Witchy Dreams

by Amanda M. Lee

  Tillie stared at Chris as if he’d suddenly sprouted another head. “What’s a hominid-like creature? I’m not a bigot, by the way. If Bigfoot is gay and wants to dance the night away, I don’t care, so be careful how you answer.”

  “Hominid,” I automatically corrected. “It means ape-like.”

  “Oh.” Tillie scratched her chin. “Our creatures out here look like walking dogs, not apes.”

  Instantly intrigued, Chris took a hurried step toward Tillie. “Have you seen it?”

  “Sure.”

  “What does it look like?”

  “A mangy dog.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “You’ve seen this … Dog Man … yourself?”

  “You’d be surprised at the things I’ve seen over the course of my life,” Tillie replied. “The Dog Man is only one of them. I’ve seen the Loch Ness Monster, too. Nessie was over in the Hollow Creek for a visit a good twenty years ago.”

  “The Loch Ness monster?” I swallowed the urge to laugh because I didn’t think it would go over well. “How did it get here?”

  “It swam.”

  “But … it would’ve had to cross land at some point.”

  “And the ocean,” Jack muttered.

  “So what?” Tillie was clearly losing interest in the conversation. Either that or she didn’t like anyone calling her truthfulness into question. “I’ve seen the chupacabra, too.”

  “Here?” For the first time, doubt crossed Chris’ face. “You saw the chupacabra in Michigan?”

  “Michigan is a perfectly nice state,” Tillie replied. “Even chupacabras like to visit. But all of that has nothing to do with the fact that Penny Schilling wasn’t killed here. She was killed someplace else. And I don’t think the Dog Man did it.”

  “Who do you think did it?” Jack asked, genuinely curious.

  “Most murders are committed by people who know the victim,” Tillie explained. “The motive is generally love … or money … or plain old meanness. Stranger murders are rare. The answers aren’t here. The answers are with the people who knew Penny.”

  “Did you know her?” Something about the way Tillie carried herself made me believe that she did.

  “I knew her mother,” Tillie replied. “She went to school with my girls. They didn’t like one another – which wasn’t uncommon, because my girls are pains in the butt – but I knew the girl to be relatively quiet and easygoing. Penny was younger than Bay, Clove and Thistle, but I saw her around town occasionally even after her mother moved to Bellaire.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Penny?” Tillie shrugged. “She was a quiet girl. I didn’t know her well. I’m not used to quiet girls, because I raised six really loud ones.”

  “How did you end up raising your nieces? What happened to their mother?”

  “She died when they were teenagers. We all lived in the same house before that. I helped raise them from birth.”

  “And your great-nieces?” Jack asked. He appeared to be just as engaged in the conversation as I did. “How did you end up raising them?”

  “Because my nieces picked deadbeats to procreate with, and they needed help raising the little monsters that sprang from their loins,” Tillie replied, causing me to internally cringe at the visual she painted. “I know you think I don’t like the girls – and there are times I want to make each and every one of them eat a pile of dirt – but I would die to protect them.”

  Her vehemence took Jack taken aback, but it made me like her even more.

  “Even Thistle?” Jack asked finally, doubtful.

  “She’s the most like me,” Tillie explained. “It’s normal that she should irritate me most. She’s a good woman with an occasionally evil mind.” Tillie flicked her eyes to the Dandridge, which poked majestically through the trees in the distance. “Clove shouldn’t stay out here. Not until we catch who did this, at least.”

  “We?” Jack arched a confrontational eyebrow. “When did you join the team? You don’t even believe it was Bigfoot.”

  “It wasn’t Bigfoot. I can guarantee that.”

  “We can agree there,” Chris offered. “It was a Sasquatch.”

  Tillie rolled her eyes. “It was a man who was smart enough to at least try to disguise a murder as an animal attack. That rarely works, but … well … he did a good enough job to get you guys out here, didn’t he?”

  “I know you don’t believe, but how do you explain these?” Chris gestured toward the footprints. “A human clearly didn’t make those.”

  “No, probably not,” Aunt Tillie conceded. “At least not the way you think. Footprints can be faked. I should know. I’ve been faking footprints for more than a year to throw ‘The Man’ off the track when I’m harvesting my crops.”

  And back to the gardening. “And just what do you grow?” I asked.

  Jack’s smirk told me he’d already figured out the answer … or at least an approximation of the truth. “She grows a variety of plants, don’t you, Ms. Winchester?”

  Tillie’s smile was genuine when she graced Jack with a grin. “I have varied interests,” she confirmed. “I think I like you.”

  Jack balked. “Like how?”

  “Not in a perverted way.” Tillie made a clucking sound in the back of her throat. “I would like you for one of my younger girls if they weren’t already taken. How do you feel about older women? None of my nieces are linked to men right now – although Terry will eventually be a full-fledged member if I had my way.”

  “Chief Davenport?” I smiled at the picture. “Is he close with your family?”

  “Closer than most.” Tillie bobbed her head. “If you like older women, I think you’d make a good match for Marnie.”

  “I’m going to say thanks … but no thanks,” Jack said, his cheeks turning crimson. “It’s a very nice offer, though.”

  “You remind me of Landon.” Tillie said the words so low that I wondered if she meant to utter them aloud. “He was snarky and standoffish when we first met him, too. You look like him … and you have the same feel. I can tell you’re a good man.”

  “What about me?” Chris asked, his tone needy.

  “You’re a good man who tends to get lost in the clouds,” Tillie replied. “You remind me of Twila, which means you can’t be with her because you’ll spend all of your time lost in the clouds and forget what it’s like to plant your feet on solid earth. Two floaters can’t be together, because someone needs to serve as an anchor.”

  “I … didn’t really consider dating Twila,” Chris said. I could practically see him picturing the redheaded woman with the scattered personality as he wrinkled his nose. “I was only asking what you saw when you looked at me.”

  Tillie’s smile was mischievous. “Trouble.”

  Seven

  We met the rest of the group at the Hemlock Cove diner shortly after noon. I spent most of the morning helping Chris search for additional footprints and grilling Tillie Winchester on her family and what it was like living in Hemlock Cove. She answered every question, yet told me very little. She was happy to discuss her great-nieces and the various ways she enjoyed making them pay for personal transgressions, but she revealed very little actionable material.

  Once we hit town she waved us off, saying she would find her own way home before skulking off in the direction of something called The Unicorn Emporium. I had no idea what the store sold, but I doubted Tillie could stir up trouble in a kitschy store. She looked determined as she glared at an elderly woman selling her wares behind the counter, though, and didn’t so much as spare a glance for us before disappearing.

  “Should we be worried?” I asked Jack as we walked toward the diner. “We said she would be safe with us. Now she’s wandering all over town on her own.”

  Jack wasn’t nearly as concerned. “She’s an adult. She’s allowed to do whatever she wants.”

  “I know that. It’s just … what if she gets lost?”

  “She’s lived here her whole life.”


  “How will she get home?”

  “I have a feeling she knows plenty of people who can give her a ride.”

  “What if something happens to her?”

  Jack’s expression softened when he registered my worry. “She’ll be fine. She knows how to handle herself. You saw her in the woods. She kept a keen eye open even when you were grilling her about her background.”

  “I was not grilling her. I wasn’t!” I hated the dubious curve of his eyebrow and huffed out a ragged sigh as he held open the diner door to usher me inside. “I simply find her fascinating.”

  “I’m sure she gets that a lot.” A small smile played at the corner of Jack’s lips. “She seems to enjoy being the center of attention.”

  The diner was half full, which was a relief because we wanted to talk openly. We secured a large table at the center of the dining area. We’d just managed to sit down and peel off our coats when the door opened to allow Landon and the police chief entry.

  “Maybe we can get them to sit with us,” I whispered, drawing Jack’s eyes to the door. “They might share information if we offer them a friendly lunch.”

  Instead of clapping me on the back and telling me it was a great idea, as I expected, Jack’s eyes filled with mirth. “Oh, what a diabolical plan.”

  I pressed my lips together, annoyed. “I only meant … .”

  “I know what you meant,” Jack said, cutting me off. “Charlie, you’re new at this so I’ll forgive the really odd enthusiasm, but they’re either going to share information or keep certain things to themselves. Soup and a sandwich won’t change that.”

  “But … .”

  “I think you have a little crush on Agent Michaels, which is cute, but he’s clearly happy with his blonde. If they want to sit with us they’re more than welcome. We don’t need to go out of our way to invite them.”

  Well, that was a little condescending. “I don’t have a crush on him.”

  “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

  “It’s no different than the way you look at his girlfriend,” I hissed, expressing myself a little more emphatically than necessary. When I risked a glance at Landon and Chief Davenport I found the FBI agent staring at me. I quickly squared my shoulders and mustered a smile. “Won’t you join us?”

  Jack made a small groaning noise, but matched me smile for smile. “Plenty of room,” he offered.

  Landon glanced around, clearly conflicted, and then nodded. “Sure. That sounds good.”

  “There’s an open seat over here,” Laura offered, winking as she patted an empty chair.

  Landon shoved Chief Davenport in that direction and took the open seat next to Jack, purposely ignoring the one on the other side of me. “What have you guys been doing so far today?”

  “Hanging out with Tillie Winchester,” Jack replied, grinning at the memory. “She’s … funny.”

  “That’s not a word I would use to describe her, but she has her moments,” Landon said dryly. “Did she do anything odd?”

  “Define odd.”

  Landon ran his tongue over his teeth and tilted his head to the side, as if conducting some form of internal debate. “You’d know if she did anything odd. Where is she, by the way?” He glanced around the table. “You didn’t leave her out there, did you?”

  “Of course not,” I sputtered. “She took off when we hit town. She said she would find her own way home.”

  I expected Landon to be upset by the news, but he barely blinked. “Okay.”

  “I told you,” Jack snickered.

  “You’re not worried about her?” I was mildly incensed on Tillie’s behalf. “She’s elderly. What if she forgets where she is and wanders into the woods?”

  Landon snorted, seemingly amused by the question. “She’s only elderly when she wants to put one over on strangers and new acquaintances. She’s fine. Her mind is sharp, and she’ll have no problem getting a ride back to the inn.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because she’s Aunt Tillie,” Landon replied matter-of-factly. “Even the zombie apocalypse couldn’t claim her. She’ll be fine. Bay and Thistle are in town to give her a ride if she needs it. I saw Kenneth’s car at the senior center. That’s probably where she headed.”

  “Who’s Kenneth?” Jack asked.

  “Her boyfriend … sometimes.”

  “She has a boyfriend?” Jack looked as if he would fall over when he let loose with a hearty guffaw. “That guy must be a glutton for punishment.”

  “You have no idea.” Landon smiled at the waitress as she approached. “I’ll have my usual.”

  “Got it.” The waitress turned to Chief Davenport. “You, too?”

  “That’s good.” The chief looked to be in a serious discussion with Bernard, the two of them getting along well, but Landon appeared uncomfortable in what should’ve been an easygoing setting.

  I waited until all of the orders were placed to fix my full attention on him. “What did you guys find out today?”

  “We spent the morning at the medical examiner’s office,” Landon replied, toying with his crinkled straw wrapper. “There are some abnormalities that he’s having trouble explaining.”

  Chris visibly perked up. “Abnormalities?”

  Landon nodded. “It looks as if the injuries to Penny’s throat were inflicted after her death, as we suspected.”

  “That would indicate a human did the deed,” Jack noted.

  Landon nodded in agreement. “There was, however, animal DNA in the wound that the doctor can’t quite pinpoint. It’s all mixed up – like perhaps it was multiple animals – so they’re running additional tests.”

  Jack’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as Chris excitedly slapped the table.

  “Are you serious?” Chris almost knocked over his chair he was so worked up. “Can we have a sample of the DNA?”

  Landon remained dubious and calm. “You’ll have to talk to the medical examiner about that.”

  “I’ll head over there after lunch,” Hannah offered. She looked almost as excited as Chris did. I realized I liked her. Er, well, I liked what I knew of her. She seemed sweet, kind and smart. She was also oblivious to her looks, which made the fact that she was so beautiful easier to swallow.

  “How will you approaching the investigation?” Laura asked Landon, her eyes predatory as they roamed the strong planes of his face.

  “We’re heading to the resort this afternoon,” Landon replied. “We’re not focusing on any suspect or scenario at present. The medical examiner couldn’t identify the DNA, so we have to wait for another test to get some actionable results. That means we’re tackling the investigation as we would any other.”

  That was an odd way of putting it. I opened my mouth to ask a follow-up question, but was momentarily distracted by movement in front of the diner’s big window. Tillie Winchester scurried past, moving faster than I would’ve thought possible given her age, while casting a worried glance over her shoulder. The movement wasn’t lost on Landon.

  “What is she doing?” Jack asked, concerned. “Should we help her?”

  Landon remained seated when he saw another senior citizen – I was fairly certain it was the woman from the unicorn store – racing in the same direction. “She’s fine.”

  “Who is that?” Millie asked, her eyes widening. “I don’t like the looks of her.”

  Landon and the chief snorted in unison.

  “That’s Margaret Little,” Chief Davenport supplied. “She and Tillie are … lifetime enemies.”

  “Mortal enemies,” Landon corrected. “They’re fine. Mrs. Little won’t catch Aunt Tillie. She never does.”

  “But aren’t you worried one of them will have a heart attack?” Bernard asked. “I know I’m no spring chicken, but that’s a lot of effort for ladies of advanced age to be expending.”

  “Oh, please use that ‘ladies of advanced age’ line on Aunt Tillie when you see her at the inn later,” Landon pleaded, amused. “They’re fine. At lea
st no one has a chainsaw this time.”

  Chris’ eyes widened to comical proportions. “A chainsaw?”

  “Nothing is worse than the time Tillie decided she was going to make fireworks and turn Margaret’s store into the Fourth of July,” the chief explained. “But Landon is right, Tillie is fine.”

  As if on cue, Tillie appeared in front of the window again. She wasn’t alone. She had a clearly complaining Thistle trailing behind her. I couldn’t hear what the teal-haired woman said, but she obviously wasn’t happy.

  “See.” Landon bobbed his head. “Reinforcements have arrived.”

  “I thought they hated each other,” Laura challenged, staring at the two women as they disappeared back in the direction of The Unicorn Emporium.

  “Tillie says she doesn’t hate Thistle, only dislikes her most of the time,” I offered.

  “She loves Thistle,” Landon corrected. “Thistle makes it hard to like her a lot of time. Aunt Tillie and Thistle like to … um … play games, if you will. They both have evil minds.”

  “But good hearts?” I asked hopefully.

  Landon shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  As if she heard him through several feet of brick and glass, Thistle popped up in front of the window a second time and glared into the diner. Landon shifted uncomfortably when her eyes found his.

  “Criminy! What are they even doing out there?”

  “They’re fine,” Chief Davenport admonished. “If you spent as much time in town as I do you’d be used to this. It happens about three times a week.”

  That’s when Bay, her blond hair shining in the sun, joined the small group. She screwed up her face in concentration as Thistle said something to her. Bay’s mouth dropped open and she glanced over her shoulder, clearly barking something at someone standing just out of sight.

  “Who is she talking to?” Bernard asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hannah answered, but it’s like a television show on mute.”

  “Like a soap opera, to be more exact,” Landon grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll handle this.”

  “Yes, you should truly terrify them when you punish Bay with kisses,” the chief drawled. “Don’t do that, by the way. You know I don’t like it.”