“Oh, we plan to leave before the sun even comes up,” Charles replied. “You probably won’t even see us. You don’t have to clean our room or anything, though. Tomorrow is a holiday, and we’ll be back before dinner so we can eat twice.”
“Yes, we’re really looking forward to it,” Caroline said. “We definitely don’t need maid service, though.”
Well, that was downright suspicious. They were basically saying they planned to get up in the dead of the night and sneak out of the inn. And they don’t want anyone in their room while they’re gone. What are they hiding? The money from Mrs. Little’s store, perhaps? Fake land deeds?
“Well, I’m sure it will be a great day for everyone,” I said, reaching for my glass of wine. “Personally, I can’t wait to get a load of the turkey these ladies are going to whip up. Their cooking is legendary.”
“Oh, thank you, Terry,” Winnie said, preening.
“He was talking to me,” Marnie snapped.
“Not even close,” Winnie shot back.
“You’re both wrong,” Twila interjected. “He was talking to me.”
Marnie and Winnie snorted in unison. “In your dreams!”
I ignored the feigned catfight and glanced at Tillie. Her eyes were thoughtful when they locked with mine. It was obvious we were in agreement. Whatever the Garveys had planned, it was going down tonight. There was no doubt about that.
Now we only had to figure out their plan, catch them in the act, and make sure the turkey wasn’t ruined. What? Priorities, people.
Nine
“Is everyone in bed?”
Tillie, a combat helmet firmly in place on her head and black boots to match on her feet, met me at the bottom of the family staircase shortly before ten. The fact that I was going on an investigative mission with her was … dumbfounding. I didn’t have a lot of options, though. I had no proof Charles and Caroline Garvey were criminals. I had to catch them in the act for that. I needed backup, and I couldn’t call in Parker in case I was wrong. That left Tillie. What is the world coming to?
“The house is quiet,” she replied. “That hardly means everyone is in bed, though.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can’t speak for the guests, but I’m guessing most of them – except the ones we’re looking for – are down for the night,” Tillie explained. “My nieces are in their bedrooms reading – or drinking in Twila’s case. She likes a bit of the nosh before sleep.”
“That’s good, right? That means they won’t come down here for the rest of the night.”
“Probably not,” Tillie confirmed. “Our problem is the three younger ones.”
How did I know she was going to say that? I pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off what I’m sure would be a monster of a headache if it took hold. “What are they doing?”
“I stopped in their room to mess with them, let them know I would be watching if they tried to steal my wine; you know, put a good scare in them,” Tillie answered. “I thought if we could keep them in there plotting revenge it would be worth it.”
“And?”
“And they’re suspicious and I think expecting them to stay in their room is probably more than they can handle.”
“Well, great,” I muttered. “What should we do? Should I go up there and order them to stay in their room? That might make things worse.”
“Unless you want to see teddy bear pajamas and more Clearasil than should be allowed under law, I’d steer clear of that room,” Tillie said. “Don’t worry about it. I locked them in.”
I stilled, confused. “You locked them in? Are you telling me you locked that door from the outside so they can’t get out? That’s a fire hazard. What if something goes wrong? They could be hurt.”
“Not that way, drama queen,” Tillie said, rolling her eyes. “I used these.” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis.
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“Probably not,” Tillie replied. “You like pretending everything happening in this house is normal. You know it’s not and yet … it is.”
“Yes, well, great,” I said. “Just for clarification, though, what happens to them if there’s a fire?”
“They’re allowed out if there’s an emergency,” Tillie said. “It’s not just a fire. Say bad people went up to that room. They’re allowed to fight back and run if need be. They just can’t leave if they’re planning to break the rules.”
“That’s actually fairly ingenious.”
“I know.” Tillie puffed her chest out. “I could win Jeopardy if I wanted.”
“Sure. Whatever. Where do you think they’ll hit? Should we split up? Maybe one of us should go to the lobby and hide and the other to the kitchen. How does that sound?”
“Like you want to handle the kitchen so you can eat cookies.”
I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth to stop myself from saying something snotty. “I’ll take the lobby.”
“That’s good,” Tillie said. “There’s still a doughnut with sprinkles in that box you brought home and I think it has my name on it.”
We separated in the dining room, me heading in one direction and Tillie the other. It was odd being in the big house alone so late at night. I enjoyed visiting as often as I could – Winnie insisted I eat dinner with the family at least twice a week – but I never realized how quiet it was without teenaged Winchesters bouncing around and excitedly telling me about their days.
In truth, that was my favorite part about visiting for dinner. Oh, sure, the food was phenomenal. I liked the camaraderie, though. I love listening to Bay tell me about the book she’s reading, even though I might not get why she wants to read it. I like Clove waxing poetic about whatever boy struck her fancy this week. Then, of course, I like telling her why that boy is a bad idea and how she should stay away from him. I even like listening to Thistle plot how to take down her enemies – mostly because it revolves around that sneaky snake Lila Stevens, who goes out of her way to make Bay miserable at every turn. It’s mundane and magical at the same time.
I crouched in the small alcove in the archway between the dining room and one of the lobby chairs. Given the limited light, I was completely hidden and there was no way the Garveys would risk turning on more lights and drawing attention to themselves.
I remained in my spot for what felt like forever. In real time it was probably only fifteen minutes, but my knees ached as though they belonged to a man twenty years older and finally I had no choice but to stand. That’s when I heard a noise from the bowels of the house. It sounded as if it originated from the kitchen.
I took a chance and left the lobby, carefully navigating around the chairs and table in the dining room. I pressed my ear to the door in the kitchen, sucking in a breath when I heard a drawer opening and then closing. Then it happened with another drawer.
Someone was ransacking the kitchen. Where was Tillie? Why hadn’t she made her move? Perhaps they discovered her and knocked her out. She was elderly, no matter how much she hated people pointing that out. I wasn’t armed – which was probably a mistake, but I didn’t want to risk shooting anyone in the dark. I carefully pushed open the swinging door that led to the kitchen, keeping as quiet as possible as I patted my hand on top of the counter, finally coming up with a weapon I could use. Then I sucked in a breath, squared my shoulders and flicked on the kitchen light.
“Gotcha!”
Tillie jumped out from behind the chair in the corner when I made my move. I lifted the rolling pin I had grabbed from the counter over my head, ready to strike. Instead of the Garveys, though, I found three wide-eyed teenagers clinging to one another as they stared back at me.
“I didn’t do it,” Thistle automatically announced.
“Don’t kill us,” Clove said. “We’ll be good. I swear.”
Bay’s reaction was something else entirely. “I knew it! You’re investigating without me!”
“Oh, geez,” I grumbled, rubbing the back of my neck as
I lowered the rolling pin. “What are you doing down here? You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“We wanted a midnight snack,” Clove lied.
“What’s all over your faces?” I narrowed my eyes.
“That’s moisturizer,” Bay said, hurriedly rubbing her cheek and causing Tillie to snort.
“That’s Clearasil for the zit patrol,” Tillie corrected. “I warned you about that when I saw you last.”
I’d forgotten about that part of our conversation. I was pretty sure it was on purpose. I hadn’t forgotten about the other part of our talk, though. “I thought you said they were locked in their room.”
“Hey, that’s right,” Tillie said, wrinkling her nose. “How did you get out of that room?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clove replied, averting her eyes. “We just walked out.”
“Liar.”
“I am not a liar,” Clove sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s a horrible thing to say to your own flesh and blood.”
“You’re not even a good liar,” Tillie said, shifting her eyes to Bay. “How did you get out?”
“We opened the door and walked out,” Bay said, meeting Tillie’s gaze without flinching. “It wasn’t hard at all.”
“Yeah,” Thistle said. “Maybe you’re slipping in your old age.”
“The only thing that’s slipping is my foot and it’s going to slip right into your … .”
I held up my hands to cut her off. “Okay, everyone has had their fun,” I said. “You three need to go back up to your bedroom right now. I’m not messing around.”
“No.” Bay’s answer took me by surprise. I expected tears, maybe a little foot stomping to get her point across, but I also thought she would capitulate quickly. That didn’t appear to be the case.
“You have to go upstairs,” I argued. “You can’t be down here.”
“You can’t make me go upstairs,” Bay shot back. “We’re partners. You said so yourself.”
I glanced at Tillie for help.
“Don’t look at me,” Tillie said dryly. “I warned you this would happen if you played both sides of the fence. You can’t say no to her, and she knows it. You agreed to this, now you’re stuck with the follow-through.”
I was incredulous. “You can’t be serious,” I complained. “They’re children. We have no idea what we’ll be up against if the Garveys come down here. Of course, they probably heard the argument and high-tailed it back to their bedroom. We’ve probably already lost our shot.”
“We haven’t,” Thistle said. “Er, well, I don’t think we have just yet.”
I knit my eyebrows, suspicious. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t tell him,” Bay said.
“Yes, tell me.”
Bay shook her head and gripped Thistle’s arm, squeezing as hard as she could to get her point across. Thistle stared right back, seemingly oblivious to the pain. Finally she couldn’t take it for another second, though, and jerked her arm away.
“That hurt, Bay!” Thistle slapped her cousin’s arm for good measure.
“Ow!”
“I’m going to ow both of your butts if you’re not careful,” Tillie warned. “Lower your voices. We’re on a mission. What have I told you about missions?”
“That it’s every witch for herself if the cops come and you’re not going to bail us out,” Clove answered, not missing a beat. “You don’t care if we cry, but if we narc on you we’ll never have jeans that fit again.”
“You’re such a kvetch,” Tillie muttered. “No. In missions we are silent but deadly.”
“Like a fart,” Thistle said, giggling at her own joke. Truth be told, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing myself.
“Listen, fresh mouth, I often find you funny,” Tillie said. “Now is not one of those times.”
“You girls need to go back to your room and behave yourselves,” I snapped. “I’m the boss here. That’s an order.”
The three girls – and Tillie, for that matter – snorted in unison.
“That’s not going to work,” Tillie said.
I couldn’t take much more of this. Seriously. How much is one man supposed to put up with? “What will it take to make you go up to your room?”
“You can’t make us go up to our room,” Bay replied, causing my stomach to twist. “We, on the other hand, can help you.”
“Oh, yeah? And how is that?”
“Well, we know something you don’t know.”
“What?” I gritted out, fighting desperately to contain my temper. The last thing I wanted was to yell and frighten her. She wasn’t giving me a lot of options, though.
“The Garveys snuck out the side door and headed toward the garden shed,” Clove supplied, earning a loud slap from Thistle.
“You moron! That was our leverage.”
“You said we were going to tell them,” Clove argued.
“After he agreed to take us, dummy,” Thistle shot back.
“Wait … the Garveys are already moving?”
Bay nodded. “They left about five minutes ago.”
“Holy crap!”
I WANTED to put up an argument about the girls going with us, but I didn’t have the time, and Tillie refused to put her foot down and make them obey my orders. We were totally talking about that later, by the way. So, against my better judgment, I walked out the back door of the inn with one senior citizen at my side and three teenagers with Clearasil all over their faces serving as my backup. Yeah. It wasn’t one of my finer moments.
As we approached the tool shed, the back porch lamp offered limited light. I could see the metal door was open. I could hear someone rummaging around inside and hush-hush voices echoing against the thin walls. That meant the Garveys were in there together. That was good news.
“You guys stay here,” I whispered.
Bay grabbed my arm and shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. You need me.”
Her earnest expression caused my heart to roll. “I think I’ll be okay. You stay here with your aunt.”
Bay opened her mouth to argue but I clamped my hand over it to silence her.
“Promise me you’ll stay safe,” I ordered. “Stay with your aunt.”
Bay mutely nodded, her eyes conflicted. I left her with Tillie, exchanging a curt nod with the curmudgeonly matriarch, and closed the distance to the shed. I waited until I was positioned in front of the open door to flick on the flashlight I grabbed before leaving the kitchen.
“Boo.”
Charles and Caroline were so startled they dropped the clay pot they were holding and held their hands in the air.
“We surrender.”
I stilled, surprised. I wasn’t holding a gun but these two were nervous wrecks. They hardly fit the profile of criminal masterminds. “You surrender?”
Caroline bobbed her head. “We’re sorry and we won’t do it again.”
“You’re supposed to say you didn’t do it and ask for a lawyer,” Thistle called out helpfully from behind me. I growled as I forced myself to ignore her.
“What are you looking for?” I asked, keeping my expression neutral. “If it’s money for your little land deal, I’m pretty sure the Winchesters don’t keep it in a gardening pot.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Tillie clarified. “I make quite a bit from my wine business and I stash it all over the place. In fact, half the time I forget where I stash it. That’s why these imps were so eager to clean this place the other day. Other than hiding my wine out here, they thought there was a possibility they would stumble upon money. I collected it before they could, though.”
“Great,” I growled. “That was really important to this conversation. I’m so glad you enlightened me.”
“What is going on here?” Bay asked.
“That’s a very good question,” I said. “Who wants to answer it?”
Clove’s hand shot up in the air.
“Not you, sw
eetie,” I said, shaking my head. “I was talking to Charles and Caroline.”
“Oh, well, we heard there might be some pot out here and we came to see if we could find it,” Charles offered. “My brother doesn’t allow drugs in his house – and he’s a real downer most of the time – but we thought a joint would be nice for the road.”
I stilled, confused. “I … what?”
“Who told you about my pot?” Tillie asked, irritated.
“What pot?”
“Never you mind,” Tillie replied. “It’s none of your concern. I see someone has loose lips, though.”
“Don’t look at me,” Thistle said. “If we told Chief Terry about the pot he’d burn the field and then we wouldn’t be able to steal it.”
“You’re grounded,” I snapped, extending a finger.
“Oh, geez,” Thistle muttered, shaking her head. “This night bites.”
She wasn’t wrong. I was about to suggest everyone return to the inn and get out of the cold to finish the discussion where it was warmer when a twig snapped behind the girls. Two more figures joined the scrum, and for some reason an overwhelming sense of dread washed over me when they appeared.
“I’m afraid it’s going to get worse.”
I couldn’t see our new guests, but the glint of the moonlight off the barrel of the gun the man held was unmistakable.
What now?
Ten
“What’s going on?” I tried to keep my voice neutral but the fact that a man I couldn’t identify was holding a gun and standing behind Tillie, Bay, Clove and Thistle was enough to make my head explode. I had to remain calm. I knew that. But if something happened to one of them … .
“I was just about to ask you the very same question,” the man said.
“Why don’t you step a little closer so I can see who I’m dealing with and we’ll talk about it?” I suggested.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“It’s Mr. and Mrs. Hillman,” Bay offered, her voice squeaky. “They have a gun.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I said, swallowing hard as I gestured for her to head in my direction. “Bay, why don’t you and your cousins come this way?”
Happy Witchgiving: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Page 8
