Aunt Dimity and the Village Witch Read Online Free PDF Page B

strange. Why would Mae Bowen pretend to be someone she isn’t?”
    “To preserve her privacy. Charles and Grant explained it all to me,” I said and went on in a rush, “Through no fault of her own, Bowen has attracted a cult following, a rabid pack of New Age crazies who call themselves Bowenists and pester her, like a gang of spiritual paparazzi. One of them bought a farm across from her gated estate—”
    “So I was right,” Bill interrupted. “She is downsizing.”
    “In a major way,” I said, nodding. “According to Grant, her old house was the size of Fairworth. The gates ensured her privacy, but one of her followers bought a farm nearby to make it easier for the rest of the gang to camp out on her doorstep. Now that she’s here, Grant and Charles are afraid her acolytes will overrun Finch and turn it into a crazies commune.”
    “We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” Bill said. “The woman moved here under an assumed name. How will her fans find her?”
    “Fan is short for fanatic,” I reminded him, “and fanatics don’t rest until they track down the object of their obsession. I think we can count on their showing up in Finch at some point and I dread to think of what will happen when they do.” I gripped his arm. “Remember what it was like during the Renaissance Fair, when the tourists trashed the green? The Bowenists will be a hundred times worse because they won’t be passing through—they’ll want to stay. Are there any legal maneuvers we can use to keep Mae Bowen’s fans from ruining Finch?”
    “We could erect barricades, issue village passports, and hire security guards to man checkpoints,” Bill suggested.
    “Are you serious?” I said, eyeing him suspiciously.
    “Of course I’m not serious,” he said, with an exasperated chuckle. “We can’t build a wall around Finch and we wouldn’t want to.”
    “Wouldn’t we?” I said, releasing his arm.
    “No, we wouldn’t,” he said. “There are laws against trespassing, harassment, loitering, littering, and so forth, but if the Bowenists behave themselves, our hands will be tied. We can’t ask the police to arrest a group of peaceful visitors.”
    “What if they try to buy property near here?” I asked.
    “Our hands are still tied,” Bill said firmly. “The law doesn’t allow us to pick and choose our neighbors, Lori. If it did, Peggy Taxman would have nowhere to live.”
    I sighed forlornly and flopped back on the sofa.
    “In that case,” I said, “we’ll have to rely on Plan A.”
    “Which is?” Bill inquired.
    “Amelia Thistle is Amelia Thistle,” I said firmly. “If anyone asks, we’ve never heard of Mae Bowen.”
    “Mae who?” said Bill, feigning ignorance.
    I acknowledged his jest with a wan smile.
    “It won’t work forever,” I said, “but if Grant and Charles and you and I keep Amelia Thistle’s true identity to ourselves, we may be able to keep Finch safe…for a while.” I glanced at my watch. “I’d better go. I haven’t had lunch yet and the laundry awaits.”
    “As do my clients.” Bill got to his feet and pulled me to mine. “Be of good cheer, my love. The worst hardly ever comes to pass.”
    “As a lawyer,” I said bleakly, “you should know better.”

Four
    H  ad I known what the day would bring, I would have parked my Range Rover directly in front of Bill’s office. As it was, I’d parked it near the Emporium, which meant that I would have to cross the green to reach it.
    I faced the journey with no little trepidation. I was certain that Millicent Scroggins had broadcast Grant’s facetious explanation for our exit from the tearoom, which meant that my neighbors had had ample time to digest his tale and to decide, quite rightly, that it was a big fat lie. I fully expected one or more of them to fling truth-seeking missiles at me as I made my way to the car, and I wasn’t in the mood to dodge them.
    Much to my relief, the attack failed to materialize. By