Free Witches' Bane by Susan Wittig Albert Page A

Maybe it’s worth it.”
    “Thirty days and two grand max.”
    “I’ll be meek,” Ruby said.
    “Ha,” I said, looking her up and down.
    For the next five minutes, Ruby stalked the line with her camera. She had come back in and was getting ready to open her shop when Bubba Harris pulled up. He lifted himself out of the police car, gave a hitch to his tan polyester pants, and surveyed the scene.
    “Maybe he’s come to send them off.” Ruby sounded hopeful.
    “I don’t think so,” I said.
    A minute later, Bubba was standing in the door. “Mor-nin’, Miz Bayles,” he said. “Looks like you still got a problem.” He took out a fresh cigar, peeled it, and stuck it in his mouth.
    “Can’t you do something about those pickets?” Ruby asked. “They’re ruining our business.”
    “They start disturbin’ the peace, you let me know.” Bubba looked around. “The mayor get here yet?”
    “The mayor’s coming?” I asked. “What is this, a top-level strategy session?”
    Bubba ignored me. “I got a question for you.” He gave Ruby a hard look. “You know anything about sacrifice? Human sacrifice?”
    Ruby gave the hard look back. “The only human sacrifice I know about is the seventeen years I was married to Ward Wilcox.”
    Bubba frowned. “This ain’t no laughin’ matter.”
    “Neither was that seventeen years,” Ruby said.
    The cigar went up and down. “Got an anonymous call this mornin’. Some woman said there’s gonna be some sorta human sacrifice ‘round here in the next few days. Said people oughtta be prepared.”
    I frowned. Human sacrifice?
    “And you figured I’d know something about it?” Ruby towered over Bubba like the Wicked Witch of the West. “Did you expect me to whistle up my coven and tell them to be good girls, no human sacrifices this week?”
    Bubba took his cigar out of his mouth. “Now, Missus Wilcox—”
    “Ms. Wilcox.”
    “Miz Wilcox. I don’t know anythin’ about whistlin’ up any coven. All I know is, I got this tip, and it’s my bid’ness to check it out.” His eyes narrowed at both of us. “An’ y’all better not go tellin’ this to the newspaper, hear? I got enough trouble. The whole damn town’s got the willies.”
    Ruby flung her scarlet cape over her black shoulder. “Well, if I hear about anybody planning to offer up one of the neighbors, you’ll be the first to know. But I can’t promise about the newspaper. How could my coven pass up publicity like that?”
    Bubba plugged his cigar back in, looking sorely tried. “I wish you’d climb down off your high horse. Missus— Miz Wilcox.”
    “And I wish you’d think twice before you come in here asking me about a human sacrifice.” Ruby wagged a blood-tipped finger in Bubba’s face. “You ought to be protecting honest merchants from the kind of ridiculous nonsense that’s going on outside right now, instead of coming in here, insulting me, harassing—”
    The door opened. I turned to see who had dared to enter the lair of fortune-tellers and the den of evildoers. It was Pauline Perkins, dressed in her mayor’s uniform, a gray suit with a pink jewel-necked blouse and pink pearls, a gray bag slung over her shoulder, sensible gray shoes.
    “Good morning, Chief Harris,” she said coolly.
    “Mornin’, Mayor,” Bubba muttered. Bubba and the mayor don’t get along. She treats him as an adjunct of the mayor’s office. He’d like to tell her to kiss off, but doesn’t dare.
    “Ruby,” Pauline said, “the Chief and I are here on official business.”
    “Are you planning to arrange for a sacrifice?” Ruby was still hot.
    “A sacrifice?” Pauline looked puzzled. “No, I’m here to negotiate a settlement between you and Reverend Harbuck.”
    Ruby rolled her eyes. “I knew it,” she said, “the minute the Chief started to talk about sacrifice. I can understand why Harbuck’s into witch-bashing, Pauline, but why you!”
    “I am not into witch-bashing,” Pauline said with