5 Beewitched (35 page)

Grams nodded. “Yup,” she said, “we finally got her married off.”

And with that, we high-fived each other.

• • •

A little later, I paused to reflect on my family. The mojo bag had delivered on my wish. I’d briefly considered using it to bring down Lori Spandle, but I couldn’t waste a perfectly good wish on that woman. Instead I had wished for those close to me to stay healthy, because as Grams always says, you don’t have anything if you don’t have your health. In retrospect, that wish might have saved my life inside the corn maze, because I guess
I
qualify as someone close to me.

“Can I have this dance?” Hunter asked, reaching for my hand.

I smiled and melted into his arms. We danced the night away.

Forty-two

Several other events worth mentioning happened
later in the week.

The first was that Hunter and his team found all kinds of evidence inside a rented storage unit to support Eleanor Marciniak’s claim to infamy. They found:

• pictures of Buddy and Rosina in happier times
  
• bloody clothes with traces of manure
  
• a computer with a whole lot of incriminating data
  
• a journal of all her twisted thoughts and actions
  

More than enough evidence to put her away forever.

Because Eleanor didn’t die that night in the corn maze. Her self-inflicted wound damaged her mind, not her body. Hunter says she will probably live out her life in a nursing home.

Greg is on the mend, both mentally and physically, and Al has been exonerated. Greg intends to stay on in Moraine and become a real active partner in Country Delight. His father is delighted.

On the other hand, Dyanna Crane moved back to Milwaukee. My small town wasn’t exactly welcoming, and she felt the vibes. Some things just aren’t worth fighting for, and this was a battle she decided she could do without. Lucinda and Dy managed to resolve their differences, and the entire coven, led by Lucinda, arrived on moving day and pitched in to help her while the recovering Greg supervised from the sidelines.

That means the house next door is vacant again, and Lori Spandle has been hovering like the mosquito she has become. I’m through giving her my blood, though, and that’s final. Which brings me to the rule of threes. Iris and Grams are absolutely right on in that regard. And I have examples to prove their point. With Rosina gone, Dy and Lucinda made their peace with each other. And way back when, Iris and Rosina became lifelong friends after Mom left the threesome. Even among my friends, the chemistry changes when three of us are together. Like when Holly, Patti, and I get together, it isn’t the same as when Holly and I hang out. And Patti really lets loose when it’s just the two of us. I want to explore these dynamics more.

I’ve also learned a thing or two about human behavior and pack mentalities. I thought I was an open-minded woman until the witches came to town. It took me a long time to look beyond the coven for a suspect, and even then Joan fooled me with her sweet, grandmotherly demeanor. She definitely made me aware of the concept of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

At least with Patti and Johnny Jay and Lori Spandle, what you see is what you get. Warts and all.

Speaking of those last two, about a week after Mom’s wedding, Patti, Aurora, and I were all sitting on a bench outside The Wild Clover. (Yes, Patti and I are “buddies” again, and I’m not even hiding it from Hunter. He’ll get used to it eventually.) The leaves were swirling through the air, landing at our feet, all reds and yellows and oranges, as we watched Grams attempt to drive away from the curb in the Fleetwood without taking out any other cars or signage posts.

Patti had some kind of electronic device on her lap and she fiddled with the dials. All I heard was static.

Then voices.

Patti beamed.

“That’s Johnny Jay’s voice,” I said. “Where is he?”

“The police station,” she replied.

“You bugged the police station!!??”

“Relax, this is a tape recording.”

That wasn’t an actual denial. She
had
bugged Johnny Jay’s office.

“Just shush and listen,” she said.

“Does this have anything to do with the library sting?”

“Shhhh,” she said.

We heard Grant Spandle’s voice next. “Is that who I think it is? Is that my wife?”

“That’s her,” Johnny Jay said, and I realized that the men were watching the library recording. “Practically having sex right there in the romance stacks.”

“You did this on purpose, Jay,” Grant said, sounding like he was gasping for air. “To make a mockery of my marriage.”

“Spandle, you can’t blame me for your personal problems. How was I supposed to know she’d pick that spot right where we hid the surveillance camera?”

“I’m going to kill her.”

“You can’t say that in front of a police officer. What the hell are you thinking? Spandle, where are you going? I mean it, stay away from the library. Spandle?”

Patti turned off the recording and we sat for a few minutes, silently savoring the moment.

Aurora, who had been sitting quietly through the recording, said to me, “Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for.”

Which stunned me, because I’d never mentioned my mojo bag to Aurora, or my fleeting thoughts of wishing that Lori would get caught in the act, but Aurora’s comment implied she knew. Or did she? The woman was a big mystery.

The mojo bag was still tucked in my pocket. It had worked so well in the corn maze, I figured I should continue to carry it.

Aurora was giving me a satisfied smile.

“I thought I only had one wish,” I told her.

She shook her head. “One wish, two, who knows.” Then she casually glanced at the exact same pocket where I carried the mojo bag. Had Tabitha told her? That was the only reasonable explanation.

“Now I feel responsible,” I said. And I did feel bad. If I hadn’t considered wishing for Lori to get caught in exactly this way, would it still have happened? Sure, she deserved it, but had I played a part? And what about Grant’s feelings? Shame on me!

Aurora kept on smiling, reminding me of Mona Lisa, all knowing. “Don’t feel too sorry for her husband,” she said. “He’s playing the same games as his wife.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Just then Grant’s car flew past going about a hundred miles an hour.

“I thought you said that was a recording we were listening to,” I said to Patti.

“So I lied. Come on, let’s go check out a few books from the library.”

“I’ll see you later,” Aurora said.

“You aren’t coming?” I asked.

“The rule of threes,” she said, turning toward Willow Street and her home.

With that, Patti and I headed for the library.

To watch Lori Spandle get her just deserts.

The Wild Clover
Newsletter

Notes from the beeyard:

• No matter how cold the weather gets outside, inside a beehive the workers have to maintain a temperature of over ninety degrees.
  
• They do this by shivering, vibrating their flight muscles to raise their body temperatures.
  
• So they need lots of honey stored up in their combs for energy.
  
• Take care of that queen bee, worker bees, and see you in the spring!
  

Crescent Cakes

1 cup ground almonds

1
¹
/
₄
cups flour

¹
/
₂
cup confectioner’s sugar plus extra

3 drops almond extract

¹
/
₂
cup butter, softened

1 egg yolk

Combine almonds, flour, sugar, and extract until thoroughly mixed. Add butter and egg yolk until well blended. Chill for one hour. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Pinch off pieces of dough and shape into crescents. Place on greased sheets and bake for about 20 minutes, watching carefully the last few minutes. Roll in more confectioner’s sugar after baking.

Makes 1 dozen

Bride’s Honey

Infuse the following ingredients over a very low heat for 10 minutes, then let the flavors meld for twenty-four hours before serving in a small bowl with tiny spoons.

1 pound honey

1 teaspoon dried ground rosebuds

1 teaspoon cinnamon

¹
/
₄
teaspoon cloves

¹
/
₄
teaspoon nutmeg

Lemon Drop Honey Martini

2 ounces vodka

1 ounce honey simple sugar (4 parts honey to 1 part hot water)

Juice of one lemon

Honeycomb

Sugar for rimming

Lemon wedges

Wooden honey sticks

Rim a martini glass with sugar. Place a piece of fresh honeycomb on the bottom of the glass. Mix vodka, lemon, and simple sugar in shaker with ice cubes. Shake and pour into glass. Garnish with a lemon wedge and a wooden honey stick.

About the Author

Hannah Reed lives on a high ridge in southern Wisconsinin a community much like the one she writes about. She is busy writing the next book in the Queen Bee Mysteries. Visit Hannah and explore Story’s world at queenbeemystery.com.