Hexes and Hemlines: A Witchcraft Mystery
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Lily gets called away from her vintage clothing store to give police a witch's take on how the leader of a rationalist society could be murdered, surrounded by superstitions he discredited.
Evidence points to dark witchcraft. Lily's determined to use magic of her own to find the murderer, before everyone's luck runs out.
would help explain the strange lack of vibrations from his garment collection, as well as the whole apartment seemingly wiped down for psychic prints. On the other hand, Claudia mentioned seeing the write-up of Aunt Cora’s Closet in the Art Deco newsletter. So maybe it was just that simple. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a whole lot of “simple” in my life. “Poor Claudia,” said Maya as she changed the paper roll on the register. “You’re still planning on going to the dance, though, right? Even if
are?” He pointed at faces as he listed them off. “That’s Malachi Zazi there, Ellen Chambers, and Gregory Petrovic, Nichol Huffman, and that must be her brother, Oliver, though he’s turned away from the camera—they’re children of Senator Huffman—and this is Mike Perkins, of course.” “I understand Perkins is a pharmaceutical giant.” “That’s an understatement. Haven’t heard of him having any bad luck, but Petrovic’s not doing all that well, and the Huffmans are all screwed up. Ellen Chambers is
rescued. If there’s any rescuing to be done I’ll do it myself, thank you very much.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flutter of drapes. Someone was looking down at us from a second-story window. I raised a hand in greeting. A buzzer sounded, and I unlatched the gate. Max stayed close on my heels. Apparently I had swapped one bodyguard for another. The gate clanged shut behind us. The cement walkway was cracked and studded with weeds; the wooden porch steps were rotting, the boards sagging
of your body cross the threshold, and make sure none of your animals do, either. I have to run to my place for supplies, but I’ll be right back. Are you expecting anyone?” She shook her head. “Good. But if you hear anyone come in, warn them to stay downstairs.” Keeping my eyes on the bundle, I started to back down the stairs. “Or better yet, have them wait outside. In the meanwhile, make yourself some tea.” “What kind?” she asked, eyes huge. I smiled. “It doesn’t really matter. It’s just to
easier back in the old days, the burning times. Back then, witches’ familiars often spied on people—a cat could wander through a village, even in and out of homes, and come back to inform on the populace. But in our urban existence, things had changed. Then again, even if Oscar were a cat, I imagined Sailor would have recognized him anyway. Guess I would have to take my chances. On the way to Sailor’s apartment, I tried to think up a story in case I found him at home. I wanted company, I