A Witch Before Dying (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 11) Read online

  “Exactly.” Landon nodded. “The thing is, that renaissance troupe is huge. We have an extremely large suspect pool.”

  “And that probably rules out Scarlet Darksbane,” I noted.

  “Probably.”

  “Crap.” I tugged a hand through my hair. “I know she’s guilty of something. If she’s not guilty of this, I’ll have to keep looking.”

  “You do whatever you feel is necessary,” Landon said. “Just … don’t go crazy.”

  “I never go crazy.”

  Landon made a face. “Never?”

  “Almost never,” I conceded.

  “You go crazy at least once a month,” Landon corrected. “Most of the time I find it mildly entertaining. Because I have to focus on the renaissance troupe – and that’s a whole lot of people – I don’t have the proper time to dedicate to this month’s freak-out.”

  “I promise not to freak out to the point where I end up in jail,” I offered.

  “Are you only saying that because Terry would never arrest you?”

  That was a loaded question. “Of course not.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I promise not to get arrested,” I said, fighting to keep the snark out of my tone. “What more do you want?”

  “Just a kiss.” Landon kissed me quickly. “Oh, and you’re buying me lunch because I know you’re lying.”

  Oh, well, at least he understood my limits. “BLT?”

  “You know it.”

  “Let’s go.” I slipped my hand into his. “I could use some soup and a sandwich myself.”

  We were almost out of the trees before Landon spoke again.

  “How relieved were you that they weren’t really cousins?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Me, too. I thought for sure I was going to have nightmares.”

  “Now your dreams are safe except for Aunt Tillie.”

  “And that recurring one I have where I wake up in a land without bacon,” Landon added. “That one is truly terrifying.”

  “You’re a freak sometimes. You know that, right?”

  “I’m fine with it.”

  Oddly enough, I was, too.

  Eighteen

  “So they’re not really related?”

  Chief Terry was flabbergasted when we related the story over lunch.

  “Apparently none of them are legitimately related by blood,” Landon replied. “It’s all an act they put on.”

  “Well, that changes things.”

  Landon quirked an eyebrow. “You think?”

  The entire scenario bothered me. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, although I wasn’t entirely sure why I was so rocked by the revelation. I was missing something … but couldn’t grasp what. “Can’t they get in trouble for lying to you?”

  Landon flicked his eyes to me. “What do you mean?”

  “They didn’t tell you the truth when you first interviewed them,” I replied. “Shouldn’t they have to tell you the truth no matter what?”

  “In theory,” Landon confirmed. “An argument could be made that we didn’t ask the right questions.”

  “Why would you think to ask if they were faking being related?”

  “Good point. Still, it seems like we should’ve realized they weren’t related. None of them look alike.”

  “I still think they’re responsible for this screw-up,” I grumbled, pushing my leftover fries around my plate. “I wonder if there’s any information online.”

  “If you want to help, you can start there,” Landon said, his eyes drifting toward the front door, his tone distracted. “In fact, I think that would be a good task for you.”

  Following his gaze, I found Scarlet Darksbane looking smug as she waved before sitting at a booth with Mrs. Little across the diner. She was so full of herself I wanted to slam my foot into her behind and listen to her cry while all the air seeped out of her oversized back tire.

  Whoa. I think I channeled Aunt Tillie there for a little bit. Things were definitely starting to get to me.

  “What was I saying again?” Landon asked, his eyes floating back to me.

  “I believe you were saying that you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” I prodded. I was only half joking. “As for handling the online search, I’d be more than happy to do that. I know you guys are going to have your hands full re-interviewing all of the fake Twiggs.”

  Landon’s grin was cheeky. “Why am I sleeping on the couch?”

  “You know why.”

  “Oh, are you jealous?” Landon poked my side, clearly enjoying himself.

  “I don’t know if ‘jealous’ is the word I’d use,” I replied, opting for honesty. “I know you wouldn’t cheat on me or anything.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

  “It’s still like a punch in the gut when you look at her the way you do.” I dug in my purse for money to leave a tip and stood. “I’ll be at the newspaper office if you need me. I might run over to Hypnotic later if I get bored or Brian is hanging around. It’s uncomfortable to share space with him right now.”

  Chief Terry’s eyes flashed. He was the key figure in making sure I would get The Whistler. After being removed from my position a few weeks ago because I was a suspect in a murder investigation (it’s a long story), Brian tried to maneuver me out. It backfired when Chief Terry rallied the business owners against him. Brian had no choice. He either had to sell the newspaper to me or go broke. That’s essentially how I became a business owner.

  “Has he been bothering you?”

  I immediately regretted bringing it up. “No. I barely see him. We don’t speak when we’re in the building together. It’s uncomfortable.”

  “It’s going to be more uncomfortable when I help you take over that main office,” Landon said. “I don’t care whether or not he’s ready to relinquish it. It belongs to you.”

  “It certainly does,” Chief Terry agreed. “I’ll help you move your stuff in there, too.”

  “Thank you.” I managed a smile. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll let you guys know if I find anything.”

  “We’ll do the same,” Chief Terry said.

  “Bay.” Landon called out to stop me.

  “What?”

  “You’re not really going to make me sleep on the couch, are you?”

  I risked a glance at Scarlet and found her staring in our direction, keen interest etched on her face. “I guess that depends,” I replied after a beat. “I’ll talk to you in a little bit.”

  “I’ll be waiting by my phone for your call,” Landon teased. “I might even cry because I miss you so much.”

  “You’re just saying things like that to irritate me,” I groused.

  “And you’re both managing to irritate me,” Chief Terry said. “So … knock it off.”

  “You guys are a tough crowd,” Landon said.

  “Or maybe you’re just really irritating when you want to be.” I paused by the front door. “Have you ever considered that you’re one big irritation?”

  “Sometimes I strive for it.” Landon’s smile was small but heartwarming. “I’ll call you in a bit. Try to stay out of trouble.”

  “Even I can’t do the impossible.”

  BRIAN WAS THANKFULLY not in the office when I entered. I wasn’t joking when I told Landon and Chief Terry that things were rough between us. Brian looked at it as if I stole something from him, hijacked the legacy his grandfather left him. I looked at it as if I was saving The Whistler, because Brian would’ve surely run it into the ground eventually.

  In truth, my motivations weren’t nearly as altruistic. I wanted the newspaper. I wanted to run it my way. I didn’t need a big profit. I simply needed enough to live on. I wasn’t keen on the idea of leveraging it into a marketing machine. I just wanted to create the best product I could realistically put out.

  Viola floated in my office when I entered. She seemed eager to see me, which was alarming because she’s full-on agitation when she gets goi
ng.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Living the dream,” I replied dryly. “Why do you care?”

  “Because that idiot in the front office has been here and he’s packing up,” Viola replied. “Are you guys closing the newspaper?”

  I knit my eyebrows as I realized Viola had no idea about the change in ownership. “No. I’m buying the newspaper from Brian. After the first of the year, The Whistler will be mine.”

  Whatever she was expecting, that wasn’t it. Viola – who doesn’t breathe, mind you – visibly deflated. “Oh, so he’s not trying to screw you over?” She sounded disappointed.

  “Not last time I checked,” I said. “He tried to screw me over a few weeks ago. That’s how I ended up with the newspaper.”

  “So … you beat him?”

  “I guess you could look at it that way.” I looked at it that way all the time. I simply didn’t admit it because it made me look petty.

  “Well, that’s good. I certainly like you better than him.” From Viola, that was high praise.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I wanted to mess with him,” Viola answered simply. “I’ve decided I’m going to start haunting people. I thought he should be my first test subject.”

  I pursed my lips, confused. “You’re going to start haunting people?”

  Viola bobbed her head. “I’m looking forward to it. I think it’s a little late in my life to pick up a career, but this could be a really fun hobby, so … why not?”

  Hmm. It’s never what you expect with her. The previous ghost that haunted The Whistler never changed. Even in death she remained a sometimes-terrible person. Viola didn’t mean to be terrible. She often was, but not on purpose. She was wild, though, and altogether funny at times. This was not one of those times.

  “How are you going to haunt people?” I asked. “I’m the only one who can see you. Well, Aunt Tillie can, but you and Aunt Tillie don’t get along. Clove and Thistle can occasionally hear you, but only if they’re around me when you start talking. No one else in town is likely to notice you when you’re acting up. Er, I mean embracing your new hobby.”

  Viola ignored my verbal flub. “That will change when I learn how to move items,” she countered. “That’s my new goal. I’m going to learn to affect my physical surroundings.”

  “And do you think you’ll be able to do it?”

  “I do.” Viola didn’t suffer from self-doubt. I liked that about her.

  “Okay, well … go nuts.”

  “Oh, I’m totally going to get nutty,” Viola agreed. “Do you care if I haunt Brian on his way out of the building?”

  Actually, that sounded mildly funny if she could pull it off. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

  “Great. I can’t wait. I’m going to start practicing now.”

  VIOLA REALIZED FAIRLY quickly that I wasn’t interested in watching her practice, so she left to do it elsewhere. I suggested Aunt Tillie might be interested and, because she was an instigator, Viola jumped at the prospect. That left me two hours on my own to research the fascinating Twigg family. What I found was interesting, to say the least.

  Brian was pulling into the parking lot when I left. I offered him a lame wave and he looked uncertain when he climbed out of the vehicle. I had no interest in talking to him, so I immediately volunteered that I was done in the office for the day and was heading to Hypnotic. He seemed relieved.

  Clove and Thistle sat on the couch flipping through catalogs when I entered Hypnotic. The store was empty, which made it easy to relate what I’d found.

  “I have so much to tell you guys,” I announced, slipping out of my coat.

  “Me, too,” Thistle said. “I stole a sample of whatever Aunt Tillie is keeping in her flask – she has a big bottle she’s trying to hide in her greenhouse and I snuck in after breakfast – and I’m going to have it analyzed.”

  The statement knocked me off course. “You’re going to have it analyzed?”

  “You bet.” Thistle bobbed her head. “I think that woman is a modern-day bootlegger, and I’m totally going to nail her.”

  Oh, well, good. That didn’t have “disaster” written all over it or anything. “How are you going to analyze it? Are you going to pay to send it to a lab or something?”

  “Of course not,” Thistle scoffed. “I’m going to drink it. I can tell the components of something when I drink it.”

  “Plus she ordered a chemistry set from Amazon,” Clove added. “It seems they really do have everything there.”

  “I think we learned that when Aunt Tillie kept showing up with leggings that should’ve been outlawed,” I said. “Well, if you want to give yourself another hangover I don’t see the point in stopping you. Have at it.”

  “Oh, that hangover was just a fluke.” Thistle was determined. “I’m going to figure out what that crazy old lady is up to if it kills me.”

  Given Aunt Tillie’s stamina, I thought that was a definite possibility. “So … I just ran into Brian.” I decided to change the subject because there was no way Thistle was going to beat Aunt Tillie on this one, but telling her that would start a fight and I was in no mood for a fight. At least with Thistle, I mean. I was in the mood for a fight with other people. Scarlet Darksbane sprang to mind, but that’s a discussion for later.

  “How was he?” Clove understood my discomfort and was sympathetic. “Is he still treating you like crap?”

  “He doesn’t treat me like anything. We’re uncomfortable around each other, and that’s not going to change. The good news is, he’s leaving town after he sells, so I won’t have to see him. At this point, I just want it to be over.”

  “It won’t be long before he’s gone, and we have Christmas in front of us,” Thistle noted. “That will be a big distraction. You guys don’t print Christmas week, so that’s less time you have to spend around him. Marcus and I plan to spend Christmas at the new house so you and Landon can have the guesthouse to yourselves.”

  “Really?” I was surprised. “Will the new house be ready?”

  “Not completely, but enough so we can enjoy it,” Thistle replied. “I figured we’d all spend Christmas Eve together and then break apart for Christmas Day.”

  “I like that idea, but I don’t think our mothers and Aunt Tillie will.”

  “They’ll live,” Thistle said. “You were going to tell us something else when you came in. What is it?”

  “Right.” I recovered from talk of Christmas – we still had weeks to worry about breaking the news to the family – and focused on the intriguing Twigg family. “So, none of the Twiggs are really related. They’re all hired actors. I guess Arthur and Adele are related – they’re married – but everyone else is hired help, and I found a ton of stuff on the internet about them.”

  “Wait … they’re not related?” Thistle made a face. “I thought their whole shtick was that they were a family of performers.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s a gimmick.” I got comfortable in the chair at the edge. I told them about Tess and Greg, what happened when Landon and I followed them into the woods, and how things shook out after. When I was done, Thistle was beside herself.

  “You know what? I don’t care if you’re faking being related, are related by blood or are related by marriage. It’s still gross when you make out with your cousin, whether it’s fake incest or not.”

  “It’s not incest,” Clove argued. “They’re actors. It’s no different from Peter Krause and Lauren Graham falling in love on the set of Parenthood. They played siblings on the show, but lived together in real life.”

  Hmm. She had a point. “It’s still gross,” I said after a beat. “The Twiggs are performing in person. That was a show. In person, even when randomly talking to people after they’re done performing, they don’t drop the family act.”

  “Bay is right,” Thistle said. “That’s all kinds of weird.”

  “That’s not all,” I said. “Apparently Adele Twigg was mean and mistre
ated most of the cast. It’s hard to find work in renaissance troupes, so people stayed despite her attitude, but she fired a bunch of them over the years. They even created a message board to compare notes and complain about her.”

  “Ah, the internet,” Thistle intoned. “The gift that keeps on giving. What did we do before we had a place to publicly complain about politics and former employers?”

  “I don’t remember. In this case, I’m glad the message board exists. It sounds like Adele was a real tyrant.”

  “Which could explain why she died the way she did,” Clove said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to kill her and then point the finger at someone else.”

  “Exactly.” I shuffled the stack of papers I’d printed at the newspaper office. “So, take Laurie Walker, for instance. She was the oldest daughter, Laurie Twigg, for three years. She said that Adele was such a micromanager that she told everyone how they had to keep their hair and what kind of clothes they could wear when they weren’t performing.”

  “That seems a bit much,” Thistle said. “You said she was with the group for three years. Why was she fired?”

  “Because she got pregnant,” I replied. “She was dating someone – thankfully not another fake Twigg, because I’m not okay with all of that – and she got pregnant. Apparently she didn’t want to marry the guy in real life and there was no way the character of Laurie Twigg could be a single mother, so Adele fired her.”

  “Is that even legal?” Clove asked. “I thought there were laws about firing people for pregnancy.”

  “There are, but apparently there’s something in the contracts about not being able to perform their duties, and a pregnancy directly infringed on Laurie’s ability to play the character of the oldest Twigg daughter,” I replied. “They didn’t even give her severance pay.”

  “I’m starting to think that Adele Twigg had a lot of enemies,” Thistle said. “Odds are that it was a member of her own troupe that killed her.”

  “I know.” I remained a bit disappointed that Scarlet Darksbane probably wasn’t responsible. I wanted to run her out of town as soon as possible. “There are hundreds of complaints on that message board. I printed them to show to Landon and Chief Terry.”