Witch Way Round (Witch of Mintwood Book 6)

by Addison Creek

  She wore a beautiful floor-length dress the color of midnight. Her hair was in an elaborate updo that was now coming undone, the strands falling in long coils over her shoulder. Her makeup was streaked. Everyone stopped and stared.

  She didn’t look hurt, but she certainly looked upset.

  “There’s a body in the Lily Pond!” she cried. She put one perfectly manicured hand to her forehead. Then she collapsed in a heap.

  Dinner would definitely have to wait.

  Chapter Ten

  The uproar in the large ballroom was deafening, with everyone trying to go everywhere at once. It took us a long time to make our way outside to see what was going on, and by then there was a crowded ring of people around the Lily Pond that kept me from getting anywhere near it.

  The air was brisk and slightly cool, with a faint smell of the ocean. I had a feeling that inland it was muggy and uncomfortable, but not here in paradise.

  I heard a collective gasp waft through the scent of bursting spring flowers and the pungent perfumes and colognes of the crowd as a flood of concern flowed through the spectators.

  “There’s a body,” whispered someone.

  We were still too far away to see, but Greer’s family had come up beside us and they seemed positively concerned, quite a different look from their usual reserve. The second something went wrong, it seemed, they closed ranks and stood close together. In the same moment both Hansen and Charlie started forward, their investigative instincts taking over.

  “What did they say?” Mrs. Dice addressed me directly.

  I relayed to her what the people closer to the pond were saying.

  “Of course there’s a body,” said Paws. “You thought you could get away from mysteries. Well, guess what?”

  Shocked, I looked at my feet. Sure enough the ghost cat was there, tangling with my shins. I wanted to ask him how he’d known there was trouble, but I couldn’t start talking to my ankles with so many people around. In response he looked up at my smugly.

  After pondering for a split second whether a ghost cat could be tossed into the water, I decided that I’d been entirely too complacent. Paws was right. I had thought I could leave Mintwood for the weekend and get away from the craziness of being a witch, but apparently the craziness was going to follow me wherever I went.

  And no, I’m not talking about Paws.

  “We need to get closer,” Charlie hissed. She was positively bouncing with journalistic inquisitiveness. “It’s hard to stand on tiptoes in heels.”

  “Wear flats,” said Greer. She was in a flouncy navy summer dress plus sandals with glittery straps, even though she had declined to get a pedicure. Her mother had looked literally pained at that decision, but Greer hadn’t budged. She wasn’t into frippery.

  None of us intended to be kept away from the Lily Pond for long. I for one wanted to see where the ghost was, and Charlie and Hansen never took off their reporter’s hats, even if sometimes they were invisible. Greer was just curious, and for the most part she went where we went.

  In no time at all the watching guests had divided into two groups: the sad and appalled; and the sad, appalled, and curious.

  “Think there’s a ghost?” Greer tried to whisper to me. Her mom turned her head as if trying to listen, but Greer was deliberately speaking too low for Mrs. Dice to hear.

  “Somewhere,” I said. “Knowing our luck, it’s probably not with the body.”

  We were trying to keep up with Hansen and Charlie, but they were moving fast, not like they were in competition to get the first look at the body or anything.

  When we finally did get close enough to see what had upset everyone so much, we found a male, fully clothed in a black jacket and slacks, floating face down. That is, we couldn’t see his face.

  As we stood and stared along with everyone else, I heard Goldie’s voice as she made her way through the whispering crowd.

  “Please move aside! My goodness, what is everyone looking at? I can’t believe your attention is so captivated!” Her voice was light and amused. She didn’t know yet what she was about to see. “Can someone please tell Mason what’s going on? He’ll be so excited that something has caught everyone’s interest! Where is he, anyway?” she called out to no one in particular.

  Someone must have explained the situation, because suddenly her sing-song voice cut out as if a plug had been pulled. The next instant she burst onto the scene, impeccably dressed for dinner, like everyone else in the crowd.

  Goldie got to where she had a clear view of the Lily Pond.

  Then she screamed.

  “I can’t believe Mason is dead,” said Greer. We were sitting in the large breakfast room, the high ceiling and beautiful big windows showing off the stars. The police had been called and the area around the pond cleared. Some guests had returned to their rooms, while a handful had gathered in the breakfast room to wait.

  “She knew immediately,” I said, thinking of Goldie when she saw the body.

  Greer’s parents had gone off with Goldie and tried to comfort her. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much comfort for her. She was desperately upset and kept saying she couldn’t believe it.

  Greer’s brothers had stayed with us. Devin and Derek were in their early thirties and already had successful careers. They lounged in their chairs, hair perfectly wavy and big white teeth flashing as they talked.

  “Charlie is really on this story,” said Derek.

  “Good. Mason was great. We’ve known him forever. What could have happened?” said Devin.

  We all looked to where Charlie was still standing, as near to the Lily Pond as she could get. She and Hansen had been pushed away from the edge of the water, but they were still close enough to observe the police activity now going on.

  “Something awful,” said Greer. “Poor Mason.”

  “Did he have any family?” I asked, thinking that the notification would need to happen as quickly as possible given that dozens if not hundreds of people already knew who had died.

  “No, this place was his life and the people who worked here were his family,” said Greer.

  I wasn’t sure how to ask the next question, but as Derek and Devin talked I didn’t have to.

  “He was universally liked here,” said Derek, remembering. “I can’t see any of the staff being angry enough to murder him.”

  The argument with Simon was uppermost in my mind. However well loved Mason was at the Club, the exchange with Simon showed that he didn’t always get along with people who came to work there on an occasional basis.

  Greer looked at me sidelong. Having heard about the argument from Charlie and me, she knew quite well what I was thinking.

  “Charlie will get to the bottom of it, won’t she?” asked Derek. “If the police don’t?”

  “Charlie doesn’t rest until a case is solved,” I said. “She’ll find out what happened.”

  Probably with the help of ghosts, I chose not to say out loud.

  “We should go check on Mom,” said Derek. “If you hear anything, let us know.”

  The twins said their goodbyes and went in search of their parents, while Greer and I continued to wait for Charlie to finish grilling anyone who came within ten feet of her.

  “What’d I miss?” said Paws, popping up on the table. Just as before, he was nicely dressed in his very own double-breasted suit. Given that I had never seen it before, I was a little worried that he’d stolen it.

  “Where’d you get that?” I asked.

  “A thrift store,” said Paws.

  He had painted a gold streak down his tail. Don’t ask me why.

  “It still has the tags in,” said Greer, pointing beneath one of the sleeves.

  “Ah, so it does. Mighty nice of them to take something to a thrift store that was brand new,” said Paws.

  Greer rolled her eyes.

  “There’s a body in the Lily Pond,” I said.

  “I heard,” said Paws. When he noted our surprise he rolled his eyes. “Word
travels fast in the ghost world, too.”

  “Who could possibly have waited to kill him?” I wondered. If Mason was universally liked, what could have driven someone to murder him?

  “You’ll just have to find out,” said Paws.

  “Do they know where the ghost is?” I asked sharply.

  “Of course they do,” said Paws.

  He looked utterly confused when Greer and I gave cries of annoyance.

  “I would have told you if you’d asked,” Paws muttered.

  “Where’s the ghost of Mr. Mason Haroldson?” I demanded.

  “In his office,” said Paws. “He doesn’t know he’s dead yet.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Who had killed the resort manager?

  The police were still busy at the scene of the crime, but they’d kept Charlie and Hansen back near the windows. Tired of waiting at last, Greer and I made our way out to Charlie, but we were too far away from the pond to see what the police were doing.

  Charlie and Hansen couldn’t get a good look either, but not for lack of trying. As we approached them they appeared to be arguing.

  Big flood lights had been set up around the pond, but the only light on Charlie and her competition was the soft glow from the breakfast room.

  “If you’d just distract them I could get closer,” Charlie was saying. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she’d put her blond hair up in a ponytail, a sure sign that she was annoyed.

  Neither of the reporters noticed when we strolled up to them.

  “Then again,” said Hansen, “if you’d distract them, I’d get closer. Is it that you don’t trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you,” said Charlie. “I just don’t trust you enough to do the job.”

  “I don’t think that’s really trust.”

  “Excuse me, Charlie, can we talk?” I asked.

  I smiled at Hansen and hoped I sounded casual.

  Charlie turned and gave me a look that said she wasn’t all that happy to see me. “I’m kind of busy at the moment,” she said.

  “I know, but this is important,” I said.

  Insisting, I drew Charlie further away than she wanted to be from the scene of the action, back toward the windows of the breakfast room. She kept looking over her shoulder to make sure Hansen Gregory wasn’t doing his job, but Greer helped me keep herding her away.

  “What is it?” Charlie asked impatiently. “If I’m not careful the police are going to make a statement and I’m going to miss it!”

  “We found his ghost,” I explained.

  At that news my reporter friend’s eyes lit up.

  “I guess I could spare a few minutes,” she said.

  “I thought so,” I murmured.

  “Where we going?” she asked.

  “To his office,” I said.

  “I should’ve thought to check there,” Charlie sighed.

  “You’ve been busy,” I pointed out.

  Charlie took one last glance at Hansen as we walked away. He was looking confused at our departure, but he stayed where the police had told him to. Charlie appeared heartened by the fact that he hadn’t gotten any closer to the pond. “Maybe he’ll still be there when I get back,” she said hopefully.

  With Charlie walking behind me where she couldn’t see, I felt free to roll my eyes. Greer just shook her head.

  Mason Haroldson’s office was situated so as to have a beautiful view of the Lily Pond. I took a mental note of that fact in case it turned out to be important later.

  One of the first questions I was already asking myself was what he’d been doing at the pond to begin with. Had he been out there already and someone confronted him? Or had he seen someone he didn’t like—Simon, for instance—and gone to confront him?

  These were among the many questions I wanted answers to. And since Paws had told us where to find the victim’s ghost, I figured it shouldn’t be that hard to get them.

  “Isn’t it strange to be walking around such a fancy Country Club in the middle of the night?” Charlie asked.

  “I’ve seen stranger things, though only in Mintwood,” said Greer.

  “One thing that’s really strange is that we’re all in such fancy clothing,” I said, looking down and plucking at the frill on my grandmother’s dress.

  My hair had never been so soft nor my dress so lovely. Nor did I ever carry a handbag in real life. I felt certain that even on my wedding day my hair would be friskier than it was at this moment. I had a fleeting moment of gratitude that we’d had at least some of the evening to enjoy the spectacle, both of ourselves and of the Club, before something awful happened. But I quickly pushed the thought away. A man was dead; to be thinking of silver linings seemed rude.

  Greer raised her hand to knock on the office door but stopped in mid-gesture when she saw my expression. “What?” she asked.

  “He’s a ghost. You don’t need to knock,” I said.

  “What if he doesn’t want me to come in?” said Greer, clearly worried about being rude.

  “He probably also didn’t want to be murdered,” I pointed out.

  “If he hears someone knocking, he’ll know it won’t be for him,” said Charlie.

  Greer and I exchanged looks.

  “You didn’t tell her?” Greer asked.

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I said defensively.

  “Didn’t tell me what? I hope it’s something I can put in a report.” Charlie asked.

  “I don’t think so,” said Greer.

  “Paws says he doesn’t know he’s dead yet,” I said reluctantly.

  “Your cat doesn’t know he’s a ghost yet? He’s been that way for a long time. There’s really no excuse,” Charlie said, looking incredulous.

  I shook my head, realizing the confusion. “No, it’s Mason who doesn’t know he’s dead.”

  Charlie’s jaw dropped. Without another word she turned the door handle and walked in.

  “That’s one way to do it,” said Greer, shrugging.

  Mason’s office struck a perfect balance between elegant spaciousness and gaudy, over-the-top showiness. He was there to run the Country Club, he wasn’t—technically, at least—a member.

  A gentle glow from a lamp illuminated the large table, which was perfectly organized, just as I had expected. Sitting behind it was Mason Haroldson.

  He was most definitely a ghost.

  When we burst in he glanced up from the stack of papers he was looking at. “Yes? What can I do for you? It’s rather late. You really should knock.”

  Greer made an I Told You So face.

  The three of us stepped carefully into the room. Given Paws’ information, which we seemed to be confirming, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. But while I was hesitating, I saw something streak past my feet.

  In came the cat himself.

  “I was hoping you’d stay away,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Why, am I not good in delicate situations?” Paws asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that finesse was one of your strong suits, no,” said Greer.

  “Who are you talking to?” Mr. Haroldson asked. Evidently he couldn’t see Paws.

  “Can’t you see?” asked the cat.

  “No, I doubt it, he’s already used a lot of his strength just to come here,” I pointed out.

  “I don’t think he can pick up those papers, either,” said Paws.

  If a ghost tried really hard, he or she could move real-life objects, but it took a major effort.

  “He’s too new at this. He should’ve stayed in the body,” added Paws.

  I nodded. It made sense.

  “Mr. Haroldson, my name is Lemmi and I’m the Witch Mintwood,” I said.

  Might as well just cut to the chase. For ghosts who didn’t know me it was easier if they heard I was a witch right away.

  The man’s eyes went wide and he suddenly looked irritated. “I don’t have time for this. This is the busiest weekend of the year and you’re coming in here wasting my time
on nonsense. I’m so tired at the moment I can’t even pick up these papers. Witches don’t exist. Who told you to come in and say such things to me? I don’t like jokes.”

  “Nobody who comes here like jokes,” said Greer under her breath.

  “What about David?” Charlie asked.

  We had both seen how much Greer seemed to like the man at the front desk.

  At that Greer smiled. “Oh, David’s different.”

  “David, you say?” Mason asked. “Very hard worker, of course he’s gone home now. I haven’t. I don’t have time for practical jokes and nonsense!”

  “Actually, I came to tell you why you can’t pick up the papers,” I said, hoping desperately for inspiration and not finding it.

  “What would you know about it?” Mason sputtered.

  “I know because I’m a witch. The Witch of Mintwood,” I said.

  “Sure you are, and I’m a famous actor,” he said.

  “And you’re also a ghost,” I said very slowly.

  For a split second nothing happened. Then Mason fell backward in his leather chair, laughing uproariously.

  “He really thinks it’s funny,” said Charlie. “You’re not really very funny, but he’s laughing unbelievably hard. Or should I say unbelievingly hard . . .”

  “I am too funny,” I argued.

  “No, not really,” said Paws.

  “Not helping,” I said.

  When Mason finally got himself under control he said, “Do I need to call the police, or are you willing to just leave?”

  “Look at your hands,” I urged him.

  Mason gazed down at his hands, but even that didn’t do it for him. “It’s a trick of the light,” he insisted.

  There was only one thing left for it. “Follow me,” I ordered him.

  At first Mason resisted, but his curiosity about what the three crazy girls in his office had in store for him won out. After some hesitation, he got up from behind his desk and followed us out the door.

  It was a sad procession that returned to the Lily Pond. Harsh floodlights illuminated the water, making the surrounding grounds look extra dark. The bright light also wasn’t great for people’s complexions; everyone looked pale and drawn. The police were serious as they went about their work. It just so happened that at the very moment we approached, Mason’s body was being taken away. He gasped and covered his mouth, staring.