Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery)

by Lee, Amanda M.

  “I might have overreacted,” I admitted sheepishly. “I just got worried when I called the inn and my mom said you guys went off on a picnic.”

  “You told your mom?” Thistle looked furious again. “She’ll tell my mom and we’re going to have an international incident on our hands, you idiot!”

  “She was just looking out for you,” Landon interjected. “You should be happy she cares enough not to let you die. Given your attitude, I would have just let you come up here with a murderer.”

  “Yeah,” Thistle barked out sarcastically. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

  “I’m not a murderer,” Marcus said quietly.

  “Of course you’re not,” Thistle patted his hand sympathetically.

  “We have three suspects,” Landon said calmly. “Marcus is one of them.”

  “Who are the other two?” Thistle asked curiously.

  “Ken Trask and Brian Kelly,” I supplied.

  “Why are you telling them that?” Landon asked in obvious frustration.

  I shrugged. I told them everything. It had never occurred to me not to tell them, quite frankly.

  Thistle considered it a minute. “It has to be Brian Kelly. He’s a tool.”

  “That’s what I said,” Landon agreed. “We were questioning him when Bay called and said you’d been kidnapped.”

  “I did not say she was kidnapped,” I rounded on him angrily. “Don’t exaggerate. You were as worried as I was.”

  Landon shrugged noncommittally. “I still blame you.”

  Whatever.

  A sudden commotion on the path behind us caused everyone to shift their attention in that direction. I wasn’t surprised to see my mom and aunts – Aunt Tillie included – come rushing into the clearing. I was surprised to see Aunt Tillie holding a pitchfork, however. Where the Hecate had she found that?

  “Unhand her, you rogue,” Aunt Tillie ordered, brandishing the pitchfork in Marcus’ direction threateningly.

  “It’s okay, Aunt Tillie,” I said tiredly. “Marcus isn’t trying to kill Thistle.” At least we didn’t think so at this point.

  “Where did you get that?” Landon asked, looking at the pitchfork.

  “We were in a hurry,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “I couldn’t remember where I hid my gun.”

  “You have a gun?” Landon asked in disbelief. “What moron would give you a gun?”

  “I did,” Aunt Tillie said, casting a dark look in my mother’s direction. “Someone hid it on me, though.”

  That was probably a smart move.

  “Do you have a permit for a gun?” Landon asked. I didn’t think he wanted a truthful answer to that.

  “Don’t you worry about that copper,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “It’s none of your concern.”

  “As a member of law enforcement, it is my concern,” he corrected her. “You have to have a permit for a gun, and if you have one, then someone should lose their job because they clearly don’t know the parameters for giving out gun permits.”

  “Are you telling me you would take away an old lady’s only source of protection?” Aunt Tillie challenged him. It was hard to find her scary with the ridiculous sunglasses, though.

  I glanced at Landon to see if he would back down. It could go either way at this point.

  “You don’t look like you need a gun,” Landon pointed out, gesturing to the pitchfork, which was still cocked in Marcus’ direction.

  “I improvised.”

  “I guess I should just be happy that you can’t get a car up here, or you would have run him over,” Landon grumbled.

  I turned to my mom and aunts expectantly. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “You told us Thistle was in danger. We figured out she was up here and came to save her,” my mom said simply.

  “I didn’t say she was in danger,” I said. “I said I needed to find her.”

  “No, you said she might be picnicking with a murderer,” my mom countered. “Don’t try to pretend you didn’t. You overreacted and now you’re trying to blame it on us.”

  “I did not!”

  “She has always been an alarmist,” Marnie explained to Landon. “As a child she was convinced Bigfoot was in the woods and refused to get near them for three straight months.”

  “Wasn’t that after she saw the Bigfoot episode of MacGyver?” Twila asked.

  “I think so,” Marnie nodded.

  “It was worse when we took her to the ocean and she wouldn’t even put a toe in because she was convinced Jaws was going to eat her,” my mom supplied. “That was the worst vacation ever.”

  “Do you guys have to tell him all of my embarrassing stories?”

  “These aren’t even the worst,” my mom reminded me knowingly.

  “Yeah,” Marnie agreed. “We didn’t even tell him how you were convinced you could turn into the Hulk and smash Aunt Tillie if you just got mad enough when you were ten.”

  I still hadn’t been proven wrong on that.

  “Or how about the time she thought the china doll was stalking her?” Twila giggled.

  “It was!” I rounded on Twila angrily. “It was watching me when I slept.”

  “You just didn’t like it because Clove told you that old ghost story about a china doll scratching eyes out and you freaked,” Marnie said.

  “It was watching me,” I explained to Landon.

  “She started hiding it all over the house,” my mom said. “I would find it in the hamper, in the cupboards, in the closets.”

  “And you kept putting it back in my room,” I said bitterly.

  “I thought you would get over it,” my mom clucked suspiciously. “Finally, one day, we came home and found her beating its face in on the pavement in front of the inn.”

  Landon glanced at me. “You killed the doll?”

  “It was evil.”

  “It was an antique,” my mom corrected me.

  “Then you should have taken better care of it.”

  “Aunt Tillie told her it was cursed,” Thistle interjected, suddenly remembering. “She told her that the doll could eat her soul during the night if she wasn’t careful.”

  “Bay thought it was true because the doll looked exactly like her,” Clove agreed. “It was a creepy doll.”

  “Why would you tell her that?” My mom turned on Aunt Tillie. “You know she freaks out over the strangest things?”

  “She was bugging me when I was watching my stories,” Aunt Tillie looked away quickly. “I was just trying to get her to shut up.”

  “I put that thing in the compost bin and it still showed up back in my room,” I said angrily. “It was evil.”

  Landon shook his head. “It’s over now. Let’s move on.”

  Aunt Tillie finally lowered the pitchfork and turned to Thistle seriously. “I’m gad you weren’t murdered.”

  “I’m glad I wasn’t murdered, too,” Thistle grumbled.

  My mom still wasn’t done with the china doll conversation. “Aunt Tillie kept finding the doll and putting it back in your room. It’s not like it walked back in your room on its own.”

  “She said she wasn’t,” I protested.

  “And you believed her?” Marnie asked dubiously. “It’s your Aunt Tillie. Where do you think you three learned to lie so well from?”

  I knew it!

  “Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” Aunt Tillie asked suddenly, trying to divert my wrath and direct attention back to Thistle.

  “She’s not wearing a bra?” Twila looked scandalized. “In public?”

  Thistle turned to me darkly. “I’m going to make you pay for this. You think that doll was bad? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Once everything had settled down, which took a lot of effort, Clove left with Marcus and Thistle, and my mom and aunts decided to walk back to the inn, leaving Aunt Tillie with me.

  “Why aren’t you taking her with you?” I whined.

  “She shouldn’t have to walk all that way
back,” my mom pointed out. “She’s elderly. It’s not good to tire her out for no good reason at her age.”

  “You just want a break from her, “ I grumbled.

  Aunt Tillie reached up and smacked me on the back of my head. “Respect your elders.”

  Landon smiled despite himself. “It’s probably a good idea for her to go with us anyway,” he said. “It will give me a chance to talk to her about her gun.”

  Aunt Tillie looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Maybe the walk back would be good for me.”

  “Oh, it’s too late for that,” Landon said, leading her down the path and in the direction of his car.

  “Fresh air is good for the body,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “I thought you were allergic to oxygen,” Landon said, glancing pointedly at her sunglasses.

  “Only my eyes are,” Aunt Tillie reminded him.

  “I wouldn’t feel right about letting you walk back when I can drive you and make sure you get there safely,” Landon said with faux sweetness.

  I followed the two of them grumpily. This just wasn’t my day.

  When we finally made it back to Landon’s car, he hadn’t made any headway with Aunt Tillie regarding her firearm. He was clearly getting frustrated. “I still don’t understand why you feel you need a gun?”

  “I’m an old woman,” she said. “I’ve made a lot of enemies through the years. I have the right to protect my family.”

  “Aren’t most of them dead?” Landon asked blandly.

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you don’t need a gun,” Landon said matter-of-factly.

  “I can’t find it anyway,” Aunt Tillie said blithely. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Landon shook his head, opening the door and helping Aunt Tillie into the front seat of the car. He shut the door and turned to me before I could get into the backseat. “How do you live with her?”

  “I don’t. I live in the guesthouse,” I pointed out.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “You’ll get used to her.”

  “That’s a frightening thought.”

  “At least she won’t try and terrorize you with an evil doll,” I sputtered.

  “I still can’t believe you were scared of a doll,” Landon chuckled.

  “You’re scared of the dark,” I reminded him.

  “I’m not scared of the dark. I just don’t like enclosed spaces.”

  Whatever.

  When we were all in the car, Aunt Tillie turned to me expectantly. “Your mom told me why you suspected Marcus.”

  “Yes, I know, I jumped to conclusions,” I sighed, leaning back into Landon’s leather upholstery. “I don’t need you to tell me that I’m an alarmist.”

  “I don’t care about that,” Aunt Tillie waved away my statement dismissively. “Your first inclination was to save your cousin. I can’t fault you for that.”

  “You can’t? Since when?”

  “Don’t be smart.”

  “What were we talking about again?”

  “Myron.”

  “Oh, yeah, what were you saying?”

  “I think you’re on the right track with Brian Kelly,” she said.

  “Why?” Landon asked curiously.

  “She just doesn’t like him,” I explained to Landon. “She thinks he’s a tool.”

  “Does anyone like him?” Landon asked honestly. I saw his eyes shift up to the rearview mirror so he could gauge my reaction.

  I kept quiet about Clove’s crush. “Probably not.”

  “He’s got a personality defect,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “What personality defect?” I asked curiously.

  “It’s called narcissism.”

  That was true.

  “That still doesn’t explain why you think it’s him?” Landon prodded Aunt Tillie carefully. I think she made him nervous. It would be ten times worse when he actually got to know her.

  “She doesn’t really think it’s him, she’s just hoping it’s him so he’ll leave the inn,” I supplied.

  “Don’t tell me what I really think,” Aunt Tillie glared at me. “I think it’s Brian because Myron was William’s son and if Brian knows that, he might have killed Myron to keep that little family secret quiet forever.”

  “What?” I asked incredulously. “William was Myron’s father? How do you know that?”

  “It was common knowledge,” Aunt Tillie said. “William never claimed him publicly, but everyone around back then knew it. William had a wandering penis. He slept with half the women in town.”

  I thought about it a second. William and Myron did kind of look alike. “But why didn’t William claim him? And you didn’t sleep with him, did you?”

  “He was married,” Aunt Tillie said simply. “Myron’s mother was a good woman, but she had a little problem. And I was a happily married woman. I would never cheat on your Uncle Calvin.”

  “What problem?”

  “She was a nymphomaniac.”

  I looked at Aunt Tillie doubtfully. “A nymphomaniac? Do you even know what that is?”

  “It’s a woman that has a lot of sex,” Aunt Tillie explained.

  “That’s a slut,” Landon interjected. “Not a nymphomaniac. Sluts are a dime a dozen, but finding a true nymphomaniac is like finding a unicorn.”

  “We don’t use words like that in this family,” Aunt Tillie chided him.

  “Sorry,” Landon said sheepishly, averting his gaze from mine – which had darkened over the nymphomaniac joke.

  Aunt Tillie turned to me. “Is he always such an asshole?”

  “He’s just trying to do his job,” I replied. “You should let him do it.”

  Aunt Tillie harrumphed, but lapsed into silence as Landon drove. When we got to the inn, he turned to Aunt Tillie. “Don’t tell anyone what you just told us,” he ordered. “We need to do some research to find out if it’s actually true or not.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” she said.

  “I’m not telling,” he corrected himself. “I’m asking nicely.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re asking nicely,” Aunt Tillie argued.

  Landon looked to me for help. “She won’t tell anyone,” I promised. I didn’t believe it for a second, though. I knew the minute she made it into the inn she would blab to my mom and aunts. I didn’t tell that to Landon, though.

  “Are you sure?” he asked doubtfully.

  No. “Of course. Aunt Tillie is trustworthy.”

  Aunt Tillie paused as she was getting out of the car. “Despite the fact that you’re an asshole, I’m starting to like you.”

  Landon smiled at her winningly. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  Aunt Tillie glanced at me as I slid into the spot she had just vacated in the front seat. “Hurt her and I’ll start you on fire.”

  “You’ll start me on fire?” Landon didn’t look convinced.

  “And I won’t need matches to do it,” Aunt Tillie said. “And I’ll start with your balls.”

  Aunt Tillie shut the door and shuffled off towards the inn without a backwards glance.

  “She’s joking, right?” Landon looked hopeful.

  I shrugged. I had my doubts, though.

  Landon swallowed hard and continued to watch Aunt Tillie until she was safely inside of the inn. He turned to me when she had completely disappeared from sight. “She’s not trustworthy, is she?”

  “Not even a little.”

  Landon sighed and started the car, pointing it back towards town. “Your family is exhausting.”

  He had no idea.

  Twenty-Eight

  When I woke up the next morning, it took me a few minutes to realize it was Friday already. I had returned to the office long enough to pick up my laptop the day before, but then I had spent the rest of the afternoon at Hypnotic filing stories.

  Brian hadn’t been at the office when Landon and I returned, but Landon said he didn’t want me to hang around The Whi
stler alone until he’d had a chance to talk to Brian and eliminate him as a suspect. I had a feeling that conversation was going to equate to two peacocks preening until one of the peacocks claimed his dominance and molted all over the other one.

  I had already done most of the work for the new edition, so I didn’t really have that much to do Thursday. Since Thistle was cranky when she got back to the store – through no fault of mine, I maintain – I did most of my work in silence. The only noise in the room was the occasional ding of my telephone when Landon texted me to make sure I was where I said I would be.

  After I had finished filing all my stories, and emailing the paginator with suggestions for the layout, I wasn’t surprised to find Landon waiting outside Hypnotic for me. He offered to spend the night at the guesthouse to make sure Clove, Thistle and I were safe. When I declined, he looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he merely agreed and made me promise that the three of us wouldn’t leave the guesthouse unless we were together.

  Now, with the bright light of day filtering in through my window, I was starting to suspect that Landon hadn’t really wanted to stay at the guesthouse. He had something else he wanted to do – but he was genuinely torn regarding our safety. He was a decent guy. He was a condescending guy, but he was a decent guy.

  When I went out into the living room, I found Thistle and Clove having coffee at the island in the kitchen. “How did you sleep?” Clove asked.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m surprised,” Thistle grumbled. “With all the suspects running through your head, I would have figured you would have been tossing and turning all night.”

  “I told you I was sorry,” I shot back. “Would you rather Clove and I leave you alone with a possible murderer next time?”

  “That would be great,” Thistle said sarcastically.

  “Let’s all just agree that we overreacted – and now Thistle is being a pain,” Clove interjected nervously.

  Thistle and I both shot her dark looks.

  “Fine,” Clove sighed. “Let’s all just be pissy with each other all day instead.”

  That sounded like a fine idea.

  “What time are you going to town?” Thistle asked grudgingly.

  “After I shower.”