“Well that seems plausible – or not,” I sighed. “And she killed people?”
“She didn’t kill people,” Clove interjected. “Most of the people were fine. There were only like twelve that had to go to the hospital – and most of them were out within a few days.”
“And she wasn’t arrested for this?”
“The chief let it slide when your mom asked him to,” Clove admitted.
The chief had always had a crush on my mom. Actually, I think he had a crush on Marnie and Twila, too. It all depended on who brought him baked goods that week. “Is that why they still take him cookies and pie every week?”
“Probably.”
“Does everyone in town know she did that?”
“I don’t think they know,” Thistle said. “I think they just suspect. They can’t prove anything.”
“Well great, that makes it all better.”
“Don’t be sarcastic,” Thistle chastised me. “People hardly remember it anymore, especially since she held the autumnal equinox celebration in the buff last year. That hurt a lot more people than the belladonna incident did.”
I shuddered involuntarily. Yeah, I was one of those people.
The next day, I was still irritated by the fact that my whole family had conspired to keep a secret from me. Thistle and Clove could tell I was bothered when they handed me my usual cup of coffee in the morning.
“Just let it go,” Thistle warned me. “You’re not going to get anywhere if you confront everyone and pull a . . . well a you.”
Why does everyone keep saying that?
Instead of going to the office, I decided to go straight to the new corn maze on the north side of town at Harrow Bluff. It was opening today and it would be one of the front-page stories in next week’s edition of The Whistler. It’s a small town. Sue me. A new corn maze is the height of sophistication and interest in Hemlock Cove.
Since it was a corn maze, I dressed in comfortable jeans and a simple top. That’s the one good thing about working in a small town – and being the editor – you can get away with dressing any way you want to.
It took me about ten minutes to get out to the corn maze – and I was surprised to see that there was already a crowd milling about. Only in Hemlock Cove can a ribbon cutting for a corn maze draw half the town.
I parked next to the rest of the assembled vehicles, grabbed a notebook from the glove compartment and exited my car.
I ran into several people I knew – most weren’t openly hostile to me – and I smiled at them pleasantly. I reminded myself I didn’t care what they thought. Oh, who am I kidding, no one likes being feared – unless you’re Stalin or something. I just didn’t feel the sudden urge to cry like I did when I was a teenager.
I made my way up to the concession stand and helped myself to a cup of free cider and listened as a couple of townspeople chatted amiably.
“This is just great,” one of them said. “I love seeing everyone come out to these types of things.”
“It’s so great,” the other woman enthused.
I saw them both fix their gaze on me. “It’s even nice that the press managed to come out and report on something good for a change.”
“When do I report on something bad? Nothing bad ever happens here?”
The women didn’t answer me. Instead, they shuffled away. I could hear hints of whispers as they left. I could only imagine what they were saying. One of the wicked witches of the Midwest was here and she wasn’t to be trusted.
I didn’t have long to consider it, though, because my attention was suddenly diverted elsewhere. There were loud, raucous voices emanating from the far side of the corn maze. I couldn’t tell who was speaking – but the voices were definitely raised. I saw two elderly women hurry from that end of the corn maze, and they both looked disturbed.
“What’s going on?” I asked curiously.
“Hoodlums,” one of the women muttered. “Hoodlums.”
I wandered around the corner of the maze and was surprised by what I found. There were four men standing there with open beers in their hands. A couple of them were idly leaning against ornate motorcycles. The men themselves weren’t easily recognizable – what with all the leather they were clad in. I realized pretty quickly that they looked like some sort of gang from a bad movie.
One of the men looked to be in his mid-fifties – and he was clearly the leader of the little rabble. He was dressed in denim pants, a white T-shirt and a leather jacket that looked to be older than I was. He also had on leather motorcycle chaps over the jeans. He looked like a walking mid-life crisis.
The other men were dressed similarly and I could see that skulls and crossbones were emblazoned across the back of the jackets. This would be normal in a city setting – but I’d never seen anyone dressed like this around Hemlock Cove. The fact that they were all drinking was even more curious. I’m sure there are people that drink at 9 a.m. in town – they just don’t do it in a public setting.
What the hell?
The men saw me looking at them and turned to face me curiously. “Can I help you?” The ringleader asked.
He was obviously trying to be intimidating. It didn’t work on me. I was doubtful they’d do something to me with the entire town in attendance. “Who are you?”
The ringleader looked me up and down and smiled slyly. “The man of you dreams?”
“You don’t look like Chris Hemsworth to me.” I always think before I speak. I can’t help it. It’s a family trait.
“Who is Chris Hemsworth?” One of the sidekicks asked the question, but I didn’t turn my attention from the ringleader.
“He’s Thor.”
I turned to see who had spoken, only to find another leather-clad figure moving towards me. Despite being dressed like his cohorts, he was somehow different. I could tell immediately. He had long black hair, which fell just below his shoulders, and his skin was rich and tan. While his face was sculpted with some very appealing angles, his eyes were his most striking feature. They were ice blue and piercing. I felt a shock pulse through me when my gaze met his. I just couldn’t figure out why.
“Who are you guys?”
“Who are you?” The newcomer joined his friends, but his gaze never left my face.
“My name is Bay Winchester. I’m the editor at The Whistler.”
“The newspaper?”
I nodded mutely, swallowing hard. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the newcomer. He was only about 6’1” tall – but he seemed to suck all the air out of the field with a very large presence.
“Why are you here?”
“To cover the opening of the corn maze,” I found my voice, but it sounded alien to my own ears. Almost hollow.
“This is news?” The newcomer’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He was clearly amused.
“It is in Hemlock Cove.”
The newcomer seemed to consider that for a second. Then he extended his hand to me in greeting. “Well, Bay Winchester, I’m Landon.”
I shook his hand nervously. I still couldn’t figure out why they were here.
Landon proceeded to introduce his friends. I rolled my eyes when he pointed at Diesel and Gunner in turn. I’m betting those weren’t their given names. They were probably really known as Norman and Myron. When he got to the ringleader, though, I forced my attention to him. “This is Russ.”
I nodded warily at Russ, who was still mentally undressing me with his eyes. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” I prodded.
“Just wanted to see what all the hoopla was about,” Landon shrugged, accepting a beer from one of his friends and popping the top off it.
I narrowed my eyes when I saw Landon toss the beer cap onto the ground next to him. I stepped forward and picked up the beer cap and tossed it in the garbage can a few feet away. Landon smirked at my frown.
“Sorry,” he said simply. “We’ll try not to make a mess.”
“That would be great,” I said sarcastically.
> The initial shock – okay, rampant physical attraction – I had originally felt was starting to fade. The only thing I was feeling now was suspicion.
“Where are you from?”
“Around,” Landon said evasively.
“Around where?”
“A little bit of everywhere.”
“So, you’re from nowhere?” I raised my eyebrows confrontationally.
Landon chuckled to himself. “I guess you could say that.”
“Well, that’s great!”
“Something tells me you don’t actually think that’s great,” Landon smiled winningly.
“Perceptive.”
“Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here,” Landon started. Russ interrupted him, though.
“Why are you so interested in us?” His question was forceful. I could tell he was used to people quaking in fear at his presence.
“I’m interested in everyone that visits our quiet little town,” I lied.
“I don’t see you questioning everyone else here,” he said pointedly.
“I already know all of them.” Well, all the residents, at least. Tourists come and go. There was really no reason to get to know them.
“You want to know me? Is that what you’re saying? I’m flattered.”
I let my gaze lower to Russ’ extended beer gut – gross -- and then drew it back up to his eyes. “I’m just curious why you’re here.”
“We just wanted to see what all the excitement was about,” he said.
“And you brought beer?”
“It’s a party, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that kind of party.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t be so rigid if you had one yourself?” Russ grabbed a beer out of the container at his feet and handed it to me.
I took a step back involuntarily. I didn’t want him invading my personal space for some reason. “Thanks. I’m good. It’s a bit early for me.”
Russ shrugged as he slipped the beer back in the case. “Your loss.”
Even though I was still curious about what these guys were doing here, I noticed that the maze was now open and the crowd was starting to filter into it.
Landon noticed my attention drift.
“I have to go,” I said finally. “Welcome to Hemlock Cove – whatever it is that you’re doing here.”
“Have fun in the maze,” Landon smiled.
I didn’t answer him as I drifted off to the opening of the maze. Mrs. Little was standing at the opening when I got there. She’d been watching us – and she wasn’t happy by what she saw.
“Who are they?”
“They didn’t really say,” I admitted.
“They look unsavory.”
“They don’t seem to be doing anything,” I said noncommittally, even though I agreed with her.
“They’re drinking in the morning,” Mrs. Little said disapprovingly.
“Keep an eye on them,” I urged her.
“Oh, I will.” She started moving in their direction purposefully.
I couldn’t help but smirk to myself as I pictured the conversation Mrs. Little would have with the men. I hoped they had some knowledge about pewter unicorns. They may think they’re scary – but they didn’t know scary. All 5’2” of it was stomping its way towards them, though. They were about to find out.
I tried to put the men out of my mind – all of them – as I made my way into the maze. It really was well constructed, I mused to myself. Instead of just the simple walls of wilting corn, they had set up walls throughout the maze that were constructed of stacked hay bales. It forced visitors to stay on certain paths – and not cut through the corn and risk getting lost. They’d even put lights in all the corners so people could take twilight walks after dark. That was a nice touch. The tourists would love it.
The maze was about a mile long – and there were a lot of turns that took you absolutely nowhere. After about a half an hour, I’d only made it to the center of the maze.
I stopped to snap pictures with my iPhone camera as I took in the morbid tableau they’d set up in the center of the maze. There were a number of grotesque scarecrows – with one even being crucified on a cross in the center. I moved up to it, snapping a few pictures as I went.
When I looked up at the scarecrow, I couldn’t help but cringe.
“This thing is really realistic, isn’t it?”
I turned to find Emily, the woman from the inn the night before, standing beside me. “It’s gross,” I admitted.
Emily reached up to touch it and shrank back. “It feels so real.”
I turned my attention back to the scarecrow. Something just wasn’t right about it. I glanced around at the other scarecrows and frowned. They didn’t look anything like this one. This one had a weird Mardi Gras mask affixed to it. One of those ones with the colored eyes and long beak noses. The rest had simple bags with holes cut out for fake eyes. You could see the hay poking out beneath them.
Emily was equally transfixed as she regarded the scarecrow on the cross. She reached up and touched the Carhart glove on its hand.
I don’t know why I did it – even as I was doing it my mind was telling me to walk away – but I ignored the warning in my brain and reached over to strip the glove off. I was expecting to find it stuffed with straw – like the other scarecrows. Instead, I saw a real human hand – stained with blood – in its place.
For a second, I thought the screaming I was hearing was coming from my own mind. I realized, though, that it was Emily and she’d come to the same conclusion I had.
This wasn’t a fake scarecrow. It was a very real body.
Five
Emily’s screams drew a crowd quickly. Despite her horror fascination the night before, she was quickly devolving into rampant hysterics. I handed her off to one of the teenage boys working the maze who had come to see what all the fuss was about.
“Take her to the front of the maze and give her some cider to calm her down,” I instructed him. “Don’t let her leave, though.”
As he moved to walk away, I grabbed his wrist. “And call the chief,” I said in a low voice. “Get him out here right away.”
The boy looked at me questioningly. “Is that a real body?”
“Yes.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know. We can’t touch the body. That’s for the police to do.”
The boy swallowed hard and then determinedly grabbed Emily and dragged her from the center of the maze.
I corralled the other two teenage workers who had come to the scene – despite the fact that I felt like I could pass out at any minute -- and instructed them to cordon off the center of the maze. “Don’t let them wander in here. They’ll ruin the evidence,” I instructed.
Both boys listened to me without complaint. I think they were in shock.
Once the boys had moved everyone out of the center of the maze, I remained rooted to the ground. This wasn’t the first body I had ever seen. I saw plenty when I was covering the police beat in Detroit. I didn’t expect it in Hemlock Cove, though. Even in the rare cases where there was a murder around here – they usually almost always stemmed from domestic disturbances. They bodies never showed up in the middle of a corn maze.
Despite my initial surprise, I tried to get a good look at the body without getting too close. I didn’t want to ruin any evidence – although, if I had to guess, this would be a nightmare of a crime scene. People had been traipsing throughout the maze for the past half hour. Excluding suspects wasn’t going to be easy – especially for a police force that had absolutely no experience with murders like this.
The body – how anyone could have mistaken it for a scarecrow was beyond me – was hanging limply. As the temperatures started to climb, I saw that flies were starting to buzz around it. Still, given the fact that they were just arriving now, I figured the body couldn’t have been here all that long.
“Is that what I think it is?”
I jumped in surprise. I thought I’d be
en alone with only my thoughts to keep me company. I turned to find Landon had moved up beside me. His gaze was riveted on the grotesque scarecrow.
“What are you doing here? I told them to keep people out until the police arrived.” I was a little out of my element here. My conversation skills were taking a monumental hit.
“I just wanted to see if what everyone said was true,” Landon was staring at the body grimly.
“It’s a body,” I said simply. “I think it’s a male.”
“I think you’re right,” Landon agreed. “A young man would be my guess.”
I slid a gaze suspiciously in his direction. “You didn’t do this, did you?”
Landon frowned. “You think I killed him?”
“You guys showed up out of nowhere and now there’s a body. It’s convenient timing.”
“Do I look like a killer?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really know you well enough to say. You don’t look like you belong here, though.”
“Neither do you.”
What was that supposed to mean? “I grew up here.”
“You didn’t always live here, though, did you?”
“No. I lived in Detroit for a few years. How did you know that?”
“Everyone out there is freaking out because they’ve never seen a body before. You’re a little too calm.”
I didn’t tell him I was fighting not to lose my morning breakfast on the evidence in the area and further contaminate the scene. “I’m not calm. I’m composed. There’s a difference. This isn’t the first body I’ve seen, though.”
“You get a lot of bodies strung up in corn mazes?”
“That’s not what I said,” I protested vehemently. “I just said that I’ve seen other bodies before.”
“In Detroit?”
“Yes.”
Landon raised a hand and placed it reassuringly on my shoulder. “Well, you’re doing a good job of pretending to be in control.”
“Someone had to take charge,” I argued.
“I get the feeling you have to be in control, no matter what situation you find yourself in.”
I wasn’t sure, but I thought I’d probably been insulted. I didn’t get a chance to find out, though, because I could hear voices coming through the maze. I turned to see Chief Terry making his way through the remnants of the crowd that were still milling about the corridor. “Go out to the front of the maze,” he ordered. “My officers have some questions for you.”
Any Witch Way You Can Page 4
