The Magic of Murder Read Online Free Page A

on—not after Judge Cotton Mather insisted the Court of Oyer and Terminer had to conduct the trials so quickly, the accused might have been hauled in the front door, condemned, and dragged out the back door to Gallows Hill in less than an hour. That’s what happened to the Goode woman, who in July took what was once called a ‘short-drop’—dangling from a tree branch until she choked to death. Fearful she might be the next to be accused, Sarah’s daughter, the child of her first marriage to Daniel Poole, fled Salem. The girl’s name was Emlyn.
    Emlyn. Sarah Goode. The book spoke about my family! My great, great, great, great—I gave up trying to count back generations—grandmother had been hanged as a witch. No wonder my parents never spoke about our family.
    When I closed the book, perspiration was dripping down my neck. I’d been so lost in the trials, convictions, and executions, I hadn’t realized the power had been turned on. My house was now overly warm. Or perhaps it was my brain that had gone hot.
    Stiff from lying in one place so long, I rolled over on the sofa and lifted the afghan. Something about it caught my eye. I held up the knitted cover, and closely examined it for the first time. The designs my grandmother had sewn looked like runes I’d seen in the book about magical herbalism. Those were symbols a witch might draw. What the hell was going on here?
    I got up and stumbled to the telephone.
    This time Ms. Nurse answered after two rings. “Have you finished reading it?” she said.
    “Why’d you give me that book?” I demanded.
    “Wasn’t me,” she said. “It was Elvira.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    She didn’t respond.
    The phone tucked under my chin, with my hands on my hips, I said, “Why would a cat want me to have it?”
    I heard her take a deep breath. “ Your ancestor wasn’t the only one killed by those crazy people.”
    “Yeah, I saw,” I said. “Someone named Rebecca Nurse was hanged the same day as Sarah Goode.”
    “It wasn’t her I meant.”
    “Who, then?”
    “Elvira’s ancestors have been around as long as ours.”
    I couldn’t help myself—the words got out before I could stop them. “How do you know that?”
    Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Elvira told me.”
    My eyes rolled back, I slowly shook my head.
    “She wants you to avenge what was done to her family.”
    “Me?” The lady’s nuts, I thought.
    “It’s in the genes, you see,” she said.
    “What is?”
    Instead of rushing on, Rebecca Nurse said very slowly, “Of all the people hanged in Salem for being witches, only one really was.”
    This was too much. I slammed down the receiver.
     
    ***
     
    I tossed the book into the trash, which was where it belonged. It was dark now—winter nights fall early in Niagara Falls. My stomach grumbled. Except for a couple of mugs of coffee and tea, I hadn’t put anything in it all day. I pulled a box of corn flakes from the kitchen cabinet, and settled down at my dinette table with Magical Herbalism open in front of me. Though I knew it’s impossible for herbs and incantations to alter the workings of the universe, I was now fascinated by the prospect of it. Credit my family history and a writer’s imagination for that.
    It’s in the genes , the Nurse woman had told me.
    Ridiculous! I snorted at the idea. Still, I kept reading.
    Elvira strolled over and sat at my feet. When I glanced down, she seemed to say, Aren’t you going to do anything about it?
    “About what?” I said to her. “That happened more than three hundred years ago. People got caught up in mass hysteria, what can I do about―?”
    I stopped in mid-sentence. I was talking to a cat. Worse, she was talking to me. I felt as though I’d lost my mind. I shoved the cereal bowl and book aside, and sat, head cupped in my hands. I must have stayed that way for an hour or so. I might have remained like that all night if my phone hadn’t rung. It was my mother, calling from Florida to