Flip the Witch Switch

by Amanda M. Lee

  “What about hot dogs?”

  “I’ll have beef hot dogs.”

  “Because you don’t care about cows as much as you do pigs?”

  “Because there are no cows running around the inn in tutus,” I replied without hesitation. “If that changes, beef might be off the menu, too.”

  “I guess I’ll have to make sure Aunt Tillie doesn’t get any more pets.” He finished his bacon and turned to the door when its bells jangled to signify someone entering. The half-smile he’d been entertaining slipped from his face when he recognized the woman standing in the doorway.

  “Mrs. Little,” I muttered, sinking lower in my seat. The woman was difficult to deal with on a normal day. For some reason, I just knew she was going to be impossible today. “If we’re quiet, maybe she’ll walk right past us.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky.”

  Sure enough, Mrs. Little stood in the middle of the diner scanning the patrons. When her eyes finally landed on us, she immediately started in our direction. “Oh, man.” I cut into my pancakes and shoved a huge mound of syrup-covered goodness into my mouth so I wouldn’t immediately have to speak to her.

  “Oh, good,” she announced as she stood next to the table. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Landon pointed at me, refusing to make eye contact as he sacrificed the woman he claimed to love to the whims of a crazed unicorn lover.

  “Well, both of you,” she said. “May I sit?” She gestured toward the side of the booth where Landon sat and I didn’t miss the momentary look of disgust that flashed over his face.

  “Why don’t you just tell us why you’re here?” Landon suggested. “We don’t have much time. We have to choke down our meals and run. I would hate to have to hurry you out of the booth.”

  She frowned, her forehead puckering. “I ... whatever.” She shook her head and planted her hands on the edge of the table as she leaned forward. “I want to make sure you’re aware of the story going around.”

  “You mean the story you’re telling people about a homeless person dying at the camp?” I asked, remembering that juicy tidbit from the night before.

  “That would be the one.”

  “What about it?” Landon asked as he flipped his egg whites onto a slice of toast and made an impromptu sandwich. He enjoyed mashing his food together into various combinations. We had that in common.

  “I want to make sure that’s the story that ends up in the newspaper.” Mrs. Little’s gaze was pointed directly at me.

  “I haven’t written a story yet,” I pointed out. “I have a few days.”

  “Yes, but I want to make sure the right story makes the newest edition.”

  I didn’t like her tone. “The right story is the truth,” I supplied. “I haven’t heard any confirmation that the deceased was homeless.” I looked to Landon for help. “Was she homeless?”

  “Not to our knowledge,” Landon replied dryly.

  Mrs. Little let loose an exasperated sigh. “Yes, well, I want to make sure that people believe she was homeless whether it’s the truth or not.”

  I had to give her credit. She never thought before she spoke. Even if she did, she simply didn’t care how ridiculous she sounded.

  “Well, I’m not printing something I know isn’t true,” I argued. “Right now I’m not writing anything because the newspaper isn’t going to print for several days and we’re still digging for information.”

  “When you go to print, she’d better be homeless. And make sure it’s written up as a tragic accident.”

  Her unmitigated gall made me want to smack her around … or hold her down while Aunt Tillie drew pornographic pictures on her face. What? Aunt Tillie really did that once. She tells the tale to this day. “I’m going to write the truth, no matter what it is.”

  Landon held up a hand before I could get up a full head of steam. “May I ask why you’re so concerned with this, Mrs. Little? It’s not as if Hemlock Cove is any stranger to murder ... or killers, for that matter. In fact, given the touristy makeup of the town, I actually think it might benefit you. What’s the deal?”

  “The deal is that I’m in negotiations to buy that particular piece of property,” Mrs. Little replied primly.

  “You are?” That was news to me. “Why? You don’t like the great outdoors.”

  “Definitely not,” Mrs. Little agreed. “I hate the great outdoors. However, Manistee Lake is growing in popularity and I have a development idea that could make me a lot of money. I want to build condos out there, the sort that people rent. I figure with the festivals we have here, I’ll make a lot of money.”

  Oh, well, that made sense. “Yeah, but Gertie doesn’t want to sell that property.” I thought of the woman we’d visited yesterday and felt a twinge. “That’s basically all she has left.”

  “She doesn’t have a choice.” Mrs. Little was blasé. “She owes back taxes on her own property and doesn’t have the money to pay them. She either loses her home or the camp.”

  “And don’t you sound excited about that prospect?” Landon wrinkled his nose as he leaned back in his seat. “Why would you want to ruin that piece of property with condos? That parcel could be so much more.”

  “Oh, it’s going to be more.” She looked a little too happy with herself, which turned my stomach. “There’s a lot of land to exploit out there. In addition to waterfront condos, I’m also going to design a second fairground. We need it for all the festivals we have. If we play our cards right, we’ll be able to host two festivals at a time.”

  That sounded like a horrible idea. “Why would you possibly want that?”

  “Because it’s a great idea.”

  “And because if she owns the land she can negotiate with the township to lease the land for a steep price,” Landon surmised. “She’ll be making money hand over fist.”

  “But only if I can swing a deal to buy the land from the bank,” Mrs. Little said. “That won’t happen if it’s mired in a murder investigation.”

  “Your concern warms my heart.” Landon wiped the corners of his mouth and then dumped the napkin on his plate. “Bay is a professional. She’ll write the truth. As for me, I’m not beholden to you. When we find the truth, that’s the story I will share. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  Mrs. Little’s eyes filled with fire. “It was a tragic accident.”

  “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Landon shot back. “Sadly, I don’t think it’s true.” He extended his hand across the table to me. “Come on, Bay. We have work to do.”

  LANDON WAS STILL FUMING when we reached the police station. Art and Evelyn Bishop were already seated in a conference room, though, so he didn’t get a chance to vent that frustration.

  He was a professional, smoothly transitioning from furious to sympathetic as he shook the Bishops’ hands. He introduced me, but was careful in explaining my presence. “She’s familiar with the area, attended the camp quite often as a child and is helping us with the geography.”

  The Bishops were so caught up in their own issues they barely noticed me.

  “I want to see my daughter,” Art announced.

  “I’m sure we can arrange that,” Landon said. “Right now she’s at the medical examiner’s office.”

  Evelyn was a pretty woman, short auburn hair brushing her shoulders as she pressed her shaking hands together. “I don’t understand how this happened. Are you sure it’s her?”

  “The fingerprints are a match,” Chief Terry said gently. “You filed fingerprints with the state police when you reported her missing.”

  “We did,” Evelyn confirmed. “I had her fingerprints taken through this event at school when she was little. It was in case she was ever taken. I didn’t think I’d actually have to use them.”

  “Well ... it helped us identify her quickly,” Chief Terry noted. “That’s little solace for you, but it could be important down the line.”

  “How?” Art challenged. His face was so red I worri
ed he was about to have a heart attack. He looked furious, as if he wanted to pick a fight, and there were limited options in the room at which to spew his despair.

  “Knowing her identity helps us track her movements,” Chief Terry said. “The thing is, I just got the preliminary autopsy results back from the medical examiner’s office. They’re still conducting tests — she was in very cold water, which means her body was frozen — and they’re still performing tissue and toxicology tests.”

  I spared a quick glance at Landon, who gave me a reassuring nod before focusing on Chief Terry.

  “There’s no easy way to say this,” Chief Terry started. “Your daughter was strangled and suffered blunt force trauma to the head. We believe she was in the water for six to eight weeks. Getting a firmer timetable is impossible at this point. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  I knew that Chief Terry had to deliver terrible news to people all the time. He made a point of keeping us away from that part of his job when we were younger, so I’d never really seen him deliver the news in such a fashion before. It was jarring.

  “She was murdered?” Tears flooded Evelyn’s eyes. “But ... who would do such a thing?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to ascertain,” Landon said. “What can you tell us about your daughter?”

  “What do you mean?” Art was bordering on belligerent. “Are you asking if she deserved what happened to her? She didn’t. She was a good girl. She never gave us a lick of trouble.”

  “We don’t blame the victim,” Landon offered “We’re trying to find out what happened to her so we can make the individual responsible pay. We need your help to do that. That includes giving us information.”

  Art straightened his shoulders and sucked in a shuddering breath. “Right. I ... right. What do you need to know?”

  “Well, for starters, I’m curious about what your daughter was doing here,” Chief Terry prodded. “Did she have ties to the area?”

  “Not that I know of,” Art replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared out the window. “You have to understand, Hannah was a free spirit. She was one of those kids who didn’t see danger. She was adventurous, always hopping on the next thing, and she loved traveling to different places.”

  “She once told me she would be happiest if she could hop a train that made one stop a day and allowed her to explore a different town at each stop, no matter how boring that town may be,” Evelyn volunteered. “I always pushed her to find a husband and settle down, to have kids. She said she was twenty-five and didn’t want to settle down. She also said she couldn’t see herself having kids.”

  “She was a free spirit,” Art repeated, his lower lip trembling. “She was a good girl who loved to have a good time.”

  “But what was she doing here?” Landon prodded. “Did she come to Hemlock Cove specifically?”

  “I don’t know,” Evelyn replied, shrugging. “She didn’t really say. She was writing a book. A Thousand Little Places. That’s what she was going to call it. She wanted to visit a thousand different small towns with unique offerings. She was starting in Michigan because that was closest ... and she always loved the things she read about Hemlock Cove.”

  “Like what?” Chief Terry asked.

  “She signed up for a subscription to the local newspaper,” Art replied, causing me to shift in my chair. “She got it weeks after the fact sometimes, but she didn’t care. She laughed at all the stories. She said there was a story in the town because they had a different festival every week.”

  Landon smiled. “That’s true. This town loves festivals. Do you know where she was supposed to stay when she arrived? There are about thirty inns and bed and breakfasts in the area. It would help if we could narrow it down.”

  “She didn’t say and we didn’t ask,” Evelyn replied. “She always had her cell phone and promptly returned calls and texts. That all stopped when she left home this last time. I know she hit Hemlock Cove. She said the town was just as great as she thought it would be. She didn’t tell us where she was staying, though. She didn’t tell us what she was looking at.

  “All she said was that the downtown was straight out of a movie and she was infatuated with the mythology that was being spun around her,” she continued. “You were having some festival. She didn’t tell us what you were celebrating. Maybe that can help narrow it down.”

  Landon looked to me for an answer.

  “Two months ago.” I racked my memory. “That would’ve been around the Lucky Leprechaun Festival.”

  “St. Patrick’s Day,” Chief Terry confirmed. “There was another smaller festival before it. There wasn’t one after it because we figured everyone would need a week to recover from the green wine Tillie sold.”

  I wanted to smile at the memory, but that seemed out of place. “So it had to be the Lucky Leprechaun Festival or the March Winds Witch Fest,” I murmured “I can go back through the photographs that were taken at both festivals to see if she’s in the crowd. I’ll need a photograph of her.” I felt like a jerk when I looked to the Bishops.

  “We have plenty of photos,” Art said dully.

  “Just so I’m clear, she wasn’t meeting anyone in this area, was she?” Chief Terry asked.

  Evelyn shook her head. “We would’ve been more comfortable if she had a travel buddy. She said she didn’t need one. In our minds she would’ve been safer. I guess it doesn’t matter now.” She chewed her lip as Art slipped his arm around her shoulders.

  “When can we take our daughter home?” Art asked. “We want to put her to rest.”

  “We’ll get you in touch with the medical examiner’s office,” Chief Terry promised. “They’ll be able to provide you with that information.”

  Eight

  Because it felt as if I was intruding on their grief, I left the Bishops to sob together, and invaded Chief Terry’s office. I sat at his computer, booted it, and then started searching for information on Hannah Bishop. I had an interesting idea of where to look.

  “What are you doing?” Landon asked when he tracked me down. He seemed surprised to find me behind Chief Terry’s desk.

  “I’m looking for Hannah on this internet message board,” I replied simply. “It’s for Michigan people who like to travel.”

  “How do you know about it?” Landon stepped closer, scanning the monitor over my shoulder. “How did you boot up his computer without a password?”

  Uh-oh. Any way I answered that was going to come off badly. “Oh, well ... .” I wasn’t sure how to respond. Because of that, I opted to change the subject. “When I was a teenager, I was a lot like Hannah. I wanted to travel the world. I wasn’t really interested in small towns, but I was interested in visiting a lot of places.”

  “Yeah?” Landon slid his gaze to me. “How about now?”

  “It’s funny. I thought I wanted to be anywhere but here growing up. It turns out I was wrong. I felt a little smothered with all the attention from my mother and aunts, but once I was out from under their roof most of that pressure went away. Besides, now I love this area.”

  “I love this area, too.” He kissed the top of my head. “Do you know what else I love?”

  I smiled indulgently. “What?”

  I expected him to respond with the word “you” or something flirty. Instead he merely grinned. “I love that you think avoiding the earlier question will make me forget I asked it. Seriously, how did you get Chief Terry’s password? His computer is supposed to be on a secure network.”

  Ugh. He just wasn’t going to let it go. “If you must know, I guessed it when I was a teenager and he never changed it.”

  “You guessed it? How?”

  “My name is part of the password ... along with Clove’s and Thistle’s. It only took me twenty tries to get it right.”

  “Oh, geez.” Landon rolled his neck. “You’re basically saying you hacked into the chief of police’s computer.”

  “That’s an ugly way to look at it,” I argued. “Besides, I’m not
doing anything bad. I’m just trying to see if I can find that travel chatroom again. I’m guessing Hannah visited a lot of those spots to talk with other like-minded individuals.”

  “Anything?”

  “Not so far.”

  Thankfully, further conversation about my hacking skills were off the table when Landon’s phone rang. He moved away from me to answer it, which allowed me the freedom to haunt my old online playground. Sure enough, I found a woman I was fairly certain was her within a few minutes. All I had to do was use “Hemlock Cove” as a search term. Believe it or not, it’s not a happening place with those who are internet savvy.

  “What are you doing?” Chief Terry asked as he strolled into the office, sparing a glance for Landon, who was still on the phone deep in conversation.

  “I remembered this old travel message board I used to hang around on when I was a kid,” I replied. “Look. Hannah B. I’m betting that’s Hannah Bishop. She said she had plans to visit Hemlock Cove and Hell before summer. She even mentions working on a book.”

  “Does she say anything of interest?”

  “I just found her. It will take a bit of time to go through all her posts. Oh, and thank you so much for commenting on my brilliance. Most people wouldn’t have thought to check on an old message board like this.” I tapped the side of my temple and winked. “Good thing I’m a brainiac, huh?”

  Chief Terry rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” He turned his attention to Landon, who was disconnecting from his call. “That sounded intense. What’s going on?”

  “First, did you know she hacked your computer as a teenager and can get on your computer whenever she wants?” Landon asked.

  “Hacked is the wrong word,” Chief Terry countered. “I keep my password taped to my desk in case I forget.”

  I pressed my lips together when Landon slid me a look.

  “You left out that part when relating your amazing password detection feats,” he smirked.

  “I didn’t think it was important,” I said. “Who was on the phone?”