Wicked Brew

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Go ahead,” I said. “What? It’s not like anyone is going to stop.”

  Basil danced a small jig at the edge of the road. She had an odd rhythm, but it was interesting to watch. To my surprise, the truck stopped. The passenger, a woman I recognized as a teacher from the elementary school, handed Basil a twenty and then grabbed the wine before her husband continued driving down the road. My mouth dropped open in surprise. “What the … ?”

  Basil handed the money to Aunt Tillie, who patted her on the head. “I knew you were going to be my good luck charm.”

  I watched as Aunt Tillie shoved the twenty into a metal tin on a folding chair next to her small display table. Landon followed my gaze and strode over to take the tin from Aunt Tillie. She put up a fight, but Landon was stronger – and more determined. When it opened, his mouth dropped open. He pulled out a thick wad of bills. “How much is this?”

  “That’s mine,” Aunt Tillie said, reaching for the bills.

  Landon raised them higher. “How much is this?”

  “It’s a thousand dollars, give or take,” Aunt Tillie said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “You’ve made a thousand dollars in less than twenty-four hours?” I was impressed.

  “I’m a good saleswoman.”

  “This is still illegal,” Landon said.

  “Oh, well, then arrest me,” Aunt Tillie said, holding her hands out in front of her. “Arrest a little old lady and prosecute her for trying to scratch out a living. Way to protect the public.”

  “You have an inn,” Landon said. “You don’t need the money from this. You’re just doing it to annoy everyone.”

  “I’m an entrepreneur,” Aunt Tillie replied. “You’re just jealous.”

  Landon glanced at Bay for support. “Do you want to chime in here?”

  “I’m just wondering if selling newspapers by the edge of the road would be worth it,” Bay admitted.

  Landon turned to me. I held up my hands. “I’m going to bring some of the new lotions and candles I made out here. I think she’s on to something.”

  “You people are unbelievable,” Landon said, tossing the money back at Aunt Tillie and stalking back toward the inn. “Un-freaking-believable.”

  “HOW much did you end up with?”

  I was watching Aunt Tillie count her bounty from across the dining room table. After dragging another table out to the road, and putting bottles of lotion, herbs and candles on it, we’d taken turns letting Basil dance. By the time the day was over, I’d raked in five hundred bucks – and watched Basil laugh for an entire afternoon. The laughter was worth more than the money in my book.

  “It’s just under sixteen hundred,” Aunt Tillie said. “I’m halfway to my goal.”

  “What are you going to use the money for?”

  “I need a new plow,” she said. “Mine is shot.”

  Aunt Tillie likes to plow things in the winter. She says it’s because she enjoys helping out those in need. Personally? I think she just likes to ram into things with her truck. Technically, she doesn’t have a driver’s license, so she shouldn’t be plowing. No one in town – except Landon – ever calls her on it.

  Basil, her cheeks pink from a little too much sun, slid into the open chair between us. She had a cookie in her hand, and a smile on her face.

  “Did you have fun today?” I asked.

  Basil nodded.

  “Are you ready to talk yet?” I pressed.

  Basil pretended she didn’t hear me.

  Aunt Tillie watched her thoughtfully for a moment. “Don’t bug her,” she said finally. “She’ll talk when she wants to talk.”

  Basil nodded in agreement.

  “You know, when Thistle was little, she went an entire week without talking,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “I did not.”

  “She did,” Aunt Tillie said, ignoring me. “She was mad. She thought her cousin Clove had stolen her doll and beheaded it.”

  A memory tugged at the recesses of my mind.

  “She said she wasn’t going to talk until Clove admitted doing it,” Aunt Tillie said. “When someone asked her what she wanted for dinner, do you know what she did? She barked like a dog.”

  I wanted to argue, but the story sounded vaguely familiar.

  “When someone asked her if she wanted a new doll, she barked like a dog,” Aunt Tillie continued. “It was pretty freaking annoying. Finally, I had to tell her the truth – and I hate telling people the truth. Clove wasn’t the one who beheaded that doll.”

  “It was you,” I interjected.

  “It was creepy,” Aunt Tillie said. “It was like it was watching me. I swear it was haunted.”

  Basil’s eyes widened.

  “It wasn’t really haunted,” I said. “She’s just making that up. She just didn’t like the doll.”

  “It wasn’t haunted,” Aunt Tillie corrected. “It just wanted to be.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t tell her that,” I said. “You’re going to give her nightmares. The doll wasn’t haunted. It was just ugly. That’s why I liked it. I knew it bothered Aunt Tillie.”

  “I knew it,” Aunt Tillie said. “You picked out that doll from the antique store because you knew I hated it, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t even like dolls,” I said.

  Basil giggled. I tickled her ribs briefly. “Why don’t you go and get washed up? Dinner will be served in a few minutes. I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

  Basil nodded and disappeared from the room. Seconds later, Chief Terry let himself into the dining room from the main foyer. “Hello, ladies.” He pulled up short when he saw all the money on the table. “What’s that?”

  “They illegally sold goods next to the road all day,” Landon said, breezing in from the kitchen with Bay and Clove on his heels. “I stayed in the guesthouse so I didn’t see it and wouldn’t have to arrest them.”

  “Holy crap,” Clove said, eyeing the money. “You made that much just from selling lotion and candles next to the road?”

  “It was surprisingly easy,” I admitted. “I think Aunt Tillie is on to something.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all … well … forever,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “You both make me tired,” Landon said, turning his attention to Chief Terry. “Anything?”

  “We got a hit on her fingerprints,” Chief Terry said, settling at the table and running his hand through his graying hair. “Her name is Annie Martin.”

  “Does she live around here?” Bay asked.

  Chief Terry shook his head. “She’s from Minnesota.”

  “What was she doing here?” I asked.

  “That’s a very good question,” Chief Terry said. “All we know right now is that Annie Martin and her mother Belinda left the state of Minnesota three weeks ago. We don’t know when they got to Michigan, and we don’t know why they came to Michigan. We executed a search warrant, and we should have some credit card information tomorrow.

  “For now, though, we just don’t know,” he said.

  “What about her father?” Landon asked.

  “We’re trying to track him down,” Chief Terry said. “From what I can tell, the parents did not live together and were never married.”

  “What about grandparents?” I asked.

  “Her maternal grandparents are dead,” Chief Terry said. “We have managed to get in contact with her paternal grandparents. They seemed surprised to hear we’d found her, but they wouldn’t say why. They’ll be here the day after tomorrow to collect her.”

  “You’re just going to give her to them?” Aunt Tillie asked. “For all we know, they’re the ones who hurt her.”

  “For all we know, her mother is the one who hurt her,” Chief Terry countered. “They have the right to take her. There’s nothing I can do.”

  Somehow, that news didn’t sit well with any of us. Unfortunately, we were in a tricky spot.

  Four

  After another restless night, I woke
up late the next morning. Annie was already gone, and I found my mom and Clove in the dining room when I finally stumbled downstairs on a coffee hunt.

  “Your hair looks amazing,” Clove said, giggling.

  Why is everyone always picking on my hair? It’s so unfair.

  I glanced at my reflection in the mirror on the wall and cringed. My hair often has a mind of its own. This morning, apparently, it was feeling batshit crazy. Instead of engaging in a fight, I sat down next to Clove and snatched a piece of toast off of her plate. “I’ve been thinking about changing the color.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” Mom said. “The blue is all wrong for your complexion.”

  I ignored her. “Since Annie only seemed to come around when she saw my hair, I’m going to hold off until she goes home with her grandparents.”

  Clove’s face softened as she looked me up and down. “You’re worried about sending her away with her grandparents, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t sure what was bothering me. I just knew something was. “I don’t think sending Annie away with people who had no idea she was even missing is a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Clove asked.

  “Because it doesn’t seem right,” I said. “We found Annie walking down the middle of the road. She was dehydrated, and she had a bump on her head. We don’t know if someone hit her. We don’t know if she was in a car accident. We have no idea what happened to her mother.”

  “Maybe her mother is the one who hurt her,” Clove suggested. “Maybe she ran away from her mother and is scared she’ll find her.”

  “Maybe,” I said, accepting the mug of coffee my mom slid across the table in my direction. “Or maybe something happened to her mother, and that’s why she’s traumatized.”

  Clove stilled. “Do you think someone killed her mother and she saw it happen?”

  “I have no idea,” Thistle said. “I just know I don’t feel good about letting her go until we know what happened to her.”

  Mom patted my hand. “You’re much more sensitive than we give you credit for.”

  “I’m not sensitive,” I countered. “I’m just as … insensitive as I ever was. I just don’t like thinking of a little kid being hurt if we can help it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Clove said, tucking her long hair behind her ear and grinning. “We’ll keep telling everyone you’re ornery if you want. It will be our little secret that you’re really just a pussy cat in lion’s clothing.”

  I shot her a withering look. I wasn’t going to let her bait me. It wouldn’t do Annie any good if she saw us fighting. Once she was gone, though? Oh, yeah, the gloves were off – and Clove was eating a whole garden of dirt. “Where is Annie, by the way?”

  “Aunt Tillie took her out to the greenhouse to look around,” Mom said. “She seemed excited to pick out plants. Aunt Tillie is even letting her do some potting.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Are they really in the greenhouse? Or does Aunt Tillie have Annie out dancing by the road again?”

  “They’re really out in the greenhouse,” Mom said. “Landon hid Aunt Tillie’s wine stash. She’s threatening him with great bodily harm, by the way, if he doesn’t return it. He doesn’t appear to be too worried.”

  “That’s because she’s never cursed him,” I said. “Still, that was a gutsy move on his part.”

  “Bay is beside herself,” Mom said. “She’s convinced Aunt Tillie is going to curse her instead.”

  “Aunt Tillie probably will do just that,” I said. “She loves making Bay suffer.”

  “She loves making all of us suffer,” Clove said.

  “Landon says he doesn’t care,” Mom said. “He’s openly campaigning for the bacon curse.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. What is it with men and the smell of bacon? “I’m sure it will be okay,” I said. “Aunt Tillie isn’t going to do anything while Annie is here. She wouldn’t dare. She seems to really like her.

  “I think I’m going to go down to the greenhouse and collect her, though,” I continued. “We have some stuff to do at the shop today, and a few hours away from this place might do her some good.”

  “You don’t have to come to the shop if you don’t want to,” Clove said. “I can do everything.”

  “There’s a big tour hitting town on Wednesday,” I reminded her. “The summer season is officially set to begin. We’re not ready yet.”

  “I can do the work,” Clove said. “Annie should be your priority.”

  “She’s really taken a shine to you, too,” Mom said, her eyes sparkling. “Since children are usually terrified of you, I’m taking it as a good sign that I’ll get grandchildren one day.”

  I finished the rest of my coffee and got up from the table. “Don’t get your hopes up. Annie is only attached to me because she latched on to my hair. Once she gets over being traumatized, she won’t even remember I exist.”

  “THIS is a magic shop,” I said as I ushered Annie into Hypnotic. Clove and I had opened the store a few years ago, figuring it was a great way to embrace Hemlock Cove’s magical rebranding and make a living at the same time. It had worked out well so far. We were one of the most popular – and most frequent – stops for tourists when they came to town.

  Annie’s eyes were bright as she glanced around.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “You can’t break anything here. You can look around.”

  Annie still seemed unsure. “We just have some inventory to do,” I explained. “We have to put things out on the shelves, and Bay is coming by for lunch. Do you remember Bay?”

  Annie nodded.

  “She’s going to bring some sandwiches and potato chips,” I said.

  Annie seemed comfortable with the situation, and she promptly shuffled over to the tarot table in the corner and started flipping through the cards. Technically, reading tarot cards is a pre-cognitive gift. While we have hints of it in our family, no one is great at it. That doesn’t stop Clove from doing readings. Most people just want to hear good things about their future, and that’s a service Clove is always eager to deliver. She’s a people pleaser at heart.

  Clove arrived a few minutes later with a bag of cookies in her hand. “I figured you might want a treat later,” she said, smiling at Annie. She studied the girl for a second. “Do you want me to show you how to use those?”

  Annie glanced at me for permission.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “I’m going to be in the back for a few minutes, but I’ll still be here. Clove is fun.”

  Clove beamed.

  “And, if she’s not fun, just kick her in the shins until she starts entertaining you,” I added.

  Annie giggled.

  “You get more and more like Aunt Tillie every day,” Clove grumbled.

  “I’m taking that as a compliment,” I said.

  I left Annie with Clove, smiling to myself as she absorbed every quaint magical tidbit Clove bestowed upon her, and got to work. Two hours later, the backroom was organized and our new inventory was spread out on the shelves. Annie had taken to organizing like a pro, and we left her to her own devices. She seemed to have a gift for it, and when she was done, the shelves were all beautifully arranged.

  Bay arrived with lunch at noon on the dot, and we all settled on the couch and chairs at the center of the store for a break.

  “How are you doing?” Bay asked Annie.

  Annie smiled brightly in reply.

  “Did you have fun here with Clove and Thistle today?”

  Annie nodded.

  Annie took her sandwich and chips and returned to the tarot table, sitting in one of the chairs and thumbing through the book Clove had given her to explain how the cards worked as she munched on her sandwich. I didn’t think she could read – at least not at a level that the book required – but she seemed to be having fun pretending all the same.

  “What did you find out?” I asked Bay, keeping my voice low.

  “There’s not a lot so far,” Bay said. “I know that Belinda Martin go
t pregnant with Annie when she was eighteen. She was still in high school, but she graduated before Annie was born.

  “As far as I can tell, Belinda was a good mother,” Bay continued. “Annie was enrolled in school and she attended regularly. In fact, she rarely missed a day. She tested into special classes for reading and science, and never had any behavioral problems.”

  “How did you find that out?” Clove asked.

  “I called the school she was enrolled in,” Bay replied.

  “And they just told you that?”

  “I explained the situation here,” Bay said. “They seemed eager to help. They even got Annie’s teacher on the telephone. She said that Annie was bright and engaging. Everyone was surprised when Belinda yanked her out of school a few weeks ago. She didn’t give an explanation.”

  “And she can talk, right?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Bay glanced over her shoulder to make sure Annie wasn’t listening. “The teacher said Belinda dropped Annie off every morning and picked her up like clockwork every afternoon. While they didn’t have a lot of money, Annie was always dressed in decent clothes and she was always clean. Belinda also came to every school function. She didn’t miss one.”

  “That doesn’t sound like someone who would just abandon their kid,” Clove said.

  “No,” I agreed. “What about Annie’s father?”

  “There is no father listed on the birth certificate,” Bay said. “Later, Jonathan Denham appeared on Annie’s school documents as her father. He was never cleared to pick her up from the school, though, and he apparently never attended any of her school functions. The birth certificate was amended when Annie was five.”

  “I can’t believe the school told you all of that,” I said, impressed.

  “They told most of it to Landon,” Bay admitted. “He told me. They did talk to me after he cleared it, though.”

  “So, do we know anything about this Jonathan Denham?” Clove asked.

  Bay shifted her gaze to Annie again and then leaned forward. “He was Belinda’s teacher.”

  I made a face. “You’re saying that she got knocked up by her teacher?”

  Bay nodded.