Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set

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Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set Page 9

by Amanda M. Lee


  I shifted my eyes to the busy downtown street. Even though the weather wasn’t warm, the area bustled with activity. “I’d rather wait until we’re alone. I’m not ready to risk doing something in public. At least not yet.”

  “That’s a very mature decision.”

  “That’s me. Mrs. Maturity.”

  Landon grinned as he planted a firm kiss on my mouth and drew me in for a long hug. “You’re awesome no matter how you approach things, Bay,” he whispered before kissing my cheek. “You’re doing remarkably well under difficult circumstances.”

  “I feel a bit overwhelmed.” It was hard to admit. “I’ll get through it. Maybe the key is to focus on one thing at a time.”

  “That’s a solid plan.” He gave me another kiss before releasing me. “We’ll head over to the Wheeler house and check on them so you don’t have to worry about that situation. Keep in contact and we’ll get dinner together later, okay?”

  I nodded. “I already feel better. Although ... I’m grossed out about Mike sleeping with his clients. Do you think he slept with more than one of them?”

  “I think that’s a likely possibility.”

  The ick factor doubled. “Keep me updated.”

  “Always.”

  I was feeling better, light even, when I slid through the door and headed down the sidewalk. I was lost in my own little world, plans for a romantic evening that involved nothing but relaxation and maybe a bath flitting through my head, when I smacked into an unsuspecting figure that I didn’t see until I was already upon it.

  “I am so sorry,” I sputtered as I attempted to stay on my feet. “I didn’t see you.”

  “It’s okay. I wasn’t looking either.”

  The voice was female, and when I righted myself, the feelings from seconds before evaporated as I came face to face with Melanie Adams.

  “Oh, hi.” I felt like an idiot as I blinked and stared.

  “Hello, Bay.” Melanie’s smile was warm as she looked me up and down. “It’s nice to see you.”

  I could think of a few other words to describe our interaction. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Tense. “It’s nice to see you, too,” I offered, although I didn’t mean it. “I’m so sorry for smacking into you that way. I didn’t hurt you, did I? I was lost in my own little world and not paying attention. It’s on me.”

  “I wasn’t paying attention either,” Melanie argued. “You’re not the only one at fault. In fact, since neither of us is hurt there’s no reason to blame anyone. No harm, no foul, right?”

  I nodded. “Right.”

  “Good.”

  We lapsed into uncomfortable silence, something I was desperate to escape. “So, I should be heading back to the newspaper office,” I said lamely. “I only stopped by to share information with Landon and Chief Terry.”

  “Do you have to go right now?”

  “Well ... .”

  “It’s just that I was hoping we could get some coffee.” She gestured toward the bakery down the street. “I’ve been hoping to get a chance to talk to you and this seems as good a time as any.”

  I had other ideas, but since she put me on the spot I figured only one answer was acceptable. “Coffee sounds great.”

  MRS. GUNDERSON WAS WORKING behind the counter when we entered. She waved when she saw me and gestured toward a clean table. I slid into a chair and nervously ran my hands over my knees as Melanie sat across from me.

  “So, this is weird, huh?” Melanie appeared as nervous as I felt as she slipped out of her jacket. “You don’t like me, do you?”

  I wasn’t expecting the question. “I don’t know you.”

  “That wasn’t really an answer.”

  “I just meant that I can’t dislike someone I don’t know,” I said hurriedly. “I don’t know you, so it’s impossible to dislike you.”

  “Anything is possible. Also, ‘like’ is probably the wrong word. You’re right about not knowing me. Still, I want us to be friends.”

  It was a simple statement, yet it irked all the same. “Why?” I blurted out. “Why do you care if I like you? I mean ... I don’t dislike you. There’s no reason to worry about that. You seem invested in me liking you, though, and I don’t understand the reasoning.”

  “Really?” Melanie arched an eyebrow and shifted her hair over her shoulder. “Terry loves you.”

  “We’re close.”

  “He thinks of you as a surrogate daughter,” Melanie pressed. “He told me that himself, in case you’re wondering. He talks about you all the time. He tells stories about when you and your cousins were little, the adventures you went on. He tells other stories about when you were teenagers and the trouble you found.

  “For every three stories he tells, you’re the lead in at least one of them,” she continued. “Sometimes it’s you and your cousins. Sometimes it’s your mother and her sisters and how they reacted to something you did. Sometimes it’s you and Landon. You’re always there and close to the surface.”

  I swallowed hard. “My father left when I was a kid,” I explained. “All our fathers left. They claimed it was because of Aunt Tillie ... but that’s not really important. They were gone.”

  “My understanding is that they’re back now.”

  “They are, and we see them.”

  “You’re still close with Terry, though.”

  “He’ll always be part of my life.” I decided to put everything out there. There was no point in holding back. “He took care of me when I was a kid and going through some things. He was always there when we needed him.

  “He got us a dog for Christmas one year, He was dressed as Santa when he did it,” I continued. “He spent a lot of time with us. Aunt Tillie is a piece of work and she always dragged us with her when she was looking for trouble. Chief Terry was always there to get us out of it, make sure we knew the difference between right and wrong.”

  “Yes, I believe I’ve heard some of those stories.” Melanie’s smile was soft. “Something about torturing Margaret Little and having to carry all three of you through waist-high snow at the same time. He laughs when he tells the story.”

  “I laugh whenever I think of that story,” I admitted. “Anyone else would’ve made us wade through the snow on our own because we were technically breaking the law.”

  “He’s not just anyone.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  Melanie sucked in a breath. “I like him a great deal, Bay. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks, but he’s a lovely man. Did he tell you how we met?”

  “He hasn’t told me anything about you.”

  I didn’t miss the quick burst of disappointment that flashed across Melanie’s face. “Nothing?”

  “I haven’t seen much of him the past two weeks,” I offered quickly. “I thought it was weird that he hadn’t been around. I’ve been dealing with some stuff, though — Landon and I are painting and arranging offices — and I didn’t think much about it. I guess he was with you.”

  “We met at my yoga studio,” she offered. “I came into work one morning and the back door had been kicked in. There was nothing worth stealing inside. The only things missing were two yoga mats. Still, for insurance purposes, I had to file a report. He was the one who took the call.

  “I thought it was odd that the police chief came out for a simple breaking and entering,” she continued. “At first I thought it was because the department was so small, but then I realized he’s simply the sort of man who would never ask others to complete a task he wasn’t willing to take on himself.”

  “No,” I agreed. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “We got to talking and he made me laugh. He’s very funny, but I’m sure you already know that.”

  “I know.”

  “He didn’t ask me out,” Melanie continued. “I asked him. He seemed surprised when I extended the invitation. His first inclination was to say no, but something inside told me I didn’t want to pass up this opportunity so I asked a second time and he said yes.

&
nbsp; “We had coffee at the little place down the road from my studio,” she said. “We talked for hours. We had a great time. He didn’t ask for a second date. I did. I asked him to dinner. We went and had a wonderful time. It was only when he was dropping me off at my house after that date that he finally asked me out.”

  It was a sweet story, but it made me uncomfortable. “I’m not sure he would want you telling me this.”

  “I have every intention of telling him about our conversation,” Melanie said. “He knows I want to get close to you, form a bond of sorts. He told me not to push you, but when I saw you in front of the police station I figured this was my chance. He probably won’t be happy when he hears, but I’m not sorry I pushed the issue.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so keen to get me on your side,” I admitted. “Why is that important to you?”

  “Because Terry loves you. I hope that one day he and I will be able to get to that point ourselves, but it’ll never happen if you’re throwing up roadblocks.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. I could tell that seeing me with Terry last night upset you.”

  “It surprised me,” I corrected. “I don’t do well with change. It’s not that I dislike you.” It’s that I wanted him for my family, I silently added. I couldn’t tell her that. I would look petulant ... and infuriate my mother in the process if she ever found out. “I’m fine getting to know you. I want Chief Terry to be happy. He smiled all through dinner last night. You’re obviously a welcome presence in his life.”

  “I don’t want to remove him from your life, Bay,” Melanie said gently. “He wouldn’t allow that even if I tried. I’m not an adversary. I simply want to find a way to share him.”

  She sounded reasonable, which only served to bother me more. I wasn’t used to reasonable people, so I stole a line from Landon’s repertoire to hold her off. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “We should start by getting to know one another,” I suggested as Mrs. Gunderson signaled that she was bringing coffee. “Tell me about yourself. I’m dying to hear ... everything.”

  Nine

  I wasn’t exactly unsettled after coffee with Melanie. I wasn’t thrilled with the turn of events either.

  She was a perfectly nice woman who wanted to make Chief Terry happy. I loved him, so I wanted him happy. I simply failed to see why he couldn’t be happy with someone in my family, or why I had to share.

  After realizing that I was being absolutely ridiculous, I closed The Whistler office and left for the day to wallow in shame at home. I knew I was being something of a jerk, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Chief Terry had made the worst possible choice.

  I texted Landon and told him I would be home early. He asked if I was sick — something I denied — and then promised to join me as soon as his schedule cleared. I had every intention of looking inward to quell my childish leanings when I hit the guesthouse. That should’ve involved meditating, but I was thinking of watching Netflix instead. I didn’t get a chance, because a stack of photo albums on the shelf caught my attention and I couldn’t stop myself from grabbing them.

  I flipped through the books until I found the one I was looking for. I was barely a teenager, fourteen and still figuring out the world. I was almost thirty now and I was still figuring out the world. Fourteen-year-old Bay was a mess. She was sick of being looked at as different and terribly afraid she would go through life with people pointing, laughing and ultimately screaming “witch.”

  I was over most of that. Sure, the necromancer thing threw me for a loop, but in hindsight I wondered if I shouldn’t have seen it coming. There were signs that I was growing more powerful. I simply didn’t see them for what they were. And now, looking back, I felt like an idiot for not recognizing what was happening.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jolted when Hopper materialized, clutching the photo album to my chest and glancing up from the floor where I sat cross-legged. “You need to learn to knock.”

  “I have no corporeal hands.” As if to prove it, he mimed smacking me across the face. Thankfully I didn’t flinch. “I can’t knock.”

  “Then you need to make a doorbell sound when you’re coming in,” I countered, frustrated.

  “I can do that.” Hopper smiled as he lowered himself to the floor and sat across from me. “What are you looking at?”

  “Photos from when I was a kid.” I turned back to my task, something occurring to me. “You had to go to school to be a therapist, right?”

  “I did.”

  “Why did you focus on couples?”

  “I’m a fool for love.”

  I made a face. “Did you have sex with Maxine Wheeler as therapy?”

  Instead of reacting with embarrassment — or lying, which is what I would’ve done in his position — Hopper nodded. “I did. She was bored with her marriage and believed there were thrills to be found elsewhere. She said Jonathan had lost sight of her, was no longer in love with her, and they were simply two people sharing the same roof. She felt she was missing something. I wanted to show her what she was missing.”

  “And you thought she was missing your penis?”

  “You’re looking at this in a simplistic manner when you should be looking at it as one of those panoramic photos that moves when you turn your camera.” His tone was reasonable, which only served to irritate me more. “If you’re standing still, you can’t possibly see everything.”

  “Yeah, you can dress it up however you want, but you took advantage of Maxine,” I argued. “I’m not saying she was right — it’s never okay to cheat on your significant other — but you’re supposed to be the expert and you purposely led her astray.”

  “It’s a legitimate treatment.”

  “You just wanted to get your rocks off. Admit it.”

  “I did nothing of the sort.”

  I didn’t believe him. “How many other couples did you ‘treat’?”

  “Only those who needed a boost of their excitement factor.”

  “So ... all of them?”

  Hopper’s eyes momentarily flashed with something I couldn’t quite identify. He shuttered it quickly, but I saw a glint of something dark before he managed to blank his face, and I couldn’t help but wonder if we were somehow missing something when it came to his death.

  “I don’t have to put up with this,” Hopper snapped, mimicking brushing off his clothing as he stood. He had a lot of fussy mannerisms he was holding onto from life. It was both intriguing and annoying. “I worked hard for my clients and I don’t need you casting judgment on me. You have no idea how many couples I’ve helped.”

  Landon picked that moment to arrive, his eyebrows winging up when he saw Mike. I wasn’t sure how much of the conversation he’d heard, but Landon didn’t look happy with our visitor. “Oh, look,” he drawled. “It’s the pervy psychiatrist.”

  “I prefer the term therapist,” Hopper snapped. “And, as I was just explaining to your girlfriend, I don’t have to take this. I’m dead. I can go wherever I want.”

  “Not if I force you to stay,” I challenged, taking control of my new power and glaring. “We both know I can make you stay.”

  Hopper frowned. “I see someone is getting a bit too big for her britches. I understand you’ve had a rough couple of days and you’re feeling out of sorts because you don’t like your father figure’s new girlfriend and you’re upset that your younger cousin is getting married before you. Perhaps we should focus on those issues instead of your need to take out your aggression on me.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I am not jealous of Clove. I wish people would stop saying that.”

  “They’re saying it because it’s obvious.”

  “Whatever.” I dragged a hand through my hair and glanced at Landon, who was watching me with unveiled interest. “What? Do you think I’m jealous of Clove, too?”

  “I t
hink jealous is one of those words middle-school girls whip out to win a fight,” Landon replied as he stripped out of his coat and kicked off his shoes. “I do think you might be slightly out of sorts because they’ve set a date. We’ll talk about that tonight.”

  Oh, well, great. He had his stern face on. That meant he was going to dig his heels in and fight if I didn’t agree to spill my guts. “I’m not jealous.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  I glowered at Hopper. “He’s a pervert, by the way. He won’t admit it, but I’m pretty sure he had sex with most of his clients.”

  “And on that note ... .” Hopper absently brushed at his ethereal arms. “I have someplace to be. I’ll be around when you stop taking out your misery on others and want to talk about your issues.”

  “I don’t have any issues other than you being a pervert.”

  “You have so many issues we’d need a year of therapy to get through them,” he shot back. “I have other things to worry about. Next time you call, make sure you have something substantial to discuss.”

  “I didn’t call you this time.”

  “You certainly did.”

  “I did not!”

  “Then why did I hear your disembodied voice calling to me?”

  “Because you’re a tool.”

  “Okay, I think this conversation has gone on long enough.” Landon stepped between us. “Dr. Hopper, I think you should take a breather and do ... whatever it is you do when you’re not driving Bay batty. I will take over her therapy session from here.”

  Hopper shot Landon a withering look. “Good luck.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Landon waited until the ghost disappeared to fix his full attention on me. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “What makes you think anything is going on?” I challenged, suddenly defensive. “I’m sitting here minding my own business.”

  “Right.” Landon lowered himself to the floor and rested his back against the couch, pressing his thigh against mine as he got comfortable. “What are you looking at?”

 

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