Something to Witch About (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 5) Page 22

  “He probably succumbed to his injuries afterward,” Mrs. Little said. “They left him there to die alone.”

  I shook my head. “No. They only thought that’s what happened.”

  “I think you’re mistaken,” Mrs. Little said, pressing her lips together so tightly they’d gone white.

  “Someone came to the house after they left,” I said.

  “It wasn’t me!”

  “I didn’t say it was you,” I replied. “It was Mr. Little.”

  “No … .” Mrs. Little faltered. “I told you, Bob didn’t know.”

  “Bob knew. He found Floyd unconscious on the floor.”

  “That doesn’t mean he did anything,” Mrs. Little argued.

  I remained quiet.

  Mrs. Little whimpered. “What did he do?”

  I kept my tone even. “He knelt down and checked his pulse. Then he got back up, picked up the phone, and then he put it back down. I thought he was going to call the police or an ambulance, but he didn’t. Instead, he picked up a towel from the counter and knelt back down.”

  “No. Don’t.”

  “He pressed that towel to Floyd’s face, covering his nose and mouth, and then he just waited. Floyd’s legs kicked a couple of times, but he never regained consciousness. Then, when it was over, Mr. Little got up and left.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  Part of me wanted to ask why Mrs. Little wasn’t questioning the validity of my story. The other part of me, though – the bigger part of me – knew. “He said that you were his wife and it was going to stay that way.”

  “Oh, Bob.”

  “You knew all of this, though, didn’t you?”

  Mrs. Little refused to meet my gaze.

  “Because Mr. Little told you before he died,” I continued. “I’m not sure when he told you, but he told you.”

  “Does it matter now? Floyd is gone. Bob is gone. Let it be. Don’t you dare tarnish my husband’s good name.”

  “You were willing to tarnish Aunt Tillie’s name,” I pointed out.

  “Tillie has done some terrible things over the years,” Mrs. Little countered. “Floyd could’ve died on that floor and she wouldn’t have cared. She left him there to die!”

  “He deserved to die! Do you have any idea what he was doing to his wife?”

  “Maybe she deserved it,” Mrs. Little replied. “Maybe she asked for it. Maybe she made it so he had no choice but to do it to her.”

  I felt inexplicably sad for her. “No one asks for that,” I said, getting to my feet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To talk to Chief Terry.”

  “And you think he’s going to believe your little vision?”

  I knew he would. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still telling him the truth.”

  Mrs. Little jumped to her feet. “Your family is terrible. You are terrible. If you do this, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Mrs. Little, I don’t want you to forgive me. Knowing what you know, you were willing to pin all of the blame on Aunt Tillie. That makes you a coward. You also knew what Floyd was doing to his wife. Instead of admitting what you did was wrong and trying to help her you blamed her. That makes you the worst kind of woman.”

  “Oh, really? What kind of woman is that?”

  “The kind who makes excuses for wife beaters and abusers,” I said. I opened the door, pausing before walking through it. “It’s probably good you weren’t a mother,” I said. “Passing on morals like yours would’ve made for one really messed-up kid.”

  I could hear Mrs. Little sobbing as I left, but I didn’t turn around. I was done with her. She was worse than her husband in my book.

  Thirty-Five

  When I got back to the inn, I found Landon sitting on the front porch swing. He glanced at me as I approached, but his mood was hard to gauge.

  I sat down on the swing, making sure not to touch him, and then joined in with his gentle swinging rhythm.

  “Where were you?”

  “I went to see Mrs. Little to tell her what I saw last night,” I said. “Then I went and told Chief Terry.”

  “We never got around to that,” Landon said. “What did you see?”

  I told him, laying the whole thing out. When I was done, I waited for his reaction.

  “Well, I guess we know why Aunt Tillie buried the body,” he said. “She thought she had killed him.”

  “I still don’t understand why she didn’t call the police,” I said. “She was protecting Mrs. Gunderson. The cops would’ve understood.”

  “If you can explain the inner workings of Aunt Tillie’s mind to me that would be some sort of miracle.”

  I risked a glance at Landon, but his attention was focused on the landscaping. “I thought about what you said this morning.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “You’re right.”

  Landon let out a shaky sigh.

  “You’re wrong, too.”

  “How am I wrong?”

  “I didn’t tell you about the séance for two reasons,” I explained. “The first was because I didn’t want you to be hurt. I didn’t want me to get hurt either,” I added hurriedly. “I didn’t expect anything bad to happen.”

  “You had an idea it could, though,” Landon said. “That’s why I’m angry.”

  “Fine. You have a right to be angry. You’ve earned it. You’ve put up with a lot of crap. Most people would’ve run when faced with all this crap.”

  “I did run at first,” Landon reminded me. “I did walk away.”

  “You came back, though. You needed time to think. I get that. We’re … difficult.” Heck, we idled at difficult. “When you came back, though, you weren’t constantly throwing stuff in my face. I appreciate how hard that was for you. I appreciate what a … sacrifice dating me has been for you.”

  “What sacrifice?” Landon finally looked at me.

  “We’re crazy,” I said. “We’re hard to deal with. Our lives defy definition or order. You don’t have to put up with that – and yet you do.”

  “It’s not a sacrifice,” Landon growled.

  “I know that’s not true.”

  “It’s not a sacrifice,” Landon said, reaching for my hand and then pulling away before touching me. The gesture hurt more than it should. “You said there were two reasons you didn’t tell me. What’s the second?”

  “I’m afraid,” I admitted. “I’m afraid that one too many séance, or one too many ghost, or one too many of Aunt Tillie’s curses is going to push you over the edge.”

  “And what do you think is over the edge?”

  I shrugged. “An easier life. A life away from us.”

  “So you think that, at some point, I’m going to walk away again,” Landon said. “I guess I deserve that.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I protested.

  “I know, but that’s where your fear comes from,” Landon said. “Bay, I can’t tell you what the future holds. This is all still new – and different. I can tell you, though, that it’s not magic and your crazy family that’s going to drive me away. It’s you not telling me the truth. It’s you pushing me away and internalizing everything, which seems to be your default mode when faced with a tough situation.”

  Tears pricked at my eyes. “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you the truth – even when I think it’s going to drive you bonkers.”

  Landon laughed, reaching his arm over so he could drape it across my shoulders and pull me closer. He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “That’s all I ask.”

  “Well, since we’re telling the truth, I should tell you I have raging PMS and I’m starving.”

  Landon cringed. “That’s an overshare.”

  “You wanted the truth.”

  “I guess I did.”

  “I’m actually feeling bloated.”

  “Don’t push it.”

  “I also have to talk to Aunt Tillie,” said. “I need to tell her
what I saw.”

  Landon rubbed his thumb over my shoulder. “Well, she’s inside with Kenneth – and Aunt Blanche. She’s probably ready for some good news.”

  “What is Kenneth doing here? I thought she was done with him?”

  Landon smiled. “It’s not so easy to forget a Winchester woman.”

  He’s too cute for his own good.

  I FOUND Aunt Tillie in the kitchen, leaving Landon to join his family around the dinner table. I wanted to get this over with.

  “We didn’t get a chance to talk last night.”

  “No,” Aunt Tillie agreed. “The antics of Daryl and Denny threw us all off our game.”

  “I saw what happened.”

  Aunt Tillie sighed. “You saw what I did to Floyd?”

  “I saw you beat the crap out of him with a rolling pin,” I said. “I saw Uncle Calvin come in and stop you. I saw the two of you leave with Mrs. Gunderson.”

  “Then you know I lied, that I’m the one who killed Floyd,” Aunt Tillie said. “The question is, what are you going to do with that information?”

  “I’ve already been to Chief Terry,” I said.

  Aunt Tillie stiffened. “What did he say?”

  “He said Floyd deserved your beating.”

  “Well, I guess that’s something. Is he going to arrest me?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “That’s not all there is to the story,” I offered softly.

  “What?”

  “There was more to the memory,” I said. “I saw more after the three of you left.”

  “You saw us come back for the body?”

  “No, but I do have a question about that,” I said. “How did you manage to bury him alone?”

  “I didn’t bury him,” Aunt Tillie said. “Calvin did. He went back and found the body and then he took care of Floyd. He only told me after the fact.”

  Realization washed over me. “That’s why you didn’t know where Floyd was buried,” I said. “You wouldn’t have let construction on the greenhouse progress if you knew. I never could reconcile that fact. You’re too smart for that.”

  “He never told me,” Aunt Tillie said. “I assumed he buried him in the woods. I have no idea why he buried him on the property – and it’s too late to ask.”

  “That probably wasn’t the smartest move,” I said.

  “Your uncle wasn’t a criminal mastermind,” Aunt Tillie said. “I kind of liked that about him.”

  “What would you have done?”

  “I would have burned the body in a fire pit,” Aunt Tillie said. “Then I would’ve scattered the bones out at the Hollow Creek.”

  “You’ve given this some thought, I see.”

  “Floyd isn’t the first body I’ve thought about disposing of,” Aunt Tillie admitted.

  I decided to let that one slide. “Anyway, about the rest of the memory … .”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “I think you need to know.”

  “All right. Tell me.”

  “Someone else came in the house after you left,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “Bob Little.”

  Aunt Tillie shifted her jaw back and forth as she absorbed the news. “What did he do?”

  “He smothered Floyd and then left him on the floor.”

  “So, I didn’t kill him.”

  “No. You should also know that Mrs. Little knew.”

  “She knew?” Aunt Tillie was incensed.

  “I don’t know when she found out,” I said. “I saw her this afternoon.”

  “And she admitted she knew? All this time and she knew?”

  “She didn’t actually admit it,” I countered. “She didn’t deny it, though. She asked me not to go to Chief Terry.”

  “But you did.”

  “I did.”

  “Good for you.”

  “There’s nothing he can do about it anyway,” I said. “Mr. Little is gone. Chief Terry says they can’t prove murder. It’s going to go in the books as an unexplained death.”

  “Floyd doesn’t deserve anything more,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “He was still murdered.”

  “Justifiable homicide.”

  “I find it interesting that Uncle Calvin was willing to cover up what he thought was a murder you committed,” I said.

  “The man was always a fool for love.”

  “It seems to me you must have done something to earn that love.”

  “I did,” Aunt Tillie said. “I picked a good man.”

  I smiled. “I guess you did.”

  “You have, too,” Aunt Tillie said. “He’s a little bossy for my taste, but he’s still a good man.”

  “He is.”

  “How did you leave things?”

  “With Landon? We made up.”

  “Not with Landon.”

  I furrowed my brow and then realized who she was talking about. “Mrs. Little said we’re terrible people and she would never forgive me.”

  “Does that upset you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she said that Mrs. Gunderson probably deserved her beating and drove Floyd to it,” I replied. “I don’t think I want to be friends with a woman who could believe something like that.”

  “She’s damaged,” Aunt Tillie agreed. “She’s always been damaged.”

  “She’s lost,” I corrected. “I have a certain amount of … pity for her.”

  “Don’t waste your pity on people who don’t deserve it, Bay. Lavish it on those who do.”

  Aunt Tillie shuffled toward the dining room door.

  “I have one more question,” I said.

  Aunt Tillie stilled. “I guess you’ve earned it.”

  “Why aren’t you friends with Mrs. Gunderson anymore? You would think, after all you’ve been through together, you would be close.”

  “There are different kinds of friends in this world,” Aunt Tillie said. “After Floyd died, Ginny just wanted to pretend none of it ever happened. That meant distancing herself from me.”

  “That didn’t upset you?”

  “I understood it.”

  “Still.”

  “That doesn’t mean we’re not friends, Bay. It just means we’re friends from afar.”

  That didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I let it go. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

  “Landon’s family leaves tomorrow,” Aunt Tillie said. “I guess everything is back to normal after that.”

  Not everything. “What about Floyd?”

  “Once the Michaels family leaves, we’ll take care of Floyd.” Her tone was ominous – but Floyd had earned nothing less than Aunt Tillie’s wrath. May the Goddess have mercy on his horrible soul.

  Thirty-Six

  “Is everything okay?”

  Landon’s plate was heaped with food, and he’d already started in on it, but he turned his attention to me as I settled into my chair. I glanced at Aunt Tillie. “Everything is fine.”

  “I can’t believe this is our last meal here,” Earl said, smiling happily. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds this week. Seriously, I’ve never had better food.”

  “I think it’s a little bland,” Blanche interjected from the end of the table.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Thistle grip her fork weapon-like as she eyed Blanche with overt dislike.

  “What are you talking about?” Kenneth said. Mom had wisely seated him far from Blanche, instead placing him next to Aunt Tillie. She always was a meddler. “This is the best pot roast ever made.”

  “I agree,” Chief Terry said. “Pot roast is my favorite.”

  “You know what my favorite is?” Blanche asked.

  “No one cares,” Connie said. “Eat your dinner.”

  A glance at the end of the table told me that Daryl was enjoying his meal, but Denny seemed lost in thought. I nudged Landon’s knee with mine. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s havi
ng a crisis of faith,” Landon said. “He’ll be fine.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Maybe I should talk to him.”

  “He’s afraid of you right now.”

  “He’s afraid of me?”

  “Well, it’s more like he’s afraid of Aunt Tillie,” Landon said, his voice low. “She banished a ghost with nothing more than two words and a clap of her hands. That’s pretty shocking when you’re not used to seeing it.”

  “She didn’t banish him,” I replied. “She just kind of kicked him in the balls.”

  Landon barked out a laugh, causing a few heads at the table to shift in our direction. Landon ignored them. “You have a way with words,” he whispered.

  At least he wasn’t still angry.

  “I hear the mystery of the bones was solved today,” Connie said, focusing on Chief Terry. “That’s got to be a relief.”

  “I don’t know if it’s been solved,” Chief Terry replied, shooting a look in my direction. “More like it’s been put to rest.”

  “What does that mean?” Denny asked, shifting in his chair.

  “It means that the coroner can’t find a cause of death,” Chief Terry replied. “Without a cause of death, we can’t prove a murder.”

  “So the guilty party just gets away with it?”

  “We don’t know that there was a guilty party,” Chief Terry said. “We know that Floyd Gunderson was a real SOB and we know there was any number of people in this town who wouldn’t mind seeing him dead.

  “We also know that Floyd was a drunk who very well could’ve drank himself to death,” Chief Terry continued. “If he was murdered, for all we know, the killer could already be dead.”

  “So, that’s it?” Connie asked.

  “That’s it.”

  “What happens now?” Earl asked.

  “Now we release Floyd’s remains to Mrs. Gunderson,” Chief Terry replied. “She’ll probably have some sort of service for him.”

  “And that’s it,” Denny mused. “It seems somehow … anticlimactic.”

  “It does,” Chief Terry agreed. “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though.”

  I took a bite of pot roast, my stomach urging me to eat faster with a few small rumbles. Landon raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?”