The office was large and makeshift, with an old couch along one wall and a gray folding table substituting as a desk set against another. Deacon perched on the window sill while we three roommates took the couch.
“Tea?” Jasper asked. We nodded in unison and he headed for the electric kettle that stood on a little stand in one corner of the room.
Deacon raised his eyebrows. “You three do like your tea.”
“Tea is always the right choice,” said Charlie, primly folding her hands in her lap. “Now, what’s going on here? What can you tell us about the case?”
“Off the record?” Jasper asked.
My usual butterflies were there when I looked at him, along with a desire to wrap my arms around his shoulders and comfort him. He looked tired.
In case you were wondering, though, I behaved myself and resisted both options. Yes, I did think I deserved a pat on the back, especially after the week I’d had.
“Of course,” said Charlie.
“Off the record, I can’t tell you anything, because I don’t know anything, and I don’t think the police know anything either,” said Jasper. He didn’t look happy that this conversation was taking place, and I wondered why.
“Sorry you had to be dragged into this,” said Deacon. “If we hadn’t wanted to show you three the silos, none of this would have happened, at least until Jasper had the funding to fix them up.”
I sat up a little straighter when Deacon said he hadn’t given us a tour because of Macy.
Greer was about to say something, but she never got a chance, because just then there was a soft tap on the door and Mildred stuck her blond head in. She was wearing a pile of makeup (if I ever needed to pass for a ghost I’d be sure to ask Mildred what foundation she used), and her perfectly curled hair cascaded over one shoulder.
“Deacon, sorry I’m late,” she said with a smile that seemed to be only for him.
Deacon pushed himself off the window sill and made his way toward the door, giving her a big smile in return.
“No worries!” he said. “Glad you made it.”
Then he turned back to us and waved. “Don’t let Jasper talk your ear off! I’ll see you all later.”
Before any of us could say a word, he was closing the door behind himself and Mildred.
Greer gazed at the door looking displeased, while Jasper looked at me as if he had something on his mind. But there was no time for any of it, because Detective Cutter came just after Deacon and Mildred had left.
Now it was my turn to close the door of Jasper’s office behind me.
“Lemmi,” said Cutter, having led me to the hayloft, “we have to talk.”
“Okay,” I said.
He took a big breath, the kind someone takes when he’s about to deliver a lecture. “I knew your grandmother well. She was a good woman, but she was even nosier than you, and she got involved in a lot of stuff she shouldn’t have.”
This was a serious situation, but all I could think was, there was someone nosier than me? At least it was my blood relative. Still, I didn’t like to lose the “most nosy” prize.
“Detective Cutter, I’m glad you remember my grandmother so fondly,” I said.
He looked a little confused by my response, but he plowed on.
“Nosiness isn’t a good thing, especially as it relates to murder,” he persisted.
Had he just given away that it was murder?
“Right, I totally agree,” I said.
“You shouldn’t be concerning yourself with this silo business. You were there when the body was found, okay, fine,” he said. “You tipped me off to the car in the lake, you were there when Gracie Coswell was missing . . .”
Now that he ran off the list, he almost made it sound as if I was investigating those incidents. Imagine that!
“It’s pretty surprising,” I said. “The silo tour wasn’t even my idea.”
“That’s not what one of my sources said,” Cutter cut in.
Macy had thrown me under the bus, but we’d known that already. It was really amazing how people, especially foolish rich blonds, could get away with misinterpreting things.
“Deacon and Jasper were the ones who climbed down into the silo to investigate the smell,” I said. Besides, it’s not crazy to think I wanted a silo tour.” Not that I’d even been the one asking for it, I said to myself.
“Be careful, Lemmi. This is police business,” Cutter said, trying hard to convey the seriousness of his warning by the solemn tone of his voice.
“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” I insisted. “I didn’t intend to be there when a body was found in the silo. And by the way, do you know who it is?”
I couldn’t help but ask. He was the one who’d brought it up, after all.
Detective Cutter’s face puffed up and his eyes bulged. “We’re working on the case. Obviously I can’t discuss it with civilians. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .” He nodded curtly, turned around, and left.
If the police had noticed how I always happened to be around during cases, I’d have to be more careful in the future. But I didn’t really see what I could do about it. As the Witch of Mintwood and Ghost Whisperer Extraordinaire, I was going to be around, and that was that. If Detective Cutter could only understand that the two of us could maybe work together, that he could fill me in without trouble coming from it, that would make my job a lot easier.
While I waited for that and the sky to turn green, all I could do was continue the investigation.
Chapter Ten
On a typical day, all I wanted to do was curl up in the living room with a hot cup of tea, a good book, and my roommates, but there was nothing typical about the day we’d had. I wasn’t sure what the strangest thing was, but as we came into the farmhouse (too late for dinner) Charlie was trying to rank the day’s events from least to greatest catastrophe.
“I feel like once we’re talking about catastrophes, we may not need rankings,” said Greer. “They’re all bad. It’s in the title.”
“Definitely discovering the body in the silo!” said Charlie. “They still haven’t figured out who it was, and as you pointed out, the ghost was missing. That’s never happened before.”
“I think the strangest thing is all those women milling around town. They obviously don’t belong here,” said Greer.
“I don’t see how we can ignore the fact that the farmhouse was attacked last night and the ghosts had to protect us,” I said.
“It’s shocking, but I guess it’s all so strange on the face of it that last night didn’t seem like that much of a surprise,” said Charlie. Then she disappeared into the kitchen to make tea while Greer and I settled ourselves in the living room.
Paws wasn’t on the front porch, and his absence triggered a worry that started churning around in my stomach.
“How is an attack not shocking regardless?” I called out to Charlie.
“You’re a witch,” she called back. “No story that’s ever been told has witches getting along with each other, so why would real life be any different?”
“You believe Paws was right that it was witches who attacked the place last night?” I clarified.
“It really isn’t a crazy explanation,” said Greer. “I agree with Charlie. An attack on the new Witch of Mintwood was probably inevitable.”
I stared moodily into the fire, processing their words. “It never once occurred to me that other witches would come and attack me. It’s not as if I’m trying to go and attack them,” I said.
“No, but you have something that other witches might want – all of your grandmother’s stuff. Your grandmother was the Witch of Mintwood. Paws said that not every witch has a territory to preside over, and let’s be honest, you haven’t been entirely grateful for yours,” said Greer.
Her words stung, but I knew she had a point. Still, I was working to solve ghost mysteries, which I thought was something, especially without my grandmother there to guide me. I really had been making progress.
But the nighttime attack had taught me that progress as such wasn’t enough.
“All the women milling around town might be related to the attack,” I said.
“That’s a good point,” said Greer, biting her lip thoughtfully.
“The fan woman as well,” I said. “She was strange.”
“True,” said Greer. “Then there was the red car at the Ivy place.”
“Maybe they were lost tourists,” I mused.
“There are no tourists at this time of year,” said Greer.
“I can’t decide which of those two incidents is worse,” I said, ignoring Greer’s snark.
“I’d say the red car, because we had to stay and make sure they weren’t trying to break into the house,” she said.
“Right, but we still don’t know what the fan woman was really after either,” I mused.
“Do you think all these strange incidents with women around town are connected?” wondered Greer.
Something told me they had to be, but I had no idea how. Not the slightest glimmer of an idea.
Charlie came back into the living room with three steaming cups of tea and placed them on the table. “What do we do now?” she asked.
“Don’t ignore the fact that Hansen Gregory is sniffing around this,” said Greer.
“Of course he’s sniffing around this. We found a dead body. I don’t know what else to do with him except play the fool, and he knows none of us are fools. Well, maybe Greer,” said Charlie.
“I think we can handle Hansen Gregory. It’s not as if he’s going to guess the truth,” I said.
Neither of my friends looked happy. “He might not guess the truth, but there are a whole lot of witches in town who don’t appear to like you,” said Charlie.
“What are you saying?” I said.
Charlie sighed and looked down at her tea, “I’m saying that with a lot of strange people in town, and people asking questions, secrets might get harder and harder to keep.”
“Including mine,” I said.
My two friends went to their rooms, but I waited for a certain ghost. When Paws reappeared on the porch, I stuck my head outside and asked him to come in and talk to me.
“In the house? This is quite an honor,” said Paws.
“I want to find my grandmother’s wand and maybe one or two of her spell books,” I said.
I expected him to make a joke, but he didn’t. In fact, he looked downright relieved.
“Where should we start?” he said.
“A lot of her witch stuff is in the attic,” I said. “I know there are a couple of spell books there, but the topics of those books are very specific, like how-to-decorate-a-house magic, or laundry magic (she was pretty happy about that one). I haven’t looked through them closely enough to know if any are for ghost magic or protection, which seems to be what I need right now. Also, a book about witch by-laws would be helpful.”
“I don’t know if you find witch by-laws in a spell book, but you should certainly familiarize yourself with them,” said Paws.
In the light of everything that had been happening lately, I had to agree with him.
“Let’s start with the attic,” I decided.
As we made our way upstairs I said, “I would’ve expected other witches to come here long before this if they were going to come at all.”
“Witches tend to be solitary. They wouldn’t come to another witch’s territory unless they felt like they had to. They also wouldn’t come unless they felt like they could win,” Paws explained.
A shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
When we got to the attic I went straight to the section about witching. The books, scrolls, and odds and ends were right in the middle of the big open space, and kind of hard to miss.
Looking around, Paws said that my grandmother Evenlyn had probably not hidden her wand amongst all this other stuff; she wouldn’t want it to be in a spot where there were a lot of other magical items to draw people’s attention. She also wouldn’t have hidden it in a dank, dark basement.
One place she could’ve left the wand that I hadn’t checked was her bedroom, one of the several rooms I had left untouched since she passed away. The farmhouse was so very rambling that I didn’t need to use all the rooms, and besides, every time I walked past her door it made me sad. If I actually went in, how would I feel then?
“You could certainly start with these,” said Paws. Underneath the spell books about house decorating, gardening, and The Witch in a Modern World were two spell books that actually looked like they might be useful in my current predicament.
“Beginning Witchcraft and Ghostcraft Spells, by Flavoriana Florence,” I read. The second title was by the same author: How to Make Witches’ Brews Without Blowing Up Yourself or Your House.
“Did I ever see Grandmother make a witches’ brew?” I asked Paws.
“I don’t think so. She was terrible at brews, so she probably wouldn’t have done it when you were around. She would have said it was because she didn’t want to hurt you, but she was just really embarrassed about being so awful at it.”
“As a witch, you don’t have to be good at everything?” I asked.
“You come from a very long line of distinguished witches. But no, they certainly weren’t good at everything. No witch is. Understanding your limitations will be one of your biggest strengths,” said Paws.
“I’m perfectly fine with limitations. I know I have a lot of limitations. Bring on the limitations,” I said.
I felt sure that if Paws could have rubbed his temples at that moment, he would have.
“These spell books are all well and good, but what about her wand?” I wondered.
“One thing at a time. The wand is going to be very difficult for you to find if your grandmother didn’t give it to you . . . and she didn’t,” said Paws.
I frowned. “What you talking about?”
Paws sighed. He was sitting on a box as he watched me sift through Grandmother’s old things, and now, shifting position as if he was uncomfortable, he said, “A wand is a witch’s most important possession. They aren’t just left lying around, they aren’t without their protections. Any witch worth her witching will have hired a ghost to protect her wand, including your grandmother,” said Paws.
“I thought ghosts were pretty harmless. How could they protect something as important as a wand?” I wondered.
“Oh, please. We just let you think we’re harmless. Otherwise you would be terrified to have us all out there on the lawn,” said Paws.
“The tea ladies are terrifying?” I said. “They’re just old ladies . . .”
“All the ghosts on the lawn are there to protect you as well as to protect their graves. Only a few ghosts have a lot more power than that on a regular basis, but we can all muster wisps and tricks when necessary. Like last night,” said the cat.
Paws had mentioned last night so many times that I was starting to think he was proud of it or something.
“Okay, so what you’re saying is that the wand has a ghost protecting it. Which one of you is it? Mr. Bone?” I said. My grandmother’s wand would be pretty easy to find if Mr. Bone told me where it was.
“It isn’t any of the ghosts on the lawn,” said Paws. “It would be a ghost your grandmother saved. Some ghost she did a favor for, so the ghost had to do a favor in return.”
“All right,” I said slowly, “so there’s a ghost that’s been at the farmhouse all along that I’ve never seen?”
“Precisely,” said Paws.
I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
Before we left the attic I flipped through Ghosts 101. “Maybe this book will tell us where the missing barn ghost is,” I said.
Paws had nothing to say; he had gotten down off the box and started trotting through the attic, no doubt sniffing for mice, real and ghostly.
Most of the book was elementary, discussing topics I had already covered, like how to see ghosts at home and how to
talk to ghosts. Vaguely, I wondered if the book gave tips on how to talk to ghost animals, but in the end I knew it was unlikely that my problems communicating with Paws had anything to do with the fact that he was a cat.
Paws had said that the ghost protecting the wand wasn’t seen because he didn’t want to be, but the rest of them were perfectly happy to take tea outside.
“Ah ha!” I cried. “Here’s a chapter about what happens to the ghost when a person passes away.”
I bent over the book and read:
A ghost shall stay with its body until such time as the body is buried or discovered. This way the ghost watches over it.
In the rare event that the ghost isn’t with the body, only dark spells can be to blame.
Paws looked back at me. Somehow even as a ghost he could sense that my feelings had changed.
“Are you okay?” he said.
“I don’t know,” I told him.
I sat in the attic for a long time.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie was waiting for me in the living room the next day, while Greer was apparently getting back to her sleeping-in ways.
“Liam texted to say he was stopping by,” she said. “He’s bringing scones, muffins, and the Chronicle.”
My heart skipped. “Hansen’s paper?”
Charlie nodded grimly. “I have a bad feeling about it.”
Liam arrived with the promised goodies, but he knew better than to try and get Charlie to eat before she read Hansen’s article.
“I thought you should see it,” he said. “Fresh off the presses.”
“Thanks,” said Charlie, taking the offered paper.
I looked at Liam, hoping for some clue as to what the paper contained, but he just closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. Oh, that was bad. Very bad.
Charlie’s expression didn’t change as she read the article, but her hands clutched the paper more and more tightly.
“What is it?” I demanded when I couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. Over Charlie’s shoulder I could see the headline, “Death at a Fundraiser, a firsthand account,” but that was all.
Spell by Midnight (Witch of Mintwood Book 3) Page 7
