Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Of course you would think that. You like the witches.”

  “I don’t particularly like or dislike them. I am curious about why you’re so anti-witch. I mean ... other than Aunt Tillie. I know she gave you grief the course of your life, but you’re hardly alone in that.”

  “I told you that I don’t like any witches.”

  I decided to let the indirect dig go. “Okay ... but why?”

  “This town has always been crawling with them.”

  That was news to me. As far as I knew, we were the only real witches who lived in the area. “You know that most of the people in this town aren’t real witches, right?” I couldn’t be sure that Viola’s knowledge base extended that far. “The people here just pretend to be witches for the tourists.”

  “Are we really having this conversation?” She flicked me between the eyebrows, and she was strong enough that I felt it.

  I reared back, surprised. “You really are getting better at that.” I rubbed my forehead. “That was ... wow.”

  “Yes, I’m gifted.” Viola rolled her eyes. “I need you to focus. Those witches out there are dangerous, especially given what’s going on with the birds.”

  The statement was simple enough, but it set my teeth on edge. “You’ve seen the birds?”

  “Have you?”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen them.” Oddly enough, even though she was a kvetch of the highest order — something Aunt Tillie had been telling me for years — Viola was actually circling an important topic. “What do you think they mean?”

  She shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? I’m not a bird expert … but I have found that they sense ghosts and don’t like us one bit. I can change their flight path if I’m feeling feisty, although that’s sort of lost its luster.”

  I filed away that tidbit for later. “You’re not a bird expert, but you seem to believe you have some knowledge about witches. The birds have been a thing since Adam died.”

  “Yeah, that’s sad.” Viola worked her jaw, her eyes trained on the window. “He was a good man. I never understood why he married Lorna.”

  “Do you know something about Lorna?”

  “Just that she’s a witch.”

  Viola could’ve knocked me over with a harbinger feather I was so surprised by the statement. “How do you know she’s a witch? I’ve been around her numerous times and I’ve never gotten that vibe.”

  “Well, maybe she’s not the same sort of witch you are. Have you ever considered that?”

  “What other kinds of witches are there?” I genuinely wanted to know.

  “Evil witches.”

  “But ... .” This conversation was going nowhere. When Landon mentioned earlier that the investigation kept circling and dying, that’s how I felt about my interaction with Viola. “Let’s start from the beginning.” I forced a smile for her benefit. “Tell me why you think Lorna is a witch.”

  “I don’t have any concrete knowledge that she’s a witch,” Viola admitted after a beat.

  “Then why did you say that?”

  “Because her mother was definitely a witch.”

  I leaned back in my chair, conflicted. “I don’t remember Lorna’s mother all that well. She died a good fifteen years ago or so, right?”

  “That sounds about right.” Viola nodded as she did the math in her head. “Maybe it was closer to twenty now. It’s hard for me to remember now that I’m dead. Time doesn’t pass the same way.”

  “I can look up her date of death,” I offered. “I was a kid when she died. I remember it was big news around town because it was some sort of weird accident. Mom didn’t think it was a good idea to take us to the funeral because we were too young.

  “I remember being interested because everyone was whispering about the death,” I continued. “It was some sort of freak farm equipment accident or something. She fell in a thresher, I think.”

  “That was one hunch,” Viola confirmed. “There were whispers that it was something else, though.”

  “What sort of whispers?”

  “People said that Diane’s ghost killed her.”

  Now I was really lost. “I’m sorry... who is Diane?”

  “You know ... Diane.”

  It took everything I had to keep my temper in check. Having a linear conversation with Viola was often a fruitless endeavor. “I still don’t know who Diane is.”

  “Lorna’s sister.”

  I racked my brain. “I didn’t know Lorna had a sister,” I said finally. That seemed like something I should know. “She’s lived in Hemlock Cove her entire life. She was born back when it was Walkerville, but I was under the impression that she’d never left the area.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So ... how do I not know about her sister?”

  “She disappeared when you were still a kid,” Viola replied. “Lorna and Diane were eleven months apart. They were the sort of twins who weren’t really twins.”

  I knew what she meant. There was a name for siblings born within a year of each other: Irish twins. “What happened to her?”

  “Nobody knows. Diane was the older sister and was closer with the mother.”

  “What was the mother’s name?”

  “Leslie Merchant.”

  I nodded and typed the woman’s name into the newspaper archives. I found her obituary relatively quickly. “She died nineteen years ago, which would’ve made me eleven. It looks like there was a police investigation at the time because Lorna was home when the incident occurred.”

  I typed in Diane’s name. There was less information on her. “It says here that Diane ran away.”

  “That was the assumption. She was always a wild child. She had crazy dark hair, like Clove, and she was rail thin. She had a face like Thistle, though.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Like she was always smelling something nasty.” Viola mimicked the face in question and I couldn’t swallow my chuckle. I very much doubted Thistle would appreciate Viola’s imitation of her.

  “Was Diane a witch?”

  “The whole family was rumored to be witches, with Leslie the queen of the coven. Lorna was considered the quiet one. People had high hopes for her ... but now I have to wonder if she was simply better at hiding her true nature.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m saying that Lorna probably killed Adam. That’s what everyone in town is whispering about anyway. I heard Margaret telling her little flying monkeys about it yesterday. She’s telling anyone who will listen that Lorna is guilty.”

  That didn’t surprise me. “Mrs. Little should keep her mouth shut about things that aren’t fact,” I said. “This isn’t the first time this week that she’s been spreading absolute nonsense. She told me that Sheila Carpenter was having an affair with Adam and that turned out to be total nonsense because she just wanted to pay me back for stealing the campground property and pay Sheila back for not allowing her to deliver a sermon at church.”

  “Yeah, that sounds just like her,” Viola agreed. “But I don’t know that she’s wrong about Lorna. Even Margaret is occasionally right.”

  “Well, there’s no proof that Lorna is guilty.” I thought about the bereaved woman I’d spent the previous morning with. “She’s mourning hard. I know that doesn’t necessarily mean anything — it could be remorse if she did kill him — but I’m not prepared to declare her guilty based on rumor and innuendo.”

  “I’m just telling you what I heard.”

  “What about the sister? How did she disappear?”

  “It was in the middle of the night,” Viola replied. “She was supposedly in bed sleeping when Leslie turned in for the evening and was gone by the time she woke. Lorna and Diane shared a room. Lorna swears she didn’t hear anything.”

  “Were any of Diane’s belongings missing?”

  Viola shrugged. “I have no idea. It was a long time ago. If I were you, I’d ask Tillie. She helped search for the girl. They never found her.”<
br />
  Even though I was fed up with Aunt Tillie’s antics and attitude, that’s exactly what I planned to do.

  SHE WASN’T HARD TO TRACK down. As was her everyday routine of late, she was dressed to impress — the dragon leggings I knew for a fact had been chucked more than once covering her legs — and zipping around the sidewalks on her scooter.

  “I’m thinking of giving the scooter a name,” she announced when I flagged her down. “What do you think about Monster?”

  “As a name for your scooter?”

  “Yeah. I’m riding my Monster. I think it has a nice ring to it.”

  I honestly didn’t care. “Go nuts.”

  “I might paint flames on it, too.”

  “That sounds like a surefire way to make Mom’s head implode ... so go for it.”

  She grinned. “You’re still mad about last night, aren’t you? I know things didn’t go how you expected, but it’s better that the news is out. Lying is always a poor way to improve familial relations.”

  That was rich coming from her. Still, a niggling suspicion cropped up at the back of my mind. “You didn’t purposely arrange it so the information came out that way, did you?”

  “What a horrible thing to say about your favorite aunt. I can’t believe you would even go there.”

  That wasn’t a denial, but because things had worked out — er, well, mostly worked out — I was willing to let it go. At least for the time being. “Nobody likes a fink,” I reminded her. That was a mantra she’d preached constantly when we were kids and she was trying to keep us from tattling on her. “I need to ask you about Diane and Leslie Merchant. What do you know about them?”

  “Why are you asking about them?”

  “I just had a very long conversation with Viola.”

  “I’m sorry.” Aunt Tillie was solemn. “Do you want me to put you out of your misery now? I’m sure you want to die after having a conversation with that woman.”

  I ignored the dig. This was not the time for one of Aunt Tillie’s petty fights to derail me. “She claims Leslie was a witch and she passed on her magic to Lorna and Diane.”

  Aunt Tillie snorted. “Oh, please. Leslie was not a witch.”

  “Why does Viola think that?”

  “Leslie pretended to be a witch ... and before it was considered cool in this town. She didn’t have any magic. She was a fair potion maker. That was basically her claim to fame.”

  “And what kind of potions did she concoct?”

  “The usual. She made healing potions, claimed she could cure alcoholism ... which was a steaming pile of crap. She also made love potions and peddled them to the women in town so they could snag a husband.”

  That was hardly the first time I’d heard a similar story. Women of a certain age, when they had children to provide for, were called witch and worse when they thought outside the box. “What happened to Leslie’s husband?”

  “Drank himself to death. He was a mean cuss. Nobody mourned his death ... including Leslie and her girls. It was almost a relief when he died.”

  That was interesting. “So the husband died of alcoholism ... and the mother died in a weird farm accident ... and the sister disappeared. That’s a lot of odd happenings around one woman.”

  “Are you thinking Lorna took all of them out?”

  I wasn’t sure what I believed. “I don’t know. That’s a lot of coincidences. Viola said you helped search for Diane. Do you believe she ran away?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know her all that well. She was a mouthy girl — and I didn’t want her hanging around your mother and aunts because they were mouthy enough — but I often thought she was misunderstood more than malevolent.”

  And that right there was why you could never fully write off Aunt Tillie. Buried deep down — extremely deep down sometimes — was a good heart. She probably searched from sun-up to sunset looking for that girl ... and for days.

  “No sign of her was ever found?”

  “None.”

  “Did she take any of her belongings from the house?”

  “As I remember it, some clothes and a bag were gone, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she packed that bag. If someone wanted to cover up a death, that would be an easy way to do it. Especially years ago. Cops didn’t worry about missing teenagers back then like they do today.”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Do you think Lorna could be a witch?”

  “I don’t think her mother was a witch so I doubt she is. Still, now that you mention it, death does seem to follow her. But I’m not sure I believe she’s capable of the mayhem you’re suggesting.”

  “I’m not sure I believe it either. Still, I have to check.”

  “Well, have fun with that.” She tossed her cape over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes as they landed on Mrs. Little. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a different sort of witch to burn at the stake.”

  I could do nothing but shake my head. “Don’t do anything that could open you up to a lawsuit. Mom will be mad.”

  “I’m not afraid of your mother ... but don’t tell her I said that.”

  I grinned. “It will be our little secret, even though you are a fink.”

  “Watch yourself. You don’t want to join your cousin at the top of my list, do you?”

  “Go forth and wreak havoc.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Eighteen

  I was still bothered by the witch rumors regarding Lorna’s family when lunch time rolled around. I met Landon and Chief Terry at the diner, but my mind wasn’t on the casual conversation and food.

  “What’s your deal?” Landon asked after we placed our orders.

  “What?” I drew my eyebrows together. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Exactly. You haven’t said more than two words since you joined us.” He gave my hair a light tug and smiled. “I like my women chatty.”

  “Oh, geez.” Chief Terry rolled his eyes. “If this is going to turn into a scene from The Flirting Game, I’m out of here.”

  “I’m just worried,” Landon countered. “What are you thinking?”

  I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the news and needed an outside opinion, so I filled them in on my morning. When I finished, Chief Terry spoke first.

  “I remember that,” he nodded while fiddling with the straw wrapper on the table. “I was in the academy when Diane disappeared.”

  “Did you know her?” Landon leaned back and rested his arm on the back of the booth. I took the opportunity to slide closer to him, absorb some of his warmth. I had a few ideas, none of them good, which was making me cold all over.

  “I knew of her. I wasn’t really her speed. She was wild, liked to party and hang out with a rough crowd. Even back then I was kind of a goody-goody.”

  “I like that you’re a goody-goody.” I patted his hand and smiled. “If you weren’t such a good guy, Aunt Tillie would’ve completely skewed my moral compass when I was a kid. You saved me.”

  “Oh, that’s kind of cute.” He beamed at me. “It’s a load of hogwash, but cute.”

  “Now I’m going to puke,” Landon lamented, shaking his head. “I hate it when you guys do that surrogate-father-and-daughter thing. It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “The only reason it makes you uncomfortable is because I know what a filthy mind you have and how you point it at my sweetheart.”

  Landon was smug. “She’s my sweetheart now.”

  “She’ll always be my sweetheart ... and don’t make that word perverted. I don’t like it.” Chief Terry shot him a warning look and then focused on me. “What do you think it means?”

  “I don’t know.” That was the truth. “I was just surprised. I never gave much thought to Lorna’s family. I had no idea they were rumored to be witches. I thought that distinction belonged to my family alone.”

  “Well, to be fair, the term ‘witch’ has been thrown around as long as I can remember,” Chief Terry countered. “Margaret is responsible
for some of that. She thinks she can isolate and alienate people by calling them names.”

  I could see that. “Do you think Leslie Merchant was a witch?”

  “I ... don’t know.” Chief Terry hesitated before finishing. “I always found her weird. I would be lying if I said otherwise. I don’t know that I believe she was a witch. That’s hard to wrap my head around.”

  “Yeah.” I tapped the side of my glass and leaned back in the booth. “What about the farm equipment accident?”

  “That was before I was on the force here. I was still serving in Traverse City at the time.”

  “You must’ve heard something about it.” I refused to let it go. “I’m not asking for the gory details, but Viola made it sound as if there was a possibility it wasn’t an accident.”

  “Viola was always prone to histrionics,” Chief Terry muttered, shaking his head. “As far as I know, it was ruled an accident quickly. Leslie was in the field — they had a huge cornfield at the time — and the story goes that she thought she’d put the harvester in park and moved ahead of it to check something. The brake failed and ... she was killed quickly.”

  I was horrified at the thought. “That’s just ... not the way I want to go.”

  “You’re going to live forever,” Landon countered, his hand moving to my back. “I get what you’re saying. Did a mechanic prove the brake failed?”

  “If I remember correctly he said that it stuck and then unstuck randomly. People believed she thought it was in park but it was really stuck, and that’s how she was caught unaware.”

  “That’s just a terrible way to go.” I shook my head and pressed my eyes shut. “I don’t like that at all.”

  “Join the club.” Landon was squeamish about certain things and that was on full display now. “I’m curious about the witch rumors. Can witches call birds?”