“That sounds good,” I said. “He won’t be your partner for every case, though, right? I don’t ever want to see him again after this.”
“I might have to take him on some investigations, but hopefully Hemlock Cove won’t have another murder for years.”
“Yes, because that’s been the pattern of late.”
“You’re so sarcastic,” Landon said, grabbing me around the waist and rolling on top of me. “You do look better. The color is back in your cheeks. I wish you wouldn’t make yourself sick over this stuff.”
“I didn’t make myself sick.”
“Close enough.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “In fact, I feel strong – other than my growling stomach.”
Landon kissed the tip of my nose. “Let’s get in the shower then. Breakfast awaits.”
“That’s a beautiful sentiment, but we can’t shower together with Aunt Tillie under the same roof.”
Landon’s smile tipped upside down. “Why not?” Now he sounded like the petulant one.
“Because Aunt Tillie won’t like it and I don’t want her telling my mother about our … cleanliness … habits.”
“But … this bites.” Landon rested his head on my chest and bemoaned his cruel fate. “That’s my favorite part of the day.”
“I thought your favorite part of the day was any meal with bacon?”
“Well, it’s my second favorite part of the day,” Landon conceded.
“I thought your second favorite part of the day was cuddling in bed with me in the morning?”
Landon lifted his head and wrinkled his nose. “Do you remember everything I ever said to you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s cute and annoying,” he said. “In truth, this is my favorite part of the day. We’re alone, and you’re warm and snuggly. The outside world can’t get us here.”
My heart warmed. “That’s sweet.”
“If you could figure a way to keep bacon in here, though, things would be even better.”
“You have a one-track mind.”
“And you’re the track,” Landon said, mock growling as he kissed my neck. “As much as I would like to see where our mutual good moods will take us, I’m going to call a timeout on this and suggest you get in the shower first because you take longer to get ready.”
“You’re just saying that because the bedhead is a distraction.”
“I’m saying that because you refuse to shower together and cut down on our morning tasks,” Landon countered. “While you’re doing that, I’ll check on Aunt Tillie.”
“She’s probably already up at the inn for breakfast.”
“No, I’m not.”
I froze when I heard the voice, lifting my head so I could look over Landon’s shoulder to find Aunt Tillie staring at us from the open doorway. “What the … ?”
“What are you doing in here?” Landon barked, rolling off me and forcing himself to a sitting position. “This is our private space.”
“This is Bay’s private space,” Aunt Tillie corrected. “I heard you talking and decided to check in … roomies.”
“Oh, well, that’s great,” Landon said. “How did you know we weren’t doing something private?”
“Because most people don’t carry on deep and meaningful discussions when they’re doing something private.”
“Did you have your ear pressed to the wall?” I asked, mortified. “Aunt Tillie, if you’re going to stay here, we have to set some ground rules.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Aunt Tillie protested. “You guys talk loud.”
“We do not,” Landon argued. “The ground rules are a good idea. The first one is that you cannot enter this room without knocking. Period.”
Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“The second one is that whatever happens in this guesthouse stays in this guesthouse,” Landon added. “Think of it like Vegas.”
“Is Bay going to strip down to tassels and sequins and do a little dance for you?” Aunt Tillie asked, tightening her housecoat and arching a challenging eyebrow. “If so, I’m going to start carrying a bucket of water around with me.”
“Maybe. If she does, though, it’s none of your concern.”
“I think you just want me to promise not to tell Winnie about your dirty showers,” Aunt Tillie said. “For the record, I promise not to tell.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “You say that now but once you’re feeling annoyed you’ll rat me out in a heartbeat. I know you.”
“I’m wounded,” Aunt Tillie said, clutching the spot above her heart and tilting her head to the side. “What’s that, Sally? Yes, they are kind of cute.”
“Oh, knock it off,” Landon said, frustrated. “And get out. We’ll get up when we’re ready.”
Aunt Tillie tilted her head to the other side. “Oh, Sally, you have such a filthy mind. I think he’s a pervert, too, though.”
“Get out!”
Aunt Tillie wasn’t bothered by Landon’s tone. “I’m going to get in the shower while you two canoodle. I’ll be ready to go to town with you for breakfast in forty minutes. Don’t be late. I have to eat on a schedule or I get constipated.”
Landon’s mouth dropped open, but Aunt Tillie was already gone. “Did she just invite herself to our cozy breakfast?”
“Welcome to a new world of Winchester living.”
“I changed my mind,” Landon complained, burying his head in my shoulder so I could rub his back. “I want to spend the day in bed.”
“What about your bacon?”
“Screw the bacon. This has officially turned from a romantic morning for two into a nightmare for three. I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Suck it up, big guy. You said you loved me no matter what. Here is the … no matter what.”
“I blame Thistle for this,” Landon grumbled. “If she spent the night, this wouldn’t be happening.”
I blamed Thistle, too, and we were going to have a big talk about it later in the afternoon. For now, though, Landon and I had exactly five minutes to cuddle before the real world dragged us from our sanctuary.
“Just … relax,” I said, kissing his cheek. “We have five minutes of bliss left. Don’t ruin it.”
“Oh, sweetie, we have an entire lifetime of bliss,” Landon said. “Unfortunately, it’s going to be broken up by the occasional segments of apocalyptic mayhem. Those are the rules in the Winchester world.”
“Do you still love me despite that?”
“Always.”
Fifteen
After an uncomfortable breakfast with Landon and Aunt Tillie – one in which Landon talked incessantly about rules I knew Aunt Tillie would never follow – he left me in town and returned to The Overlook with my great-aunt in tow. I could hear them arguing as they left, and I had a feeling their relationship would only grow more tempestuous because we would be spending so much time together. The edges were already frayed. Now I just had to hope they didn’t rip.
Instead of heading straight to the newspaper, I turned toward the unicorn store. I didn’t have a lot of leads regarding Patty Grimes’ death – or life, for that matter – but I knew exactly who to blame for the Aunt Tillie predicament.
Mrs. Little was behind the counter helping a customer check out. I busied myself studying the unicorns – which kind of freaked me out – until she was done. When it was just the two of us, she continued ignoring me. I was petulant on a bad day, but Mrs. Little could win a prize for her attitude. Well, if they gave out prizes for being a busybody pain in the keister, that is.
“Hello, Mrs. Little.”
“Hello, Bay.” Her tone was breezy and clipped, and she refused to look in my direction. “Do you need help purchasing a gift? Perhaps a housewarming present for Clove is in order. I hear she moved out to the Dandridge.”
“She did move,” I confirmed. Clove was something of a princess at times, but even she wouldn’t want a unicorn to display. “I’ve already purchased a g
ift for her.” That was a lie. I didn’t think insulting Mrs. Little’s livelihood would get me the information I sought, though.
“Then why are you here?” Mrs. Little asked, finally lifting her eyes. “If this is about the threats you made yesterday … .”
“They weren’t threats,” I clarified, cutting her off. “It was a promise. I have no interest in spilling your secrets, yet you seem fixated on doing something terrible to Aunt Tillie. I want to know why.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t want to play games with you,” I said, moving closer to the counter. “Aunt Tillie is family, and I protect my family. I want to know why you called the FBI.”
“Because unlike you, Bay, I understand that Tillie is a threat,” Mrs. Little replied. “She’s not a good person. She’s not even a remotely likable person. You girls let her run roughshod over this town, and what I saw at the senior center wasn’t acceptable.”
“See, I have a problem with that,” I challenged. “You can pretend you’re doing it for the residents … or the senior center members … or the overall good of the town, but we both know that’s not true. Aunt Tillie didn’t kill Patty Grimes. It’s not in her nature. You have to know that.”
“I don’t labor under the same delusion most of this town does,” Mrs. Little said. “Everyone wants to pretend you’re normal people acting like witches, but I know better. Now, I don’t know the whole truth, but I have an inkling about it, and it’s terrifying. There’s always been something … off … about your family.”
“And yet you knew your husband was a murderer and said nothing about it for decades,” I shot back. “I would rather be off than mean and hurtful.”
“And what about Tillie? She’s mean and hurtful at every turn.”
“You have issues with Aunt Tillie, and that’s fine,” I said. “You don’t have to like her. You don’t even have to pretend to tolerate her. You do have to stop working against her when she doesn’t deserve it, though. That’s how things operate in a polite society.”
Mrs. Little snorted, the inelegant sound coming from a prim and proper woman taking me by surprise. “You’re young, Bay, and despite your many faults – and they are numerous and varied – I think you’re probably a good person,” she said. “I think your mother and aunts are good people. I think your cousins – well, Clove at least – are good, too. Tillie is another story.
“She has made a name for herself terrorizing whoever disagreed with her for as long as I can remember,” she continued. “She poisoned the people at the senior center before. I was there. We all saw it. That’s what got her banned.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then you’re naïve,” Mrs. Little shot back. “You want to believe your aunt is a good person, and I understand that, but she’s not. She’ll hurt people to get what she wants. She hurt Patty. She hurt me. She hurts everyone.”
“Now you’re speaking about things I’m not privy to because I wasn’t around when they happened,” I said. “How did she hurt Patty Grimes?”
“Why don’t you ask your aunt?”
Because I knew she wouldn’t answer honestly. I kept that to myself, though. “I’m asking you.”
“I’m not here to do your job for you, Bay,” Mrs. Little said. “I try to stay out of other people’s business.”
That was rich. “You called the FBI office in Traverse City and reported Aunt Tillie as a murderer before most people even knew Patty Grimes was dead,” I said. “That doesn’t sound like staying out of other people’s business. In fact, nobody knew how Patty died until hours after the FBI showed up. You wanted to stir the pot, and you did it. Congratulations.”
“I knew that Tillie was at the senior center, and I was suspicious of her activities while she was there,” Mrs. Little said. “I also know that Terry Davenport’s relationship with your family would never allow him to arrest Tillie, even though she’s guilty.”
“So you have no problem putting his job in jeopardy because you hold a grudge against Aunt Tillie?”
“I have no problem keeping the people in this town safe,” Mrs. Little clarified. “You’re blind to your aunt and who she really is. Terry is blind because of your mother … and I think a little because of you, too. He’s always been fond of you.”
“That doesn’t make him a bad man.”
“I don’t think he’s a bad man,” Mrs. Little said. “I think he’s … weak.”
“Well, I happen to know you’re a bad woman,” I said. “I also know Aunt Tillie isn’t capable of what you’re suggesting. You know as well as I do that she’s not the sneaking around type. If she’s angry, you’ll know it.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Little said. “Or perhaps you’re really here because you believe your aunt is capable of killing someone and you’re afraid to admit it and need someone else to blame. I’m not beholden to you, Bay. You can threaten me all you want. I know what’s right, and killing someone as defenseless as Patty isn’t right.”
“And I know what’s right, too,” I said. “Covering up a murder isn’t right. Blaming other people for things they haven’t done isn’t right. I’m not going to just let this go.”
“That’s certainly your prerogative.”
It was obvious Mrs. Little wouldn’t be swayed. “If I were you, I would be worried about what happens when Aunt Tillie is vindicated,” I said. “She’s going to be out for revenge, and when she comes at you, it won’t be with poison. You’ll see her coming.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost positive Mrs. Little gulped.
“If you’re not shopping, you should probably go, Bay,” she said. “I’m very busy.”
“You look it,” I said, turning toward the door. “If you mess with one member of our family, you mess with all of us. You should realize that.”
“I do realize it, Bay. I just happen to believe that justice is more important than Winchester vengeance. I almost pity you, because when the truth comes out about your aunt you’re going to have a broken heart. You have a nice day now.”
I WAS agitated by the time I got to The Whistler, storming toward my office and ignoring the owner, Brian Kelly, as he tried to call me down the hallway for some insipid meeting. He was always coming up with stupid ways to boost the newspaper’s circulation, but none of them ever worked because the population in the area was flat. It didn’t grow and it didn’t shrink. It merely maintained. I wasn’t interested in playing games with Brian today.
I booted my computer, gnawing on a fingernail as I waited until I could get on the Internet. I typed Patty’s name in a search engine and came up with a lot of hits, but none of them save a few random briefs regarding her death were about the Patty I was interested in. Apparently Patty Grimes is a popular name. I was so lost in thought I didn’t notice Edith, The Whistler’s resident ghost, until she practically floated through my desk to get my attention.
“You scared the crap out of me,” I hissed, narrowing my eyes. “Make a noise or something next time.”
“I did make a noise,” Edith replied, unruffled. She was used to my moods. “You didn’t hear me. In fact, I made five noises, and you ignored all of them.”
“I’m … searching for something,” I said, frustrated as I leaned back in my chair. “Mrs. Little is just … the worst human being ever.”
“You’re agitated.” Edith enjoyed stating the obvious. “What’s eating you?”
I told her about the past few days, leaving nothing out. Edith died at her desk decades ago, and she was familiar many of the players in the current conundrum. Sure, she absolutely hated Aunt Tillie, but there was no way she could suspect her of killing Patty Grimes.
“Oh, it was definitely Tillie.”
Of course, I’ve been known to be wrong a time or two. “How can you say that?” I asked, casting a quick glance at the door to make sure I had shut it. Brian could see me talking to myself through the window if he looked, but as long as he couldn’t hear an
ything I didn’t care if he thought I was crazy. When Brian’s grandfather died he left the newspaper to his grandson, but there was a stipulation in the will that Brian couldn’t fire me or sell the newspaper out from under me. As far as I was concerned, Brian Kelly was helpless – which was exactly how I liked him. “I know you and Aunt Tillie have had your difficulties, but she’s not a murderer.”
“I think she murdered me,” Edith said. “You know she hated me, right? It was her. I’m positive.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “She didn’t like you because she thought you flirted with Uncle Calvin,” I said, referring to my late great-uncle. “She’s been honest about that. If she wanted to go after you, though, she wouldn’t poison you. She would stab you or something. She’s more hands-on when it comes to revenge.”
Edith made a face that would’ve been comical under different circumstances. Unfortunately for her, I was in no mood to laugh.
“I know you love your aunt, Bay, but she’s not as nice to everyone as she is to you,” Edith said.
That was fairly laughable because Aunt Tillie had cursed me more times than I could count. “I don’t live under any illusions where Aunt Tillie is concerned,” I said. “However, I know her well enough to realize that she wouldn’t poison someone. It’s not in her nature, because she thrives off the confrontation as much as she does the victory.”
“That’s true,” Edith hedged. “Still, I never made advances on your uncle. I always felt bad for him because Tillie was such a pill. I was nice to him. That’s all.”
I thought she was probably remembering things as she wanted to remember them, but there was no reason to call her on it. Uncle Calvin died long before I was born. I needed to focus on the woman who recently died.
“What can you tell me about Aunt Tillie’s relationship with Patty Grimes?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they acted as if they would rather set fire to one another than carry on a civilized conversation,” I replied. “There’s obviously some very … unfortunate … history between the two of them. I want to know what it is.”
Charms & Witchdemeanors (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 8) Page 14