The Amston Witch

By Larry Zimmerman

Margot St. Ronan asked Dirk Adler to accompany her to obtain a psychic reading from a local medium, Madam Dianne Teratoid. Although Dirk conceded to accompany her, he felt that psychic readings were foolish and a waste of money. Dirk changed his opinion when Madam Teratoid revealed a fact about Margot that she had hidden in her past. When a possible enemy of Dirk’s shoots at him and almost kills him, Dirk finds out that he now has premonitions and can make accurate predictions. He finds that this new ability is a curse and not a blessing. Going to Madam Teratoid for help, Dirk receives some valuable training that changes the curse into an advantage. Dirk’s new found power helps him to save a life and solve an insurance case. When he and Joe Wolf use it for making money, the ability leads them to unforeseen problems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Zimmerman
• Release date: Dec 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9780988754683

Larry Zimmerman

Larry E. Zimmerman graduated from the University of Hartford with a major in mathematics and a minor in literature. He worked for IBM as a Technical Industry Specialist and retired after 25 years. During that time, he taught programming classes, wrote many application programs and manuals for the banking industry. In retirement, he teaches poetry and short story writing to adults and senior citizens. Larry has won a number of awards for his poetry and short stories. He is known in Amston CT, for his mystery books that take place in the local environment.

Book preview

by

Larry E. Zimmerman

Book 11 of the Amston Lake mystery series

* * * * *

Published by: Blue Pinion Enterprises at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 by Larry E. Zimmerman

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This book is available in print from Blue Pinion Enterprises. Order books from:

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. The characters and animals in this story are fictional and bear no resemblance to people or animals living or dead.

Map of Amston Lake

Dedicated to my army buddy, Fred Behm,

who gave me memories and laughs that I

shall never forget.

How often have the doting fingers of prurient philosophers pinched and poked thee.

e. e. cummings

Table of Contents

Title Page and Front Matter

Map of Amston Lake

Quotes

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Epilogue

Finis

About the author

Other Amston Lake mysteries

Chapter 1

It’ll be fun. Margot gave me one of those coy smiles that she always used when she wanted something.

I was not influenced by the look. That stuff is garbage. It’s all a sham. It’s trickery. They tell you what you want to hear by asking you questions and then use your words to tell your fortune. Save your money.

My friend Megan had a reading and the medium knew everything about her, her past life and what her future would bring. The medium told Megan some things that only Megan knew. Margot was serious.

Like what?

Megan had stolen a ring from Kay’s Jewelry when she was sixteen. She never told a soul. In fact, she was so nervous about stealing it, that she put it in the collection plate at church.

Hoping for redemption, I sneered.

Whatever, but it was a fact that no one else knew, especially not the medium.

I’ll bet the wonderful medium got a hint about it somehow. Or led Megan down the psychic path. I’m telling you, it’s all show business.

I’m not sure she is psychic. She says she is a medium.

What’s the difference?

I don’t really know. In any case, it’s fun. Don’t you want to know your future?

Absolutely not. I don’t even want to know the present. Speaking of future, why isn’t your wonderful psychic a millionaire? If she really can read the future, she should be rich. Right? I kept that frozen sneer on my face.

Oh, that’s an old argument. Medium’s can’t use their powers for personal gain.

I laughed. How about the money she charges for a reading? Isn’t that a personal gain?

That’s different. That is earned money, not psychic money. Margot had all the answers. So what do you say, let’s go and enjoy the reading.

Hell, why not. You’re paying for it. I’m not going to waste my money on a charlatan.

Cheapskate. Margot leaned over and gave me a kiss. Let’s go.

Now? I want to watch TV. Jeopardy is on in a few minutes.

Forget it. I made an appointment for 7:30. You can watch TV another night. Get ready.

Jeez, Jeopardy or a spirit rapper. What a choice.

Margot left the room to do all the things women do before leaving the house. I went to the john and then called out that I was ready. I poured myself another glass of wine, knowing that Margot would be another ten or fifteen minutes. Perhaps the wine would put me in a better mood to listen to that psychic crap. I looked around. I wouldn’t mind living here with Margot. It was a nice house, but the place was too congested. Margo was a pack rat. Perhaps some day, she would ask me to live with her, in her house or mine. My house was a comfortable house, but more isolated and sterile. Just the way I liked it. When I bought it, it was just a shack, a handyman’s delight as the saying goes. Now I had transformed it into a very livable year round modern house.

I was a loner and didn’t make many friends. I always claimed that I didn’t need them. Maybe the medium would tell Margot she should live with me. That might be worth the session. If I had a chance, I would slip the old lady a few bucks to tell Margot that.

Margot was ready in thirteen minutes. I smiled. I had guessed it pretty close.

What are you smiling at? Margot asked as she came out of the powder room.

Nothing, I just won a bet with myself.

What? You bet with yourself when I would be ready?

Sweetie, we don’t have to go to the psychic. You are one yourself.

No, it’s just that you are so predictable.

I shrugged, thinking that I had to change my predictability.

Margot drove, since she didn’t want the medium to get a wrong impression from my junk of a truck. It was on Francis Drive, the last house on the right. The house was a converted cottage and looked it. No windows matched, and the siding was a mish-mash of different woods, mostly texture one-eleven. A stone chimney protruded from a roof that had three levels from small additions underneath. The front door looked like a reject from Home Depot.

Impressive house, I muttered satirically.

Be good, Margot, admonished me. Don’t prejudge the medium by the looks of her house.

I can hardly wait to hear what she has to say, I replied, then added, I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Oh, one more thing, my friend says the medium is a witch. Margot’s last minute revelation was almost more than I could handle.

WHAT, a witch? You got to be kidding.

Relax; she is just a normal, pleasant person.

Sure, and I am a Yeti with two heads. What the hell are you getting me into?

Margot ignored me and knocked on the door, since there was no doorbell. The door opened to a middle-aged woman who looked better than many middle-aged women I’ve known. I would guess her age to be about 45 to 50 years old. She had silky salt and pepper hair that was loose behind her ears. She wore glasses but I could see pale blue eyes through them. I wouldn’t classify her as beautiful, but was definitely above average looking. She wore a long gauze-type print dress that went to the floor. It had long sleeves and an open v – neckline. A gold necklace that went into the open space had some kind of medallion just barely visible.

At least she doesn’t look like a witch, I said under my breath. That earned me a kick in the shin.

Come in, come in, you must be Margot St. Ronan. She greeted us with a smile. And you must be Dick.

Dirk, my dick has another name. That earned me another kick.

She either ignored the remark, or didn’t hear it.

Welcome to my humble abode. I go by the name of Madam Teratoid.

And I go by the name of A. Humble Body.

Margot and I followed her into the living room. She motioned us to a couple of old but comfortable chairs. I looked around the room, expecting to see all sorts of witchy things like talismans, voodoo dolls, pentagrams, scarabs, leather pouches with strange contents (eye of the newt, etc.) and other paraphernalia that witches use for their black magic. There was none that I could see. The only thing close was a large picture hanging over the fireplace. It was a print of The Scream by Edvard Munch. That was a bit strange and certainly unusual for display in a living room. Perhaps her customers scream to get out of there. All my pictures were mundane, mostly mountain scenes and flowers. I hoped the witch wasn’t a screamer.

Which one of you is here for the reading? Madam Teratoid asked softly.

I turned from the painting and thought if she is psychic, wouldn’t she know?

Margot could read my thoughts, and sent me a dirty look that meant, keep quiet. It’s me.

I need some personal item of yours, Madam Teratoid looked at Margot, Perhaps something from your pocketbook, or some piece of jewelry.

Margot opened her pocketbook and looked through the contents. I have a lot of things in here. Maybe not something you would want.

I see that you are wearing a necklace. That would be perfect. Have you been wearing it long?

It was a Christmas gift from Dirk three years ago. It’s an ankh. I wear it all the time. It’s my favorite.

An ankh? That’s perfect. Please let me use that.

Margot reached behind her neck, unclasped the necklace, and handed it to Madam Teratoid, who started to rub the ankh between her thumb and finger.

You had a very bad time in your life that caused you much heartache and problems. You are over that now, but the memory lingers. It was a bad marriage, is that correct?

I smiled. That was an easy one. Middle aged woman not wearing a wedding ring. Odds were high that she was married once, and not now, so the marriage probably was a bad one. The count is psychic – zero, not psychic – one.

That’s correct, Margot, answered. My husband killed himself after becoming addicted to heroin.

Careful Margot, don’t give her too much information.

Madam Teratoid nodded. Sad that people destroy their lives with drugs. She was quiet for a few minutes, probably thinking over some drivel that we might accept. Then she started.

"People always ask me if they are going to travel. There is no journey in your future. Retirement is always prevalent in your mind; however, you need the money so that won’t happen for a while.

Sure, what person in their fifties isn’t thinking of retirement?

You were brought up catholic and believe in God, but are not a practicing catholic.

Good guess.

You are always worried about your health and worry about your appearance. You are thinking of getting a face-lift to keep your youthful countenance.

What woman isn’t worried about her appearance?

You are honest and trustworthy.

Aren’t we all?

You are in a love affair, but it is fragile…….."

Uh-oh, here it comes.

Madam Teratoid stopped and looked directly and hard at me.

Dick, why are you so negative? Your vibrations are coming at me in an antagonistic and pessimistic manner.

Margot sent me a look that would kill. If she were close enough, I would have received a crippling kick.

It’s Dirk. Oh, I’m sorry; it’s just that I don’t believe in this stuff. Everything that you have said so far is either obvious or an easy guess.

My comment didn’t seem to bother Madam Teratoid. There are many non-believers. Please try not to have these negative thoughts. It interferes with my readings.

I looked abashed at Margot, apologized again, and said I would keep my thoughts positive.

Madam Teratoid began again. You have no confidence in the justice system and avoid police at all costs…… Oops, sorry, those are Dick’s thoughts coming through again. Excuse me please; I have to reset my mind. She stood up and left the room.

Dirk, you bastard, you are wrecking everything. I shouldn’t have brought you along. Boy, was she mad.

Geez, how did I know she could read my thoughts?

What am I saying? Read my thoughts?

I’ll be good, I promise.

You’d better be, or you may be looking for a new girlfriend.

Madam returned holding a small cordial glass in her hand that contained a dark red liquid. I assumed it was wine. Where was mine?

This is a special liquid that activates my mind. It is not wine. She looked at me. Damn, maybe she can read my mind. She downed the liquid in one gulp. She set the glass down on the table next to her. I could see some of the liquid in the bottom. Perhaps, if she left the room again, I could taste the stuff. Then could I become activated?

I’ll resume. She started rubbing the Ankh again and smiled at Margot. You’re a very confident person and think well on your feet. You’re a good manager at your work. The other employees like you but some may be jealous because of your ability to handle tough situations. The downside is that you are insecure about your love life, after that bad marriage. Oh, look at that. You saved someone’s life. Was it Dick?

Margot didn’t correct Madam about the name, but nodded yes. I rescued Dirk from a killer.

Madam continued, He saved you also?

Margot gave her a quiet yes.

You two have had quite an interesting relationship. What happened with your child? You don’t have it now.

I looked at Margot on that one. What did she mean child? Margot never had a child.

Margot was quiet for too long looking at the floor. When she looked up, I could see tears in her eyes. I lost him during my pregnancy. My husband was high on Heroin and hit me in the stomach. I lost the baby.

I couldn’t believe that. Margot never mentioned it to me. How did Madam Teratoid know that? I didn’t even know it.

Madam reached over and took Margot’s hand. I am sorry to hear that. As I said, drugs destroy many lives, even babies. I feel a very strange situation coming into your future. It is something you have never encountered before. I can’t see exactly what it is but it will be very interesting. I am done.

Yeah, back to the pseudo psychic junk.

Just like that, she was finished. I had to find out more about this woman. That thing about the child shook up Margot and amazed me.

How did you become a witch? I didn’t call her a psychic.

Madam Teratoid handed the necklace back to Margot and turned to me. It’s in my genes. I am the fifteenth generation of witches, as far as I know. My line of witches may go back further. My relative Alse Young was hung as a witch on May 26, 1647. I am her direct descendent.

Was that when all the witch mania was happening? Was she from Salem?

No, witchcraft was here in Connecticut long before the Salem trials. Alse lived here in Windsor, CT. She was tried and hung in Hartford at Meeting House Square, the site of the Old State House.

I didn’t know that there were witches hung in Connecticut.

She read me again. Actually, there were quite a few, at least ten. Two were actually given the water test.

What was the water test?

"It was a test beyond belief. They throw the suspected witch into a body