” He looked up at Claire with a big smile, showcasing a couple missing teeth.

  “What Slobber says.” Claire’s eyes drilled into Jack’s.

  “Well, I don’t believe it,” Jack volleyed. “Come on now, Claire. We have a couple things to talk over. You have misjudged me. We need to talk a little… Just a little.”

  “You can talk all you want. It don’t do ya any good,” said Slobber, who everyone forgot was still pinned by Jack.

  A few raindrops began to fall. Big ones. The type that smack the head in threat of a torrential downpour. Zo told Jack to get off Slobber, so he could go home. Slobber refused to leave until Zo and Claire convinced him he didn’t need to sit in front of their bedroom door with a shotgun he kept in his pickup. When wet hair was sticking to their faces and rain was pouring off the ends of everyone’s nose, Slobber relented and jogged toward his truck.