Murder Most Witchy (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 10)

by Amanda M. Lee

  Davis snorted. “And what do the unicorns say about her?”

  “That she needs to get some because she’s clearly craving horns,” Aunt Tillie replied, not missing a beat. “I should think that’d be obvious. You need to learn to keep up. You’re not very intuitive for a fed, are you?”

  For the first time, Davis’ façade cracked a bit. It was obvious he thought he could bully Aunt Tillie with minimal effort, but she’d brought down bigger foes – and probably this week.

  “Well, I guess everyone is entitled to their opinion,” Davis said carefully. “The residents of this town have varied opinions about you, of course. They think you’re mean, crotchety, theatrical and a little too interested in other people’s business.”

  Aunt Tillie was blasé. “You forgot suspicious by nature, good with a gun, not bothered about the prospect of hiding a body and utterly terrifying.”

  I risked a glance at Landon, fear momentarily overtaking me as I wondered if Davis would take her into custody for threatening him. Landon didn’t look worried in the least.

  “Was that a threat?” Davis asked.

  “When I threaten you, you’ll know it,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I don’t have time to threaten you at this point, because I have someone else to focus on. I don’t want you getting too comfortable, though, because I’ll make time if it becomes necessary.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that,” Davis hedged.

  “I don’t expect you to say anything to it,” Aunt Tillie said. “I honestly don’t give two sprigs of dogwood about what you think or feel. You’re barking up the wrong tree with Bay. You won’t find anything here. The sad thing is that I believe you know that but you’re too stubborn to realize you’re looking in the wrong place.

  “Now, I’m not surprised that you’re lazy and refuse to do actual work to solve this thing,” she continued. “I have a severe dislike for ‘The Man,’ and I’ve always known that ‘The Man’ is lazy. Chief Terry and Landon confused me for a bit because neither one of them is lazy. This one is gluttonous, but he’s hardly lazy.” Aunt Tillie jerked a thumb in Landon’s direction as Twila placed a fresh bowl of chili in front of him.

  “Thank you so much for the vote of confidence.” Landon winked at Aunt Tillie as he broke a breadstick and gave me half to dunk in the bowl Twila delivered to me. “I love you, too.”

  Aunt Tillie didn’t respond, but it was impossible to miss the way her lips quirked. “As I was saying, you’re lazy and you’re not going to do anything to solve this case. I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise.”

  “I’m not sure what the point of that little diatribe was, but … .”

  Aunt Tillie cut off Davis with the shake of her head. “The point is that I don’t trust you. You won’t do your job. I need to make sure you don’t get in the way when we do your job for you.”

  “If you insert yourself in this investigation I will arrest you,” Davis warned.

  Aunt Tillie didn’t appear intimidated in the least. “Oh, please. You don’t frighten me. I’ve squashed turds bigger than you without even realizing I had dung stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I only need you to know that I’ll be watching you … and if you stick your nose too far into my business I’ll find a way to fix the situation that won’t sit well with you.”

  It wasn’t a violent threat, but it was the closest she’d uttered since popping into the kitchen.

  “Thank you for the warning.” Davis was purposely calm, although I could tell that Aunt Tillie’s refusal to capitulate grated. “Do you have anything you want to add to this conversation, Michaels, or are you okay letting the old lady do all of the heavy lifting?”

  Landon shrugged at the challenge. “I think she said what we’re all thinking. Besides, she’s far more terrifying than I am.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Aunt Tillie muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Well, I guess I’ll return to the search.” Davis moved toward the door that led to the family living quarters. “I thought the people in this town were exaggerating when they said you were all loopy, but I’m starting to think they were right.”

  It was meant to be a parting insult, the last word. Davis didn’t know that Aunt Tillie always gets the last word.

  “They’re not even close to knowing everything,” Aunt Tillie called to his back. “You never did say how tall you are.”

  “I’m six feet tall,” Davis barked.

  Aunt Tillie snorted. “In your dreams. You’re like five-foot-seven, right?” Aunt Tillie did the math in her head. “Yeah. You’ve got Little Man’s Syndrome written all over you.”

  Davis paused near the door. “Why do you want to know how tall I am? Are you going to kill me, perhaps bury me in the backyard?”

  Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. “You don’t bury a body in the yard, moron. That’s how you get caught.”

  “Oh, well, at least you’ve thought it out.” Davis was almost through the door before Aunt Tillie spoke again. They were both determined to get the last word, but Aunt Tillie had much more practice.

  “You don’t bury anyone in your yard,” she repeated. “I have a blender and a garden, though. I’m always looking for new fertilizer.”

  “ARE YOU ready for your bedtime story?”

  Annie, the daughter of an inn worker, appeared in the library doorway after dinner. She had a book in her hand and a smile on her face. Landon and I had retired to the small library for a drink and some privacy after stuffing ourselves with manicotti and fresh bread, a delectable chocolate cake capping the meal.

  The search team scoured the living quarters for hours, but left without seizing anything. Davis looked grim as he stood on the back patio talking to Noah. They seemed deep in conversation, but Landon remained convinced they were posturing. Aunt Tillie hid behind the small wall on the east side to listen. She’d reported the only thing they talked about was how they could never find anything worth covering up in their pants.

  The rest of the day passed in relative quiet, although I couldn’t quite shake the underlying feeling of doom resting on my shoulders. As if seeing it himself, Landon attacked my tense muscles with gusto once we were alone, not stopping until I was ready to fall asleep in the middle of the floor. We were ready to head upstairs for bed when Annie found us.

  “You’re going to read us a story?” Landon flashed a smile as Annie shuffled closer. “That sounds fun.” We were both exhausted, but there was no way he’d deter Annie from spending time with us. She spent months being afraid of Landon because he was ‘The Man’ and Aunt Tillie had a tendency to run off at the mouth. Annie’s hero worship of Aunt Tillie caused her to fear Landon, something that had pained him greatly. “What story did you pick?”

  “Aunt Tillie’s Wonderful World of Stories to Make Little Girls Shut Up,” Annie replied, not missing a beat. “It’s new. Aunt Tillie gave it to me a couple of days ago.”

  Landon and I exchanged a knowing look as he grabbed Annie around the waist and tugged her to the spot on the couch between us. “I believe I’m familiar with that book.” He wasn’t happy about being reminded. Aunt Tillie had cursed us into the book so she could illegally sell her wine during the summer. “I’m not sure I’m up for hearing one of those stories, though.”

  “Aunt Tillie says you need a bedtime story or you won’t sleep well,” Annie argued. “I promised to read you one.”

  Landon pursed his lips. “And Aunt Tillie is always right, huh?”

  “Always.” Annie nodded earnestly. “She’s the smartest woman in the world, only we can’t tell anyone because the government will try to grab her and do experiments on her.”

  “Yes, and that would be terrible,” Landon said dryly, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the book. “Do any of these stories not have something terrible happen in them?”

  Annie tilted her head to the side, doing a great impression of Thistle when she was thinking hard, and tapped her bottom lip. “No. All of them involve little girls who have somethi
ng bad happen because they didn’t mind their own business.”

  “And that’s a lovely message to send,” Landon said. “Okay, if you want to read us a story, I’m ready to listen. Pick whichever one you want.”

  Instead of doing as instructed, Annie flicked her eyes to me. “Aunt Tillie said you should pick.”

  “Me?” That was surprising. “Why me?”

  “She said you needed something to remind you that Winchesters always win in the end.”

  That sounded exactly like Aunt Tillie. “How about the one about Thistle being in Witchland? I always liked that one.”

  Landon made a face. “Witchland?”

  I nodded. “Wonderland is boring. Witchland is something to behold.”

  “Ah, well, as long as there’s a reason for it.” He sank lower on the couch, making sure Annie was comfortable between us before reaching over to snag my hand. “Did you pick this one because something bad will happen to Thistle?”

  He knew me too well. “And it’s not overly long,” I added. “The author of this particular book has a tendency to go off on tangents.”

  Landon feigned shock. “You don’t say!”

  Annie giggled at his wide eyes. “I like this story, too. I especially like it when the Mad Witch drowns the whiny unicorn in the river of melted chocolate.”

  Landon’s smile tipped upside down. “That sounds freaky for a children’s book.”

  “All children’s books are kind of freaky,” I supplied. “Even the stories Aunt Tillie didn’t write to scare us have horrible things happen to children. I don’t think Aunt Tillie was the first to realize that stories could control the small-sized masses.”

  “Ah, well … .” Landon broke off, smiling as Annie found the place in the book she wanted and tightening his grip on my hand. “I know you were joking earlier, but eventually – and I’m talking down the road, so there’s no reason to panic – but eventually, this is what I want.”

  I couldn’t help being confused. “You want to go to Witchland? I’m going to be honest, there aren’t a lot of men there. I think Aunt Tillie was feeling particularly nasty about the male gender when she wrote that one.”

  “Not that.” Landon made a face. “This.” He inclined his head toward Annie. “I want a couch of our own … a kid of our own, even if I know she’ll be mouthy and love Aunt Tillie more than me … and I want this book on a fall night. You asked me if I was sure about what I wanted the other day. I’m sure this is what I want.”

  My heart rolled at the admission. “I … want it, too.”

  “I know you do. That’s why I jumped at the chance to make sure I wouldn’t have to go undercover again. I know I caused this, Bay, but I honestly thought I was doing the right thing for both of us.”

  Sympathy washed over me. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

  “We will.” Landon gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and then smiled for Annie’s benefit. “Lay it on me, kid. Make sure you don’t stop until we get to the happy ending.”

  “That’s a myth,” Annie said, sounding older than her years. That’s how I knew she was parroting Aunt Tillie.

  “What’s a myth?”

  “A happy ending,” Annie replied. “Life doesn’t end. You simply move on to a different part of life. People are always living their happy endings, because nothing ever stops.”

  Instead of being agitated with the answer, Landon grinned. “Right you are. Still, I want to hear the entire story. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

  “You won’t.” Annie sounded sure as she began to read. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl with blond hair and a mean smile, and she hated doing housework so much she decided to run away from home. Because she was a terrible girl who thought only about herself, she spent all of her time looking forward instead of down, and she didn’t see the big hole – even though it had teeth and was bigger than a horse’s butt – until she was already falling inside of it.”

  “I can already tell this is going to be a great story,” Landon murmured.

  “They’re all great stories,” I said. “I simply forgot that the destination isn’t as important as the adventure.”

  Nineteen

  “Wakey, wakey.”

  It took me a moment to remember where I was, confusion reigning as I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling fan circling overhead. Landon’s body was warm next to mine, but something odd sat on my foot.

  I tipped up my chin and stared at the end of the bed, my morning-muddled mind briefly wondering if my mother got a cat without telling anyone. She’d been threatening to for years because she said that a cat’s disdain was more comfortable than Aunt Tillie’s, but I didn’t put much stock in the threat. Cats are self-sufficient, but someone still needs to clean the litter box, and I couldn’t imagine my mother doing it.

  I found something much worse than an odd cat staring back at me.

  “Aunt Tillie!” I grabbed at the covers, glancing beneath and letting loose with a relieved sigh when I realized I wasn’t naked. I’d been so exhausted the night before I stayed in my T-shirt and merely crawled under the covers, curled up next to Landon and immediately dropped off.

  “What the … ?” Landon narrowed his eyes as he realized we weren’t alone. “Someone needs to get you a bell.”

  I swallowed the urge to laugh because I’d just been thinking that a cat was sitting on my feet seconds before. I maintained an air of annoyance as I ran a hand through my tousled hair. “What are you doing in here? I know for a fact that you’re not allowed to wander around and let yourself into the guests’ rooms when they’re sleeping.”

  “You are not normal guests.”

  “There’s nothing normal in this house,” Landon complained, readjusting his pillow so he could prop himself up, and glaring. “Did you ever consider knocking?”

  Aunt Tillie was blasé. “Why would I knock? This is my property. Technically you’re under my roof. You’re part of the family. I have no intention of knocking.”

  “Well, at least you’re honest,” Landon muttered, shifting his eyes to me. “How is your head and neck?”

  Even an unwelcome visit from the wakeup witch couldn’t derail Landon’s one-track mind. “I’m fine,” I yawned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “You need to stop hovering.”

  “When we catch the guy who throttled my girlfriend, I’ll stop hovering. Until then, you need to suck it up.”

  “Wow. He’s strict.” Aunt Tillie made a face that couldn’t be misconstrued for anything but annoyance and turned her attention to me. “He snores and you drool. You’re a good match.”

  “That’s not what you said when you cursed him to smell like rotten sauerkraut,” I reminded her. “Speaking of that, I told you not to cast the spell, but you did it anyway. What’s the deal with that?”

  Aunt Tillie snorted, brushing off my middling outrage with an austere wave of her hand. “Oh, please,” she scoffed. “You said you didn’t want me to cast it, but you were near tears the entire time. He had it coming.”

  I risked a glance at Landon. “I honestly told her not to cast it.”

  “I don’t care about that,” Landon countered. “She’s right. I did have it coming. I actually found the entire thing funny. Doug and Becky thought they smelled bad.”

  “They did,” Aunt Tillie said. “I cursed all three of you.”

  “Well, that explains that.” Landon tilted his head, picking up my hand from on top of the covers and flipping it over so he could trace the lines in my palm with his index finger. “I actually enjoyed it. I thought about you the entire day.”

  I wasn’t sure how to take that. “You smelled like rotten sauerkraut and thought of me? Should I bathe more often?”

  Landon grinned. “I just thought of you guys working together to cast the curse, and it made me happy. I knew you were safe and – well, not happy – but busy. I knew you were out there thinking of me. I liked it.”

  “You’re an odd duck.” Aunt Tillie made a quacking sound b
efore shifting. “So, we have a lot to talk about, and you guys need to come down to breakfast so we can plan out everything.”

  That sounded a bit worrisome. “What about the guests? We can hardly plot in front of the other guests.”

  “They’re conveniently distracted with a trip to the corn maze,” Aunt Tillie replied. “Marcus arranged a bus and is acting as a guide. Thistle volunteered him for the job. Plus, well, Winnie didn’t think you would want the guests staring at you after the search.”

  “Why would they stare at me?” I questioned. “They didn’t see the troopers.”

  “No, but word has spread thanks to Margaret Little and her big, fat mouth,” Aunt Tillie grumbled. “She’s telling anyone who will listen that you’re a murder suspect and we’re hiding bodies on the property.”

  “I wouldn’t put much stock in what Mrs. Little says,” Landon argued. “Everyone knows she’s a bitter hag.”

  “Yes, but the tourists can’t pick one small iota of truth out of the huge web of lies we weave in this town on a daily basis,” Aunt Tillie pointed out. “It’s a town where real witches are pretending to be normal humans pretending to be fake witches. For all the guests know, this is part of an elaborate play. Still, it makes some people uncomfortable.”

  “I didn’t even think of that,” I mused, rolling my neck. “Maybe we should stay someplace else.”

  “I’m not necessarily against that – if only to keep Aunt Tillie from peeping – but where do you suggest we go?” Landon challenged.

  “Like I want to see you naked,” Aunt Tillie scoffed. “All cops have small junk. That’s a universal fact.”

  Landon narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. “You’re on my list.”

  “Yeah? I’ve got a buttload of people ahead of you on my list,” Aunt Tillie said. “Thistle is excited because this is the first time she hasn’t been on top of it in weeks. She has some breathing room.”