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

pilot’s optimistic words, I certainly felt threatened.
       We landed safely, thanks mainly, I’ll always believe, to the woman who was seated across the aisle from me, who maintained a steady murmur of heartfelt prayer from take-off to landing.  Every time the plane would lurch, the volume and sincerity of her prayers would rise, and recede only when the plane had managed steady itself again.  None of the rest of us exchanged tolerant smiles.  I, personally, was silently encouraging her.  “Pray, Lady, pray!”  It would have been tacky to applaud her when we landed, but it certainly was tempting.  We could have pretended it was for the pilot.
       It all seemed much more humorous after we’d landed safely. 
       Mr. Goldberg was at the airport as arranged.  He introduced himself and did a reasonably good job of not staring at my oddly-colored eyes.  He was a small, round man in the midst of the towering people surrounding us.  That worked out well, because I am a small, round woman . 
       “How was the flight?” he asked conversationally, while leading me over to the car rental counter.  The wonderful thing about small-town airports is how everything is located within a short walk in the same building.
       “A little bumpy,” I admitted.  Why couldn’t I just come out and say I’d been scared half out of my wits in the small, lurching aircraft?  Why? Because I was now in Minnesota and most of the people don’t express extreme emotion easily.
       “I imagine.  Looks like we’re in for a little weather.” 
       “The pilot said we were flying ahead of the real storm.”
       “Well, we’ll have you safely tucked into your new home before the brunt of it gets here,” he promised.  It was amazing at how quickly I’d relapsed into the infamous fascination with weather.  “The car rental just needs your signature and we’re on our way.  We’ll stop off at a grocery store before we leave town.  The house has some staples in it, but I thought you might like to pick up a few fresh items.”
       I took his words to mean I’d be wise to stock up on enough food to keep me alive for a few days… just in case…  My memories of childhood winters were quickly returning.  “Aren’t there any restaurants in town?”  I asked. 
       “Certainly.” He sounded insulted I’d asked.  Where did I think I was going?  The boondocks?   “But if we should be in for a good storm, it won’t hurt to have some groceries on hand.  Of course I’ve arranged to have your driveway plowed.”  He laughed with false heartiness.  “You won’t be snowed in for the duration, you know.”
       By then we were at the car rental counter.  I signed my name in the right places, carefully making sure the car was insured for any unexpected trips into the ditch.  It had been a long time since I’d tackled driving on snowy roads.  We then collected my lone suitcase and plowed out into the snow and wind.  The parking lot lights, triggered by lack of natural light, were already glowing.  As the snow swirled around them, creating misty, moving halos, I shivered—as much with delight as cold.  I’d forgotten how invigorating a good snowfall could be.
       As I followed the lawyer, me in my freshly brushed-off Toyota, him in his four-wheel drive pickup, I was surprised at the amount of traffic on the road.  Where was everyone in such a hurry to get to when the weather was so bad?  When we pulled into the grocery store lot, I realized where at least half of the drivers had been headed.  I commented on it as we entered the store.  “You’d think people around here would stay well-supplied with staples, just on general principle.”
       “Oh, we do,” he said as he stuffed numerous bags of snack foods into his cart.  “Of course we have to pick up extra milk and such when a big storm comes, but it isn’t really what all this movement is about.  There’s something about the