Murder Most Witchy
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Book 10
Amanda M. Lee
WinchesterShaw Publications
Copyright © 2017 by Amanda M. Lee
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Prologue
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
20. Twenty
21. Twenty-One
22. Twenty-Two
23. Twenty-Three
24. Twenty-Four
25. Twenty-Five
26. Twenty-Six
27. Twenty-Seven
28. Twenty-Eight
29. Twenty-Nine
30. Thirty
31. Thirty-One
Mailing List
About the Author
Books by Amanda M. Lee
Prologue
Late September
“I need to borrow a shovel.”
Aunt Tillie, her face blank, didn’t offer a greeting when I opened the guesthouse door and stared at her. In truth, I didn’t expect her. My boyfriend Landon Michaels was due to arrive any second and I looked forward to spending a quiet night alone with him. I cooked and everything.
Okay, I ordered a pizza and baked cookies that originated from a cardboard tube from the grocery store, but that’s the same as cooking. Either way, I knew Landon wouldn’t complain. We rarely get to spend the night completely alone, an entire evening when we enjoy each other and don’t worry about my family causing a scene or demanding time. He would’ve eaten cold cereal without complaint if it came down to it.
I knit my eyebrows and locked gazes with my great-aunt. “Why do you need a shovel? You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”
Don’t laugh. It’s a fair question. My great-aunt may be elderly – although she claims she’s only middle-aged – but she’s responsible for a dead body or two. Sure, as far as I know those deaths have been in the name of self-defense (kind of), but I learned a long time ago not to rule anything out when dealing with the Winchester witches.
Oh, that’s right. I’m a witch. My name is Bay Winchester and I come from a long line of witches who find more joy in causing toil and trouble than love and laughter. What can I say? Sometimes being naughty is more fun than being nice. That doesn’t mean we’re bad. It simply means we’re prone to drama and hijinks.
“Do I get involved in your personal business?” Aunt Tillie asked, screwing her face into a dark expression. “I need a shovel. I don’t need conversation about the shovel.”
Instead of kowtowing to her demands, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared her down. “Why do you need a shovel? If you’re going to dispose of a body I think you should find a river or lake instead. You need to dig deep if you don’t want a body to be discovered, and that takes a lot more work than most people realize.”
“Oh, well, that’s what I like to hear my girlfriend talking about when I arrive for a weekend visit.” Landon Michaels, his long hair brushing the tops of his shoulders, planted a kiss on my mouth as he edged around Aunt Tillie and into the guesthouse.
The guesthouse is essentially a small ranch house on the family property, within walking distance of the inn my mother and aunts run, but still far enough away that my cousin Thistle and I – we live in the guesthouse together – can pretend we have privacy. We don’t, really, but it’s always nice to live in a land of make believe when you’re surrounded by busybodies.
“You’re here.” I couldn’t help but be relieved as I watched Landon drop his duffel bag on the living room floor. “I was starting to worry.”
Landon arched an eyebrow, amused. “You were starting to worry?” He shifted his eyes over his shoulder and focused on Aunt Tillie. “Why? What did she do?”
Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes, making a face only a family member could love – and from my perspective, she was pushing it. “What did I do? Why do you think I did anything? I’m an angel.”
Landon remained unconvinced as the sky, visible through the open door, lit up with a bright flash of lightning. “The storm is almost here … and it’s going to be a big one.”
“That’s why I was worried.”
Landon pursed his lips as he leaned closer and kissed the end of my nose. “I wouldn’t have missed our weekend together for anything. You know that. Try not to get yourself worked up about things that will never happen.”
“Like a sharknado?” I teased, grinning.
“Exactly.”
“A sharknado is totally possible,” Aunt Tillie countered, planting her hand in the middle of Landon’s chest to stop him from getting too comfortable with me in her presence. “Before you two start smooching it up, I came here for a reason, and I’m not leaving until I have my shovel.”
As an FBI agent, Landon is sworn to uphold the law, and he takes his job seriously. He barely batted an eyelash when Aunt Tillie demanded a shovel. He didn’t outright dismiss the request either. “Why do you need a shovel?”
“Do I get involved in your private business?” Aunt Tillie challenged.
“Every single day I’m here.”
“You’re such an exaggerator,” Aunt Tillie muttered, shaking her head. “I never get involved in your business. I’m the queen of minding my own business, in fact. You could learn a thing or two from me when it comes to staying out of other people’s business.”
Landon’s reaction was blasé. “Okay, here’s the situation,” he said, pinning my great-aunt with an “I’m tired, but I can’t let you bury a body without at least pretending to care” look. “Bay wants a private night with just the two of us. Thistle is spending the night with Marcus, and, from the looks of it, she’s already gone. I like the sound of a private night, too, if I’m being truthful.
“You don’t care about our private night, and the fact that you’re down here looking for a shovel could be construed as a bad omen,” he continued. “You tend to find mischief at the oddest of times.”
“I’m pretty sure that was an insult.” Aunt Tillie narrowed her eyes as she puffed out her chest. “I am a model citizen. I’ve never been arrested. I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“I arrested you myself a few weeks ago,” Landon reminded her. He left out the part where he hated doing it and how it resulted in a sour stomach, but that didn’t seem to be important given the circumstances, so I kept my lips zipped and opted to watch the show.
“Oh, right.” Aunt Tillie tapped her bottom lip as she regarded him. They had a tempestuous relationship at best, but she respected him, which was something she would never admit unless desperate circumstances forced her hand. “I forgot about that. You’re kind of a jerk, huh?”
Instead of being offended, Landon merely arched an eyebrow and smirked. He was used to Aunt Tillie’s theatrics and sneaky behavior. He refused to be sidetracked. “Why do you want a shovel?”
“I’m going to garden.” Aunt Tillie answered autom
atically, as if Landon asked a stupid question and she provided the only believable answer.
“Uh-huh.” Landon shifted his eyes to me, unconvinced. “A storm is heading this way.”
“So? I’m no wimp. I can garden in a storm. That’s how we did it back in the day.”
“Ah, the good old days.” Landon’s lips curved as he slipped an arm around my shoulders and tugged me closer. I got the feeling he was buying time as he decided how to respond. A responsible person would be worried about Aunt Tillie taking off in the middle of a storm with a shovel. The odds of her actually burying a body were fairly slim, so it ultimately came down to how much you wanted to know about her extracurricular activities. “Have you killed anyone?”
Aunt Tillie was understandably affronted by the question. “Not today … but the day isn’t over, and you’re quickly worming your way to the top of my list.”
Landon ignored the threat. “Are you going to kill anyone?”
“Probably not.”
“Are you going to do anything illegal?”
Aunt Tillie didn’t answer that question quite as quickly, instead shifting from one foot to the other. “Define illegal.”
“Ugh.” Landon made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “You give me heartburn. You know that, right?”
“I could make something else burn and really ruin your weekend if you’re not careful,” Aunt Tillie countered suggestively.
Landon shot me a worried look and I knew before he opened his mouth that Aunt Tillie had already won. “She can’t do that, can she?”
I held my hands palms up and shrugged. “She can make me smell like bacon, which you consider a reward, so I guess she’s given the idea of punishing you some thought as well,” I pointed out. “That’s the way she rolls.”
“You’re not wrong.” Landon’s eyes were thoughtful as he shifted them to Aunt Tillie. “Do you at least promise not to get caught?”
That was a new one. He usually made her lie, somehow preferring that she pretend she wasn’t about to do something terrible so he had plausible deniability should things make the local news or come under the attention of regional law enforcement officials.
“I promise not to get caught.” Aunt Tillie’s smile was something right out of a horror movie. She clearly was going to do something terrible. “Does that mean I can borrow a shovel?”
“Last time I saw it, it was behind the guesthouse,” Landon replied, quickly losing interest in the conversation as he shifted toward the couch. “It’s probably still there.”
Aunt Tillie looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. “Okay. That’s good. Enjoy your night.” She practically skipped out the front door, causing me to frown as I watched her go.
“Aren’t you worried?” I asked, turning my head to Landon. “She’s going out into a thunderstorm with no coat and a shovel. She doesn’t even have her whistle in case she falls and breaks a hip. Doesn’t that worry you?”
Landon shrugged. “I’ve decided to choose my battles today.”
That sounded ominous. I shut the front door and shuffled in his direction, my eyes keen as I searched his face. “Why today?”
“What?” Landon seemed distracted, as if he was only half present. “What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?” I challenged, moving in front of him. My trouble detector was pinging in all directions and I hated the feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. “I … is something wrong?”
Landon heaved out a sigh – which did nothing to dissuade my worry – and held out his hand. “Come here.”
“No.” The word was out of my mouth before I could think better about uttering it. Landon’s eyebrows flew up his forehead as he locked gazes with me.
“No?”
“You’re about to tell me something terrible. I know it.”
“It’s not terrible,” Landon corrected, keeping his hand in the air and waiting for me to close the distance between us. “Bay, I have something to tell you. I was hoping to save it for the end of the weekend because I didn’t want to ruin things, but that doesn’t look to be an option.”
My heart twisted at his downtrodden expression. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”
The muted weariness plaguing his features moments before shifted, a flash of anger causing me to jolt before Landon turned grim. “No, and I’m sick of you worrying about things like that.” Landon’s tone was cold as he dropped his hand to his knee. “Do you really think I’d come for the weekend, spend all of my time romancing you, and then dump you on my way out of town?”
Well, when he put it like that … . “No,” I hedged. “It’s just … you look serious.”
“I am serious, but what I’m about to tell you is not the end of the world,” Landon explained. “Will you please sit next to me?”
I remained dubious, but did as he asked, keeping my shoulders squared as I awkwardly rested my hands on my knees and stared straight forward.
“Oh, well, that looks comfortable,” Landon muttered, shaking his head. “Bay, this won’t ruin our lives. It’s merely inconvenient.”
I might believe that once he got the words out of his mouth. “So … what is it?”
“I got a new assignment.”
My heart dropped to my stomach as the words washed over me. “Oh. You were transferred, weren’t you?”
Landon shook his head and inhaled deeply – as if courting patience – as my resignation smacked him in the face. “Bay … .”
“You’re moving.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, distressed. “How soon?”
“Bay … .”
I ignored his plaintive tone. “You’re about to say that we can do the long-distance thing and somehow make it work, aren’t you? We both know that’s too hard over the long haul.”
Landon opened his mouth to say something, words that I’m sure he thought would make me feel better, but I didn’t give him the chance.
“When does your transfer go into effect?” I slid away from him a bit, keeping distance between our thighs. I feared I would burst into tears if I touched him … and if I started crying, there was a possibility I’d never stop. “Maybe … um … maybe I can find a job wherever you move. Of course, you didn’t invite me to go, so I guess I’m getting ahead of myself there.”
Landon was quiet for a long time. When I finally found the courage to shift my eyes to him I saw anger reflected in the cool depths of his eyes.
“You don’t want me to come.” The realization hit me like a like a baseball bat to the face.
“You and I are going to have a big fight about this before the night is out, but I refuse to let you sit there and suffer,” Landon said, choosing his words carefully. “I have not been transferred. I am not moving. I’ve simply been given an undercover assignment that could mean I will be away for a week or two.”
“Oh.” I let loose with a shaky sigh as relief washed over me. “Oh … I … oh. That’s nowhere near as bad as I was expecting.”
“Yes, well, you always jump to the absolute worst conclusion,” Landon muttered, dragging a hand through his hair as frustration bubbled to the surface. “Bay, how could you possibly think that I would pick up and move without talking to you?”
“I … .” Crap. He was going to turn this into a thing. I never think before I speak. It’s a family trait, not one of the best Winchester offerings. “You looked upset,” I noted.
“I am upset,” Landon confirmed, scratching his cheek as he regarded me. “I’m not happy about being separated from you for a few weeks.”
“Where will you be?” I hoped changing the subject would give him time to ease up on the anger.
“I can’t tell you that,” Landon replied, his voice soft. “It’s against the rules. I won’t be far if there’s an emergency, though. I’ll be able to call when I can … although it won’t be as often as either of us would like.”
“That’s okay.” I decided to be brave instead of whiny. After
my earlier performance I figured he’d earned it. “I’m sorry I thought … .”
“Yeah, we’re not done talking about that.” Landon breathed heavily through his nose and then opened his arms, tugging me on top of him as he leaned back on the couch. “Bay, I have no intention of ever moving away from you. I can’t believe you’d think that.”
“I just … it’s your job. They can transfer you without notice. You told me that.”
“Yes, but I have a say if I want to move. I’d quit my job before leaving you.”
“You would?” The admission made me feel better.
“I would,” Landon confirmed, pushing my hair from my face. “I love you … although I’m not sure why when you doubt me like this.”
“I didn’t mean to doubt you,” I argued. “I just … .”
“Love me,” Landon finished, his expression softening. “Sweetie, I know you love me.” He tightened his arms around my back and pressed a kiss to my forehead as I shifted to get comfortable. “I don’t know if I should be agitated because you thought I’d leave you or flattered that you almost fell apart at the thought of losing me.”
“I think you should be flattered.”
“Because that means you won’t be in trouble?”
“Yes … and I’m guessing this is going to be our last weekend together for a bit.” I pressed my lips together, reality setting in. “You don’t want to ruin our last weekend together, do you?”
“That right there is low and dirty.” Landon wagged his finger in my face. “You’re manipulating me.”
Murder Most Witchy (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 10) Page 1