Viola snickered. “I get it. Tillie is difficult.”
“She’s not altogether wrong on this one,” I supplied. “I don’t know if I think a witch council is a good idea. I do know that I don’t like the idea of anyone telling us what we can and can’t do. Hazel is just as much of a control freak as Aunt Tillie, maybe worse in some ways.”
“That’s a frightening thought.”
“You have no idea.”
I TRIED TO RETURN TO MY WORK, but it didn’t go well. Once I knew the other witches were in town they were all I could think about. That meant it was time to shunt my work to the side and head outside for a little fun.
I was already downtown, a cup of gourmet coffee in hand, before I realized what I was doing. I sat on the bench in front of the police station to watch the shenanigans. That’s where Landon found me a few minutes later.
“May I ask what you’re doing out here?” he asked, tipping his head to his side. “Besides getting loaded up on caffeine, that is.”
“Just watching the show.” I smirked when two women squealed in delight at the sight of Hypnotic and immediately headed for the shop. “I find the witches fascinating.”
“Oh, yeah?” Landon was clearly dubious. “They don’t look like witches to me. They look like wannabes.”
“And what do real witches look like? If you think they all look like me, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“Oh, I know they don’t all look like you. My head would implode if there were a hundred Bays in town. No, seriously. I would explode from all the beauty.”
I cast him a sidelong look. “Was that your attempt at romance?”
He turned sheepish. “Maybe a little.”
“You should probably work on it.”
“Yeah. I knew the second it came out that it was too much.”
I patted his knee, sympathetic. “All you need is a little practice.” I turned my eyes back to the witches. “The one in the hat is Hazel.”
He chuckled when he caught sight of her. “That’s somehow fitting, isn’t it? Look who’s riding her scooter around behind the other queen witch.”
I didn’t have to look to know he was referring to Aunt Tillie. Still, it wasn’t as if I could ignore the potential disaster. Sure enough, Aunt Tillie was deftly navigating her scooter between the throngs of witches, circling Hazel as she glared. If Hazel was aware of Aunt Tillie’s actions, she didn’t show it. Instead, she kept up a running commentary with several younger witches surrounding her.
“I have to give her credit,” Landon said after a beat. “She knows exactly how to drive Aunt Tillie nuts. Pretending she doesn’t see the commotion is a surefire way to have Aunt Tillie popping her top by the end of the day.”
“Oh, she won’t make it that long. If she makes it an hour without trying to run someone over with that scooter I’ll be stunned.”
“Won’t that be fun?” He rubbed his hand over my neck. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I meant it. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m okay.”
“Worry comes with the territory. I’m actually glad you showed up. Lorna is on her way to answer some questions. She’s bringing her daughter. Lorna insists we don’t question the children, which seems weird to me, and says she will call an attorney if we try.”
I understood what he was getting at without him laying it out. “You want to see if I can talk to Dani.”
“I’m not specifically asking you to do that because it would be unethical.”
“You’re not exactly dissuading me either.”
“You’re so smart.” He gave me a kiss and a wink and then stood, his attention immediately going back to Aunt Tillie, who was making rude honking noises to get people to move. “We should get her a bell.”
“I can’t believe you’re encouraging this. She could kill someone.”
He snorted. “It’s a kick scooter. The only one she’s in danger of hurting is herself. She’ll be fine.”
I hoped that was true. For now, though, I had bigger things to worry about.
Lorna and Dani arrived several minutes later. Lorna strode directly into the police station, not so much as giving me a sidelong glance. She appeared to be in her own world, her eyes red and puffy, her face devoid of makeup.
Dani looked equally distressed. She remained outside the building, staring at the witches as they took over Main Street.
“Interesting sight, huh?” I prodded, forcing a smile for the girl’s benefit. She was sixteen if I remembered correctly, but looked a little younger.
“Oh, hey, Ms. Winchester.” Dani offered me a small wave. “I didn’t see you there.”
I was offended at being called “Ms. Winchester.” Old people are referred to in that manner. I was far from old. “You can call me Bay.”
“My mother says that’s not polite when talking to adults.”
I bit back a sigh ... but just barely. “Sit down and watch the witches with me,” I instructed, patting the bench. “You’ve obviously had a rough night and should rest.”
Dani didn’t put up any complaint. Instead she readily slid into the spot next to me and turned her eyes back to the show on the street. “What is Miss Tillie doing on that scooter?”
“Messing with the other witches. That’s what she does.”
“She looks like she’s having fun.”
That was the truth. Aunt Tillie might’ve been a righteous pain in the behind for most of her life but she was almost always fun.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” I offered, briefly wondering if I should refrain from bringing it up. Landon wanted me to get information, but I felt skeezy being underhanded in the attempt. Everything I knew about Dani suggested she was shy and well-behaved. I didn’t want to manipulate her.
“Thank you.” Dani’s voice momentarily cracked. “I heard you tried to save him and almost died. I wanted to thank you for trying.”
I felt bad for her. She was painfully polite even in grieving. “I liked your father,” I offered. “He was always really nice and he had a wicked sense of humor. He made people laugh all the time at the festivals.”
“Yeah. He was a good dad.”
“He was a good man,” I corrected. “He helped a lot of people in town, volunteering his time at various events. We’re really going to miss him.”
“I don’t know that I would call him a good man.” Dani’s expression darkened, but she didn’t expound on the statement. That put me in the awkward position of having to prod her, and I wasn’t necessarily comfortable doing that.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked finally.
“He was cheating on my mom,” she replied simply, her gaze never leaving the witches. “Everyone knew about it. He pretended to be a good guy, but he wasn’t. He broke her heart ... and I can’t help wondering if this is karma.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I’d never known Adam to have a wandering eye. Still, Dani would know better. “I’ve never heard that rumor.”
“It’s not a rumor. I heard my parents screaming at each other in the bedroom about it the other night. Mom says Dad betrayed her. He told her to stop whining, but he admitted to it.” Slowly, she tracked her eyes to me. “When you do bad things and other bad things happen to you in return, that’s karma, right?”
She asked the question with such blank-eyed earnestness I felt put on the spot. “Some people consider that karma,” I replied finally.
“Basically he got what he deserved.” She turned back to the cavorting witches. “That scooter looks fun. Maybe I should see if my mom will buy me one.”
And just like that, Dani was done talking about her father ... and I had more questions than answers.
Seven
I sat with Dani until her mother exited the police station. I had a million questions, but no matter how I tried to direct the conversation back to the bomb she’d dropped about her father’s affair, Dani wasn’t volunteering more information. She wanted to talk about the witches and nothing else.
/> Once Dani and her mother left, I headed for Hypnotic. It buzzed with activity — excited witches “oohing” and “aahing” over the assorted items for sale — so I wedged myself behind the counter to talk to Clove and Thistle without drawing too much attention.
“So ... I just had an interesting conversation with Dani Harris,” I announced.
“Oh, yeah?” Thistle slid her eyes to me. She was busy wrapping a stone mortar in tissue paper. “How is she handling her father’s death?”
“Not in the way you might think. She says her parents were arguing earlier in the week because her father was having an affair.”
Clove furrowed her brow. “Adam? That doesn’t sound like him. Are you sure she wasn’t confused? Grief can make people act out of sorts.”
“It can,” I agreed. “She didn’t seem confused. She refused to give me more information after dropping the bomb. I don’t suppose you guys have any ideas on who he might’ve been having an affair with?”
“I don’t think Adam was the type to have an affair,” Thistle replied, studying her handiwork. She was an artist at heart and even her wrapping job showed a bit of flair. “I’ve never seen him with anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s what I’m asking.” I’d searched my memory for instances of seeing Adam with a woman who wasn’t his wife and come up empty. “I don’t know what to make of it. She was really flat when she delivered the news, as if it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a big deal for her.”
“She asked a few questions about karma.”
“Really?” Thistle arched an eyebrow, intrigue washing over her features. “Well, that’s weird.”
That’s exactly what I was thinking. “I know, right? I find the whole thing weird.”
“You could ask Lorna,” Clove suggested. “She might own up to having marital issues.”
I thought about Lorna’s demeanor when she passed me in front of the police station. “I don’t think Lorna is in the mood to answer questions right now. She has her hands full.”
“If she was angry about Adam having an affair she did a masterful job of covering for it yesterday,” Thistle noted. “I mean ... she was screaming and carrying on. If Mrs. Gunderson didn’t have a firm hold on her she would’ve raced into the flames to try to save him.”
“She was beside herself,” I agreed.
“That could’ve been an act,” Clove pointed out. “That could’ve been for your benefit ... and it obviously worked, because you guys ran into that building to try to save him, which was an absolutely moronic thing to do.”
I murdered her with a dark glare. “Thank you so much for your opinion. It’s valued and appreciated.”
Thistle snorted. “You took the words right out of my mouth. She’s been whining about being left behind all morning.”
“You should be glad you were left behind.” I kept my voice low. “The paramedics were on us the second we left the building. You would’ve had to admit you were pregnant if you’d been there ... and you would’ve been in more danger than Thistle and me. Is that what you want?”
“What I want is not to be cut out of things now that we’re living apart,” Clove replied primly. “Our lives are different. That doesn’t mean I want to be ignored. I’m having a baby, not dying. I want to be included in the adventures.”
That seemed unlikely. “And how are you going to do that? Are you going to bring the baby with you when we’re breaking into stores ... or traipsing around the cemetery ... or throwing magic at whatever evil pops up at any given moment?”
“If need be.”
“What about when we’re looking for Bigfoot?” Thistle challenged. “Are you going to bring the baby on those excursions?”
“Bigfoot isn’t real.” Clove said it with conviction but doubt clouded her eyes. “We won’t be looking for Bigfoot because he’s not real ... probably.”
I smiled. Still, I understood what she was saying. We were creatures of habit. We didn’t embrace change all that well. “We have no intention of cutting you out. It’s just that your reality is a little different from ours right now. You can’t be involved with everything because it’s not safe for the baby.”
“But ... you know I hate being left out,” she whined.
“Yes, Clove suffers from a debilitating case of FOMO,” Thistle drawled. “She’ll succumb and die if we’re not careful.”
Clove’s glare was pronounced when it landed on Thistle. “I know you think you’re being funny, but you’re not. I don’t want to be left out. I’m becoming a mother, and that’s a good thing. But I was your cousin first. I don’t want to be forgotten.”
My heart went out to her. “We’re not going to forget you. We’re going to include you in as many things as possible. But it will never be exactly the same again. That’s not a bad thing. It just ... is.”
Tears flooded Clove’s dark eyes. “But that’s not what I want.”
I found my eyes burning with tears. Clove’s magical emotion cloud was back in action. “Oh, man.” I swiped at the tears beginning to trickle down my cheeks. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“Knock it off!” Thistle jabbed a finger at Clove as she grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter. “Do you have any idea how much I hate crying? I’m not even crying over things I care about. I’m crying because you’re a kvetch.”
“I can’t help it,” Clove offered with a half sob. “Sometimes it just happens. I’m not always in control of my emotions.”
“It’s the hormones,” I complained. “She can’t control them. We’ll have to make do until she pops out that kid ... or miraculously manages to turn this particular power off. Speaking of powers, something weird happened to me this morning.”
I told them about my run-in with the three ghosts. When I was finished, Clove’s tears had miraculously dried and Thistle looked legitimately intrigued.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Thistle muttered, shaking her head. “I was so confused at the time I didn’t realize that we had help escaping. This is turning into a handy little power.”
“Except for the part where I’m turning ghosts into slaves. I don’t like that part.”
“I don’t blame you, but you’ll get over it.” Thistle refused to back down. “Odds are we would’ve become overwhelmed with smoke yesterday if they didn’t help. I’m glad your subconscious took over and protected us.”
“Me, too,” Clove agreed. “Thistle told me what happened. It sounds terrifying.”
“I was too slow because of the lack of oxygen to be terrified,” I admitted. “I was more numb than anything else.”
“Me, too,” Thistle admitted. “As soon as we got fresh oxygen to our brains, things cleared. We were lucky ... and I’ve had to hear nothing but complaints from Marcus about how stupid we were since it happened.”
“Join the club.”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to be stupid,” she reminded me. “I wanted to stay outside. I only went inside because you insisted on going and I couldn’t very well leave you. That essentially means you’re the reason I’m being called stupid.”
“You can’t blame that on me.”
“I just did.”
“Let’s not get in an argument about this,” Clove said firmly, shooting us both warning looks before gesturing toward the busy store. “I don’t want to lose customers. I think this is going to be a good week for us and I’m saving for a crib.”
Thistle made a face. “You don’t pay for that stuff yourself. You wait and have a baby shower and make everybody else pay for it.”
“Yeah, but ... nobody knows.”
“Yet,” I corrected. “They don’t know yet. In another week, they will know and then we can start planning. Don’t buy anything until after you get back from your honeymoon.”
Clove looked happy at the prospect. “I hope you’re right. Circling back to your other problem, I think you should talk to Mrs. Little.”
I’d almost forgotten
I’d had a purpose when I entered the store. “You want me to talk to Mrs. Little about Adam? Why? I very much doubt he was having an affair with her.”
Clove’s expression was withering. “I wasn’t suggesting that. Mrs. Little knows all the gossip. She can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business. If you want to know if Adam was really having an affair, talk to her.”
The idea of talking to Mrs. Little about anything often gave me indigestion. Still, it was a place to start. “That’s not a bad idea. Does anyone want to go with me?”
Thistle’s snort of disdain echoed throughout the store. “Nice try. We’re busy, and no one wants to talk to Mrs. Little. If you really want to dig on this, you’re on your own.”
THERE WERE TIMES I THOUGHT Mrs. Little was the worst person imaginable. No, seriously. I grew up with Aunt Tillie and she taught me a thing or two about vengeance and enjoying the misery of others, but Mrs. Little was far worse.
I knew about evil, understood about sociopaths. I recognized some people couldn’t change because of their nature. Mrs. Little was different. It wasn’t that she couldn’t change. It was that she wouldn’t change. She didn’t want to make herself better. She was fine being horrible.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t occasionally a fount of good information.
“Hello, Bay.” She stood behind the counter, feather duster in hand. The look on her face was unreadable.
“Hello, Mrs. Little.” I refused to show weakness. She had frightened me when I was a child. There was just something about her. As I grew older and watched Aunt Tillie make her life miserable, I found amusement in her antics. It wasn’t until I was an adult, though, that I realized what she truly was.
Aunt Tillie found joy in smiting her enemies. She never went after a person who didn’t deserve it ... or at least earn a reckoning in her head. Mrs. Little went after the weak and shy. She went after the young and old. She went after anyone who got in her way. She was a conqueror ... although in recent years she’d been conquered herself more than once.
Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set Page 65
