Part 8 (1/2)
Bonnie squinted at the woman. ”What?”
”You asked what was going on here tonight. The witchy festival is called Beltane, the celebration of Spring's fertility.”
Bonnie wasn't ready to let go of her anger. ”I didn't ask. I said I was sorry for disturbing your festival, that's all. I don't give a furry rat's behind what you call it.”
”You're angry.”
Bonnie tried to stand. Her ankle shrieked in protest. She gave up the effort, panting in frustration. ”d.a.m.n right, I'm angry. I come to you for help, and you sit there in your tattooed birthday suit and laugh at me.”
”I was sad because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.”
”Are you, by any chance, on drugs?”
Rhiannon laughed again. ”Thank you, G.o.ddess. One lesson after another. No, Missus Pinkwater, I am not on drugs. Not since nineteen eighty-nine. And I wasn't laughing at you.”
Bonnie lost her grip on her indignation. It was just too d.a.m.n difficult to be angry with someone who might be mentally unbalanced. ”Then what?”
Rhiannon removed the tiara from her hair and set it on the ground between them. ”We had a break-in earlier this evening. My spirit wasn't right for honoring the G.o.ddess. To tell the truth, I was p.i.s.sed off. We've also had a number of rednecks coming around to gawk at the witches. I guess I was feeling sorry for myself until you told me about your evening.”
”So, it sucks so much being me that I made you feel better about being you?” Bonnie picked up the tiara and placed it on her own head. ”Glad to be of service.”
Rhiannon scooted forward. She eyed the tiara and straightened it with a nudge. ”Not bad. I wish I had a mirror.”
Bonnie looked up at a sound from beyond the dying fire. ”We have company.”
Wearing a white terrycloth robe and Birkenstock sandals, Winston strode into the firelight. He car-ried another white robe in one hand and a silver cell phone in the other. A half-dozen people, including Ali Griffith, followed in his wake.
Thank G.o.d none of them are nude.
A purple robe covered Ali from her neck to the tops of her bare feet. White baby's-breath was woven into her hair. Henna, in patterns that matched Rhiannon's, decorated her hands and feet. Ali hoisted her robe and knelt in the sand.
”Missus Pinkwater, are you all right?” She offered Bonnie a blue-gel ice-pack.
Bonnie took the pack and catalogued the elements of her evening that separated her from being all right then set them aside. ”I'm getting better, sweetie.” She laid the ice-pack against her aching head.
Winston tossed the robe to Rhiannon and handed the cell phone to Bonnie.
She flipped open the phone, ready to make a call, then cupped the receiver as if the connection was live. ”Can anyone tell me the time?”
A white-haired woman, who looked like she should be playing mah jong rather than attending a witch's celebration, came into the firelight. ”Look on the phone, dear.”
Ten-thirty. Bonnie reddened. She knew d.a.m.n well time was displayed on cell phones. She owned one, for pity's sake. I'm more screwed up than I first thought. I'm more screwed up than I first thought. Normally, she never would have forgotten it. Normally, she never would have forgotten it.
Bonnie nodded to the older woman. ”Thank you.” She'd have to call Franklin at home.
He picked up on the second ring. ”Yo, it's your dime.” He sounded sleepy.
Bonnie pushed aside her guilt for waking Franklin. ”It's your favorite math teacher.”
He groaned. ”What time is it?”
”I have it on the best of authority it's past ten. A young man like you shouldn't be sitting at home at ten o'clock on a Friday night, anyway.”
”Then how could I be here to take your fascinat-ing late night calls? You know my only wish is to wait upon your pleasure.” He sighed. ”What can I do for you, Missus P?”
She drew a deep breath. All right, try not to sound like a crybaby. All right, try not to sound like a crybaby. ”Jesse Poole tried to kill me.” ”Jesse Poole tried to kill me.”
He hesitated, then said, ”You got my attention. Tell me everything.”
She told him everything.
”This is screwy,” Franklin said. ”What is Jesse Poole doing off road in the middle of the night? And why would he want to kill you?”
Bonnie felt her anger grow through the telling, and now Franklin questioned her integrity. ”I know what I saw, G.o.d d.a.m.n it. How am I supposed to know why that little s.h.i.+t does what he does?”
”Settle down, Missus P.”
Her throat contracted. Hot tears welled in her eyes. ”Settle down yourself, youngster. He toyed with me, like a cat with a mouse. I don't appreciate being made into a victim.” What she couldn't bring herself to say was that Jesse Poole made her feel like a foolish old woman. And that that she couldn't forgive. she couldn't forgive.
Ali touched her arm. ”Can I talk to the policeman?”
d.a.m.n, I cursed in front of a student and her mother. Bonnie stared at the girl. ”Ali, I need-” Bonnie stared at the girl. ”Ali, I need-”
”Jesse was here earlier this evening.”
She handed Ali the phone.
Carefully, the girl pulled flower-woven hair away from her ear. ”Officer, this is Ali Griffith. Jesse Poole broke into our house this evening.”
Rhiannon Griffith had donned the white terrycloth robe. She stood several feet away smoking a cigarette and huddling with the members of her coven.
”Jesse Poole was here?” Bonnie asked, trying not to shout.
Six faces, including Rhiannon's, turned her way. All nodded in agreement.
”It's not the first time the little miscreant's come around here.” Winston's deep-set eyes glowed red in the reflected firelight. ”Rhiannon's had to chase him off more than once.”
Rhiannon took a long pull on her cigarette. ”But this is the first time he's been criminal about it. Up until now I've chalked up his trespa.s.sing to curiosity. But breaking in . . .” She blew out the smoke, looking disgusted.
”What happened?”
The older woman waved away the smoke. ”Ali was the one who actually saw the truck. We were all stacking wood for the balefire when she heard a noise. She ran. She said someone slammed the back door of the house then jumped into a red pickup. It sped away down the frontage road.” Her hand shook as she pointed off into the gloom.
”Did you call the police?”
Rhiannon shook her head. ”We went through the house but couldn't find anything missing, or even disturbed. We had already started to decorate the five-petal altar. He could easily have vandalized that, but he didn't.”
”Missus Pinkwater.” Ali held out the phone. ”The policeman wants to talk with you again.”
Bonnie put the phone to her ear. ”What do we do now?”