A A Albright [Albright - The Case of the Wayward Witch

It all began the day we collected Uncle Faster from hospital. It was a sweltering July morning, and I could have thought of, oh, about a hundred other things I would rather be doing. Lying on a towel on the beach. Lying on a lounger in the back garden. Lying on a cute little plaid blanket in the park

Well, you get the picture. I wanted to take advantage of this rare spell of good weather by lying around on any soft surface that would have me. Instead, I was facing the prospect of the most miserable few weeks of my life.

I think you should have consulted me before you volunteered me for this, I complained. Why does it have to be me ?

Firstly, because youve just lost yet another job and you have nothing better to do. Secondly, because hes your uncle. Your fathers brother. Your family . You do whatever you can for family.

I stared at my mother. You only ever talk about family doing for family when you want me to do something unpleasant. Like the time you wanted me to pop that zit for you, or the time you wanted me to help you get that spider out of the bath.

Well, I always say it because its true, Katy. Uncle Faster is family, and he needs someone to look after him.

Except that Uncle Faster is Dads brother, not yours. I havent seen my dad since I was five, and Im now twenty-five. Twenty years is a whole lot of time for a loser from a has-been boyband to spend on the road, dont you think? So why would I want to waste my valuable time helping out one of his relatives?

She was about to answer, but she cut off whatever she would have said when a garda waved her arms to stop the traffic. My mother braked and blessed herself swiftly, muttering, In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen, as she moved her hands swiftly in the sign of the cross. She always blessed herself when she passed a church, an ambulance, or an accident. I sat to attention, wondering which of the three was ahead.

This time, the cause of her blessing herself was a traffic accident. The lights of a garda car and an ambulance were flashing, and a small car was wrapped around a lamppost. There were paramedics on the ground, surrounding a young man who looked almost as mangled as the car.

I wound down my window and craned my neck to look out. I wasnt normally the kind of person who gawked at car crashes, but this one was oddly fascinating. It was eleven a.m. on a bright summers day. A strange time to crash into a lamppost, if you asked me. But unlikely accidents were happening everywhere today. My uncle had just had one himself, which was why my mother and I were on the way to the hospital.

It seemed like the man on the stretcher was the only person hurt in this car crash presumably the driver of the car and he was doing his best to sit up.

Calm down, one of the paramedics told him, gently pressing him back down. Were just going to wheel you onto the ambulance and then youll be right as rain. There was a lack of conviction to the paramedics voice, and I couldnt say I blamed him. The guy on the stretcher looked like he was just a few minutes away from his arrival at the Pearly Gates.

It doesnt matter where you take me, said the injured guy, coughing and writhing. If I dont die on the way to hospital, then Ill be killed as soon as I arrive. Im going to be murdered. I was always going to be murdered. Thats what happens when you go out with a woman like Diane. I should have listened to the warning. She was trying to kill me all along.

The paramedic gave him a reassuring smile and said, No ones trying to kill you, Freddy. Youve been in a single-vehicle collision. There was just you and the lamppost. No one else involved. Come on now, lets get you to hospital.

They wheeled a protesting Freddy on board and closed the door.

Finished your nosy staring? questioned my mother as the traffic crept forward.

I wasnt staring nosily , I lied. I was being a concerned citizen, thats all.

Well, save some of that concern for when youre looking after your uncle, will you? Hes nothing like your dad and you know it. He sticks around, and theres a lot to be said for that.

She had me there. Whereas my dad had absconded to places unknown, my uncle had always been there for me and my mother. I know all that, Mam, but hes so so so

Yes, he is a bit, my mother agreed. But dont worry. Hes hired someone from one of those home help agencies as well, so you wont have to do too much. He said he mainly wants you to run a few errands for him.

We were only a few vehicles behind the ambulance, and I couldnt help but notice that the lights had stopped flashing and the siren had turned off. To distract myself from the fact that a guy had probably just died a few feet away from me, I turned in my seat to face my mother.

Hey, how did Uncle Faster break his leg again?

He broke two legs, actually. And I told you all about it already, Katy. He was chasing after someone for that silly job of his.

Well, being a private investigator is a high-risk occupation, I commented. And if you ask me, his job is the only interesting thing about Uncle Faster. And maybe, I thought, the errands my mother had mentioned might involve me getting to do some investigating. It was certainly more interesting than the other jobs Id had this year. And if I was going to look after him for the next few weeks, then it would also be one of my most long-lasting jobs, too.

Beside me, my mother let out a theatrical shiver. She was a theatrical woman, in general. She was a member of the local Dramatic Society, two dance troupes, two choirs, and shed even been in a short-lived Irish soap-opera at one time. She always prayed Id follow in her footsteps, but I hated the idea of being on stage. And if my mother and her friends were anything to go by then being on stage meant dyeing my hair and wearing a whole lot more make-up than I usually wore.

We both had naturally auburn hair, but my mothers was coloured to a vivid red with the help of henna. Her two best friends had bleached blonde and jet black hair, respectively. They all looked amazing, but I figured Id save the hair dye until I actually needed it.

I keep telling him to get another job, she said. Private investigators make my skin crawl. He was probably taking photos of someones cheating husband when it happened.

Hm. Doesnt sound all that bad a job to me. Cheaters deserve to get caught. Not that I was bitter about the fact that my last boyfriend had cheated on me or anything. Id only take the slightest pleasure in making sure guys like that were caught before their loving girlfriends or wives had bought them expensive watches for their birthdays.