Read Witch One Dunnit? (Rachael Penzra mystery) for Free Online

Besides, Aunt Josie’s wishes were the only important ones to me, and those had been made very clear.  Her ashes had been sent to me in Nevada, and I was told to dispose of them out in the country, far from her home.  Now I was beginning to understand why.  Poor Aunt Josie had wanted her ashes, along with any spiritual remnant they may have contained, as far away from this woman as possible. I didn’t blame her.  I could easily imagine Lucinda sneaking into the house and stealing the ashes for her ceremony.
       “You didn’t know her as we did,” she told me, speaking from the strength of being my elder, although she hardly looked my age, let alone the fifty-two years she claimed.  She’d told me her age within five minutes of entering the house, challenging me to say the proper things.  I had, and they were true.  I never would have guessed she was more than my own thirty-eight years.  However, if she thought looking younger than her age endeared her to any female, she was sadly mistaken. 
       “No, I probably didn’t know her as well as you did, but in this particular case, I know exactly what she did—and didn’t—want done,” I reminded her, trying to speak gently despite my frustration.  She probably did need some sort of formal farewell ceremony.  Most people do.  Funerals are closures of a sort.  The loss remains, but it moves to a different level, not quite as raw.  “She left me very definite instructions.  If you and the others wish to have a ceremony, that’s up to you, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable participating in it.”
       She squinted at me, studying me over her coffee cup.  “Josie told us you’re quite a talented psychic.  She was extremely fond of you, almost as though she thought of you as the child she’d never had.  Did you sense her death?”
       “No,” I said bluntly, wondering why it is some strangers feel they have a right to ask such personal questions.  “I didn’t sense anything.”
       Her eyes remained slits.  I could read her mind, perfectly clearly.  She didn’t intend to lose me, or my talents, from her circle, but was sensible enough to back away for the moment.  “That’s good,” she patted my arm.  “It would have been terribly upsetting for you.  And of course you don’t need to join our little circle of closure if you feel uncomfortable about it.  We just felt we had to wait for you before going ahead with our plans for a service.”
       That gave her the last word.  They had been considerate.  I was inappreciative.  She was good at the guilt-game, carrying the assured arrogance of wealth and privilege, but she didn’t come close to matching Ma in planting guilt seeds .  It just goes to show you should never underestimate the benefits of trials and tribulations.  Who would have dreamed I’d be thankful to my mother for making me immune to outside forces?  “It was awfully kind of you,” I smiled at her.  There was no sense in alienating her.  She was a good customer for the store, I was sure, as well as having been a friend of my aunt’s.  “Very thoughtful, and I appreciate it.  But I can’t bring myself to go against Aunt Josie’s wishes.”
       That more or less ended the conversation.  We chatted about the weather and about my plans for the store.  Then I made the mistake of rising and going to the phone to answer it—before it rang.  I could almost feel the burn of her renewed interest in me.  There wasn’t anything I could do to change the obvious, so I didn’t try.  Still, I could have kicked the fussy little lawyer when I heard his voice.  I assured him, yet again, I was just fine, thank you, and politely told him about my visitor.
       “Oh God!” he gasped over the phone.  “Don’t commit yourself to anything.  Lovely lady, of course, but a little pushy.”
       “I understand,” I agreed, hoping his rising voice couldn’t be heard by my guest.  “Lucinda skied here.