Murder Most Witchy (Wendy Lightower Mystery) by Emily Rylands Read Free Book Online Page B

however remote, that someone was here, and she was no longer sure that it was anyone she wanted to see. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the relative gloom, and soon she could see almost as well as she could in the well-lit entryway.
    Wendy moved through the exhibits, catching glimpses of the town register she had restored, the announcements of witch trials that she had mounted, and the broadsides that depicted the local government in a less than flattering light that she had brought back from near destruction. Everything looked exactly as it had the night before.
    Except for a dark shape huddled in the corner.
    Wendy stood frozen in place, watching the shape carefully. When it didn't move, she approached, putting one foot in front of the other with agonizing slowness. When she reached the dark shape on the floor, she dropped to her knees with a little cry of pain, but she kept her hands clenched at her sides and didn't try to touch him.
    Benny, the night janitor, was unquestionably dead.
    Even in the poor light, Wendy could see that his face was dark and bloated and his tongue protruded from between flat, waxy lips.
    Overhead, the blaze of lights came on, making Wendy jump up and whirl around. All she could think was that the murderer was still there and that he was going to finish her off. Her fingers, now prone at a sharp angle to her sides, tingled ominously. In the dark, the blue glow emanating from her fingertips was a beacon.
    “Wendy?” Derek emerged from the entranceway, looking left and right as he searched for her.
    All the breath left her body in a single hard whoosh, her knees buckling under her so she had to stumble to stay upright. She hid her hands, still blue with repressed electricity, in her pockets.
    “Over here,” she croaked, and she was surprised to hear how shaky her voice sounded. “You need to call 911.”
    If her mind were functioning at its usual level, she probably would have known that those words would lead to more explanations, not action.
    “What? Why?” Derek sputtered. He was moving towards her, and before she could warn him off, he had spotted Benny's contorted corpse on the floor.
    Derek fell silent with his eyes riveted on the body, open so wide they were popping out of his skull. “Is he dead?” he whispered.
    “Yes,” Wendy said dully. The adrenaline of the past few minutes was rapidly leaching from her body, leaving her numb and distant.
    “Excuse me,” Derek gasped, and he ran away. Wendy heard him retching in the garbage can by the door.
    She waited with Benny, standing upright beside him like a silent sentinel. Somehow it didn't seem right to leave him alone.
    After a few more minutes, she heard Derek call from the entrance. “I called the police. They're on their way.”
    He evidently refused to come back in the room. Coward, Wendy thought, but then she corrected herself. It wasn't right to blame Derek for not wanting to face Benny's dead, staring eyes.
    Knowing the police were coming calmed Wendy a bit. Not much, but enough that she glanced down at Benny one more time. What she saw made her heart contract even while her stomach heaved. In the light she glimpsed the look of pure panic and fear written clearly on his every feature.
    “You were frightened,” she whispered. A tear rolled slowly down her face and dropped off her chin onto the carpet. “I'm so sorry, Benny.”
    Wendy recalled the shy smile and kind, soft words that he greeted her with on those mornings when they crossed paths, and when more tears threatened to fall, she bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop from weeping.
    Benny's fingers had stiffened into claws, which grasped ineffectually at his throat. It wasn't difficult to see that he had been strangled or choked to death somehow.
    That was an odd point, though. Wendy moved closer, looking under and between Benny's fingers as best she could without touching him, trying to examine his neck. She had enough experience, and had read enough books, to know