The Wynne Witch

by H. P. Bayne

  If it was a gang member.

  “We don’t know what the threat is,” Sully said. “Could be anything. Hell, it could be the floor in the house is about to give way, for all we know.”

  “House felt pretty stable to me.”

  Sully turned toward Dez. “You know what I’m getting at. Until we get there and evaluate, we don’t know what the problem is.”

  Dez flashed him a half-smile. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

  Maybe so. Fact was, Sully had grown fond of the Wynne family. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to them, especially on my watch. I promised I’d help them. What if I can’t? What if we’re too late?”

  Dez’s hand settled over his forearm and squeezed none too gently. “Hey. We did everything we could, and we’re still doing it, all right? We went above and beyond for them, and for free to boot. If anything happens, it’s not because of anything we did or didn’t do.”

  It was Sully’s turn to smile. “Now it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

  Dez shrugged but didn’t respond—which, in the end, was probably response enough.

  Sully didn’t know what they’d find upon reaching the Wynne house. By the time they turned onto the drive, he was a bundle of nerves, sitting straighter in his seat than he’d likely ever sat before.

  A truck sat in front of the house Sully recognized, and as they drew closer, he recognized it as Hank Fleming’s.

  Casey sat on the front steps, slouched over her phone as she repeatedly thumbed the screen. Nothing about her posture revealed tension, and Sully allowed himself a breath of relief.

  She glanced up as Dez parked next to Hank’s truck and shut off the SUV.

  Sully climbed out, and Casey immediately flushed with a shy smile.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” she said.

  “Your dad called.”

  She shrugged. “He saw something and freaked out, but I think it’s okay now. That lawyer guy showed up, and they’re talking in the sunroom.” She rolled her eyes.

  “What?” Sully asked.

  “Hank. He’s weird.”

  Sully met Dez’s eye. He didn’t want to leave yet, not until they’d figured out what the problem was. Could be whatever threat existed had faded away or gone into hiding when Hank pulled up. If so, the lawyer’s presence might have bought them a little extra time to set up.

  Sully contemplated calling Terrence. The thought of having the ex-soldier crawling through the bushes with his rifle and scope was comforting. But he abandoned the idea as quickly as it had come. If he dragged Terrence all the way out here for nothing, he’d feel both guilty and embarrassed.

  Sully didn’t want to pass along his worries to Casey. “Hey, since your dad wanted to see us but is busy right now, Dez and I will just head inside and wait till he’s free. Did you guys have time to go through the closet we unlocked last night?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Only a bit though. It’s full of all kinds of junk. It’s going to take the rest of my life to clean it out. I think Dad finally gave up.”

  “Think it would be okay if Dez and I check it out while he’s talking to the lawyer? Might be we’ll find something.”

  “Go for it,” Casey said.

  Sully nudged Dez with an elbow and led the way inside.

  Casey had been right, the closet showing no more indication it was ready to divulge its secrets without a whole lot of effort. Whatever the Wynnes had achieved had barely made a dent. The old vacuum and paint were gone, but the shelves remained cluttered with boxes and bags and other old junk, much of it lying beneath layers of dust and cobwebs.

  “God, what a mess,” Dez muttered. “Sure you don’t want to wait until they’re done with Hank? Seems to me four or five sets of hands would be better than two.”

  “We’re private investigators,” Sully said. “Digging through people’s old junk is half of what they pay us for.”

  “When we’re being paid,” Dez added. But he moved into the closet anyway and picked a shelf to start riffling.

  Sully stepped in next to him and took a shelf across from Dez’s. For a few minutes, they dug through the stuff inside, Dez twice stifling sneezes until, at last, one exploded from his lips.

  “Goddammit,” he said. “All this dust.”

  “I know,” Sully said. “It’s everywhere.”

  Or rather, he realized as he leaned in closer to the shelf he was currently searching, nearly everywhere.

  “Hey, Dez. This shoebox. Check the shelf in front of it.”

  Dez turned and leaned over Sully’s shoulder. “Looks like someone’s pulled the box off the shelf recently.”

  “But not too recently. A little dust has built up there again. See?”

  “Yeah. What’s in there?” He flashed a smile. “You think the old gal stashed some priceless gems in there? Maybe we’ll come out of this with a little money in our pockets after all.”

  The idea was kind of exciting, so Sully was disappointed to find nothing but a bunch of folded papers inside.

  “No jewels,” he said for Dez’s benefit.

  Dez grunted an incomprehensible reply and returned to his own shelf, whatever interest he’d had now evaporated. Sully, though, kept at it, lifting out the papers and envelopes so he could better see what was inside.

  At a glance, this box contained nothing of real use to them, largely consisting of small appliance manuals and warranties and receipts for everything from the downstairs fridge to shoes. A few other papers of no particular note lay inside, including a folded section of a newspaper from 1963 featuring a headline about the Kennedy assassination and another clipping about the moon landing. Cool keepsakes, but nothing to help them figure out why Mildred would have bothered to keep this door locked and the key concealed. With a mental shrug, he started to place the papers back inside the box.

  Movement at the door had him turning, expecting to find one of the Wynnes. His heart hammered as he recognized the shadowy image of Mildred less than two feet from him.

  He jumped, causing him to bump Dez and drop the papers in his hand.

  Dez spun to face him. “God, what?”

  “Mildred.”

  “Where?”

  Sully indicated the direction by jutting his chin. “There. In the doorway.”

  Dez’s eyes grew large as he focused on the spot. “Damn it. So we’re blocked in here unless we go through her?”

  Moving through her—as much as Sully hated doing it—was a definite option. As it stood, he was pretty sure blocking them here wasn’t her intention.

  Glancing down, he followed the direction of one thin finger extended toward the papers he’d dropped on the floor. He knelt and gathered them together, wondering if she meant to indicate she wanted them back in the box.

  When her face appeared in front of his, he stopped moving. Ice cold fingers touched the back of his wrist, and his mind exploded into a vision.

  He was no longer himself, but her.

  Downstairs, locking the front door. Dread seizing at her insides as she moved, as quickly as her aging body would allow, up the stairs. To the closet, which she opened without unlocking.

  From the shelf on the right, she pulled down the shoebox containing odds and ends. One of the newspapers struck her as adequate, and she pulled it out. Into its fold, she inserted a long, thin envelope and placed it back inside the box, taking care to tuck it beneath the receipts and manuals. He wouldn’t bother searching for it here, not when the box containing her important documents—the deed and her father’s will, for example—lay elsewhere in the house.

  She replaced the lid with shaking hands, then slid the box back onto the shelf. Too late, she realized her error. She’d disturbed the dust, leaving a line there that would be a dead giveaway should he come in here.

  She’d have to delay him. She’d need to lock the closet and hide the key. When he did finally get in—and he would eventually—hopefully, the dust would have settled agai
n. Somehow, she’d get word to her family, ensuring they found the concealed document. Perhaps they could find a way to deal with him where she had failed.

  After closing and locking the door, she removed the key from her keyring and made her way to the master bedroom. It remained bathed in darkness as she’d left it. Drapes closed, he wouldn’t see her in here and she could move safely without worrying he might shoot through a window at her. Paranoid maybe, but she knew he liked to hunt. He had the trophies to prove it, or so he’d said.

  Keeping the light off as she padded across the floor to the window, she cracked the curtain just enough to see outside.

  Headlights of a vehicle coming up the drive.

  No.

  If she was to protect herself and her property, she would have to act now.

  Faster than was likely safe, she headed downstairs. She would conceal herself and the key, somewhere he wouldn’t think to look. He knew the house too well, had a copy of the deed and the blueprint.

  The maze. The maze was just the place. Outdoors, she could listen for the sound of his engine. Her body might be failing her, but her hearing remained sharp. She would stay there until he left, and contact her nephew tomorrow to make the necessary arrangements.

  The problem would be getting there.

  She had unlocked the front door before heading for the back of the house. He would enter when she didn’t answer, expecting she had perhaps fallen somewhere or even died. Wouldn’t that just make his life easier?

  Putting her impromptu plan into action, she placed the key into her pocket and slipped out the back.

  With a start, Sully returned to himself, finding himself seated fully on the floor.

  Dez crouched over him. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Good.”

  Dez grasped his arm to help him up, but Sully waved him off. “She showed me something. Hang on.”

  Dez released him, and Sully climbed to his knees to dig through the papers still on the floor. He saw it now, poking slightly from the folds of the paper, and he reached down and pulled it out.

  “What did she show you?” Dez asked. “An envelope? I was hoping for a wad of cash at the very least.”

  “I know you were,” Sully said. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Dez shrugged, and Sully turned his attention back to the envelope. It wasn’t sealed, the flap simply folded down inside, so he opened it and drew out the contents.

  The first paper was a crude drawing of the property, showing the house, the maze and what appeared to be a small cemetery off to the right, inside a grove of trees. On the cemetery, she’d drawn an “X.”

  “What’s that mean?” Dez asked.

  Sully had no idea, so didn’t answer. Instead, he unfolded the other item, this one thicker than the other single page.

  “It’s her will,” he said as he read the first page. As he read, something jumped out at him—largely because Mildred’s ghostly finger suddenly appeared in front of him to point it out.

  Hank Fleming’s name. Not just as executor but as beneficiary.

  “Hank wasn’t listed on the will he showed to the Wynnes,” Sully said.

  “But he’s on this one,” Dez said. “Why? Did she write him out before she died?”

  Sully glanced up to see Mildred slowly shake her head. “She’s telling me she didn’t.”

  Dez took the will and flipped to the back page. On it, Mildred had made a note. “She’s written here she wants Hank out of the will. So she must have had it done.”

  But Mildred again shook her head.

  “I don’t think that’s what this means, Dez.” He peered from Mildred to Dez. “I think what we’ve found is a motive for murder.”

  20

  Sully didn’t pause to explain to Dez. He couldn’t. Downstairs, Hank sat with Neil and Drea.

  Hank, who Sully now believed had killed Mildred. She might not have physically seen him when he’d come for her at the end, but she knew all the same.

  “Dez, you need to find Casey and get her out of here,” Sully said as he shoved the documents back inside the box and replaced it on the shelf. “I need to help Neil and Drea.”

  Dez’s face registered alarm as he stood next to Sully. “Why?”

  Sully stepped out of the closet and waited for Dez to follow. “It’s Hank. He killed Mildred, and now he’s planning on doing the same thing to the rest of the family. I think he came here last night to do it, but found us here with them instead.”

  “I don’t get it. What reason would he have?”

  Sully closed and locked the door. “The will he provided us—I don’t think it was the right one. If I were to guess, I’d say he fudged it to throw us all off. He knew we’d figured out Mildred was murdered and the rest of the family was possibly under threat. He needed to keep us from figuring out he stood to inherit if the Wynnes were out of the way.”

  “Damn it,” Dez said. He led the way down the stairs, whispering as he went. “I’m going to make something up to get Casey out of here. I’ll give her the keys to the SUV. Then we’ll go and have a chat with Hank. Wait until I get back in before you confront him, all right?”

  Sully nodded his agreement and Dez slipped through the front door. Sully stood alone now in the entry hall, straining to catch any sound of conversation inside the house. At first, he could make out nothing. Then he heard a raised voice.

  Not Hank’s but Drea’s. “What are you doing?”

  Sully moved without thought, without stopping to wait for Dez. The tone—cold shock—told him Hank was making his play.

  Sully would have to come up with his own play, and fast.

  He moved to the partial wall between the formal sitting room and the kitchen, and peered around the corner. No one in there. The Wynnes and Hank were in the sunroom. He’d have to step out farther in order to see anything.

  Or maybe there was another way.

  “Mildred, I need your help.”

  She appeared next to him, and he turned to face her. “I need to see inside the sunroom. Can you go in there and show me what’s happening?”

  In a blink, she vanished. Gone only a couple of seconds, she returned and placed her fingers against his hand.

  The image formed in his brain: Hank by the back door with a rifle, Neil and Drea backed into a corner, Neil positioning himself as well as he could to put Drea behind him.

  What was more, they weren’t alone. The Witch of Rhibyn stood inside the room, blackened mouth stretched wide as she faced the scene.

  Sully snapped out of the vision as quickly as he entered it. When he opened his eyes, Dez stood next to Mildred’s spirit.

  “Hank’s got a gun,” he told Dez.

  “How do you know?”

  “Mildred showed me. How do you want to play this?”

  Dez peeked out but didn’t appear to have accomplished anything beyond what Sully had, judging by his frustrated expression. “I told Casey we hadn’t eaten yet. She’s gone to town to order us burgers from the diner there. She has no idea anything’s wrong. I’m thinking that buys us at least forty-five minutes till she comes back and is at risk.”

  Sully was grateful to have her out of immediate danger. Now he was able to turn his mind to a plan.

  “The sunroom has huge windows, but if you stay low, you can sneak up to the door from outside,” Sully said. “I’ll come at them from inside.”

  Dez frowned. “I prefer the plan in reverse: you outside, me inside. Anyway, you’re smaller than me.”

  “I’ve also got access to two ghosts,” Sully said. “Need be, I can use them to protect myself.”

  When Dez didn’t appear convinced sufficiently to move, Sully gave him a gentle shove. “Go. We don’t have time to argue.”

  Dez’s frown had yet to disappear, but he moved off anyway with a muttered, “Be careful.”

  Sully waited until Dez had slipped back out through the front door before he moved.

  As he approached the sunroom, stepping low to
muffle his footsteps, he took comfort in the fact he couldn’t see in. If he couldn’t see in, they couldn’t see out. If he stayed here, this side of the door, he could take a moment to listen. Might be he could find a way to end this without anyone resorting to physical violence.

  As he reached the open doorway to the sunroom, he heard the end of Hank’s statement clearly. “—don’t want to have to do this.”

  “You don’t need to do anything,” Neil said. “We’re no threat to you.”

  “It’s not that you’re a threat. You’re simply in the way. I’m sorry, but with the line of inheritance running to your children, I’ll never own this property as long as you’re alive.”

  Drea gasped. “You can’t kill our kids! And over an old house? Why?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He snorted. “I don’t have a choice. The kids are in the way too. You don’t understand; it’s more than the property. I put everything I have into my business. I’ve struggled, I’ve foregone all of the things city lawyers take for granted, I’ve saved every spare penny I have. The town is dying, and those who are left go into the city for their needs. My business is collapsing. I’m letting my receptionist go next week, and even that won’t be enough to hold onto the place into the next fiscal year.”

  “Have you thought about moving into the city and getting a job with a firm there?” Neil asked. His tone suggested he was trying to be helpful.

  Hank didn’t seem to appreciate it. “And give up my business?” he snapped. “Are you even listening to me? I’m not going to work for anyone else like some goddamned junior lawyer!”

  “Okay,” Neil said. “I’m sorry!”

  “How exactly are you planning on getting away with this?” Drea asked. “You can’t inherit this place if you’re in prison for killing all of us.”

  Hank laughed. The sound possessed a confidence that sent a chill down Sully’s spine.

  “This won’t come back to me. I’m aware of your boy’s connection to drugs and gangs. I met him one day when I came out to have Mildred sign her will. We had a long talk, and he was so desperate to pay his debt he begged me for money. A complete stranger. Figured as a lawyer, I had to be rolling in it. It did give me an idea, though. If he owed money to a gang, they’d come calling, wouldn’t they? And they wouldn’t necessarily stop with him. They might punish him through his family first. Once all of you are gone, getting to him—the last Wynne named in the will—will be easy. Just a matter of biding my time until I can set things up right.”