The Mystery of the Whispering Witch

“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice low, “I’d thought of that. In fact, I have no idea how it’s done.”
    “You call in an exorcist,” Mart said, “and sometimes they’re very expensive.”
    Trixie stared at him, her eyes wide. “How expensive is one?”
    Mart leaned his blond head closer to hers. “I don’t really know,” he whispered, ‘ but I do know what happens if you don’t pay your exorcist.”
    “What?”
    “You get repossessed,” Mart answered and laughed when he saw the look of outrage on his sister’s face.
    “How could you, Mart!” she hissed. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? Don’t you realize there’s nothing funny about this? Have you really thought about what we’re going to do if Fay’s truly possessed?”
    Mart looked penitent at once. “I’m sorry, Trix,” he said. “It was a dumb joke, and I do know that Fay needs help. Whether the Bob-Whites can give it to her, though, is another matter. Brian seems to think she may need professional help—in other words, she may need a psychiatrist.”
    Trixie was silent as she stared out the window at the flying landscape. She was more upset at Mart’s words than she wanted to admit, even to herself. She respected Brian’s opinion, even though she didn’t always follow his advice. This time she hoped, for Fay’s sake, that Brian was wrong.
    She stared thoughtfully at the back of Fay’s curly head as she sat sandwiched between Jim and Brian in the front seat.
    Fay seemed to feel that someone was watching her, because she twisted around, smiled at Trixie, and said, “I feel a lot better now. It seems to help when you can share troubles with your friends. There’s just one more thing, though.”
    Trixie groaned inwardly. What terrible thing was Fay going to tell them now?
    “I’d appreciate it,” Fay continued shyly, “if you didn’t tell my mother what we’ve been talking about. It would worry her very much.”
    “Of course we won’t tell her, Fay,” Honey said at once. “In fact, we won’t tell anyone.”
    The big car nosed its way into the hospital parking lot and backed into a space.
    “Oh, Fay!” Trixie exclaimed suddenly. “What did you say about not telling anyone? Something tells me that’s not going to be as easy as you think, but I certainly hope I’m wrong!”
    Startled, Fay turned to look out of the front-seat window. “What do you mean, Trixie?” Then she stopped, appalled.
    She found herself staring at a group of people who were already hurrying toward her. One woman carried a portable television camera on her shoulder. Her partner, a young man with flashing white teeth and dimples in his cheeks, was already thrusting a microphone toward Fay’s frightened face. A scruffy-looking young man had positioned himself with his still camera, ready to take a photograph, while Paul Trent, a newspaper reporter for the Sleepyside Sun, scribbled furiously in his notebook.
    “Hold on a minute there, Miss Franklin,” Mr. Teeth-and-Dimples was saying. “How would you like to tell your exciting story to our television viewers on the five-thirty news tonight?”
    Fay looked bewildered. “What—what exciting story?”
    Paul Trent thrust his head through the open window and peered curiously into her face. “We want you to tell us all about the curious haunting of Lisgard House, of course,” he said. “We got a tip that the witch tried to burn the place down last night. You might just as well give us the straight dope, you know. We’ve already heard a lot about it. C’mon girls, give us the whole story.”
    Fay stiffened, then turned her head to look behind her. Her eyes were filled with tears. “Oh, Trixie,” she whispered. “How could you!”

Mashed Potatoes ● 10

    FIVE MINUTES LATER, Trixie was still protesting her innocence as she and her friends hurried through the hospital’s main entrance. She could tell by the way Fay wouldn’t quite catch her eye, though, that she didn’t believe her.
    Fay had flatly refused to talk to either the newspaper reporter or his television counterpart. “Please! I don’t want to talk to you!” she kept repeating over and over in answer to their persistent questions.
    In the end, it was Brian and Jim who put a stop to all further argument by taking her by the arms and rushing her firmly away.
    “Jeepers!” Mart exclaimed once they were in the hospital lobby. “I feel as if I’ve been run over by a truck!”
    “I know. I do, too,” Honey