Charms & Witchdemeanors (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 8) Read online

  Charms & Witchdemeanors

  A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Book Eight

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  29. Twenty-Nine

  30. Thirty

  31. Thirty-One

  32. Thirty-Two

  33. Thirty-Three

  34. Thirty-Four

  Mail List

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Amanda M. Lee

  Copyright © 2016 by Amanda Lee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Prologue

  Six years ago

  Tillie Winchester’s enemies were numerous and varied.

  Yes, they looked like harmless elderly people, but beneath their friendly facades Tillie knew they were evil. She wasn’t even willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and call them “misunderstood.” No, the people who frequented Hemlock Cove’s senior center were – without a doubt – Senator Palpatine, Sauron and Lord Voldemort evil.

  They were dastardly in their manipulations, hoping to take her down with false accusations, vigorous finger-pointing and dirty looks.

  Tillie had no doubt she was a force of goodness standing in the way of Hemlock Cove’s destruction. She was the Han Solo of the town (because Luke Skywalker was far too whiny, and she would never wear doughnuts on the side of her head and call it a fashion choice). She had to defeat evil.

  “What happened?”

  Terry Davenport, Hemlock Cove’s police chief, looked weary as he regarded the mayhem surrounding him. It was a Friday and he’d already been looking forward to his weekend when the call about the senior center’s card tournament turning into a possible poisoning came across his radio.

  “Tillie lost at euchre and poisoned the coffee,” Margaret Little volunteered. “She claims we cheated, but she’s just a terrible loser and everyone knows it. She wanted to win the tournament and lost, and this is how she paid us back.”

  Terry shifted his tired eyes to Tillie. “Is that true?”

  “Of course it’s not true,” Tillie sputtered. “I’m an excellent euchre player. I could go on a professional circuit and everything.”

  “Not that,” Terry said, shaking his head. “Is the other part true? Did you poison everyone because you lost?”

  Tillie was affronted. “I don’t poison people.”

  “She’s a witch,” Maude Galbraith interjected as a paramedic knelt next to her and checked her vitals. She was one of the “afflicted” who began violently vomiting after downing a cup of coffee. She also happened to be one of the tournament winners. “Everyone in town knows she’s a witch. She poisoned us because she’s a poor loser.”

  “That’s not true,” Tillie protested. “I didn’t poison them. I’m a great loser. Do you want to know how I know?”

  Terry didn’t care in the slightest. “Let’s get back to the problem at hand,” he prodded. “I think … .”

  Tillie cut him off. “I know because I’ve lost so few times I remember each instance with absolute clarity,” she said. “I was gracious in defeat, just as I am magnanimous in victory.”

  Terry snorted, and it took him a second to realize it wasn’t merely in his head but also out there for public consumption. “Okay,” he said. “I understand that you’re a great loser … .”

  “Gracious loser,” Tillie corrected.

  “Gracious loser,” Terry said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Why does everyone think you poisoned the coffee?”

  “Because they’re asshats,” Tillie replied, blasé. “There can be no other explanation. They’re jealous and they made themselves sick with envy.”

  “Yes, that must be it,” Margaret deadpanned. “It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you got all red in the face and promised retribution when you didn’t win the tournament. Then people saw you pouting by the coffee pot for a good twenty minutes. Then everyone who drank the coffee got sick – I mean they actually puked on the floor in front of people and some ran to the bathroom holding their bottoms because of other … um … issues. That’s all a coincidence, right?”

  Terry looked pained. “Thank you for the colorful … retelling … of today’s events, Mrs. Little,” he said. “Just because Tillie stood next to the coffee pot doesn’t mean she poisoned everyone.”

  “You know as well as I do that she’s a mean and vindictive snake,” Margaret said. “She actually bought every tire in town last year when I had a flat just so I couldn’t attend the fair in Traverse City and win the pie contest.”

  “That is a lie,” Tillie hissed, extending a finger. “You wouldn’t have won that competition anyway because Winnie and Marnie entered their pies. You didn’t have a chance. If someone did do that – and I’m not saying anyone did – they did you a favor.”

  “Whatever,” Margaret said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “She peed on my rosebush when we had that flower contest a few years back because she wanted her roses to win,” Agatha Milton said, leaning back as a paramedic checked her blood pressure. She was one of the afflicted, too. “She actually peed on them to kill them.”

  Terry was horrified as he shifted his gaze to Tillie. “Did you really do that?”

  “I didn’t pee on anything,” Tillie replied. “I was walking past Agatha’s house and I accidentally tripped while carrying a jug of doe urine. It wasn’t my fault. If anything, I should’ve sued because I could’ve broken a hip when I stumbled on her uneven walkway.”

  Terry was flabbergasted. “Why would you have doe urine?”

  “I’m an excellent hunter,” Tillie answered, not missing a beat. “You need doe urine when you hunt. That’s why they sell it at those outdoor stores.”

  “You were hunting deer in the spring?” Terry challenged. “You know that’s out of season so it’s against the law, right?”

  Tillie was unfazed. “I spend the spring lulling the deer into a sense of calm so they’re not afraid of me,” she explained. “If they see me out there with the doe urine, they get used to me. That makes hunting them in the summer easier.”

  “It’s illegal to hunt deer in the summer,” Terry pointed out.

  “Fine. I hunt them whenever it’s legal.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Just out of curiosity’s sake, when is that?” Tillie asked. “Is that a winter thing?”

  “It’s a November thing,” Terry replied, shaking his head. “That’s not the point of the conversation. These people say you poisoned
them because you lost at cards. Please tell me that’s not true.”

  Terry was shrewd. Tillie had to give him that. He knew she was innocent and being persecuted, but he was trying to lull her enemies into thinking he was on their side so they would slip up and make a mistake.

  “I have no reason to poison these people,” Tillie argued, winking so Terry would know she was in on his plan. “I don’t care about losing a card tournament.”

  “She hopped up and down and called us all cheaters and said she was going to turn us into toads,” Maude said.

  “I would never threaten to turn anyone into toads,” Tillie countered. “That’s just … beneath me. My ideas are much less … cliché.”

  Terry lifted a challenging eyebrow in Maude’s direction. “Did she really say that?”

  “I might have made up the toad part,” Maude conceded. “She said the rest, though. She screamed and hollered about making us pay and teaching us a lesson.”

  “She did do that,” Margaret agreed. “You know she’s a terrible loser, so I’m not sure why you’re fighting this. We want her banned from the center.”

  “Banned? We want her arrested,” Agatha snapped. “We could’ve died. Heck, we still might die because we have no idea what she poisoned us with.”

  Terry glanced at the closest paramedic. “Is there any way of knowing what they ingested?”

  “We’ll run tests at the hospital, but I can’t say right now,” the paramedic replied. “It honestly could be something as simple as a laxative overdose.”

  Terry fought the mad urge to laugh thanks to the visual. “I see.”

  “It also could be something more serious,” the paramedic added. “We simply don’t know yet.”

  Terry nodded. “Okay, well, until we know what’s going on, everyone needs to just chill and take a breather from one another,” he said. “That means no euchre tournaments until we get to the bottom of this.”

  “Wait a second.” Margaret narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you’re going to let this … evil beast … walk free while we’re suffering?”

  “You’re not suffering,” Tillie pointed out. “You didn’t even drink the coffee.”

  “Ha! You just admitted you poisoned the coffee,” Margaret crowed, extending a finger. “I heard it. Who else heard it?”

  Agatha and Maude raised their hands.

  “I did not admit it,” Tillie shot back. “I just said you didn’t drink the coffee. Try cleaning your ears once in a while so you’re not deaf and dumb at the same time. It’s a terrible combination – especially on you.”

  “You said you poisoned it,” Margaret argued. “Chief Terry, you heard her say she poisoned it, right?”

  Terry looked as if the last thing he wanted to do was get in the middle of a senior center group freakout. “I did not hear her say that,” he said. “I did hear myself say that we’ll have to wait for the test results before moving forward. This might have been something as simple as bad creamer.”

  “Humph.” Margaret planted her hands on her hips as she regarded her cronies. “That’s not good enough for me.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Terry said, tugging on his fraying patience. “I have no proof, and I can’t arrest someone without any proof. That’s the way the law works. You should know that.”

  “I’m not talking about you,” Margaret said. “I don’t care what you do. We all know you’re going to take Tillie’s side, even if a deadly poison is found in the coffee. You always take her side.”

  “Yeah, it’s because you’ve got a thing for her nieces,” Agatha said, making a disgusted face. “You like all three of them. It’s … perverted.”

  “Oh, stuff it, Agatha,” Tillie argued. “The only thing perverted is your mind. I don’t have to sit here and take this. I’m out of here.” Tillie strode toward the door that led to the parking lot.

  “I might have more questions when the tests come back,” Terry called to her back.

  Tillie didn’t bother turning around. “You know where to find me.”

  “Until you’re cleared – and I mean by the board here and not Chief Terry, mind you – you’re banned from the senior center,” Margaret said, her upbeat voice causing Tillie’s shoulder’s to stiffen as she grabbed the door handle. “I’m the president of the board, so my decision is final. You can file an appeal, but it will take weeks before we get to it.”

  Terry’s eyes widened at how evil the woman sounded as she threatened Tillie. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

  “I think it’s done,” Margaret replied. “You’re banned, Tillie. I hope you’re proud of what you’ve done, because you won’t be magnanimous in victory or defeat here for the foreseeable future.”

  Instead of crying – or begging Margaret to change her mind – Tillie sent her a one-finger salute as she pushed open the door. “You have to do what you have to do,” she said, taking the high road as she marched out the door.

  “Well, that went better than I expected,” Terry said, shaking his head. “I thought she would yell and scream.”

  “She flipped me off,” Margaret argued. “Isn’t there a law on the books about that being illegal?”

  “Not last time I checked,” Terry replied dryly. “Besides, if that’s the worst thing she did, I think you should consider yourself lucky. Things could’ve gone a heck of a lot worse.”

  “Wait for it,” Maude said.

  Terry shouldn’t have been surprised when the door opened again and Tillie’s head popped back into view. He knew her well enough to know she would never let this go, and yet he still had hope right until her eyes flashed evil and she wrinkled her nose.

  “You’re all on my list!” Tillie bellowed. “Live in fear!”

  One

  Present Day

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “Okay … please, don’t do that.”

  I smirked as I watched my cousins banter, relaxing on the couch in their magic store called Hypnotic and laughing as they conducted inventory. Thistle and Clove could be a reality show – but a funny one – and the ratings would be through the roof.

  Thistle, her short-cropped hair a bright lavender this month, planted her hands on her narrow hips. “Why do you always have to act as if you’re my boss?”

  Clove brushed a strand of her long dark hair away from her face and adopted a petulant look. “Why do you always have to act as if you’re somehow better than everyone else?”

  “It’s one crystal ball, Clove,” Thistle snapped, gesturing toward the shelf. “Why can’t it be on this shelf instead of the one you picked?”

  “Because … that’s not its home,” Clove replied. She’s something of a control freak and when her plans get messed up she can’t seem to stop herself from fussing – even if it’s over something absolutely ridiculous. She grabbed the crystal ball and moved it one shelf over. “It wants to live here until it finds a proper home.”

  “Did it tell you that?” Thistle challenged.

  “It did,” Clove confirmed. “It also told me you’re being loud and it wants you to shut up.”

  Thistle flicked Clove’s ear, earning an outraged shriek that was overly dramatic – even by Clove’s standards – and then turned her attention to me. “Bay, what do you think? Which shelf does the crystal ball want to live on until some kind person comes in to offer it a forever home?”

  There was no way I was going to answer. I knew my cousins well enough to realize that whoever I sided with, the other would pay me back. That’s what happens when you share a roof with people for the better part of your life.

  “I think the crystal ball doesn’t want me to get involved,” I replied. “What’s that?” I cupped my ear and pretended to listen to a soft voice. “Oh, the crystal ball also thinks you two are being big babies and should just let it go.”

  Clove had the good sense to giggle. Thistle was another story.

  “I’ll make you eat dirt
if you don’t take my side,” Thistle threatened.

  Frankly, I didn’t think the crystal ball looked good on either shelf. It was kitschy, and I much preferred Thistle’s homemade candles and Clove’s ornate herb displays. “I don’t know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I can’t figure out why it even matters. Shove it on a shelf and be done with it.”

  “You make me want to punch you in the face sometimes,” Thistle muttered, although I couldn’t help but notice she left the crystal ball where Clove wanted it and returned to her inventory checklist. “I’m going to have Aunt Tillie curse you for not taking my side … and it’s going to be a good one.”

  I frowned. No one wants to admit they live in fear of a senior citizen with itchy witch fingers, but I do. We all do. We can’t help ourselves.

  My name is Bay Winchester and I’m a witch. Apparently I’m a cowardly witch today. My entire family – Clove and Thistle included – are witches, too. We come from a long line of practitioners, although Aunt Tillie is definitely the scariest.

  “Do you want to know what I think?” I asked, opting to change the subject.

  “Nope,” Thistle replied, not missing a beat. “I think if you’re not going to be on my side you should get out and go to your own place of business. That is my decree for the day. Be gone, traitor.”

  My entire family is dramatic. I can’t explain it. I think it’s in our genes, along with a propensity to be busybodies and the ability to screech at the top of our lungs when our feelings are hurt.

  “I’m here for lunch,” I reminded her. “You insisted I had to eat here because you two were too busy to leave.”

  “Well, I changed my mind,” Thistle said. “That’s a woman’s prerogative. That’s what Aunt Tillie says, anyway.”

  Since Thistle and Aunt Tillie preferred hating each other rather than joining together, I couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. “Since when do you listen to anything Aunt Tillie says?”

  “Since she’s been nice for three consecutive days. I think it means the world is coming to an end, but I’m enjoying it.”