Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery) (8 page)

Mrs. Little broke in. “This was just some unfortunate accident,” she soothed the obviously frazzled crowd. “What’s a murder mystery without an actual murder?”

“Good grief, Landon muttered. “This whole town is like a psych experiment.”

Mrs. Little rounded on Landon angrily. “What did you just say?”

“I said this whole town is like a psych experiment,” Landon repeated arrogantly.

“And who are you?”

Landon pulled his badge out of his pocket and flashed it at Mrs. Little derisively. “I’m a federal agent.”

“And that gives you the right to be an ass?”

I smirked in Landon’s direction. Mrs. Little was mean to everyone – she didn’t care if they had a badge or not.

“Mrs. Little, we need to clear the scene,” Chief Terry said gently. I could tell he was worried Mrs. Little would cause a scene.

“We don’t want to panic the tourists,” I said helpfully. I hoped that would be enough to distract her.

Mrs. Little must have realized the wisdom of my statement, because she returned to her crowd control endeavors. “This is just an unfortunate event,” she told everyone as the assembled officers herded them back towards the town square. “Everything is perfectly fine. It’s probably just some kind of sick joke.”

When she was gone, Landon spoke again. “She’s a trip.”

He had no idea.

Chief Terry pulled up straighter and took a step towards Landon. “Agent Michaels. What brings you to our small town?” Chief Terry didn’t seem especially thrilled by Landon’s presence.

“I was just catching up with an old friend,” Landon said, shooting a glance in my direction.

Chief Terry’s gaze darkened as he looked down at me. “I thought I told you to stay away from this guy?”

“That was when he was undercover as a drug dealer. I didn’t know it was a blanket statement that encompassed forever.”

Chief Terry harrumphed and then carefully stepped over to Landon’s side. “Are you sure he’s dead?”

“Yeah. No one could survive losing that much blood.”

I made a move to join Landon and Chief Terry but Chief Terry raised his hand to stop me. “I don’t want you stepping on the evidence.”

“You and Landon are stepping on the evidence.”

“We’re trained to step on the evidence.”

Whatever.

I watched Chief Terry and Landon circle the body for a few minutes. Curiosity got the better of my common sense. “Who is it?”

“Myron Grisham,” Chief Terry answered without thinking.

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope.”

Every town has a town drunk. Myron Grisham was Hemlock Cove’s. Despite his substance abuse problem, he was mostly harmless. The town took turns feeding him and housing him – when he would let them – all in an effort to keep him from passing out all across town.

While most drunks had a mean side, Myron was mainly a danger to himself. I had never heard of him threatening anyone – or anyone threatening him -- for that matter. Basically, he had come back from Desert Storm fifteen years ago with memories bad enough that they drove him to drink – and the town was sympathetic to his plight.

“And he was stabbed?”

Chief Terry looked at me incredulously. “Do you not see the knife?”

“Don’t get snippy with me,” I charged. “I was just asking a question.”

“I wasn’t getting snippy.”

“Aunt Tillie would think you were being snippy,” I shot back.

Chief Terry openly blanched. “Don’t you tell her I was being snippy with you. I can’t deal with that woman’s wrath and a murder.”

That was too much for any mortal man, I silently agreed. I felt a presence move in beside me.  I didn’t have to look down to know it was Clove. “It’s Myron Grisham.”

“You’re kidding,” Clove’s eyes nearly shot off her forehead. “How did he die?”

“I’m betting that big knife in his stomach had something to do with it.” Great. She’d brought Brian with her.

“Nice observation.”

Brian ignored my sarcasm. “I guess we have a bigger story than the murder mystery this week,” he said excitedly.

I glared at him. “You seem happy about that?”

“I’m not happy a man is dead,” Brian looked properly chastised. “But we’ll definitely sell more copies of the paper with a murder on the front page.”

And that’s what really mattered.

Chief Terry focused on Brian for the first time since his arrival. “You’re the new owner of the paper?”

“Yes,” Brian said proudly.

“Well, don’t be an ass.”

Brian’s smile faded. “I didn’t mean to . . . “

“Why don’t you just go over there and let the professionals do their job?” Landon suggested.

“Fine,” Brian said stiffly. He turned to me and pasted a fake chivalrous look on his face. “Can I escort you ladies back home?”

I saw Landon get to his feet with clear irritation. I decided to head off the situation. “We’ll be fine,” I said smoothly.

“There’s a killer out there,” Brian said pragmatically, sliding a smug glance in Landon’s direction. “You need someone to protect you.”

Chief Terry placed his hands on his hips. He looked as irritated as Landon. “They’ll be fine,” he said. “Besides, they have Aunt Tillie. There’s no murderer in the world that can stand up to that woman.”

I glanced at Chief Terry and Landon, genuinely torn. I wanted to know what had happened, but I knew that neither one of them were going to let me in on the investigation – especially with Brian around.

“You’ll call me tomorrow?” I asked Chief Terry.

“Yeah,” he said tiredly, running his hands through his gray hair. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I nodded silently and started to move with Clove back towards the town square. I wasn’t surprised to see that almost everyone had fled the vicinity since Ken’s announcement that he’d found a body – a real body that had nothing to do with the murder mystery.

I cast one glance back in Landon’s direction. His features were unreadable. I then fell into step with Clove and headed towards my car. Brian followed meekly behind us. “Why is he scared of your Aunt Tillie?”

“You’ve met her.”

“Yeah, but she’s an old woman.”

“Why don’t you tell her that the next time you see her,” I suggested.

I didn’t sleep very well that night. Go figure.

My dreams were a jumble of blood, ghosts and dead bodies. The fact that Landon slipped in shirtless didn’t escape me – but I did choose to ignore that little tidbit, for the time being at least. My mind can only handle so much optical stimulation at one time.

When I finally decided to embrace consciousness, I slowly climbed out of bed and started to drag myself to the living room. Since I wasn’t watching where I was going, and my eyes were only half open, I stumbled on the huge pile of clothes Thistle and Clove had hidden in my bedroom the night before and slammed into my bedroom door as I lost my footing.

“Mother . . .”

Clove opened the door and regarded me sprawled on the floor speculatively. “Don’t finish that sentence. Aunt Tillie can hear you curse from miles away.”

I rubbed my ankle morosely from my position on the floor and regarded Clove with abject irritation. “Why did you guys dump all these clothes in my room?”

“It was closer,” Clove shrugged.

I regained my footing, sweeping up the majority of Thistle’s discarded wardrobe in one swoop, and dramatically stalked out of the bedroom. I strode across the living room, threw open Thistle’s bedroom door, and tossed all of her clothes onto her bed. “I’m returning your stuff!”

By the time I realized she wasn’t alone, it was too late. Thistle and Marcus were intertwined on the bed. And while the sheets covered everything I didn’t want to see, it was obvious they were both naked. Crud.

“What the hell!” Thistle’s eyes shot open. Marcus was awake, but he was still getting his bearings. “Don’t you knock?”

Clove had followed me into the bedroom and was staring at the scene in front of us with her mouth agape. “No way! You slept with him!”

“Say it a little louder, Clove,” Thistle grumbled. “I don’t think Aunt Tillie can hear you from here.”

“Don’t be so sure,” I mumbled.

Marcus had realized where he was and was fruitlessly trying to hide under the covers. I could see why Thistle was so enamored with him. He was ripped. All that stall cleaning obviously paid off in the muscles department.

“Stop staring,” Thistle ordered. “Get out.”

Clove was still distracted by Marcus’ bronzed skin and rippling muscles so I dragged her out behind me and shut the door. I tasked Clove with making coffee and turned on the television to see if last night’s murder had made the news yet. It hadn’t.

“How can they not have the story yet?” Clove asked.

“It was late when it happened, and the only people there were townspeople and tourists. It will make the news by tonight, for sure,” I replied.

“Are you going to call Chief Terry?”

“I’ll just stop in at the department on my way into work.”

Clove brewed a pot of coffee and slid the first cup towards me. She tossed a few slices of bread into the toaster for breakfast, and then sat down next to me to eat them. “Who do you think would kill Myron?”

“I don’t know,” I sipped my coffee and shrugged.

“Someone killed Myron?”

Clove and I looked up to see Thistle and Marcus walking into the room. Neither one of us had heard the door open, so we were surprised by their sudden appearance. Sadly, Marcus was completely dressed.

“You didn’t know that?”

“No. When?” Thistle directed Marcus towards the stool on my left and poured two cups of coffee. She slid one across the counter towards Marcus and then fixed a hard gaze on me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I assumed you knew,” I replied. Marcus’ presence – even though he was now fully clothed – was something of a distraction. “It happened at the bonfire last night. You were there.”

“We never actually made it,” Thistle shifted uncomfortably.

“Really?” I smiled slyly in Thistle’s direction. “Where did you go?”

“We went for a moonlight horse ride, if you must know,” Thistle shot back. I heard her grumble “busybody” under her breath.

“There’s nothing like the smell of horse crap in the moonlight to entice you to drop your panties,” I smirked.

If Marcus were any redder, he’d spontaneously combust. “I should get to work,” he said uncomfortably.

“Don’t let Bay chase you off,” Clove chided me. “We’re teasing Thistle, not you.”

“It’s not that,” Marcus lied. “I just have to get back to work.”

Clove and I wisely held our tongues as we watched Thistle walk Marcus to the door and say goodbye. When she came back to the kitchen, she didn’t look happy. “Both of you are dead to me. You’re such . . . witches.”

“How were we supposed to know that you brought him home,” I complained. “We never saw you last night and we just assumed you came home after us. We didn’t realize you were already home – and otherwise engaged – before we got here.” I sipped my coffee and watched Thistle carefully. She looked pissed.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate it,” I admitted.

Thistle narrowed her eyes as she regarded me. “If I were you, I’d forget what you saw.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” I said carefully. “It’s not that often that you see a washboard on a man and not at the river or in a museum.”

Clove giggled appreciatively.

“I can’t wait until your mom finds out you had sex on the first date.”

That did it. Thistle practically flew over the counter and tackled me backwards. We both hit the ground hard. I could feel her tugging my hair as she tried to pin me to the ground. “You’re not telling anyone about this,” she seethed.

Thistle had taken me by surprise, and she had the leverage. I couldn’t manage to buck her off me; no matter how hard I tried. “I can’t breathe,” I complained.

“Promise you’re not going to say anything,” Thistle growled.

“I won’t say anything,” I promised. I couldn’t guarantee the aunts wouldn’t find out some other way, though. It was eerie how they managed to know things we went out of our way to lie to them about.

Thistle had managed to successfully pin me to the ground – and she didn’t look like she was going to get off my chest anytime soon. “I’m not joking,” she warned me.

“I won’t tell,” I grunted, shifting my midriff so she tumbled off to the side. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it if she didn’t let me.

We both got up and returned to our cups of coffee silently. After a few minutes, Thistle broke the silence. “So Myron is really dead?”

“Yeah, someone stabbed him behind the town square, right next to the library, and left his body out in the open.”

Clove was still nervous as she watched us for signs we were going to tussle again. “There was a lot of blood,” she said warily.