After the abuse Emily and Josef had dealt Adam, we made a pact to ensure he could never be snatched from us again. Oliver knew only enough about our spell to allow him both a case for plausible deniability and the ability to sleep at night.
“How was your ‘meeting’?” Iris asked.
“Well, let’s see, I sit down and say ‘Hi, I’m Ellen. I’m an alcoholic. And a witch.’ There’s a moment of dead silence, then someone inevitably says, ‘Keep coming back.’?” In spite of her sarcasm, I could tell she was doing better. She glowed with health, and a bit of her old spark had returned to her lovely blue eyes. She brushed aside her blonde bangs and smiled at me.
“You discuss magic?” Iris asked with muted horror in her voice.
“?‘You’re only as sick as your secrets,’?” she quoted brightly, but then her tone fell flat. “At first I tried speaking in veiled terms, but it was too exhausting. Then I realized most everyone there was caught up in their own thoughts anyway. The ones who do listen are convinced I am crazier than . . . well, than I don’t know what.”
“But it’s helping you?” Iris pressed.
“Yeah.” Ellen nodded. “I think it is.”
“Then you share whatever you want.” Iris fetched the teakettle from the stove and filled it at the sink. “I think it will do some of these folk around here good to know the types of difficulties we Taylors face daily. Might even change a few people’s opinions about us.” She lit the burner and set the kettle on the flame.
“I think I’m beyond caring what anyone thinks about us. I am tired of being judged. I am tired of watching our neighbors grab their children and scurry away like frightened mice every time I say good morning.”
“Now, Ellen, you know you are exaggerating. They don’t behave that poorly toward us.” Iris folded her arms and smiled. I agreed wi
th Iris that our neighbors were never impolite, but there were many subtle bits of evidence that Ellen’s feelings were not unfounded. Her new flower shop was doing well, but most of her orders were destined for hospital delivery, not weddings. Was it actual talk of Ellen’s power to heal or merely intuition that led people to send her bouquets to the broken and ill, but not to mark an anniversary? People had always found witches to be useful, as long as we maintained a comfortable distance. Since I had gained my powers, I myself had noticed a remarkable change in the way the non-witches treated me. Even those with whom I had been closest had begun to draw back.
“Well, no, but if I yelled ‘boo’—” Ellen stopped as her focus fell onto the pendulum I still held. “Where in the hell did that come from?” She took note of the map. “What is going on?”
“Have a seat,” Iris said. I laid the pendulum down on the map, feeling somehow guilty for having been caught with it in hand.
Ellen shrugged and sighed. “This day just will not stop.” She pulled out a chair across the table from me and sat. “What is it now?”
Iris and I looked at each other, silently debating which of us would update Ellen. “The map,” I said, taking the coward’s approach to the problem. After Paul’s death, Ellen had used Wren almost as a surrogate, wasting the fruit of her maternal instincts on the false child. I’d start with the latest news about the murder and figure out a graceful way to bring up Wren in the seconds that bought me, at least I hoped.
“Wow, it must be bad if you are trying to start there.” Ellen pointed at the pendulum. “Let’s hear about that first. I thought it disappeared during the fire at Ginny’s.”
I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. My life had become far too sedentary for my liking. Especially at the current moment. Ellen continued staring at me, so I dove in. “Wren’s back.”
Ellen closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “Then I haven’t been hallucinating.” She opened her eyes. “I thought I saw the little bastard lurking. I caught glances of him a few times out of the corner of my eye. I set fire to a ficus trying to hit him.” She folded her hands on the table. “You got the pendulum off him?”
I nodded. “He passed it on to me with the message that Adam should use it.”
Her hair fell at an angle as she tilted her head. She smiled. “Was that the bad part? The part I needed to sit down for?”
“Well, yes, kind of . . .”
“We have reason to believe he is involved in the murder Adam has been investigating.”
Ellen turned her face toward her sister. “It is officially a murder, then?” The kettle chose that very instant to cry out, and I jumped a little.
Iris turned off the burner. “We don’t know the details. Adam was just heading to the scene when you arrived, but a headless torso was left at the Cotton Exchange fountain.”
“Lovely,” Ellen said and turned to me. “That image will about ruin Old Rex for me forever.” When Maisie and I were kids, we had dubbed the fountain’s lion “Old Rex.” I knew what she meant. Yet another happy memory tainted.
I watched as Iris scalded the teapot and started the brew. Ellen caught my attention by tapping on the map with her nail. “These marks. They’re where the parts have been discovered?” I nodded. “What about the lines drawn between them?”
“Adam was looking for some kind of pattern in their placement,” Iris responded for me. “He thought he’d discovered an occult symbol or something.”
“Bless his heart,” Ellen said reflexively. “I suspect he’s correct in thinking there is a hidden meaning in this, even if he’s naïve about what the message should look like.”
“What do you mean?” I leaned back over the map, taking another look at the points where marks had been made.
“You’re the tour guide in the family.” Ellen pointed at the X Adam had put on Hutchinson Island. “Let’s start there. A foot was found there, right?” she asked Iris, and Iris nodded her response. “What is significant about Hutchinson?”