Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery) (10 page)

Clove could read minds – or rather she could read auras and sense what people were feeling – so she was the resident “psychic.” Basically, she read tarot cards and told visitors what they wanted to hear. She was busy helping a young couple now – and they couldn’t help marveling at the wonder of her insight.

“I am a total nurturer,” the young woman gushed. “You’re amazing.”

Thistle was behind the counter helping a woman load up on homemade candles and power crystals. After about twenty minutes, it was just the three of us in the store.

“Did you find out anything about Myron?” Thistle asked.

“Not much. They won’t have the autopsy results until this afternoon at the earliest. More likely tomorrow morning,” I replied.

“Did Chief Terry tell you anything else?”

“He’s not in charge of the case,” I said dubiously.

“He’s not? Who is? The state police?” Clove looked angry. None of us liked it when the state came in to take over an investigation. We were all loyal to Chief Terry – even if I did threaten to cut off his food supply.

“No, Landon,” I said bitterly.

Thistle smirked. “He took over the case? Why?”

“Because he wants to torture me.”

“Or because he wants a reason to be in town and stay near you.” Clove has a romantic streak that borders on sweet – or annoying.

“I doubt that’s it.”

“Really? Because he’s heading this way.”

I looked up to see Thistle gazing out of the window at the front of the store. I refused to look. “Very funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

“You’re just trying to get back at me for this morning.”

I heard the front door of the store open; marked by the wind chimes they had strategically placed there, and felt my stomach drop to my feet. There was no way she was telling the truth. Was there?

I kept telling myself not to give her the satisfaction of turning around, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from doing just that. It was a like a power that was bigger than me had suddenly taken control of my body

“I figured I’d find you here,” Landon greeted me. He walked around the side of the couch and plopped down next to me. “I’m assuming you were telling your cousins about this morning.”

“We were deciding what we were going to have for lunch,” I lied.

Landon didn’t look like he believed me, but he let it go. “Great. I’m starved.”

I grimaced. “No one invited you to lunch,” I pointed out.

“Do you like Middle Eastern?” Thistle asked, shooting me a triumphant look. This was her payback. I was going to make her eat a whole mud pie later, I swear.

“I love Middle Eastern,” Landon said warmly. “Can you order me a chicken
shawarma and fattoush salad?”

“Sure,” Thistle said, turning to me. “You want your usual?”

“Yes,” I grumbled.

Landon waited for Thistle to place the order and join the rest of us before he started talking again. “So, what can you guys tell me about Myron Grisham?”

“Don’t help him,” I warned Thistle and Clove. “He’s out to get Chief Terry. Don’t forget that.”

If Thistle and Clove were anxious to help Landon initially, my warning reminded them of their loyalty to Chief Terry. They both snapped their mouths shut grimly.

Landon shot me a disgusted look. “Nice. I’m not out to get Chief Terry,” Landon explained simply. “I’m helping Chief Terry. He’s the one that explained just that to Bay this morning.”

Thistle looked me up and down. “Is that true?”

“Who are you going to believe?”

“You answered a question with a question,” Clove pointed out. “You always said that was a sign that someone was lying.”

I glared at Clove pointedly. She pretended she didn’t notice. “What do you want to know?”

“What have you got?”

“Not much,” Thistle admitted.

“I thought everyone in this town knew everything about everyone else?”

“That’s true, but Myron was  . . . Myron was different,” Clove finished lamely.

“How?”

“He was like a local track hero in high school,” Thistle started. “That was before we were born. He was kind of a local celebrity, though. He was the only athlete we ever had that qualified for the state playoffs in anything.”

Landon listened quietly. I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t interrupt Thistle like he regularly interrupted me.

“He went to college on some sort of scholarship,” Thistle continued. “He was gone for like five years and then he came back to town for a couple of years. I have no idea what he did during that time. I think he owned a business or something, but I’m not really sure.”

“Chief Terry said he owned a restaurant,” Landon interjected.

“Really?” Thistle seemed surprised. “I can’t imagine letting him around food, but okay, I believe you.”

“What else?”

“He joined the Army after that. He was in Desert Storm. When he came back, he started drinking and he never really stopped.”

“Desert Storm?” Landon looked surprised. “Wasn’t he in his late fifties?”

“Yeah,” Clove looked nonplussed. “I think he went to school with my mom and aunts.”

“Well, that would have made him in his thirties during Desert Storm,” Landon pointed out.

“So?”

“It’s just that most people don’t join the Army when they’re in their thirties,” Landon said.

Huh, I had never really thought about that. “So why would he join the Army in his thirties?”

“I have no idea,” Landon shrugged.

Thistle was chewing her lip when I looked up. I knew that meant she had remembered something, but she was trying to decide if she should say it in front of Landon.

“What?”

“It’s just . . . “ Thistle broke off.

“What?”

“I think he used to date Marnie,” she said finally.

“Now that you mention it, I think you’re right,” I admitted.

“Who is Marnie?” Landon looked confused.

“My mom,” Clove answered.

“Your mom used to date the deceased?”

“Not recently,” Clove explained. “I think it was before he went off to the war.”

“You’re saying your mom drove a man to enlist in the Army?” Landon was going for levity; I couldn’t help but feel annoyed at his comment, though.

“I don’t think it was that,” I challenged Landon. Even as I said the words, though, I couldn’t be sure that they were true. One look at Thistle and Clove and I could tell they were thinking the same thing. The women in our family were known to drive men to insanity. This wouldn’t be the first time.

Landon didn’t seem to notice our distraction. “I guess I need to talk to Marnie.”

Good luck with that.

“Why don’t you come to dinner tonight,” Thistle offered. “I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you. And all the aunts will want to see you after you saved our lives. You’re like a family hero.”

If I could mentally choke someone, like a dark Jedi Knight, Thistle would be dead on the floor.

“I can’t wait,” Landon said enthusiastically, shooting me a flirty smile.

He’d change his mind on that front pretty quickly, I figured. Aunt Tillie would make sure of it.

The rest of lunch was a casual affair. Landon started grilling Thistle and Clove on what I was like as a child. As much as Thistle wanted to mess with me, though, she wasn’t about to start spilling family secrets.

The truth was, I was an odd child – even for my family’s standards. I could talk to ghosts at a young age. Everyone in town, though, thought I wandered around talking to myself. As close as Thistle and Clove and I were, even they didn’t understand what I was doing when I was holding entire conversations with shrubs and flowers. It took a long time for me to realize what was going on, and even more time for me to explain what was going on to Clove and Thistle.

My cousins remained friendly with Landon, despite his probing questions, but they didn’t reveal anything to him that would put the family secret in jeopardy. If Landon suspected anything, he didn’t let on.

Once he was gone, with a promise that he would be up at the inn at 7 p.m. sharp, I turned on Thistle. “Why did you invite him to dinner?”

“You know why,” Thistle said dismissively.

“You’ve paid me back for the Marcus thing this morning,” I complained. “Good grief.”

“That’s just an added bonus,” Thistle said. “I invited him because you like him and you’re not going to make the first move.”

“That’s not why you invited him,” I countered.

“It is so.”

“It is not.”

“It is so.”

“It is not.”

“It is so.”

“I’m going to grind your face into the mud when this is all over,” I promised. “You better not have any dessert.”

I returned to the office, but I didn’t get much done. I called Chief Terry, but he said the autopsy results wouldn’t be available until the next morning. I was worried that would be the case. Finally, I packed up my laptop and went home.

Clove and Thistle were already at the guesthouse when I arrived. They were watching me expectantly.

“What?”

“What are you going to wear?” Clove asked.

I looked down at my jeans and simple tee and shrugged. “This.”

“You can’t wear that,” Clove waved me off. “He’s already seen you in that. Don’t you want to dress up?”

“No. This isn’t a date.”

Clove and Thistle exchanged knowing looks, but dropped the matter. A few minutes before seven, we all left for the inn on foot. There was no sense in driving, even though the nights were getting markedly cooler on a daily basis.

We let ourselves in through the back door, ignoring Aunt Tillie who was sitting in her chair watching
Jeopardy
, and headed straight into the kitchen. I wanted to give Marnie a heads up about Landon before he arrived for dinner.

The minute we entered the kitchen, though, the rich scent of homemade lasagna assaulted my nasal passages. Lasagna was one of my favorite dishes. My mouth was actually salivating at the smell.

“Lasagna?”

“It’s your favorite,” my mom said warmly. “We heard you found another dead body last night and figured you could use some comfort food.”

“That’s nice,” I said, and I meant it.

“Of course, we should have served liver,” my mom sad.

Blech. I hated liver. “Why should you have served liver?”

“Well, since we had to hear about you finding another body from Chief Terry, you don’t exactly deserve to be rewarded, do you?” My mother was giving me her patented “I’m disappointed in you” look.

Crap.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” I lied.

“Oh, please,” Marnie scoffed from her place at the counter. She was busy icing a fancy looking carrot cake. If they were really fixing my favorite meals it would have been a red velvet cake. I suddenly didn’t feel so guilty about not telling them about the dead body.

“Oh, please, what?”

“You three lie about everything, whether it’s a good idea or not. You’ve done it since you were kids.”

“That’s not true,” Clove protested.

“Really?” Marnie challenged her. “The first time you were felt up you came home with your sweater on backwards and raced upstairs to tell these two,” she gestured at Thistle and me. “Then the three of you came downstairs and when I asked you about it, you said that the wind must have shifted the sweater.”

“You knew?” Clove looked horrified.

“Little Donnie Bailey. His dad had wandering hands, too.”

Thistle barked out a laugh. It was always funny when their wrath was directed at someone else.

“What are you laughing at,” Twila interrupted. “You were the one that lied about finding lipstick on the sidewalk when you were really stealing it.”

Thistle swallowed hard. “I did not steal it.”

“You were caught on camera, and I had to go in and pay for it,” Twila pointed out.

“It only happened once.” Thistle was suddenly obsessed with her shoes.

“It did,” I backed up Thistle loyally.

She shot me a grateful look.

“And none of you told us about the overnight guest you had last night,” my mom interjected. “Marcus is a handsome boy, though.”

Uh-oh.

Thistle shot me a venomous look. “It wasn’t me,” I protested.

“We saw him slinking off this morning,” Aunt Tillie said, entering the room dramatically. I couldn’t help but notice she was still wearing her sunglasses.

“He wasn’t slinking off,” Thistle argued.

“And I suppose he was there to fix the plumbing,” Aunt Tillie said haughtily.

Well, he did clear out Thistle’s pipes. “What does it matter?” I challenged.

“It doesn’t,” my mom chided me. “It’s just another example of the continuous stream of lies the three of you spew.”