Free Earthly Delights by Kerry Greenwood Page A

me.
    ‘No, on my own, and for the girls,’ I said loudly. ‘Who were you cursing this morning? Don’t tell me you weren’t, I know a curse when I hear one.’
    ‘Not a curse,’ she said. ‘I was preparing a … learning experience.’
    ‘A learning experience? What was he going to learn? Dying for beginners? I saw your face when you were making thatpotion and you looked like you came straight from Endor with an armload of wolfsbane and a direct line to Hecate.’
    She almost smiled and began to explain, gesturing me to a seat. I noticed Belladonna in her usual posture, working her way through the underlay.
    ‘The only circumstance in which a good Wiccan is allowed to use strong methods against someone is if the person will learn something life-enhancing from the experience,’ she told me in her normal voice. ‘If, for instance, their habits are set or their mind is clouded. And they need, say, a shock. To jolt them into a more harmonious mode of thought.’
    ‘Harmonious,’ I said.
    Meroe nodded. She had shed the black shawl and her wrap was of scarlet, a little too close to the colour of blood.
    ‘So they aren’t going to wake up without legs, or find that their mouth has healed up overnight?’ I asked. ‘Or be transformed into a toad?’
    ‘Not unless that would be educational,’ said Meroe sweetly.
    ‘And you have designed this educational experience for whom?’
    ‘The man who sent the letter, and the one who wrote the slogan. They may be the same person, of course. I went up to the garden early this morning,’ she said. ‘I saw it then. I don’t like witch-burners.’
    I pounced on the one piece of information she had given me.
    ‘So it’s a man?’
    ‘Pendulum never lies,’ she said complacently. I could have argued with that, but we had an agreement.
    ‘So how shall we know this guy?’ I asked. ‘Will he turn conveniently blue or go bald or something?’
    ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘But all that he does will go amiss. That was a good spell, that one. My mother taught it to me, to be used against burners. I can already feel it working.’
    ‘Oh, good.’ I felt strangely at a loss for words. I promised more herb rolls for tomorrow if she could sell me some more herbs and left with my highly scented parcel.
    Sometimes, I admit, my friend Meroe gives me the creeps. So it was a bit of a relief to find Senior Constable Lepidoptera White talking to Mistress Dread when I went into her shop.
    I had never been inside before. I had expected the usual sex shop stuff, but it looked like the salon of a very expensive designer, all cream leather and gold brocade curtains. The only sign of the Mistress’s preoccupation was a stack of books, like pattern books, on a low glass coffee table.
    ‘Hello,’ I said to the senior constable. ‘I’m afraid I’ve found another slogan.’
    ‘Did you ask the Lone Gunmen about the letter?’ asked Mistress Dread.
    ‘Yes, they said the layout was lousy, that it was done in Calypso on an IMAC with a laser printer and that any schoolchild could do better. So we look for someone over twenty-five, and that isn’t very helpful.’
    ‘Another painted slogan?’ asked the police officer. She looked neat today, and tired as well. Perhaps that was how she always looked. One thing. She was not at all fazed by sitting on a very low leather couch with a person of indeterminate sex, who was wearing a red leather corset and smoking a cigar in a holder. That took style.
    ‘Yes, I’ll show you, if you like,’ I said. Ms White heaved herself to her feet.
    ‘You may have the offensive words removed,’ she toldMistress Dread. ‘We have photographed them and tested the paint. It’s spray paint, as you might have guessed. If you find a spray can lying around, bag it. It might have fingerprints. Now, Ms Chapman. Show me your graffiti.’
    I led her up to the roof garden and removed the tarpaulin. She sat down on her heels to examine it.
    ‘Exodus 22:18,’ I told