Witchy Woman by Steve Brewer

Author:Steve Brewer [Brewer, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781890768133
Amazon: B004Q9TWZK
Goodreads: 21070585
Publisher: St Martins Pr
Published: 1996-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Naturally, she took no notice of his sudden scowl. She rarely notices mine, either.

"Okay, tell me what's been going on up here."

"Wouldn't you rather get into some dry clothes first?"

She looked down at her sopping garments as if she hadn't noticed until now that she was drenched.

"Yeah, I guess so. That's a good idea."

"Are your clothes out in your car?"

"Yeah, so are my cameras. I didn't want everything to get soaked while I was finding your room."

"How did you know where it was?"

"I ran in and asked at the lobby. Then I pulled my car around here."

"You could've waited a few minutes. It looks like it's letting up out there already."

"Hey, I've got a deadline. Neither rain nor snow. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But you've got lots of time. Why don't you change clothes? Then we'll go get something to eat."

"I guess I should check in, get a room, unload my stuff."

"You could stay here with me. The Ogletroops already are paying for this room."

"Nah. Let 'em pay for another one. I'll be working late into the night. I don't want to bother you."

"No bother."

Felicia glanced over at Reasons, shook her head. "Nah. I'll get my own room."

Reasons asked me questions about Felicia while she was gone—how long we'd known each other, if we could trust her, whether it would be a problem having the newspapers involved. I wanted to turn the conversation, get back to his possible motives and size up whether he could be the killer. But he was a one-track sort of guy. It was like turning a freight train.

He seemed delighted to be included in the late lunch with Felicia, practically wagging his tail behind him.

I filled Felicia in on everything that had happened since I'd arrived in Taos. It was much like the account I'd given Ogletroop and the sheriff, except I didn't leave anything out, including the rattling pickup truck that had nearly run me down. Reasons occasionally filled in anything I missed, but he didn't have a lot to say. He seemed nervous around Felicia, as if every time he opened his face, he was risking a put-down. Not too far from wrong.

Felicia, taking notes with her right hand and shoveling food with her left, got me to describe in detail the Polaroid photos of the crime scene. The description did nothing to diminish her appetite. Reporters—the only people, besides maybe cops, who sit around and talk about gore as a way of amusing themselves. Reporters are the only folks you'll ever hear talking about a "great" plane crash.

By the time we were done, I was exhausted. It was as if retelling all the events was akin to living through them again. My knee ached where I'd banged it on the street, and I could practically feel Judah nudging me along with her spear.

"So," Felicia said when it was clear I'd run out of gas, "what are you going to do now?"

"I honestly don't know. We can't infiltrate WOMB, and it's not likely they'll talk to Reasons and me.

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