Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) (17 page)

“We’re not sure,” Chief Terry said. “It was used at a restaurant at one of those waterfront restaurants on the bay.”

“So no cameras?”

“No cameras,” Chief Terry confirmed. “We’re having some agents pick up the slip to see if the signature matches one from Lillian Hobbes that they have on file in Canada.”

“How long will that take?”

“I have no idea,” Chief Terry said wearily. “Canada may be a nice place to visit, but when it comes to law enforcement, they’re not adverse to taking their own sweet time.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” Chief Terry shook his head. “Another credit card, this one belonging to Byron Hobbes, was used to put down a room reservation at the Bayfront Inn.”

“Is that in Traverse City, too?”

“No, Suttons Bay,” Chief Terry said.

“Still, that’s not that far away.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Did you check to see if they ever checked in?” Landon asked.

“I’m not new,” Chief Terry growled. “I know how to run an investigation. To answer your question, though, no one ever checked into the room.”

“So they were on their way to Suttons Bay?” I asked.

“That’s what it looks like.”

“And their family hasn’t heard from them?”

“No.”

“We’re checking to see if there are any mechanical problems on the boat that would cause it to stall right now,” Chief Terry said. “I don’t expect to hear from Mike, though, until later this afternoon.”

“Mike Derry?”

“Yeah,” Chief Terry nodded. “He knows more about boats than anyone else I know. He agreed to look it over. Things are slow for them right now, too.”

“So that’s all we know?” Landon looked frustrated. “It’s not much.”

Chief Terry glanced at me uncomfortably before speaking. “There is one more thing.”

“What?” I asked curiously.

“As part of the investigation, we ran the registry at the
Bayfront to see if there were any red flags with the guests,” he said. “It’s standard procedure, even if they didn’t ever make it there in case they were meeting someone.”

“And you found something?” I asked.

“All of the guests were pretty much cleared,” Chief Terry said. “Most of them were just couples visiting the area for Christmas. They all had ties to the area or were on vacation. No one with a record or anything.”

“And?” Landon prodded.

“There was one guest that caught my attention,” Chief Terry averted his gaze from mine.

“Who?”

“Ted Proctor.”

Landon looked confused for a second and then realization dawned on his face. He turned to me cautiously.

“Uncle Teddy?”

“Yeah,” Chief Terry swallowed hard.

Well, that wasn’t good.

I headed across the street to Hypnotic when I was done at Chief Terry’s office. Landon had offered to go with me – I think he was worried that Thistle would freak out when I told her about the Ted situation – but I declined.

“She’ll be fine,” I said. “She’s not even sure how she feels about him. Plus, it could just be a coincidence. It’s not like it’s proof of anything.”

I found myself stalling outside of Hypnotic, though. Despite my words, I wasn’t a big believer in coincidence. I couldn’t figure out why Uncle Teddy would be involved in something like this. I hadn’t told Landon or Chief Terry about what we had seen out at the Dragonfly – or that Thistle had initially thought that one of the voices belonged to her father. She had admitted she wasn’t sure afterwards, I reminded myself.

I probably should have told them, I chastised myself. Of course, that would be admitting we broke into the inn and searched it – which would put us on a slippery slope, too.

I blew out a frustrated sighed and walked into Hypnotic. Maybe I just wouldn’t tell Thistle this most recent development at all? That seemed like a viable option – at least until we knew more.

I found Thistle and Clove working in the store – even though they didn’t have any customers. That wasn’t exactly surprising. The snow would keep any tourists away.

“What’s up?” Thistle asked. I noticed she was wearing an old pair of track pants.

“Your jeans still don’t fit?”

“Nope.”

“Did you ask Aunt Tillie about it?”

“I’m not going to give her any more power,” Thistle said. “I’ve decided to pretend that she doesn’t exist.”

“You mean you’re going to ignore her?” Clove asked.

“Yup. If she asks me a question, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear it. If she tries to pick a fight I’m going to pretend she didn’t say a thing.”

“Do you think you can do that?” I asked dubiously.

“I’m going to at least try,” Thistle said honestly.

“If you can pull it off, it will probably drive her crazy,” I said.

“It would be more effective if you and Clove did it, too,” Thistle hedged.

Clove’s eyes widened unhappily. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “If it looks like you’re having fun, maybe I’ll give it a try.” Driving Aunt Tillie off a cliff had entertainment value – even if it was usually a really short trip.

“This is not about fun,” Thistle said seriously. “This is about teaching Aunt Tillie a lesson.”

“She might be too old to teach a lesson to,” I pointed out.

“You’re never too old to learn,” Thistle mimicked her mother.

“Okay, she’s probably too stubborn to learn a lesson,” I conceded.

“That may be,” Thistle said stiffly. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving up, though.”

“Well, I’ll have a nice speech ready for your funeral,” I said.

Thistle rolled her eyes and went back to the ordering she had previously been distracted with.

“So, what are you guys doing?” I asked finally. I was a little bored.

“We’re just putting a few orders in and going home,” Clove said. “There’s no reason to stay. It’s not like we’re going to have any customers.”

“Plus the town is going on lockdown tomorrow,” Thistle said.

“It is?” I hadn’t heard that.

“It’s supposed to be a bad one,” Thistle replied. “That means, come sundown tomorrow, this place will be a ghost town.”

“Great choice of words,” I grumbled.

“Sorry.”

“We should probably hit the store on the way home,” Clove said pragmatically. “We need to stock up. We don’t want to be stuck eating every meal at the inn for two days.”

“Two days?” Thistle looked unhappy.

“Yeah,” I said. “The night of the blizzard and the whole day after are going to be hell. The only way to get around on the roads is going to be Aunt Tillie’s plow.”

“And the snowmobiles,” Clove reminded me.

I smiled, despite myself. I did love the snowmobiles.

“We’ll stop at the store on the way home,” Thistle agreed. “We need to stock up.”

“Landon might be staying over,” I said haltingly.

“Tonight?” Clove asked.

“No, he’s going home to get clothes and stuff tonight,” I said. “Tomorrow night and the night after, though.”

“Well, that will be fun. Orgies all around,” Thistle said bitterly.

“What about Marcus?” I ignored the orgies comment.

“He’ll probably spend the night, too,” Thistle conceded. “He’d rather be stuck with us – no matter how crazy our family is – than be stuck at home with his mom and dad for two days.”

“I bet Trevor will be around,” I teased Clove.

“He will,” she avoided eye contact. “My mom offered him a room for the next few days because the weather is supposed to be so bad.”

“Well, that will be convenient,” I said.

“He’s having dinner at the inn tonight,” Clove said happily.

“I thought we were getting supplies so we could eat at home?” Thistle whined.

“It’s Polish night,” I interjected.

“How do you know?” Thistle asked suspiciously.

“Marnie called Chief Terry.”

“Did he have anything new on the case?” Clove asked.

I swallowed hard and then told them what I knew – everything except the part about Uncle Teddy being registered at the same hotel. I didn’t see how it could help at this point. And, if it was just a coincidence, it could do a lot more harm than good where Thistle was concerned.

“Well, that’s a bummer,” Thistle said. “I don’t suppose they’ll find out much more before the storm hits either.”

“No, they definitely can’t be out in that type of snow on the water,” I agreed.

“Okay,” Thistle finally agreed. “We’ll go to the inn tonight. I want to ignore Aunt Tillie and see if it drives her crazy anyway.”

“If that doesn’t work, we could all repeat everything she says like we did when we were little,” I suggested.

Thistle smiled to herself. “That was pretty funny.”

“Not one more word!” I imitated with a bemused smile.

“We’ll still stop at the store,” Clove interrupted. She didn’t like to talk about Aunt Tillie -- just in case she really could hear us from miles away like she claimed.

“Yeah,” Thistle agreed. She turned to me. “Are they making pierogies?”

“Don’t they always? And Polish sausage, too.”

“Oooh, I love Polish sausage,” Clove gushed.

“That’s what she said,” Thistle and I sang out in unison.

Sometimes it’s okay to be immature.

When we got to the inn for dinner that night, Thistle was excited about her plan to unhinge Aunt Tillie and Clove was all dolled up for dinner with Trevor. I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but I figured one dinner with our family might be enough to send Trevor running for the hills – even if those hills were buried under a mountain of snow.

We entered through the private family residence, dropping our coats in the living room before wandering into the kitchen. The smell of sauerkraut assaulted my olfactory senses the minute I walked into the room.

“That smells awesome,” I admitted.

“It should,” Marnie said as she stirred. “We’ve been making it from the same family recipe for as long as I can remember.”

Thistle looked over her mom’s shoulder as she dished Polish sausage up on a plate. “Those look good, too.”

“You guys haven’t made Polish food in awhile,” I said.

“It’s comfort food,” my mom said. “It’s best on really cold nights.”

“It’s definitely going to be cold over the next few days,” I agreed, sneaking a
pierogi  off of the plate my mom was readying and popping it into my mouth.

My mom smacked me playfully. “Those are for the guests. It’s unsanitary to pick food off of a community plate with your fingers.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be such a good cook,” I tried to charm her.

She pulled the plate away from my wandering hands and narrowed her eyes at me. “That doesn’t work on me anymore. You’re not ten and I’m not stupid.”

It was worth a try.

“Where is Aunt Tillie?” Thistle was looking at the empty recliner.

“She’s in her room getting dressed,” my mom said.

Thistle looked at the chair again and raised her eyebrows. I shook my head. Now wasn’t the time to steal the chair. If we did it in front of our mothers, they would fall like dominoes when Aunt Tillie went on the rampage. They wouldn’t mean to, but they would roll over on us to save themselves from her wrath in a heartbeat.

“So, where is Landon tonight?” My mom asked pointedly.

“He went back home,” I said easily. “He has to pack stuff. He thinks he’s going to be stuck over here when the blizzard hits tomorrow night.”

“And just where will he be staying?” My mom asked, hands on hips.

“I don’t know yet,” I said honestly. “I figured he could get a room here or just stay with us at the gatehouse. It depends on whether or not I’ll be up for another orgy so soon or not.”

“That’s not funny, fresh mouth,” my mom swatted me with a wooden spoon.

“What’s for dessert?” I asked curiously.

“Chocolate cake,” my mom said.

“That’s not really Polish. You usually commit to one theme and see it through.”

“Your Aunt Tillie wanted chocolate cake,” my mom said primly.

Translation: Whatever Aunt Tillie wants, she gets. It’s easier than arguing with her.

“Besides,” my mom continued. “You love chocolate cake.”

“She loves all desserts,” Thistle scoffed.

“I’m not the one who can’t fit into her pants,” I reminded Thistle.

“You can’t fit into your pants?”
Twila looked Thistle up and down. “Is that why you’re dressed for the gym? You’re going to workout after dinner?’

“I’m not fat,” Thistle protested. “My pants don’t fit because Aunt Tillie is evil.”

Marnie crossed herself and looked to the kitchen door quickly. I think she was worried Aunt Tillie would overhear the conversation.

My mom decided to change the subject. “How is work?”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Edith is convinced that Brian is up to something, though.”

“Like what?” My mom and aunts had taken to Brian Kelly – like they did most people. Aunt Tillie, though, she hadn’t trusted him the minute she had laid eyes on him.

“I don’t know,” I admitted truthfully. “I think he might be trying to sell the paper.”

“Why would he do that?” my mom asked.

“To make money? I don’t know,” I shrugged.

“Why does Edith think this?”

“She says he’s been making a series of secretive phone calls,” I explained. “Something about keeping it secret from me. I thought, at first, it was about him doing business with Uncle Teddy. Now I think it’s more, though.”

“Would you be okay if he sold the paper?” My mom asked
, concern etched on her timeless face.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I know that William left Brian the paper with the stipulation that I be kept on as editor. Whether that is still in effect if the paper gets sold, though, I have no idea.”

“I knew he was a lout.” Aunt Tillie made a dramatic entrance into the kitchen.

“I don’t know that he is really trying to sell the paper,” I cautioned Aunt Tillie. The woman loved to torture us, but she fought like a mountain lion when someone else meant to do us harm. “It’s just one theory.”

“He still knew about Ted being in town and hid it from us,” she said angrily. “And after everything we’ve done for him.”

“What have you done for him?”
Twila asked curiously. “Besides threaten to put a scorpion in his bed?”

“When did she do that?” I asked, trying to fight the mad grin that was trying to flit across my features.

“When he suggested that we get rid of the brochure rack in the front foyer and replace it with Whistler sales racks,” Marnie said.

I had been telling them to do that for years, but I didn’t remind them of that fact. “Well, no harm no foul. I mean, it’s not like she could really get a scorpion.”

My mom and Marnie exchanged guilty looks.

“Where did you get a scorpion?” I asked wearily.

“I ordered it off the Internet,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “His name was Fred.”

“They sell scorpions on the Internet?” Clove looked horrified.

“They sell everything on the Internet,” I acknowledged. ”It’s more than just good porn these days.”

“That is not funny,” my mom smacked me with the wooden spoon again.

“What happened to Fred?”

“He ran away,” Aunt Tillie said evasively. “I think he’s on a nice farm in the hills now.”

“We can’t find him,” my mom said. “We were going to give him to Mrs. Korr for her pet shop, but when we went to get him he had mysteriously disappeared.”

“He’s not still in the house, is he?” Clove looked around fearfully.

“We’re not sure,” Marnie admitted.

“What if he gets into someone’s room?”

“Fred is not interested in getting in anyone’s room,” Aunt Tillie explained. “Fred is a good guy. He’s just misunderstood.”

“He’s also deadly,” my mom reminded her.

“Only if you piss him off.”

That was true of just about anyone.

We helped carry the food into the kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice that Clove conveniently put her plate down in front of Trevor so she would have an excuse to sit next to him. He was a hard guy to read, but his eyes did seem to light up when he saw her. That was a start.

I took a seat next to Aunt Tillie. I wanted to make sure I could control her – or at least attempt to – should she go after Brian. Besides that, I wasn’t keen on sitting next to him, which left the only open seat next to Aunt Tillie.

“This smells wonderful,” the elderly couple at the end of the table said.

“I’m sorry,” I said politely. “I didn’t get your name when we were here earlier in the week.”

“I’m Lenore Baker,” she said in a friendly tone. “And this is my husband, Tom.”

“And how has the antiquing been going?”

“We haven’t found anything yet,” Lenore admitted. “We’ve just been having fun exploring the town, quite frankly. We’re a little worried about the storm, though.”

I could understand that. Still, she seemed a little nervous. Maybe she wasn’t too keen on snow?

“Where are you from?”

“Grand Rapids,” Tom said hurriedly.

“How long are you here for?”

“Through the weekend, at least.” He kept his eyes fixed on me, making sure not to make eye contact with anyone else at the table.

“Well, you’ll probably be stuck here after tomorrow night for sure,” I said. I was trying to be helpful. They were old, after all.

“Well,” Lenore said warmly. “If we have to be stuck here, I can’t think of a better place to be snowed in. Or more friendly people,” she beamed at my mom and aunts.

She obviously hadn’t spent a lot of time with Aunt Tillie.

“What are we going to do about this week’s edition?” Brian asked.

“I’ve got it mostly ready. I’m going to do a small write-up on the blizzard tomorrow,” I said. “I already called the printer and said that, odds are, we’ll be printing Monday instead of Friday.”

Brian nodded in agreement. “It’s just a waste to print on Friday if this storm hits. No one will get their paper. We can’t ask George to deliver in two feet of snow.”

George was The Whistler’s one and only delivery person. That generally consisted of dropping off big piles of papers at the various businesses in town, but he went out of his way to take newspapers to the older housebound seniors in the area, as well.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that for very long, will you?” Aunt Tillie asked Brian darkly.

I swung out to kick her under the table and missed. She really was quicker than I gave her credit for sometimes.

“What do you mean?” Brian asked curiously.

“Aren’t you trying to sell the paper?”

Crap. I should have embraced Thistle’s ignore Aunt Tillie mantra.

For his part, Brian looked both surprised and uncomfortable. “No,” he said. “I’m not trying to sell the paper. Where would you get that idea?”

I expected Aunt Tillie to throw me under the bus. She never does what you expect, though.

“Mrs. White said you were considering it,” she lied smoothly.

“Mrs. White?
From the unicorn store? How would she know anything about me and the paper?”

“You like to brag about yourself,” Aunt Tillie said evenly. “I figured you were just bragging about it to her.”

“Well, Mrs. White is mistaken,” Brian said carefully.

“Are you calling her a liar?” Aunt Tillie looked outraged. It was an impressive feat since the whole story was made up.

“Of course not,” Brian held his hands up in a placating manner. “I’m just thinking that she heard an errant rumor or something.”

“Dude,” one of the snowboarding hipsters seated on the other side of the table finally spoke around a mouthful of food. “I wouldn’t mess with her.”

Brian looked at the kid and dismissed him immediately. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tillie knows things,” the kid said. “She can see the future.”

I slid a suspicious glance in Aunt Tillie’s direction. “Has she been reading your fortune for you?”

“Sludge saw me reading my tarot cards,” Aunt Tillie said. “He wanted to know what I saw.”

Aunt Tillie couldn’t really read tarot cards. She only got them out when she wanted to make a little extra money from unsuspecting tourists.

“And what did your future hold, Sludge?” I asked curiously.

“It wasn’t very good,” he said honestly. “She said I was going to make the run of all runs on the Devil’s Snare after the blizzard. Unfortunately, I would fall to my death from the chairlift afterwards.”

Nice.

“She took the curse off of me, though,” Sludge said brightly. “Now I won’t die after the run.”

“And how much did that cost you?” I asked dryly.

“Only fifty bucks,” Sludge said. “I figured my life was well worth fifty bucks.”

I turned to Aunt Tillie incredulously. “You don’t think that’s a little underhanded?” I whispered under my breath.

“The boy named himself Sludge,” Aunt Tillie said dismissively. “He deserves what he gets.”

Marnie decided to change the subject – a move I was grateful for. “So, how are you liking the area, Trevor?”

Twelve sets of eyes shifted their focus to Trevor. He didn’t look thrilled with the sudden attention. “It’s nice,” he said. “The people are nice.”

“That’s good,” Marnie said.

“What exactly did Mrs. White tell you?” Brian piped up from down at the other end of the table.

Aunt Tillie turned her attention back to him. “She said you were trying to sell the newspaper and get out of town.”

She was sticking to the lie.

“I don’t understand why someone would spread a rumor like that,” Brian looked genuinely concerned.

“It’s probably because you’re running around with scoundrels,” Aunt Tillie explained breezily.

“Scoundrels?”

“Ted Proctor,” Aunt Tillie replied.

Thistle looked like she was about ready to jump up from her chair and stab Aunt Tillie with her fork. I put my hand on her arm to still her, shaking my head in warning. That would just give Aunt Tillie what she wanted.