Something to Witch About (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 5) Page 4

  “I didn’t set it loose,” I argued. “I was just standing there.”

  “Well, someone set it loose.”

  “You know who it is, don’t you?” Thistle asked, her gaze fixed on Aunt Tillie.

  Aunt Tillie averted her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re lying,” Thistle challenged. “I can tell. You know who was buried out there.”

  Aunt Tillie pointed a gnarled finger in Thistle’s direction. “Don’t call me a liar.”

  “Oh, god,” I moaned. “You do know who was out there. Who is it?”

  “I told you, I don’t know who it is.”

  “And you’re lying,” Thistle pressed. So much for killing her with kindness.

  “Watch yourself, girl,” Aunt Tillie said. “I promised to be on my best behavior, but I’m not going to tolerate any of your sass.”

  I grabbed Aunt Tillie’s threatening finger, forcing her to focus on me. “You have to tell us what’s going on.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Dammit!”

  “Don’t swear,” Aunt Tillie warned. “And stay out of this.”

  “Aunt Tillie, the police are going to find out,” I said. “There’s a forensic team out there right now collecting the body.”

  “Well, good for them,” she sniffed. “A whole yard full of narcs. It must be my lucky day.”

  I sucked in a calming breath. “This is going to blow up in your face if you don’t tell us what’s going on.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I’m old. I’m senile. I can’t help that.”

  Aunt Tillie only used her age as a crutch when she was hiding something. When she’s wreaking havoc, though, you’d swear she was thirty-five.

  “Is that going to be your defense in court?” Thistle challenged. “If so, you might want to work on your befuddlement before it gets to a jury.”

  Aunt Tillie glared at Thistle. “You’re pushing your luck.”

  Thistle met my gaze and I shook my head. “We can’t,” I said. “Landon’s family is out there.”

  Thistle clenched her jaw. “This is going to blow up, whether you want it to or not.”

  Aunt Tillie brushed past her and pushed opened the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room. We all froze when we saw Landon standing on the other side eyeing us. “Ladies.”

  Aunt Tillie regarded him coldly. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  “I was just coming to get you,” Landon replied. “Your company is required for some pre-dinner drinks.”

  Aunt Tillie smiled widely, although I could still see the worry reflected in her brown eyes. “Good. I could use some hooch.”

  “I think we all could,” Thistle grumbled.

  I watched the two of them leave before focusing on Landon. “Were you eavesdropping?”

  Landon ignored the question and held out his hand. “Let’s get something to drink.”

  Five

  “As usual, this looks wonderful, ladies.”

  Chief Terry had agreed to join us for dinner. Not only was he a fan of the Winchester cooking gene, he was also a fan of the constant attention my mother and aunts showered upon him every time he visited. Each one of them was determined to snag him – and he was comfortable with all effort exerted during the attempts.

  “Yes, it looks great,” Earl agreed. “What is this?”

  “It’s a braised pork loin,” Twila said. “We brine it and soak it for two days. It makes the meat really tender.”

  Daryl forked a piece of meat into his mouth, groaning with appreciation. “I think I just died and went to heaven.”

  Mom basked in the compliment. “There’s fresh bread, too.”

  “You baked this yourself?” Denny asked, grabbing a roll and breaking it apart. “Oh, it’s still warm.”

  Landon watched his brothers, amusement flitting across his face. “Mom isn’t a big cook,” he said. “This is a real treat for everyone.”

  Connie bristled. “I can cook,” she argued. “I just choose not to.”

  Landon rolled his eyes. “You can’t cook.”

  Earl rubbed his wife’s shoulders. “You’re a wonderful cook, honey.”

  “Don’t placate me.”

  “I need more wine,” Aunt Tillie announced.

  She was sitting at the head of the table to my left, while Landon’s thigh was pressed snugly against mine on the right. He wasn’t saying it, but I had a feeling he was still shaken by this afternoon’s activities.

  “You don’t need any more wine,” Mom replied. “You’ve had enough.”

  “I made the wine,” Aunt Tillie countered. “I can drink as much of it as I want.”

  Earl looked impressed. “You make your own wine, too? Wow.”

  “I make the wine,” Aunt Tillie stressed. “Me.”

  “She makes great wine,” Kenneth said. I wasn’t sure when he’d arrived at the inn, but he was now firmly entrenched in the seat next to Aunt Tillie. “Everything she does is great.”

  “And who are you?” Blanche asked from the far end of the table. It was the first time she’d spoken since dinner began.

  “I’m Kenneth.”

  “He’s Aunt Tillie’s … friend,” Clove supplied.

  “Her boyfriend,” Thistle teased.

  “Listen, sass mouth, eat your dinner and shut up,” Aunt Tillie ordered.

  Thistle glowered but said nothing. For their part, Daryl and Denny seemed amused by the dinner theater.

  I rubbed my forehead ruefully. “I could use some more wine.”

  Landon grabbed the bottle from the center of the table, pulling the cork with his teeth, and poured fresh glasses for both of us.

  “So, tell us about the body,” Daryl said.

  “It wasn’t a body,” Chief Terry said. “It was bones. Old bones.”

  “And how did the three of you fall in the hole?” Denny asked.

  “The ground gave way,” Chief Terry replied, purposely evasive. “It was an accident.”

  “And you don’t have to be out there now?” Connie asked, frowning as she watched Marnie and Mom add food to his plate.

  “The state forensic team will take the bones and do the autopsy,” Chief Terry shrugged. “I won’t have anything to do until I have more information.”

  “And you don’t have to do anything with this case?” Connie turned to Landon.

  “I’m on vacation this week,” Landon replied. “Besides, this isn’t really a case for the FBI.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because, even if the individual was murdered, it happened a long time ago,” Landon explained. “It’s not really a pressing matter.”

  “So, tell me about yourself, Kenneth,” Blanche broke in.

  I shifted my shoulders so I could see her. She eyed Kenneth as though he was the blue ribbon pie at the county fair. Uh-oh.

  “I own a construction company,” Kenneth replied. “My grandson runs it now, but it’s still my company.”

  “That must be exciting,” Blanche said, her voice breathy.

  I shot Landon a questioning look. He shrugged in response. He was clearly at a loss.

  “Not really,” Kenneth said. “It’s a way to pay the bills, though.”

  “And you make good money doing it?” Blanche pressed.

  Aunt Tillie swallowed the rest of her wine and shoved her glass in my direction. “Fill it.”

  “Mom said no more wine.”

  “I’m an adult. I say when I’ve had enough.”

  I glanced at Mom for permission. She looked torn. Landon filled Aunt Tillie’s glass, ignoring Mom’s accusatory stare.

  “And this is why I like him,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “You didn’t like me a couple of hours ago,” Landon reminded her.

  “That’s because you were in narc mode,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “Ah.”

  “So, Landon says you two own a magic shop,” Denny said,
trying to turn the conversation to a safer topic by focusing on Thistle and Clove. “It’s called Hypnotic, right? That must be cool.”

  “It is,” Clove said. “You should stop by.”

  “Do you have devil-worshipping stuff in there?” Connie asked pointedly.

  “Um, no.”

  Thistle frowned. “There’s no devil in the craft.”

  “And what craft are you referring to?” Connie asked.

  “Witchcraft.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I think what Thistle is saying is that their shop is really full of incense and candles.”

  “That’s not what I was saying,” Thistle countered.

  “That’s not what she was saying,” Aunt Tillie agreed.

  “Drink your wine,” I growled.

  “So, Kenneth, what happened to your wife?” Blanche asked.

  Oh, good Goddess.

  “She died.”

  “A long time ago?”

  “A good number of years.” Kenneth seemed confused by Blanche’s questions. Aunt Tillie understood what was going on, though.

  “Why do you care?” Aunt Tillie asked, her tone cool.

  “Who says I care?” Blanche said.

  “Drink your wine,” Earl instructed Blanche.

  “So, Bay, you run the local newspaper,” Denny said, clearly desperate now. “That must be exciting.”

  “It has its moments,” I said. “That’s how I met your brother.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Denny said. “Landon never really told us how you met.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Landon had been undercover when we met. It made sense he wouldn’t have told his family the specifics of the case. “Um, yeah.”

  Landon shifted next to me. “I can’t talk about my cases.”

  “She seems to know about it,” Daryl pointed out.

  “She was there when the drug dealers hit the fan,” Aunt Tillie said. “We all were.”

  “Drink your wine,” Mom commanded.

  Connie puckered her lips. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what kind of FBI case involves all of you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered so only Landon could hear me.

  He squeezed my hand under the table. “They just happened to stumble on a crime scene.”

  “You mean we solved the case for you,” Aunt Tillie said.

  Landon leveled an angry gaze on Aunt Tillie. “You solved the case for me?”

  I put my hand on Aunt Tillie’s arm. “Drink your wine.”

  “You wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for us,” Aunt Tillie said, ignoring my comment.

  “You’re the reason I got shot,” Landon practically exploded.

  “You were shot!” Connie was on her feet, her face ashen.

  Uh-oh.

  “You didn’t tell your mother you were shot?” Marnie was flabbergasted. “You should always tell your mother when you’re shot.”

  “Shut up, Mom,” Clove said, tugging the arm of her mother’s shirt.

  “Son, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were shot,” Earl said. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” Landon said, patting his chest. “See, I’m fine. Everything turned out fine.”

  “But these people, you told these people,” Connie said. “You told these people and not your own family.”

  “He didn’t tell them,” Chief Terry supplied. I think he was trying to help. “They were there when it happened.”

  “You were there?” Connie’s voice was shrill.

  “We weren’t,” Twila offered. “Just Bay and Aunt Tillie.”

  Connie took in a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself. “And why were you there?”

  “We were looking for murderers,” Aunt Tillie replied. “We knew they were hanging out in the corn maze, so that’s where we went. We’re law-abiding citizens and we were there to solve a crime.”

  “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to drown you in that wine,” I threatened.

  “Why were you in a corn maze?” Connie asked her son.

  “Because I had to be,” Landon said, sighing. “I can’t talk about this.”

  “Everyone at the table already seems to know,” Connie pointed out.

  “That was an accident, nothing more.”

  Connie let Earl pull her back down to a sitting position. Her face was murderous, though. “Is she the reason you got shot?”

  Connie didn’t identify which “she” she was referring to, but I knew it was me. “Mrs. Michaels … .”

  Connie held up a hand, stopping me mid-sentence. “I am talking to my son.”

  Landon’s jaw clenched. “Will you not do this now? Please?”

  “I want to know if she’s the reason you got shot,” Connie pressed. “Is that … woman the reason my boy almost died?”

  My heart sank.

  “Connie,” Earl warned.

  “Mom,” Landon growled.

  “I need more wine,” Aunt Tillie announced.

  “Yes,” I said, my voice small. “It was my fault.”

  Landon stiffened next to me. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Then whose fault was it?”

  Landon ran his hand down the back of my head. “It was an accident.”

  Chief Terry focused on Connie. “Ma’am, I was there that night. Nothing that happened was on purpose. Things just kind of … spiraled out of control.”

  “And yet she’s still to blame, isn’t she?” Connie said. “If she hadn’t been there, my son wouldn’t have been shot.”

  “Don’t you blame her,” Aunt Tillie said. “He was the one undercover with a bunch of meth heads he couldn’t control.”

  Connie fanned herself. “Oh, God help me.”

  “Connie, maybe you should go and lie down,” Earl prodded.

  “Don’t handle me!”

  “Don’t you yell at my dinner table!” Aunt Tillie was on her feet.

  “Don’t you yell at my niece,” Blanche countered. “She has a right to be upset. Your niece got her son shot.”

  “Oh, she did not,” Aunt Tillie scoffed. “He got himself shot.”

  I stared down at my plate, recrimination washing over me. Landon wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pressed his lips to the side of my head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  I knew he meant it but, the truth was, if we hadn’t been in the corn maze that night things would’ve turned out differently. I opened my mouth to argue but Landon slapped his hand over my mouth. “No!”

  Everyone at the table hushed when they heard the tone of his voice.

  “I’m not dealing with this,” Landon said. “I should’ve told you I was shot. That’s on me. Bay is not the reason I was shot, and I’m not going to listen to this anymore.”

  “But … .”

  Landon pointed the index finger of his free hand at his mother, keeping the other hand fixed firmly over my mouth. “I said ‘no.’”

  The table lapsed into silence. After a full minute, Landon finally pulled his hand from my mouth.

  I had lost my appetite, so I pushed the food around my plate to keep my hands busy. Finally, I felt Aunt Tillie’s eyes on me so I focused on her. I was surprised when she reached over and patted my hand. “You’ve had a really crummy day, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve had better,” I agreed.

  “Drink some wine. You’ll feel better.”

  I wanted to argue, but Landon was already filling my glass.

  The silence was shattered by the sound of breaking dishes in the other room.

  “What was that?” Connie asked.

  “Is anyone else in the house?” Landon asked.

  I shook my head. Chief Terry and Landon were already at the door, though, so he didn’t see the gesture.

  Chief Terry pulled his gun while Landon pushed open the door. “What the hell?”

  I moved to Landon’s side and peered in the room. Every dish that we’d left on the counter had been smashed – a
nd yet the room was empty. Chief Terry and Landon moved to the back of the house, searching to make sure it was empty.

  I knew what it was, though. I turned my head so I could see Aunt Tillie. She was focused on me. “There’s no one here,” I said.

  “It must have been a small earthquake,” Aunt Tillie replied.

  “Yeah, that’s what it must have been.”

  Something told me the white shadow from the hole was to blame. Could my life get any worse?

  Six

  “Well, that was an … eventful dinner,” Landon said as we walked back to the guesthouse alone two hours later.

  “If you mean that was hell, I totally agree.”

  Landon sighed. He looked whipped. “Bay, I’m sorry for what my mother said to you.”

  “You mean the truth?”

  Landon stopped in the middle of the trail. “No.”

  I kept walking, even as Landon stayed behind. His eyes bored a hole into my back. I could practically feel his anger. Finally, I stilled, too, but I couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “Come here.”

  I finally met his blue eyes but didn’t do as ordered.

  “Come here,” he said again.

  I remained several paces ahead of him.

  Landon growled as he closed the distance between us, wrapping his arm around my wrist. “It wasn’t the truth.”

  “If I’m not the reason you got shot, who is?”

  Landon shrugged. “Fate?”

  “You don’t believe in fate,” I said.

  “I never said that.”

  His answer surprised me. “You believe in fate? You?”

  “I believe that things happen for a reason,” he said. “I believe that you were out in that corn maze for a reason. If you weren’t there … if Aunt Tillie wasn’t there … things might’ve been different.”

  “Yeah. You might not have been shot.”

  “No,” Landon agreed. “I might not have been. Have you ever considered, though, that I might have been shot and bled to death in that corn maze because you weren’t there?”

  I placed my tongue in my cheek, considering. That thought hadn’t occurred to me.

  “That’s what I thought,” Landon said. “Bay, we can’t go back and change what happened. I was shot. You were there. I’m fine now. You’re fine now. Things worked out the way they were supposed to.”