Any Witch Way You Can

by Amanda Lee[murder]

  “Well, we never cut our own hair again, did we?” Thistle said reasonably.

  “I didn’t touch scissors for ten years,” Clove admitted.

  “I’m not comfortable with my hair dresser coming at me with scissors even now,” I countered ruefully.

  “She’s getting old,” Thistle chided. “She probably already forgot what she was mad at you about. Maybe she’ll just swear at you a couple of times, kick you in the shins and move on?”

  That would be nice – but I knew I wouldn’t be that lucky.

  I finally swallowed as much fear as I could – shoving it down into an uncomfortable mass in the pit of my stomach – and wandered into the den. I wanted to sigh out loud when I saw that the room was happily vacant. “Why didn’t you tell me no one was in here?” I hissed at Thistle.

  “Because that would have been the nice thing to do,” she said simply. “I’m feeling anything but nice tonight.”

  What makes tonight different than any other night? She really is my least favorite cousin.

  “I agree with Thistle,” Clove said with an uneven smile. “Watching you get terrorized by Aunt Tillie is pretty much going to be the highlight of my evening.”

  And yet I liked Thistle better than Clove.

  I stiffened when I heard a pair of heels clacking on the hardwood floor coming from the kitchen. I didn’t release the breath I’d been holding hostage until I caught sight of Twila. She smiled warmly when she saw us all. When her gaze met mine, though, I swear I saw a hint of sympathy flash across her face.

  “Hi mom,” Thistle greeted her. “Is Aunt Tillie on a rampage after Bay, or what?” Thistle never met a thought she didn’t immediately utter.

  “Whatever do you mean, dear,” Twila feigned ignorance. She never met a lie she didn’t immediately bungle.

  “Yeah, that doesn’t work on us, mom,” Thistle admonished her. “We know when you’re lying – and you’re telling a big old whopper right now. Besides, we already heard Aunt Tillie is gunning for Bay.”

  “Who told you that?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Well, Edith herself told Bay. Then Chief Terry might have mentioned something to her when she stopped by his office this afternoon. Oh, and let’s not forget that you told me that very thing over the phone when you talked to me this afternoon,” Thistle’s voice was practically dripping with sarcasm by the time she was done with her diatribe.

  “No one likes a bitch, dear,” Twila said in a saccharine voice as she patted Thistle a little too harshly on the cheek. “You’ll never find a man if you talk down to him like that. Of course, any man you find right now would have to look past your hair and try to find the warmth inside you, anyway. That might be too might of a task for most men.”

  “Yep, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” Thistle chastised herself.

  “It could be worse,” Twila countered. “At least your Aunt Tillie isn’t looking to exact revenge on you.”

  Great. Now I felt much better.

  I puttered around the den while Thistle and Clove moved to the kitchen door. Clove cast a long glance back at me and smiled. “Are you coming?”

  “In a minute.”

  “Just suck it up and get it over with. Maybe if you beg she’ll give you a shorter sentence.”

  “You’re my least favorite cousin,” I informed her angrily.

  “That will only last until Thistle pisses you off and we both know it,” Clove said absently. “You’ve been dead to me three times this month and she’s been dead to me two times this month – which I guess means that she’s due.”

  My family has some pretty faulty logic in the grand scheme of things.

  Despite my rampant misgivings, I reluctantly followed Thistle and Clove into the kitchen. I glanced around the room nervously. My mom was at the stove stirring what looked like gravy. Marnie was at the counter mashing potatoes. Twila was at the other counter transferring stuffing from the skillet to a big serving bowl.

  “Mm, something smells good,” Clove murmured, inhaling excitedly. “Is that meatloaf I smell?”

  “Yes,” Marnie said. “We thought, given all that’s going on in the town, people would feel better if we had some nice, old-fashioned comfort food.”

  You can’t argue with food logic – especially when it’s spot on. Who doesn’t love mashed potatoes?

  I saw Thistle lean over the pan of meatloaf and wrinkle her nose distastefully. “I don’t like meatloaf,” she complained.

  “Then eat the mashed potatoes, stuffing, creamed spinach, salad and the peach cobbler we made for dessert,” Twila frowned at her. “You’ll hardly starve.”

  Thistle looked appropriately abashed. I thought now might be a good time to distract everyone by making them look at something else – like Thistle.

  “Didn’t you say you were thinking of becoming a vegetarian?” I said the comment innocently enough, but Thistle knew exactly what I was doing.

  “No,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Marnie had practically dropped the handheld masher into the bowl when I’d uttered the words. “A vegetarian?” The horror in her voice was evident. She was reacting like I said Thistle had decided to become a pedophile or something. This was a good start.

  “That’s not true, is it?” Twila looked equally upset.

  “Bay is just trying to distract everyone because of Aunt Tillie,” Thistle shot back.

  “I bet Aunt Tillie won’t want to hear the news about you becoming a vegetarian.” I winked at Thistle cheekily.

  Thistle narrowed her eyes at me dangerously.

  “I think she’ll be more upset when she finds out that it was your idea for Edith to come up here and bug her,” Thistle shot back.

  “I already know that,” a cranky voice grumbled. Crap! Aunt Tillie had just swung into the room like a tiny little Energizer Bunny on a mission.

  “Thistle’s becoming a vegetarian,” I boldly announced.

  Aunt Tillie froze despite herself. “A vegetarian? Meaning you’re only going to eat rabbit food? Like you’re going to walk around munching on carrots?”

  Point for me.

  “No,” Thistle said harshly. “I just said that I don’t like meatloaf. I never said I was going to become a vegetarian. Bay is just trying to distract you.”

  “Not true. Didn’t you say that the venison stew they made last week tasted like feet? And it made you want to not eat meat for an entire week, didn’t it?”

  Thistle froze. She had said that.

  Thistle glared at me harshly. It was all out war now. “Bay told Edith the best way to get you was to sing when you’re trying to sleep.”

  That was a blatant lie. “Thistle said that eating a burger is like murdering a child.”

  Okay, that was a blatant lie, too.

  “Bay told me that you guys used to have a pot field behind the herb garden!”

  Whoa, where did that come from?

  Mom, Marnie and Twila all reared back in shock. I turned to see Chief Terry standing behind all three of them. He had obviously walked in at the tail end of the conversation. His face had turned bright red.

  “Who told you that?” Marnie hissed, turning on me aggressively.

  “Apparently it’s common knowledge,” I lied. I refused to even look in Chief Terry’s direction. They would know if I did.

  Aunt Tillie had narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits. Thankfully, though, they weren’t resting on me.

  “You told me that was oregano!”

  I saw my mom swallow hard in the shadow of Aunt Tillie’s fury. I couldn’t help but feel a momentary shot of relief – but it was short-lived. Thistle had sold out our mothers to save her own ass. Well, to save both our asses, actually. Well, on second thought, maybe it wasn’t so bad. It’s not like they hadn’t done the same thing to the three of us on previous occasions.

  “We never told you that was oregano,” Marnie countered. “You asked us if that was oregano. We just didn’t correct you.”

  “N
o, I asked you if it was pot. I said I hoped it was oregano,” Aunt Tillie was practically seething.

  “Well, we gave you your wish,” Twila twittered. “You should be happy. We made you very happy that day.”

  Now I see where Clove, Thistle and I get it from. It’s really scary what things get passed from one generation to the next – like lying.

  “I knew it,” Aunt Tillie blew out her rage in an exaggerated sigh. “I knew the minute you uprooted it that something was going on. Then I saw that it sprouted up again last spring behind the creek, off in the corner by weeping willow, and I knew you’d been lying to me all along.”

  Thistle turned her eyes and met my gaze with a look of incredulity on her face. They hadn’t destroyed the field. They had just moved it. We both turned our eyes to Chief Terry. He obviously was having an internal debate about what he had and had not just heard. I still didn’t think my mom, Marnie and Twila had any idea he was in the room. If Aunt Tillie knew, she certainly didn’t care. I couldn’t help but wonder if the guests were out in the dining room listening to us rip each other to shreds.

  “What field? We didn’t move the field.” My mom is the worst liar of the seven of us.

  “Really? Did it sprout wings and move itself?”

  “Magic is a wondrous and mystical thing. Maybe it did?” Twila was desperately grasping at straws. Okay, maybe she was the worst liar.

  “And why would the pot be so desperate to save itself?” Aunt Tillie was about to throw down on all of us. I just knew it.

  “It has medicinal purposes. It knew we might need it,” Twila said sincerely.

  Oh, very nice.

  Thistle had apparently decided she’d had enough of the conversation. “Oh, who cares if they have a pot field? As long as they’re not selling it to the kids in town, it’s really not a big deal.”

  “Pot is a gateway drug, young lady,” Aunt Tillie pointed her gnarled finger in Thistle’s direction. “They’ll get addicted and then they’ll try harder drugs.”

  “They’re in their fifties,” Clove shrugged. “If they haven’t experimented further at this point, they’re not going to do it now. It’s not like they’re all going to pack up in the Scooby van and go on the never-ending search for shrooms – or acid.”

  Aunt Tillie turned her evil eye on Clove. “You seem to know an awful lot about drugs, young lady.”

  Clove’s face drained of color when she realized Aunt Tillie was now focused on her. “I saw it on television,” she said hastily.

  “Quite frankly, I’m relieved,” Thistle added. “At least now I know that it was the pot that led to all that naked dancing in the woods. Otherwise it was just weird.”

  Aunt Tillie shushed her with a single look. Then she turned her gaze to me, a look of frank consternation on her face. Uh-oh. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” she said.

  “I’m just appalled at the lack of judgment this family has shown,” I said. “I mean, drugs, how terrible – and unexpected – how terribly unexpected.” Okay, maybe I’m the worst liar in the family.

  Clove and Thistle shot me death glares. I did feel a little bit like a hypocrite.

  “Oh, stuff it,” she muttered. “You’re only saying this because you know I’m pissed about the Edith situation - -and I will exact revenge for that at a later date – don’t think I won’t. You sent that stick thin ghost out here to haunt me because you knew it would upset me and you’re only happy when you’re upsetting me.”

  I had begun slashing my hand across my chest to cut her off the second I realized the road the conversation was going to take us down. She obviously didn’t get the gesture, though. “And don’t think I don’t know that’s some newfangled way to tell me to go fuck myself. I know what the kids today are doing.” Obviously.

  I turned to Chief Terry, fear was written all over my face. What would he say? How would he react? Maybe he’d just think she was a crazy old lady.

  My mom, Twila and Marnie seemed to notice that I was looking in the other direction. They were stunned when they saw Chief Terry at the door.

  “Did I mention I invited Chief Terry to dinner?” I asked lamely.

  Aunt Tillie turned and met Chief Terry’s steady gaze. “It’s not like he didn’t know we were weird already. Stop crapping yourselves,” she admonished. “Bay talks to ghosts. So do I. Edith Harper is a ghost that haunts the paper. Bay recently convinced her to come up here and start haunting me as a joke – only it’s not funny at all.”

  If Chief Terry was surprised by Aunt Tillie’s small speech, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled at every woman in the room in turn – six of whom were currently drowning in a sea of silent panic – and then he finally spoke in a clipped an even tone. “Is that meatloaf I smell? It smells delicious.”

  An audible release of pent up breath could be heard amongst all of us. Chief Terry took a bowl of green beans and carried them from the kitchen into the other room. We all made a move to follow suit. Everyone was carrying a separate dish when we paused at the kitchen door and exchanged worried glances.

  “Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in,” my mom said.

  “Maybe he’s not going to say anything,” Twila, the eternal optimist, offered.

  “Maybe he just doesn’t care,” Aunt Tillie practically growled. She gets grumpy when she doesn’t get fed at exactly 7 p.m.

  We diligently walked into the dining room to find the entire cadre of inn guests already seated at the dining room table. They’d been sitting stock still and watching the kitchen door expectantly. Uh-oh.

  They all broke into spontaneous applause when they saw us. A couple even got to their feet.

  I moved around the table, despite my confusion, and lowered the meatloaf dish to the table before my hands suffered serious burns. The dish was hot. I turned to Emily, the girl who had discovered Shane’s body with me, in confusion.

  “Why are you clapping?”

  She didn’t get a chance to answer. The young woman from Hypnotic that afternoon did it for her. “I love dinner theater!”

  Nineteen

  Instead of correcting the dinner guests, we all made a tacit agreement to pretend the ugly scene that had just transpired in the kitchen was exactly what they thought it was – entertainment for the masses – and nothing else.

  We all managed to make it through dinner without cracking – or cracking up – but there was a decided pall across the table.

  The female shopper from Hypnotic – I found out her name was Carrie – wouldn’t stop asking me if we’d ever had formal theater training.

  “There’s not really any formal theater training out here,” I said ruefully.

  “But you were all so good,” she gushed.

  “Just a lot of practice, I guess,” Thistle laughed. There was true merriment behind Thistle’s laugh – but it wasn’t for the reason that Carrie thought.

  It was obvious that Aunt Tillie wasn’t exactly happy about our ruse. She sat at the end of the table, arms crossed obstinately across her chest, and she made periodic snorting sounds when people kept referring to our “marvelous performances.”

  Chief Terry was sitting in between Marnie and Twila – and across from my mom – and he kept shooting wary glances towards Aunt Tillie, but he didn’t say anything. Even when the crowd started questioning him about the murders, he answered their questions in a reassuring manner – but he never did give them the inside tidbits that they truly wanted. I realized that he was better at holding things close to the vest than I ever realized.

  After the main course, I managed to extricate myself from the situation. I said I had to get some sleep because I had to get most of the articles for this week’s edition of the paper prepared tomorrow. Everyone knew that Wednesdays were my busy day – so they really didn’t put up much of a fuss about it.

  “I’ll send a slice of cobbler home with Thistle and Clove so you can have a snack later,” my mom said as I was leaving.

  My reasons for leaving weren’t exactly a lie. I
was exhausted. I also wanted a little time to myself to think. I made my way back to the guesthouse, changed into my blue flannel sleeping pants and a tank top, and braided my hair quickly so it wouldn’t get all snarled during the night. I debated washing my makeup off – but that was one rule I usually followed, out of habit, if nothing else.

  I had just settled into bed when a thought occurred to me: I hadn’t seen Shane and Sophie since this afternoon.

  Huh.

  Maybe they were still with Edith? Could something bad happen to ghosts? I didn’t think so, but I really couldn’t rule it out either. Crap! It’s not like I could pick up a phone and call them.

  I climbed out of bed tiredly. I would like to forget the whole thing, roll over and get some sleep. I knew that wasn’t even remotely possible, though. As long as my mind remained busy with worries about their whereabouts, I wouldn’t be able to drift off. Sophie had been too excited to meet Aunt Tillie to purposely miss dinner.

  I slipped into a pair of tennis shoes – but I didn’t change out of my pajamas. It was after dark. No one would be at the paper except the ghosts – and I wasn’t exactly worried about what they would say about my choice in sleeping apparel.

  I grabbed a hoodie off the hook on the wall as I exited. I thought briefly about leaving a note on the counter for Thistle and Clove, but I had a feeling I would get back to the guesthouse before they did.

  During the drive to the paper, I pondered the day’s events. We knew we had two killers – a man and a woman – and if Sophie was right, they didn’t plan on killing anyone else. Why kill two kids in the first place then? It didn’t make any sense.

  The other thing I couldn’t quite let go of was Chief Terry’s brief comments about the meth trade. Did the new visitors in town really have nothing to do with the murders? Could they only be tied to the drugs? Is it possible they were tied to neither?

  Thanks to a quick bout of curiosity, I swung my car right – so I would drive past the Johnson farm – on my way to town. It added about two miles to my trek – but I wanted to make sure that no one was out at the scene – including Sophie and Shane.