Chapter 16

Eckle felt anger well inside himself, as he viewed the body of Mrs. Denton. Whoever attacked her did so with viciousness he had never seen before. Moira Denton’s head was struck with powerful blows. The coroner estimated at least six, enough to kill her three times over.

Her nephew Roger stood beside him, weeping as he identified her body. “Who would do this to her?” He said, wiping tears off his cheeks. “She could be cold and distant but I can’t think of a thing that she could have done to cause someone to kill her, Sheriff.”

“I hate to ask but could you go throw her house with a deputy sometime tomorrow. Just to see if anything is missing. We’re trying to figure out if it was a robbery. Has she had any arguments with her neighbors or anyone that you can think of?”

“No sir. No one. I don’t mind going through the house. Though she didn’t ever let me go beyond the parlor. I won’t know what’s missing. Maybe you should check with her insurance agent. She had most of her possessions insured. I’ll get his info for you.”

“That would be appreciated. Here’s my card. Call me if you think of something. Doesn’t matter what time.” Eckle squeezed Roger’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about this. We’ll do our best to find the maniac who killed her.” He walked to the turn. With his hand on the door knob, he turned to Roger. “By the way, where were you today?”

Aghast, Roger said, “You can’t think I would do this?”

“Now I’m not saying that. But by law, we have to rule you out as a suspect.”

“I was at work all day. My boss can vouch for me.” Roger wrung his hands together. His face was full of five o’clock stubble. He rubbed his hand across it, causing a grating sound that echoed in the quietness of the morgue. Sheriff Eckle tried to read his expression, but it was closed to him—almost guarded.

“I’ll send a deputy by tomorrow to get his statement. Thanks for co-operating. One of us will call you tomorrow about the insurance information and also arrange a time for you to stop by and go through the house. In the meantime, it’s still a crime scene and you aren’t allowed inside it.”
Eckle left the morgue.

On his way to the Lambert house he stopped by the station to see if O’Reilly had developed the photos from the McHenry house break-in. To the sheriff’s delight he had, but to his disappointment the Denton film hadn’t been processed. Eckle took a copy of the McHenry photos and left instructions for O’Reilly to work on the Denton photos pronto. He put the copies in his briefcase and left for the Lambert house, after getting a briefing from Hunter regarding the current status of both cases.

As he was leaving the station, he got a call from Roman Ouellette. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to the jerk, but as a public servant it was his duty to take the call.

Ouellette wasted no time in getting to the point of his call. “Sheriff, I know who killed Old Lady Denton. That damn witch next-door. Lava Lambert. Or Lamplighter. That’s her witch name. I’ve seen it on some of her mail when I collect their garbage.”

“That’s not proof of anything. Until I have concrete evidence, I’m not arresting anyone.”

“I’ll get your proof. Tomorrow night is a full moon. She dances naked with Satan during full moons. You’ll have your proof then, Mr. Doubting Sheriff. You know, Brown would have hauled her in for questioning by now. Get your thumb out of your ass, Sheriff and do something.”

“Ouellette, don’t do something stupid. I’ll ignore that comment about my ass.”

Ouellette shouted into the phone, “You dumbass redneck sheriff-wanna-be.”

Before Eckle could reply Ouellette broke the connection. The sheriff muttered, “Dill weed!” into the silence of the phone. Just what he needed, a rogue idiot doing private investigation! He would stop by and have a word with him before going over to the Lambert residence.

Chapter 15

As they walked away down the street to see Mrs. Denton, Todd and Cinnamon laughed over the absurdity of her being a witch. “Did you see those deputies, Todd? They acted as if I could hex them with just a glance.”

Todd laughed, “Can you? The sheriff thinks you’ve bewitched me.” Todd was pleased to see a blush touch her cheeks. “Hey did you see that fat deputy who almost walked into a tree while trying to eavesdrop on you and Sheriff Eckle? Roman Ouellette pisses me off. He started the witch-hunt. Why does that asshole have it in for you and your mom, Cinnamon?”

“When we first moved beside him, he propositioned mom a few times. She told him off in front of his poker friends, embarrassing him as only Mother can. Since then he’s been obsequious with his arrogance, going out of his way to harass us. Mother says to ignore him, so I do my best too. We had the high fence put up between our house and his so he wouldn’t peep at us over the hedge. He’s partly the reason Mother had Little Joe on the back porch. I wonder who stole him.” Cinnamon continued before Todd could comment, though he didn’t mind her musing aloud. He loved being with her. “I bet it was Roman Ouellette, trying to stir up trouble for us.”

He took her hand on impulse. It was warm and soft, fitting in his as if it were meant to live there. He reassured her. “Everyone knows he’s a trouble-maker. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be your body guard.”

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I think Sheriff Eckle is an honorable man. It will be interesting to watch the exchange of wits between him and Mother. She won’t be happy to know that Little Joe was kidnapped. I hope she doesn’t go into her hippy performance. She enjoys the fact that people tend to stereotype her. Ah, we’re here.”

The walk to Mrs. Denton’s house went quickly. They ran the front doorbell but got no answer. Todd said, “I bet she’s in the back of the house. I think her hearing isn’t so good. Let’s go around to the back door and try it.”

Both were surprised to see it slightly open. It was a warm day but a spring breeze blew causing the air to be nippy. Todd pushed it open, calling out “Hello, Mrs. Denton. It’s Todd Roberts and Cinnamon Lambert. We came by to make sure you’re doing okay.” He got no answer. He and Cinnamon exchanged a look.

“She has to be here, Todd.” Cinnamon walked into the kitchen. A second later she screamed, turning to Todd and burying her face into his shirt. Over her head he saw Mrs. Denton on the floor with a stream of blood around her. He pulled Cinnamon outside onto the porch and called 911 with his cell phone.

The police and ambulance arrived promptly but there was little that could be done for Mrs. Denton. She was struck several times on the head. Whoever did it, made sure the job was done thoroughly. Deputy Ward, the fat deputy who Todd referred to earlier waited outside with him and Cinnamon. He kept a good distance from them, watching Cinnamon cry as if she were a novelty act. Todd did what he could to comfort her. He was in a state-of-shock himself, wondering who could be so brutal to an old lady. He prayed that they hadn’t disturbed any evidence. Things didn’t look good for Cinnamon. He could see how the police might suspect she had something to do with the chain of events. But he had been with her all afternoon. She was at the McHenry house when Mrs. Denton was driven home earlier. And she hadn’t left his sight.

When the sheriff arrived, Todd noticed how Cinnamon clung to him, as if he were her father. In her anguish, her trust for him showed and Todd hoped that the sheriff took note of it. It pained Todd to see her so distraught. The sheriff was right. She was his girl. Todd watched how delicately he dealt with Cinnamon. When he told Todd to get her home, Todd wasted no time. Once there, he held her hand as she fell asleep on the couch, waiting for her mom while the deputy made himself at home in the kitchen reading an astrology magazine that had been left on the table. Todd held her hand and watched her sleep, thinking how angels must be jealous of her beauty.

Chapter 14

Unlike her daughter Cinnamon, Lava Lambert loved her name. She also loved the sleepy little town they called home. It gave off a pink aura, which made her feel comfortable enough to make an attempt to grow roots there. Being a single parent had been tough on her, yet she managed to raise a very mature and intelligent daughter—one she didn’t always see eye-to-eye with. Lava liked to blame it on their Zodiac signs. She was a Scorpio and Cinnamon was a Leo. Water and fire were complete opposites. She could attest to that. Lava believed in things she couldn’t see or touch, something Cinnamon never could fully understand. Before she would blindly believe in something that wasn’t tangible, one had to provide many facts to Cinnamon’s stern scientific mind. They clashed often, spiritual Lava silent as a frustrated Cinnamon lectured. There never was a declared winner during their many deliberations.

Darkness fell over the sky with a hint of lavender on the horizon. Lava drove slowly, listening to music of the 70’s and humming off-key. She had spent the day at the retirement home on the south side of town, teaching yogi exercises to the able-bodied residents. When Lava had to entrust her mother to the tender care of a retirement home ten years ago, she had promised herself that she would devote a day a week, volunteering at one no matter where she lived. So many of the residents were lonely, rarely getting visitors. Lava had a feeling that she would probably end up in one when she was beyond caring for herself. But she didn’t worry about that now. She was in her prime, even if she was almost touching forty.

She slammed on her car brakes the moment she turned onto her street. Every nerve fiber, every goose bump emitted a chill that almost caused her to faint from over stimulation. Something wasn’t right with the aura. Her intuition told her to run, to turn around and not look back. But she couldn’t. She had a daughter to think about—not her own cowardly hide. With her stomach fluttering with a million butterflies, Lava drove down the street. She pulled into her driveway without noticing the patrol car sitting in front of Roman Ouellette’s house, nor the one across the street at the creepy McHenry house. What she noticed was a tall man of sculptured stone standing at her door, arm poised as if to knock. Her headlights blinded him and he was the epitome of a deer caught in headlights. His badge glowed ominously right before she cut the lights and killed the engine.

Lava hurried out of the car, as he stood waiting. Her bag caught in the door handle, causing her to bounce back against the car. She fought with it, but it wouldn’t untangle. The officer stood for a moment watching her. When it was obvious she was losing, he hurried over to help her.

“Let me do it. You’re making it worse.” His voice was very gruff and full of testosterone, the kind that men of authority love to use. He was six feet, give or take an inch. He towered over her five-foot frame. She felt small and helpless, as he worked to free the handles of her bag. “There you go. You were going clockwise when you should have went counter clockwise.”

“Thank you,” she said, as she took her bag from him, feeling like a character in a Three Stooges film. He followed her to the porch. She climbed the front steps but stopped when she was slightly taller than him. She looked down at him and asked, “May I help you?”

His bemused expression flitted briefly. He mastered it and put on his professional mask. Extending his hand he introduced himself, “I’m Sheriff Eric Eckle. And I’m here to talk to you about the murder of Mrs. Moira Denton and the break-in at the McHenry house.”

WC 8870

Chapter 13

For the second time that day, yellow tape isolated another house from the curiosity of a nervous crowd. Darkness fell as the authorities worked on gathering evidence. When the coroner arrived, the crowd settled into silence only broken by an occasional whispered prayer. Mrs. Denton left her beloved home wearing a black bag. Her salon-tinted hair blue now matted with blood and her favorite sweater also ruined were hidden from the curious eyes of the crowd. Something she would have been happy to know, because she never did like not looking her best.

Sheriff Eckle and Deputy Hunter huddled in a corner, quietly discussing the day’s event, while the other worker bees droned on with their duties. “Now who would want to kill Mrs. Denton, Sheriff?”

“Wish I knew Hunter. I can’t imagine her having many enemies. Hell, the kids teased her but none of them would kill her. Damn Hunter, whoever did kill her…they used over killed. The back of her head looked like mush.”

“I talked to the Deputy who drove her home. He said she was slightly upset, but mostly she was excited about her find. Her fifteen minutes of fame. When he helped her inside, he said the house seemed secure. Not that he thoroughly checked it. Hell, I wouldn’t have either. How were we to know she was in danger?”

“Could have been a spontaneous murder. One of opportunity. Mrs. Denton’s back was to the perpetrator. As close as the table is to the stove, I bet the cane was leaning against a chair. The perp picked it up and wham…then wham a few more times. Has anyone gotten in touch with her nephew? We need to find out if anything was stolen. This could still be a simple case of a burglary gone wrong.”

“We’re working on that now, Sheriff. But I don’t think we’ll find anything missing. It looks like she was entertaining someone.” Hunter’s voice dropped, “Do you think the Lambert girl has anything to do with this? I’m not saying she does.”

“No. I don’t think so. But I’m not closing that door yet. Not until I talk to her mother. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her. If she’s anything like the daughter, I may need to question her after three cups of coffee. That kid is all brains. Smartest woman I’ve ever met. If I were twenty years younger…”

“You’re out of luck, Sheriff. Todd Roberts is smitten with her. He’s a good kid, Sheriff. Brainy and brawny. Not the type to get mixed up with the wild crowd. Unless he’s bewitched.” Hunter’s expression reflected his inner turmoil—questions on top of questions.

“Do you think you can handle things here, Hunter? Make sure you stay on the young crime lab guy’s ass. He looks pissed off. Probably missed a hot date tonight. Have Gilford to post a man outside the McHenry house for the night. It may not be related to this crime, but I believe in covering all the bases. I want to go by the morgue and talk to the coroner. Then stop by the Lambert house. See if I can find out more about them. According to the girl, they were friendly with Mrs. Denton. As for Todd, see if you can do some probing tomorrow at the high school. I’m betting old Owl-Eyes’ theory about the scene over at the McHenry house being teen related is correct.”

“I’ll do that, Sheriff. Be careful over at that house.”

“Yea, maybe I shouldn’t look into their eyes. We both know Sheriff Brown wouldn’t.” Both men suppressed a smile that would have been inappropriate under the circumstances.

WC=8208

Chapter 12

The coppery smell of blood assaulted their noses, as the sheriff and the crime lab guys walked into Mrs. Denton’s kitchen. She lay on the floor between the stove and the table, in a puddle of blood originating from her head. Her cane lay on the table, its ivory handle now as red as a ruby. Blood stained the white linen tablecloth. An array of muffins was arranged with care on a platter. Under the muffins was a lace doily, which reminded the Sheriff of how delicate and lady like Mrs. Denton had been. Scattered on the floor close to her was the broken remains of a teacup and saucer. On the stove, a kettle screamed. One of the deputies lifted it off the burner. In the silence, sobbing sounded from far away.

“Who found her?” The sheriff had his suspicions.

Dwayne Gilford, one of the older deputies answered. “Todd Roberts called it in. The witch’s daughter was with him. He said they didn’t go beyond the doorway. The girl’s hysterical.”

“Gilford, do not address Miss Lambert or her mother as witches, ever again. Even if they are, there’s no law against it. We’re to keep an open neutral mind. I’m talking to all of you. Is that clear?”

“Sorry Chief.” Gilford and the others muttered, looking uncomfortable with the chastising.

“Where’s Miss Lambert?”

“She’s in the garden with Todd and Ward. Figured it was best for them to wait out there, Chief. Its not a pretty picture in here and the girl is upset over it.”

Eckle’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Well, its nice to see you used your brain, Gilford.” To Hunter he said, “Help these guys out if they need it. I’m going to talk to the kids.”

He followed the sound of tears. It unnerved him a little, the fact that the stoic faced girl lost her composure. Her sobs echoed and Eckle felt he would hear them in his sleep tonight—if he managed to get any. When she saw him, Cinnamon threw herself in his arms. He comforted her as best as he could, never having much experience with children, he felt clumsy. When she finally calmed down, he held her hand as Todd spoke first in a shaky voice.

“The backdoor was cracked open when we got here. So I called out to her and there was no answer. We could hear the kettle on the stove, and figured she couldn’t hear our greeting. I went in first and Cinnamon followed. I saw the broken teacup on the floor and thought at first that she had fallen. Then Cinnamon screamed. That’s when I noticed the blood. We ran out. I was afraid whoever did it might be around. Cinnamon wanted to go back in but I told her that would be a bad idea. Sheriff, I could tell from all the blood that she was beyond help.”

“Is that what happened, Miss Lambert? Can you add anything?” As Todd talked, she had painfully squeezed Eckle’s hand.

“Red candles. There were read candles lit.” She began to cry once again. He dismantled himself from her and motioned for Todd to take her.

“Take your girl home. Get her to lie down for a while. See if you can find her mom. I’ll be over as soon as we’re done here.”

“Yes sir. Come on, Cinnamon. Let’s get you home.” His girl! The Sheriff called that one.
She called to the sheriff as he walked away. “Mrs. Denton didn’t get many visitors, but I did notice that she had another teacup and saucer on the table, sir. I think her nephew comes by once a week. But it’s usually in the morning. He doesn’t stay very long either.”

“Good girl. Sharp eyes. Now get on home.” On impulse he told Deputy Ward to accompany them. With a killer loose, he didn’t want to take any chances.

WC 7596

Chapter 11

With an ironclad stare that would wither the average male, Cinnamon Lambert proclaimed, “Contrary to public opinion, my mother and I are not involved in wild diablerie.” Sheriff Eckle met her eyes with a blank stare.

Todd translated, “Cinnamon and her mom aren’t witches. I’ve been over at her house a bunch of times and I’ve never been bewitched.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Eckle said under his breath. “Miss Lambert, is your mother home? I have some questions for her.”

“No. I don’t know where she could be. But she’s usually home no later than 7.”

“And your father?”

Her lips tightened until there were fine lines around them. She looked as if she were biting back bitter words. “My parents are divorced. And we have no contact with my …father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Must be hard not having a father around.”

“We fend for ourselves. Always have and always will.”

“Well, when your mother gets in tonight tell her to stay put. I’ll be around before 9 to ask a few routine questions. In the meantime, I want you to stick close to home, young lady. Half the town is convinced you’re a witch. So stay put.”

“I will after I check on Mrs. Denton. She’s alone.” Cinnamon surprised the sheriff by offering a slender hand. “Thank you for being so professional without the brutality so many figures of authority use today. I am sure there is a logical explanation lurking underneath all this confusion. Sheriff, my Mother often tells me to listen with my inner ear, even if my eyes disagree. Maybe you should keep that in mind, sir.”

“Your mother is full of antidotes. I’m looking forward to meeting her.” He briefly took cool hand. “Now, get going.”

As the teenagers walked away, he called to Todd “Keep an eye out, Todd.” He watched them until they were out of sight. Then he hurried inside to see how the investigation was shaping up.

“Hey Boss,” Delbert greeted him. “Hot time in the city. We’ve found blood and semen. I took some samples. Both were found in the circle and semen was in the bowl of herbs—rosemary from the smell. No prints anywhere.”

“Not even on the candles?”

Owl-Eyes answered, “No. They’re burnt down to nubs. Interesting because they aren’t black—they’re dark purple. I thought witches burned black candles during their black mass.”

“And the blood?” Instead of answers, the team’s findings were giving him more questions.

“It’s small trace amounts. Could be from the intercourse. We’ll run some tests on it to be sure. I don’t think there’s been a major sacrifice. The pattern it left doesn’t suggest violence. In fact, my opinion is that no major crimes have been committed, other than sex acts, drugs maybe and practical jokes. The whole set-up reeks of teenage antics.”

The Sheriff exhaled. “That’s a relief. I don’t need a murder on my hands.”

From the doorway, Deputy Ward spoke, “Sorry Sheriff but I’m afraid we’ve got one. Mrs. Denton’s dead. Some kids just found her."

WC=6944

Chapter 10

So intent on showing the lab guys the rag doll that was found under the porch, at first Sheriff Eckle didn’t notice the crowd’s disturbance. But when he realized the girl was in danger, a string snapped in his usual calm demeanor. He meant every word he said. If he had to arrest the whole town he would without blinking his eyes. With the girl safely behind him, he watched the crowd reluctantly drift away. Once he felt the danger was over the turned to question her.

“Miss Lambert, may I ask why you crossed the police line and almost instigated a riot?”

She dropped down beside Delbert who was examining the rag doll Mrs. Denton found earlier. “Because you have Little Joe. Mother will be upset when she finds out he’s not on the back porch.” In a sharp tone to Delbert she said, “Don’t poke him. He’s very old and his fabric is delicate. Why does he smell like rosemary?”

“Ah, that’s the herb. I’ve been trying to place it,” said Delbert.

Sheriff Eckle exchanged looks with Hunter. Maybe Deputy Ward’s rumors had some truth to them. “Miss, would you care to elaborate? How is this rag doll related to you? And how did it get here? I am beginning to believe that you know more about this situation than you are admitting.”

“I have no idea how he got here, Sir. He’s been in the family since before I was born. My Grandmother Willow made him for my mother when she was a little girl. To keep out trespassers, we seat him in a chair on the back porch, so it looks as if someone is watching. You wouldn’t believe the quantity of people who slink into our backyard to spy on us.” With swiftness, Cinnamon stood up and took a few steps back, “How did red wax get on his pants?”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Her answers seemed too concise. Sheriff Eckle had his doubts. Maybe he shouldn’t look her in the eyes.

“Sir, we do not use red candles in our house. My mother is adamant about it.” Her voice shook as she spoke. It was clearly noticeable that she was upset. She felt Todd’s comforting hand on her arm. She leaned against him to gather some of his strength. Seeing the red wax dried on Little Joe’s pants set off a warning inside her. If they knew her mother, all of them would be worried too.

Sheriff Eckle motioned for Hunter to take the lab guys to the other scene, while he questioned Miss Lambert. He was trying to remain neutral regarding her and any involvement she might have with whatever went on inside. From Hunter’s expression, the Sheriff knew he was ready to brand her a witch.

“Let’s have a seat on the porch steps, Miss Lambert. You’re pale.” She hesitated, looking at the boy as if for direction. “It’s okay if your boyfriend comes along. I just want to get to the bottom of all this.”

Once they were settled comfortably on the steps, Sheriff Eckle decided he would be direct with her. She was the type who didn’t mince words. So he wouldn’t mince his either. “Miss Lambert, do you know Mrs. Denton who lives on the corner?”

“Yes Sir. She’s a sweet lady. When we moved in, she brought over a chicken casserole. Mother visits her once a month. She believes we shouldn’t ignore our elderly because they hold the keys to our past.”

“Your mother is correct. We shouldn’t ignore them, but at times we do. Well, she was harassed today by some punks on skateboards. She fell in the front lawn of this house and saw your rag doll stuffed under the porch.”

“Oh no, did she get hurt?”

“No she’s fine. She believed it was a person and called for help. A neighbor called us and an ambulance to the scene. We soon realized it was a doll, but Deputy Hunter found something inside that looks like witchcraft. That’s what the crime lab is now investigating.”

“Witchcraft? In this town? You can’t be serious.” Cinnamon couldn’t help but laugh. “How absurd! Everyone is so Baptist!”

“I’m very serious, Miss Lambert. You should be too. Your Little Joe ties you to the scene. And that my dear young lady is no laughing matter.”

WC=6434

Chapter 9

Delbert Dixon hated being on the bottom of the crime scene investigator totem pole. For the last few months, he had been dispatched to crime scenes the other investigators deemed unworthy of their time. He had just finished a 12-hour shift and was on the way to met Margie when his supervisor paged him. Now if you knew Margie, you would understand why Delbert was very irritated at having to drive over sixty miles to a dumpy town when a sweet thing waited for him, probably wearing those slinky pink panties that always got a rise out of him.

Delbert’s partner of late was Ron “Owl-Eyes” Hawkins, whose large unblinking orbs earned him his nickname. Hawkins was too old to work the scenes but too young to retire. The pair made quite a team, a young eager beaver and a rusty old codger. For the most part they had an understanding. Del did most of the evidence gathering, while Owl-Eyes made sure he didn’t screw up.

When they arrived on the scene, Owl-Eyes surprised Delbert with a sharp inhalation. “Dude, are you okay?” He asked, fearing that Hawkins was about to kill over dead.

The McHenry house was just at the point of being dilapidated enough not to have a condemned sign posted on it. But give it a few more years, and the town would have a wrecking crew tearing it down. The paint had peeled, leaving long gray streaks up and down the sides of the house, as if an invisible tiger had clawed it to death. The bushes and grass had grown up to hide much of the underbelly. They would have to be mindful of stepping on fire ants and other hidden non-treasures. Last week, Delbert stepped on a hornet’s nest and had to be rushed to the hospital. The police force always looked down on the lab technicians and never considered their jobs as dangerous as their own.

Owl-Eyes’ unflinching stare was glazed, his glassy eyes watering over the lower rims. “I hate this house. Always reminds me of death and decay. Don’t you smell the rot in the air? Its subtle but there, if you break in deep enough.”

“Don’t get morbid on me. Dude let’s get this over with. I’ve got a hottie in pink panties waiting on me.” Del wasn’t in the mood to delve into the working of Owl-Eyes’ psyche. He made a mental note to inquire about it on the drive home. Any conversation kept the drive from being so damn long. But even if he had the time, it wouldn’t have mattered. The sheriff appeared like magic beside them.

Sheriff Eckle was happy to see them. “You boys got here the fastest I’ve ever seen a team arrive. I bet you broke all the speed limits. Good job though. Maybe you can help us figure out what’s going on here, before the town burns a witch or two.”

Regaining his composure, Owl-Eyes laughed. “My young horny partner took some shortcuts, Sheriff. Leave it to a young stud to drive with his pecker.”

With a flaming face, Delbert retorted, “You’re just jealous that my pecker can stand alone and you can’t even remember what that feels like, old man.”

“Don’t confuse me with my pecker, boy. It may not be alert but that doesn’t mean I’m not. You better be thankful that I’m here to keep your dick from dragging through the crime scene. It’s all you have on your mind 99 % of the time.”

From the looks of it, a long debate of appendages was about to begin. Sheriff Eckle cleared his throat, breaking into Delbert’s snappy comeback before it left his lips. “Now boys, I’m not concerned about whose pecker is at attention. My concern is that both of you give this crime scene your complete attention right now.”

Both men laughed. Owl-Eyes smiled. “Lead the way, Sheriff.” Given a little time, Sheriff Eckle just might move out from under the old sheriff’s shadow and into his own light. As the men gathered their equipment, the crowd seemed to grow a shadow that loomed over them. It wasn’t menacing but it did hold potential.

Chapter 8

Sheriff Eckle was relieved to see the crime scene lab’s van pull into the driveway of the McHenry house ahead of schedule. He was uncomfortable around Cinnamon Lambert. His face prickled whenever the girl’s piercing eyes touched it. In them, he saw a wisdom that went beyond both their years.

He gave Deputy Hunter a pat on the back and said, “Take over.” He then sprinted over to the van to supervise the scene as the crime lab gathered evidence.

Deputy Hunter knew Todd fairly well and had seen the girl around but had never spoken to her. Rumors were that she wasn’t entirely warm to any masculine overtures. But something about the way she leaned into Todd’s protective embrace suggested she wasn’t as icy as the local youthful testosterone population implied.

He pulled a worn black notebook from the front pocket of his shirt. Flipping to a fresh page, he smiled at Cinnamon. “Miss Lambert, I need to ask you a few questions.”

Todd spoke in sotto voce, “Deputy, could you ask your questions away from probing eyes?” He nodded towards the gallery of onlookers. “Many of them were agreeing with Roman Ouellette.”

Glancing around, Deputy Hunter noted that Ward and the other deputies were having a tough time with crowd control. “Good ideal, Todd. Miss Lambert, you should go home now. I’ll be over later to ask some routine questions regarding the McHenry house.”

“Its crazy to think she or her mom have anything to do with whatever happened.” Todd spoke vehemently, angry to think how Roman had almost turned the crowd on Cinnamon.

“We’re not focusing on them. The department is asking all the residents of the neighborhood these questions.”

Cinnamon’s silence was uncannily unnatural. Deputy Hunter felt she most likely had something to say on all subjects. He wondered what had her absolute attention. Following her gaze, he saw that Sheriff Eckle and some of the crime lab guys were examining the rag doll. “Miss Lambert, did you hear…”

Ignoring both men, she said, “That looks like Little Joe.” Cinnamon broke away from Todd’s embrace and hurried over to where the sheriff stood.

“Little who?” Both men spoke at once.

“Cinnamon, wait.” Todd shouted as she crossed under the yellow police tape. He looked at Deputy Hunter, as he stuffed his notebook back into his pocket with a sigh, muttering, “Women!” Then to Todd he said, “Let’s go get her before she makes the Sheriff angry. He’s already wound up tight.”

Someone from the observant crowd shouted shrilly, “Sheriff, look out. The witch’s daughter is sneaking up on you. She’ll hex you and your deputies. Don’t look in her eyes. Someone grab her.” The crowded ebbed forward like the unrelenting tide of a destruction bent hurricane. They had been waiting for an opportunity to break the monopoly of watching from the sidelines.

Sheriff Eckle recognized hysteria when he saw it. His deputies struggled to keep the group back, as one lady grabbed the Lambert girl’s arm, causing her to cry out in pain. Her boyfriend and Hunter were trying to keep her from being torn apart by the mob. In a voice that some would later say was reminiscent of Sheriff Brown, Eckle shouted, “That’s enough. Everyone not directly involved with this investigation is to go about your business now, or my deputies will arrest you for obstruction. Deputy Hunter, get the riot gear ready.”

The last directive proved unnecessary, disappointing the deputy once again, as the disgruntled crowd dispersed.

(WC= 5,006)

Chapter 7

Not many people cared for Roman Ouellette because he was a ribald cantankerous middle-aged man, who ran the town’s sanitation department. The ongoing theory about his quirky personality was that he spent most his time cleaning up everyone’s crap that it had rubbed off on him, producing a difficult man who didn’t put up with anyone’s crap.

What pissed him off today was the crowd in front of the McHenry house—they were making a mess in the street with their cigarette butts, empty soda bottles and other debris that was carelessly tossed aside. No one thought of who kept the streets clean or who picked up their garbage. He was a misunderstood and under appreciated man. If only the town realized how much of their garbage was now his treasures, they might fear him just a tad. Who thinks about what they’re tossing into their garbage cans? He found many interesting items, such as receipts to motel rooms where a dalliance with a neighbor’s wife can cost up to $40 for a few hours, empty liquor bottles that discredit the chairperson of the local MADD chapter and his favorite, discarded poetic attempts from the high school principal to a sweet little thing that works at Bucko’s diner. Yes, Roman Ouellette with his balding hair and permanent sneer knew plenty about the sleepy town.

It was no surprise to him to hear that there had been some witchy hoodooing in the abandoned McHenry house. If anyone used their brains, they would find that the front door to the place pointed straight at the perpetrators, the hippy woman and her snotty know-it-all daughter who lived across the street.

Roman was in the heart of a heated battle with the daughter when the sheriff interrupted. “What’s going on here, Roman?”

“Ask the witch’s daughter, Sheriff. She knows what went on in the McHenry house.” Roman spat on the ground close to where Cinnamon stood, adding his touch to the littered area.

“I’m not a witch’s daughter. If you continue to slander my mother and me, we will see an attorney, Mr. Ouellette.” Cinnamon ignored the sheriff. She had heard stories of his inept bumbling of local crimes. From what she had heard, he was nowhere near the investigator that Sheriff Brown had been “That’s enough. Both of you.” Sheriff Eckle gave both parties a hard look. “What makes you think that…what’s your name, honey?”

“Cinnamon Lambert. There’s no honey attached to it.” Next to people who didn’t use dictionaries, she hated people who used endearments loosely.

The Sheriff groaned inwardly. He disliked frigid women. This girl gave off more ice than his last ex-wife. He doubted the girl had anything to do with witchcraft. If she did he had the feeling he have been turned into a toad after calling her honey. “What makes you think that Miss Lambert is a witch’s daughter, Roman?”

“I see what goes on at their house. Her mother dances in the back yard at night. They always have strange smells coming from their house.” His face was tomato red as he worked himself up, littering the air with his loathing.

“Now Roman. That’s all hearsay. You can’t pin a label on the house without proper proof. I don’t want to hear you say that this young lady or her mother is a witch. It stops right here.”

“ I’m just a concerned citizen, expressing my opinion. There is such a thing as free speech. Why if Sheriff Br…”

“Roman, that’s enough. You heard the Sheriff.” Deputy Hunter had stood by quietly, watching the uneasy crowd. All it took was someone as irrational as Roman Ouellette to make a suggestion into an issue. They had enough on their hands right now trying to figure out what the hell went on in that house. Roman walked back to his garbage truck, tossing a scoff at Cinnamon over his shoulder. He would get that bitch one day.

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