Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery)

by Lee, Amanda M.

  “I saw exactly what you saw.”

  Landon shook his head. “You know more than you’re saying.”

  I brushed his hand away and hurried to Aunt Tillie’s side. I was happy to see that her eyes had returned to normal. She didn’t seem at all shaken by the events of the past hour.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” she said dismissively. “I am ready for my nap, though.”

  

  The next week was intense – to say the least. The murder mystery had gone on as planned – and all the tourists seemed to have a good time. Twila’s death scene was a tour de force – or so I heard. I hadn’t actually gotten a chance to see it. Landon and Chief Terry were questioning me – the former having maintained a steadfast distance since Ken’s disappearance – while Twila was earning her Oscar in the town square.

  Chief Terry seemed concerned by Landon’s report of the day’s events, but he had also seemed disinterested in following up on the matter. I think Chief Terry had an inkling of what had happened, but he knew he couldn’t explain it so he was eager to bury it instead.

  The official story said that Ken had disappeared in the confusion of the moment – but I knew better. I think Landon knew better, too, but he didn’t want to admit it. He had been shaken when we left the clearing by the creek, but he had also been quiet. I didn’t take his silence as a good sign.

  After the dust had settled, I made up with Brian – or at least apologized for suspecting him of murder. He brushed off my apology, but I could tell his nose was still out of joint. I could only hope he didn’t take out the aggression he was obviously feeling on the paper – or me specifically. I still had no idea why he had been searching William’s office so relentlessly. I figured that was a mystery for another time, though.

  Marcus and Thistle were lost in their own little world, and he had graciously accepted my apology for thinking that he was killer – even though it was just for a few random minutes. He was now doing constant sleepovers. It was actually nice to have him around, though. He’d done a ton of home repairs in the past week. The guesthouse was looking better and better.

  A few days after Ken had disappeared, I had caught a glimpse of Myron and William’s ghosts walking through town together. They had looked happy, like they were catching up on old times. It was about time.

  Edith had told me that they had passed on together a few days after that. I guess William’s unfinished business had nothing to do with the money and everything to do with his son. When his autopsy came back, it turned out he had died of natural causes after all. At least Ken didn’t have William’s blood on his hands as well.

  Ellen was laid to rest next to her brother – with her maiden name and not her married name. I could only hope she had passed over a long time ago. I was sad to think of her wandering around Hemlock Cove for decades alone.

  Since it was Friday, and I had just sent the new edition to the paginator, I found myself walking up to the inn alone. Clove and Thistle were already there – at least that’s what the note at the guesthouse said – and they warned me that Aunt Tillie was on a rampage, so I shouldn’t be late. What else was new?

  When I climbed the hill that led to the backdoor of the inn, I was surprised to find Landon waiting for me on the back patio.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I knew you’d be coming up for family dinner,” he said simply. I couldn’t help but notice he kept a few feet of distance between us.

  “How did you know that?”

  “Clove told me when I stopped by Hypnotic today.”

  I watched Landon curiously. He looked uncomfortable. “I haven’t seen much of you over the past week – except when you had me hauled into the police department to answer questions during Twila’s big death scene.”

  “I’m sure that upset her.”

  “I’m still paying for it.” She’d made me weed her gardens. I hated gardening. I couldn’t be sure, but I think Aunt Tillie had enchanted it so the weeds regrew every day. I wasn’t exactly making any progress.

  “I needed some time to think,” Landon admitted.

  “About what?”

  “You. Your family.”

  “You probably need more than a week,” I said.

  “I need to know what happened to Ken.” There was a pleading tone to Landon’s words.

  “I don’t know what happened to Ken,” I said sharply. “I told you that. I saw what you saw.”

  “But you weren’t surprised.”

  “I was in shock,” I corrected him. “We were almost just struck by lightning. I was processing.”

  “But you weren’t surprised,” he repeated.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say?” I said helplessly.

  “I know you’re hiding something, Bay,” Landon replied. “You either can’t or won’t tell me, though.”

  “And what do you think I’m hiding?”

  “It has something to do with your family,” Landon said. “And it’s more than that pot field your aunts are hiding out in the woods.”

  “You know about that?”

  “I saw it the night I stumbled on your little ritual.”

  Ritual. That was an interesting – and apt – word.

  “Are you going to report them?”

  “No,” Landon sighed. “I don’t want to get on your Aunt Tillie’s bad side. I have a feeling that wouldn’t be in my best interests.”

  “Probably not.”

  I had remained a few feet away from Landon for the duration of our conversation – even though I had wanted to move closer to him. From this distance, I couldn’t feel his warmth. Even if I was closer, though, I had a feeling that the coldness emanating from him would envelope me instead of the warmth I sought.

  “I like you,” Landon said finally. “You’re funny. You’re weird. You’re ridiculously loyal. You’re also hiding something from me. I need you to trust me and tell me the truth.”

  I bit my lower lip. If I did tell him the truth, I ran the risk of scaring him away forever. He would also then know our secret. I didn’t know what he would do with it, but I couldn’t take the risk of telling him. It wasn’t just my secret, after all. I remained silent, even though I could feel my heart restricting in my chest.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “I don’t . . . I . . . I don’t have anything to tell you,” I said lamely. “I can’t give you what you’re looking for.”

  “I guess not,” Landon said glumly.

  We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence again. It didn’t last long.

  “I thought I heard voices.”

  I turned to see Aunt Tillie standing on the patio behind me. She was giving Landon one of her patented glares. Ever since the day at the Hollow Creek, she had stopped wearing her sunglasses. She said her allergy had been cured by the sudden storm.

  “Aunt Tillie,” Landon greeted her wanly.

  “Are you coming in for dinner?” She asked him pointedly.

  Clove and Thistle had wandered out to the patio after Aunt Tillie. They were watching the situation with great interest – and they were listening for the answer as well.

  “Not tonight,” Landon said, forcing a smile in my direction. “Maybe some other night. I’ve got some things to think about. I’ve got some things to do.”

  “Well, you should go do your important things then,” Aunt Tillie said crisply. “We don’t want anyone here that doesn’t want to be here.”

  Landon met Aunt Tillie’s heavy gaze. “I’m going.”

  Aunt Tillie took a step towards him, never letting her gaze waver from his face. “And remember, we may forgive, but we never forget.”

  Aunt Tillie grabbed my hand and started pulling me away from Landon. I let her pull me, not looking back at Landon despite the lump in my throat. “When have you ever forgiven someone?”

  “Stranger things have happened,” she said soothingly. “Don’t worry, dear. He’ll be back. He’s
a man. They have to figure things out on their own. And, since he’s a man, it will take him twice as long as it would take a woman.”

  I could only hope she was right. Despite myself, I missed him already. “How can you be sure?”

  “If he’s not, I’ll just curse him until he wishes he made the right decision from the beginning,” she said simply. “They always come back, dear. We’re like a fine wine. We’re addictive – and he’s already addicted. He won’t know until he starts to go through withdrawal, though. It won’t take long.”

  “I hope it hurts,” Thistle said grimly.

  “It will,” Aunt Tillie promised. “You can be sure of that.”

  Author’s Note

  I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels – and to Heidi Bitsoli for being my proofreader and sounding board.

  If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. I understand that my characters aren’t for everyone. These are not bright and shiny people – and they swear a lot.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.