“Today is the big kickoff of the murder mystery,” Thistle pointed out. “We’re all expected to be in town for the first victim reveal.”
“Is it your mom?”
“No,” Thistle sighed. “She’s the third victim. She doesn’t die until tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s bound to be . . . entertaining.”
Thistle grimaced. “Or really embarrassing.”
There was that, too.
“So what exactly is going to happen today?” Clove asked.
“Haven’t you read the updates from Mrs. Little?” Thistle teased. I could tell she had decided to try and push her anger aside – at least for now.
“She sends like three a day. I stopped reading them a week ago,” Clove admitted. “If I wanted to read that much, I’d pick up a book.”
“Today is a special picnic lunch, complete with a barbecue by Mr. Winkler and a speech by Mrs. Little,” Thistle supplied. “Then, they’re going to have live music and sometime, during the evening, the first victim is going to drop.”
“Who is the first victim?”
“I have no idea,” Thistle shrugged.
“Does anyone else think it’s morbid to do this with Myron’s death still hanging over us unsolved?” Clove asked.
“It’s the Hemlock Cove way,” I replied. “It’s all about keeping the tourists happy. The tourists want a murder mystery and a murder mystery is what they’re going to get. It doesn’t matter that it’s tacky.”
“Please, the tourists think it’s more exciting because of Myron’s death,” Thistle scoffed.
That was a sad truth.
The three of us spent a lazy morning showering and getting ready for the picnic. It was a sunny day, and even though fall was officially here, temperatures were expected to remain comfortable in the high sixties so we all dressed in simple jeans, shirts and hoodies.
We decided to ride together – mostly because I could hear Landon’s admonishments in my mind if he heard we separated – and headed off to town as a unit. We parked behind The Whistler and walked to the town square.
“When are you going to open the store?” I asked Thistle.
“In a few minutes,” Thistle said. “I want to look around first.”
Hemlock Cove doesn’t do subtle. The town square had been decked out in a full contingent of red and black streamers, and a frightening mural roll out on the bank wall.
“Who did that?”
“Thistle helped,” Clove said proudly.
“You did?” I turned to Thistle in surprise. “When did you have time for that?”
“It didn’t take long,” Thistle said, although I could see her cheeks coloring under the praise.
“It’s pretty cool,” I said, stepping closer to get a better look. The tableau was actually pretty horrifying – but in an abstract art way. There were bodies scattered around on the ground, all with a varying array of disgusting injuries, and there was a maniacal killer standing in the center of the havoc. You couldn’t see who the killer was, though, because he was wearing one of those grain sacks over his head with black eyes cut out. It was truly menacing.
“Where did you get the idea for this?”
“We have a whole wall full of horror movies,” Thistle pointed out.
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “Horrific, but beautiful.”
“Of course it’s beautiful.”
I turned to find Marcus sidling up to Thistle and slinging an arm around her shoulders. He dropped a kiss on the side of her head and then turned to me expectantly. “Is this alright, or do you want to frisk me first?”
“Ha, ha.”
“I just don’t want you to jump me if you think I make too many sudden moves,” Marcus teased.
I was relieved he didn’t seem to be holding a grudge. “I think I’ll leave the frisking up to Thistle,” I said blithely.
“That’s probably a good idea,” Thistle snuggled into Marcus. They really were cute together.
“Isn’t this awesome?”
I cringed when I heard the voice. I turned slowly, plastering a fake smile on my face, and greeted Brian Kelly with as much warmth as I could muster. It wasn’t much. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
“Why not?” Brian seemed genuinely surprised by my statement. There was a decided chill in his eyes, though.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I figured you would be busy with your redecorating project.”
“That can wait,” Brian waved off my suggestion like it was the craziest thing he’d heard all day. “This is a big deal for the town. I’m part of the town now. I figured I should get to know as many of my neighbors as possible.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” I beamed with faux enthusiasm. I could only hope he would go meet his new neighbors right now – and leave us alone.
True to form, Brian didn’t seem to pick up on social cues. “What do you think they’re barbecuing over there? It smells delicious.”
“Hot dogs and hamburgers,” I said shortly.
Thistle shook her head subtly when she met my gaze. I think she was warning me not to tip my hand that we suspected him of being a murderer. I was so uncomfortable in his presence, though, that I just wanted to put some space between the two of us.
I took the opportunity to do just that when the bank manager, Mr. Trask, exited his building and plowed right into me.
“Oh, sorry Bay,” he apologized; steadying me so I didn’t fall backwards. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Mr. Trask,” I greeted him. “How is the bank business?”
“It never really changes, not in a town like Hemlock Cove,” he admitted.
“So, crappy?” I was trying to be cute, but I think I was coming off as a little tense. I blamed Brian.
Mr. Trask shrugged. “It is what it is.”
An idea occurred to me suddenly. “Have you met Brian Kelly?”
Mr. Trask looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here – I recognized the look on his face as a mirror to the look that was probably on mine – but he greeted Brian amiably. He was a businessman, after all.
“You’re William’s grandson? It’s nice to meet you.”
Thistle, Clove, Marcus and I took the opportunity to put some distance between us and Brian, leaving the two men to chat. When we were safely away, Thistle rounded on me accusingly. “You can’t treat him like dirt until we’re sure he’s done something,” she reminded me. “Then we’ll pound him into the dirt.”
“He gives me the creeps.”
“He’s a tool,” Thistle nodded in agreement.
“I think you’re being harsh,” Clove interjected. “I think he’s nice.”
“You think he’s hot,” Thistle corrected her.
“No,” Clove argued. “He’s never done anything to any of us. We shouldn’t treat him like a criminal.”
“You had no problem treating Marcus like a criminal yesterday,” Thistle pointed out sharply.
“That was Bay’s idea.”
“You’re dead to me,” I muttered to Clove.
Thankfully, the conversation didn’t have a chance to diminish any further than it already had. We were interrupted in the middle of what I was sure would be a riotous hair-pulling fiasco by the sound of my phone chiming with an incoming text. It was from Landon.
“What does it say?” Thistle asked curiously.
“They identified the body in the cave,” I said, still trying to wrap my mind around the one sentence text.
“Is it someone we know?” Clove asked worriedly.
“It was Myron’s sister.”
Twenty-Nine
“I didn’t know Myron had a sister, did you?” Thistle looked at me questioningly. I could see her mind working as fast as mine felt like it was toiling.
“No,” I said honestly. I turned to Clove. “Your mom didn’t mention him having a sister, did she?”
Clove shrugged helplessly. “I don’t ever remember anyone mentioning Myron had a sister.”
&
nbsp; “Do we know her name?” Thistle asked.
“According to the text, it’s Ellen.”
“Ellen Grisham? That doesn’t sound remotely familiar,” Thistle mused. She glanced in Marcus’ direction. “Did you know Myron had a sister?”
Marcus looked lost in thought. “Actually, I think my dad mentioned it at one time. I can’t remember how it came up, though.”
I realized I was still holding my phone, so I punched in the number to the inn and waited for someone to pick up. Thankfully, it was Marnie and not Twila who answered.
“Did you know Myron had a sister?”
“Who taught you phone etiquette?” Marnie griped. “You say hello first.”
I blew out a frustrated sigh. “Hello. Did you know Myron had a sister?”
“Of course I knew that Myron had a sister,” Marnie said dismissively. “Everyone knew that.”
“None of us knew that,” I corrected her. “You never mentioned it.”
“How am I supposed to know what you do and do not know? That would be a fulltime job – and I already have a fulltime job.”
Where is a wall when you want to beat your head into one? “Marnie, what can you tell me about her?”
“She was a pretty girl,” Marnie said.
“Well, that’s important,” I said sarcastically.
“She was shy. She was pretty close with Myron,” Marnie continued, ignoring my rampant sarcasm.
“Was she older or younger?”
“Younger, but only like a year younger,” Marnie said. I could hear her talking to someone in the background at the inn. When she came back on the line, she sounded distracted. “What were we talking about?”
“Ellen Grisham,” I reminded her.
“Oh, yeah, I don’t know what you want to know,” Marnie continued. “It all happened a long time ago.”
“What happened a long time ago?”
Marnie was talking to someone in the background again. When she came back to the phone, she was clearly irritated. “It’s really busy here. I can’t talk to you right now. Call back later.”
“Marnie wait . . .”
The sound of the dial tone was my only answer. “She hung up on me,” I said incredulously.
“You look surprised,” Thistle said. “She’s hung up on me three times in the past week alone.”
“Yeah, but I was asking her about something important,” I whined.
“It obviously wasn’t important to her.”
I continued to stare down at the phone, like I expected it to magically come alive with the answers I was looking for. Finally, I snapped out of my trance and looked up at the trio of faces watching me. “I’m going to run to the paper and see if I can dig up anything about Ellen Grisham.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to find anything in the archives?” Clove asked doubtfully.
“I don’t know, but there may be someone there who can help,” I said elusively.
“Who?”
Thistle stomped on Clove’s foot, a move that wasn’t lost on Marcus. “She’s a reporter,” Thistle said sharply. “She has sources.”
Clove looked confused for a few more seconds, and then realization washed over her face. “Oh! Right!”
Marcus looked confused, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
“I’ll see you guys in a few minutes,” I said as I started towards the paper.
“Should you be going alone?” Clove asked. “Landon won’t like that.”
“Well, last time I checked, Landon wasn’t the boss of me,” I said breezily. He really was going to be pissed, though.
Once I got to the paper, I looked around for Edith and William, but I didn’t find either of them. I sat down in my office and booted up my desktop computer. I usually used my laptop, whether I was in my office or not, but I had left it back at the guesthouse.
I typed Ellen Grisham into a search engine, and waited for the results. Not surprisingly, very little came up – and absolutely nothing that I could be sure was actually her.
“What are you doing?”
I looked up to see Edith sitting in the chair across from my desk. “Did you know Myron had a sister?”
“Ellen,” Edith supplied.
“Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know you didn’t know,” Edith said.
“What do you know about her?”
“Not much,” Edith admitted. “I was already a ghost by then, remember? She didn’t spend a lot of time at the paper and I didn’t spend a lot of time outside of this building. Or any time, really.”
“Yeah, but you were haunting the paper even then. You must have heard something,” I prodded her.
“I don’t ever remember hearing anything about her really,” Edith said. “William told me that she tried to help Myron when he came back from the war. She was his only living relative, after all.”
Except for William, if that little tidbit was true. “But she couldn’t?”
“I don’t think anyone could.”
“What did everyone think happened to her?”
“What do you mean?” Edith looked confused.
“Her body was found in a cave the other day.”
“A cave? Who found it?”
I had to remind myself that I hadn’t talked to Edith in days. She was way behind on the gossip. That had to be killing her. “Clove, Thistle and I found it when we were out looking for the stolen money,” I admitted.
“Did you find the money?” Edith looked interested. I had no idea why, it’s not like ghosts could go on a shopping spree.
“No.”
“But you found Ellen’s body?”
“Yep.”
“That can’t be a coincidence,” Ellen mused. “You don’t think Myron killed her, do you?”
That thought hadn’t actually occurred to me. I thought about it for a second, and then I dismissed it. “I don’t think so. I do think someone who knew about the money did it, though.”
“You’re talking about William,” Edith said stiffly.
“No, I’m not,” I corrected her. “I don’t think William was the only one who knew about the money.”
“You don’t?” Edith looked surprised – well, surprised for a ghost.
“Someone killed Myron after William was already dead,” I reminded her. “And William is hanging around for a reason. Has he told you why?”
Edith averted her gaze from mine. “Of course not.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying,” Edith charged. “I’m just not sure it’s my secret to tell.”
I didn’t remind her that denying knowledge of something when you really had knowledge of it was technically lying.
“Well, then you get William’s transparent ass in this office,” I ordered. “I need answers – and I need them now.”
“There’s no reason to yell,” William chastised me as he popped into view. He’d clearly been eavesdropping, for at least a little while.
“Enough is enough, William,” I said, trying to slow my heart rate after it had jumped in conjunction with his sudden appearance.
William sighed. “I knew this would come out sooner or later.”
“You knew about the money?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “How did you know that?”
“Myron told me.”
“Myron? Was this before or after he died?” Edith asked.
“After.”
“You’ve seen him?” William looked hopeful.
“I have,” I nodded.
“How is he?”
“He’s lucid,” I said. “Much more lucid than I ever remember him being in life, actually.”
“Of course,” Edith clucked. “Ghosts can’t get drunk.”
“Did he ask about me?” William asked.
“He did,” I acknowledged. “I would have thought he would come and try to find you. Especially since you were his father.”
William visibly blanched. “How did you know that?”<
br />
“Aunt Tillie told me.”
“Your Aunt Tillie is a gossip.” Among other things. “She shouldn’t have told you that.”
“She says Myron didn’t know, but I don’t believe that’s true,” I plowed on. “I think you told him. I think you told him when he came back from the war. I think it was your way of trying to help him – but it just hurt him.” I was going for broke here.
William looked lost. “I tried everything I could think of. He just didn’t want to listen. I think he convinced himself that I was lying.”
“Maybe that’s what he needed to believe,” I suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s easier to believe that the man he looked up to was lying to try and help him out rather than to believe that he abandoned him and never claimed him and treated him like he wasn’t worth being his son,” I pointed out.
William’s face fell in obvious shame. “I wanted to claim him,” William argued. “I wanted to be his father. His mother had already remarried, though. He was already someone else’s son. What could I do?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “You should have done something, though.”
“It’s too late now,” William sighed.
“It’s never too late,” I reminded him. “You weren’t Ellen’s father, too, were you?”
“No, of course not,” William was shocked.
“What do you know about Ellen?”
“She was a good girl,” he said. “She and Myron were close. She couldn’t help him anymore than I could, though.”
“Did she know about the money?”
“I don’t know,” William admitted. “I’m sure Myron told her at some point, though. I think she was already married to Ken by then, though.”
“Ken?” I leaned forward in my chair in surprise. “Not Ken Trask?”
“Yeah. They got married about a year after Myron and Ken returned from the war,” William said. “It didn’t last long, though.”
“And then what happened?”
“I don’t know,” William shrugged. “I don’t think her marriage to Ken was all that happy. She left him after a year and moved away. She never even contacted poor Myron again. I think that’s what really sent him over the edge.”
“She didn’t move away William,” I said, jumping to my feet excitedly.
“Of course she did,” William scoffed. “Ken told me she left him a note and said she wanted a new life and just disappeared.”
Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery) Page 16