I snickered. “You do that, Lex Luthor. I ... .” I forgot what I was about to say when I ran across a date on one of the documents. “Hey. This is the attendance sheet from the last year of the camp. This is what I’ve been looking for.”
“What is?” Landon asked, appearing in the doorway behind me.
“This.” I held up the sheet of paper. “This is a list of people who attended camp the last year.”
“Good find.” He sat with me on the floor, knee to knee, and leaned over to read with me. “Do you recognize any of the names?”
“Yeah. Clove and Thistle are on here. I was hoping to find something that listed the counselors so we could track down the one Vicky didn’t like. I know it’s a long shot, but I figured it would be valuable if we could find it.”
“Definitely.” He pressed a kiss to my temple and took the file from my lap. “While you’re reading that, I’ll keep looking.”
It was a cozy moment. We enjoyed sharing resources and working together. The only thing ruining our romantic interlude was Aunt Tillie, who kept muttering as she plotted against Mrs. Little in her head. The warm atmosphere didn’t last long, as Landon straightened.
“Here. Counselors are listed here.” He ran his finger down a short list. “There are, like, ten listed. That can’t be right. You said there were only four, two men and two women for each camp.”
“Each summer saw at least three camps, though,” I reminded him. “There were different age levels for the kids. “Sixth and seventh grades were grouped together. Eighth and ninth grades. Then everyone else.”
“I get what you’re saying. You don’t want some seventeen-year-old boy hanging with a fourteen-year-old girl.”
“Basically,” I agreed, bobbing my head. “So, what does the list say?” I took a moment to read it. “It looks like Vicky was here for each female camp. That makes sense, because she liked the money and was gung-ho about camping. It also looks like several other local girls were counselors, though most of them took on only one or two camps.”
“What about the boys?” Landon queried. “I don’t want to be sexist, but they’re the ones we’re most interested in.”
“Because you suspect sexual assault?”
“I honestly don’t know. The bodies were in water. That often washes away all traces of sexual assault. Plus, well, with Vicky’s body ... .” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. I understood what he wasn’t saying.
“Is that the motive you’re leaning toward?” I asked. “I mean ... I guess it makes the most sense. I don’t like the sound of it, but I get it.”
“That’s only one motive. Something else might’ve triggered the murders. We have very little to go on. The camp is off the beaten trail, so to speak.”
“It has to be a local, right?” I pressed. “With two bodies, that’s the only conclusion we can reach.”
“I don’t know that I agree with that,” Landon hedged. “It’s possible that the women weren’t killed by the same person. Remember, the first killer could’ve told someone else where to hide a body.”
“But they say the only way to truly get away with murder is to tell no one. Why let something like that slip?”
“I don’t know. I’m not willing to assume anything at this point. When you assume things, you make mistakes.”
“And you’re nothing if not a diligent investigator,” I teased.
“Exactly.” He moved his finger down the list I held and stopped at the last name. Unlike the others, it was written in red ink rather than black. “Joey Morgan,” he read aloud. “That’s Gertie’s son, right?”
I nodded. “That’s weird. I don’t ever remember him being a counselor. I guess it’s possible, but ... I think I would remember that.”
“Maybe he filled in for someone else who canceled at the last minute.”
“I guess. I mean ... it’s possible. People said he was lazy and never wanted to work. Maybe Gertie forced him to earn his keep.”
“Yeah, but I’m interested if someone else was on the list before him. I’m also interested in tracking down these other names.” He snagged the list and pushed himself to a standing position. “Come on. I think we should be done in here for the night. It’s getting dark and the others are building a fire. It’s time for s’mores.”
“I thought this was a work excursion.”
“It was a work trip. Now it’s time for s’mores. I can multi-task.”
“You heard him.” Aunt Tillie was already standing, Peg’s leash clutched in her hand. “It’s time for s’mores. That’s the only part of camping I like.”
That was true for me, too. “Okay. But I still want to think about that list.”
“Deal.” Landon grinned as he pulled me up beside him. “Let’s get you sugared up and in flirt mode. Then you can think as much as you want.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
Eighteen
“Did you guys find anything?” Thistle asked as we made our way back to the bonfire, which seemed too large for seven of us. I wasn’t going to put up a fight, though, now that the invading chill was pervasive thanks to the setting sun.
“We found a list of counselors for that last summer,” I replied. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do us. I also found a list of all the campers that summer.” I handed the file to Thistle.
“Where is Aunt Tillie?” Clove asked, glancing around. “You didn’t ditch her, did you? Our mothers won’t like it if we don’t bring her back. If you go into the woods with Aunt Tillie, you’re supposed to come out with her.”
“I don’t remember that being a rule when we were kids,” I argued. “The opposite was true. I remember the time Aunt Tillie brought you and me back from the woods and left Thistle out there because she was complaining. She said that two out of three was a perfectly respectable percentage. Twila didn’t think so when she had to go find Thistle, but everyone else thought it was funny.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Thistle made an exaggerated face. “I was perfectly fine in the woods by myself. I would’ve found my way home without help. I was six, mind you, but gifted even then.”
Marcus chuckled as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. He was the amiable sort, more laid back than his temperamental girlfriend could ever hope to be. That didn’t mean he was opposed to a “Thistle loses her cool” story. “I can picture the meltdown that must’ve caused. Did you yell at Aunt Tillie when you got back?”
“I don’t remember. My mother was crying when she found me.”
“You were, like, five-hundred feet from the back door, so she didn’t have to look very far,” Aunt Tillie noted as she appeared at the edge of the bonfire ring. “It’s not as if I left you miles from home. You were in the backyard.”
“I was not in the backyard,” Thistle argued. “I was pretty far from the backyard.”
“You were barely out of the yard.” Aunt Tillie handed Peg’s leash to Clove and focused on what looked to be a lopsided nylon bag. “I’m the reason you’re as strong as you are, Thistle. You should bow down and thank me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Thistle said dryly, rolling her eyes.
“I’m surprised we’re still alive,” Clove announced, snuggling closer to Sam as he tucked a blanket around her. “We were basically left on our own when we were kids. I mean ... anything could’ve happened. We raised ourselves.”
That wasn’t exactly how I remembered it. “How do you figure? Our mothers fed us, put a roof over our heads, made sure we did our homework, dropped us off at school and even gave us chores that helped turn us into responsible adults.”
“They also left us alone for hours on end, had us working twenty hours a week before we were out of middle school and let Aunt Tillie babysit us three days a week,” Clove argued. “She could’ve gotten us arrested on any one of those days. She thought it was funny to get us to do illegal things.”
Now that I did remember. “They weren’t big things.” I had no
idea why I felt the need to stand up for Aunt Tillie, but I couldn’t stop myself. “It was only little things.”
“Yeah,” Thistle murmured. “Misdemeanors, not felonies. Although there was a bit of larceny, arson and home invasion in there.”
“All against Mrs. Little,” I told Landon helpfully. “It wasn’t serious arson or anything. Aunt Tillie just made a burning fake ghost appear on her front lawn. She was never in any danger.”
Instead of admonishing Aunt Tillie, who was pulling her tent out of the bag, Landon merely shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I would’ve been around to date you during your wild teenage years,” he said. “Other times I’m glad I wasn’t, because I would’ve been scared away.”
“That’s because you’re a good boy,” Thistle teased. “You always follow the letter of the law.”
“I do indeed,” Landon agreed. “I like being a good boy. In fact ... .” He trailed off when Aunt Tillie pulled out a series of ancient-looking stakes. “What are you doing? How old is that tent?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Aunt Tillie challenged. “I’ve got everything under control.”
Landon was understandably dubious. “Do you need help?”
I thought the offer was funny coming from him. “Have you ever put up a tent?” I was legitimately curious. “I mean ... you guys stayed in tents the summer we were here together. I remember that. I thought Chief Terry put up most of the tents, though. I remember him complaining about accidentally hitting his thumb with a mallet when pounding in stakes.”
“We did stay in tents that summer,” Landon confirmed. “I helped put mine up. I shared it with my brothers. As for Chief Terry, I’ve tried remembering him from that trip and I can’t. The counselor is just a pleasant blur in my memory.”
“Do you remember Bay?” Marcus asked, frowning as he moved to stand. “Aunt Tillie, let me help you.”
“I said that I have it!” Aunt Tillie’s eyes fired. “I’m not so old that I can’t put up my own tent. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, for crying out loud.”
“Is that when the tent is from?” Sam asked. “I mean ... it looks old. Did you keep it from your childhood during the Civil War?”
The look Aunt Tillie shot him was withering. “I only kept the butter churn from my childhood.”
“Really? Did you churn your own butter?” Sam obviously missed the signs that he should shut up because he kept barreling forward. “I would love to see a butter churn. I find antiquated tools fascinating to study.”
Aunt Tillie made a face and glanced at me. “What did he just say?”
“That he’s willing to help you put up your tent if necessary,” I replied. I didn’t want to call her capabilities into question — she’d lived a long time and succeeded at a lot of tasks, after all — but I had my doubts when it came to the tent. “Are you sure you don’t want help?”
“The next person who asks me if I need help is going to have to sleep in the tent with me,” she growled, causing the men to shrink back in unison. “Yeah, that’s right. You’ll be cuddling up next to me.”
“She can obviously do it herself,” Sam said after a beat. “Go women’s lib.” He thrust his fist in the air, causing Landon to choke on a laugh before turning his full attention to me.
“Tell me about Joey Morgan,” he instructed, retrieving the sheet of paper he’d earlier removed from the file and unfolding it. “You said it was unusual for him to be a counselor here. Why is that? I would think that as Gertie’s son it would’ve been a regular occurrence.”
“I didn’t know him well,” I replied, searching my memory. “I already told you that he was older than us and younger than our mothers.”
“Still, Walkerville wasn’t very big.”
“No, but ... you’ve seen Gertie’s house. They lived out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Still, she had to shop in town. You guys saw her when you visited camp. She was always here, right?”
“Not always,” I countered. “She wasn’t here that weekend we were both here together.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I remember that weekend well.”
“Because you met me?” His wink was charming, but that wasn’t the reason.
“No, because I was upset that Mom, Marnie and Twila were running the camp that weekend. The woman who was supposed to be running it — she served as a counselor quite often to make money — disappeared. She was dead and I knew because I saw her ghost.”
“You’ve told me this story.” Landon moved his hands to my shoulders and shifted so he was sitting behind me and massaging my tense muscles. “You disappeared from camp because you went off to find her body. Your mother and Chief Terry followed. You got in trouble and the counselor was put to rest. Am I leaving anything out?”
“No.”
“What did the counselor have to do with Gertie?”
“Nothing that I can recall.” I looked to Aunt Tillie for confirmation and almost fell over when I realized her tent was erected. “How did that happen?”
“I’m good,” Aunt Tillie replied as she ushered Peg inside the tent. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”
That was an understatement. The tent looked miraculous, which made me suspicious. “Is this like Harry Potter? Did you magically put up that tent when I wasn’t looking?”
“Oh, geez.” Aunt Tillie zipped up the nylon door to the tent and took off in the direction of Landon’s Explorer. “I have to get my sleeping bag and pillow. Continue with your discussion.”
“I just asked if Gertie and Donna Wilder knew each other. Do you remember if they were tight?”
Instead of answering, Aunt Tillie disappeared into the rapidly-dwindling light.
“I don’t think she’s going to answer,” I muttered.
“It probably doesn’t matter, but we’ll follow up on it,” Landon said. “Is there a reason Gertie wouldn’t have been at the campgrounds for some of the events?”
“I seem to recall that Gertie had another job for a bit ... but I don’t know if I’m making that up in my head or it was real.”
“We’ll ask her.” Landon kept rubbing, his eyes moving to the right at the sound of shuffling feet. “Would you like help carrying your sleeping bag, Aunt Tillie?” he asked when she appeared. She was dragging what looked to be a huge sled behind her. “And when did you load that into the Explorer? I don’t remember seeing that.”
“Perhaps that’s because you were busy pouting about having to bring me along with you,” Aunt Tillie suggested. She hauled the sled to the opening of the tent and then plopped down on it, the sleeping bag propping up her back. “I’m exhausted. Who wants to rub my feet?” She looked to Marcus expectantly.
Marcus’ discomfort was obvious as he turned to stare at Landon. “You were talking about Joey Morgan, right? I heard about the fire that killed him. That was a big deal back then. My uncle was a volunteer firefighter, and he told me about it.”
It was obvious he was desperate to change the subject, so I decided to oblige him. “We were kids when it happened. I remember everyone getting really excited because the fire trucks were only taken out for parades and to rescue cats. That was the joke anyway.”
“That’s true,” Aunt Tillie said as she grabbed the bag of marshmallows resting near Landon’s feet. “There are very few fires in this area. Do you want to know why?”
“Are you going to tell us there’s a magical reason?” Landon asked.
Aunt Tillie shrugged. “Where’s the chocolate?”
Thistle grabbed the bag that contained the chocolate bars and graham crackers and tossed it toward Aunt Tillie. “I hate to admit it — mostly because it will just make your head grow to unnatural proportions — but I don’t remember a lot of fires around here now that you mention it.”
“Aunt Tillie started all the ones I remember,” Clove added.
“Okay, you’ve got us curious,” I offered. “Why aren’t there many fires?”
“Because I can contr
ol the weather and I make sure it never gets too dry.”
She said it in such a manner that it was difficult to question. Still, I had my doubts. “Are you sure that’s true?”
“Ask your mothers when you get home tomorrow. It’s most definitely true.”
I pursed my lips and glanced at Landon over my shoulder. He looked more amused than suspicious, so I decided to let it go. “Tell us about the fire that killed Joey. I don’t remember much about it. All I know is that people were talking about a fire and thought it wasn’t a big deal because it was a shed ... and then it turned into a big deal.”
“I don’t know all the specifics,” Aunt Tillie cautioned as she brandished a metal stick and shoved marshmallows on the sharp end. “I heard about it secondhand. I was never all that close with Gertie.”
“Was she close with anyone?” Landon asked. “I got the feeling that she was pretty isolated when we talked to her the other day.”
“She’s certainly isolated now,” Aunt Tillie agreed. “I don’t know that she’s always been isolated. Once Earl and Joey died she seemed to figure she was better off on her own.”
“Some people isolate themselves after a tragedy because they don’t want to risk growing close to others that could result in another loss,” Sam noted. “Perhaps that’s what she was feeling.”
“How would I know that?” Aunt Tillie challenged. “I’m a witch, not a psychologist. I can’t tell you what Gertie is thinking. All I can tell you is that there was initially hope that Joey wasn’t in the shed because Laura Preston swore up and down she saw him the following day. That hope didn’t last long.”
“Wait ... how could there be hope?” Landon queried. “A body was found, right?”
Aunt Tillie nodded. “The fire burned hot. All that was left was blackened bones. I saw them myself.”
“And how did you see them?”
“I went to the house to see what all the hoopla was about and saw them being removed. Gertie was a sobbing mess. I sent your mothers to deal with her because you know how I feel about crying.”
Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set Page 47
