Witch One Dunnit? (Rachael Penzra mystery) (35 page)

To top it off, he was planning to use the insanity plea. Personally, I didn’t think it was going to fly for a variety of reasons, but the main one was his son Ronnie didn’t believe it for a minute, and was in the process of making the first truly mature decision in his life. He was going to allow his father to get what was coming to him.

Poor Ronnie. I was going to have to bake him some cookies.

And I never did decide whether or not my psychic powers had actually called forth help. It was as irritating as it was frustrating. That final evening, when I’d really set my mind to it, I’d had the clearest sense of an evil mind I could get.
A
nd it still hadn’t given me the one answer I’d needed: the
who
part. So when I’d tried to call for help, had it actually worked?

Had
I
called my rescuers?

Aunt Josie?

Did it matter?

No, I thought. It didn’t matter. It was over and done, and my life would return to normal. Whatever that was.

....

Several days later I was doing some light dusting upstairs and noticed that my certificate was askew. I straightened it, noting again its curlicues and flourishes. I smiled. I thought of Aunt Josie. I chuckled. I lifted the frame off the wall and danced around the room with it, laughing happily, ignoring my still sore side.

“Merry Meet, Aunt Josie! Merry Meet!” I paused and made a bow to the empty room. “And Merry Part, Merry part....”