The Witches’ Bane
by Edward Ahern
Chapter 14: Meeting Maureen
Brenda was talking with another woman at the concierge desk — thirtyish, long black hair, a scattering of pockmarks across her cheeks... Blind hog luck, Gordon thought.
“Hi, Brenda, who’s this?”
“Hi, Gordon. Gordon Lormor, Maureen Curtis; Maureen, Gordon.”
Maureen nodded and scuttled away. She might be a bad-assed witch, but she was a poor actress, her fear and dislike swirling her facial muscles.
Brenda, however, had a wide-open smile. She leaned toward Gordon as she talked. “Here’s Judy’s laptop and the note. I fired it up, but it seems to be password-protected. Do you know how to get into it?”
“Not sure. If she meant for me to open up the files, she’d have used one of the phrases that we kept private between us. I’ll try to get into it tonight or tomorrow. Was there anything else in the locker?”
“Just an antique book on magic by a guy named Crowley. Here it is. Judy’d written notes on a lot of the pages, as if she was trying to decipher the wording, although it’s already in English.”
“Crowley was known for being cute about his meanings, hiding the true path of a magical ritual. If you don’t mind, I’ll borrow that, too.”
“Sure. Do you want to work on it here? I could have Maureen bring us some tea.”
“Tea has been kind of off-putting for me lately. Could I interest you in an early dinner?”
Brenda paused. “Why not? Maureen can cover the store. Barre Essentials again?”
“I’m temporarily on a vegetarian diet. I noticed an Indian restaurant on the way in, ‘Bangalore.’ It doesn’t have to be spicy.”
“I like spicy well enough. Let’s go.”
Gordon opened Brenda’s passenger side door and shut it behind her, then opened up the door behind her, pulled up the seat base, opened a flat safe, and dropped Judy’s laptop on top of his own.
Brenda had craned her neck to watch. “That’s pretty sturdy-looking.”
“You’d need a blowtorch and a lot of time to pull it out.”
Dinner had that first-date feeling. They sensed they liked each other, and that each was available.
“So what were you before you became a book-monger, Brenda?”
She smiled wryly. “During my married period, I wanted to achieve mistress-of-the-universe status. I was fast-tracked at a hedge fund and already middling rich.”
“What happened?”
“My boy-toy took most of what I’d built up and left with his slutty girlfriend. The money wave I was surfing on took an extra curl and wiped me out. I had just enough to buy the building I’m in and rent out the second floor.”
Gordon laughed. “You’ve practiced that line.”
Brenda laughed back. “Frequently. My consolation is that she dumped him once she’d cleaned him out of money and cocaine.”
Gordon applied a touch of psychic braking. Celibacy was an unfortunate prerequisite for what he needed to accomplish. And besides, he had a chore to do after dinner.
“Brenda, I’d really like to get together again. Once I’ve sorted out the laptop and book, could we get together for a proper dinner?”
Brenda almost succeeded in hiding her disappointment. “Sure, I’d like that.”
Gordon drove her back to the bookstore. Judy’s memory sat like a specter between them, making a kiss impossible, but Gordon reached over and gently stroked Brenda’s freckled cheek. “Until next time.”
He escorted Brenda back into the store. On the way, he discreetly applied a few drops of holy water to his right palm. Gordon walked over to Maureen Curtis and stuck out his hand. “Goodbye, Maureen, it was good to meet you.”
As the two palms clasped, Maureen choked back a shriek and yanked her hand out of his grasp. There was a faint wisp of smoke. “Get out!” she hissed.
He drove to a nearby hardware store, purchased several items with cash, then doubled back and parked about a block away from the bookstore. The Xterra made a rotten surveillance vehicle, and he had to be out of immediate sight. He took out a compact pair of binoculars and waited for the store to close. While he waited, he called AJ.
“Ah, the sacrificial lamb is still bleating.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become your ladylike image, AJ. What’ve you learned?”
“The three-hundred-year old witch, one Hester Waltrout, died by drowning at Cold Spring Pond, which is now an overgrown swamp in the Watchaug State Forest about fifteen gravel road miles from Big Eddy. I’ve sent you coordinates. No ID yet on the blood in the curse painted on your car. But you can read all about this stuff. What kind of toilet flush are you swirling around in?”
“I just went through the purification rituals and am about to make my first sales call.”
“You semenated idiot, nobody can safely handle an intervention on their own.”
“Done it before, AJ. I need an alibi of some sort. I left my computer on. Can you still get into it remotely?”
“Yeah. What kind of an emailing should we be doing?”
“What about inventory discrepancies? That should be innocuous.”
“I’m starting now.”
The lights began to go off in the bookstore. “Gotta go, AJ.”
“Call me when it’s over or I’m coming up.”
“Nag, nag.” Gordon shut off his phone.
Maureen left before Brenda, and Gordon followed her at a long distance. He prepared himself for the unpleasantness to come.
Copyright © 2018 by Edward Ahern
