Witchy Dreams

by Amanda M. Lee

  “What do you think we’re hiding?”

  “I thought we were going to discover it last night, but all we saw was naked dancing and heavy petting,” I replied, refusing to back down.

  “Who was doing the petting?” Bay was mortified. “I wasn’t paying attention to everyone else.”

  “Then you should know who was doing the petting.”

  Bay’s face was blank. “I … .”

  “It was you and Landon,” I offered helpfully. “You guys were in your own little world. I couldn’t hear what you were saying to each other, but there was definitely some petting.”

  For the first time since the conversation began over breakfast an hour before, Bay finally showed signs of embarrassment. Her cheeks flooded with color as she scratched the side of her nose. “Oh, well, I guess we were feeling a bit … cuddly … last night?”

  I barked out a laugh, genuinely amused. “Cuddly? Is that what you guys call it?”

  “I knew we had an audience, but I kind of forgot,” Bay offered lamely. “Aunt Tillie makes her own wine and it’s stronger than anything you can find in a store. Once you have a few sips of that … whoa, baby … you kind of forget your surroundings.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the embarrassment on her face. “It’s okay. You guys weren’t being gratuitous or anything. In fact, it was kind of sweet.”

  “What was sweet about it? Landon was making up dirty limericks about bacon.”

  “Yeah, he seems obsessed with bacon, huh?”

  “He is, but now that he has an audience he plays to it because it’s easier than discussing the pros and cons of a Bigfoot murder,” Bay explained, holding open the large glass door so I could enter in front of her. “It’s just his thing. He does eat a lot of it, though.”

  “You guys seem happy together.”

  “We are.” Bay’s expression was thoughtful as she met my gaze. “What about you and Jack? Are you happy together?”

  The question caught me off guard. It was so absurd that I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “Jack and me?” I sputtered, legitimately amused. “We’re not together.”

  “You’re not?” Bay didn’t look convinced. “Almost every time I’ve seen you since you arrived, you’ve been with Jack.”

  That couldn’t be right. “I just joined the team,” I explained. “I graduated from college this semester. Technically I haven’t graduated yet. The ceremony isn’t for another two weeks.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Bay’s smile was impish. “I asked about Jack.”

  “And I’m explaining that I barely know him.”

  “That doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.” Bay climbed the stairs that led to the front desk. “I guess you’re not ready to deal with that, this being your first big job and all. When you’re ready, though, don’t look past Jack.”

  “He doesn’t like me,” I argued. “He thinks I’m immature. Last night he yelled at me as if I were a child.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “I … well … Millie convinced me to come to a party out here,” I admitted. “It was on the eighteenth green of the golf course.”

  “So you have been out here before.” Bay wasn’t accusatory, but the way she bobbed her head made me realize she suspected it already. “Were you here yesterday afternoon?”

  “I … yes.” I saw no reason to lie. “Jack wanted to question some of the workers. I saw you staring out a window when we were here. I didn’t approach you because Jack seemed to want to keep it a secret.”

  “Landon figured you guys would come out here,” Bay noted. “It’s okay. You didn’t break any laws.”

  “We used the ambulance code to get behind the property gate.” I lowered my gaze to my feet. “I’m pretty sure that’s against the law.”

  “It’s not a big law. Don’t worry about it.”

  I pursed my lips. “That seems like an odd thing for the girlfriend of an FBI agent to say.”

  “Yes, well, I’m a Winchester first,” Bay offered. “We were taught that the only rule you had to worry about was the one about not hurting others. Little rules were meant to be broken.”

  “Do you still believe that?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Bigfoot? Do you believe in that?”

  Bay shrugged. “I believe there are a lot of magical things in this world that people don’t understand,” she said. “I’m of the mind that you should never rule anything out.”

  “I kind of believe that too.”

  “I know. I can tell.” Bay turned her attention to the bustling lobby. “Now, let’s see if we can find the wife of the bartender, shall we? I hear Penny was shtupping him and the wife most certainly had to know. Let’s go this way.”

  IT DIDN’T TAKE long to realize that Bay Winchester was fun to be around. She showed no nervousness when it came to questioning people – even thinking fast on her feet when confronted by the suspicious head of security about our presence at the resort. By the time we tracked down Phyllis Grimes she was determined.

  “Let me do the talking,” Bay instructed, moving in the woman’s direction with clear purpose.

  “That sounds like something your great-aunt would say,” I pointed out.

  “That’s who I learned from.” Instead of approaching Phyllis with a bright smile, Bay took a different approach. She kept her face impassive as she rested her hands on the other side of the concierge desk. “Are you Phyllis Grimes?”

  The round-faced woman behind the desk was pleasing to the eyes. She was clearly used to disgruntled guests, because she fixed Bay with a bright smile even though Bay took a no-nonsense tone with her. “Can I help you? Is there a problem with your room?”

  “I don’t have a room,” Bay replied. “My name is Bay Winchester. I’m a reporter with The Whistler. Er, actually, I’m the owner now. I’m still getting used to it. That’s a long story, though. That’s the newspaper in Hemlock Cove.”

  Phyllis’ smile slipped. “I’m familiar with it … and now that you mention it, I recognize you.”

  “Great,” Bay said, not missing a beat. “We’re here looking for information on Penny Schilling. She was murdered and her body was dumped behind the Dandridge lighthouse.”

  “I … heard about that.” Phyllis, already pale, turned even whiter. “I’m not with Human Resources, so I don’t know much about her service here.”

  “We have questions,” Bay explained.

  “I’m not authorized to answer questions about Penny’s work history.” Phyllis made a big show of organizing the envelopes on her side of the desk. “You should speak with someone in Human Resources.”

  “I talked to them yesterday,” Bay said. “We also talked to some workers who told us about some of Penny’s more … colorful … avenues of interest. One of those avenues happens to be your husband.”

  Bay’s bold tactics flabbergasted me. I would’ve tried to butter up the woman a bit, but Bay went straight for the jugular. Phyllis’ cold stare told me Bay hit the exact nerve she was after.

  “Are you saying that my husband was involved with Penny Schilling?”

  Bay nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

  “We’re happily married!”

  “That’s not what all of the workers say,” Bay countered. “They say your husband sleeps with everyone, you know it, and that Penny was only his latest conquest.”

  “I … you … I … you can’t say things like that to me,” Phyllis spat, her temper flaring. “My husband is a good and loyal man. He’s a great father.”

  “He also can’t keep it in his pants,” Bay said calmly. “Where were you three nights ago, Mrs. Grimes?”

  Phyllis narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits, lowering her voice as she leaned forward. “You are not a police officer. I don’t have to answer your questions.”

  “That’s fine.” Bay was airy, seemingly unbothered, even though Jim Green, the head of security, was back and watching us from a few feet away. “The police and FBI
will be here to talk to you in a few hours about some new evidence they have. I thought you might want to get your statement on record with the public before that happens.”

  Phyllis jerked her eyes to the door, fearful. “They wouldn’t dare question me here.”

  “They don’t care where they question you, just that they get answers,” Bay countered. “Well, if you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll take what everyone else said and move on from there.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Phyllis grabbed Bay’s arm, digging her fingernails in as she locked gazes with the reporter. “That slut got what she deserved. Everyone knows it. That doesn’t mean I did anything to her. You stay away from my husband and me. Don’t even think of asking him questions. We’re innocent.”

  “Phyllis, don’t let her get to you,” Green ordered, stepping closer to the hysterical woman and keeping his eyes on her rather than us. “You’re playing right into her hands.”

  Bay remained unnaturally calm as she stared into the woman’s eyes. “Where were you three nights ago?” she repeated finally, catching me off guard with the question. I thought for sure she would apologize for upsetting the woman. I was convinced she’d back off. Instead she drilled deeper. “Were you with Penny?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Green snapped, moving behind the desk and grabbing Phyllis’ arm. “Don’t even think about answering that.”

  Phyllis stared into Green’s eyes and then stiffly nodded. “Right. Right.”

  “It’s going to be okay, Phyllis,” Green soothed. “I’ll get rid of them.”

  “You stay away from us,” Phyllis seethed, spittle forming at the corners of her mouth as she fought to regroup. “You’ll be sorry if you don’t.”

  “Like Penny was sorry?”

  “Like … mind your own business!” Phyllis pulled away from Green and turned on her heel, disappearing into the office on the other side of the desk.

  I risked a glance at Bay and didn’t miss the small smile playing at the corners of her mouth or the defiant stare she bored in Green’s direction. “Why did you do that?” I asked, genuinely curious. “She would’ve been more prone to answer if you were nicer to her.”

  “I’ve heard some disturbing things about her,” Bay explained. “One of the young women who is at the diner now worked here for a few months. She said Phyllis attacked her for putting in a drink order with Bob Grimes … even though he’s the bartender and you’re supposed to put your drinks in with him. The woman said Phyllis accused her of sleeping with her husband and threatened her. She said she was crazy.”

  “So you wanted to make her crazier?” That made absolutely no sense to me.

  Bay shrugged. “I want to see what she’ll do. She won’t answer questions and I don’t have the authority to ask the ones I really want to ask. That will be up to Landon and Chief Terry.”

  “So now what do we do?” I asked, confused.

  Bay pointed toward the couch that faced the concierge desk. “We watch and see how she melts down.”

  “You’re kind of mean,” I said, the words escaping even though I was mildly impressed.

  Bay wasn’t bothered. “I learned that from Aunt Tillie, too.”

  Fifteen

  True to her word, Tillie met us at Bay’s car later that afternoon.

  “The chocolate in that place sucks a wizard’s nut,” Tillie announced, tossing a bag of candy in Bay’s direction. “Only give that to someone you hate. It will give you the runs.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as Bay calmly nodded.

  “I’ll drop it in front of Mrs. Little’s store or something,” Bay offered, distracted.

  “That’s a great idea.” Tillie brightened considerably until she took a moment to absorb Bay’s countenance. “What’s wrong, pouty?”

  “How well do you know Phyllis Grimes?” Bay asked, rolling her neck until it cracked. I thought she would keep what happened inside to herself – perhaps embarrassed because she chased off Phyllis – but she appeared to be focused on something else.

  “Phyllis Grimes?” Tillie wrinkled her nose. “That name doesn’t mean a heck of a lot to me. Why?”

  “She’s Bob Grimes’ wife.”

  “Who is Bob Grimes?” Tillie asked, confused.

  “He’s the bartender,” Bay replied. “He was having an affair with Penny Schilling.”

  “And she’s the woman eaten by Bigfoot?” Tillie didn’t look impressed. “Well, was she sleeping around with everyone or just someone else’s someone?”

  “Everyone,” I answered automatically. “She was sleeping with the head of purchasing, the head of security and the chief bartender. The guys we partied with last night also told me that she would sleep with anyone if she was bored.”

  Tillie’s expression turned appraising. “You partied with the manual laborers and got some good information. I couldn’t be more proud if you were one of my own.”

  The compliment caught me off guard. “I … well … thank you.”

  “She’s not done yet,” Bay said dryly.

  “You should’ve asked about the wife,” Tillie added. “She’s obviously the key. How did you approach her, Bay?”

  “Like you would’ve done.”

  “You accused her and she ran and hid?” Tillie tapped her chin. “Hmm. Why did you think I would know this woman?”

  “Because she’s Anna Stewart’s daughter,” Bay replied, her eyes traveling back to the resort’s main door. “She was ahead of us in school by quite a bit. I don’t know much about her. I’m not sure she recognized me before I introduced myself.”

  “She doesn’t live in Hemlock Cove, right?” I was still trying to follow all of the small town familial trails.

  Bay shook her head. “She lives here. I see her in town from time to time – her mother still lives in Hemlock Cove – but I don’t think she spends much time hanging around at town festivals.”

  “Oh, Phyllis Stewart?” Tillie bobbed her head. “I know who you’re talking about. Fat girl? Wears her hair so short that she kind of looks like a pig?”

  Bay heaved a sigh. “You can’t say things like that. She’s not fat. She’s very … pretty.”

  Tillie made a face that would’ve made me laugh under different circumstances. Much like Bay, though, I wasn’t keen on making fun of people’s looks. “Oh, please. You’re such a whiner. I didn’t raise you to be politically correct, Bay.”

  “You raised me to torture my enemies with yellow snow and curses,” Bay countered. “This woman isn’t my enemy, though. From everything I heard about her yesterday, she’s not exactly pleasant. But that doesn’t mean she’s a terrible person. If your husband cheated on you with everything that moved, you’d probably be unpleasant too.”

  “No one would ever cheat on me,” Tillie countered. “I’m a dynamo in the sack. Men have written sonnets about it. I could totally do it professionally if I was so inclined.”

  Tillie Winchester was in her eighties. I didn’t have an exact age, but I was sure of that. To hear her say those words was enough to cause me to double over with laughter.

  “What is she carrying on about?” Tillie asked, annoyed.

  “She thinks it’s funny that you called yourself a ‘dynamo in the sack,’” Bay explained. “She’s trying to picture you doing just that.”

  “Oh, gross.” Tillie smacked my arm. “I didn’t realize you were a pervert. Knock that off or I’ll put you on my list.”

  I had the strength to silence myself and straighten, although just barely. I took a few moments to collect myself and then shifted my gaze to the huge windows at the front of the lobby. I could clearly make out Phyllis Grimes standing in one. She watched us with outright hatred.

  “What do you think we should do?” I asked, once my laughter was contained. “Do you think she’s guilty?”

  “We can’t know that until we know exactly what happened,” Bay answered, resting her hand on top of her car. “We need to talk to Landon.”

  �
��What is he going to do?” I was honestly curious.

  “Other than kiss her and leave her breathless? He eats a lot of bacon and yells like a bossy cow,” Tillie replied.

  Bay shot her great-aunt a dark look. “Don’t say things like that about him.”

  “I was merely testing to see if you were listening,” Tillie countered. “You know I love Landon dearly.”

  Bay narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll deny it.”

  “He’ll believe me because I don’t have a history of lying,” Bay countered.

  “He’ll believe me because I’m mean to him and that will never change.” Tillie threw open the car door and stared inside for a moment. “I want to drive.”

  “Over my dead body,” Bay countered, opening the driver’s side door. “You can drive your own truck when we get back to town.”

  “You’re such a kvetch when you want to be,” Tillie grumbled.

  “I still don’t know what a kvetch is,” I admitted.

  “It’s Bay right now,” Tillie offered. “A whiner and complainer.”

  “Doesn’t that make you the queen of kvetches?” I asked, the words escaping a second before I realized how dumb it was to say something like that.

  Bay’s eyes widened to comical proportions as she risked a glance at Tillie. I realized I was holding my breath and let out a long gasp as Tillie glared at me.

  “I … um … .”

  “Don’t say anything to ruin it,” Tillie said after a beat, turning to face forward. “I’m starting to like you.”

  “That’s high praise indeed,” I teased.

  “I said starting,” Tillie stressed. “That doesn’t mean I won’t put you on my list.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Tillie grabbed the offensive candy and rested it on her knee. “Drop me off in town. I have an errand to run.”

  Bay eyed her, suspicious. “Mrs. Little?”

  “I have other enemies.”

  “Fine. If you get arrested, though, don’t call me.”