Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 38, No. 13, Mid-December 1993

“And for the last month, instead of resting in the evening, she spends her time fiddling with those flowers in the yard. You’d think her whole future was invested in those things, instead of keeping herself for me and the work at the market here. The way she works over ’em, digging and poking and—” He reached behind him, brought out a pail of fish guts. “She even buries this stuff under them, can you beat that?”

The witch smiled. “I told her it was good for them. Makes this sandy barren soil better, Ike. Let her play with her flowers if it gives her pleasure.”

Ike shrugged, then smiled. “What can I have the pleasure of getting for you today?”

“Nothing, my dear man. I just wanted to repeat what I told your lovely wife the other morning, how grateful I am for the kindness you show my greedy pet. She’s pampered beyond belief by you every single day. And I want to show you my thanks by bringing you something—”

Ike held out a broad palm. “Not necessary.” He ducked his head and grinned brightly. “Don’t bother yourself, we enjoy Jezebel, just as we enjoy you comin’ into the shop now and then. In fact—” he reached into a glass case and pulled out a fish fillet as big as a dinner plate. “You take this and have some nice fish for dinner tonight, on us. Our pleasure.”

The witch waited while he wrapped the fillet in white paper and tied it with string, then took it from him and tucked it tidily into her basket. “You’re a generous soul, Ike Elias. Many thanks. Well, I must be going. I should rush this fish home as fast as possible, it must be a hundred and one outside.” She smiled archly at Ike. “I wouldn’t want it to spoil.”

He held the shop door open for her, and she bustled away, leaving the fickle-hearted Jezebel still at her lunch inside, with Ike.

As she rounded the corner of the market, however, after a swift glance at the baking beach and boardwalk, she stepped off the boardwalk to a concrete path that ran behind the market. After peering through two small windows that flanked a narrow door, she found what she was after — the sight of Mrs. Elias, perspiring heavily and stabbing with a fork into the large plastic container of Ike’s hand-prepared lunch, which she held balanced on her knee. As the witch watched, she drank deeply from a large glass of iced liquid and sighed. She was sitting on a plywood crate as close to the window as possible to pick up the slightest breath of air that might stray into the dark room from outside.

The witch pecked at the screen with a long forefinger. Mrs. Elias jumped. “Yes?”

“Dear, aren’t you terribly hot in there? Why don’t you eat out front, where the air conditioning is?”

Mrs. Elias’s mouth twisted wryly. “Because it’s not good business to eat in front of the customers.”

“Who said?”

Mrs. Elias just shrugged.

“Ah, yes. Well, at the very least, don’t eat that stuff if you don’t want it. It can’t be settling on your poor stomach very well in the heat.”

“I, uh... I have to eat it. Ike gets very angry...” She cast a worried look into the gloom in the direction of the shop.

“What, does he check?”

She shrugged a shoulder, but nodded. The witch looked her over for a few moments, took in her pale drawn face, her bowed shoulders, and the deep circles beneath the large black eyes that used to flame and sparkle with temper. She had to remind herself of Mrs. Elias’s age... or lack of it.

“Look. I’m still going to bring your darling husband something to show my gratitude, but for you, my gift to you is to take something away. Let me have that.” With a swift motion, she pushed aside the screen on its hinge, and before Mrs. Elias could react, the entire contents of the box were dumped into the witch’s basket. “There.” She handed the empty plastic box back to the stunned Mrs. Elias.

“Men can be incredibly impractical at times,” the witch announced. “Now, don’t say anything to him about it, he means well and we must consider his feelings. Agreed?”

Mrs. Elias nodded, too stunned to speak. Her eyes were enormous, and glistened almost feverishly.

The witch looked her over, then said, “You receive your lunch from him every day around now?”

Mrs. Elias nodded.

“And he always inspects to make sure you finished it all?”

Mrs. Elias nodded again, still speechless.

“I’ll be here every day at this time. You wait for me if I’m late. Don’t eat this heavy mess until the heat wears off the summer, and I’m betting you’ll feel excellent for it.”

Mrs. Elias started to say something, but the witch held up her hand and said, “Hup! Never mind. See you here tomorrow. Not a word to Ike, remember.”