Something to Witch About (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 5) Read online

  “Still … .”

  “Still, nothing,” Landon said. “I don’t want to hear about this again. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  “Tell that to your mother,” I grumbled.

  “I should’ve told them what happened,” Landon conceded. “I can’t go back in time and fix that either.”

  “Why didn’t you? Tell them, I mean.”

  “You know why,” he said. “My mother is a little … high strung.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it?”

  “She’s just protective,” Landon explained. “She’s not a bad person.”

  “I didn’t say she was a bad person.” Never attack a man’s mother.

  “I know.”

  “She just doesn’t like me.”

  Landon barked out a laugh. “She doesn’t know you.”

  “She knows that she doesn’t like me.”

  “My mother has never liked any woman I’ve dated.”

  “How many women have you dated?”

  Landon shook his head. “That’s a trap, missy, and I’m not falling into it.”

  “Fine,” I said, opting for a different tactic. “How many women has she met?”

  Landon rolled his head, cracking his neck. “A few.”

  A few? That was disheartening. “And why didn’t she like them?”

  “She’s never liked anyone that any of us have dated,” Landon said. “Not one.”

  I felt better – if only marginally. “Not one?”

  “Not one.”

  Landon rubbed his thumb over the inside of my wrist. “Bay, she’ll come around.”

  What if she doesn’t? I didn’t voice my concerns, though. “Okay.”

  Landon pulled me to him, pressing his lips to mine gently. “I promise this will all work out.”

  I sank into him, letting his warmth wash over me. I was still filled with doubts, but his presence was enough to push them away for the time being.

  We stood, wrapped together and let the night sounds engulf us. It was only spring, but the crickets were already in full throat. Aunt Tillie said crickets were signs of luck. I was choosing to believe that little nugget of wisdom – or maybe I just needed some shred of hope to cling to.

  Landon seemed reluctant to break the moment but, finally, he took a step back. “I do have something I want to talk to you about, though.”

  “I knew this was coming.”

  Landon kept his arms on my shoulders, seemingly unwilling to let me move too far away. “What was that thing in the hole?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer. Landon was growing accustomed to our witchy ways, but there were times skittishness took hold of him. I was fearful this would be one of those times.

  “Aunt Tillie says it’s a poltergeist.”

  Landon frowned. “Like the movie?”

  I shrugged. “I guess. I’ve never seen one before.”

  “So you honestly didn’t know what it was?”

  I shook my head, my blonde hair brushing against my shoulders. “I had no idea. Why? Did you think I was lying to you?”

  “No, not lying. I thought maybe you didn’t want to tell me in front of Chief Terry.”

  “Is that different from lying?”

  Landon chuckled. “I guess not. I thought there was a chance that you just didn’t want to say until we were alone.”

  “And you would’ve been okay with that?” That didn’t sound like the Landon I knew.

  Landon moved a hand from my shoulder to my neck, rubbing small circles in the tender spot behind my ear with his thumb as he thought about his answer. “I don’t want you lying to me,” he clarified. “I also understand that you can’t always tell me exactly what’s going on when someone else is around.”

  “Chief Terry knows about us,” I reminded him.

  “I know,” Landon said, exhaling heavily. “That doesn’t mean you tell him everything.”

  “And you think I tell you everything?”

  “I hope so.”

  I considered the statement. “I want to tell you everything,” I admitted. “Well, not everything. I don’t think you need to know when I have cramps.”

  Landon’s chest shook with silent laughter. “No. I don’t need to know that.” He paused momentarily. “Then tell me what you, Thistle and Aunt Tillie were talking about in the kitchen.”

  This was a test – and I knew it. “Weren’t you eavesdropping?”

  “Are you going to be angry if I was?”

  “No.”

  “Really?” Landon didn’t look convinced.

  “Really.”

  “Yes, I was eavesdropping,” he admitted. “I didn’t come in until halfway through the conversation, though.”

  “Well, you didn’t miss much,” I replied.

  “So Aunt Tillie won’t admit she knows who the body belongs to?”

  “No.”

  “But you think she does?”

  “So does Thistle.”

  Landon pressed his body closer to mine, allowing me to rest the side of my head against his shoulder. He swayed back and forth slowly, thinking. Finally he spoke. “Who do you think it is?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “And she doesn’t have any husbands she’s failed to mention, right?”

  I laughed, despite myself. “No.”

  “What about your Uncle Calvin? He died of natural causes, right?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “And Aunt Tillie would never hurt Uncle Calvin. He was the love of her life.”

  “Then why did she turn him into that wind monster?”

  I pulled back slightly, my mind wandering to the incident in question. A few months ago, when a crazed drug runner from Canada had taken us all hostage, Aunt Tillie called upon vengeance to protect us. That vengeance had taken the form of my long-dead Uncle Calvin, a man I had no memories of and knew only from photos.

  “That wasn’t Uncle Calvin,” I said.

  “You said it looked like him,” Landon prodded.

  “My Uncle Calvin didn’t have a mean bone in his body,” I explained. “He was … an angel.”

  “I would think he’d have to be the devil to marry Aunt Tillie.”

  “He loved her,” I said. “Sometimes … sometimes people are different.”

  “Aunt Tillie was different?” Landon looked doubtful.

  “I don’t know,” I said, laughing softly. “I wasn’t alive back then. I’ve only known her as she is now. My mom says that they were really sweet together, that he doted on her.”

  “And what about her?”

  “From what I can tell, she doted on him, too,” I said. “She was lost when he died.”

  “I understand that. I still don’t understand about the wind monster, though.”

  “That wasn’t really Uncle Calvin,” I said. “That was … her.”

  “Her?”

  “Her rage.”

  Landon was dumbfounded. “I don’t understand.”

  “Aunt Tillie was the one who gave the spell form,” I answered. “She’s the one who gave form to her anger – and it was her anger that fueled the spell.”

  “And she made it look like him?”

  “She did.”

  Landon rubbed his hand across my back thoughtfully. “Why did she make it look like him?”

  I shrugged. “Because that’s what she’s angry about.”

  “I thought she loved him?”

  “She did,” I replied. “She does. It’s just that … she’s angry he died.”

  Landon clucked understandingly. “So, when she’s angry, it’s his face she sees.”

  “Exactly.”

  Landon was quiet for a few seconds. “If it’s not Calvin, who is it then?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just don’t know.”

  Even though it was spring, the night air was growing cold. It was still too early for the rare balmy night a lower Northern Michigan evening could offer.

  Landon pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Let’s g
o inside.”

  “Okay.”

  “You owe me some righteous sex,” he said, opting to break the serious mood.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did you sit through that dinner?” Landon said, chuckling. “I need someone to console me.”

  I pulled away, fixing him with a pointed stare. “What if I need consoling?”

  Landon pinched my rear. “I think we can console each other.”

  I squealed as he chased me back to the guesthouse. Things were looking up.

  Seven

  “Let’s eat breakfast here.”

  Landon was standing at the counter in the guesthouse’s small kitchen, drinking a cup of a coffee, his hair still wet from the morning shower. “We have to go up there.”

  “No, we don’t,” I argued. “We could spend the whole day in bed. You always want to do that. I’ll do whatever dirty things you want.”

  It was the next morning. We were both showered and dressed, and yet I was dragging my feet. I so did not want to see Landon’s mother.

  Landon narrowed his eyes, considering my offer. “They would just come down here looking for us.”

  That sounded like the opposite of fun. “Fine.”

  Thistle breezed into the kitchen. The guesthouse is really like a small ranch house, everything on one floor, except for a dark and dank basement where the furnace and water heater hummed and bubbled. Thistle, Clove and I each had our own bedroom, all situated around a spacious living room and smaller kitchen. “What’s up, kids?”

  Landon poured her a cup of coffee and slid it across the counter. “Bay is trying to entice me to stay here all day by offering sex.”

  “Isn’t that what the two of you were doing last night?”

  I shot her the finger. “We were consoling each other.”

  “For what?”

  “Were you at the same dinner we were last night?”

  Thistle nodded. “Yeah, your mother is a piece of work, Landon.”

  “Don’t attack his mother,” I warned.

  Landon rolled his eyes. “Please. If I wasn’t here, you two would be knee-deep in insults about my mother.”

  “That’s not true,” I lied.

  Landon raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  I bit my lip. “Clove would be here, too.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Thistle sipped from her mug of coffee thoughtfully. “We’re in a little bit of trouble here.”

  Landon glanced at her. “Explain.”

  “We have a dead body on the property,” Thistle said. “A dead body I have a sneaking suspicion that Aunt Tillie knows a heck of a lot more about than she’s telling.”

  “We figured that, too,” Landon said.

  “That’s not the big problem, though.”

  “It’s not?” I asked.

  “We both know Aunt Tillie didn’t kill someone and bury the body on the property,” Thistle said.

  Did we both know that? Because I wasn’t so sure.

  “The poltergeist is the real problem,” Thistle continued.

  “And that’s what broke the dishes?” Landon asked.

  “Well, they didn’t just break themselves,” Thistle said.

  “I don’t know a lot about poltergeists,” I admitted.

  “Me either,” Thistle replied. “We have some books at the store, though. I’m going to do some research today.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “We have to be careful, though,” Thistle cautioned. “If the poltergeist keeps visiting the inn, we’re going to have to come up with an excuse to explain it.”

  Crap. She had a point.

  “You mean Aunt Tillie saying it’s an earthquake isn’t going to work forever?” Landon asked, his grin wide.

  I ignored him. “What do you have in mind?”

  Thistle shrugged. “I have no idea. We have to come up with something, though.”

  I glanced at my watch. “We have fifteen minutes to make it up to breakfast. Where’s Clove?”

  Thistle furrowed her brow. “I have no idea.”

  “I’m right here,” Clove said, popping out of the bathroom.

  That was weird; I hadn’t heard her enter the bathroom – which was located on the same side of the guesthouse as my bedroom. “Where have you been?”

  “Getting ready.”

  “But … .”

  “Let’s go,” Landon said. “The faster we get down there, the faster this will be over with.”

  I sighed. I guess I couldn’t put it off any longer.

  “ISN’T THIS nice?” Twila said, placing a serving bowl of scrambled eggs at the center of the dining room table. “Everyone in one room … eating again … with no yelling.”

  This table is like the seventh circle of hell, I swear.

  “It’s great,” I agreed, forking eggs onto my toast. “It’s totally great.”

  “It is,” Landon agreed, digging into a stack of blueberry pancakes.

  I glanced at Connie to gauge her reaction, but her face was fixed on the dry toast and fruit she’d insisted upon. For the record, my mother and aunts are not fans of dry toast and fruit for breakfast.

  “These are wonderful,” Earl said, dishing a bite of pancakes into his mouth. “I’ve never had pancakes this good.”

  “It’s just Bisquick,” Connie said. “Let’s not elect them Aunt Jemima or anything.”

  Marnie frowned. “We do not use Bisquick.”

  “These are from scratch?” Daryl asked.

  “We make everything from scratch,” Mom replied, her tone clipped. “We don’t take shortcuts.”

  “Bisquick,” Twila grumbled, staring down at her plate.

  I rolled my neck. This was deteriorating quickly. “So, what does everyone have planned for the day?”

  Earl grasped for the lifeline I threw. “I thought we would take a tour of the town.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “I’m hoping so,” Earl said, casting a forlorn look at his wife. “I certainly hope so.”

  The table lapsed into silence.

  “I’m going to do some gardening,” Aunt Tillie announced.

  “No, you’re not,” Mom countered.

  “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Aunt Tillie warned.

  I knew exactly what gardening she was referring to. “Why don’t you read a book or something?”

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  Not today. “I was just offering a suggestion.”

  Landon narrowed his eyes. “What kind of crop are you gardening?” He knew all about the pot field, although I’m sure, right now, he wished he didn’t.

  Aunt Tillie sniffed. “Flowers, not a crop.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Something smells good.”

  Chief Terry sauntered into the room, a wide smile on his face.

  Mom, Marnie and Twila jumped to their feet simultaneously. “Sit here.”

  Chief Terry looked uncertain.

  Mom nudged Marnie with her hip. “Sit here. Let us get you a plate.”

  Chief Terry took the proffered chair, pretending he didn’t notice as my mother and her sisters scrambled to claim the chair next to him. Mom, as usual, won the battle. “Pancakes?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Bacon?” Marnie offered, shoving the plate in front of his nose.

  “Um, yeah.”

  Twila didn’t want to be left out. “Fruit?”

  Chief Terry looked like the last thing he wanted was fruit. Of course, he would never be rude. “I love fruit.”

  The only sound for the next few minutes consisted of the noises made when cutlery meets plates. I glanced at Landon, but he was fixated on his breakfast.

  “Breathe, boy,” Aunt Tillie said. “You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in days.”

  Landon swallowed. “I didn’t get to finish my dinner last night.”

  “Or you worked up an appetite,” Aunt Tillie sug
gested, her eyes twinkling.

  I wanted to pinch her, but I refrained.

  “Where did you sleep last night?” Connie asked.

  Landon furrowed his brow. “I slept at the guesthouse.”

  “With … her?”

  “Her? You mean Bay? Yes, I slept with her last night.” Landon didn’t appear to be embarrassed by the implications.

  I was another story. “He slept on the couch.” Why did I say that?

  Landon rolled his eyes.

  “He didn’t sleep on the couch,” Aunt Tillie scoffed.

  “I didn’t sleep on the couch,” Landon agreed, shoveling another forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

  I risked a glance at Connie, my stomach roiling when I saw “the look.” I decided to change the subject. “What did you find out about the bones?”

  Chief Terry glanced up from his well-stocked plate. “Well, the good news is the forensic team says they’ve been there for more than forty years – probably closer to fifty.”

  “How is that good news?” Denny asked.

  “That means that Bay, Clove and Thistle can be ruled out as suspects,” Landon answered.

  Since when were we suspects?

  “Are we sure?” Connie asked, her gaze pointed in my direction.

  This woman was never going to like me.

  “We’re sure,” Chief Terry replied.

  “What else do you know?” Landon asked, squeezing my knee under the table.

  “Not much,” Chief Terry admitted. “There was no overt trauma to the bones.”

  “So, he died of natural causes,” Aunt Tillie said. “That’s a relief.”

  I shifted a sideways glance in her direction, which she steadfastly ignored.

  “We can’t rule out foul play,” Chief Terry replied. “Just because there’s no obvious trauma to the bones, that doesn’t mean that he wasn’t murdered.”

  “He?”

  “We have ascertained that the bones are those of a male,” Chief Terry confirmed, slipping into cop-speak.

  My mind flashed to the poltergeist. No, that didn’t surprise me. It also hadn’t escaped my attention that Aunt Tillie had referred to the body as a male before Chief Terry confirmed it. “What happens now?”

  “Now? Now we wait,” Chief Terry said. “I need more information.”

  “So we still don’t know who it is,” Mom mused.

  “Actually, I have an idea on that,” Chief Terry replied, shifting a nervous glance in Aunt Tillie’s direction.