Witch of Mintwood Mysteries 7-9

by Addison Creek

  Funnel used his muzzle to indicate a guy in the corner, lounging in a hammock between two tall headstones.

  “Seems disrespectful,” said Charlie.

  “It isn’t. The ghosts don’t mind,” said the dog.

  “He knows the ghosts who live in those graves?” said Charlie. She looked as if her head was spinning.

  “Course he does. You don’t go near someone else’s grave without their permission. It’s just downright disrespectful,” said Funnel.

  “Is he sleeping?” I asked.

  “I doubt it. Probably just lounging,” he said.

  I thanked Funnel and made my way over to meet the missing ghost Burke at last. This always ended up being the hardest part of my job.

  If the ghosts would just wait with their bodies, these murders would be a lot easier to solve. Really, ghosts were a lot like teenagers. You simultaneously wanted them to stay within sight for fear of what would happen if they disappeared, and to disappear so you could get a moment’s peace.

  “Excuse me? Is your name Burke?” I asked as I reached the hammock.

  The lounging ghost nearly fell over when he heard my voice.

  “Yes, that’s me. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting anybody. Dozing off in the sun and all that,” he said.

  Charlie glanced up at the sky.

  “I’m the Witch of Mintwood. I’ve been looking for you,” I said.

  Burke swallowed and nodded. “Oh, yes, well, hello.”

  Burke was young. He couldn’t have been more than thirty years old when he died. He wore a plaid shirt and crumpled shorts. His hair just brushed his shoulders and was very thick.

  “I’m Lemmi. This is my friend Charlie Silver. She’s a reporter with the Mintwood Gazette.”

  “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time,” said Burke, trying to perk himself up a little.

  “It looks as if you’ve done a lot of work to make that happen,” said Charlie dryly.

  “I suppose you could say I’m lazy. I take it you met the beaver?” he asked.

  “I take it you won’t tell me what his name is either?” I said.

  Burke smiled. “No, I can’t do that. He has to introduce himself. Really nice beaver though.”

  “He sure seems it. He also said you knew about your skeleton being discovered. Did you know you’d been murdered?” I asked.

  As I went further and further into investigations, I got less and less interested in beating around the bush. There was no time for it, especially in this case. In a couple of hours we’d be leaving the campground, and our direct link to whoever might have committed the crime would be gone.

  “Yeah, it was kind of a shock. I guess part of me thought I was somehow still alive. I don’t know. It was silly. I really enjoyed hanging out in those woods, though. Then when I heard that my skeleton had been discovered, I got spooked. It wasn’t even as if an investigator could come and speak to me directly. Obviously. Well, except for you two. I didn’t really know what to do,” he explained.

  “Do you not want to know who murdered you?” Charlie asked.

  Burke shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean I guess I kind of do. It’s just that what’s done is done. It’s all kinda stressful you, know? I liked the campground fine, but it wasn’t the most important place in my life. I can’t say I really care about what happens to it now,” he said.

  “So you’re more an outdoorsy type than someone who really cares about that campground as such?” I clarified.

  “Exactly. I’m not selfish, I just don’t care,” he explained.

  “That really clears things up. But if you wanted to talk to Lemmi, why didn’t you wait at the campground instead of sending a message via the beaver?” Charlie asked.

  “I didn’t want to stick around there. It was likely that the murderer would come back. Or was there. Or something,” he said.

  “Did you know you were murdered?” I asked again.

  “No, definitely not. Who would want to murder me?” he said.

  “I couldn’t possibly think of anyone,” said Charlie.

  “Exactly,” he said again. He was chewing on a piece of straw, I now realized. The excitement of meeting us having faded, he had reclined back into the hammock.

  “What can you tell us about that summer? What was going on? Since you now know you were murdered, do you have any idea what would have led someone to do that?” I said.

  “I’ve been thinking about that since I heard what really happened. It was a pretty ordinary summer. I did a lot of hiking and fishing. I helped out around the campground. When guests wanted to go to the woods, I usually went with them, that sort of thing,” he said.

  “Did you ever take any guests onto Norris’s property?” I asked.

  “No. He didn’t like that. I respected that. We had over a hundred acres of our own, so we really didn’t need to go on his property. Sometimes guests would wander over there on their own. Like I said, he didn’t like that. I suppose you’ve already heard about that,” he said.

  Charlie and I nodded.

  “Did he ever get mad at you when guests went on his property?” I asked.

  “No. He knew it wasn’t my fault. He would come over and yell at Cushman, but that’s about it. Cushman never cared,” he said.

  We weren’t really getting anywhere, but I resolved not to give up quite yet.

  “Did you ever go out fishing in Norris’s boat?” I asked.

  “No, I would take one of our own canoes out. I always went with Craig Smith. Norris didn’t fish, as far as I knew,” he said.

  “So, what did he have to be angry about all the time?” Charlie asked.

  “No idea. He wasn’t really a talkative one,” he said.

  “What did you think of Craig and Cushman? What about Mrs. Smith?” Charlie said.

  “All nice enough. Craig and I were buds. He was pretty happy when he got married. I liked his wife pretty well. He really needed to find a girl who didn’t mind if he spent a lot of time in the boathouse. She doesn’t. She also likes the outdoors and being able to do her own thing. They’re a pretty good match,” he said.

  “And what about Cushman?” I asked.

  “No one really liked him. He was the boss, and he had to make sure things kept running smoothly. It wasn’t always that easy for him. Running a campground in Maine is not as easy as you wish it was. He was nice enough, though. When I came by looking for employment, he hired me even though I didn’t have any credentials. He didn’t hold that against me,” he said.

  “Was the campground in financial trouble? Were the employees always paid on time?” Charlie asked. She was getting desperate; this was feeling like another dead end. Compared with the excitement of the night before and fighting Wendell, this excursion was definitely turning out to be a dud.

  The ghost shrugged. “I couldn’t really say that I cared about any of that, to be honest. I wasn’t really paying that much attention. All I needed was a sunny day and some boots and I was good,” said Burke.

  “It doesn’t sound like you had any enemies. There’s also no way to go back and look at your paperwork from then.” Charlie sighed and glanced at me.

  “I guess that’s all the questions we have for now,” I said, taking Charlie’s hint. “If we think of any more we’ll let you know.”

  I was very discouraged. There was no point in continuing this conversation, and we hadn’t found out a single really useful thing.

  Burke crunched on his straw. “I suggest you go unbury my papers.”

  Charlie and I, who were already walking away, looked at each other incredulously and turned back.

  “Yeah,” Burke explained, “I wasn’t much of a one for filing. Never did get into keeping dates and alphabetizing and all of that stuff. But I assume most of my stuff is gone. Mr. Cushman was a neat freak. The second I disappeared he probably threw it all out. Besides, that would be evidence that I had left on my own. He wanted me to leave. I really annoyed the crap out of him.”

  “Yo
u said everything was so chill and relaxed, but you quietly buried papers? And annoyed Mr. Cushman?” Charlie asked, frowning. This actually sounded like it might mean something, although Burke’s story was so inconsistent that I had no idea what to make of it.

  He shook his head. “Can’t say I remember why. All I remember is doing it. I wanted to keep some papers. I buried them around behind the back of the Lodge. There’s a big tree back there that I always used to fall asleep under. It has some green moss on it. I buried the papers under the moss.”

  “What was in the papers?” I said.

  “I don’t remember that either. I just remember thinking it was important that I keep them. I’ve never done anything like that before,” he said.

  “We believe you on that score,” Charlie muttered.

  She rubbed her temples. Burke was a bit hard to follow. He didn’t care about bookkeeping but he had buried papers. He didn’t know what was in the papers, but he knew they were important.

  As we headed back to the car I gave Charlie a sympathetic pat on the back. She hated it when witnesses weren’t helpful. She thought there was a process to interrogation, and people should answer all of her questions with useful information.

  “I can’t believe we drove all the way out here for that,” she said.

  “I think he saved it at the end. Those papers he buried might be important, maybe even the key to this whole mess. Maybe that’s why he was killed,” I said.

  Charlie chewed her lip, still looking disgruntled. “That’s true, I guess,” she muttered. “He hid papers that could really be a clue, or they could just be baseball scores.”

  I laughed. “I doubt it’s as bad as all that. I guess you never know. I just hope those papers are still there and in good condition when we go look.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if they weren’t even there,” she said gloomily. “He probably doesn’t really remember where he buried them. Everybody else at the wedding is going to be eating breakfast while we’re outside digging in the dirt. They’re going to think we’re crazy.”

  “We can get Hansen to help us. He makes everything look official,” I told her.

  “Sure. And if we don’t find something useful we can blame it on him,” said Charlie, cheering herself right up.

  She made the rest of the drive smiling.

  We reached the campground just in time for breakfast. Greer was sitting on the cottage steps talking to Deacon and Hansen.

  “Where were you two off to this fine morning? More trouble to cause?” Deacon asked.

  “Something like that,” I said with a smile.

  “I’m not surprised,” said Deacon.

  “I held down the fort, so to speak,” said Greer.

  “Very good of you,” said Charlie.

  “Where’s Jasper?” I asked.

  “His grandfather called. Some emergency that he needed him to come for right away. He said he’d come back if he could, or stop by the farmhouse later. We are going home soon, aren’t we?” said Greer hopefully.

  Despite her rough exterior, she was not a fan of roughing it.

  I thought about all the stuff we still had to do. For one thing, Charlie’s mystery of the secret society at the Daily Brew had barely been addressed, much less solved. There was also a certain séance that I needed to perform. The witches were coming back tonight. All I could do was wonder what other witch they would bring with them to help us.

  “That’s too bad,” I said about Jasper, my heart sinking.

  Then I roused myself. Everything was probably fine and I’d see him later. Right now it was time to go home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Did you two manage to get back to sleep after your late night partying? We were talking to Greer, here, and she seemed to think everybody slept splendidly,” said Deacon.

  He was looking at me with amusement. I still didn’t think he suspected anything strange had gone on, but Hansen was watching the proceedings with interest. He looked amused, but he also looked like he had his journalistic hat on, and I was suddenly filled with an intense desire not to have him ask any questions.

  With that goal in mind I said, “We were actually off doing some early morning research about the Murder at the Lake Campground.”

  “What did you find out?” Hansen’s eyes instantly sharpened.

  “We have a secret source. We can’t tell you who it is, but he gave us a hint about what to look for,” said Charlie.

  “A source from where? The police?” Hansen said.

  “No, not the police. The police won’t talk to us, Detective Smith assured us of that last night,” said Charlie.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Hansen. “He was here earlier, and he wasn’t too friendly. I think they might be looking to arrest Norris soon. The Stumper parents are pretty keen on seeing an arrest made. They want the culprit who ruined their son’s wedding caught and punished as quickly as possible, and Detective Smith wants to make an arrest that the consulting detective supports so his brother can be cleared.”

  “Making a quick arrest may be the right thing from their point of view, but we just don’t know enough yet. I’d like to look into this information we just got before I come to any conclusions,” I said.

  “Hopefully we have time before the police come back. I don’t know where they went, but Detective Smith told his brother he’d see him soon,” said Hansen.

  My mind was racing. The detective seemed to think that he had this murder locked down. To be sure, Norris was a suspicious character. He didn’t want anybody on his property, ever, and he had a boat. Even if he denied taking Burke out in it, there was no way to prove that he hadn’t; we were just going on his word. Burke seemed to think that he himself was harmless, but he had also angered somebody enough to get murdered. Then again, given that he had no idea who had done it, I could only trust his opinion so far.

  “Okay. You don’t have to tell us who your source is. Just tell us what you’re supposed to be looking for,” said Hansen.

  We gave the guys and Greer an overview of what we had found out.

  “Time’s a wasting,” said Deacon eagerly. “We can go look for the papers, then eat a late breakfast. Come on!” Deacon was suddenly into the investigative spirit, and we hurried after him when he took off for the woods.

  Hansen Gregory fell into step next to me, while Charlie was busy filling Greer and Deacon in. While she was did that, Hansen bent his head down to me and said in a low voice, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you were changing the subject from what happened last night.”

  “I know you’re nothing if not observant,” I said under my breath. I silently cursed Hansen’s observant eyes. Why did he have to notice so much anyway?

  “I figured that since your information about the case was so interesting, I’d let it go,” said Hansen. “If anyone cared what you were doing outside in the middle of the night it would be Jasper and Deacon, but I’m not going to worry about it. Charlie is clearly a free spirit, and if she should ever agree to date me I’m perfectly fine with that, and you all keeping midnight secrets.”

  It was the clearest he had ever been about the fact that he really wanted to date Charlie. We all thought he wanted to, but he had never said so out loud before, at least to me. Why would he?

  Maybe he had said something to his friend Penny at some point, because Penny had made an effort to get to know Charlie when they’d been thrown together in the past. The only one of us who was still oblivious to the possibility was Charlie herself. Sometimes I thought it was willful obliviousness; it really shouldn’t have been that hard to notice by now.

  Hansen didn’t say anything more, and his silence was just fine with me since it left me free to dwell on Jasper’s sudden departure. I hoped his grandfather was okay. I assumed he was, and that Jasper’s closest living relative was simply trying to make it harder for his grandson to spend time with the girlfriend he didn’t approve of.

  By the time my musings ended we had ma
de it around the back of the Lodge.

  “Which tree do you think it is?” Greer asked.

  “Maybe that one?” Charlie said, pointing to a large pine tree with green moss growing at its base. But as it turned out, there were several such trees in the immediate the area, and the indefiniteness of Burke’s instructions made our search slow. We each took a different tree and started looking around it, but none of us saw any signs of disturbed earth anywhere nearby.

  The ground under the trees was covered in old leaves and debris, and it had been a full year since Burke had supposedly buried the super secret papers. So it didn’t surprise me that we weren’t finding clues readily, though I didn’t have to be happy about it.

  The longer we spent looking, the more likely we were at risk of discovery and missing breakfast. But this was important, so in the end, we each took a tree and started digging, trying to be careful not to disturb the trees themselves.

  The Lodge’s windows were starting to fill with wedding guests sitting down to eat. I was concerned that they’d think we were crazy, or even worse, that they’d get curious about what we were doing. So as subtly as I could I went around the far side of the biggest tree, trying to stay out of sight as best I could. Deacon had checked one tree and moved on to a second one further into the woods. It wasn’t long before I heard him cry out gleefully.

  “I found it! I definitely found something!”

  At the exact same moment, Craig came around the side of the Lodge and walked up to us.

  “What are you all doing back here? Reliving the football game?” he asked.

  “We thought we’d take a little walk before breakfast,” said Greer.

  Deacon had dived further into the woods at the sound of Craig’s voice. My heart was hammering in my chest as I wondered if we’d be found out.

  “Why are you digging holes, though?” Craig asked.

  “I thought I lost a ring,” I fumbled around. “No sign of it so far.”

  “I thought you just wanted to take a walk,” said Craig, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  “We just didn’t want to spread the word about my ring until I had a chance to look for it,” I explained.