“You don’t know that.”
“I know that she’s not going to play a convincing murder victim. She’s not going to be able to just lie there and be quiet. We all know that.”
My mom considered my statement seriously. “You’re probably right.”
“I’ll do it,” Twila suddenly volunteered.
Marnie groaned. Twila always did fancy herself a big screen actress stuck in a small town. Actually, I thought it was a pretty good idea. So did my mom. “Okay,” she agreed. “After you die, though, you’re going to have remain in the kitchen and the residence until after the mystery is solved.”
“No problem,” Twila said enthusiastically.
Thistle and I exchanged unconvinced looks. Twila wasn’t exactly known for being under the radar.
The look wasn’t lost on Twila. “Don’t you two start your looks. I will be the best dead person in the history of Hemlock Cove.”
Thistle opened her mouth to say something sarcastic but I kicked her in the shin. “You can let some of them go, you know?’
Thistle rubbed her shin ruefully. “I’ll try. She’s not going to make it easy, though.”
One look at Twila practicing dead stares from the floor told me that Thistle was probably right.
Six
The next morning came far too soon – especially when the first thought that entered my mind was the fact that I would have my first full day of work with Brian Kelly and his massive ego ahead of me. Ugh.
I contemplated pulling the covers back over my head and hiding from the day, but after three minutes of trying to settle back into sleep I knew that wasn’t going to be possible. I really had to go to the bathroom.
With a dramatic sigh – it’s genetic – I climbed out of bed and made my way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Thistle was sitting at one of the stools having her morning cup of coffee. She looked as cranky as I felt.
“Morning,” I mumbled.
“Morning.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee and slid onto the stool next to Thistle. Her short-cropped purple hair was standing on end. I thought about making fun of it, but I doubted my shoulder-length blonde hair looked any better so I let it slide. “What are you doing today?” I asked finally.
“Work,” she grunted.
“And after work?”
“What do you mean?” Thistle was being purposely evasive. I knew that meant she was hiding something. If I had to guess, that something had longish blond hair and a ridiculously hot body.
“So, you’re going out with Marcus tonight?”
“How did you know that?”
“I guessed. I saw you two talking at the door last night. It wasn’t exactly a stellar first date – what with our family, well, existing. I figured you’d want to get an actual first date out of the way before he realized what kind of gene pool we sprung from.”
Thistle barked out a laugh. “Isn’t that the truth?”
“So, what are you guys doing?”
“It’s Hemlock Cove,” Thistle shrugged. “There isn’t a lot to do.”
“So, you’re going to the kickoff bonfire party for the murder mystery?”
“Pretty much.”
Thistle sipped her coffee and then turned to me. “Is this your first day of real work with Brian?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What do you mean? I’m going to shower and go to work.”
“About Brian? You’re going to have to put your foot down with him. He’s too gung-ho.”
“I think he’ll figure out pretty quickly that he’s not going to get what he wants from Hemlock Cove. It’s not like we’re suddenly going to have a huge crime problem or something,” I replied.
Thistle looked doubtful but held her tongue. She had her own day to worry about.
When I got to work, I wasn’t surprised that Brian was already at the newspaper – or at least his car was in the parking lot. I dropped my laptop in my office and went to find him in his grandfather’s office. He was pulling down portraits and stacking them against a wall.
“What are you doing?”
Brian jumped when he heard my voice. He swung around and seemed relieved to find me standing in the doorway. “Sorry. You scared me. I was just taking these portraits down. They’re not really my style.”
“You seem jumpy,” I pointed out.
“It’s just that . . . I thought I heard something awhile ago. Like someone else was in the office. When I went to look, though, I was alone. It’s like there’s ghosts here or something,” he said with a hollow laugh.
I glanced over at the leather wingback chair positioned against the far wall. William was sitting in it with his arms crossed obstinately across his chest. I had a feeling that he had been voicing his distaste with his grandson’s redecorating efforts pretty vocally. I was impressed that Brian managed to pick up on that, though. Most “normal” humans had no idea that another plane of existence even existed, let alone that we were intermingling.
“Are you sure you want to make big decisions right now? About redecorating, I mean?”
Brian looked confused. “Why not? It’s my office now. It’s not like my grandfather would care that I changed his office around. It’s not like he can see it or anything.”
“Ungrateful little cur,” William growled from the corner.
I ignored William, which wasn’t easy because his frustration was almost comical, but I didn’t want Brian to think I was crazy.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your redecorating,” I said blithely. “I’m going to go get some work done.”
“What’s this week’s edition going to be?” Brian asked the question, but he never took his attention away from his current task. I had never seen anyone so obsessed with office redecoration before.
“The murder mystery, obviously.”
Brian nodded distractedly. “Good. Keep me posted.”
I left the office feeling like I had been dismissed more than anything else. When I got back into my office, I found Edith waiting for me. “William is very upset,” she announced.
“I saw him.”
I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop. Past experience had taught me that Edith was just getting started, and there was no way to stop her when she got a full head of steam.
“I can’t imagine having such an ungrateful heir.”
From what I knew about Edith, she had been something of a loner. When she died, she hadn’t left any survivors but some distant cousins. It didn’t’ surprise me that she didn’t get the nuance of family.
“I think Brian is just trying to prove he belongs here,” I explained. I had no idea if that was actually the truth, though. I was still getting a weird vibe from him I couldn’t exactly give a name to.
“You don’t prove you belong someplace by destroying everything that was already there,” Edith said pragmatically.
She had a point.
“Besides, William came back to this place for a reason, because he felt drawn to it. He’s not going to even recognize it when that idiot is done tearing it apart,” Edith sniffed.
I looked at Edith probingly. “Why is William here?”
Edith furrowed her brow. “You mean, why is he at the paper? Or why is he a ghost?”
“Both.”
“You’ll have to ask him,” she said evasively.
“Ask him what?” I almost yelped in surprise when William popped through the closed door and entered the room.
“Bay wants to know why you’re here,” Edith said simply.
“Here at the paper? It was my business and I loved it,” William answered.
I decided to ask the question I’d been avoiding since William had popped back up at the paper more than a week ago. “But why are you a here? Why are you a ghost?”
William shrugged. “I don’t know. I went to bed one night. When I woke up, I got out of bed to get ready for my day and then I realized that I may have gotten out of bed but
my body was still there.”
I chose my next words carefully. “William, most people don’t become ghosts when they die.”
“They don’t? Why not?”
“Most people just move on,” I explained. “They know they don’t have anything left to accomplish on Earth so they move on to what is beyond Earth.”
“To Heaven?”
“I don’t know. I guess.” I had never really taken the time to ponder the next life. Just thinking about it gave me a headache.
“So, why didn’t I move on?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Why didn’t you move on?” William turned to Edith.
“Because I still don’t know who killed me,” Edith supplied.
“You were killed?” William’s eyebrows nearly shot off of his forehead.
“Weren’t you?” I asked him.
“I don’t know. I thought I just died in my sleep. Didn’t the coroner say it was a heart attack?”
“Actually, I don’t think the coroner did a full autopsy,” I admitted.
“Why not?”
“You were ninety, William,” I pointed out. “There were no signs of foul play. I think everyone just assumed you . . . just died of old age.”
“I’ll have you know, I was in great shape,” William said petulantly.
“I’m sure you were.”
“At my last doctor’s visit, my doctor told me I had the body of a man twenty years younger.”
“So you don’t know how you died?”
“No.”
“Do you think you were murdered?”
William considered the question seriously. “I don’t think so,” he said finally. “Who would want to kill me?”
“You had a lot of money,” Edith pointed out. “Maybe Brian wanted his inheritance now, instead of later?”
I watched William to gauge his reaction. He shook his head. “I had money, especially for Hemlock Cove, but I wasn’t rich. Plus, Brian had no idea I was leaving him the paper.”
“Who did he think was going to get it?”
“I don’t know,” William shrugged. “But it’s not like the paper is a money machine. It makes money, but not enough to kill over.”
I had seen the books. I knew William was telling the truth. The profits from the paper led to a comfortable living – in Hemlock Cove – but not enough to make someone rich.
“Sometimes people become ghosts because they have unfinished business,” I said pointedly. “Is there something that maybe you felt like you hadn’t finished?”
William’s eyes shifted to the left as he shook his head. “No, absolutely not.” With those words, William stalked back out of the office through the wall. You didn’t have to be a good judge of character to know that he was lying.
Even Edith, who was oblivious to just about everything that didn’t concern her, noticed the sudden shift in William’s attitude. “He’s hiding something.”
He most definitely was.
Seven
After a couple of hours of work, I decided to break for lunch. I could still hear Brian busily moving furniture in the far office. I debated inviting him to lunch out of sheer courtesy, but I decided against it. I didn’t want to spend time with him when I didn’t have to.
The town was abuzz with energy as I made my way to Hypnotic. Everyone was out decorating the storefronts and streets, and preparing the central square for tonight’s bonfire and kickoff party.
Hemlock Cove is always interesting, but when the town is planning a party things are even more entertaining. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as I saw Mrs. Little bossing around several other business owners from her position in the middle of everything.
“That doesn’t go there, Trent,” she barked at a teenage boy. I think he was the grandson of the local hardware shop owner, Mr. Wharton. “Do I have to do everything myself?”
When I got to Hypnotic, I found Thistle and Clove busy with their own reorganization project – and a verbal spat.
“I didn’t say they were ugly,” Clove argued, waving at me as I entered. “I said I thought they were garish. There’s a difference.”
“You say garish but you mean butt ugly,” Thistle argued.
“I did not say that. I just think they’re creepy.”
“What are we talking about?” I asked, throwing myself onto the couch to watch them work.
“Clove says my new candles are ugly,” Thistle said angrily.
“I didn’t say they were ugly!” Clove was clearly at the end of her rope.
“Where are the candles?”
“In the box on the counter,” Clove said.
I wandered over and looked in the box. Recently, Thistle had been experimenting with different types of candles. Clove had balked at the simple skulls Thistle had been manufacturing over the past two weeks. Thistle was apparently getting more creative with the skulls – if the candles in the box were any indication.
I pulled one of them out and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It was still a skull, but Thistle has fashioned ornate knives jutting out from them. The wicks of the candles were at the hilt of the knives. She had also colored what appeared to be blood at the base of the knives.
“Awful, aren’t they?” Clove asked.
Actually, I thought they were kind of cool. “I bet they’re big sellers for the murder mystery weekend.”
“Which is exactly why I made them,” Thistle said haughtily.
“You made them to irritate me,” Clove countered.
“That was just an added side benefit,” Thistle said snidely.
I put the candle back in the box and went back to the couch. “You guys want to order lunch?”
“We saw you coming down the street and already ordered sandwiches,” Clove said. “It should be here in twenty minutes.”
“Cool.”
Thistle looked up from the herbs she was bagging and regarded me. “How was your first day with Brian?”
“I barely saw him,” I admitted. “He’s renovating William’s office.”
“That was quick,” Clove said.
“Tell me about it. William is pissed.”
“He’s still hanging around?” Thistle asked. “Have you asked him why?”
Thistle and Clove didn’t have the same gift I did. They couldn’t see ghosts. We had found out recently that if I was in close proximity with them they could actually hear ghosts – but neither of them was exactly pleased with that discovery. Thankfully, William hadn’t made his way down to Hypnotic yet. He had been a beloved member of the community in life. Unfortunately, he was sometimes the dirty old uncle people try to hide at family reunions. Let’s just say he had wandering hands.
“I asked him today,” I admitted.
“What did he say?” Clove asked curiously.
“He doesn’t think he was murdered.”
“Wouldn’t he know?”
“Not necessarily. He says he went to sleep and just didn’t wake up.”
“And Chief Terry didn’t order an autopsy?” Thistle asked dubiously.
“Why would he? William was ninety and there were no signs of a struggle or anything,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, I can see why he wouldn’t waste the time or money,” Thistle grudgingly admitted.
“Something else weird happened, though,” I said.
“What?”
“I asked him if maybe he had unfinished business and that was what was keeping him here and he kind of ran from the office.”
“He ran? Can ghosts run?” Clove looked intrigued.
“Well, he didn’t exactly run, but he floated really quickly.”
“Did he say anything?” Thistle looked puzzled.
“He said he didn’t have any unfinished business, but even Edith could tell he was lying.”
Thistle thought about it a minute. “I bet he’s just protecting Brian.”
“You just don’t like Brian,” I interjected.
“You don’t like him eithe
r,” she countered.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like him. I said I got a weird vibe off him.”
“That’s the same as saying you don’t like him,” Thistle argued.
“I think he’s nice,” Clove offered.
“You think he’s hot,” Thistle shot back. “There’s a difference.”
“I don’t think he’s hot,” Clove countered, but her face was reddening under Thistle’s increased scrutiny.
“Whatever.”
“I don’t!”
“Okay, you don’t,” Thistle said, rolling her eyes in my direction.
“I don’t!”
Thistle and I turned our attention away from Clove and back to the store. “Will you guys be done by tonight?” There were still five boxes sitting on the counter waiting to be unpacked.
“We’ll be fine,” Thistle said. “Once Clove stops thinking about Brian and focuses on her work, that is.”
“You’re dead to me,” Clove grumbled as she returned to the decorations she was sorting.
Thistle and I exchanged knowing looks. Clove had a crush. Of course, the fact that she had a crush on my new boss was a little irritating, but if things worked out I might be able to work that to my advantage eventually.
What? I was thinking about her well-being. No. I really was.
Eight
After work, I went home long enough to change my clothes and get a notebook so I could cover tonight’s bonfire event. It wasn’t exactly like it was going to be difficult, but I wanted to make sure we had a good package for Brian’s first edition in charge.
When I got home, I found that our living room had been transformed into big pile of clothes. I figured Clove was underneath some of them, because I could see them moving when I entered the room.
“What’s going on?”
Clove looked up from the pile of clothes and regarded me with a stunned look. “It’s Thistle. I think she’s lost her mind.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just watch.”
I sat on the edge of the armchair and waited for whatever travesty Clove had been witnessing. I didn’t have to wait long. Thistle flounced out of her bedroom in her bra and underwear and pointed a finger at me accusingly. “I have nothing to wear. I need to go through your closet.”
Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery) Page 4
