Witch of Mintwood Mysteries 7-9

by Addison Creek

  “I’m going to need the kitchen to myself tonight,” she said rather ruefully, having finally woken up all the way.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “If I can help, let me know. Meanwhile, I’m heading out soon anyhow, since Ms. Ivy wants me to stop by and get programs for the fair and take them to the Mintwood Print Shop.”

  Greer nodded absently; she had fetched her cookbooks and was scanning pie recipes. “I don’t suppose I should attempt that blueberry pie?” she asked.

  When I blanched, she chuckled. “Probably not. I don’t think anyone else would take turning blue so well.”

  She hummed along to herself as she continued to browse through her recipes. For the contest she had to make three types of pie, one for each day of the fair. Everyone saved their most special pie for the last day.

  “Seen Jasper today? You know, since he’s your boyfriend?” Greer asked as she pulled out a faded piece of yellow paper.

  “Maybe,” I said weakly.

  “I don’t get it. He should at least want to hear what you have to say about being a witch,” said Greer.

  “He doesn’t,” I confirmed. “He thinks I’m the worst.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question of whether you’ve seen him,” said my friend, looking up for the first time and actually focusing on me.

  Something in my face must have tipped her off, because she looked triumphant. “Ah ha! You have seen him! Where?”

  There was no point in lying. “At the barn today. I stopped by.”

  “Did he talk to you? Tell me you didn’t stay,” Greer groaned. “Deacon and I really wish you two would figure all of this out. I know you can’t very well explain everything when you’re turning your skin blue, but still.”

  “I’m trying,” I said stiffly.

  I still felt foolish for thinking that the likes of Jasper Wolf, homecoming king and perpetual golden boy, would be even a little bit interested in me. In fact, now that I’d told him a little thing like the fact that I had magic powers and his family had hunted people like me for generations, he really should have been running in the opposite direction.

  “I jumped behind a tree and then ran away,” I confessed.

  “Smooth,” Greer confirmed dryly.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. “I had the strangest sensation that he was in danger, though. I don’t know what came over me, but I was sure something was going to happen.”

  “You were probably just nervous because of the baking competition,” said Greer.

  “No, that’d be you,” I said, laughing.

  “Oh, right,” Greer grinned.

  “You’ll be great,” I told her. It was true, and she needed to hear it.

  “I don’t know about that,” said Greer, biting her lip. “Anyway, why’d you leave the barn without telling Jasper about the feeling of danger?”

  “He wouldn’t have believed me anyway. I can say only so many shocking things to him at once. I think telling him I’m a witch is it for a while,” I said. I felt miserable, but I was sure it was true. I didn’t even bother mentioning that his grandfather had been there.

  Now what I thought was: I should have tried to tell him sooner about being a witch. I didn’t know when, between going to five star resorts and solving murders, but I felt sure I could have found the time. The truth was that I hadn’t wanted to tell Jasper. I wanted to be Lemmi without all the witchy ghosty trouble stuff.

  “You have to tell Jasper that he’s in danger,” said Greer.

  “You’re right. But I was probably just making it up,” I said meekly.

  “What if you weren’t?” countered my friend.

  “No idea,” I told her. “I’ll think of something.”

  Something that doesn’t involve having to speak face-to-face with Jasper Wolf about being a witch, I added.

  But only to myself.

  “You going to Ms. Ivy’s now?” Greer said.

  I told her I was. We both agreed to have a good day.

  The Mintwood Print Shop was located down a little dirt road that I had only ever been on once, long ago in high school. Like so many high school projects that sound fun, that one had turned out to be a disaster, but the failure hadn’t been Mrs. Tootsie’s fault. She was in fact a very pleasant woman, and she’d been running the shop for years.

  She was also the second of the three pie contest judges, Mrs. Tolls having been the first.

  The third was Mrs. Stone, who ran her own basket-making business.

  Mrs. Tootsie’s husband had died years ago, so she lived in the house by herself and used a converted garage for the print shop. Driving up, I remembered how she’d waved so merrily to me the other day, and I wondered what that had been about, if anything more than just Mintwood friendliness.

  The house looked quiet as I pulled up, but the print shop’s door was open.

  That seemed a bit odd, especially since the shop itself looked dark, but I figured Mrs. Tootsie must have opened the door to let in the summer breeze.

  I got out of the car, picked up the proofs of Ms. Ivy’s brochures, and headed for the shop.

  The closer I got to the building, the more I sensed that something was in fact wrong; there was just a weird feeling about the place.

  I pushed the door to the print shop open the rest of the way with a sinking feeling that I already knew what I was going to find.

  And in the dim light I found it: a woman’s body slumped over the desk, her gray hair all askew.

  There was no point in going up to her. I could tell that she was dead from across the room.

  Mintwood had suffered yet another murder.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I can’t believe you left your wand at home!”

  Paws was beside himself. So, his usual state. He was pacing back and forth angrily on his crate out front, apparently his way of greeting me after I’d had an upsettingly stressful experience.

  We appeared to be the only ones home, where I had arrived after Detective Cutter had threatened—but only threatened—to take me to the police station and question me there.

  Fortunately, no one else had thought that was necessary. Even so, most of the day had gone by before I was able to get away and come home, and by now it was early evening.

  “Did you at least use the recall spell?” demanded Paws.

  That was a spell that would bring up forgotten images and maybe give me an idea of what had happened.

  I shook my head. “The blood was too much,” I explained.

  “Was she bleeding?” the cat asked sharply.

  “Not that I saw, but I imagined there was blood,” I muttered.

  The cat sniffed his disdain. “Then how do you know she was murdered?” he said.

  “The cookie smelled weird,” I said.

  “What cookie?”

  “The one next to her plate. I went into the room and there was cold tea and a half-eaten cookie. The whole room smelled strange,” I repeated. That was the best way I could describe it.

  “The case of the half eaten cookie. Maybe you’re investigating the wrong event,” the cat mused.

  “The fair starts tomorrow, and two of the three judges have died,” I said. “That’s not good.”

  “Then whoever they get to replace the judges—those will be the prime suspects. All that power, all that influence.” Paws shook his head.

  “Yeah, at the Mintwood Summer Fair,” I said dryly.

  “You underestimate pie at your peril,” said the cat.

  “That’s not the only thing I do at my peril,” I muttered.

  “Did you notice anything else?” the cat asked.

  I shook my head.

  “The ghost won’t appear until tonight. You’ll have to go back,” he explained.

  “But the police took the body away,” I argued. “Don’t you think I should break into the morgue?”

  “No, if the ghost wasn’t there when you got there, it means she went into hiding. She’ll be able to hide at home for a little while. Y
ou have to find her,” said Paws.

  Just then there was a squealing of tires, and Charlie’s Subaru darted into the drive from around the corner and came to a halt in a hail of dirt and pebbles. Before the car had fully stopped moving, the door was flung open and Charlie Silver, reporter extraordinaire, was hauling herself out.

  She saw me on the porch as she came marching over. Her face was scrunched together and she looked like she was going to follow Paws’ example and start yelling. Her white button shirt was untucked and strands of her hair were sticking out at odd angles.

  “You found a BODY!” she cried. “I’m in desperate need of a story and you don’t call me first!”

  “I called you right after I called the police,” I argued. “I called you second!”

  “No one remembers second,” cried Charlie.

  Greer came out of the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about. She had a streak of flour on her cheek and was drying her hands on a dish towel.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

  “No, everything is NOT okay! Lemmi is trying to sabotage my career.”

  “What are you talking about?” I groaned.

  “Can’t you wait until next week? I’m very busy baking pies this week,” Greer said to me with a grin.

  I smiled back, but Charlie was having none of this joking around.

  “She called the police first after she found the body of Mrs. Tootsie.”

  “What?” Greer gasped. Like me, she didn’t really know Mrs. Tootsie, but she’d heard of her. “Another murder?”

  “Looks like it,” I said grimly.

  “I’d call Hansen Gregory first too. He does less yelling,” said Greer.

  Charlie’s mouth fell open, but no words came out.

  “Who knew that’d shut her up!” Greer feigned a look of surprise.

  “Traitors! You don’t support my work! I’m going to get fired,” fumed Charlie.

  “Lemmi can’t break the law just because you want a story. Besides, this morning the only thing that was going to happen was that you were going to lose out on being the author of some of the day’s news.”

  “Where’s Mrs. Tootsie’s ghost?” Charlie demanded. “You can make it up to me if we go find her ghost!”

  “That’s just what Lemmi was about to do,” Paws put in helpfully.

  “Go catch a mouse,” I muttered at the cat.

  One of the ghost mice suddenly appeared through a crack in the porch floorboard and glared at me.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “You tell her,” said Charlie to the mouse.

  “You’re in cahoots with the ghosts now?” I asked her.

  “At least someone’s on my side,” said Charlie.

  I shook my head. “Yes, I’m going to find Mrs. Tootsie’s ghost. I found her body, so it’s only fair. But there are probably police at the house right now, which complicates matters.”

  “I think they have someone stationed down the road,” said Charlie, softening. “They won’t expect anyone to go through the woods, although the officer probably does check the house from time to time.”

  “Great, let me grab something to eat and then I’ll be ready to go,” I said.

  “I just have to change,” said Charlie.

  “Me too,” said Greer. “The pie is just about ready to come out of the oven and I need a break anyway.

  “She’s been making such a racket,” said Paws. “You’d think she couldn’t bake at all. I hope you’re planning on taking your wand this time!”

  “What’s going on?” A melodic voice from the other side of the porch caused Paws to freeze mid-rant. His eyes went wide and he looked terrified as Honolulu came around the corner and hopped gracefully up the stairs.

  “How is everyone?” she asked. “Beautiful night.”

  “They were just leaving,” said Paws. “Humans.”

  “Oh, no. I was hoping that Lemmi had some word on dear Tabitha,” said Honolulu, looking terribly disappointed.

  Paws rushed to the other cat’s side.

  “Lemmi doesn’t, but I do,” said Charlie. “If Lemmi hadn’t been so busy making more trouble, she would have heard that they think the body is indeed Tabitha Tolls. They got a rush on some dental records, and it wasn’t difficult to go from there. Plus, she was wearing the shoes that everyone remembers Tabitha wearing. Everyone is shocked.”

  “Yes, when she died and Mrs. Cook came looking for her I thought for sure she’d be found quickly, but I guess not. Her house just stood empty for so long. Do you know what started the fire?”

  “They think it was an accident, maybe something wrong with the wiring or the gas. I haven’t heard exactly what, but they don’t think it was set intentionally.

  “Why would it be, as long as the house was standing empty and no one had discovered the murder?” I mused.

  “Someone is killing the judges of the Mintwood Summer Fair. We have to find out who, before there’s another murder,” said Charlie.

  Chapter Twelve

  Greer and Charlie put on their customary black clothing, which they always wore for sneaking around. Greer took another pie out of the oven and it was all Charlie and I could do not to eat the whole thing immediately.

  “Rhubarb pie! The best,” Charlie breathed in appreciatively. She seemed to have forgiven me, at least a little, after I told her we were going out to search for the ghost of Mrs. Tootsie.

  While they changed, I went inside to wash up, with Jasper still on my mind. If he was in danger I should really tell him so, but how? Maybe at the fair. If he was there this weekend, at least he’d be safe for the moment.

  “Ready?” Greer asked, pulling a black hat over her dark hair.

  “Yup,” I said.

  “Me too,” Charlie said, coming out of her room.

  We were quiet on the drive except for Paws, who hadn’t wanted to come.

  “What if Honolulu is afraid to be there without me?” he asked.

  “She’ll be fine. She’s a ghost,” I said.

  “The dark is scary,” the cat insisted.

  “You think she’s cute, don’t you?” Charlie asked.

  “Cute is for amateurs. She’s the most gorgeous creature in the history of gorgeous creatures, but I’m a professional,” said Paws, straightening his shoulders.

  “A professional what?” I asked.

  The cat didn’t answer.

  “Pull over here,” Greer said, pointing to a long open stretch of road that led to several dirt roads we might be able to use as we searched.

  The Beetle being small, I was able to pull over and get it far enough off the road so that it would be difficult to see if someone was driving past. An overhang of trees covered the side of the vehicle nicely.

  We all hopped out.

  “How far a walk is it?” Charlie asked.

  “Not too far,” said Greer, pointing toward the woods. “It’s this way.”

  We trudged into the thick underbrush at the spot Greer had indicated.

  “How do you know where we’re going?” Charlie asked.

  “My parents had a summer house out this way. We spent all our time in these woods growing up,” said Greer. I figured she meant herself and her twin brothers, Devin and Derek.

  “Who would be killing off the judges, anyhow?” I asked. “It’s just a baking competition.”

  “That Mrs. Barb definitely looked capable of murder,” said Charlie.

  I couldn’t argue with that. The nasty-looking woman from Caedmon looked capable of anything, especially if her pies were involved.

  “But Tabitha was murdered almost a year ago,” I said, “right after last year’s fair.”

  “True,” said Greer, frowning. “Why would someone wait almost a whole year to kill again if they wanted control of the judging panel at the fair?”

  “I’m not sure we should assume that the fair has anything to do with it,” said Charlie. “Besides, it seems pretty likely that it was Mrs. Stone,
given that she’s the only one left.”

  No one had anything to say to that. I was privately skeptical. We needed proof, and we didn’t have it yet.

  “You’d think I’d be used to this whole breaking and entering thing by now,” Greer muttered as we made our way through the woods.

  “We’ve broken into a few places and thought about some others. All for the greater good, of course,” mused Charlie.

  We had searched the woods for ghost dress designers, paddled out onto the lake in boats, and climbed mountains. But we had never before gone to the home of someone who had been freshly murdered.

  “Poor Mrs. Tootsie,” said Charlie. “The article I drafted about her didn’t have as much information as I’d have liked. She has family in the southern part of the state, and of course they were notified and are devastated.”

  “There’s the house,” Greer whispered.

  All I could see were lumps of black through the trees. “Where?” I asked.

  “Right there,” Greer pointed again. Now I could just make out the outline of a building.

  “What is it you’re looking for?” a voice asked from behind us.

  The voice startled me, and it was all I could do not to jump and cry out.

  “Don’t sneak up on someone like that!” Paws scolded the ghost deer, a delicate doe that reminded me a bit of Honolulu.

  Through the trees I could make out other ghost deer moving away from us, weaving in and out of the trees.

  “We’re looking for a new ghost,” I explained.

  The deer inclined her head. “You’re the Witch of Mintwood. I can see the magic all around you.”

  “What is this, a gawking contest? She’s not on display,” said Paws irritably.

  “Be nice,” I scolded the cat. “You’ll have to excuse him,” I said, turning to the deer. “We tried to teach him manners but it didn’t take.”

  The deer laughed softly.