“People think the same about us,” Thistle said. “I don’t understand how Mrs. Little thought she would force Aunt Tillie to do her bidding, though. That seems extremely odd.”
“This whole thing seems odd,” I said, stretching my legs out on the floor. “I think it’s entirely possible that Mrs. Little flipped her lid after a lifetime of anger pointed in Aunt Tillie’s direction. But why wouldn’t she try to kill Aunt Tillie?”
“She’s trying to frame her instead,” Clove said.
“Maybe with Patty,” I said. “The fact that Mrs. Little called the FBI before a cause of death was even released for Patty still doesn’t sit right with me. She called Chief Terry the day before to report Aunt Tillie being at the senior center. That would fall in line with her laying the groundwork for an arrest if she intended to frame Aunt Tillie.”
“So what’s the problem?” Clove asked.
“Fay,” Thistle supplied. “Why kill Fay?”
“Maybe Fay knew she killed Patty,” Clove suggested. “Maybe they did it together to get Aunt Tillie out of the way or as some weird form of retribution we don’t yet understand. Maybe Fay felt bad about it after the fact and decided to tell the truth, and Mrs. Little had to stop her.”
“That’s a decent theory,” I said. “That means it would’ve been a ‘heat of the moment’ killing, though. Whoever stabbed Fay in the bathroom was carrying a knife. Does Mrs. Little strike you as the type of person who would carry a knife in her purse?”
Landon said it was one of those pocketknives you fold up. They’re sold everywhere, so there’s little chance of tracking the purchase.”
“I forgot about that,” Clove admitted. “Could they be wrong?”
“I don’t think the coroner got his license from a cereal box, Clove,” Thistle said, shaking the diary she held to get our attention. “Oh, hey, listen to this. This is when Viola is still in high school and right before graduation.”
“Does it involve another sex fantasy?” Clove asked. “I cannot listen to another sex fantasy. That one about going to the carnival and seducing the clown with cotton candy and a squeaky horn almost made me throw up.”
“I think that was supposed to be funny,” Thistle said, giggling. “This one involves a relationship, but not sex. Well, kind of sex, but not creepy clown sex.”
“What is it?” I prodded.
“‘I saw Victor today,’” Thistle read. “‘He was supposed to be working but he’s been hanging around the school watching Tillie. Patty is still mad, and Margaret keeps trying to fire her up to go after Tillie. I think if she could convince Patty to kill Tillie she would do it. She denies it, of course.
“‘Calvin is always waiting outside the school to walk Tillie home now, so we can’t approach her when he’s watching,’” she continued. “‘Margaret swears she’s going to get Tillie to fix things before we graduate, but I already think it’s too late.
“‘Victor keeps following Tillie around, and I’m beginning to wonder whether he’s dangerous,’” Thistle read. “’He wants to hurt Calvin. He wants to hurt Tillie, too. Even worse, I think he might want to hurt me because of what I told him about Patty. I had suspicions and he brushed them off, but I didn’t miss the look in his eye. He seems lost and confused. Trouble is coming. I can feel it.’”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s … ominous.”
“That’s creepy,” Clove said. “Do you really think Victor stalked Aunt Tillie?”
“It sounds like it,” I replied. “They probably didn’t call it stalking back then, though.”
“It sounds to me like Victor was obsessed with Aunt Tillie and she abused his affection,” Thistle said. “I know she’s our aunt, but she’s not perfect. In her mind she might not have realized what she was doing … or maybe beating Patty and Mrs. Little took precedence over Victor’s feelings. I can see that happening.”
“Basically we’re operating under the theory that Mrs. Little wanted Aunt Tillie to perform magic for her – whether to make them young forever or unnaturally get them ahead in life – and the longer Aunt Tillie worked against her the more bitter she became,” I said. “I think the original problems stem from that, but I’m not sure I can picture Mrs. Little stabbing Fay.”
“It’s one thing to poison someone – that’s killing from a distance,” Thistle added. “Stabbing someone is entirely different. Even if it was in the heat of the moment, Mrs. Little would’ve acted surprised … or upset … or even appeared disheveled at the dance. Instead she held court at the table with Kenneth and Arthur. She didn’t look upset, or even distracted.”
“We need a list of people who attended the dance last night,” I said. “We can’t start ruling people out until we know how many people we have to sort through.”
“What about the diaries?” Clove asked. “We can’t sit here all day. Viola is bound to come home eventually.”
As if on cue, the unmistakable sound of a door opening at the other end of the house froze us in place. I locked gazes with Thistle, my heart rate ratcheting up several notches. I was frozen in place for exactly five seconds before I shook off the terror.
“We have to get out of here,” I mouthed.
Thistle sprang into action – she’s always the best under pressure – and grabbed the diaries to shove them back on the shelves. They weren’t in the right order, but we had no way of remembering their original locations. I moved to the window and quietly opened it, unlatching the screen and pushing it out. It hit the ground outside, and I poked my head through the opening to make sure no one could see our escape before climbing out.
Clove followed, Thistle giving her a good shove and causing her to land on top of me. I tried to catch her, but the force of Thistle’s push toppled both of us to the ground. Thistle hopped out after us, gracefully landing and giving us a disgusted shake of the head before lifting the screen and settling it back inside its grooves.
This wasn’t the first time we’d hopped out of a window and had to cover our tracks. Sure, most of the other times occurred when we were teenagers, but some skills never fade. The screen wasn’t properly latched, but hopefully Viola wouldn’t think anything of it, if she noticed at all.
I pushed Clove to a standing position before rolling to a crouch. Thistle pointed at the bushes to signify we should stick as close as possible before making a break toward the back gate. I nodded, lowering my head as I rounded a large shrub. We were only about twenty feet away from the gate when our plan imploded.
“Are you going somewhere, girls?”
I froze, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. I recognized Viola’s voice. Crap!
“We can explain,” Clove said, jumping to her feet and holding up her hands in an effort to show she was unarmed.
“You can explain?” Viola challenged, her eyes dark as they briefly locked with mine. “How can you explain breaking into my house and pawing through my belongings? I saw my journals, by the way. You left them out of order.”
“Just out of curiosity’s sake, did you arrange them by genre?” Thistle asked.
I elbowed her in the stomach to quiet her. “I … um … .”
“We know you have memory problems, but we also think you probably knew the big secret between Aunt Tillie and Mrs. Little at some point,” Clove blurted out. “We wanted to read about it in your journals because we’re desperate to know what’s going on. Please don’t call the cops. I’m too small and cute for prison.”
“Oh, smooth,” Thistle said, rolling her eyes. “You’re the worst spy ever!”
“You’re all terrible spies,” Viola said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re the one I saw climbing out the library window, Thistle. That purple hair is a dead giveaway. That’s how I knew to come out here. How did you get in?”
“Your sliding glass door was unlocked,” I said, opting for honesty.
“The gate wasn’t, though,” Viola pointed out.
“Yes, but the handle was rusty and it wasn’t hard to ji
mmy,” Thistle said. “We’re sorry, but … we need answers and we thought you were our best shot.”
“I see,” Viola said, shaking her head. “You girls remind me so much of Tillie it kills me.”
“Hey, we said we were sorry,” Clove said. “There’s no reason to insult us.”
Viola smirked. “That’s something Tillie would say.”
“We really are sorry.” The apology sounded lame, but I didn’t know what else to offer. “We know something happened back when you ladies were younger and we know Mrs. Little wanted something from Aunt Tillie.”
“Something she couldn’t give,” Thistle added.
“Something she refused to give,” Viola clarified. “I’m on to all of you. I know you’re really witches. Heck, the whole town knows. Those who don’t acknowledge it want to pretend it’s not true, but I know better.
“Your family is surrounded by strange things,” she continued. “Men have disappeared in your presence. Bay walks around talking to herself half the time. Storms spring out of nowhere and lightning strikes people on your property. I’m not an idiot.”
“I don’t talk to myself,” I said. “I just … .” Hmm. I couldn’t admit talking to ghosts. That wouldn’t go over well.
“She talks to herself,” Thistle said, shooting me a warning look. “Fine. You’ve got us. We’re witches. Abracadabra.”
“That’s magicians,” Clove said.
“Alakazam?” Thistle asked, searching her memory.
“Also magicians,” I said.
“And Pokémon,” Clove added.
“Okay, I’m out of magic words,” Thistle said. “We’ve admitted our dark secret. Now we want you to admit your dark secret.”
“I don’t have a dark secret,” Viola said. “I can’t remember anything these days. Why do you think I keep the diaries?”
“I think you have an erotica fetish,” Thistle replied, not missing a beat. “That clown fascination of yours is creepy, by the way. We should talk. We could probably make a killing in fetish fiction on the web.”
“Clowns are wonderful,” Viola argued.
“They’re creepy,” Thistle said. “I don’t care about the clowns, though. I care about the other stuff. I care about the dead people.”
I decided to try a different tactic. “Someone killed Patty and Fay,” I said. “It wasn’t Aunt Tillie. I swear it. We need to figure out who it is.”
“Of course it’s not Tillie,” Viola scoffed. “Margaret wants everyone to believe it’s Tillie but no one does. My memory is shot, but I know who did it.”
I was stunned. “You do? Who?”
Viola opened her mouth to answer, but her response died on her lips.
The deafening roar of a gunshot filled the air, causing me to cringe and duck my head. Something warm splashed across the side of my face. Even in my stunned state, I realized it was Viola’s blood before her body hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Someone was shooting at us … and Viola was already gone.
Twenty-Seven
“Bay!”
I was frozen, my muscles immovable. I could hear the blood pulsating through my body. It was as if a torrent of fluid rushed past my brain, choking the life out of me as the oxygen was stolen from my lungs. It was so loud it drowned out almost everything else. Thistle screamed my name, but it barely registered.
Thistle viciously grabbed my arm and yanked me into the bushes, shaking me as she tried to command my attention. I couldn’t focus. My head was … floating, as if detached from my body.
“Son of a … .”
“Do something,” Clove screamed, covering her head as another gunshot rang out. I jolted at the noise, but Thistle held me down as she rummaged through my pocket. I couldn’t figure out what she was doing until she pulled out my phone.
Her hands shook as she pressed three numbers into the keypad and then lifted the phone to her ear.
“We need help!”
“BAY?”
Chief Terry’s voice was gentle as he hunkered down in front of me. I recognized his face, but I remained quiet.
“Bay,” Chief Terry said. “It’s okay. You can stand up now.”
I remained on the ground behind the bushes, my chin resting on my knees. After the second shot, things fell eerily silent. Chief Terry arrived minutes later, his officers scattering to search the area. He called for paramedics to help Viola. She was beyond help, but he made the call anyway.
“Leave her there,” Thistle said, shaking her head. “She’s in shock.”
“I can see that,” Chief Terry snapped. “What in the hell were you three doing here? What was going on when Viola was shot?”
“I … .” Thistle held her hands palms up and shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, you’d better have your story together right quick,” Chief Terry said, keeping his voice low. “Trouble just walked through the back gate.”
I flicked my eyes in the direction Chief Terry indicated, my heart sinking when I saw Noah tread into the yard. I thought he was alone until Landon shoved him out of the way to give himself room to navigate. Landon blew past Chief Terry when he tried to intercept him, and raced to me.
“Bay!”
I forced myself to focus on him as he jerked me into his arms, pressing his hand to the back of my head. I could feel his heart racing against mine.
“Sweetie, what happened?” Landon asked, pulling away slightly so he could study me. “Whose blood is this?”
Chief Terry pointed at Viola’s body. “Bay must’ve been … splattered … when Viola was shot.”
My heart sank at the description. I could still see every gruesome moment of it as I relived it in slow motion.
“How close were you?” Landon’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as his voice wavered.
I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound would come out.
“She was right next to her,” Thistle answered for me. “We were all talking and … then it happened. They were only a few inches apart.”
“Oh, Bay, dammit!” Landon sat on the ground and pulled me onto his lap, resting my head against his shoulder and rocking me. It was surreal … and comforting at the same time. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” I didn’t know whether he was trying to convince me or himself.
“Whoever it was had to be watching us,” Thistle said. In the face of everything, she had it pulled together, and I envied her for it. “We were talking to Viola and … she said she was about to tell us who the murderer was. The next thing we knew, a gun went off and there was blood all over Bay’s face. It took me a second to realize what was happening. It didn’t feel real.”
“Then what happened?” Chief Terry asked gently, as he rested his hand on top of my head.
“Bay kind of froze,” Thistle said. “I yelled at her, but she just stood there, so I yanked her into the bushes. I think she has some cuts.”
“And you left me behind to fend for myself,” Clove said, her lower lip jutting out. “I could’ve died, too.”
“You weren’t frozen,” Thistle snapped. “You didn’t have blood on your face.”
Landon tightened his arm around my waist and – to my shock – began humming. The melody was familiar, yet I couldn’t place it.
“Another gunshot went off after I got her in the bushes,” Thistle said. “I knew her phone was in her pocket so I found it and called for help. We didn’t hear anything after the second gunshot.”
“Except Bay whimpering,” Clove said. “She wouldn’t talk to us, though. We thought maybe she was hit at first … but it was all Viola’s blood.”
“And she was obviously dead,” Thistle added. “If I thought she was alive I would’ve tried to help her, but … .”
“I see her, Thistle,” Chief Terry said, turning his kind eyes on my cousin. “You couldn’t have done anything for Viola.”
“What I want to know is what you ladies were doing here,” Noah interjected. “Why were you at this woman’s house?”
<
br /> “She’s part of the older crew that ran around with Aunt Tillie, and she was well acquainted with Patty and Fay,” Thistle replied, her tone even. “We wanted to know whether she had any answers.” She conveniently left out the part about us breaking into the house. Thistle was always cool under pressure.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Landon whispered in my ear. “I’ll take care of you.” I thought he was almost more shocked than me.
“And what did Viola tell you?” Noah asked, pulling out his tiny notebook. He was all business.
“She didn’t really get a chance to tell us anything,” Thistle replied. “We talked to her for only a few seconds.”
“And you expect me to believe that someone just happened to be watching at the precise moment when everything could’ve shifted in this investigation and shot her as she was about to reveal the big secret?” Noah challenged.
“I don’t care what you believe,” Thistle shot back. “She could’ve been about to tell us an evil clown did it. I have no idea what she was going to say. Someone wanted her silenced, though. Why don’t you spend more time worrying about that?”
“Because I’m worried about you, Ms. Winchester,” Noah replied. “This is the second murder you’ve been present for. I want to know why that is.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Chief Terry asked, sliding a silencing look in Thistle’s direction before focusing on the most annoying man in the yard.
“These three women have been present for two murders,” Noah said. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“They weren’t present for Fay’s murder,” Chief Terry argued. “They found her in the bathroom after the fact. I’ve given you two sworn witness statements putting all three of them on the front sidewalk at the time Fay was murdered!”
“Those statements could’ve been coerced.” Noah was stubborn. I had to give him that.
“And who do you think coerced them?” Chief Terry asked.
“I’m leaning toward you, but I haven’t ruled out Agent Michaels,” Noah said, refusing to back down. “He seems unnaturally attached to Ms. Winchester, and I believe he is capable of lying to protect her.”
Charms & Witchdemeanors (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 8) Page 25