“I don’t think that’s really the rule,” Thistle said. She’d wised up and began following Bay not long after we waded into the woods.
“It’s the rule if I say it’s the rule,” I said, grabbing the back of Clove’s coat even as she moved to keep walking farther into the woods. “That’s far enough, short stack. All we need to do is get a clear view into the house. The big bay window in the dining room is right there. We should be able to see most of the main floor from here.”
“That doesn’t really work from this far away,” Bay pointed out. “It worked during the summer because you brought us after dark and we could sneak right up under the window to take those photographs you wanted.”
“I still don’t get that,” Thistle added. “You say it’s fine for you guys to dance naked, but when Mrs. Little does it you think it’s a crime against humans. Er, a crime against humidity.”
“A crime against humanity,” I corrected. “I still haven’t been proven wrong on that, by the way. You need to pay more attention to your English lessons and stop worrying so much about who I’m taking photos of. You mimic what everyone says so it sounds like you have a bigger vocabulary than you really do.”
“And you need to stuff it,” Thistle grumbled. If she thought she said that low enough for me not to hear, she was sorely mistaken. Of course, she might’ve purposely said it loud enough for me to hear, in which case I was mildly proud of her.
“All that matters is that we’re good here,” I said, making sure I was mostly covered by the large pine tree at the edge of the property as I dug in my purse. “I brought help.”
“What kind of help?” Clove asked curiously.
“These.” I pulled the binoculars I lifted from Winnie’s bedroom this summer out of my purse and grinned. “Now we’ll be able to see directly into her house. If Edgar is there, we’ll see. If she’s dismembering him in the tub to get rid of the evidence, we’ll see that, too.”
“Oh, gross,” Bay complained, wrinkling her nose. “You don’t think she’s really doing that, do you? That will give Clove nightmares.”
“Uh-uh,” Clove argued, shaking her head. “I don’t get nightmares like a baby. You do.”
“Oh, really?” Thistle was completely annoyed with the situation. She wasn’t generally known for being outdoorsy. “Do you remember when we watched Jaws and you were convinced there were sharks in the lake?”
“That was one time,” Clove protested.
“How about when we watched Poltergeist and you wouldn’t go in the closet for a month?” Bay challenged. “We had to put your clothes away, and it wasn’t fair because you got out of chores in the bedroom while we had to do everything.”
“Yeah, I think you answered your own question there,” I said. “She wasn’t afraid of the closet. She was lazy and didn’t want to do chores. Keep up.”
Realization washed over Bay’s face. “Hey!”
“It’s too late now,” I told her, lifting the binoculars so I could stare into the house. The curtains were open, but it was hard to focus the stupid things and keep track of what I was looking at. The first thing that loomed into view was a ceramic snowman that looked more freaky than Frosty. “Ugh. I swear some people shouldn’t be allowed to buy knickknacks.”
“Says the woman who has a rooster dressed like a slutty girl in her bedroom,” Bay deadpanned.
“He’s not dressed like a slutty girl,” I corrected. “He’s dressed like a burlesque dancer. There’s a difference.”
Bay didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh.”
“Oh, and for the record, that rooster is a priceless work of art,” I added. “I bought him from a flea market and added the outfit myself. I’ve gotten hundreds of compliments on him. People think I’m a real artist. I could do it professionally and everything.”
“Only if the world goes blind and people with taste are killed by some alien or something,” Thistle said, smoothly evading my hand when I reached out to cuff her. “Now do your spying so we can get out of here. It’s cold and I’m bored.”
“If you shut your mouth and let me concentrate, that won’t be a problem,” I said, staring through the binoculars again.
The girls were quiet for exactly thirty seconds and then Bay ruined the calm. “Did you hear that?”
“All I hear is you three yapping,” I snapped.
“No, listen,” Bay ordered, pressing her finger to her lips.
I did as she asked but all I could hear was the four of us breathing. “What do you hear?”
“It sounds like a man is yelling inside or something,” Bay said, pressing her eyes shut. “I … no, I definitely hear a man.”
I narrowed my eyes as I stared into the house, but I couldn’t see anything. After a few moments, though, I did hear the faint sound of someone else’s voice as the back door of Margaret’s house opened. I grabbed the girls to hide them behind the tree, clutching them to me so they didn’t make an error and wander out where someone could see them. I couldn’t risk peering in that direction because whoever opened the door would see us. The voice was definitely male, though. Edgar?
I waited until the door closed to speak again.
“Did anyone see who it was?”
“You made us hide behind the tree,” Thistle said. “We couldn’t look because you wouldn’t let us.”
She had a point. Still, I wasn’t going to admit that. “So no one saw anything?”
“I only know it was a man,” Bay said. “I didn’t get to see him and couldn’t understand what he was saying.”
That made two of us. “Well, we have only one choice,” I said, making up my mind on the spot. “We have to get closer to the house.”
The girls groaned in unison. They were loud enough to hide the sound of approaching footsteps until it was too late to make a run for it, because a dark figure was upon us.
“You’re under arrest.”
Well, crud.
Nine
I recognized Terry’s voice before I swiveled. I wasn’t particularly frightened. I knew he wouldn’t throw me in jail, no matter what he said. That didn’t mean I was keen to have a showdown with law enforcement on my mortal enemy’s property.
That sounded melodramatic, didn’t it? Oh, who cares?
“Hello, Terry,” I said, pasting a bright smile on my face as we locked gazes. He didn’t look remotely happy. “What a beautiful day for a walk. Don’t you think it’s a beautiful day for a walk?”
The set of Terry’s jaw was grim. “Really? Is that the story you’re going to go with? It’s twenty-eight degrees, and you’ve forced three children to go on a march through thick snow so you can spy on a woman who collects porcelain unicorns. Think of a better story.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Thistle did it for me.
“We weren’t spying,” she lied. “We were hunting for Christmas elves. Aunt Tillie thought it would be a fun way for us to spend the afternoon because we’re so excited for Christmas.”
That story would never work for an adult. Terry wasn’t an idiot, so it didn’t work coming from a child either.
“Don’t lie, Thistle,” Terry chided. “I don’t like that.”
“She’s not lying,” Clove said, jutting out her lower lip. “It’s true. Aunt Tillie said if we caught a Christmas elf we would get everything we wanted for Christmas. I want world peace and hundreds of gifts to give to kids who don’t have anything. It’s really a good thing.”
And that was much more convincing, especially coming from a child with a face that belonged on an angel and who was half buried in snow.
Unfortunately for us, Terry wasn’t falling for that either. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around Clove’s waist and lifted her out of the snow. He brushed off the clinging white powder before fixing her with a serious look. “Are you cold?”
“Not nearly as cold as the kids who have nothing for Christmas,” Clove replied solemnly.
“You’re going to make some man very afraid in ten years,” T
erry said. “He’s going to take one look at those big eyes and fall head over heels in love. Then he’s going to realize you own him and have nightmares.”
“Will they involve clowns in closets?” Clove asked.
“I don’t know what that means.” Terry turned his attention to Bay as she tried to hide beneath the barren branch of a maple tree. “How about you? Are you hoping to catch a Christmas elf to provide gifts for those less fortunate, too?”
Bay bit her lip and shook her head. Crap! She was going to be my undoing. I just know it.
“We honestly are on a mission of mercy,” I said. “The fact that we ended up here is just an odd coincidence. I had no idea we were so close to Margaret’s house.”
“Quiet,” Terry ordered, never moving his eyes from Bay’s worried face. “What are you doing here, Bay?” It was if he knew she couldn’t lie to him. That’s why he focused on her. Quite frankly, that’s akin to child abuse in my book.
“We were just taking a walk,” Bay mumbled, averting her gaze. Sheesh. I taught her to lie better than that.
“Why were you walking?” Terry pressed.
“Because … .” Bay darted an unreadable look in my direction. She looked as if she was being tortured.
“Oh, leave her alone,” I said, giving in. “Fine. You’ve got us. We weren’t looking for a Christmas elf. Arrest us. Throw us in a cell. Make this the worst Christmas ever for three bad little girls.”
Terry scowled. “I am convinced you’re the Devil sometimes,” he hissed, reaching for Bay to draw her out from beneath the tree. “Don’t say things like that to them. You’ll frighten them and make them afraid of police officers. Is that what you want?”
I shrugged. “We were having a great time until you showed up,” I said. “If they’re upset, I blame you.”
“Whatever.” Terry smoothed Bay’s hair as he tilted up her chin so they could lock gazes. “What are you doing out here?”
“I just told you,” I snapped.
“No, you said you weren’t looking for a Christmas elf,” Terry countered. “I already knew that. You didn’t tell me what you were doing.”
“We’re looking for the dead body,” Thistle said, sticking out her tongue and hopping away from me when I reached out to grab her. “Aunt Tillie took us to breakfast at the bakery this morning, and Mrs. Gunderson told her that there’s a rumor about the dead man and Mrs. Little.”
“She thinks Mrs. Little chopped him into little bits in the house because she’s a bad witch,” Clove added. “We’re here to see if that’s true.”
Terry was flabbergasted. “Why would you possibly tell these girls that?”
“I didn’t tell them that,” I sniffed. “They figured it out on their own. They’re quite bright.”
“Yes, they’re regular geniuses,” Terry said. “You know you were seen casing the house from the road, right? Mrs. Little called the station and said that she was convinced someone was going to rob her.”
I snorted. “She knows my truck. She only wanted to get us in trouble.”
“And that’s her right,” Terry said. “This is her property. You have no business being on it. While we’re at it, you have no business plowing in the end of her driveway either. If I ever catch you, I’m going to have to write a ticket.”
“And you won’t do well in prison either,” Clove said, bending over to pack some snow. “I’m not the only one.”
“Clove, you’re not going to prison,” Terry said. “What are you doing out here, Tillie? Do you really think that Mrs. Little killed Edgar Martin? Seriously? Do you think she chopped him up in little bits and put him in her cookies or something?”
Well, when he put it like that it sounded ridiculous. It made much more sense in my mind. There was no way I was going to admit that, though. I decided to change tactics. “I think that Margaret was with us the day the girls said they found the body,” I said. “I think something was definitely in that clearing – and so do you. The girls are imaginative, but they don’t make up things like finding bodies.”
“Okay, I get that,” Terry said, adjusting his tone. “I think they saw something, too. I initially assumed Edgar got drunk and passed out. I figured he woke up because it was cold and wandered away before we got there.”
“But you haven’t been able to find him either,” I said. “You’ve been looking and he’s not around. Admit it.”
“I admit it,” Terry said. “I looked because I didn’t want the girls to obsess about this. I also figured you’d feed their imagination because that’s what you do when you’re bored. It’s too cold for them to be running around on adventures with you.
“I mean … will you look at this child?” Terry gestured toward Clove. “She’s covered in snow and freezing. She’ll get pneumonia. Do you want that?”
“Of course not,” I said. “We’ve only been out here twenty minutes. We would already be done if you hadn’t distracted us. We were just about to get closer to the house so we could see the man inside and call it a day.”
“Get closer? You can’t just peek through the windows at someone else’s house,” Terry said. “I … wait. What man?”
“There’s a man inside,” Bay said. “We heard his voice. We think it might be Edgar.”
Terry didn’t want to be swayed, but the idea of solving this case – although it wasn’t really a case – held a lot of appeal. He clearly wanted to enjoy Christmas instead of worrying about whether or not the girls were running around the countryside and spying on neighbors with me.
“Are you sure it was a man?” Terry asked, rubbing his chin.
I nodded. “It was definitely a man.”
Terry licked his lips as he stared at the house. “Okay. Come on. We’re ending this now.”
I knew he would see things my way. I turned to wade through the snow, but Terry stilled when the girls remained rooted to their spots.
“What’s wrong?” Terry asked.
“We’re tired,” Clove said. “I can’t walk any longer. I think I might faint.”
Terry growled as he bent over and picked up Clove with one arm. She weighed very little so it wasn’t difficult for him to lift her. He slid a sidelong look in Bay’s direction. “What about you?”
Bay shrugged. “I’m tired, too.”
Terry made a disgusted sound as he scooped her up with his remaining arm. He looked resigned when he glanced at Thistle. “Are you tired, too?”
“You’re out of arms,” Thistle pointed out.
“I have a back.”
Thistle smiled as she scurried behind Terry. I had to help her scramble up his back, but when he had all of the girls securely affixed to his frame he picked the shortest route toward Margaret’s house. He walked so fast, in fact, I had to jog to keep up. I momentarily wished I had a camera because the sight of him walking with the three girls clinging to him was adorable. He was a better father to them than the ones they were born with. He just didn’t realize it.
Terry didn’t put the girls down until we were at Margaret’s front door. He was careful as he lowered each one, and then he checked them to make sure everyone was safe and settled before knocking on the door.
I wasn’t expecting that. I thought we would come up with a plan before we alerted Margaret to our presence. For example, I thought he could distract Margaret while I punched her in the face and ran inside to untie Edgar in the basement, where she was planning to sacrifice him to the dark gods in front of her altar. What? That could totally happen.
Margaret wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter when she threw open the door. “Did you arrest her?”
“Not yet,” Terry replied. “She says she was helping the girls find a Christmas elf and got turned around. I tend to believe her. It wasn’t a purposeful excursion.”
The lie slid easily off his tongue. I couldn’t help but be surprised. I knew he wasn’t doing it for me, though. He was doing it for the girls. He didn’t want to upset them.
Margaret’s penciled on eyeb
row (she stopped growing real ones years ago) arched as she graced Terry with a sour look. “Really? Do you expect me to believe that? She was hunting for Christmas elves? They’re not real.”
“Yes, they are,” Clove said solemnly. “They live at the North Pole with the house-trashing fairy and sock-eating gnome. That’s not important, though. We want to see the dead guy.”
Margaret balked at Clove’s fortitude. “Excuse me, young lady, but I don’t believe anyone was speaking to you,” she said. “Youngsters should be taught to refrain from speaking unless spoken to. That’s how I would’ve raised children if I’d been so blessed.”
She was so full of crap I was afraid to touch her in case she exploded and turned the snow brown on her own. “You didn’t have kids because no one could bear to see you without your clothes on,” I shot back. “People are afraid your body is like Medusa’s and they’ll turn to stone if they see it.”
“You take that back,” Margaret hissed, extending a finger. “I don’t have to put up with your nonsense. You’re trespassing.”
“She’s not exactly trespassing,” Terry clarified. “I asked them to come to the house with me so I could investigate the possible sighting of a missing person.”
Margaret narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits. She looked like a coiled snake about to strike. “What missing person?”
“Edgar Martin,” Terry replied. “We have reason to believe he may be in grave danger.”
“Because you’re going to sacrifice him to blood winds,” I added under my breath.
Terry ignored me. “Edgar hasn’t been to his home in several days, and we have multiple witnesses who say they believe he was injured and lying in the snow at some point,” he said. He was a master at manipulating words when he wanted to force an issue. It was something to behold. “It has come to my attention that you’ve been seen with Edgar several times over the past few weeks, and you have a man inside your house today.”
Merry Witchmas: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 10) Page 8
