Witch Way to Mintwood (Witch of Mintwood Book 1)

by Addison Creek

  “She was here earlier when I came by,” I said. “I’m just going to check.”

  Ignoring the ghost’s protests, I headed into the mansion, breaking in for the second time that day. That the door was unlocked maybe meant nothing, or was maybe a bad sign indeed. At least Gracie hadn’t locked it after me as if I was some troll. The mansion was exactly the same as when I’d entered uninvited earlier, except darker. Without wasting any time, I hurried up the stairs.

  “This is breaking and entering,” Hank sputtered, following me. “I should call the mistress on you. You’re on private property.”

  “Good luck dialing,” I whispered over my shoulder. I never could pass up a good ghost joke.

  “You just wait and see what happens when Miss Gracie catches you here,” he fumed quietly. “You’ll be in real trouble.”

  The long shadows of the house were my only company – that and an annoyed ghost. When I got upstairs, I went to the bathroom where I’d found Gracie that morning. The door was open this time, and the luxurious room was empty. A robe had been thrown on the floor and a face mask sat next to it.

  Something was wrong about that room, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Strange, you’d think if she’d been here and left under normal circumstances, she would have thrown the mask in the trash and hung up the robe,” I mused, trying to keep my voice low.

  “You don’t know Gracie,” Hank muttered.

  “How did you die, anyway?” I asked. “You don’t look that old.” If his ghost was still haunting his old employers’ place, it was likely he’d died on the property.

  “Massive heart attack,” he said. “Probably from Gracie putting gray hairs on my head all those years.” He sounded gruff, but he said it lovingly, as if he had really cared for her. How anyone could really care for Gracie Coswell I didn’t know, but here I was trying to find out.

  “Which one is her room?” I said, wanting to keep investigating. There was a chance, not very big, but big enough, that she was asleep in her room, having just left the mess where she’d dropped it. True, it was barely eight o’clock, but stranger things had happened. Maybe it was nothing more sinister than that she was ill and needed her rest. If I could just find her, then I could stop being afraid that something terrible had happened despite the fact that I had been there and might have prevented it.

  “It’s down the hall,” he whispered.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered back.

  “Anyway, I wanted to stick around and keep an eye on the place. Keep out intruders,” said Hank. He glared at me, but I just rolled my eyes.

  “You aren’t any help during the day,” I pointed out.

  “Still, that’s half the time,” he said, sounding offended.

  “Besides, Mrs. Goodkeep asked me to check in on Gracie, that’s the only reason I’m here.”

  “Mrs. Goodkeep is an annoying old bat,” he said. “It’s a wonder you do as she asks.”

  “She threatened me,” I muttered.

  Hank threw back his head and laughed. “Here I thought witches were supposed to be impervious to threats. I guess you aren’t as good a witch as you think you are.”

  “I never said I was good at being a witch,” I countered. “It’s not like you take a test and get accepted. They just make you do it.”

  Getting sick of the conversation very quickly, I said, “Are we ever going to get to her bedroom?”

  “Here it is,” he said, pointing to the next room along the hallway.

  Gracie clearly had the best bedroom in the house. She had probably made her parents move into the guest bedroom while she lived in the master, using the fact that they traveled so much as her excuse. Her double French doors were covered in delicate lace curtains. and I could tell from the position of the room that her windows would face the trees and then the lake. She probably had the most stunning view in all of Mintwood. Good thing I already didn’t like her, because this might tip the odds.

  “Should I knock?” I said. We stood in the dark hallway.

  “She sleeps like the dead, so probably no sense in that,” said Hank, and then he felt the need to add, “No sense in you, either.”

  “Watch it. I don’t take crap from ghosts,” I told him.

  “Do you want my help or not?” he asked.

  He had me there.

  Shaking my head, I tried the door and it slid open.

  As soon as I stepped into the room I let out a large gasp. One thing was for sure: there was a lot to see in that room, mostly mess, but Gracie certainly wasn’t there. Even with nothing but moonlight to see by, it was plain that the room had been exploded with several clothing store catalogs.

  The ghost slid around me, causing a sort of tingling sensation down my spine. He looked as horrified as I felt.

  “Oh, Miss Gracie,” he said quietly. “Oh, dear, Miss Gracie.”

  The room was destroyed. There had clearly been a struggle, with furniture overturned and clothes thrown everywhere. Gracie’s bed had been turned entirely upside down.

  “They were looking for something?” I said.

  “Probably the Pier Pearl,” said Hank immediately. “She inherited it though her dad’s side of the family. Priceless. She kept it hidden in a secret compartment in her desk. She refused to keep it at the bank, even though her father begged her to. She didn’t want it far from her in case she wanted to wear it.”

  We both hurried forward, but the pearl’s absence was as clear as Gracie’s. One leg of the desk was overturned, revealing a velvet compartment. An empty velvet compartment.

  “I have to call the police,” I said reluctantly.

  Hank was still staring around his former mistress’s room in shock. “I should have been here. I was at the cemetery for Friday Night Swing, and I wasn’t here.”

  I don’t know why I felt the need to console Hank, but I did. “I think she was taken during the day, maybe right after I was here the first time.” The more I thought about it the more I was sure that when I had arrived earlier there had been something wrong – someone already in the house, probably – and that Gracie’s weird and frantic eye blinking had been meant to alert me. Sad to say, I just thought she had moisturizer in her lashes. Served me right for pre-judging, but then again, everyone had a right to pre-judge when it came to Gracie and lashes that long. She made it so easy.

  I ordered myself to stop that thought train in its tracks. There was no sense in thinking badly of her now that it looked a lot like she’d been kidnapped, or worse, and it was partially my fault. I wasn’t willing to accept all the blame, because, I mean, I wasn’t the one who had done it, but I certainly could have realized she was in trouble sooner.

  “If kidnappers were here earlier, why didn’t they take me too?” I said. “They must have wondered whether I had figured out there was something wrong with Gracie.”

  “They were probably relying on how dense you are. Besides, two pain in the ass women is worse than one.”

  “Did you have that on a bumper sticker when you were younger?” I shot back.

  “No, it was a painting over my bed,” he replied without missing a beat.

  “Maybe I should try her cellphone before I call the police,” I said hopefully. Of course, there was a chance that if Gracie saw who was calling, she wouldn’t answer, but it was a risk I had to take, even though cell service in Mintwood was so terrible it might not be any use.

  The phone went straight to voicemail, which meant that it was off. My heart sank. Sighing, I knew what I had to do now.

  At that moment I also realized how tired I was and how my temples were starting to throb. My unfinished dinner was still sitting on my plate at home, and here I was risking life and limb for Gracie Coswell. What had the world come to? For a split second I considered just leaving. No one would be the wiser, but I couldn’t do it. The police had already lost enough time that they might have spent looking for Gracie, and I couldn’t make them lose any more.

  I went downstairs t
o the telephone and dialed. Someday Mintwood would have cell service . . . some day.

  Ten minutes later, Detective Cutter appeared at Gracie’s mansion. He was a nice man in his sixties who asked me a few questions about what I was doing there in the first place. I had remembered to turn on some lights, which made Hank disappear in a shower of grumbling. But at least I hoped Detective Cutter wouldn’t think I’d been breaking and entering. He obviously still thought it was very strange that I was there at all.

  “I came out to talk to her about protesting the tearing down of the barn,” I explained. “I thought she might be on our side.”

  “That barn’s a deathtrap,” said Cutter. “What makes you think she’s missing instead of just hanging out at a bar or off on a weekend getaway?”

  Did everyone think getting rid of barn was a good idea? I was starting to get depressed.

  “I saw her this morning and she didn’t say anything about going out,” I said. She hadn’t said much of anything, of course, but I left that part out.

  The detective was giving me a very strange look. Suddenly it hit me: what if he suspected me of hurting Gracie!

  “Do you have any idea when she went missing?” he asked, scrutinizing me.

  I shook my head. “I really just want her found. I’ve told you everything I know.”

  Detective Cutter still didn’t look convinced, but he said he’d come back around in the morning if she still hadn’t shown up. “Girls are messy,” he said. “This room doesn’t look ransacked, it looks like her closet exploded. Typical.” Frustrated, I tried to nod pleasantly and then get out of there as quickly as possible before he figured out that I was lying through my teeth. As the Witch of Mintwood, I had to lie even to the police.

  After making sure Cutter wasn’t looking, I gave Hank a quick wave. He had been listening to my conversation with the policeman and nearly exploded when the Detective didn’t sound that concerned about poor little Gracie.

  “But look at that disaster of a room,” Hank shouted, dancing around in the background with his coat tails wagging and a top hat balancing precariously on his forehead. Obviously the detective had no idea a ghost was hollering at him.

  “Not everyone keeps their rooms all tidy and such. Especially young people,” Cutter mused in his slow drawl. He paused for so long I thought he might have forgotten I was there. He was in no rush, that much was clear. Hank looked like he was about to faint from frustration.

  “I grant you the trinket being missing is fishy, but if they were going to steal jewelry, why take the girl as well? She might just be trying to get attention from her parents. I hear they aren’t around much. You’re sure you were just here to check on her?”

  I nodded again and swallowed. I was starting to think that calling the detective might not have been the greatest idea.

  “Like Miss Gracie wants attention from that lot,” Hank muttered, shaking his head. His hair didn’t move, which looked kind of funny given the vigorous motion his neck was making.

  Regardless of what Cutter said, I knew Gracie was missing. Ghosts might be annoying, but Mrs. Goodkeep’s hunch hadn’t been wrong. Gracie was in trouble, and I had left her alone to cope with it. If Mrs. Goodkeep thought a relative was in danger then they were, and I was kicking myself for not taking her seriously enough in the first place.

  The problem was: where was Gracie now?

  I had gotten involved in this nonsense because I didn’t want Charlie to find out I was a witch, but I was starting to wonder if it was worth it. Maybe I should just tell her my secret. I had a feeling that as of tomorrow morning she’d know anyway if I didn’t get to her first. Mrs. Goodkeep was going to be furious. I had failed her.

  Chapter Seven

  When I got home, I knew I was in a ghost load of trouble. Mrs. Goodkeep was chasing Paws around the yard with a broom, and the mice, tea ladies, birds, and rabbits, not to mention a couple of other creatures who were no longer living, had come out to watch the excitement with cheers, crumpets, and old popcorn. Mr. Bone, another ghost who resided in my front yard, and who now that he was dead was imminently proud of how fitting his name was, stood there with his thumbs stuck into his britches, chuckling.

  Mrs. Goodkeep had no hope of catching Paws, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Paws, meanwhile, would dash left, then right, skidding to a stop for a split second to yowl and allow Mrs. Goodkeep to get just close enough, then dash away again.

  The nimble animal leaped from place to place and nearly clawed his way up to the roof, then ran toward the winding driveway, then headed back toward the farmhouse.

  “He’s terribly smug, isn’t he?” I said, getting out of the Beetle and speaking to the nearest tea lady. She sniffed disdainfully at me. They had all refused to speak to me since my grandmother died, as if it were my fault. Someday I hoped to find out what was behind their suspicions, but not today. Shaking my head, I called out to Mrs. Goodkeep.

  “I think in another minute you’ll catch up,” I said.

  Unfortunately, drawing Mrs. Goodkeep’s attention to myself wasn’t the best idea.

  “OH, YOU!” she bellowed, her hat desperately askew. She trundled toward me at a surprising pace, swishing the broom in my face menacingly. “Everything’s fine, you said! You said she was okay! You said you checked on her and nothing was amiss! You said all kinds of lies and I’ll know WHY!”

  I took a step back and coughed nervously as Paws gave me a look that said, “Now you’ve done it.”

  “I did see her this morning, and at the time everything seemed fine,” I said. “Now it isn’t. I called the police. They’re waiting until morning.”

  “What do you MEAN until morning?” she demanded, her fingers gripping the broom handle more tightly. “She’s missing!”

  “There’s just not a lot of evidence of that,” I said.

  “Filthy people always after what’s rightly hers!” Mrs. Goodkeep appeared to be talking to no one in particular now, so lost was she in her ranting.

  “What do you mean?” I said. “Are you talking about the Pier Pearl?”

  Mrs. Goodkeep jutted out her jaw and glared down at me over her imperious nose. “Don’t be an idiot! Of course I am! Everyone’s been trying to take it from me since I got it in the first place, but it’s rightfully mine, I say!”

  “Stop caterwauling and leave the poor girl alone. Can’t you see she’s dead tired?” called out Paws. He gave a smug little cat laugh. “Two jokes in two sentences.”

  “I don’t care if she’s tired! And when I finish with her I’m going to get back to tanning your silly hide! I always hated cats! Vile creatures who think the world of themselves!” Mrs. Goodkeep turned back to me without a break in her rant. “I’m sure no one’s going to harm my grandbaby, but I expect you to make sure. Talk to her good-for-nothing boyfriend Jeff if you have to, but find her. Or else!” Her broken, blackened teeth flashed in the night, and her eyes went wider along with her craggy cheeks.

  She was suddenly menacing.

  “Hank didn’t think she had a boyfriend,” I said. “He thinks she’s single.”

  “What does he know? Is he an official member of Death’s Anonymous?” she demanded.

  “Nope,” called out one of the tea ladies, then she snarled at me.

  “Besides, Hank’s also a man, and we all know men are about as observant as a cozy covered teaspoon,” said Mrs. Goodkeep.

  “You think she had a boyfriend named Jeff?” I said.

  “I know she did. You find him and he’ll know something about where she is. I’m sure they talked all the time. Gracie does have the gift of gab.”

  “Okay, I’ll track him down in the morning,” I said wearily.

  Mrs. Goodkeep looked ready to argue, but Mr. Bone stepped in and saved the day. He pulled his shoulders back and stood tall, looking very respectable although not exactly stately like Hank, and said, “Come on. Gracie will be found safe and sound. She might even be back by morning. You know how kids can get.” He wra
pped a comforting arm around Mrs. Goodkeep’s wide shoulders, and to my utter amazement the woman didn’t even try to shrug off the compassionate gesture.

  I stomped up to my front porch and said, “How was your day, Paws?”

  “Good. I did all of my favorite things,” he answered, his eyes looking large and effervescent through his glasses.

  “What are those?” I said.

  “Played with Charger and Mrs. Goodkeep,” said the cat innocently.

  I let out a gusty sigh. “You’re not very good at hiding your smugness. Was playing with Charger similar to how you were playing with Mrs. Goodkeep?” Somehow I already knew the answer.

  “Something like,” said the cat slyly.

  Poor Charger had probably dashed around chasing air while Paws howled with laughter.

  “Oh, Lemmi,” said Paws.

  “Yes?”

  “You shouldn’t go off ghost-hunting without me,” he said.

  The surprise must have shown on my face, because Paws continued. “Your grandmother always took me along. You could get in trouble otherwise.”

  “Right, I’m sure the chance of my getting in trouble goes down if you’re with me,” I said.

  “You never know when you could use a friendly face.” Paws tried to look friendly, but he only succeeded in looking like he was about to catch a mouse.

  “I’m going to sleep,” I said, and tromped inside. My friends were both in bed, no doubt thinking I’d gone off to do something crazy and they might as well get some rest.

  I had barely been in bed for a minute before I was fast asleep.

  Something woke me up in the middle of the night. Throwing off the covers, I ran downstairs. Greer was already down there, looking bleary-eyed and tousled and dressed in a ratty old bathrobe.

  “Can’t you afford a new one of those?” I said.

  “This one’s comfortable, which is important if I’m going to be awakened in the middle of the night,” she grumbled. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Being awakened in the middle of the night,” I said. “I thought I heard something.”