Jasper gave me a sidelong look. “Why would you think that?”
I scuffed my foot on the ground, feeling nervous. “Oh, no reason.”
He gave me a strange look and said, “I’m definitely for Liam. You, Charlie, and Greer are helping him, after all. I’m sure he can’t go wrong.”
I was about to get into my car when Jasper caught my hand. Shock waves raced up my arm as if I’d just been electrocuted, my eyes widened in surprise, my cheeks warmed. Jasper touching me was everything I had imagined it would be. Judging by his intense expression, he was feeling some of the same strong emotions.
What did it mean? I had no idea.
When he didn’t immediately relinquish my hand, I tried to laugh it off. “Anything else? Want to tell me to stay away?”
“I would never tell you that,” he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
Oh boy. I was in big trouble.
“What, then?” I said. We were standing inches apart, and he was still holding my hand, making it very hard for me to concentrate on anything other than his broad chest and how loud my breathing must be.
“You’re out here alone at night. I notice you do that. It’s none of my business what you’re doing, it’s just . . . be careful, okay?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. Maybe he was worried about my trespassing and possibly injuring myself on his property. That was a lawsuit waiting to happen, but it didn’t seem to be the reason he was asking me to be careful. That only left the craziest of all crazy, that the corporate suit cared about me.
I gave him a quick nod and a smile, because if I looked up into those green eyes for much longer I wouldn’t be able to drive home.
Then I left.
Chapter Twenty
My phone dinged with a text just as I arrived at the farmhouse. I was still tingling from my Jasper encounter, but I was excited to see a text from Liam. The message was to all three of us, saying that he was feeling better about his prospects of winning. He was going to make one more effort to find the ball gowns of his dreams, stupid newspaper articles be damned.
Smiling, I got out of the Beetle. As usual, the ghosts were out in the yard in force. The tea ladies were pretending to drink tea. Mr. Bone was sitting on the porch whittling something. But strangely, there was no sign of the birds or mice or other little critters. I walked up to Mr. Bone and asked how his night was going.
He chuckled, “It’s been great, actually. I’m loving all the excitement around here. Not that when your grandmother was here there wasn’t anything exciting, and I sure do miss her, but recently there’s been a lot of entertainment during your mysterious cases.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting down next to him on the porch. I must have flinched as the porch creaked and leaned a little further sideways, because Mr. Bone looked at me out of the corner of his eye and said, “You’re going to have to fix that soon, you know.”
“The porch is fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
Mr. Bone shrugged. “Do you know a dog named Funnel?” he said. Should it have seemed strange that Mr. Bone didn’t have to confirm that we were talking about a ghost animal? Maybe, but it wasn’t.
“Yes, he lives at the cemetery,” I said. “We met him when we were looking into Gracie Coswell’s disappearance.”
“He came for a visit tonight,” said Mr. Bone.
“What did he want?” I said. Thoughts of Jasper were pushed to the back of my mind.
“He wanted to talk to you, but unfortunately Paws got him first. I think they’re chasing each other out back now. They should be done soon,” said Mr. Bone.
“Should I go back there?” The cat and the dog weren’t exactly fond of each other. Funnel had tried to be nice to Paws until he realized that, well, there was no point.
“Leave them alone for a few minutes. It’ll probably do them good,” said Mr. Bone. “Work out some energy.”
Sure enough, after a couple of minutes of waiting in the clear cold night air, I saw Funnel and Paws come around the corner. Actually, they raced around the corner, but when they caught sight of me they tried to slow to a respectable and stately pace, as if they hadn’t been racing at all. I let them pretend, it was more fun that way.
“Good evening,” said Funnel. He loped toward me, his old greyhound ears swinging wildly.
“Same to you,” I said, smiling. As usual, Paws looked annoyed, but I ignored him.
“What brings you to the farmhouse?” I said. Paws rolled his eyes. He couldn’t imagine a world where we were polite to dogs.
“I actually had something to tell you. A ghost showed up at the cemetery yesterday saying he urgently needed to speak to you. He isn’t from around these parts. We told him to come to the farmhouse directly, but he didn’t think he’d make it this far. I always wanted to come this way, despite your cat, so I offered to make the trek and let you know. Figured you might be willing to pay another visit to the cemetery. Maybe you could even stay for one of the dances. It’s a rip-roaring good time.”
“Very good of you to come. Did he say what he wanted to talk to me about?” I asked.
Ghosts from other towns didn’t often come around and ask to speak to the witch of the town they were visiting, it just wasn’t done.
“He said he’d only talk to you. He was nice enough, but very concerned about speaking with you,” said Funnel, sitting down in the grass and wagging his tail.
“I’m really busy, but I’ll try to make it over sometime soon. I don’t know that I can handle another case right now, though,” I said. My mind was already swirling with everything I had to do.
“But you will try to come soon?” said Funnel.
“I’ll try to come soon,” I said. Paws rolled his eyes again., I wanted to say to him. I couldn’t help it, the image just made me grin. Paws’ eyes became slits, and I tried desperately to get my mouth to shape up into something serious.
After Funnel had departed with a pleasant goodbye for me and Mr. Bone, Paws jumped onto my lap asking to be petted. I obliged, because it meant we finally had a chance to discuss the case.
“Got any sage wisdom?” I said to him.
“Everything I say falls under the sage wisdom heading. Sage wisdom, breakfast edition, sage wisdom, hair care, and so on,” said Paws. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Mr. Bone had wandered off to talk to the tea ladies, so it was just the two of us. “We’ve now learned more about Kayla’s death,” I said, “but we aren’t any closer to discovering who killed her, and we’re running out of time.”
“Well, you know Mrs. Luke won’t talk to you, and you know her sister Mary withheld information,” said the cat. “Those are both good places to start. Mrs. Luke just shows downright rational judgment, if you ask me. It’s not something to hold against her.”
I shook my head, thinking about it as I continued to rub between his ears. I still thought Mrs. Luke was the key, if only I could find a way to get her to talk to me. Mrs. Barnett had suggested that I needed to find someone she trusted, but I didn’t know who that would be. Charlie was a reporter and good at getting people to talk, but if Mrs. Luke only trusted people she knew, that didn’t do us much good.
As I pondered the problem, Charlie came outside waving a piece of paper.
“I have something to read to you,” she said, snapping her fingers as if to say, “On the double!”
Paws took the opportunity to jump off my lap. The birds had returned, having stayed in hiding while the silly dog and cat fought, and now Paws wanted to chase them. I called out a goodnight and he stuck up his tail at me.
Following Charlie inside, I was relieved to feel the warmth of the living room on this chilly night. The cold had set me snuffling like an elephant, and I grabbed a tissue as soon as I saw a box within reach. My nose was probably such a bright red that I’d give Rudolf a run for his money.
The house was cozy in the evenings (we ignored the draft), and tonight was no exception. Even better, the smell of f
reshly baked bread was wafting from the kitchen.
“Greer, have I told you how happy I am that you live with me?” I called to her.
“Feel free to tell me as often as you like,” said Greer from the kitchen. “Tell Charlie too when she gets on one of her Roommate Rules kicks.”
For once, and contrary to her recent mood, Charlie wasn’t acting stressed. She’d had almost as bad a week as I had, but now she was perfectly calm, almost happy. I couldn’t wait to find out why.
“First, can I run something by you?” I said. Charlie was clutching the paper in her hand for dear life, and I knew that once she got going the train would have left the station.
“Sure,” she said, sitting as near the fire as she liked to go and wiggling until she was comfortable.
“I need to find a way to talk to Mrs. Luke. She won’t talk to me. Mrs. Barnett told me to find somebody she knew, someone she’d be comfortable divulging information to, but I have no idea how to do that,” I said.
Charlie was smiling and nodding, her eyes shining. “I’ve actually been thinking about that, and I have an idea.”
“What’s your idea?” I said.
She waved the piece of paper in her hand. “Just listen to this: ‘The town of Mintwood has been thrown into turmoil by the Display-Window-Off to end all Window-Offs, the competition to an end all competitions! Who will win? Who will be the victor, and who will be left in the dust? All these questions and more will be answered come Friday!’”
Greer stuck her head out of the kitchen, “Who wrote that?”
“Hansen Gregory.” She looked at me and smiled. “I think he might be just what we need to get an interview with Mrs. Luke.”
Turned out Charlie’s idea tied in well with mine. Charlie wanted to bring Hansen into the fold, so to speak. Invite him to parlay, make a deal, have a chat. Hansen clearly wanted the scoop, and Charlie had the scoop. She had Mary, who was going to give her an exclusive interview. She also had faith that I would find out who the murderer was before Hansen could, so she’d scoop him twice. All she had to do was bide her time.
“He clearly doesn’t have enough going on in his own town, he has to bother ours. Still, he’s very good at his job, and in this case we need him. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to talk to Mrs. Luke, and I feel certain that he knows her, because he’s a reporter in Caedmon and I think he’s made it his job to know everyone – like when he mowed the library’s lawn. He also probably trims her trees or some ingratiating crap like that.”
“You can’t tell him I’m a witch,” I warned.
Charlie waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. I’m going to tell him that you like mysteries plain and simple, and he can’t ask questions about it. We local reporters are used to shady things like that. Then I’m going to tell him that we get to talk to Mary together after the case is solved. I think he’ll like that. Otherwise he doesn’t get any scoop.”
Finally, I was going to talk with Mrs. Luke.
Chapter Twenty-One
Before I could watch Charlie engage in the battle of her career with a strategic, talented, and capable opponent, who was otherwise matchless in local journalism, or as his mother probably called him, Hansen, we had to go and help Liam at the shop.
While Charlie went to work, Greer and I were going to the Twinkle Costume Shop to help with the window decorations – again. Liam was trying to stay positive, but he was becoming more and more concerned. He had all the elements of a great window display except for his centerpiece. He had a vision, but the reality wasn’t living up to it. He needed dresses! Gorgeous, glorious, cascading dresses of pure sumptuous silk. His heart was set on having dresses of the highest caliber. What else was he supposed to do? Display old books? Unlikely!
And so it was that after breakfast, Greer and I drove downtown to see him.
The day was bright and cold, with sweeping gusts of wind that were far too cold for the season. At least the sun was out, I told myself as I tried to avoid the gusts while simultaneously sticking my face up into the sunshine. We did have the misfortune of running into Lindsay as we walked along Main Street. The cold not only froze me, but also left me open to community encounters of the Lindsay kind.
“Danger, incoming, head left to avoid,” said Greer.
“Wait? What?” I said, looking around confused. I had been so busy keeping my chin warm that I had taken my eyes off the ball – er, sidewalk.
Greer growled in frustration, because by that time Lindsay had spotted us and was waving brightly. “The nerve of her to pretend we like her,” said Greer. “I really can’t believe it.”
Lindsay was dressed much as she had been the night we’d seen her with Deacon and Jasper, only this time she was more bundled for the cold. She wore the same boyfriend jeans, same black boots, same jacket, only now she had on a scarf and hat as well, all red and looking like they’d been knitted by hand. She was downright adorable, and I couldn’t stand her.
I wasn’t sure if Greer’s dislike was because the first time we’d seen Lindsay she was with Deacon, or because Greer thought Lindsay was a horrible human being who had no right to beat Liam at the ribbon-cutting competition. Either way, I was going to run with it.
“Good morning,” said Lindsay, smiling.
“I can’t believe you couldn’t just bear left,” muttered Greer to me, looking disgruntled.
I shook my head in silent apology. My mind was on other things, like Kayla’s murder. Meanwhile, Lindsay was ignoring Greer.
“Have you come to help Liam?” she asked chirpily. “Is he feeling good? Is he worried? We’re doing great over at the gallery. Everything is running so smoothly, you’d think it ran itself.”
“Is that because you’re not the one in charge?” said Greer.
Before Lindsay could fully process the insult, I intervened and said, “On our way to see Liam, yes. It’s what old friends do.”
“I love that! So loyal even in futility,” said Lindsay, flashing very white teeth.
I grabbed Greer’s arm before she did something I’d regret. “We better be going,” I said, with a nod Lindsay’s way, “but it was great to see you.” Then I dragged Greer away as quickly as possible, while she waved daintily at Lindsay purely out of irritation. Lindsay smiled brightly and kept walking.
“Why did you have to lie to her about it being great to see her?” Greer said.
I didn’t bother to answer.
Liam was already in the window when we walked through the door. He was bending down, contorted so that he could place a map just so. He had already hung up a black curtain between the door and the window so that customers could come into the shop but not see the display. He didn’t want spies to see what he was up to.
After the first couple of days of the competition we had stopped seeing artists working on the display over at the gallery, and that was making me nervous. I wasn’t sure if they had already figured out their plan, or were taking their preparations inside. Either way, I thought, they should be watched, though how to accomplish that was another question.
Once we were safely inside, we asked Liam what we could help him with. He set us to work unrolling bolts of golden cloth – very carefully, he made sure to tell us. He had decided that these would be a good backdrop to some of the smaller maps.
“You have an amazing eye for design,” I said.
“Why thank you, dear lady,” he said.
Liam himself bent over one of his maps. He was spending most of his time trying to color them perfectly, because he didn’t have dresses to prepare.
We were just finishing up when the doorbell tinkled. At first I didn’t look up, but then I saw Liam freeze. Sunlight streamed in behind the stranger, creating a dark shadow and a cloudy face. I found myself squinting to get a better look at the figure, which, backlighted in the doorway, was nothing more than a shape that reminded me of a bird’s nest.
When she was all the way inside in better light, I knew I had never se
en her before. She looked to be somewhere in her late fifties, and she was covered in drapes upon drapes of clothing that made it very clear that her favorite color was purple.
She had salt-and-pepper hair and a large nose that hooked downward, which, from the right angle, looked like it actually covered her upper lip. In fact, there was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t place it until Liam said, “Mom?”
“Son,” said Liam’s mom, smiling. She was missing two front teeth.
“What brings you here?” said Liam. He was looking incredibly nervous, while Greer and I both stayed on our places on the floor, our mouths agape. We had never seen his mother before.
“Can’t I just drop in on my son?” she pouted.
“You’re always welcome here, but you never come,” said Liam.
“I’m very busy,” said his mother.
“I know, Mom,” he said. He didn’t look any less nervous as she continued to stand there.
After a few moments she looked at Greer and me with an open smile. “Are these your friends?”
“Yeah, sorry, I forgot my manners. All the stress of the competition,” said Liam. He made introductions: “Gertrude Winston, these are my friends, Greer and Lemmi. Gertrude goes by Gerry,” he said, turning back to his mother.
“Yes, I read about the competition in the newspaper,” said Gerry, not bothering to acknowledge the introductions. “It sounds quite serious, and I’m sure it would be great for business if you won.” Slowly, she reached her splotchy, gnarled hand into the pocket of her purple coat and pulled out a crumpled newspaper. I could only assume it was the edition of the Mintwood Gazette that detailed the competition. Her eyes went to the window display, and I had the distinct impression that she wasn’t impressed.
I had a feeling, in fact, that Liam’s mother was more than a little loopy. He had once described her as having boarded the crazy train and never gotten off, so loopy was a fair guess.
“It doesn’t look finished yet,” said Gerry, sounding surprised.
Liam took it all in stride, but I could see in his eyes that his mother’s confusion at his choices was stressful for him. “I’m working very hard. I have high hopes. It’ll be finished soon.”
Witch Some Win Some (Witch of Mintwood Book 2) Page 14