Witch Some Win Some (Witch of Mintwood Book 2)

by Addison Creek

  I quickly figured out that this man was a security guard from another era. He confirmed it when he introduced himself as Daniel, the security guard from a long time ago.

  “What do you think you’re doing here?” Daniel demanded. “It looks like you’re trying to break in.”

  The three of us exchanged glances. “I was actually looking for some information. I wasn’t sure how to get it, so I came here.” It was better to avoid addressing break-in accusations directly.

  “You came here and tried to break in,” said Daniel again.

  Well, if he was going to repeat himself . . .

  “The window was unlocked.” I couldn’t believe I was using that argument.

  “So you think you can just waltz in and look at whatever you want?” he said.

  “There is definitely no waltzing involved, and I only wanted to look at one piece of paper,” I said.

  The ghost of Daniel gave a gusty sigh. “You tell me what you want to know and I’ll go find it,” he said. “Can’t have you breaking in now, can I? What sort of security guard would I be if I let that happen?”

  The kind that gives thieves the information they’re looking for without their having to break in to get it, I thought.

  “I don’t like it,” said Charlie.

  “It’s that or I call the police,” said Daniel. “Just because I’m a ghost doesn’t mean I couldn’t get them here in a jiffy!”

  “I like it just fine,” said Greer.

  Daniel snorted and nodded. I told him we were looking for a piece of paper from twenty-five years ago that had some financial information on it, specifically a record of some money that was lost and then returned. I wanted to know the name that went with that sum of money.

  Daniel scratched his head. “You can’t do something easy?”

  “What would be easy?” Greer asked.

  “You know, registration numbers, stuff like that. You could have your car registered for free,” he said.

  “If only we lived in Caedmon,” said Charlie.

  “Who is that?” said Daniel, eyeing Paws, who was standing on my feet.

  I saw the security guard’s hand twitch to his gun. Add him to the list of people and ghosts who didn’t like cats.

  I introduced the two ghosts, and Daniel looked fascinated. “The only animal ghosts I’ve seen are rats. You’re quite similar.”

  Paws stared hard at the ghost, but stopped when he caught my glare.

  “Right, sounds delightful. I’m going with you,” said Paws, and he dashed past Daniel, through the open window, and into the town hall.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Daniel, rolling his eyes and muttering something about how cats were just as annoying as he’d feared.

  We didn’t have to wait long, although it felt like a long time while we were doing it. Periodically we could hear yelling from inside – “Come back here you animal. I’ll get you in the end” – that sort of thing.

  “Are we ever going to see Paws again?” said Charlie.

  “We can only hope not,” said Greer.

  As we waited, I started to become really nervous that we were going to get caught by someone who wasn’t a ghost. What if the local police drove by to check on the place? What if somebody else happened to drive past? They’d see our car and they’d know we’d been here.

  We had to be on our way as soon as possible.

  It was a warm night for the time of year, at least warmer than it been recently. Unfortunately, the next day Liam was going to lose the window competition, and all the warmth in the world wouldn’t cheer him up after that.

  Daniel soon reappeared in the window. This time he didn’t come out, but he waited until Paws had moved safely past him before addressing us. “After much difficulty,” he said, his eyes skidding to the cat, “I have found the information you’re after. The name on the money deposits is Kayla Caldwell. I think they’re on the up and up, though, because the town manager at the time, her boss Mr. Buxton, confirmed them.”

  When we got back to the farmhouse, Greer, Charlie, and I went our separate ways. Charlie had a story to write and Greer was tired. She had bartended the night before and gone town hall burglarizing with me tonight, and now she needed to relax. As for me, I headed for bed.

  I had just clicked off my light when a new thought came to me. I sat bolt upright in bed, then flung my covers off and ran downstairs. To my surprise, Greer was sitting by the embers of the fire reading, and I could hear Charlie banging in her room as she unpacked yet more boxes.

  “I was the first one to go to bed again? Really? What happened to you being so tired?” I said.

  Greer shrugged. Charlie came out of the kitchen with her eyebrows raised, “What are you still doing up?”

  I threw my hands in the air. “You two are up, so why can’t I be?”

  “It’s a really good book. I’m at the climactic part,” said Greer. “Who needs sleep?”

  “You sleep until noon anyhow,” said Charlie. “I was working on my article.”

  “I just had an idea about how we could help Liam,” I said.

  Greer closed her book. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I had already been to the Stump house twice that day, so this time I left Vertigo inside barking. He wanted to join us and play, but I wasn’t there for amusement, we had a storefront competition to win. It might have been better to bring him with us on yet another dark jaunt through the woods, but I didn’t want him to get hurt if he ran away or Frances decided to keep being herself and act crazy.

  I needed to talk to Frances, and I needed her to help us. She was our last hope.

  Frances was in the same clearing we had left her in the day before. She was even still wailing. Her head snapped up when we entered the clearing, and she glared at us, “Have you found my trunks yet?”

  “We’re trying, but can you tell me what’s inside them?” I said.

  I had a feeling I already knew.

  Frances stared at me as if she’d never seen anything quite so stupid. I could only hope she was looking past me at a tree.

  “Give me one good reason why,” she said. Greer and Charlie both glanced at me nervously. They were clearly enjoying being able to see and hear the ghost, but still a little freaked out by it, as who wouldn’t be?

  Greer leaned over to me and said, “Can I jump in here?”

  “I need all the help I can get,” I muttered.

  “You’re from Mintwood, right?” Greer said to Frances. “So you’ve been around every year that they’ve had the annual celebrations?”

  “I don’t know why we need to celebrate the town every year. Every five or ten years would be better, then people wouldn’t get so stressed out so often,” said the woman, shaking her head.

  “Celebrations are fun,” said Charlie, emboldened by Greer’s having spoken.

  “Not when you lose competitions,” grumbled the woman.

  “Did you lose the competition?” I said.

  “Only the most important competition of my life,” said Frances. “They used to have a fashion show, so the women could see all the latest designs. I hear they have different ways of doing it now, but back then it was a big deal. It wasn’t just for Mintwood, either. People came from far and wide. I came in second to a woman from Burton,” she sniffed angrily. Clearly she still hadn’t gotten over it.

  “My designs were so much better! Everybody thought so. My dresses sold out every year and hers never did. What was all this talk about free form and creativity? Designs should be practical and beautiful. That’s what I always believed. I should’ve won.”

  “What happened after the competition?” I said.

  “After the competition I hid the trunks. I was so angry, I stopped designing. I put all of my prized possessions, my beautiful dresses, inside those trunks, and I stashed them where no one would ever find them. I left Mintwood. I swore I would never return, and I didn’t until after I died. After that, I wanted to be home. The onl
y trouble was that it was a long time later, and everything had changed.”

  My heart was beating rapidly, and I could see Greer and Charlie shifting with nerves. I felt sure this woman was Francesca Holly, the woman Liam had been searching for, or at least her dresses. She was the answer to Liam’s dreams, if only she could remember where she’d put the trunks.

  Frances had started to pace back and forth, her frustration growing as she talked about her loss. Her old hands twisted and she shook her head back and forth as if she was working herself up on purpose.

  I took a deep breath. “Is Frances short for Francesca? Are you Francesca Holly?”

  The old ghost’s whole demeanor changed. Her face cleared and some of the whipping wind slowed. “Yes. You’ve heard of me?”

  “I have,” I said. “Your work is supposed to be beautiful.”

  “Oh, it is,” she assured me.

  “Can you give me any idea where you left the trunks?” I said.

  Just as suddenly as she’d calmed down, her anger returned. “Why should I? What’s in it for me? You just want to take credit for my work.”

  “I promise you, that’s not the case at all,” I said.

  “Yes, it is! Everyone was jealous of my designs. What else could you possibly want the trunk for?” she yelled.

  Charlie stepped forward and cleared her throat, “If you were part of the celebrations every year, you knew about the ribbon-cutting ceremony?”

  “Yes, that was a lesser competition. Nobody really cared about it. The shops were already decorated, and nobody put much work into it. Although that could have been because the mayor only awarded the prize to his friends,” she said.

  “That’s not a very fair competition,” said Greer.

  “Life ain’t fair,” Frances shot at her.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” said Greer. “I’m standing out here in the woods in the middle of the night talking to nobody.”

  Frances drew herself up. “I’m not nobody.”

  “You lost the competition. You came in second. Without ever having won anything, I’m pretty sure you’re nobody,” said Greer.

  The wind picked up and the leaves gusted. Charlie and I exchanged very nervous glances. What was Greer doing?

  “I could win any competition you asked me to, even today. My dresses are timeless,” said Frances.

  “Okay, prove it. The ribbon-cutting ceremony is still a competition. Tomorrow, a panel decides who has the best window display. Our friend wants your dresses to be in the place of honor. He thinks that if he has your dresses, he’s sure to win. Without them he doesn’t have a chance,” said Greer.

  Francesca Holly raised her hand to her heart and said, “He wants my dresses?” Her voice had gone soft and dreamy.

  “He says it’s his only chance,” said Greer.

  “Well, that’s probably too true,” said Francesca Holly, coming back down to her earth, which was still very high above the rest of us. “I am the very best.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Greer hadn’t irrevocably offended the old ghost. She was going to tell us where her trunks were.

  We had just made it back to the car when I realized that something was deadly wrong. A dark figure was moving in front of us, a shape that I first thought must be a tall animal of some sort.

  But it was nothing of the kind.

  It was a small woman, and she was prowling around the Beetle.

  At first I didn’t see what she had in her hand, but then Charlie gasped.

  Mrs. Luke was holding a gun.

  Fear pounded in my temples, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

  The excitement of moments before ebbed into terror as Mrs. Luke spotted us, her eyes lighting up with a crazy glow.

  “How dare you come snooping around! You aren’t even from Caedmon,” she hissed. With the gun she motioned for the three of us to gather together.

  Charlie and Greer pressed closer to me and none of us took our eyes off the weapon.

  “So, it was you who killed Kayla?” I said.

  To my surprise, Mrs. Luke gave a gusty sigh. “I never hurt that girl. Not by accident and not any other way. I didn’t embezzle money, either. If you weren’t so foolish, maybe you’d have figured that out by now.”

  “But if it wasn’t you,” said Charlie, her voice steady despite the fact that I could see her hands shaking at her sides, “what are you doing here?” She didn’t add the threatening us bit, but it was implied.

  “I’m here to keep you three from meddling and printing articles! Can’t you leave well enough alone? For nearly twenty-five years everything was fine.”

  “Tell that to Mary Caldwell,” I said.

  “I told you I had nothing to do with what happened to Kayla,” said Mrs. Luke, pointing the gun at me.

  I flinched away, but there was really nowhere for me to go.

  Then, suddenly, just when I thought we were doomed, Mrs. Luke broke down sobbing. She dabbed at her eyes and cried out, “Mr. Buxton was destroyed! He cared so deeply about the town, but it all came to nothing. I couldn’t let his legacy be destroyed too.”

  “But you weren’t the one who ran her off the road?” I pressed.

  She shook her head, “No, but I’m sure it wasn’t Mr. Buxton, either. Not that we’ll ever know.”

  If only I knew where Mr. Buxton’s ghost was, I could ask him.

  Then the situation took another unexpected turn when a voice boomed out, “What’s all this?”

  And there, marching toward us, was Detective Cutter. Mrs. Luke appeared to have forgotten that she was holding a gun; she barely reacted to his approach.

  “Put the gun down,” ordered the detective in a tone of voice I had never heard before.

  “I’ve been following them for a while, you know, hoping they’ll come to their senses,” cried Mrs. Luke.

  “She’s been following us,” I said incredulously. How dense were we that we hadn’t noticed that?

  Seeing that the detective was losing patience, Mrs. Luke dropped the gun. “I just wanted them to listen to me!”

  “If you have to use a gun to get someone to listen to you, you’re doing it wrong,” the detective informed her. “You’re under arrest.”

  “How did you know we were here?” I said in wonder.

  Detective Cutter gave me a dirty look. “I didn’t know, but maybe I should have. Your grandmother always interfered with official police business too. We’ve been following Mrs. Luke for several days.”

  Some problem-solver I was! Mrs. Luke had been following us and I didn’t notice; Detective Cutter had been following her and I’d been equally oblivious to that. I was going to have to work on my detecting skills. Was there such a thing as Witch Detectives Are Us? Maybe they did summer programs.

  After he led the elderly woman away Charlie said, “If he was following Mrs. Luke, why did it take him so long to rescue us?”

  “Maybe he hoped she’d shoot Lemmi, so Lemmi would stop investigating,” said Greer.

  “Charming,” I said, “just charming.”

  “What do you think of what she said about Mr. Buxton?” said Greer.

  “I think he must have been the one who misplaced the money,” I said. “Kayla told him she’d found something strange and he panicked. If only he had known that she didn’t even care.”

  “Poor Kayla,” said Charlie, and Greer and I nodded.

  But satisfying though it might be, this was all speculation until I could find Mr. Buxton and get him to tell us his version of what had happened. As I thought about it, a realization struck me. Maybe I could indeed find Mr. Buxton. In fact, I might already know right where he was.

  Our work for that night still wasn’t over, although after we’d been held at gunpoint it should have been. But no, we still had to save Liam.

  Liam lived above his store. That was lucky, because I had remembered something relating to downtown that might help us help him. “Liam’s maps are of the downtown at its founding,” I said to my fri
ends as we drove away. “And do you know where Francesca Holly’s shop was?”

  “Where?” said Charlie.

  “Right where the Twinkle Costume shop is now,” I said. “There’s a store on one of Liam’s maps called ‘The Holly Shop,’ and it didn’t hit me until just this moment that it must have been Francesca’s. I had been thinking it was a Christmas-themed store. Anyhow, I bet the dresses have been there all along.”

  “That would also give Liam a claim to owning them, especially if she doesn’t have any descendants,” gasped Greer.

  Liam groggily let us in and listened to a quick explanation. He was bleary-eyed and confused, but he agreed to let us into the shop.

  “We need to get into your back room,” I said breathlessly.

  “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” he said. “It’s . . . the middle of the night.”

  “Trust us, if we’re right, you don’t want us to wait,” said Charlie. “Don’t ask me how, but we might just have gotten a tip that changes everything.”

  Liam looked skeptical for a few moments, but then his face cleared, his eyes flared open, and suddenly he looked wide awake. “Are you saying what I hope you’re saying?”

  “I think the dresses are somewhere in your shop,” I said. “Your shop was once Francesca Holly’s.”

  That news was plenty more than enough to convince Liam that looking under his floorboards was a good idea. We tapped in various places around the shop until we found a spot that wasn’t hollow-sounding like the rest. Liam fetched some tools and pried up one of the boards, and sure enough, we could see the corners of a couple of very old trunks. After that, Liam had the space opened up almost before I could take another breath.

  “My life is complete!” he cried. I had never seen him so happy. He forgot all about being tired and got to work. We helped him lift the trunks out of the hidden space under the floor, but after that he sent us away. “Not that I don’t trust you to handle the dresses properly, but I don’t trust you to handle the dresses properly,” he told us.