“Do I have something on my face?” I instinctively wiped a finger down my cheek.
“Ignore her,” Landon suggested. “She gets her jollies unnerving people. But she usually prefers doing that to men.” He snapped his fingers in front of Tillie’s face, causing her to glare at him. “You’re making Charlie feel self-conscious.”
“Sorry.” Tillie sounded anything but sorry. “I didn’t mean to be rude. That’s clearly your job, copper.”
“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Landon muttered.
“Even more than ‘The Man?’” Laura asked. “You do look all man, by the way.”
Landon pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead as Bay shot Laura a menacing look and Thistle cracked her knuckles. The Winchester family was ridiculously odd – there was no getting around that – but something else was going on this morning, something I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around. They were all scattered and keen on poking one another with insults while covering up for something bigger.
“Either way, we’ll need a guide,” Chris said. “If you won’t lend us your girlfriend, do you have any suggestions for someone who knows the town well?”
“Look for Margaret Little.” Landon’s smile was enigmatic as Bay elbowed his ribs.
“Don’t look for Margaret Little,” Bay countered. “I can take you out there.”
“No, I don’t want you out there,” Landon’s voice became serious. “Bay, there’s either a killer or creature in those woods. Can’t you – I don’t know – spend your day in the newspaper office?”
“Not last time I checked.”
Landon sighed. “You give me a headache.”
“I think you should use Clove as your guide,” Thistle suggested. “She lives out there, and she’s a big fan of Bigfoot.”
“Shut up,” Clove snapped, jerking her foot against her cousin’s shin under the table, causing Thistle to cry out. “You suck.”
“And you’re a big baby,” Thistle shot back.
“You are a big baby, kvetch, but Thistle definitely sucks.” Tillie studied my group, her gaze lingering on me. “I can show you around the area.”
The offer clearly baffled the people who knew Tillie best, because Bay’s mouth dropped open and Landon looked as if he was searching for hidden cameras in the wall sconces.
Chris, focused on his camera, missed all of this. He was clearly great with the science, but terrible with people. “That’s great,” he said. “We’ll leave right after breakfast.”
Aunt Tillie’s smile was serene as she arched an eyebrow and practically dared Landon to cause a scene. “I’m looking forward to it.”
6
Six
Tillie Winchester was an enigma of sorts. She changed out of her gardening hat and back into her combat helmet for the drive to the Dandridge. She rode with Sam and Clove – which I think made everyone more comfortable – so we gossiped freely as we followed the vehicle. Only Jack, Chris and I opted to return to where the body was found. Everyone else followed up on other tasks.
“Does anyone else think the Winchesters are odd?” I asked.
Jack snorted from the driver’s seat. “Isn’t that like asking if the sky is blue?”
“I think they’re quirky but fine,” Chris replied. “If everyone acted the same it would be a very boring world, wouldn’t it?”
He had a point, still … . “They’re hiding something.” I don’t know what possessed me to say the words. I liked the Winchesters. No, really. That didn’t mean they weren’t keeping some big secrets, and I couldn’t help but worry that the secrets would impact the job we were in Hemlock Cove to do.
Instead of laughing, Jack shot me a keen look in the rearview mirror. “What do you think they’re hiding?”
“If I knew that they wouldn’t be hiding anything.”
“You must have something to pique your suspicion,” Jack argued. “What is it?”
“They all look at one another when they think no one is watching them.”
Jack snorted. “That’s the way families interact. They have in-jokes. That’s normal. Isn’t your family like that?”
My family was dead … at least those I knew about. “No.” I averted my gaze and stared out the window. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m overreacting.”
“But you don’t believe that.” Jack pursed his lips. “They seem fairly normal to me. Sure, that great-aunt is all sorts of eccentric, but I think it’s an act. The rest of the family seems used to it. Heck, the FBI agent didn’t even blink when he saw the scissors sticking out of that gardening hat.”
“No, but that’s part of what I’m saying,” I argued. “He wasn’t weirded out by the hat – which should weird out anyone – but he seemed agitated by the thought of her gardening. Why would anyone care if a little old lady gardens?”
“Maybe they’re worried about her health,” Chris offered from the passenger seat. “She is elderly, and it’s not quite warm enough for her to be gardening so early in the morning. Maybe she’s stubborn and refuses to take care of herself in the manner they would like.”
“I guess that’s a possibility.” I chewed my bottom lip, unconvinced.
“They don’t believe we’re looking for Bigfoot,” Jack pointed out.
“Technically we’re not,” Chris said, his fingers busy as they flew over his phone screen. “We’re looking for a hominid-like creature. I’m not a big fan of the Bigfoot name, as I’ve repeatedly told you. I think people use it in a joking manner, which I don’t like. I don’t mind Sasquatch, though. I have no idea why.”
I stared at him a moment, dumbfounded. “Is that really important right now?”
“I think using the correct names is always important.”
I shifted my eyes to the mirror and caught Jack’s reflection smirking. “Okay, but … we’re talking about the Winchesters and the fact that they don’t believe we’re looking for a creature.”
“I’m not sure we’re looking for a creature either,” Jack admitted. “Someone could’ve used the history of this place, that Dog Man legend, and made a murder look like an animal attack. I’d like to see the autopsy report.”
He parked in front of the Dandridge and hopped out of the Tahoe, catching me off guard when he opened the door for me before I even reached for the handle. It was a gentlemanly gesture, but I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Do you think they’ll tell us what’s in the autopsy report?” I asked, smoothing my top as I hit the ground. “They don’t have to, do they?”
“They don’t have to do anything they don’t want to do,” Jack replied. “They seem open to sharing information – even though you’re convinced they’re hiding something – but we can’t rely on them to make our case. That’s our job.”
“And it’s going to be a fun job.” Chris’ eyes lit up as he marched toward the path that led past the Dandridge. “Is everyone ready to see the impossible?”
I opened my mouth to answer, sliding a baffled gaze toward Jack. For his part, the security guru seemed amused by our boss’s enthusiasm. “He does know the odds of us actually seeing Bigfoot while out there today are slim, right?”
Jack shrugged. “I think he wants to see Bigfoot so bad he’ll will it to happen if he has to.”
“That’s a little … worrisome.”
Jack’s eyes were contemplative as he grabbed a bag of supplies from the back of the Tahoe. “Aren’t you desperate to see the impossible?”
I’d seen impossible things quite regularly since I was a small child. I found it more terrifying than freeing, quite frankly. “I didn’t join this group to see the impossible. I joined to … get answers.”
Jack tilted his head to the side, his long dark hair slipping past his shoulders. “What answers are you seeking?”
“Different kinds.”
“Uh-huh. Well … I hope you find them. You seem to desperately need them.”
“That would be a nice change of pace.”
“THIS I
S WHERE her body was found?” Tillie looked less than impressed when she saw the area the police had taped off the previous day.
Jack nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “It is. Does something strike you as funny about that?”
“Not funny,” Tillie replied, groaning as she dropped to her knees and stared at the blood. “Did she die here or was it made to look as if she died here?”
“I’m not a police officer,” Jack replied. “You’ll have to ask the chief … or the FBI agent you have living on your property. You don’t seem to like him, though.”
“Landon?” Tillie wrinkled her nose. “I like him fine.”
“You’re mean to him.”
“He’s mean to me right back.”
“Yes, but that’s why I figured you don’t like each other,” Jack pressed. “Most people who like each other are nicer to one another.”
“That’s not how any family I’ve been a part of operates,” Tillie countered. “Make no mistake, Landon is part of my family. He and Bay are in it for the long haul.”
“Are you okay with that?” I asked, ignoring the fact that it was none of my business how Tillie felt about her great-nieces’ loves.
“I’m fine with Landon, but Marcus is my favorite,” Tillie replied. “I’m growing to like Sam. I hated him at first, but he’s not so bad now. He’s exactly what Clove needs, so that makes me like him.”
“You like Marcus best even though you hate Thistle?” Jack challenged. I could tell that he was trying to get a read on Tillie, and coming up short. She was a hard woman to pin down.
“I don’t hate Thistle,” Tillie clarified. “I simply rarely like her.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No.” Tillie offered the one-word answer as if it was the end of the discussion and let loose another groan as she struggled to her feet. “She wasn’t killed here. I’m almost positive of that.”
“How do you know?” Chris asked, shifting his eyes from the camera he held to the elderly Winchester woman. “You don’t have a background in law enforcement, do you?”
“No, but I could totally be an FBI agent for a living if I wanted to work long hours for crap pay and boss people around for no good reason,” Tillie replied. “I’ve been around enough investigations since Landon came into our lives to recognize that this is a body dump, not a killing ground.”
“But why would a hominid-like creature kill a person in one area and move the body someplace else?”
Tillie stared at Chris as if he’d suddenly sprouted another head. “What’s a hominid-like creature? I’m not a bigot, by the way. If Bigfoot is gay and wants to dance the night away, I don’t care, so be careful how you answer.”
“Hominid,” I automatically corrected. “It means ape-like.”
“Oh.” Tillie scratched her chin. “Our creatures out here look like walking dogs, not apes.”
Instantly intrigued, Chris took a hurried step toward Tillie. “Have you seen it?”
“Sure.”
“What does it look like?”
“A mangy dog.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “You’ve seen this … Dog Man … yourself?”
“You’d be surprised at the things I’ve seen over the course of my life,” Tillie replied. “The Dog Man is only one of them. I’ve seen the Loch Ness Monster, too. Nessie was over in the Hollow Creek for a visit a good twenty years ago.”
“The Loch Ness monster?” I swallowed the urge to laugh because I didn’t think it would go over well. “How did it get here?”
“It swam.”
“But … it would’ve had to cross land at some point.”
“And the ocean,” Jack muttered.
“So what?” Tillie was clearly losing interest in the conversation. Either that or she didn’t like anyone calling her truthfulness into question. “I’ve seen the chupacabra, too.”
“Here?” For the first time, doubt crossed Chris’ face. “You saw the chupacabra in Michigan?”
“Michigan is a perfectly nice state,” Tillie replied. “Even chupacabras like to visit. But all of that has nothing to do with the fact that Penny Schilling wasn’t killed here. She was killed someplace else. And I don’t think the Dog Man did it.”
“Who do you think did it?” Jack asked, genuinely curious.
“Most murders are committed by people who know the victim,” Tillie explained. “The motive is generally love … or money … or plain old meanness. Stranger murders are rare. The answers aren’t here. The answers are with the people who knew Penny.”
“Did you know her?” Something about the way Tillie carried herself made me believe that she did.
“I knew her mother,” Tillie replied. “She went to school with my girls. They didn’t like one another – which wasn’t uncommon, because my girls are pains in the butt – but I knew the girl to be relatively quiet and easygoing. Penny was younger than Bay, Clove and Thistle, but I saw her around town occasionally even after her mother moved to Bellaire.”
“What was she like?”
“Penny?” Tillie shrugged. “She was a quiet girl. I didn’t know her well. I’m not used to quiet girls, because I raised six really loud ones.”
“How did you end up raising your nieces? What happened to their mother?”
“She died when they were teenagers. We all lived in the same house before that. I helped raise them from birth.”
“And your great-nieces?” Jack asked. He appeared to be just as engaged in the conversation as I did. “How did you end up raising them?”
“Because my nieces picked deadbeats to procreate with, and they needed help raising the little monsters that sprang from their loins,” Tillie replied, causing me to internally cringe at the visual she painted. “I know you think I don’t like the girls – and there are times I want to make each and every one of them eat a pile of dirt – but I would die to protect them.”
Her vehemence took Jack taken aback, but it made me like her even more.
“Even Thistle?” Jack asked finally, doubtful.
“She’s the most like me,” Tillie explained. “It’s normal that she should irritate me most. She’s a good woman with an occasionally evil mind.” Tillie flicked her eyes to the Dandridge, which poked majestically through the trees in the distance. “Clove shouldn’t stay out here. Not until we catch who did this, at least.”
“We?” Jack arched a confrontational eyebrow. “When did you join the team? You don’t even believe it was Bigfoot.”
“It wasn’t Bigfoot. I can guarantee that.”
“We can agree there,” Chris offered. “It was a Sasquatch.”
Tillie rolled her eyes. “It was a man who was smart enough to at least try to disguise a murder as an animal attack. That rarely works, but … well … he did a good enough job to get you guys out here, didn’t he?”
“I know you don’t believe, but how do you explain these?” Chris gestured toward the footprints. “A human clearly didn’t make those.”
“No, probably not,” Aunt Tillie conceded. “At least not the way you think. Footprints can be faked. I should know. I’ve been faking footprints for more than a year to throw ‘The Man’ off the track when I’m harvesting my crops.”
And back to the gardening. “And just what do you grow?” I asked.
Jack’s smirk told me he’d already figured out the answer … or at least an approximation of the truth. “She grows a variety of plants, don’t you, Ms. Winchester?”
Tillie’s smile was genuine when she graced Jack with a grin. “I have varied interests,” she confirmed. “I think I like you.”
Jack balked. “Like how?”
“Not in a perverted way.” Tillie made a clucking sound in the back of her throat. “I would like you for one of my younger girls if they weren’t already taken. How do you feel about older women? None of my nieces are linked to men right now – although Terry will eventually be a full-fledged member if I had my way.”
“
Chief Davenport?” I smiled at the picture. “Is he close with your family?”
“Closer than most.” Tillie bobbed her head. “If you like older women, I think you’d make a good match for Marnie.”
“I’m going to say thanks … but no thanks,” Jack said, his cheeks turning crimson. “It’s a very nice offer, though.”
“You remind me of Landon.” Tillie said the words so low that I wondered if she meant to utter them aloud. “He was snarky and standoffish when we first met him, too. You look like him … and you have the same feel. I can tell you’re a good man.”
“What about me?” Chris asked, his tone needy.
“You’re a good man who tends to get lost in the clouds,” Tillie replied. “You remind me of Twila, which means you can’t be with her because you’ll spend all of your time lost in the clouds and forget what it’s like to plant your feet on solid earth. Two floaters can’t be together, because someone needs to serve as an anchor.”
“I … didn’t really consider dating Twila,” Chris said. I could practically see him picturing the redheaded woman with the scattered personality as he wrinkled his nose. “I was only asking what you saw when you looked at me.”
Tillie’s smile was mischievous. “Trouble.”
7
Seven
We met the rest of the group at the Hemlock Cove diner shortly after noon. I spent most of the morning helping Chris search for additional footprints and grilling Tillie Winchester on her family and what it was like living in Hemlock Cove. She answered every question, yet told me very little. She was happy to discuss her great-nieces and the various ways she enjoyed making them pay for personal transgressions, but she revealed very little actionable material.
Once we hit town she waved us off, saying she would find her own way home before skulking off in the direction of something called The Unicorn Emporium. I had no idea what the store sold, but I doubted Tillie could stir up trouble in a kitschy store. She looked determined as she glared at an elderly woman selling her wares behind the counter, though, and didn’t so much as spare a glance for us before disappearing.
The Bigfoot Blunder (A Charlie Rhodes Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 6
