“Yes,” Byron nodded.
“And he threatened you?”
“Alex? No,” Byron laughed. “Alex never threatened us.”
“Then I still don’t understand,” Thistle pressed.
“Our daughter and Alex’s son is a different story,” Lillian said.
“He threatened you?”
“Not exactly,” Lillian said. “It’s more like he used some of our property, this boat for example, as a way to get involved with his father’s business.”
Realization finally dinged in my foggy brain. “He used your boat to run drugs between Canada and the U.S.”
Lillian pursed her lips and nodded. “We didn’t know,” she said hurriedly. “Not until we got on the boat to leave.”
“We knew that he was hiding stuff in our house,” Byron said. “We found bags of powder and pills hidden in our basement.”
“What did you do?”
“We told him, if he did anything like that again, that we would call the police,” Byron replied.
“And how did he take that?” I asked.
“Not well,” Byron said. “He said, if we even thought of calling the police, he would kill us.”
“Your grandson threatened to kill you?” I asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell his father?”
“Well, you see, we found out he wasn’t running drugs for his father,” Lillian said. “He was running drugs for one of his father’s rivals. If we told Alex, there’s a good chance that our grandson would have been killed.”
It was like a soap opera, for crying out loud.
“So you decided to take yourselves out of the equation,” Thistle said sympathetically.
“Pretty much,” Byron agreed.
“So what went wrong?” I asked.
“When we took out the boat, our plan was to abandon it in the water and then pick up a new life in a new state,” Lillian said. “We had a bag of fake blood to leave on the deck and we had made arrangements for another boat to pick us up in the channel and a vehicle waiting for us in town. We figured we would be long gone before anyone found out we were even missing.”
Thistle and I both waited for Lillian to finish the story.
“We found something on the boat, though.”
“Drugs,” I supplied.
“Drugs,” Lillian nodded. “Apparently, our grandson had left his latest delivery on our boat and he wasn’t exactly happy about us taking our boat. We knew he would be following us, but we didn’t realize how close he was.”
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Byron said. “He’s staying at your inn, in fact.”
Thistle’s eyebrows nearly shot off her head. “It’s Sludge, isn’t it?”
“No,” Byron shook his head quickly. “Those boys are innocent. They’re just here for the snow.”
“That leaves Brian,” Thistle said dubiously. “We know who his family is.”
“You’re forgetting someone,” I said.
“Who?”
“Trevor.”
Tears flooded Lillian’s eyes. “Yes, Trevor is our grandson.”
“Why didn’t you just give him the boat and continue on with your plan?” Thistle asked.
“He doesn’t just want the boat,” Lillian said. “He wants what was on the boat. He’s been following us around for days and demanding that we return his property.”
“The drugs,” I said. “Where are the drugs? Did he take them from you?”
“No,” Byron said. “We hid them.”
“At the Dragonfly?” Thistle looked really confused right now. I didn’t blame her.
“What’s the Dragonfly?” Now Lillian looked confused.
“It’s a burned out inn down Maple Road,” Thistle said.
“I don’t know about anything about another inn,” Lillian said. “Besides, Trevor doesn’t have the drugs. He doesn’t have any idea where we hid the drugs.”
“Where did you hide the drugs?” I asked the question, even though I didn’t want to hear the answer I knew in my heart was coming.
“In the basement of your mothers’ inn,” Byron admitted. “In the room your Aunt Tillie has been brewing her special wine.”
Crap, crap, crap!
Thirty-Four
“Let me get this straight,” Thistle pursed her lips dangerously. “You’re running from your murderous thug grandson and you stole his drugs and hid them in my mom’s inn?”
Lillian looked uncomfortable. “Well, we didn’t know what else to do.”
“How about going to the police?”
“We didn’t want to go to jail ourselves.”
“Sonofabitch,” I swore. “We have to get back out to the inn.”
“Why?” Thistle looked confused.
“Because I think that’s where Trevor went.”
Thistle and I both swung to leave the cabin of the yacht and froze when we saw Aunt Tillie on the bottom step. The set of her jaw was grim, and she looked like she wanted to kill someone. My guess was that Byron and Lillian were at the top of that list – right next to their delinquent grandson.
“How much did you hear?”
“Most of it,” Clove supplied from her spot behind Aunt Tillie.
“We have to get back out to the inn,” I said to Aunt Tillie, forcefully shaking her out of her murderous reverie. “I think Trevor is out at the inn now looking for his drugs and if our moms get in the way . . .”
“He’ll kill them,” Aunt Tillie said. She was succinct in her determination but she wasn’t moving. I was starting to wonder if she was in shock.
“So we need to get going,” Thistle took a step forward.
Aunt Tillie ignored her. She was staring down Lillian and Byron like they were flies and she was the swatter. “How dare you,” she finally gritted out. “How dare you bring drugs into my home.”
Lillian and Byron looked properly abashed, while Thistle and I exchanged wary glances behind Aunt Tillie’s back. That was pretty rich from a woman that cultivated her own pot field on a yearly basis.
“We didn’t know what else to do,” Lillian shrugged helplessly.
“So you were just going to run again and leave us with the cleanup?”
Now that was a pretty good question.
“We figured, once he knew we were gone, that Trevor would follow us again. We just needed a head start.”
“You just thought he’d abandon his box of drugs?” Clove didn’t look like she believed the statement.
“We didn’t know,” Lillian admitted. “And it’s a big bag, not a box.”
“Cripes, we can’t stay here any longer,” I said irritably. “We have to get back out to the inn.”
“You should call Landon,” Thistle said quietly. “Maybe he and Chief Terry can get out there faster than us.”
I paused at the suggestion and turned to Aunt Tillie, a question in my eyes. “What do you think?”
Aunt Tillie finally turned to me, seeing me for the first time since she’d entered the boat’s cabin. “Call them,” she said finally. “We’re going out there, too. Thistle, go get my plow truck.”
“Wait,” I grabbed Thistle’s arm. “If Trevor is there, he’ll see – and hear – that truck coming from a mile away.”
“So?” Thistle looked confused. “Isn’t that what we want?”
“Not if it’s going to set him on edge,” Aunt Tillie said sagely. “He’s already teetering. We saw that this morning when he jumped on Brian.”
“You weren’t even outside,” I pointed out.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I see all and know all.”
“Whatever,” Thistle grumbled. “She’s right, though, we can’t send him over the edge.”
“How do we know what they’re telling us is true?” Clove piped in. “Maybe they’re the drug dealers?” She still didn’t want to give up hope on Trevor, that much was obvious.
“They’re money launderers,” I said firmly. “They’re not drug dealers.”
/> “We don’t have time to deal with your crap right now,” Thistle interjected angrily. “We have to get out to the inn. We’re going to take the snowmobiles.”
I turned to her in surprise. “We are?”
“We can sneak up to the back of the inn that way,” Thistle said. “They’re already gassed up.”
I tilted my head to the side, considering. “Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s go. I’ll call Landon and Chief Terry on our way back to the stables.”
We started to climb the steps. When we got to the deck above, Aunt Tillie paused.
“What are you doing?” Clove turned around to watch Aunt Tillie.
“I’m not letting them escape, that’s for sure,” Aunt Tillie said, placing her hand on the deck. I could hear her muttering under her breath. I was sure it was a spell, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Suddenly, a light pulsed under Aunt Tillie’s hands and coursed over the yacht quickly and then diminished.
“What was that?” Thistle asked suspiciously.
“Just a little bit of insurance,” Aunt Tillie said primly, holding out her hand expectantly so Thistle could help her climb down safely from the boat deck to the dock.
Clove and I followed. When we were all standing together, I turned to Aunt Tillie. “What’s going to happen to them if they try to leave?”
“Nothing good,” Aunt Tillie huffed. “Let’s just leave it at that, for now.”
“Are they trapped on the boat?” I was still unsure we should leave the older couple to their own devices. I had visions of returning to the boat later and finding them gone – even if they couldn’t take the boat.
“They’re not leaving and the boat is staying here,” Aunt Tillie said angrily. “I know what I’m doing.”
“No one said you didn’t,” Clove said calmly.
“She just did,” Aunt Tillie gestured in my direction.
“I did not.”
“You did, too.”
“Whatever, let’s go.” Arguing with Aunt Tillie has all the appeal as beating your head against a wall – and the outcome is never as good.
We raced back towards the stable – and by raced, I mean walked briskly. Aunt Tillie is spry for a woman in her eighties, but she has limitations. I used the time to call Landon’s cell phone. Unfortunately, it went straight to voicemail. I left him a message, telling him as much as I could, and then disconnected.
“I think we’re on our own,” I said.
“Good,” Aunt Tillie said. “There will be fewer witnesses.”
Thistle and I exchanged worried glances. That wasn’t a good sign.
Marcus had the snowmobiles gassed up and waiting. Thistle climbed on to one of them, with Clove sliding in behind her wordlessly. Unfortunately for me, Aunt Tillie had already slid into the driver’s seat of the other snowmobile.
“I’m driving,” I told her hurriedly.
“I’m already settled,” Aunt Tillie argued. “I’ll drive.”
“Just slide back.”
“You just sit behind me.”
“I said I’m driving.”
“I’m driving.”
“You don’t see all that well when you’re on a road,” I reminded her. “We’re going to be riding through a lot of trees. We need to get out there fast.”
“Fine,” Aunt Tillie huffed, sliding back reluctantly. “I won’t forget this, though.”
“Fine,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “You can punish me later.”
“I will, don’t you worry.”
We set a brisk pace to get back out to The Overlook. I let Thistle lead while I contemplated what we would find when we got out there. I could only hope that Trevor was still trying to hide his real identity, which meant he was searching the inn under the guise of being a handyman. If he was becoming too desperate, though, I didn’t doubt he would kill anyone that got in his way.
It took us almost a half an hour to get back out to The Overlook. Thistle wisely parked at the back of the inn and killed the snowmobile engine quickly. I followed suit.
“How do you think we should handle this?” Thistle asked, her face flushed from the sharp breeze that had accompanied the long ride back out to the inn. It was so red, it almost matched her windblown hair.
“Let’s split up,” I said finally. “I’ll take Aunt Tillie in through the back door and you and Clove try to go through the front door. At least that way, we won’t all be caught at the same time.”
Thistle nodded and then looked around blankly. “Where is Aunt Tillie?”
I looked back towards the snowmobile, expecting to see her but finding an empty seat instead. I looked up towards the inn and found that the back door was already standing open – and Aunt Tillie was nowhere in sight.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I growled.
I started towards the back door angrily. I was surprised to find Thistle and Clove close on my heels. “I thought you were going out front?”
“That was before Aunt Tillie went vigilante,” Thistle said. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
I sighed, shrugging off my irritation with Aunt Tillie. “We don’t have a lot of choice now,” I agreed. “Let’s go.”
We slipped into the family living quarters through the door Aunt Tillie had left open. The room was empty, meaning that Aunt Tillie had already made her way further into the inn. Clove shut the door behind us, taking care to be as quiet as possible. The three of us shrugged out of our heavy coats, but kept our boots on – just in case.
Thistle and Clove took a few seconds to look into the family bedrooms and then came back into the living room. Thistle shook her head to indicate that the bedrooms had been empty. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it filled my heart with dread.
I led the way into the kitchen, glancing at Aunt Tillie’s empty recliner momentarily, and then continued through the room. I paused at the swinging door that led to the dining room and pressed my head against the door to see if I could hear anything. There was nothing, though. That didn’t have to be ominous, I knew that deep down. The inn should have been empty, except for our moms, with the hipsters out snowboarding and the Byron and Lillian on their boat. Still, though, the silence of the usually bustling inn was oppressive.
I took a deep breath and swung the dining room door open and glanced around the room. It was empty, too.
The three of us stepped into the dining room, Thistle sliding around the room – sticking close to the outer wall – and heading towards the archway that opened into the main hallway of the inn. Clove and I followed instinctively.
When we still didn’t hear anything, we continued moving through the inn. The main hallway branched off into three directions: the main office, the main foyer and the small alcove at the bottom of the grand staircase.
We each took a different direction. Thistle peeked into the foyer, glanced around and then turned back. Nothing. Clove glanced into the staircase alcove and then shook her head. That left the office. I took a deep breath and turned the door handle. It turned easily and I pushed the door open.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I found. My mom, Marnie and Twila were all sitting, silently, in different chairs in the room. None of them were moving, but they all appeared to be fine. I pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped into the office irritably. “What are you guys doing?”
My mom turned to me, fear etched on her face. I knew then. I knew. I opened my mouth to warn Thistle and Clove to stay out of the room, but it was too late. They were right behind me, moving towards their moms with twin expressions of concern marring their features. The office door slammed shut behind us quickly, causing all three of us to spin around in surprise.
Trevor was standing there, previously hidden by the door I had opened – and he wasn’t alone. He had a big knife in one hand – the butcher knife from the kitchen, in fact – and he had his other arm wrapped around Aunt Tillie, with a hand clamped over her mouth.
“Thank you for joining us,” Trevor said
evenly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Thirty-Five
Aunt Tillie was fighting Trevor furiously. Unfortunately, he had more than two feet and a hundred pounds of muscle to make sure that he had the advantage. Of course, he didn’t know about her special gifts, either.
“Let her go,” I said coldly, meeting Trevor’s frigid eyes evenly.
“Sit down,” Trevor countered.
“Let her go first.”
“Sit down first.”
“Let her go,” Twila screamed anxiously.
Thistle shot her mother a murderous look. “Calm down,” she hissed.
“She’s an old woman,” Twila blubbered. “He’s going to hurt her.”
That was a definite possibility, I reasoned. It was also a possibility that she would skin him alive and leave the carcass for us to clean up.
Trevor didn’t seem moved by Twila’s pleas. “Then she’s lived a long life.”
I realized, pretty quickly, that I had to get control of this situation. “What do you want, Trevor? You want your drugs?”
Trevor didn’t flinch at the question, but the slight narrowing of his eyes told me that he was surprised I had the guts to ask it. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I was going with a good thing.
“Yeah,” I continued blithely. “We talked to your grandparents.”
“His grandparents?” My mom looked confused.
“Yeah, Lillian and Byron Hobbes,” I continued, trying to keep Trevor’s attention fixed on me.
“The Canadian couple from the boat?” Marnie asked, her eyes never moving from Trevor and Aunt Tillie.
“You know them as the Bakers,” Clove supplied.
“The Bakers? How is that possible?”
“They had false identities made up,” I said smoothly. “They were running from their family in Canada. They hoped to make a new life for themselves.”
“They’ve been chatty, I see,” Trevor grimaced.
“They were honest,” I countered. “They told us everything, though. They told us about the money laundering. And they told us about your father and his ties to the mob.”
“I didn’t even know there was a Canadian mob,” Thistle admitted. “It was an illuminating discussion, though.”
Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) Page 22
