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The Strange Case of Ms. Casspaw:
Five, Ms. Casspaw's First Edification:
Recently I had another occasion to visit with my unusual neighbor, Ms. Casspaw. You may remember that she was being recruited by a coven of witches the last time I spoke with her. I was not snooping, but I did happen to be looking out of our front window when a young woman road up to her home on a ten speed bicycle. I recognized the girl immediately as one of the thirteen. She was dressed in well cut black jeans with a matching black jacket. She also wore a black safety helmet. With her youthful figure, it was an attractive combo.
Ms. Casspaw let her in and I simply had to fight my compulsion to go over and butt in. It was well I did. If I had been with Ms. Casspaw, I would not have noticed the arrival of Mr. Casspaw. It turned out that he showed up about an hour after the young witch. I was curious when he just sat in his car, then I saw the reason. A police cruiser drove up and Mr. Casspaw got out with a relieved expression on his face.
It was when they approached the Casspaw front door that I noticed something else. Several cats, lead by Mr. Robert, were slipping along my side of the hedge. Hidden from his sight, they were approaching Mr. Casspaw's vehicle. One by one, they darted across the open space and dived through the open vehicle window. Mr. Robert directed them like a drill sergeant.
"Strange," I muttered.
"What's strange?" demanded Mrs. Gaffer.
She had, as she often does, slipped silently up beside me. I was not badly startled because I am accustomed to her stealth.
"Mr. Robert," I replied.
"That damn tiger?" she demanded.
Mrs. Gaffer must have been a bit excited. Unlike myself, she does not normally use even the mildest of four letter words.
"Yes," I answered. "The Bobcat."
"What's that damn tiger doing?"
"He and several other cats are in Mr. Casspaw's auto," I answered.
"That Man? He's here too?"
"He and a police officer."
"Oh, oh," groused Mrs. Gaffer. "No good will come of this."
It was one of her favorite phrases, whenever she was at a loss for words. I held my peace.
Just then, a new Cadillac pulled up to the curb and a well dressed man stepped out with briefcase in hand. He turned out, I discovered later, to be Ms. Casspaw's attorney. He went immediately up to the Casspaw porch where a distressed Ms. Casspaw stood with a triumphant Mr. Casspaw and a sheepish looking police officer. Mr. Casspaw was waving some papers under her nose and grinning nastily.
The attorney snapped the papers deftly from Mr. Casspaw's hand and began scanning them. I heard his voice, but could make out none of the words. From the tone I surmised that he was peppering Mr. Casspaw with questions. The policeman stayed wisely out of it.
While all of that was going on, I noticed Mr. Robert and his entourage depart Mr. Casspaw's auto. They were just in time for I saw Mr. Casspaw shuffle, head down, toward his car. He looked a bit embarrassed. He got into his car then leaped out again with a handkerchief under his nose. He was gaging and vomiting in the street as he ran away, leaving his car standing with the door open.
"I bet I know what they did," chortled Mrs. Gaffer.
Mrs. Gaffer is always pleased when cats come off as being clever.
The police officer was next. He went to Mr. Casspaw's auto and looked in. Then he jumped quickly back, waving a hand in front of his nose. He reached out with his boot and pushed the door closed. Then he wrote out and managed to put a yellow sticker on the rear window of the car. He was shaking his head with large "Oh-my-goodness!" eyes as he went to his cruiser and drove off.
The attorney stood for a moment and spoke with Ms. Casspaw. Then he gave her a kindly pat on the shoulder and returned to his car. A moment later he was gone and all that remained was Mr. Casspaw's car and the young woman's bicycle. Two hours later, the girl left. Mrs. Gaffer did not have to urge me to pay a visit to our neighbor.
Ms. Casspaw was at the door, ready to let me in. As always, she was delighted to see me.
"I'm so glad you came by," she said as she prepared the martinis.
She plopped three olives into a glass and covered them with the chilled dry beverage. As I sat down at her kitchen table I notice Mr. Midnight sitting quietly in his corner chair. I smiled at him and he nodded slightly.
"I had my first edification today," she announced with a smile.
"We did notice the arrival of the young witch," I grinned, "along with some other things."
Ms. Casspaw chuckled.
"Yes. You probably noticed that Mr. Casspaw called again."
"Indeed I did," I replied. "Then he seemed in such a hurry to leave that he forgot his auto."
That seemed to delight Ms. Casspaw. She came as close to an outright guffaw as is possible for her.
"What was that all about?" I queried.
"He was after the house again," she frowned.
"Apparently he was less than successful," I prompted.
"Indeed," she smiled. "Luckily, my attorney, Mr, Courtney, showed up at just the right time."
"How strange," I remarked, looking at Mr. Midnight, "and somehow, Mr. Robert was at hand too."
I don't know how he did it but Mr. Midnight managed to look smug.
"I don't think it was entirely accidental or strange," said Ms. Casspaw.
"How so?" I queried.
"Well, my attorney said he just had a strange feeling, almost a compulsion, that he must come here at once."
"My goodness!" I remarked looking at Mr. Midnight. "I wonder what caused that?"
Mr. Midnight arched his back and I swear he smiled before he settled down and commenced to purr.
Ms. Casspaw noticed the direction of my eyes.
"I agree," she said. "I'm sure that Mr. Midnight was somehow able to influence events. I'm convinced that he put out the call to Mr. Robert also."
I had nothing to add to that. I have already seen too much to doubt her conclusion.
"Whatever did Mr. Robert do with Mr. Casspaw's auto?" I asked with raised eyebrows.
"Oh Mr. Gaffer, I'm sure you guessed that he and his friends used it as a litter box."
I chuckled. "Mrs. Gaffer surmised that immediately," I replied.
Ms. Casspaw grinned. "Now I understand why he insisted that I serve him and his friends such strange things this morning. I had to go to market to get most of it."
"Whatever did they eat?" I queried.
"They actually had warm beer, with cod liver oil, anchovies, and Limburger cheese," she replied.
"I can guess that combo did the same to their systems as it would have to mine," I remarked.
Ms. Casspaw smiled again.
"It seems Mr. Courtney had no problem with Mr. Casspaw," I prompted.
"Oh that fool man," she blurted. "He tried to take possession of my home. He came here with some trumped up court papers that he got somewhere. It was not from a court, that's for sure. The officer was taken in, but Mr. Courtney was not. He threatened to charge him with fraud."
"Will he do that?"
"Not really, she replied. "Mr. Courtney said it would just drag things out. He is going to protest to Mr. Casspaw's attorney, but we want to get the divorce over with before we do anything else."
"I suspect that's best," I agreed. "You must have better things to do than testify in an iffy fraud trial."
"For sure," she smiled refilling my glass. "I have my edification program to consider, and my business. I can't ignore that."
"For real sure, I agreed. "It has served you well. I could hope your relationship with the ladies goes as well."
"I believe it will. I don't know much yet, but I'm beginning to get a good feeling."
"You feel that these are good ladies?" I asked.
"Indeed," she replied. "It seems there is a lot of confusion about witches and wizards. It's not at all like I would have guessed. Of course, all I learned today is about the organizational structure and a bit about how witches behave."
"It looked like you only saw the youngest of the group today. She must be an apprentice."
"Oh, not at all, Mr. Gaffer. She is simply less experienced. If she did not have useful powers, she wouldn't be part of the coven."
"I stand corrected," I said. "How are these people organized?"
"Very loosely," she replied. "The group who are visiting me are a recruiting and training coven, but they operate on their own."
"No one directs them?" I blurted.
"No. It did seem odd to me too, but with witches there is no central authority."
"How in the world do they maintain any cohesion?" I asked.
"It seems they communicate a great deal. I surmise that some of it is of the same nature as the relationship I had with Mr. Snooper."
"Like telepathy?"
"It seems so, Mr. Gaffer. I believe that is how Mr. Midnight communicated this morning, but I don't really know that. It's just a guess."
"Well, how are they organized, if at all?"
"I can explain some of that," she replied.
I gave her my full attention.
"I found out that there are regional organizations of witches. These do not follow the normal political boundaries. They are more continental in nature. North America I discovered is one such region.
"The North American fraternity does have several more experienced witches which the others look up to. From my understanding it is a position more like a village elder than say, a chief. It seems to be a matter of respect. The most revered one in the North American fraternity is called Reverend Sister Bernice.
"I was told that thirteen in a coven has to do with the balance of power, nothing more. It has no mystical significance. It's more about the point of diminishing returns. With less than thirteen the group's potential is not realized. With more than thirteen, not much is gained. Usually an older witch who is quite advanced will decide to create a coven. She will then invite others to participate. She will select those whose talents will give the best balance to make the coven most effective in whatever it undertakes. Each individual's talent should lend itself to the total without excess duplication."
"Then the regions are organized into a number of covens?" I queried.
Not completely, Mr. Gaffer. Not all witches choose to be part of a coven. Some choose an independent life. Everyone is a free being. No one is compelled to be part of anything. It's a matter of choice and compatibility, just as with any other human activity. I get that witches are simply humans who have developed unusual skills and talents."
"Do you mean that they were born with unique special powers?"
"Not in the sense that they are special powers available to some and not others. I was told that the skills are latent in all humans. Some women make a special effort to develop the talents and, in the process, become witches. This is apparently what I began when, somewhat by accident, I identified with Mr. Snooper."
That was all that Ms. Casspaw had to tell me about her adventures into witchcraft. We chatted on until my glass was empty. She does make a fine martini. After that I had to hurry home to report to Ms. Gaffer.
Sometime later that evening, a police tow truck arrived and took Mr. Casspaw's auto away. I do not envy the person at the impound lot who had to log that car in.
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