The Witch Of Agnesi Part 27

As she shuffled past, Rhiannon gave Bonnie a ques-tioning look. "You're wasting your time. There'll be no changing that girl's mind. She's hurting too much right now."

"You're probably right."

Rhiannon just shook her head and patted Bonnie's face. "Knock yourself out, Pinkwater."

I must be some kind of glutton for punishment. She caught up with Rue and Jack as they neared a white Econoline van. Rue tugged on her husband's arm, and they halted. She caught up with Rue and Jack as they neared a white Econoline van. Rue tugged on her husband's arm, and they halted.

Rue Sheridan stood a full head shorter than Bonnie, but outweighed her by at least twenty pounds. She and her equally short husband were both almost as wide as they were tall with thick limbs, ruddy faces, and short-cropped gray hair. They even dressed alike in khaki pants and s.h.i.+rts. A decade ago the pair had been horse people, raising and showing Arabians, but Molly's ac-cident had changed all that. Now only a black stallion embroidered on Rue's s.h.i.+rt pocket hinted of that life.

Before Bonnie could offer condolences, Rue held up a silencing hand. "Edmund always spoke very highly of you, said you were the best teacher in East Plains." The woman spoke each word with a measured precision as if she needed to keep a tight rein on her emotions.

The compliment caught Bonnie off-guard. As much as she loved hearing accolades of this kind, the praise felt like a prelude to a larger statement. She didn't have long to wait.

Rue took her arm and pulled her close. "Which is why I don't for a minute believe that Edmund did this . . ." She nodded toward Bonnie's crutches. ". . . thing to you last Friday evening."

Bonnie wasn't sure how to respond. What good would it do to bring up the evidence found in Jesse's truck?

Rue must have taken her silence for agreement be-cause the woman nodded conspiratorially. "We're not stupid people, Missus Pinkwater. We know things weren't right with Edmund . . . hadn't been right for months-the sneaking out to see his girlfriend in the middle of the night, the lying. But I know he was no murderer."

Bonnie tried to give Rue her full attention, but her eyes kept straying to Molly. The girl had rolled her chair alongside the white van. She opened the driver's door. In one fluid motion, with her left arm she pushed herself up and out of the wheelchair, then reaching a surprisingly muscled right toward the inner roof of the cab, she swung out of the chair onto the driver's seat. Twisting as she leapt, she landed facing her wheelchair. She then reached back, hoisted up the chair, and with practiced ease, collapsed it flat. The entire procedure took less than five seconds.

Jack Sheridan hastened to open the side door of the van, but it opened automatically before he reached it.

Molly, with one arm, swung the flattened chair into a recess behind the driver's seat. Jack strapped it into place.

My G.o.d, how could I have not noticed the phy-sique on this child? That chair weighs forty pounds if an ounce. Yet, she collapsed and maneuvered it in mid-air as if it were made out of papier-mache'.

Rue must have watched at least part of the scene, because she said, "Molly's quite an athlete. She played basketball this winter and wheelchair softball the sum-mer before."

"She looks like she lifts weights."

Smiling, Rue nodded the proud-mother-nod. "She does, and can bench press her weight."

Molly slammed shut the driver door then, with a whir, the side door slid shut. Moments later the van's engine turned over.

"She drives?" Almost as she said it, Bonnie felt fool-ish. Handicapped vehicles certainly weren't unknown, even in East Plains.

Rue c.o.c.ked her head as if Bonnie might be mentally challenged. "Why not? After all, it's her van. We had it outfitted by a firm in Denver. I'm still getting used to her going off on her own."

Bonnie returned her gaze to Rue. "You mean with-out any a.s.sistance?" Again she winced at how much she sounded like someone new to this century. Oooo, look at the tall buildings. Oooo, look at the tall buildings.

"You bet." Rue leaned in conspiratorially. "I shouldn't worry, I know. She's a capable young woman. I couldn't tell you the number of times I've seen her get that wheelchair in and out by herself."

Jack Sheridan gave his wife an are-you-coming look.

"In a minute." She waved him on.

He frowned and with hands jammed in his pockets, stamped around the far side of the van. The pa.s.senger door opened then slammed shut.

Rue turned an icy stare back on Bonnie. "I don't care how it looks, Missus Pinkwater, Edmund is inno-cent. He had no reason to hurt that Templeton girl. As for Peyton, he and Edmund were best friends."

Yet, this best friend saw to it that Peyton got his thirteen-year-old a.s.s kicked by Jesse Poole. Bonnie studied Rue trying to see if the woman actually be-lieved the things she was saying. No doubt, she wanted her grief untainted by accusations of theft and murder. Bonnie wished she could help make that not-unreason-able desire a reality, but try as she might, she didn't see any way to ease the woman's pain. Bonnie studied Rue trying to see if the woman actually be-lieved the things she was saying. No doubt, she wanted her grief untainted by accusations of theft and murder. Bonnie wished she could help make that not-unreason-able desire a reality, but try as she might, she didn't see any way to ease the woman's pain.

"When was the last time you saw Edmund?"

"Friday morning. We let him sleep in and miss school after the late night he had Thursday."

Late night?

Not a few bells and sirens went off in Bonnie's brain. She'd dropped him off at the high school before ten o'clock. He should have been home easily by ten-thirty-not all that late for a teenager.

"What time did he get home?"

Rue must have caught the agitation in Bonnie's voice. Like an aged Mister Spock in drag, she elevated her right eyebrow. "I can't say really. Jack and I went to bed around midnight, but we knew Edmund would be late. He used your cell phone to call us from that church."

Bonnie could feel her heart beating faster in her chest. Thursday evening, Edmund had told her he hadn't been able to get hold of his parents. He'd used that argument to remain at the Interfaith Academy and cobble a ride home from her. Why are you so sur-prised? You knew Peyton spent Thursday night in the Sheridan's barn. Did you think the boy genius grew wings and flew there? Why are you so sur-prised? You knew Peyton spent Thursday night in the Sheridan's barn. Did you think the boy genius grew wings and flew there?

"Did Edmund tell you he hid Peyton in your barn?"

Rue hesitated then shook her head. "I didn't even know Peyton had been missing until the police found his body."

Another hesitation followed, so long in fact that Bonnie was readying another question when Rue added, "But I'm not surprised that Edmund would hide his friend from that awful man."

"You mean Colonel Newlin?"

Before Rue could answer, the white van reversed and pulled up next to Rue and Bonnie.

Both women had to step out of the way.

With an elbow out the window, Molly frowned at Rue. "Mother, I'm tired, and I want to go home."

The statement was followed by a cold scowl aimed at Bonnie as if somehow she was keeping her mother prisoner.

Rue didn't respond to the complaint or even look at her daughter. "In answer to your question, Missus Pinkwater, yes, I definitely mean Colonel Ralph Newlin. That man is a monster. I pitied his poor wife and son. I worried for Edmund every time he went to that house."

Bonnie peered at Molly. How much of what you know have you shared with your mother? How much of what you know have you shared with your mother? "Had he been doing much of that of late?" "Had he been doing much of that of late?"

"Going to the Newlin house? Quite a bit, actually, why do you ask?"

"Do you want to tell her or should I?" Bonnie laid a hand on Molly's arm.

The girl yanked her arm out of reach. "I knew I should never have talked to you. This is none of your business."

Rue stared first at Bonnie then Molly. "Does this have to do with the e-mails Sergeant Valsecci asked about?"

Bonnie folded her arms across her chest. "Molly?"

The girl exhaled in exasperation. "I told you a dozen times, Mother, it's that Griffith b.i.t.c.h. She's the one Edmund had been sneaking out to see." Molly glared an I-hope-you're-satisfied-glare at Bonnie.

As for Rue, her already ruddy face turned two shades darker. Like a shot, she slapped her daughter. "I won't have you using language like that."

Rue approached the driver's window as if she meant to pull her daughter through it. "And I told you time and again, I don't believe Edmund was seeing Ali Griffith."

Rue slammed a callused hand against the van door. "The same thing I told the police."

Oh my, now this is getting interesting. "If you don't mind my asking, why don't you believe your son was involved with Ali Griffith?" "If you don't mind my asking, why don't you believe your son was involved with Ali Griffith?"

"Because he told me he wasn't, when I asked."

That's a tough one to refute.

Still rubbing her now-flushed face, Molly snorted and pointed an accusing finger at Bonnie. "But you know it's true, and now you're breaking bread with the . . ."

Rue shot her daughter a threatening glance.

"Witch!" Molly's voice broke and her features contorted. Folding her arms across the steering wheel, she buried her face in them. Her body shook with her sobs.

A pang of guilt swept over Bonnie. I should leave this grieving family in peace. I should leave this grieving family in peace. She stood mute for a mo-ment then approached the van. This time when she laid a hand on the girl, she didn't pull away. "You're wrong, Molly. I don't think Ali was seeing your brother. And I don't think she murdered him." She stood mute for a mo-ment then approached the van. This time when she laid a hand on the girl, she didn't pull away. "You're wrong, Molly. I don't think Ali was seeing your brother. And I don't think she murdered him."

"Liar," Molly said, but her accusation carried no conviction as if the girl had lost the energy to argue.

"I'm not lying, Molly. Ali has been busy all week-end with a witch's celebration called Beltane. She simply hasn't had the time." Bonnie ignored the voice in her head that spoke of the missing time early Friday morning. After all, Edmund died Sat.u.r.day night.

Molly sniffled and raised her head. Her eyes were no longer accusing. "What about the e-mails? What about Your Wicked Little Witch?"

Bonnie shrugged. "I haven't worked all that out yet, but my gut tells me there's another explanation for that Nom De Plume Nom De Plume."

She rubbed a soothing hand across the girl's back. "The police will catch your brother's killer, Molly. I promise."

How in h.e.l.l am I going to keep that vow?

BONNIE PLOPPED DOWN INTO THE CHAIR AS SOON AS Armen slid it out. "Merci, Mister Callahan." Mister Callahan."

The rest of the troop sat arrayed around a large circular table. On her left sat Winston then Rhian-non. Ali was directly across. To Bonnie's right, Armen resumed his seat. Jesse completed the scene, looking more than a little nervous next to Ali.

Bonnie shook out her napkin. "Did you all order?"

She offered a convivial smile and noticed the tight faces on her companions, particularly Rhiannon and Ali. Red blotches mottled the girl's cheeks.

Wonderful. Someone's p.i.s.sed, and I think I know at whom.

For a long moment no one spoke. Ali and Rhiannon exchanged glances, both apparently uncomfortable.

"That girl thinks I murdered her brother?" Al-though Ali asked it as a question, the words carried the finality of a statement.

Bonnie held Ali's gaze with hers. She saw no point in lying to the girl. "I believe so."

Lips pursed, Ali nodded a resigned nod. "She thinks I'm this Wicked Little Witch?"

Bonnie matched her nod, waiting for the inevitable question. Still, neither she nor the girl relinquished eye contact.

"How about you? Is that what you think?" Al-though barely above a whisper, Ali's voice was hard, just shy of accusatory.

Bonnie had to admire the girl's forthrightness.

Let's get right to it. "I don't buy it, but I couldn't tell you why. Truth be told, my dear, if I didn't know you, I'd think you were as guilty as sin." "I don't buy it, but I couldn't tell you why. Truth be told, my dear, if I didn't know you, I'd think you were as guilty as sin."

Ali held Bonnie's gaze for a moment longer then looked down at her lap. "Thanks for being honest. I know me, too, and I think I look guilty." She blinked furiously, her lower lip trembling.

Rhiannon put an arm around her daughter. "Ev-erything's going to be fine, baby."

Ali shook her head. "No, it's not, Mother. Three of my friends have been killed, including my best friend. This is East Plains, remember? By tomorrow morning everyone will be talking about how I did it."

A great tear spilled out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. "My friends are dead and all I can think about is how it makes me look."

Bonnie wanted to tell her to stop beating herself up, but didn't trust herself not to sound like a teacher on a scold.

"Not everyone thinks you did it." Jesse's voice seemed to emerge disembodied from the ether. All heads turned in his direction.

"The people in my trailer park have got me pegged for Edmund."

Momentarily, Ali regarded Jesse like an unwelcome intruder, and then her stony face softened. "At least you won't have them thinking you're already evil be-cause you're a witch."

"Nope." Jesse rubbed a paw across his bald dome. "They just think I'm a skinhead hood."

A well-aren't-you? look made a brief appearance on Ali's face, and then fled leaving behind a mix of curios-ity and sympathy.

"You kind of do look the part." Ali offered a not unkind half-smile.

Jesse reddened, clearly pleased at any show of af-fection from Ali. "You ain't exactly hiding who you are either."

Bonnie wondered if these two children might be good for one another. Get a grip, Pinkwater. This isn't the Dating Game. Either one of them could be a cold-blooded killer. Get a grip, Pinkwater. This isn't the Dating Game. Either one of them could be a cold-blooded killer.

Ali regarded Jesse for a long moment. "Why should I?"

The boy held up both his hands and pulled back. "No one's saying you should."

She gave him one more glance before turning back to Bonnie. "Mother told you about me going out to the balefire pyre Thursday night."

And now we get to it. "Yes, she did." "Yes, she did."

"So you're thinking, maybe the little witch drove over to Edmund's. Maybe she s.n.a.t.c.hed him up and throttled him with her broom."

Bonnie and Armen exchanged glances. Did Frank-lin inform Ali how Edmund died? Bonnie didn't think so. "Young lady, you're either innocent or trickier than you look." Bonnie didn't think so. "Young lady, you're either innocent or trickier than you look."

Rhiannon gave Bonnie a quizzical look. "That's a left-handed compliment, Pinkwater. Sounds as if Ali has to be either stupid or guilty."

Bonnie was saved from having to respond by the sudden appearance of a thin-as-a-rail waitress. Like all the employees at Geraldine's, the young woman had the raw-boned look of someone training for a marathon. For the next few minutes, while everyone ordered, Bonnie gathered her thoughts.