A Breath of Witchy Air

by Amanda M. Lee

  “A real college?”

  “One where people graduate and make a lot of money right away.”

  I wasn’t sure “real” colleges – at least the ones in Viola’s mind – still existed. That was a side conversation that would be better shared at another time.

  “No, it’s a community college. No one can get a four-year degree there, but students can get the basics out of the way while saving money before transferring to a university.”

  “I only know that some of the oldsters at the center took computer classes and stuff,” Viola volunteered. “Donald Wingfield wanted to learn how to look up porn without catching a virus on his laptop, so he took a class.”

  I pressed my lips together, uncertain how to respond.

  “It didn’t really work the way he wanted,” Viola continued. “He still kept getting viruses, but he didn’t want to stop going to class because he liked ogling the young girls. He said they wore shorts so tiny you could actually see the promised land if you looked hard enough.

  “Of course, Donald had cataracts and I don’t think he was seeing what he thought he was seeing,” she continued. “But I never told him that. Every man needs a dream.”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I didn’t bother to hide my eye roll as I brought the college’s homepage up on my screen. “I’m trying to figure out if our killer is a student at the college or simply works in the area. What do you know about the location?”

  Viola adopted an intense look. “Well, if I remember correctly it was close to the Meijer and not far from that Mexican restaurant everyone loves.”

  “La Señorita.” I bobbed my head. “That’s a really good restaurant. I’ve been meaning to take Landon there. He loves Mexican food.”

  “If what Tillie says is true, the boy loves food no matter what kind it is. If I were you, I’d nip his penchant for eating in the bud, because he’s likely to spread so he’s wider than he is tall if you’re not careful.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said dryly, staring at the photos of the campus. “It looks really small. I think there are, like, four buildings.”

  “That sounds right. Donald said the computer lab was in the basement of whatever building he went to and they had English classes on the second floor and science classes on the first. He was upset because that meant he had to climb a lot of stairs if he wanted to see the English students.”

  “Why would he want to see the English students?”

  “Because that’s where the girls congregated. The boys took science classes and the girls took the creative writing classes.”

  “That sounds a bit sexist.”

  Viola shrugged. “Take it up with Donald. He’s the one who said it.”

  “Right.” I leaned back in my chair. “We have four dead girls. They were all students. This is a community college, so I think it’s fair to guess they were all under the age of twenty-one or so.”

  “And they were all murdered?”

  I nodded. “Their throats were slashed.”

  “Outside?”

  “Chief Terry doesn’t think so. He couldn’t find any traces of blood. Of course, given all the snow we’ve had they could’ve been killed outside and their bodies dumped twenty feet away and no one would be able to tell. We might never know.”

  “So what do you think is going on?” Viola seemed genuinely curious. “Do you think the killer is local?”

  That was a good question. “Everything I’ve read about serial killers indicates they like to hunt in places they’re comfortable. That means the killer probably lives in Gaylord.”

  “So why dump the bodies here? That’s almost a forty-minute drive.”

  “Maybe the killer thought they wouldn’t be discovered in Hemlock Cove. The entire area is surrounded by forest.”

  “Then why dump the bodies so close to the highway?” Viola challenged. “If he really didn’t want them to be discovered, wouldn’t he have taken them into the woods – maybe that area beyond the Hollow Creek, for example? Why leave them out in the open and in an area people drive by every day?”

  That was the question haunting me. “I don’t know.”

  “What are you going to do to find out?”

  “Research the girls.” That was the only answer I could come up with. “That makes the most sense. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll find a common thread that links them.”

  “You mean other than the college itself?”

  “Yeah. The college is small, but it feels big when trying to flush out a killer.”

  “So focus on the girls.” Viola seemed gung-ho for the endeavor. “You might luck out.”

  That’s what I was hoping for.

  THREE HOURS LATER I was no closer to answers and my lingering hangover headache was enough to make me irritable.

  “I hate this.” I pushed away from my desk and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t even know what I should be looking for.”

  “What did you find?” Viola remained silent during most of my research, floating in and out of the office as she got distracted. I was convinced she suffered from attention deficit disorder in life, which made her all the more annoying in death because she couldn’t float in the same location for more than five minutes. Inevitably, as irritating as I found her disappearances, she always returned to ask about what I’d discovered.

  “They were students. That’s all I know. They attended classes, although I have no idea what classes because I’m not privy to their schedules. All I could find is what they posted on Facebook. Funnily enough, none of them wanted to talk about school as much as they wanted to talk about boys and parties.”

  “I can see that. I’m old and that’s all I want to talk about.”

  “That’s because you’re an oversexed idiot,” Aunt Tillie announced, taking me by surprise when she slid into my office. “Most people are more well-mannered – and, well, smarter than you – so they don’t look at life the same way.”

  Viola made a face. She was often at odds with Aunt Tillie – they both liked a good game of war when boredom struck – but she was at a distinct disadvantage because she was dead, while Aunt Tillie remained thriving amongst the living.

  “When did you get here?” I asked, rubbing my forehead. “I didn’t even hear the front door open.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t locked. After the last incident – the one when people broke in and tried to kill you – I’d think you’d be more diligent about locking the door.”

  She had a point. Unfortunately it wasn’t one I wanted to dwell on, mostly because I knew if she brought it up in front of Landon he would agree with her and yell at me. “I’ll do better. I was distracted when I came in.”

  “You shouldn’t forget.” Aunt Tillie sat in the chair next to Viola and gave me a long look. “You’re frustrated.”

  “I’ve been conducting research on the dead girls. I haven’t come up with anything particularly useful. They all went to that small college in Gaylord. What do you know about it?”

  “I know it’s tiny and Donald Wingfield used to go there so he could learn how to avoid getting viruses on his computer while looking at porn.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve now heard that story twice today. I could’ve gone a lifetime without ever hearing it.”

  Aunt Tillie merely shrugged. “Live and learn, I guess.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I rolled my neck until it cracked. “It’s one of those transitional schools where students get through the basics – like English, science and math requirements – before transferring to a bigger school to focus on their majors. I think that probably means the student body is fluid and changes quite often.”

  “I think you’re right,” Aunt Tillie agreed. “The thing is, I’m guessing all those girls were killed recently. That means this semester, which probably started right after Christmas break. That was only a few weeks ago.”

  “And if the killer was there before, he probably would’ve started dropping bodies before
then,” I mused. “That’s a very good point.”

  “I’m full of them. Plus, well, I watch a lot of crime shows on television. I’m practically an investigator myself. I could totally be an FBI agent professionally if I wanted, which I don’t, because it’s a stupid profession and I don’t want to be ‘The Man.’”

  “At least you’re thinking.” I navigated around Abby Kennish’s Facebook page. “I only have names for three of the victims, but I’ve checked their Facebook pages. They all had jobs – at different places – and they took three to five classes a week at the school.

  “It’s different from when I was in college,” I continued. “They take a lot of their classes online and don’t even have to visit the school in person. I would think that narrows the locations where they could’ve encountered a killer.”

  “Still, the killer must have ties to the school,” Aunt Tillie pressed. “Those girls were all students. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “We don’t know about the fourth girl. They haven’t identified her yet.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s a pattern,” Aunt Tillie noted. “I think it’s enough of a pattern to emit warning signals. A killer is either hanging around that campus because he’s a student or professor, or he hangs out somewhere else where the students congregate.”

  I was intrigued by the notion. “Like where?”

  “A coffee shop would be a good place to start.”

  I nodded. “I like the way your mind works. It’s too cold to hang out on the campus, but if there’s a coffee shop close a lot of students hang out there to work on their assignments and gossip. A community college doesn’t have fraternity houses for parties and the like. Caffeine is universal.”

  “It is.” Aunt Tillie preened. She loved being right. “So, um, when do we leave?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Excuse me? When does who leave?”

  “You and me.”

  “And where are we going?”

  “To the college, of course.” Aunt Tillie had no intention of backing down. “You’re going there to question people and I’m going with you to help.”

  That sounded like an absolutely terrible idea. “And why would you want to do that?”

  “Because it’s winter and I’m bored. I’ve already plowed in Margaret’s driveway twice today. I waited until that company she hired to handle her snow left and then I plowed her in before she could even sneak out. It was fun, but I can’t make a whole day of it.”

  That sounded just like Aunt Tillie. “Well … I’m not sure taking you to the college with me is a good idea,” I hedged. “I mean, what will you do there?”

  “We’re going to find a murderer.”

  “We? Since when are you on the investigative team?”

  “Since I want to find the animal who killed those girls and dumped them next to the road like they were garbage.”

  She was so serious I couldn’t stop myself from giving in. “Okay. If you want to go with me, I won’t stop you. I ask the questions, though. If you do it, you’ll scare them off.”

  “Oh, whatever!” Aunt Tillie folded her arms over her chest. “You seem to forget that I have a way with younger people. They like me. No, they love me. They think I’m the greatest thing in the world because I say whatever comes to mind. I’m also young at heart. I’ll probably do better with them than you will.”

  I didn’t believe that for a second. “I’ll do the talking. That’s the only way I’ll agree to take you with me.”

  “I don’t need your permission.”

  “You need a ride.”

  “I have a plow truck.”

  “Which you technically drive illegally, a fact everyone in Hemlock Cove ignores,” I reminded her. “The state police and Gaylord locals won’t give you a pass simply because you’re Aunt Tillie.”

  “I’ve got twenty bucks that says otherwise.”

  She was clearly spoiling for a fight and I considered giving in before shaking my head. “I will drive and oversee the questions. If you don’t like that, you don’t need to come.”

  Aunt Tillie stared me down for a long moment. “Fine. I agree to your terms.”

  “Great.” I closed my laptop and stood. “We need to stop at the pharmacy to grab some aspirin. This headache refuses to budge and it’s a doozy.”

  “Do you know what’s funny?” Aunt Tillie’s expression told me she was about to say something I wouldn’t find funny in the least. “I have a hangover remedy … and it’s even handy. I might have a dose in my purse.” She rummaged in her oversized bag and came back with a small vial. “This is guaranteed to cure whatever ails you – as long as it’s alcohol-related – within twenty minutes. I made a batch of this potion right before Christmas because I knew you lot would drive me to want to drink more than usual.”

  She wasn’t wrong. I held out my hand expectantly. “Then give it to me.”

  “I can’t give it to you unless you’re willing to let me be an active part of the investigative team.”

  I should’ve expected this. The woman was nothing if not a master at shaking people down. “Aunt Tillie … .”

  “I won’t share unless you do.” She was firm. “I want to help, but I’m not going to live my life by your rules.”

  I heaved out a sigh, defeated. She’d won. We both knew it. “Fine. But if you scare the students I’ll be really angry.”

  Aunt Tillie chuckled. “I’ll win them over with my charming personality. Just you wait.”

  “I look forward to seeing you work your magic.”

  Seven

  The closest coffee shop to the school was packed. We drove around the campus – which essentially consisted of two parking lots that were mostly empty, four classroom buildings and what looked to be a computer lab – and found nothing of interest, so the coffee shop was our next stop.

  It was a large building, with multiple tables and electrical outlets, but the business was surprisingly quiet when we walked through the door.

  “Hmm.” I let my gaze bounce from group to group. Some of the students – and I was certain most of the customers were indeed students – typed away on their laptops, perhaps working on assignments or toiling on something else entirely. The rest of those congregated at tables appeared to be looking at their phones.

  “It’s like a scene from Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” Aunt Tillie noted, tilting her head to the side as she removed her gloves. “I think they’re pod people.”

  I wanted to argue the point, but couldn’t. “Yeah. What do you think they’re looking at?”

  “Porn.” The answer rolled easily off her tongue.

  I cocked a challenging eyebrow. “You think they grouped together in a coffee shop so they could all look at porn in a public place?”

  “You can look at porn anywhere.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I heard it from the guests. They always want to know if we have Wi-Fi and it’s not because they want to check the weather. It’s because they want to look at porn.”

  I doubted that was true, but now didn’t seem the time to argue. “Well, I think they’re looking at something else.” I shoved my gloves in my pocket as I headed toward the counter, doing my best to look at screens as I passed. I furrowed my brow when I realized the first three screens all seemed to show the same thing, some sort of game. The bright colors and hopping characters were a dead giveaway. “That’s weird.”

  “What’s weird?” Aunt Tillie joined me at the counter. “I want a venti mocha, half-caf with a full-caf twist after the fact, and two jolts of chocolate. Oh, I’m watching my fat intake, so I want it with soy milk.”

  I ignored the part about “half-caf with a full-caf twist” because it made no sense and wrinkled my nose. “Since when do you drink soy milk?”

  “The people on the internet say it will help you live forever, and that’s my new goal.”

  “Well, as long as you have a reason.” I placed our orders and directed Aunt Tillie toward a tabl
e in the thick of things, making sure to look at a few more phone screens before settling. Once we were comfortable and Aunt Tillie was focused on her drink, I told her what I’d seen. “I think they’re playing a game.”

  “A game?” Aunt Tillie wasn’t impressed with the observation. “What kind of game? Is it a porn game?”

  I shook my head. “Why must every other word out of your mouth have to be ‘porn?’ People will think you’re a pervert.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  “It’s not a porn game. I’m not sure what it is.”

  “So ask.” Aunt Tillie wasn’t one for playing the long game. If she was searching for information, she was going to get it by any means necessary. She had no intention of waiting for it.

  Aunt Tillie leaned over to watch a young man – he couldn’t have been more than nineteen – as he focused on his phone. She stared at the screen for a moment before speaking. “What are you playing?”

  The kid didn’t immediately answer, instead pretending he didn’t hear the question as his fingers deftly moved over the screen.

  “What are you playing?” Aunt Tillie repeated, this time much louder. When he still didn’t answer, she lost her patience. “What are you playing?” She practically screamed the question into his ear, causing him to jolt.

  “It’s a game,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning crimson as he glanced around. “I’m playing a game.”

  “I figured that out myself,” Aunt Tillie said dryly. “What kind of game?”

  “You catch stuff – creatures and stuff.” The guy looked decidedly uncomfortable. “You have balls and weapons, and you catch animals and stuff. You compete against other players. It’s new.”

  Hmm. That explained a few things, although it didn’t answer all my questions. “And everyone is playing it?” I gestured toward the multitude of people focusing on their phones.

  “Anyone who is cool,” the kid replied. “Everyone I know plays.”

  Aunt Tillie snorted. “They must have changed the definition of ‘cool’ since I was in school. I never knew anyone to say that it was cool to sit around in public and stare at your phone.”