Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery) (11 page)

“We don’t lie,” Clove disputed my mom. One look at her warning look, though, and Clove shrank in her growing countenance. “We don’t lie all the time,” she amended.

We so need to change the subject. “You guys remember the FBI agent from the cornfield?”

My mom looked surprised by the change in subject matter. “The one who saved our lives? The one with all the pretty dark hair?”

That would be the one. “Yeah, Landon Michaels. He’s investigating Myron’s death.”

“Why isn’t Terry investigating it?” Twila asked.

“They’re investigating it together,” I said. “Anyway, he’s coming to dinner tonight.”

“Are you dating?” My mom looked far too excited by the prospect.

“No,” I said hurriedly.

“Then why is he coming to dinner?”

“He wants to talk to Marnie,” Thistle said.

“Why?” Marnie looked surprised.

“We might have told him that you used to date Myron, you know, back in the day,” Thistle said lamely, dropping her gaze in an attempt to avoid the fire bolts that were shooting from Marnie.

“And why would you tell him that?”

“He asked,” Clove supplied.

“So, let me get this straight,” Marnie was practically seething. “You three lie about minor things and then decide to tell the truth about something like this?”

“We didn’t think it would be a big deal,” I said. Why was it such a big deal?

“It’s not a big deal,” Marnie waved me off. “It just never ceases to amaze me what you guys tell the truth about and what you lie about.”

“They’re just not very smart,” Aunt Tillie interjected.

“Excuse me? You’re wearing sunglasses in the house because you believe you’re allergic to oxygen and we’re the stupid ones?” The minute I said the words, I knew they were a mistake.

Aunt Tillie shuffled towards me. I wasn’t tall at 5’5” – but I towered over Aunt Tillie in physical stature. Somehow, I felt dwarfed by her presence, though. Aunt Tillie extended one gnarled finger in my direction. “You should be careful who you call stupid, my dear. Karma is a bitch. And yours is starting to show.”

What the hell did that mean?

Aunt Tillie turned away dismissively. “If you were bringing a date, you really should have cleaned yourself up.”

“It’s not a date.”

“There are great home electrolysis systems these days,” she said as she started to move towards the dining room. “You really should invest in one.”

If Karma is real, why is Aunt Tillie still standing?

After a quick trip to the bathroom, where I found Aunt Tillie’s mustache had suddenly re-grown, I returned to the kitchen.

“It’s hardly noticeable, dear,” my mom patted my arm.

It better not be, I’d used her razor to get rid of it. After my mom and aunts took the food out to the kitchen, I turned to Thistle. “Whatever you’re planning for that old lady, I’m in.”

“She really is the devil,” Thistle lamented. I noticed that she was running her own hand over her own top lip to make sure her mustache hadn’t returned. None of us felt safe.

Clove licked her lips nervously. “If we do something to her, that will just make her mad.” I couldn’t help but notice that she was looking around the room like Aunt Tillie would jump out from behind a curtain to pounce at the hint of a plot against her. Actually, that wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility.

“We can’t just let her go unchecked,” Thistle hissed. “It makes her feel omnipotent – which really just makes her more dangerous.”

“Are you sure she’s not?”

“What? Omnipotent? No one is omnipotent.”

The three of us lapsed into an uneasy silence. Even we weren’t sure that was true when it came to Aunt Tillie.

We all collected ourselves, shaking off the shudder that had suddenly overwhelmed us, and followed our mothers into the dining room. I noticed that Landon was already seated, and Brian was located a few chairs down. They were both shooting each other dark looks.

“What took you so long?” My mom asked.

“We were just . . . it was like thirty seconds,” I grumbled.

“Well, when the three of you are together plotting, things can fall apart in thirty seconds,” my mom clucked. “I was just checking.”

Just checking, my ass.

Thistle and Clove hurriedly slid into seats on Aunt Tillie’s side of the table, leaving the only open chair situated next to Landon. I glared at both of them, but silently sat down next to him. I didn’t bother greeting him, mostly because I felt like everyone at the table was staring at me. Damn Aunt Tillie.

After dinner had been doled out, most of the guests at the far end of the table were talking amongst themselves. That left our end of the table mired in an uncomfortable silence. My mom, apparently, couldn’t stand it.

“It’s so nice to see you,” she said to Landon.

“You, too,” Landon replied amiably.

My mom smiled when she caught sight of his dimples. Who didn’t love dimples? “I see you still have long hair,” she hedged. She obviously didn’t love that.

“I like it long,” Landon said with a smile, although I could tell the smile was tighter than it should have been.

“What does your mom think about your hair?”

Thistle exchanged a humorous smile with me. We were enjoying Landon’s discomfort.

“She doesn’t like it,” Landon said honestly. “I’m an adult, though. I just tell her that parents lose the right to comment on their child’s hair after the age of eighteen.”

Twila shuffled a look towards Thistle’s hair. I could tell she thought differently.

“So, where have you been?” Aunt Tillie threw out the question ominously. Apparently Landon’s dimples didn’t charm her.

Landon looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you just disappeared on poor Bay here,” she challenged him. “That’s not a very nice thing to do.” I was uncomfortable being referred to as “poor Bay” – but I honestly wanted to hear his answer.

“I didn’t disappear,” Landon shot back quickly. “I was recovering from a gunshot wound.”

“That’s your excuse?” Aunt Tillie didn’t look impressed.

“It’s not good enough for you? I did get shot saving you, after all?” Landon reminded her.

“I didn’t need you to save me,” Aunt Tillie harrumphed. “I had the situation under control.”

As unstoppable as she is, even I had doubts about her ability to stop a bullet with only her mind as a weapon. The doubts were relatively weak, though.

“I’m sure you could have handled the situation,” Landon conceded, flashing his dimples again.

“Those don’t work on me,” she warned him.

“What don’t?”

“Those dimples,” Aunt Tillie said.

“I’m surprised you can see them with the sunglasses on,” Landon countered.

Thistle, Clove and I all sucked in a sharp breath. Landon seemed surprised by our reaction.  It didn’t stop him from asking the question that we were all mentally warning him against. “Why are you wearing the sunglasses?”

“I’m sick,” Aunt Tillie announced.

“That’s terrible,” Brian interjected with an overt sympathy that could only be described as fake. “Do you have an eye infection?”

“No, I don’t have an eye infection,” Aunt Tillie said irritably. “I’m allergic to oxygen.”

Landon looked surprised. Brian looked doubtful. “I don’t think that’s really a thing,” he said.

Thistle and I exchanged dubious looks. “Uh-oh,” she mouthed. I was actually kind of curious how Aunt Tillie would react. I was just glad Landon hadn’t said it. Aunt Tillie had once boasted she could shrink a man’s, um, unit. I didn’t want to risk Landon suffering that fate before I saw what he had to offer. Did I just think that? At least I didn’t say it out loud.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Aunt Tillie challenged Brian.

“I don’t think he’s calling you a liar,” Clove interjected helpfully. I couldn’t help but be a little irritated that she felt the need to race to Brian’s aid. I wanted to see Aunt Tillie unleash her full fury on him.

I saw Thistle jerk spasmodically. If I had to guess, she’d kicked Clove under the table. She was clearly on my side -- as far as Brian was concerned, at least.

“You’re not a liar,” Brian said hurriedly. “You’re very old, though. You might be senile.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise. No way was Aunt Tillie going to stand for that.

“What did you just say?” Aunt Tillie was incensed.

“Um . . . I said that maybe you’re senile,” Brian looked suddenly uncomfortable. The fact that he was looking at my aunts and mom for help with the situation was humorous in itself. Despite Aunt Tillie’s obvious rage, though, he hadn’t tried to placate her. You had to admire his guts – or his rampant stupidity.

“He just called me senile,” Aunt Tillie turned to me incredulously. I had insinuated that Aunt Tillie was senile several times in the past month alone. I didn’t think now was the time to point that out, though.

“What are you going to do about it?” Hey, focusing Aunt Tillie’s rage on someone else – someone I didn’t trust – could only help me at this point.

Aunt Tillie was suddenly standing. She was either going to curse him or dump his dinner on him. Both were mildly entertaining possibilities. To my surprise, Aunt Tillie turned on her heel and disappeared into the kitchen. I made a move to get up and follow her, but Twila stopped me.

“I’ll go.”

The entire table watched as Twila disappeared into the kitchen after Aunt Tillie rage-filled form. She was like a really tiny Hulk when she got like this. “Is she okay?” I couldn’t be sure, but I think the young redhead at the end of the table had asked the question.

“She’s fine,” Marnie said dismissively. No one that shared in our dubious gene pool actually believed that, but we’d all been trained not to alarm the guests when Aunt Tillie went into one of her “fits”.

Landon slid a curious look in my direction. “What the hell was that?”

“Aunt Tillie is . . . persnickety.”

“Good word,” Landon encouraged me. He leaned in close so only I could hear him for the next part of his statement. “I don’t believe you for a second. You’re all worried. That old lady is up to something in the kitchen, isn’t she?”

“We’re not worried,” I lied. “She won’t do anything.” As long as Twila locked up the Belladonna, that was probably a true statement.

“So,” Marnie said nervously, trying to change the subject. “I hear you’re working on Myron’s murder?”

Landon turned to Marnie. “I am. I have a few questions, if you’re up to it?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Did you used to date Mr. Grisham?”

“When I was twenty, we dated for about six months,” Marnie admitted.

“What can you tell me about him?”

“He could do a full keg stand for two minutes,” Marnie said blankly.

Landon looked surprised. I think his face mirrored mine. “You know what a keg stand is?”

“I wasn’t always a mother and aunt,” Marnie waved off my surprise. “I went to my fair share of parties.”

Landon smiled, despite himself. “What else can you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Marnie shrugged. “We were young. He was a nice man. We had a lot of laughs. It wasn’t exactly a serious relationship.”

“What can you tell me about his family?”

“His mom died when he was a baby,” Marnie supplied. “His dad was a deliveryman, back when milk was still dropped off at people’s doors. I never really saw him that much.”

“And where is his father now?”

“He died right before Marcus joined the Army,” Marnie answered.

“Is that why he joined the Army?”

“I can’t be sure, we had broken up by then, but I would guess that had something to do with it,” Marnie said. “He lost the restaurant, too. He wasn’t a very good businessman.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?” Landon asked.

“I don’t know, a couple days ago? I would run into him around town but never really talk to him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he was always drunk,” Marnie said honestly. “You can’t really hold a deep conversation with someone like that.”

She had a point.

Landon seemed satisfied with Marnie’s answers. He turned his attention to his lasagna and listened in lazily to the conversation buzzing around us. It was pretty mindless, though.

Thanks to the sudden silence, all I could focus on was the warmth emanating from Landon’s body due to our close proximity. It was a calming feeling, which surprised me. Usually he was like a coiled snake ready to strike. His relaxation – especially around the nuttiness of my family – was a whole other facet to him.

Unfortunately, the calm that was washing over me was short-lived It was interrupted by raised voices from the kitchen. What now?

I got up from the table and followed the sound of the voices. When I entered the kitchen I found Twila and Aunt Tillie wrestling over an herb bottle at the sink. “What’s going on?”