LITMIR.BIZ

      “Monica’s gone to get the boys from school,” the gray-haired woman said, watching Elizabeth with sharp, intelligent eyes. “She left the keys and the forms for you to sign. I can take care of it if you’ll give me your license.”

      Elizabeth put her license and credit card on the counter—her real ones, now recovered at long last—and waved at Antonia through the open door. If she had fridge buying to do, no point in waiting, and besides, on her own, Elizabeth might find inclined to chat a bit.

      “You must be Ida Collins.”

      The woman looked up from studying the license, raised a gray eyebrow, and nodded. “I am. This was my son’s business. I help my daughter-in-law with it now. American, aren’t you?” Elizabeth agreed, she was. “You bought Orchard House?”

      “No, my employer did. I’m just going to be working down here, so I’ll need a car.”

      “Is your employer American?”

      “Antonia? No, she’s British.” No need to say just how ancient a Briton she was.

      Ida copied down the license number. “After the previous owner, I wondered. She was American, you know?”

      “I do. It was through Dixie that I learned about the house being on the market.”

      “I wish your employer better luck than the last owner.” Ida pushed the license back across the counter. Elizabeth closed her hand over the plastic rectangle and hesitated, hoping Ida would say more.

      She didn’t.

      “Dixie didn’t talk much about Bringham. Said just that she’d inherited the house from distant relatives and they sounded like local characters.”

      “Characters!” Ida almost spat it out. “Nasty, tightfisted, spiteful old bisoms they were.” She paused as if about to say more. Elizabeth waited, but Ida had gone silent.

      “Dixie mentioned finding books on herb lore and Wicca in the house.”

      As a conversational probe, that wasn’t much help. Ida nodded. “Those two were always up to something.”

      “And according to Dixie, they blatantly ignored the Reede to do harm to none.” That earned her a sharp look, but nothing more. Ida just finished filling in the forms and reached over to a hook for a set of keys. “My stepmother is a practicing Wiccan. She taught me a fair bit, and I wondered if there’s anyone around who practices the old ways.”

      The keys jangled as Ida slapped them on the countertop. “You’re new here. If you’re planning on staying around a bit, don’t mention witches, Wiccans, or whatever you call them to anyone. No one wants to hear anything about that. Not now!” She turned the paper around so it faced Elizabeth. “Sign here and here and initial those three boxes. You’ve got the car for a month. If you want it longer, let us know.”

      She’d been fishing for a response and certainly caught one. Interesting. “Thanks.”

      Ida separated the back copy and handed it to Elizabeth with the key. “The car’s the red one. Fred’ll show you.” She called behind the service center, “Fred, customer’s ready for the red Fiat.”

      “Thanks,” Elizabeth said. “Sorry if I offended you.”

      Ida acknowledged the attempt at conciliation. “You weren’t to know. I doubt Dixie told you all that happened here. Come to that, she couldn’t. Half the trouble was after she left, and I don’t blame her running off the way she did. Must have scared the willies out of her. Someone tried to kill her.”

      And finally succeeded, but that was by the way. “How terrible! What happened?” Tom and Dixie between them had told her everything, but Ida’s slant on it might be illuminating.

      “The bastard got my only son instead. That’s why I’m working here. I moved back to Bringham to help out Monica. She wanted to keep the business going for her sons, but it’s too much on her own, and that useless mechanic…” she paused. “Fred! Customer’s waiting for the Fiat!” For a septuagenarian, Ida still had fine voice projection.

      “Coming!” a voice called from outside.

      “Thanks,” Elizabeth said to Ida. “Sorry again if I said the wrong thing.” Ida smiled and waved it off, and Elizabeth went out into the June sunshine with Fred.

      The car was a zippy little compact with a hatchback that might well come in handy. After listening patiently to Fred demonstrating windshield wipers and automatic windows, Elizabeth drove off. Following Fred’s sketchy directions, she headed back toward Bringham.