What everyone had failed to notice, during it all was the little girl, standing beside the body of the deceased, stock still as she gazed up a little, almost smiling. They would have seen her do something quite out of turn.
They would have seen her reach over, and pull the lace cloth, off, off of the face. His eyes closed, dark brown hair slightly messed from the removal of the material, chin jutted slightly upward in the air in that way he had in life, skin quite pale, marbled and cold.
Oh, uncle, she thought sadly, aching to throw her arms around his shoulders, one of which was bare, exposed, around his neck, and bury her head upon his chest with his chin resting atop her head. Of course, in this fantasy, his arms wound around, holding her tight, she could hear his beating heart, feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took, and he would be warm, like a furnace…
But no. She had to continue, do as he asked her, let the truth be out…
Then, and only when, she pushed the lace back and slid her hand in a dead man’s pocket with a dead man’s permission, did someone notice her.
A man with an impressive beard, thick and dark, and curly, and a handlebar moustache, a flat cap crushed against his head of long, dark hair, spector goggles upon the hat and going by the name of Argus yelled ‘Hey!’ as he spotted her.
Zsuzzana resisted the urge to flick her hand and whirl around at being caught. She reckoned she could play the innocent card pretty well. But no, she couldn’t, she needed to do this, or else…
Else Mary get away with murder.
And as Argus yelled ‘hey!’ again, beginning to charge forward, more people noticing her, there was a scream of ‘harlot!’ and Zsuzzana swallowed…
Sweet, merciful God, if he does hereby exist, she felt the crackled, battered coldness of paper between her fingers, and she yanked it out hastily, praying it didn’t rip –
And it didn’t, and she grinned wider than the Cheshire Cat from C.S. Lewis’s Alice Through The Looking Glass ever could, unfolded the yellow creases, and thrust it upward, without even reading it, right in the face of Argus, and those who had mistaken her for violating the deceased, intent on stopping her.
It was enough to stop them all quite dead in their tracks.
Argus was the first to speak, as a muted cry, again of harlot was in the background. “It … it can’t be true.”
Searah gasped dramatically. “Never!”
Then Helene looked at her granddaughter, quite pale, and said “You pulled it from his pocket. I saw it. It’s … it’s my son’s own writing.”
“I saw her pull it from the pocket, too!” a voice cried.
And then Zsuzzana held it up higher, pushed up on her tiptoes and screwed her eyes shut as she bellowed “Mary did it!”
And then
Pandemonium.
Mary, who Zsuzzana could now see, her hands clutching her mouth, eyes wide, squeaked. The great and terrible murderess intent on watching her husband and his lover die at her hands squeaked, like a mouse.
And turned to flee. Of course, a murderer in shock at being found out is clumsy, and even without the wall of bodies now closing in around her, aiming to trap her, she stumbled.
And Argus’s friend, who Zsuzzana do believed was called Morey, unslung the contraption strapped to his back, and threw it to Argus. Zsuzzana had been interested in it as soon as he’d walked in the door. Big, bulky, made of copper, brass and bolts, pipes and tubing.
No one had questioned him, when he’d come in, because that was Morey and Argus, inventors of contraptions extraordinaire, and they always had some new-fangled gizmo on them at all times.
Now Zsuzzana was witnessing its glorious function first hand.
Out flew the net as Argus’s finger squeezed the trigger, out it flew, and with a solid impact, hit Mary’s back, the three fist-sized ball bearing on each of its three corners wrapping around her and binding her so that she fell to the floor with a painful sounding thud.
“Stop! You’re all crazy!” Mary screamed as a circle of people drew tight around her, stopping any more ideas of escape, if the net that she was thrashing in, appearing to get tighter the more struggled, wasn’t enough. “The girl! She’s a liar! She made that all up! It’s easy to fake writing, I swear, I’m-”
It was Gloriana who pushed through the people, patted a sick and frail looking Helene’s shoulder, who nodded and clasped her hand. Helene leant over and whispered something into her ear, and Gloriana nodded gravely. Helene smiled weakly, and put one arm around the woman, before declaring ‘let her through’ and regaining enough composure to order the men to haul her up and take her away on her say so.
And Gloriana looked down at her rival, her lover’s murderer.
“I’m innocent!” Mary screeched, now restoring to kicking her legs. It’s all she could do.
“Now that’s laughable.” Gloriana knelt down.
“Harlot, you disgusting adulteress!” she gnashed her teeth, and Gloriana laughed, reaching and taking Mary’s chin roughly, forcing her to look Gloriana in the eyes. “I’d hold that tongue of yours if I were you.” Before letting go suddenly, and roughly yanking the necklace around Mary’s neck off, standing, and pushing her way out the crowd again.
By the time Gloriana had reached a patiently waiting Zsuzzana, and Morey and a group of men had hauled a still struggling Mary to her feet – she was apparently enough force to merit such heavy duty handling, which one could easily believe - Gloriana had her necklace back in its rightful place, thumping against her chest with each step. It had been cold, to put on, too.
A witch’s heart must never beat, she reckoned. If she ever even had one.
Zsuzzana reached and clasped into Gloriana’s hand, squeezing it. “We don’t need to be here for the policemen.”
Gloriana laughed, and nodded. She glanced at the funeral party, now either talking in gasps and rushed voices, huddled in groups, leaving, fainting and wailing, or guarding the killer. No one would notice them go.
“I have something to show you.” Zsuzzana said, and with that, pulled her away, back through the kitchen, and out, into the air and evening that had settled. And before Zsuzzana called his name, she pulled Gloriana down to her eye level and said “Close your eyes and count to ten.”
