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

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not a very good liar.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  I blew out a frustrated sigh. “I’m so mad at her right now.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to throttle her.”

  “She’ll just curse you again,” Landon warned.

  “Mom made her promise not to do that when your family is in town,” I replied. “Once they’re gone, though, it’s going to be open season.”

  Landon snorted. “Do you really think that my family staying at the inn is going to stop her?”

  “No.”

  Landon brushed his lips against mine softly and then pulled away. “Don’t do anything crazy with the two of them,” he ordered.

  “I won’t.”

  “I mean it. Oh, and if she’s going to curse you anyway, can you see if she’ll make you smell like bacon again?”

  “No!”

  “And taste, I liked it when you tasted like bacon,” Landon said, his gaze distant as he remembered. “That was the best few days of my life.”

  Men.

  I watched him drive away and then slipped inside Hypnotic. I tossed the bag of sandwiches and chips I’d carried from the diner onto the counter and threw myself on the couch dramatically. “My life sucks.”

  “I just saw you making out with Landon in front of the store,” Thistle countered. “It can’t suck that bad.”

  “We weren’t making out,” I shot back. “His family was watching us from his SUV.”

  Thistle smirked. “Kinky.”

  “I like his family,” Clove said.

  Thistle rolled her eyes. “You like his mother?”

  “I think she’s just a little nervous,” Clove replied. “We’re hard to take if you’re an outsider.”

  “It doesn’t help that the police are crawling all over the inn because a body was discovered,” Thistle added.

  Speaking of that … . “Guess who joined us for lunch?”

  “Who?”

  “Aunt Tillie.”

  Clove scrunched up her face. “Aunt Tillie? How?”

  “Well, when I left to get lunch, I saw her going into the Gunderson bakery,” I explained.

  Thistle, who was organizing incense behind the counter, stilled. “What?”

  “Yeah. She went into the Gunderson bakery.”

  “Why?”

  “She wouldn’t say.”

  “What did she say?” Clove asked.

  “Well, she told Landon she was placing an order,” I said. “When she saw me, though, she denied even being in the bakery.”

  “Wait, where were you?” Thistle asked.

  “I was crouching down by one of those side windows and eavesdropping.”

  Thistle laughed. “Is that where Landon found you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then Aunt Tillie found you?” Clove asked.

  “Yes.”

  Thistle sucked in a breath. “Did she know what you were doing?”

  “She didn’t say,” I said. “She couldn’t really, not with Landon’s family standing there and watching us as though we were circus freaks performing acts of great debauchery for public consumption.”

  “There’s a reason Aunt Tillie says you’re dramatic,” Thistle said.

  “Forget that,” Clove interjected. “What did you hear while you were eavesdropping?”

  “I heard Aunt Tillie tell Mrs. Gunderson that the body hadn’t been identified yet – but that it would be identified as Floyd eventually.”

  “You’re kidding!” Thistle exploded. “She admitted she knew who it was?”

  “She didn’t know anyone was listening.”

  “Did she say anything else?” Clove pressed.

  “She said that the cops probably wouldn’t be able to figure out how he died because he’s just bones now,” I replied.

  Thistle thought about it a second. “She didn’t admit to killing him, though. That’s got to mean something.”

  “It just means that she didn’t admit it,” I said, “not that she didn’t do it.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Gunderson did it and Aunt Tillie covered for her?” Clove suggested.

  “That doesn’t sound like Aunt Tillie,” Thistle countered.

  Actually, it did. “Wait a second,” I said. “Aunt Tillie might’ve done something like that. She’s loyal.”

  “She’s loyal to family – kind of,” Thistle said. “Why would she be loyal to Mrs. Gunderson?”

  “Maybe they’re friends,” Clove said.

  “I’ve never seen them together,” I said. “Have either of you?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe they used to be friends,” Thistle mused. “Maybe something happened that ended the friendship.”

  “Like murder and hiding a body?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” Thistle said.

  “We don’t know that, though,” Clove cautioned. “Maybe we should just ask her.”

  “It’s not like she’s going to tell us,” Thistle scoffed. “She’s going to keep lying. They could have her in handcuffs, in the backseat of a cop car, and she’ll still lie.”

  More than twenty years of living with the woman told me that was true. “So, what do we do?”

  “We could do a truth spell,” Clove suggested.

  Thistle’s eyebrows jerked up. “You want to cast a truth spell on her now?”

  Clove shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Because Landon’s family is here,” I reminded her. “That has disaster written all over it.”

  “We don’t do it when they’re around,” Clove said. “We do it when it’s just us.”

  “Do you really think she’s just going to sit there and let us cast a spell on her?” Somehow I had my doubts.

  Clove’s mouth dropped open. “Um, no, duh! We’ll do the potion one.”

  I’d forgotten about the potion spell. Still, there were a few problems with that scenario, too. “How are we going to get her to drink it?”

  “We’ll put it in her wine,” Clove replied.

  “How do we guarantee no one else drinks the wine?” Thistle asked.

  “We put it in her secret stash, the one she has in her bedroom,” Clove said.

  Huh. Clove wasn’t usually the devious one. She’d put some thought into this. “When did you think of this plan?”

  “Last night when you and Landon were rattling headboards and I had nothing better to do than listen,” Clove said.

  Clove’s dry spell was making her bitter. “Sorry.”

  Clove waved off the apology. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just jealous.”

  “Landon has two brothers here,” Thistle interjected.

  I shook my head vehemently. “No.”

  “I’m not saying she try and corrupt the priest.”

  “I think he’s a minister,” Clove said.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Daryl looks like he could be fun,” Thistle continued. “He seems like a nice guy.”

  I didn’t want to dissuade Clove, but the idea of the two of us dating brothers gave me the heebie-jeebies. “Let’s find her someone else.”

  “Fine,” Thistle conceded. “Tourist season is almost here. She can have the pick of the litter.”

  Thistle’s words reminded me of Melody’s question. “Oh, and Melody Davis stopped by the table at lunch today, too.”

  “She’s cute,” Clove said. “Her brothers are monsters, though.”

  “Well, she asked me if the rumor that Aunt Tillie has dog paws for feet is true.”

  Thistle laughed. “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her I’ve never seen her feet.”

  “That’s so funny … .” Thistle cocked her head to the side. “You know, come to think of it, I’ve never seen her feet.”

  “That’s not possible,” Clove said.

  “Have you ever seen her feet?” I asked.

  Clove furrowed her brow, con
centrating. “No. But that doesn’t mean that she’s got dog paws down there.”

  “It doesn’t mean she doesn’t,” Thistle said. “Maybe she’s part Bigfoot?”

  Clove shuddered. She’s afraid of Bigfoot.

  Aw, man, now I was going to have nightmares.

  I jumped when a candle fell off one of the shelves on the far wall. Thistle was behind the counter. I was still on the couch. Clove was closest, but she was still a good eight feet away.

  “What was that?”

  Clove moved over and picked up the candle. “I don’t know. Maybe someone from Landon’s family moved it and left it too close to the edge of the shelf. It looks fine.” She put the candle back on the shelf and moved back to the books she’d been dusting.

  The candle fell to the floor again.

  I sat up straighter on the couch.

  Clove moved back toward the candle and picked it up. “That is so weird.”

  “Maybe it’s warped on the bottom,” Thistle suggested. “Let me see it.” She moved to Clove and took the candle, tipping it over so she could study the bottom. “It looks smooth.”

  The incense bags she’d been packing on the counter jumped, tossing a mixture of sticks and cones into the air, some dropping to the floor.

  I got to my feet slowly.

  “What is that?” Thistle asked.

  “I don’t know.” I glanced around the store, but nothing jumped out at me.

  “Is it a ghost?” Clove asked.

  I was the only one who could see ghosts, but if they were around me long enough and I was talking to one my cousins could eventually hear them.

  “There’s nothing here.”

  I felt something against my back and whipped around, a clump of hair sticking to my lip.

  “What?” Clove hissed.

  “Something touched me.”

  “Touched you? Like in a naughty way?”

  “Don’t be gross.”

  Thistle jerked. “I felt something behind me.”

  Clove grabbed Thistle’s arm. “What do we do?”

  “How should I know?”

  A sterling silver photo frame – the one behind the counter showing the three of us standing in front of one of the gardens at The Overlook – toppled over.

  “It’s got to be the poltergeist from yesterday,” I said. “It followed me here.”

  “Well, take it out,” Clove said, her voice shrill.

  “It’s not like I can put it on a leash,” I grunted.

  “It has to be Floyd,” Thistle said. “He’s obviously angry about … something.”

  “Like being murdered and buried at the inn?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  “What about the mess?” Clove asked.

  “Maybe it will leave when we do,” I suggested.

  “Maybe he can clean it up when we’re gone,” Thistle suggested before moving behind the counter and grabbing her and Clove’s purses.

  “We definitely need to dose Aunt Tillie with the truth potion,” I said. “We have to find out what’s going on here.”

  Another candle tipped and rolled across a shelf, finally dropping to the floor with a solid thunk.

  “It better work,” Thistle said. “If this keeps up, Clove won’t ever come back to the shop.”

  Twelve

  “Let’s spend the day in bed.”

  Landon’s body was pressed to mine, the covers tugged over both of our heads. The alarm had sounded two minutes earlier, but neither of us had made a move to start the day.

  “We promised your family we would take them to the spring festival,” I said.

  “Isn’t it running all week? We can take them tomorrow.”

  I kissed his jaw lightly and then shoved the covers aside. “That’s not going to work. Your mother will come down here – and she’s going to hate our housekeeping skills. We can’t hide here.”

  “Can’t you put a spell on the door so it won’t open?”

  “I could,” I said. “We’re doing a different spell today, though.”

  I’d filled Landon in on everything when we got back to the guesthouse last night. His family had opted to drive to a neighboring town for dinner – which was a relief – so we hadn’t gotten a chance to catch up until late in the evening.

  “And you think this truth spell is going to work?” Landon was getting more comfortable around the world of magic, but he still seemed confused about how things worked. I’d been in the world since birth and I still didn’t fully understand it.

  “Do you have any other ideas?”

  “Can’t you just ask the … poltergeist?”

  “He doesn’t talk. He just breaks things.”

  “You talk to ghosts, though.”

  “A poltergeist isn’t a ghost,” I said. “They’re different.”

  Landon ran his fingers up my arm, thinking. “How?”

  “A ghost is a lost soul looking for rest,” I explained. “A poltergeist is … well, it’s a whole lot of rage. It doesn’t want rest, it wants revenge.”

  Landon leaned up, resting his weight on his elbow. “If he wants revenge, why isn’t he going after the person who killed him? Why is he going after you?”

  “What makes you think he’s going after me?”

  “Because he attacked you in the hole.”

  “I was the only one there.”

  “You were also at Hypnotic,” he pointed out.

  “So were Clove and Thistle.”

  “You’re the common denominator.”

  He had a point. “We don’t know that he hasn’t been anywhere else,” I said. “He could be going after Mrs. Gunderson, too.”

  “Why isn’t he going after Aunt Tillie?”

  “Maybe Aunt Tillie didn’t do anything to him.”

  “Do you really think that?”

  “I want to.”

  Landon kissed my arm. “Okay. Let’s shower and get this day started.”

  “You want to shower together?”

  Landon’s blue eyes were full of faux innocence. “What? It will be faster.”

  “WE’RE LATE,” Thistle complained to Clove.

  We were parked in front of Hypnotic. I’d caught a ride with the two of them while Landon played chauffeur for his family.

  “Like ten minutes.”

  “We’re going to have to bleach that shower to get it clean,” Thistle said.

  “Stop.”

  “Leave her alone,” Clove said. “You’re just jealous because Marcus has been so busy getting the festival ready.”

  Thistle wrinkled her nose. “Shut up.”

  “Do you want me to go in the store with you?” I asked.

  Thistle shook her head. “No. That will look suspicious. We’ll go in, clean things up, and go from there.”

  “Besides,” Clove added. “If you don’t go in the store, maybe Floyd won’t come and visit either.”

  I understood their wariness. “I have to spend the day with Landon’s family.”

  “It won’t be so bad,” Clove said. “The festival will be busy.”

  That was a bonus. I climbed out of the car, joining Landon on the sidewalk. “Well, here it is.”

  Connie’s eyes were flat. “It’s big.”

  “We don’t do small here,” I admitted.

  “I think it’s neat,” Denny said. “Look at all the people. There’s a carnival, too. That’s great.”

  “They have horses,” Daryl said, pointing. “Can we ride them?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I know the guy running it. He’ll get you guys saddled up right away.”

  “Is he an ex-boyfriend?” Connie asked.

  That was a weird question. “No. He’s actually Thistle’s boyfriend.”

  “Someone dates her?”

  I clenched my hands at my sides. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Her hair is blue,” Connie sniffed.

  “And her heart is big,” Landon interjected.
“Thistle is a good person – most of the time.”

  “Her name is Thistle,” Connie said.

  I was really starting to dislike this woman. “She didn’t pick her name.”

  “No, a woman named Twila did.”

  That did it. Landon gripped my arm. “Why don’t you guys look around? We’re going to go … over there.”

  Earl patted Landon’s shoulder. “That sounds like a good idea.” He tugged on his wife’s arm. “Why don’t we have a talk over here?”

  Landon dragged me to the pie booth. “I know you’re angry. She doesn’t mean what she says.”

  “She sounded like she meant it.”

  “She’s … out of her element.”

  She’s evil is what she is – and a whole other level of evil from Aunt Tillie. Huh, how frightening is that?

  I rubbed my forehead tiredly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Landon admonished. “I’m going to talk to her.”

  “Don’t. That’s just going to make her hate me more.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “She certainly doesn’t like me.”

  Landon slung an arm around my shoulders. “I guess it’s good that I do then, huh?”

  If he wasn’t so cute I swear I’d kick him in the shins and lock his mother in one of the kissing booths when no one was looking. “So, what do you want to do? You want to go on a ride with your brothers?”

  Landon looked torn. “I don’t want to leave you here with Mom. Why don’t you come with us?”

  A ride sounded nice, but something else caught my attention. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just stay away from your mother.”

  Landon eyed me, his face unreadable. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” I said, forcing. “Just find Marcus. He’ll hook you up.”

  Landon dropped a small kiss on my mouth. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “That seems like a broad order,” I teased.

  Landon grinned. “Just be good.”

  “I’m always good.”

  “Be better than that.”

  Once he was gone I searched the crowd for the face I’d glimpsed. I found Mrs. Gunderson under one of the tents where the buffet would be set up in the next hour. That’s the direction I headed.

  Mrs. Gunderson jumped when she found me standing next to her. “Bay, dear, you gave me a fright.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you looking for something to eat? The food won’t be here for a while.”