Free Wicked Witch Murder by Leslie Meier

jacket he had piled on the floor.
    â€œI don’t know when I’ll be home,” he told Lucy. “Don’t count on me for supper.”
    â€œOkay,” said Lucy. “Be careful.”
    He nodded and went out the door.
    Lucy watched him go and hoped he wouldn’t be called into danger; she thought of Toby, who’d been out all night with the other volunteers. “I hate this fire,” she said, to nobody in particular.
    â€œIt wasn’t my fault, honest,” said Diana. “We didn’t start it.”
    Lucy looked at her with a serious expression. “Don’t make any trouble here. I’m warning you.”
    â€œOh, I won’t. I promise,” said Diana, looking hurt.
    Lucy didn’t believe her for a minute, but she had no choice; she had a job to do. The fire was a big story, and she had to help cover it.
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    Later that afternoon, tired and hungry, she checked in at the office. Nobody was there. Phyllis didn’t work Saturdays, and there was no message from Ted. Lucy sat down at her desk and began transcribing her notes into the computer, adding her impressions while they were still fresh. Images flitted through her mind: the anxious faces of the evacuees as they arrived at the shelter; the intense, focused expressions at the crisis center; Lady Sybil’s outrageous appearance as a most unlikely hiker. When she finished, she saved the file, then headed home. She was done for the day and had the luxury of going home, but the firefighters had no choice but to keep battling the flames. Her thoughts were with them, especially Toby, as she locked up and crossed the parking lot to her car. It was unusually dark for this time of day, late afternoon, and she attributed it to the smoke from the fire. But when she started the car, she noticed drops of water leaving grimy tracks as they dribbled through the soot on her windshield. Rain! It was raining!
    She stuck her hand out the window, just to be sure, and felt the drops coming faster and faster. Soon it was a real downpour. A soaker. Thank heaven.
    Flipping on her wipers and turning on the headlights, she headed home, praying that the rain would continue until the fire was completely doused. But when Monday dawned and it was still raining, Lucy was beginning to be sorry she got what she’d wished for. True, Toby and the other volunteer firefighters were able to return home. Only a handful of cabins were lost, and the evacuees were able to leave the shelter. Miraculously, no lives were lost and there were only a few minor injuries, but this unending downpour was too much. The streets were beginning to flood as storm drains backed up, creeks were rising, and moods were falling as people settled into sulks and depression. Even worse, Friends of Animals day camp, where both girls had summer jobs, was closed because of the weather, and Lucy had no choice but to leave the girls alone in the house with Diana. So far, the witch had been true to her promise not to practice witchcraft and had pretty much stayed in Zoe’s bedroom, passing the time by watching Zoe’s little twelve-inch TV. As much as Lucy would have liked to send Diana packing, her conscience wouldn’t allow it until the rash subsided and she could take care of herself.
    â€œFirst the fire and now this,” grumbled Phyllis when Lucy arrived at the office on Monday morning. Lucy hung her dripping rain jacket on the coat rack and gave her umbrella a gentle shake, then propped it against the wall. She thumped across the room to her desk in her black and white polka-dot Wellies.
    â€œI guess we’re never satisfied,” said Lucy, pulling off her boots and slipping into the pair of worn loafers she kept under her desk. “Just last week, everybody was complaining that it was too dry.”
    â€œWell now it’s too wet,” said Phyllis. “My lawn is getting all soggy. I could use a pair of boots like those. They’re