Bay shifted in her seat to look at me. “That’s a man thing. You can’t let him get away with it. You have to force him to talk to you.”
“Well, I’m not in the mood to talk to him at all right now,” I muttered, shifting my eyes to the window. “He’s a butthead.” I could see Bay’s smile out of the corner of my eye and opted to ignore it. “Landon is right about him being ex-military, though. He was a Marine.”
“So that means that he’s probably intimidating to other men,” Bay mused, tapping her chin and turning to Landon.
“He’s not ex-military. Once a Marine, always a Marine,” Landon nodded as though something had become clearer.
“You had Millie with you, right?” Bay asked.
I nodded. “I can’t see people wanting to approach her either. I find her funny, but she has a cranky persona. From what I can tell, most people find her intimidating.”
“She’s like Aunt Tillie,” Bay noted.
“No one is like Aunt Tillie,” Landon countered. “Millie seems a bit eccentric but mostly stable. Perhaps Shane Norman didn’t approach her simply because he didn’t see her. Maybe he came to town to find anyone from your group and happened to stumble across you first.”
“I don’t understand why he would do that,” I said. “How does he think we’ll be able to help him?”
“Good question,” Landon said. “Maybe he’s the murderer and he’s trying to push the animal angle. If he believes he can get you guys to look in the right direction he might’ve planted evidence somewhere in the woods. Maybe he’s the person you saw out there last night.”
I searched my memory, trying to overlap the dark figure from my memory with my picture of Shane’s silhouette. “No way,” I said after a beat. “Shane Norman isn’t even six feet tall. What I saw in the woods was taller. Plus, well, I don’t like casting aspersions on people’s body types because I’m not about weight shaming, but Shane is kind of rotund.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Penny was interested in him because of his looks,” Bay agreed.
“That’s why you’re interested in me, though, right?” Landon asked cheekily.
“Your looks are most of it, but I like the way you wash my car when it’s dirty, too,” Bay replied.
“Keep it up,” Landon warned. “I’m going to sleep in the guest bedroom if you’re not careful. We have that thing for a reason.”
“We both know that’s an empty threat,” Bay shot back. “You’ll cry if you’re forced to sleep without me.”
Landon didn’t seem bothered by the assertion. “You’ll cry, too.”
“Yes, we’ll be a couple of sad sacks.”
Landon grinned as he leaned over to give her a quick kiss. Someone else – a lesser person, mind you – might find the display distasteful. It simply made me rueful.
“You can drop me in town,” I offered as Hemlock Cove popped into view. “Millie is waiting for me. She was going to head back to the library for more research.”
“Where will you go from here?” Landon asked.
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Do you still believe it was Bigfoot?” Bay asked, her sea-blue eyes somber as they locked with mine.
“I believe that something odd is going on,” I clarified. “I know without a doubt that I can’t leave this town until I find out what it is.”
BAY AND Landon dropped me in front of the diner. The rental vehicle remained in the same spot Millie had parked it in hours before, but she was nowhere in sight. I checked the diner to make sure she wasn’t waiting for me, and then set out to walk to the library. Hemlock Cove was small, so it wouldn’t take me long. It was a nice spring day, so I looked forward to the walk.
My joy lasted only a few minutes.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
The woman detaching from the side of a Range Rover caught me by surprise. I took an involuntary step back when I recognized her. Phyllis Grimes looked different out of her resort uniform, and the dark glare she graced me with reminded me of a soap opera my mother used to watch. I braced myself for trouble … and possibly the ire of an Erica Kane wannabe.
“Mrs. Grimes, I … how are you?”
Phyllis arched a dubious eyebrow. “How am I? How do you think I am?”
“I honestly have no idea,” I replied, looking around for the fastest escape route. “I’m not sure what you’re doing here. In fact, I’m not sure how you found me.”
“You were with Bay Winchester at the resort,” Phyllis reminded me. “Everyone in the area knows the Winchesters on sight. They’re … famous.”
“For what?”
“Being busybodies,” Phyllis sneered. “That whole family is crazy. The great-aunt has a pot field behind the inn. She actually sells to high school students. Did you know that? The woman is out of control and no one does a thing to stop her.”
I had no idea if that was true, but I wouldn’t put it past Tillie Winchester. “Okay, well, I’m here. Are you looking for me for a reason?”
“I’m not sure you can help me, but I thought I would take a chance,” Phyllis replied. “I know Bay won’t listen to me. She works for the newspaper and she’s looking for a story. She doesn’t care how she gets it … or how many lives she ruins in the process.”
“I don’t know her very well, but that doesn’t seem likely,” I argued. “She seems a genuinely nice woman.”
“She was spawned by crazy people. That means she’s crazy by extension,” Phyllis shot back. “I’m not here to talk about Bay Winchester. I want nothing to do with any of the Winchesters. In fact, don’t mention you saw me to them. If Tillie Winchester decides she’s bored, she’ll curse me and nobody wants that.”
I stilled, surprised. “She’ll … curse you?” I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “How will she curse you?”
“No one knows how she does it,” Phyllis replied. “We simply know she does it … and she takes joy in doing it. Why don’t you ask Margaret Little about Tillie’s curses and see what she says.”
“Tillie has cursed Mrs. Little?”
“The woman runs a store that sells nothing but porcelain unicorns,” Phyllis replied, rolling her eyes. “What do you think?”
I had no idea what to think, but I was fairly certain that fixating on Mrs. Little was a mistake. “So … you wanted to talk to me?” I’m not good in social situations sometimes – especially if I’m uncomfortable. I couldn’t ever remember feeling more uncomfortable than I did right now.
“I do want to talk to you,” Phyllis bobbed her head. “When Bay approached me yesterday I handled things badly. She caught me off guard because I knew why she was there. She wanted to embarrass my husband. He doesn’t deserve it. I mean … the man is a good provider.”
Is that how a wife makes excuses for her husband’s infidelity? If so, she should put a little more effort behind the lie. “I don’t know your husband,” I explained. “I mean … I saw him, but I don’t know him.”
“I know you’ve heard the rumors,” Phyllis countered. “You think he’s a cheater. You think he slept with that Schilling slut. Well, he didn’t. He wouldn’t do that.”
“Ma’am, I don’t know what to tell you.” I felt helpless and held up my hands in a placating manner. “I’m not a police investigator. I work for the Legacy Foundation. We’re checking to see if an animal was involved in her death. If this is murder by human hands, well, we’ll have nothing to do with the outcome.”
“An animal?” Phyllis’ expression was hard to read. “I heard that they thought it was an animal at first but ruled that out.”
“And where did you hear that?” I was legitimately curious. I had a hard time believing Landon and Chief Davenport would share that sort of information with the media.
“It’s just something I heard around the resort,” Phyllis replied, averting her eyes. “Are you saying they don’t know if a man or beast killed Penny?”
“I’m saying that if they do they haven’t sha
red the information with me,” I cautioned. “I can’t say either way, because I’m not in the inner circle.”
“But I saw you with Bay Winchester,” Phyllis pressed. “She dates that FBI guy. It was the talk of the town for two straight months when it first happened.”
“Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there,” I said. “I’m staying at The Overlook and I did ride to the resort with Bay, but our avenues of investigation aren’t exactly overlapping.”
“That’s news to me.” Phyllis swished her hips a bit, as if she was trying to let the new information wash over her. “It’s important that you know that my husband was not having an affair with Penny. He’s not the type of man who would do something like that. In fact, we’re very much in love.”
“I’m sure that you are.”
Phyllis acted as if she didn’t hear my comment. “My husband is faithful … and loving … and he’s such a good provider.”
She kept pulling out that “good provider” nonsense. I couldn’t decide if she was really trying to convince me or herself of her husband’s innocence and his beneficence. “I’m sure he is.”
“He would never cheat on me.” Phyllis was firm. “All of the women at the resort make up lies about him because they all want him to notice them. He’s handsome and everyone has a crush on him. But I got him. They’re jealous. I’m in a position of power at the resort, and the other women can’t stand it. All of the whispers … well … they stem from jealousy. You must see that.”
“I can see that when you work in that type of environment it’s probably hard to stay clear of gossip,” I offered. “As for your husband … I don’t know him, ma’am. I’m not part of the investigation. You’ll have to take this up with Agent Michaels.”
I’m not talking to that guy no matter what,” Phyllis huffed. “Everyone knows he makes excuses to cover for the Winchesters. He’s even willing to frame other people to do it.”
“Why would he need to make excuses for the Winchesters?”
“Because they’re crazy and evil,” Phyllis replied. “Everyone knows it.”
“I … well … okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say. The woman seemed manic, as if she was too scattered to focus on one part of the conversation. “I’ll make sure that Bay and Landon are aware that your husband wasn’t cheating on you.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Phyllis lowered her voice and I was almost certain she was going to shuffle away. Instead she lunged at me, taking me by surprise when she grabbed my shoulders and shoved her face in mine. Her ski-slope nose was only inches from me and I could feel her breath hot on my face. “My husband is a good man! You tell them!”
Even though I wasn’t physically afraid of Phyllis I couldn’t stop my heart rate from climbing. “I will.”
“You tell them!”
“I … will.”
“You tell them!” Phyllis gave me an exaggerated shake, snapping my head back and forth and making my mind go loopy. I lost my balance as I tried to remain upright. Thankfully someone moved in behind me before I could lose my footing and careen into the pavement.
It was Thistle, and she didn’t look happy.
“What the heck is going on here?”
Phyllis managed to recover relatively quickly when she saw the teal-haired woman. “I … have to go.”
“Why are you here in the first place?” Thistle challenged.
“That’s none of your business.”
And just like that, Phyllis scurried away from us and back to her car.
“What was that?” Thistle asked, turning to me.
“I have no idea, but it was really weird.”
“Do you think? I always knew that woman was crazy.”
“Funnily enough, that’s exactly what she said about your family,” I countered.
“Yes, but we’re fun crazy, not ‘I-need-a-straitjacket-and-electro-shock-therapy’ crazy,” Thistle replied dryly. “Come on. I’ll get you some tea. Then you can tell me all about Phyllis Grimes and how freaking crazy she is. That’s one story I can’t wait to hear.”
Twenty-Five
“Are you okay?”
Thistle’s gruff demeanor softened noticeably as she led me into her magic store, Hypnotic. I nodded as I glanced around, smiling at the homey interior. The store felt like the Winchesters. There was no other way to describe it. An aura of ease that was difficult to ignore washed over the store.
“She didn’t attack me or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said, forcing a smile. “She was just a little manic.”
“Yeah? I know Phyllis Grimes a little bit, but only because she lived around here for years. She was about ten years older than us, but she had a certain … um … reputation.”
Well, that was interesting. “What kind of reputation?”
Thistle’s smile was enigmatic. “Do you want some tea?”
“Is it a long story?”
“It’s certainly not a short one.”
“Then I’d love some tea.”
Thistle hurried around the counter and disappeared into the back room. Her absence gave me a chance to look at the bevy of items the store offered, all of which intrigued me. Thistle found me staring at a display shelf full of skull candles when she returned, wordlessly handing me a mug of tea before sipping her own.
“Do you make these?” I asked, rubbing my finger over the top of a purple calvera.
Thistle nodded. “I’m better with the crafty stuff. Clove is happier dealing with the customers. I don’t think anyone would rate my customer service skills very highly, but Clove is amazing with the shoppers.”
“So you’re more behind the scenes and she’s more in front of the crowd,” I mused, tracing my fingers over the small table in the corner where a tarot deck sat. “Who does the readings?”
“Mostly Clove.” Thistle’s eyes were keen as she looked me over. “She has a certain … gift.”
“Do you have a gift?” I asked.
Thistle shrugged. “Everyone has a gift, right? I’m good with crafts and artistic endeavors. Have you seen that metal witch down in the town square? I made that sculpture last year.”
“I did see that.” I nodded appreciatively. “You’re gifted.”
“I get that from my mother,” Thistle clarified. “She’s really good with craft projects, too.”
“Is she the only one in your family good at crafts?”
Thistle tilted her head to the side, considering. “I guess it depends on what you define as ‘crafts.’ We all have our strengths. Aunt Tillie makes a mean bottle of wine. And she’s a tremendous gardener.”
“Pot?”
Thistle smirked. “Who told you?”
“Phyllis Grimes mentioned it,” I answered without hesitation. “She said you were all crazy and that your great-aunt grows pot to sell to the local kids.”
Thistle remained silent but didn’t appear to be offended by the assertion.
“It’s true?” I prodded.
Thistle shrugged and held her hands palms up. “It’s true that Aunt Tillie has a horticultural streak that makes the two law enforcement officials in our lives unbearably agitated and uneasy.”
I giggled at the way she phrased it. “I see.”
“I’m not sure you do, but that’s okay,” Thistle said. “Aunt Tillie likes her pot. She claims she has glaucoma.”
The idea of the feisty Winchester matriarch going blind made me inexorably sad. “Does she?”
“Not that any doctor has ever diagnosed,” Thistle replied. “She simply likes her pot.”
“I see.” That lightened my worry. “Does the rest of the family mind?”
“The pot field keeps her busy, which keeps her out of everyone’s business … at least to a limited degree. The only time people care is when she takes young Annie – she’s the daughter of a close friend who used to work at the inn, and Aunt Tillie adores her – to the field. Then things get dicey.”
“Even Landon doesn’t mind?”
�
��Landon … um … Landon is all talk,” Thistle replied after a beat. “He’s an FBI agent and he believes in law and order, but he would never arrest Aunt Tillie.”
“Because of Bay?”
“Because he loves Aunt Tillie as much as we do,” Thistle answered. “Of course, she drives him just as nuts as she drives us, so it’s a family thing. Landon is family. He loves Bay and would never purposely hurt her. Despite his threats to the contrary, he’d never arrest Aunt Tillie. He’d find a way around it.”
“And Chief Davenport?”
“Terry has known about Aunt Tillie’s field longer than Landon, but pretends he doesn’t know about it,” Thistle replied. “He’s a good man with a wonderful heart. We’ve known him as long as I can remember. He wouldn’t arrest Aunt Tillie either. He threatened her often when we were kids because she’d take us on adventures. He never once followed through … and yet he caught us numerous times when we were torturing Mrs. Little. Aunt Tillie claims he arrested her, but I don’t believe it.”
“So he keeps your secrets,” I mused, carrying my tea to the couch that rested in the middle of the store and sitting. “What other kind of secrets does he keep for you?”
I had no idea why I asked the question. I didn’t expect Thistle to own up to anything. The way she narrowed her eyes made me realize I caught her off guard, but she was on edge given the lackadaisical way I pressed her. As much as I wanted to know who or what killed Penny Schilling – and I desperately wanted to know – I was determined to uncover the Winchesters’ secret, too.
“I guess you’ll have to ask Bay about that,” Thistle replied. “I believe he keeps a lot of dirty secrets for her.”
It was a masterful deflection, I had to give her that. She wouldn’t answer truthfully – that much was certain – so I let the topic drop. “I’m pretty sure all of his dirty secrets have to do with bacon, so they’re not really secrets, are they?”
Thistle shrugged, her eyes weighted with worry as they locked with mine. “Everyone has secrets.” She sipped her tea, never shifting her gaze, and then finally the atmosphere in the store relaxed as she crossed one leg over the other. “So, tell me what Phyllis Grimes wanted.”
Witchy Dreams Page 70
