Happy Witchgiving: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short

by Amanda M. Lee

  Bay shifted her eyes to me. They were their usual bright color, and she didn’t look pale or waxen, so I figured I was overreacting. “We didn’t get a lot of sleep,” she said.

  “And why is that?” Winnie asked.

  “You weren’t spying on that couple, were you?” I shot Marnie a thankful smile as she pushed a mug of coffee in my direction. “I told you last night that I thought you were barking up the wrong tree.”

  “They’re evil,” Thistle said. “I can feel it in my bones.”

  “Oh, geez,” Twila muttered. “You sound like Aunt Tillie.”

  Thistle made a face. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “You’ll live.”

  I had indulged Bay, Clove and Thistle’s game for a decent amount of time the previous night. Caroline and Charles Garvey were boisterous and sometimes brash, but they seemed perfectly normal to me. They were in the area visiting relatives one town over, but no matter how much information they shared about their trip the teenagers remained convinced they were up to something nefarious. I think teenagers need constant stimulation or they get bored, and that’s what’s going on here.

  “They’re over-sharers,” Thistle said. “That’s always a sign that people are hiding something.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” I said, grabbing some bacon from the center plate. “What’s an over-sharer?”

  “A person who shares too much,” Bay automatically answered. “That means they volunteered a bunch of information to us. It was full of details, but it told us nothing.”

  “Uh-huh.” I rubbed my forehead. Living full time with teenagers must be baffling – and tiring. Winnie, Twila and Marnie seemed mildly irritated with the girls, but not surprised by their suspicions. That told me this wasn’t the first time they’d done something like this. “Perhaps they’re just excited to see family. Charles told me that he hasn’t seen his brother in almost five years. Maybe they talked so much because they couldn’t help themselves from being excited.”

  “How are you still alive?” an incredulous Thistle asked. “If this was a horror movie you would be the dead blonde in the shower. Although, your breasts aren’t nearly big enough.”

  “Thistle!” Twila slapped the table as I swallowed my laughter. The things Thistle came up with sometimes were downright hysterical. I was pretty sure the girl could have a future in stand-up comedy if she so desired. “Don’t say things like that.”

  Thistle was unperturbed by her mother’s tone. “He knows he doesn’t have breasts. He’s not offended.”

  “She’s right,” I said, grinning. “I still don’t understand why you’re convinced these two people are criminals.”

  “Bay read an article that said one out of every ten people is a criminal,” Clove supplied. “There are ten guests staying here right now. That means one of them has to be a criminal. We’ve been watching all of them, and the Garveys are the only ones who seem suspicious.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think the guy who kept picking his nose and coughing into his hand to cover it is kind of shady,” Bay said. “The Garveys just have a weird vibe”

  “That’s another thing,” Thistle said. “Their names are Charles and Caroline.”

  Did she just explain something? “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It’s from Little House on the Prairie,” Bay explained. “Charles and Caroline Ingalls.”

  “Okay, but their last name is Garvey.”

  “Yes, but there was a Garvey family in Little House on the Prairie,” Thistle said. “It’s all a little … Law & Order: SVU.”

  “On the prairie,” Clove added.

  Wow. “You guys watch way too much television,” I said, shaking my head. “I think we should assume that the Garveys are telling the truth and their names are a coincidence. Charles and Caroline are common names.”

  “I think you’re never going to survive the end of the world when it comes because you’re far too trusting,” Thistle said. “Don’t worry about it, though. We’re watching them. We’ve got everything under control.”

  “Uh-huh.” I didn’t have time to make sense of teenage logic. “Well, just don’t do anything until you run it by me first, okay?”

  “We would never,” Bay said solemnly. “We’re partners in this.”

  “Okay.” I sipped my coffee and then turned my attention to the mothers at the table. “What does everyone else have going on today?”

  “Normal stuff,” Winnie replied. “We’re going to get a leg up on our Christmas baking. That takes a month to finish and then we freeze stuff. We pick one recipe a weekend between now and then. Today it’s Christmas tree cookies.”

  “Oh, yay!” Bay clapped her hands as her expression brightened. It was almost enough to chase the circles from beneath her eyes.

  “Can we have some?” Clove was interested, too.

  “We will keep one plate out for you girls,” Winnie replied. “You have to be good to get them.”

  “Are they those little sugar cookies with the green frosting?” I asked.

  Winnie nodded.

  “Those are damn fine cookies,” I said. “You girls better be good today or I’ll eat all of them myself.”

  “We’ll be good,” Bay said.

  “Mostly good,” Clove added.

  “Speak for yourself,” Thistle countered. “I’m going to be me and just steal cookies from everyone else. That sounds easier.”

  And that summed up this trio. “Well, I’ll be getting a full report from your mothers when I get back tonight,” I said, winking at Winnie. “They’re going to let me dole out the cookies, so you’d better be on your best behavior.”

  Thistle snorted. “That’s not saying much in this house,” she said. “Next to Aunt Tillie, we’re practically angels.”

  She had a point. “Speaking of Tillie, where is she?” I almost missed it, but I was positive Bay and Thistle exchanged a quick look before focusing on their plates. That couldn’t be good.

  “She’s upstairs getting ready,” Twila replied. “When the seasons change it’s always a big deal for her to shuffle her wardrobe.”

  That sounded … preposterous. “She always wears the same thing.”

  “Not really,” Thistle said. “She wears green camouflage during the summer because it fits in and allows her to stalk the woods for evil-doers without anyone noticing she’s there. When all the leaves die in the fall, she switches to brown camouflage so no one can see her coming.”

  “She’s the invisible marauder,” Clove said, parroting back what I’m sure was a Tillie claim from their childhood.

  Yeah, I should’ve realized it would be something like that. “Well … .”

  As if on cue, the distinctive sound of Tillie throwing a fit upstairs assailed my ears. It didn’t sound as if words were the only thing she was throwing, because something definitely hit a wall on the second floor.

  “Someone is in big trouble!”

  This time there could be no denying the look Thistle and Bay exchanged.

  “We’re done with breakfast so we’re going to go,” Bay said, wiping her hands and throwing her napkin on the table. “We have that garden shed work we promised to finish for you. We’ll be out there.”

  “Yeah,” Thistle said. “We love outdoor work.”

  I expected Winnie to halt them but she was too busy staring at the ceiling. She didn’t notice as the girls raced out the back door, slamming it behind them in their haste to get outside. No wonder the three scamps get away with murder. Tillie confounds things and their mothers are more worried about keeping her in line than their offspring.

  “Where are they?” Tillie appeared at the bottom of the stairs, her hair standing on end. Sure enough, she was dressed in brown camouflage pants. You learn something new every day.

  “Where is who?” Winnie asked.

  “Toil, Trouble and Thistle.” Either Tillie couldn’t think of a name for Thistle or the girl’s moniker already struck f
ear in the Winchester populace all on its own. “I know they were just down here.”

  “I think they said they were going outside to clean up the garden shed,” Winnie said. “I can’t remember exactly what they said, though.”

  “Who cares?” Marnie added. “We want them outside. Pretty soon it’s going to snow and then they’re going to be inside twenty-four hours a day. Then we’ll all need to be committed.”

  “What’s wrong anyway?” Twila asked. “Why were you yelling?”

  “Someone has been in my room,” Tillie intoned. “Unless it was one of you – which I very much doubt – it was one of them. Or, most likely, all of them.”

  “Why would they go in your room?” I asked. “Isn’t that off limits?”

  Tillie glanced at me. We didn’t have an especially close relationship, but we shared mutual respect and admiration. “Why are the Keystone Cops here?”

  Or maybe that was just me.

  “He’s staying at the inn while his house is tented for termites,” Winnie answered. “We told you that last night.”

  “Yes, but sometimes you yammer on so long I just nod and pretend I’m listening,” Tillie said. “It’s not my fault you talk so much. If you could get your point across in fewer sentences I think it would benefit all of us.”

  Winnie narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Tillie ruled the roost – until she didn’t. She could push Winnie only so far before she pushed back. “What was stolen from your room?”

  Tillie tilted her head to the side and glanced at me. Whatever was missing she didn’t want to own up to it in front of law enforcement. That meant it was probably some of her homemade wine. “I don’t recall.”

  “Then how do you know something is missing?” Marnie challenged.

  “Perhaps I’m psychic.”

  “Perhaps you’re psycho,” Twila said. I think she believed she was thinking her comment because when she realized she said it out loud her cheeks colored. “I mean … you’re psychotic.”

  “That’s worse, Twila,” Marnie said, shaking her head. “Either tell us what’s missing and we’ll ask the girls or let it go, Aunt Tillie. We don’t have time to mess around with you all day.”

  “Don’t you worry about me,” Tillie said. “I will handle this matter on my own.”

  “How will you do that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “I’m nothing if not gifted,” Tillie replied, stalking toward the door. “You said they went out back, right?”

  “They’re supposed to be in the garden shed,” Winnie supplied.

  “That means they’ll be someplace else,” Tillie said, throwing open the door before bellowing. “I’m coming, girls!”

  I expected Winnie, Twila or Marnie to follow their aunt and stop her from doing whatever it was she had planned. Instead they ignored the mayhem.

  “So, what are you doing today, Terry?” Winnie asked, flashing a flirty smile.

  “Just normal stuff,” I replied, casting a worried look at the door Tillie disappeared through. She wouldn’t kill her great-nieces, right? “I don’t expect anything big to cross my desk.”

  “Well, don’t be late for dinner. We’re having roasted chicken tonight.”

  “I’ll be here with bells on.”

  “Oh, don’t do that,” Twila said. “Aunt Tillie hates bells. She’ll curse you.”

  Yeah, there’s never a dull moment in the Winchester house of horrors.

  BY THE TIME I was ready to leave the office that afternoon I’d almost managed to put the morning’s antics out of my head.

  Whatever Bay, Clove and Thistle did to Tillie would most likely be remedied by the time I hit the bed and breakfast, and after a crazy day dealing with Walkerville’s finest – and I use that term loosely – I was ready for a glass of bourbon and a spot in front of the fireplace.

  That’s when Parker appeared in my office, making an easy escape out of the question.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment when he blocked the office door. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong, sir,” Parker said. “I’m glad I caught you before you left for the day, though.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you’ve been busy all afternoon, sir,” Parker said. “I saw Norman Peterson in here and I thought he wouldn’t stop talking for the entire night at the rate he was going.”

  “Yes, he’s convinced that Selma Baker is stripping down next door and trying to entice his son by walking past her window naked,” I said dryly.

  “Isn’t Selma Baker eighty?”

  I shrugged. “Norman’s kid is sixteen. We’re all animals at that age. I told him I would talk to her.”

  “Are you going to talk to her?” Parker looked horrified at the prospect.

  “I sent you an email,” I said, internally chuckling. “You can add it to your list of duties tomorrow.”

  Parker tried to swallow his disgust but couldn’t hide his revulsion. “Anything I can do to serve the town, sir.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “How is your investigation into the con man coming along? I can’t remember his name.” To be fair, I couldn’t remember anything about the guy. That’s how far down on my list of worries it was.

  “It’s Adam Edwards, sir.”

  “And how is your search for Adam Edwards going?”

  “Well, the state police sent this over.” Parker handed me an updated BOLO and I scanned the information, arching an eyebrow when I got to the interesting part. “This says the man appears to be traveling with a woman now and possibly heading in this direction.”

  “I know, sir. Isn’t that great?”

  I pressed my lips together and focused on Parker. “I’m not sure ‘great’ is the word I would choose, but what’s your plan of attack?”

  “I’m going to monitor all of the inns in the area for new visitors and conduct constant surveillance on the town.”

  “Constant surveillance?”

  “I’m dedicated to keeping this town safe, sir.” You couldn’t fault Parker’s work ethic. His gung-ho attitude was another story. That was so fervent it bordered on annoying. Oh, who am I kidding? It passed annoying two weeks after I hired him.

  “Well, keep me updated,” I said, grabbing my coat from the back of my chair and switching off my computer monitor. “I’ll be out at the Winchesters’ place if you need me.”

  “Have you seen anything … witchy?” Parker asked, too interested to maintain his reserve.

  “I’ve watched three teenagers drive their mothers crazy and convince themselves that two of the guests are evil,” I replied. “I’m pretty sure they stole some wine from their great-aunt, too, so I’m waiting for something to happen with that, and I’m pretty sure it will be loud. That’s about it, though.”

  “Well, if you need help with them, don’t forget to call,” Parker said. “Did we ever settle on a safe word?”

  “We did,” I said, forcing a smile. “Have a nice night.”

  Parker obviously didn’t grasp the sarcasm. “Which one of those words is the code, sir?”

  Four

  “Where is everyone?”

  Marnie was standing behind the front desk when I entered the inn, her face blank as she daydreamed about something. Perhaps she wasn’t daydreaming, though. Perhaps she simply wanted a break from her sisters … and daughter … and nieces … and her aunt. Especially her aunt. Time alone in this place must come at a premium.

  “They’re around,” Marnie said, her smile turning flirty. She and her sisters play a game in which they like to entice me. I’m not sure if they really like me or if they just want to win, although I’m leaning toward the latter. Everyone gets along, don’t get me wrong, but winning is a highly valued in this family. “Winnie and Twila are finishing up the cookies.”

  “And the girls?”

  Marnie smirked. “They’re outside. I think they’re still hiding from Aunt Tillie. It’s been a long day of sl
amming doors and people running through the inn.”

  That couldn’t be good for business. “Have the guests been complaining?”

  “They think it’s a show,” Marnie replied. “Someone even called it ‘family theater.’ I’m not sure what that means, but no one has complained.”

  I dropped my files on top of the desk and glanced around. It was quiet. Too quiet. Part of the appeal of staying here is the noise. “I’ll go outside and find the girls,” I offered. “If they’re getting in trouble I’ll put an end to it.”

  Marnie snorted. “They’re always getting in trouble. Knock yourself out, though.”

  I turned back toward the door but Marnie stopped me before I stepped outside.

  “Oh, and if you could remind them to make sure the dog does his business before they come inside, that would be great.”

  The dog. How could I forget Sugar? I was the reason they had him. He was a big-breed mutt that watched and loved all three of them. He was getting up there in age, although the girls didn’t seem to mind that he preferred sleeping in front of the fireplace more than playing these days. When he passed – which was hopefully still a few years off – they would be crushed.

  “I’ll remind them.”

  Winters in northern Lower Michigan are brutal, and they come on fast. Summers are blessed with long days of sunshine (and sometimes cursed with heavy humidity). Autumn is my favorite time of year, the temperature remaining comfortable even as the leaves turn. Once Halloween hits, though, anything after that could be considered winter. We didn’t have snow on the ground yet – although a few flurries fell the other night without sticking – but it was inevitable.

  With the days getting shorter, it was almost dark. The bed and breakfast is located in an isolated portion of town. The parcel of land the Winchesters own is huge, and while Marnie, Twila and Winnie don’t seem to worry about the girls running around after dark with so many trees to get lost in, I can’t help but debate the intelligence associated with that. Sure, the girls are teenagers and capable of taking care of themselves, but they are still technically children.