CHAPTER FOUR

The funeral was surprisingly well-attended by some thirty witches, which was almost the entire witch population of Oyster Cove. Lilith herself hovered nearby, which was to be expected. A handful of attendees were keenly aware her presence. It was not such an unusual thing to be able to see ghosts. Much rarer was the ability to hear them. Many who did not have this ability counted themselves lucky. Who wanted to spend their time talking to unhappy ghosts? And if a ghost is hanging around, they’re probably unhappy.

Delphine was not so lucky. Lilith made a beeline for her.

“Delphine Sykes. I call on your assistance.”

“Lilith. I can’t tell you how . . . how shocked we all were to find out . . . umm . . . assistance?”

“You have met this girl, Margo Bailey. My body lives on. My heart still beats. My powers are still there. Under the surface, but weak, dormant, untrained. You must teach her spells, tools, mind, emotion, and control. She will never have my full abilities, of course. But to even have a fraction of them is a seed that might grow to unimaginable size, given the right guidance.”

“But why do you care? Who is this girl to you? Unless I’m mistaken, she is a complete stranger. How can you benefit from this? And why are you still here?”

“Have you not wondered about my demise? I hope you’re not foolish enough to think that it was a natural accident. Dark forces were at work . . . an enemy I wasn’t even aware of. But I must know. I must find out who, and I must have my vengeance. I call on this favor from someone who owes me her life.”

“I?”

“The girl.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Lilith. She seems an unlikely candidate. There’s very little darkness in her. And I think she has certainly experienced enough trauma in her young life already.”

“What of your own life?” Lilith demanded. “There’s something out there powerful enough to have killed me. Surely, you can take an interest in that.”

Delphine couldn’t deny it. “Yes, that is something that poses a danger to all of us. Anyone who was able to kill you may strike any of us, at any time. Of course we need to know. But Margo Bailey doesn’t deserve to be in danger. And it will take some time, at any rate, for her to learn and accept what she is now. She is likely to be frightened. There’s no guarantee that she can handle it.”

“She will. You will see to that. Do not let me down, Delphine Sykes.”

At that moment, both of their attention was drawn to a new arrival to the funeral. It was Fiona Skretting, long regarded as the second-most powerful witch in Oyster Cove. Only now, she was indisputably the first. She stood at a distance from the other attendees and looked upon the proceedings with what could only be regarded as smug satisfaction. Delphine and Lilith regarded one another. Lilith bristled.

“I will try,” Delphine promised.

*****

Margo had returned to work almost immediately. Convalescence was unnecessary, and she was infused with health and energy, so why not? At the end of this particular evening, it occurred to her that she had the strength to take care of many of the things that she’d delegated before, for fear of exertion. Such as the garbage.

It had been a long time since she was in the back alley. As she was about to fling the garbage bags into the small dumpster, she heard a small screech near her foot. A beige and white tabby cat darted away.

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

She noticed the smell wafting from a bag of trash from The Clam Shack, smells that must have been irresistible to a feline.

“All right, all right, I’ll give you a hand.”

Hmmm. Margo had never given cats much thought. Dogs, on the other hand . . . she had wanted a dog since she was very young. But her great aunt wouldn’t hear of it. It was bad enough that she was raising two young girls at her advanced age. She certainly wasn’t going to add a dog to the mix.

Their neighbor had gotten himself a sweet little dog. Margo hadn’t even known what type of dog it was. Some mix that even Mr. Phillips wasn’t sure about, since it had been a rescue dog. A little terrier in it, for sure. It was a nice, manageable size—perfect for an eighty-two-year-old man who could pick him up, if necessary, and also not have to contend with a strong behemoth dragging him around the neighborhood.

But Margo admired them from a distance. After she was grown, she was so certain for a while that she would get one, but she got sidetracked by opening up the theater. And then, two years ago, Mr. Phillips died. Oh, how forlorn that dog had been. One of the neighbors volunteered to take him in for a while, but he was constantly jumping their fence or breaking away from its leash to stand on his old front porch and howl at the front door.

What heartache for the poor thing. First to endure his first bout of abandonment before his rescue. Then to lose the security and love he had found with Mr. Phillips. Margo so wanted to take him in and provide him with a warm, secure place to the end of his days. Except . . . she had had no assurance that he wouldn’t outlive her. How awful that would be for a poor dog who had already been through so much. To deal with the death and disappearance of yet another owner! She couldn’t do it to him.

So she watched with mixed feelings as an ad at the local café landed him a permanent home across town. Good for him. At the time, she also thought—good for her, too. Another important lesson learned. No long-term commitments. No deep attachments. No setting anyone up to be devastated by her departure. Not if it could be helped.

But now, all the old concerns and restrictions were falling away. She could get a dog if she wanted to. Too bad she wasn’t really interested in a cat. She carefully opened the garbage bag and pulled out a nice piece of fish.

“Here you go, buddy. You’ll like this.”

The cat paced before her nervously, sometimes advancing and snarling and then backing away, looking at her helplessly.

“What is your problem? This even looks good to me, and it’s garbage.”

Sighing, she got on her knees and held out the piece of fish. To her surprise, the cat came to her immediately and wolfed it out of her hands.

“That’s what I thought. Shall I see if we can find another one?” She stood up and the cat screeched again and ran away.

“This is why I never wanted a cat,” Margo said. “You’re crazy.”

She located another piece of fish, but again, the cat paced back and forth, moving forward and screeching at her and backing away. Weird. Again, she got on her knees, and the cat ran in to gulp down his second course. Margo stood again, to be met with more screeching.

It only took a few more repeats of the odd pattern of behavior for Margo to figure out the rhyme and reason behind it. Any time her foot came near him, the cat was terrified. When she reached for him with her hand for food, he was okay, and when she reached for him with her hand to pet him, he was okay, but coming too close to her foot put him on high alert. This cat had been kicked. So often, that human feet terrified him. How awful. He needed someone to be kind to him. And in that moment, Margo became a cat person. She found another small handful of food, gathered the cat tightly in her arms, and took a cab home.

*****

The newcomer gingerly explored his new surroundings. Their living room was a pillow and cushion filled shabby chic decor, which had no shortage of soft things for a feline to nestle on. Thankfully, there was no black furniture, or they’d have had to start vacuuming twice a day. Instead, the cat complemented the green and beige color scheme rather nicely.

Bette shook her head. “It’s a cat. It was supposed to be a dog. It was always all about the dog.”

“I know. But he shouldn’t be out on his own without anyone to take care of him. He’s so scared of everything.”

“That’s a good name for him—Scaredy-Cat.”

“Lovely. No, you are not going to call him Scaredy-Cat. He’s been through enough. I can’t think of a decent name though. You have to help me out.”

Bette looked off into the distance. She had quite a good imagination. Margo was sure she would nail it.

“Got it! New heart. New cat. Newhart. It’s a name! Perfect to celebrate all your new beginnings.”

“You mean Newheart. Is that with two Es?”

“No, you don’t want him to be a freak. Just regular old Newhart.”

It was fitting, Margo couldn’t deny. New cat. New life. Newhart.

*****

Margo had just left the veterinarian. He’d given Newhart a full checkup and a psychological screening. Being the victim of abuse and abandonment, Newhart was filled with insecurity. Margo would need to keep him close and provide constant reassurance. Even leaving him alone at home was probably not a good idea at this stage of his development. They really needed to bond.

So, it was with Newhart tucked in his cozy little carrier that Margo strolled down the boardwalk. A figure that she spotted several yards ahead made her come to a dead stop. It was Russell Knox, a face from her past that never failed to fill her with shame. She’d only seen him at a distance in the last few years, and before then, not since high school.

The day seared into her memory was of Russell being bullied by three larger kids as she was headed home from the library. They were from her eighth-grade cohort, with Russell being a year younger than the rest. Such moments were the worst thing about her old weak heart. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she were the only one to suffer from her limitations. But in that moment, she hadn’t had the strength or the courage to offer help when it was badly needed.

They were poking fun at his clothes, of all things. It appeared his crime was having pants that were too short and a little too tight. Margo had suspected that this particular fashion crime owed more to pinched financial resources than to lack of fashion acumen. But those oafs hadn’t cared. They seemed delighted to stumble across something worthy of their scorn.

When Margo saw the pushing and shoving begin, she had felt her heart begin yet another alarming escalation. It had only been about one year since her doctor had made his frightening prognosis and laid down the law about taking it easy. The thought of stepping closer to intervene only resulted in deathly fight or flight palpitations.

Why did Russell have to catch her eye as she scurried past? His eyes were filled with fear and anger. Anger at Margo, as well as at his tormentors, for not having the courage to stop and help. She had played that day over and over in her mind so many times. What a useless creature her heart had made her.

After high school, Russell disappeared. College, no doubt. He had come back two years ago with a girlfriend. He opened up a tapas restaurant, Barcelona, the only one of its kind in town. Apparently, it was a roaring success. Margo was glad for him. Everything seemed to be working out great for him despite a bullied youth.

She still carried such regrets from that day. And she so wanted to speak to him. Did he resent her? Had he forgiven her? She had never really forgiven herself. If she could just talk to him . . . perhaps she could get some kind of closure, if nothing else.

As she approached, she could see that Russell had turned into a fine, handsome young man—she was going to go with . . . Ewan McGregor. As she came within ten yards of him, she was startled by a black-and-white police car rushing to his side. Two police officers leapt out, flashed their badges, and proceeded to handcuff him.

As Margo cautiously crept closer, she could hear Russell being read his rights.

“Do you understand these rights as I’ve read them to you?”

Russell nodded in a daze. Again, he locked eyes with Margo. His face was filled with panic and confusion. They pushed him down into their car and zoomed away. The feeling of helplessness that descended on Margo was so unbearable, she shoved it away with as much force as she could. Russell Knox was in terrible, terrible trouble. This time, she had to do something about it.

*****

A man had been murdered in Russell Knox’s restaurant. Poisoned, actually. Margo heard all the details from her business neighbor, Clarissa of The Clam Shack.

“I know this guy’s brother. Walter, he’s my accountant. Geez, this is unbelievable. I’ve actually eaten at that restaurant. Though I suppose nothing would have happened to me.”

“You mean, you’ve never gotten food poisoning?” Margo wondered.

“It wasn’t food poisoning. It was poisoning, poisoning put deliberately into the dead guy’s food. This isn’t negligence. He’s up for first-degree murder.”

That was insane. Although Margo didn’t know Russell well, she still had such a feel for his general decency, even from a distance. It just didn’t ring true with everything else that she’d heard about him. How could he be a cold-blooded murderer?

It’s true that he hadn’t had a very good childhood. He was poor. He was bullied. Had he been bullied so many years that he was filled with repressed rage? And oh, dear, could Margo have changed the course of his life by showing more courage on that critical day, so long ago?

*****

Two days later, Margo couldn’t sit still any longer. Even though they had no real connection and had never had a friendship, she had to speak to Russell. She went to the police station, which also contained the local jail, and was relieved that they could accommodate her with a visit on the spot. Looking around the station, she spotted a decidedly new face. At a glance, she would say a young Mark Ruffalo. Where’d he come from?

Margo was seated in a low security visitors’ room, and she waited nervously for Russell to enter. The look on his face was of pleasant bewilderment.

“Wow! This is a surprise. I mean super, super surprised. Margo Bailey. Hey, you know something? I just heard last week about your new heart. That’s terrific. It really is. I’m so glad for you. I really am.”

Margo’s eyes filled with tears. This was not the first thing she expected to hear from Russell. He was in such horrible trouble and had all the reason in the world to resent her, hold a grudge. But her good news had momentarily transported him away from his own troubled situation.

“Russell, please tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.”

“Four days ago, a man died in my restaurant. It just looked like a tragic allergic reaction, you know—vomiting, seizure, coma. He died soon after he got to the hospital. Of course, everyone suspected food poisoning, but that’s really not how food poisoning works. Anyway, they found traces of arsenic on my coat. And here’s the insane thing . . . a bottle of arsenic in my car. Someone put a freakin’ bottle of arsenic in my car to make it look like I did this.”

“Who? Who would have done such a thing? Margo marveled.

“You don’t believe that—”

“No, of course not. It just sounds—”

“I know how it sounds.”

“The man who was killed . . . who was he? Did you know him?”

“His name was Julian Meeks, just a summer resident. I had never seen the guy before in my life. First time at the restaurant. His whole family was there. What a horrible thing for them to see, right?”

‘Mark Ruffalo’ was at the door. “You have another visitor.”

Margo pushed her chair back. “I should leave.”

“Stay. Please.”

In came Walter Knox, brother and accountant, with a computer tucked under his arm.

“Oh, I’m not your guest. Grandpa is your guest. I’m going to Skype him in. You just helped push him a few feet closer to his grave, which I’m sure suits you just fine.” Walter turned to Margo. “Junior, here, is the sole beneficiary of my grandpa’s estate. How d’ya like that? Nothing for me. Everything going to him.”

“That was Grandpa’s decision. He knew you’d gamble it all away, Walter. That’s on you. And you know he’s right.”

Walter proceeded to set up the Skype. “So the prodigal grandson has been doing everything he can to get our grandpa off life support equipment so that he can get his hands on that money.”

“That is such garbage! Grandpa is either in a doped up stupor with his meds or he’s in horrible pain.”

“Here we go. Time for a little karma. Hey, Grandpa. I have Russell here for you.” He turned the computer in Russell’s direction. Margo heard the weak, angry voice of an elderly man.

“You’ve brought the worst shame to our family, Russell. I never want to lay eyes on you again. I’ve had my lawyer take you out of the will. Everything’s going to Walter. You hear that? You’re not going to be rewarded for murder. I just wish I hadn’t lived long enough to see this day. I need my pills. Where are my pills? I need to sleep. I can’t think about this anymore.”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it! Grandpa, you’ve gotta believe me.”

Walter snapped the computer shut. “I don’t need to see you again either. If you’re waiting for bail, don’t hold your breath.”

Russell and Margo exchanged an agonized look.

‘Mark Ruffalo’ appeared at the door. “Ma’am, it’s time to leave.”

As Margo rose to her feet, it dawned on her that for over a week now, she’d been floating on air with the joy and promise of new life and new hope. And here was someone whose life was crashing to an end. It was unbearably unfair. With old, ugly feelings of helplessness descending on her, she stumbled away.