Chapter 60
After all the fuss at the Halloween party, the scrapbookers plus Beatrice got together in Vera’s basement. They moved a bunch of furniture around and created a circular space in which to hold the Halloween ritual.
The women gathered around. Cookie stood next to a decorated table. She was dressed in the same blue dress she had worn the first time they held the ritual. It was made of a deep blue velvet with large, flowing sleeves and hemline. Annie’s stomach tightened as she remembered the night that Cookie first wore it—the night she was arrested for murder based on some flimsy evidence that had never added up and a botched investigation that never made sense.
Paige was in charge. She and Cookie had come up with the ritual based on what Paige remembered and by looking over some books on Wicca. Each one of them had brought pictures of people they had lost. The photos of deceased people adorned the table, along with a huge seashell, a statue of Mary, candles, a wooden bowl of water, flowers, and silk scarves.
Once again, Annie was struck that although each item on the table was not usually pretty by itself, gathered together they had a simple beauty. “This reminds me of the Day of the Dead celebration over at the Drummond place last night.”
Cookie smiled. “So many cultures have similar celebrations and rituals.”
Annie reached for Cookie’s hand. “I remember the first time we did this like it was yesterday. You said something about women have been meeting like this for generations, gathering around the fire or the altar. Some of the things here represent some deep connections we have and always will.”
Paige grabbed Cookie’s other hand. “We are safe here.”
“Can we get on with it?” Beatrice said, but she held onto Vera and DeeAnn’s hands. They were all in a circle, holding hands.
“Okay, first I’ll call quarters,” Paige said, letting go of Cookie and DeeAnn’s hands and placing herself in the center of the circle. “Hail to the North,” she said with her arms out, palms up, facing Sheila’s fireplace. “Place of patience, endurance, stability, and earth.” She dipped her hand into a bowl of dirt and let it fall back into the bowl. “Hail to the East.” She picked up a feather and placed it in the bowl. “Place of wisdom, intellect, perception, and inspiration. Air,” she added with a flourish of the feather.
She struck a match and lit the black candles on the table. “Hail to the South, place of passion, strength, energy, and willpower. Place of fire.”
As Paige welcomed each element, or called quarters as she put it, Annie watched Cookie as much as she could without making her uncomfortable. Cookie’s spirituality had been so important to her before the accident. They were all hoping that going through this ritual struck a chord in her.
After Paige was done reciting, they all sat and ate a vegan feast prepared by her and Cookie.
“So do you remember anything?” Beatrice asked.
Cookie looked up at the women, who were all focused on her. “I can’t say that I remember specific details. But it felt familiar and comforting.”
“Well, that’s something,” Vera said. “That sounds like a good start.”
Everybody mumbled in agreement.
“I have to say, the first time we did the ritual, it felt that way to me as well,” Annie said. “I was surprised. I mean, I’m Jewish. Yet this felt comforting to me. From the first.”
“Well, it should be,” Beatrice said. “All of these rituals are based on ancient ways. These things, like the seashell, have symbolized the sacred feminine for generations. You sort of pick up on these things by osmosis.”
Cookie reached for the huge seashell on the table and held it in her hands.
Is she trying to remember again? Annie wondered.
“Oh Mama, you’re such a smarty-pants,” Vera said.
“Pshaw,” Beatrice said.
“False humility never got you anywhere, Bea,” Sheila pointed out.
“I still haven’t been able to figure out what happened to the Martelino sisters,” Beatrice said. It felt fitting to talk about them tonight, on this feast of the dead.
“Sad,” Vera said.
“We’re not very close to solving the cases,” Annie said.
DeeAnn cleared her throat. “That man from Hathaway cleared up a few things for me. I don’t think they had anything to do with it.”
“Humph,” Beatrice said. “What makes you say that?”
“He told me about the problems they were having and how they might go out of business. He said the company has gotten too big to police and some of the employers and sponsors are taking advantage,” DeeAnn said.
“That makes sense,” Annie said. “The articles I’ve been reading about arrests and things all back that up. It was the intermediaries who were lax.”
“In this case, that would be . . . ?” Vera questioned.
“Pamela or the Kraft Corporation,” DeeAnn finished.
The room sat in silence.
“They seem on the up and up,” Annie finally said. “I’ve looked into them. They seem squeaky clean on the face of things.”
“Heck. It’s a huge company. It could be someone that worksh for them that Pamela doeshn’t even know.” DeeAnn was sweating profusely and slurring her words a bit.
“Are you okay?” Annie asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re sweating and slurring your words.”
“That’s just the medicine,” DeeAnn said, waving her off. “I feel fine. I’m in no pain.”
Paige frowned. “DeeAnn—”
“Really?” DeeAnn said. “You’re going to ashk me about my medishine again? Haven’t I had enough drama for tonight, what with my idiot hushband punching Bryant in the nose?”
Paige held up her hand as if to say You’ll get nothing more from me.
“Well, on that note, I need to get going,” Annie said, standing up from the table.
“Early night?” Beatrice said.
“Not really,” Annie said. “I just have a little work to do.”
After everybody said their good-byes, she took off down the dark, empty street alone, her bag flung over her shoulder and her cell phone in her hand. She liked to keep her phone close when she traveled in the dark. Not all of the streets were well lit.
As she rounded the first corner, she felt as if someone were watching her. Strange. The Halloween festivities were over. Not many folks would be out or looking out their windows. A thump of a footfall sounded from somewhere behind her.
As Annie turned, things became a blur of color. The clown from the fire hall reached for her and pulled his face close to hers, opening his mouth. She twisted and kneed him in the crotch; he bent over, groaning, and she kneed him again in the head, ignoring the pain rippling through her knee. He went down.
“Help!” she yelled and saw Mrs. Green coming out of her house wielding a shotgun.
“Wait! Don’t shoot! Please, just call 9-1-1,” Annie said, feeling her chest nearly explode with the pounding of her heart and her knee reeling with pain.
“I done that already, missy,” Mrs. Green said. “Figured you needed backup until the police get here.” She was in her robe, with curlers in her hair.
“Well, thank you,” Annie said, trying to catch her breath.
The police were there momentarily and Annie found the strength to face her attacker, who the medics were trying to awaken. Vera and the others had come running down the street as soon as the sirens sounded. Cookie’s arm went around Annie as a police officer took off the clown mask.
“Jorge,” Annie said with a pang of disappointment traveling through her. “Oh Jorge, what have you done?”