Life's a Witch (12 page)

I ignored her and kept my eyes trained on Clove. “What happened?”

“Well, they made their grand entrance,” Clove replied, prancing out from behind the counter to reenact it for me. “They told us it was a quaint store.”

“They kept using that word,” Thistle said. “Quaint. What a quaint store. What a quaint table. What quaint candles. What a quaint cash register.” Her imitation of Aunt Willa was pretty impressive given the fact that we’d only shared one meal with the woman. “I wanted to shove my quaint fist in her obnoxious face.”

“I’m surprised they even wanted to come here,” I said. “I wouldn’t think a magic shop would pique their interest.”

“Oh, they don’t like magic,” Clove said. “Rosemary informed me that Wicca is something sexually adventurous teenagers immersed themselves in because they can’t control their sexual urges. She read it online, so it must be true.”

“Oh, well, that explains it,” I said, trying to swallow my smirk.

“Then she told me that the herbs we offered – all of which couldn’t conjure a fly on a hot summer day, mind you – were gateway items for the eradication of God in our society,” Clove supplied.

“I’d like to shove my fist in her gateway and choke her to death,” Thistle muttered.

“I can see you’re handling this well.” I patted Thistle’s knee. “Did you yell at them?”

“I held my tongue because Winnie looked as if she was about to explode,” Thistle replied. “I’m genuinely worried she’s going to have a heart attack if she keeps this all bottled up.”

“Well, she’s ticked off at me,” I offered. “I was supposed to go to the festival, but a body was found down at Hollow Creek. I went with Landon and Chief Terry instead. I’m sure I’ll hear about that tonight.”

“What body?” Clove asked.

“Nathaniel Jamison. He was stabbed eight times.”

Thistle lifted her eyebrows. “That’s some serious overkill.”

“That’s what I said,” I replied. “Then Chief Terry accused me of watching too many cop shows.”

Thistle snorted. “Everything we need to know we learned from HBO,” she said. “How long has he been dead?”

“They’re waiting for a time of death from the medical examiner,” I said. “He was in the water for days and his body was … not good.”

Clove wrinkled her nose. “That’s awful. I don’t know too much about him. Do they have any suspects?”

I told them about my afternoon, stopping while Thistle laughed about me being old, and then fixed a bright smile on my face. “I’m actually hoping one of you can loan me your car.”

“Where is your car?”

“It’s up at the inn,” I answered. “Chief Terry drove, and he and Landon are off doing … body stuff.”

“Gross,” Clove said. “You can take my car. I’ll ride home with Thistle.”

“What are you going to do?” Thistle asked.

“I’m going to stop by the Jamison house and offer my condolences.”

“And you’re going to see if you can find Nathaniel’s ghost,” Thistle finished. “I take it he wasn’t out at Hollow Creek.”

“No.”

“Well, at least you have a reason to miss any meals you don’t want to attend,” Thistle said. “Is Landon sticking around this week?”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Well, either way, Winnie informed us that everyone is expected at dinner tonight, and if we try to come up with an excuse she’s going to let Aunt Tillie curse us to her heart’s content,” Thistle said. “Since Aunt Tillie is on our side right now, I’m not sure how much of a threat that is. I’m not sure I’m willing to risk it, though. Aunt Tillie goes power mad when she has approval to do whatever she wants.”

“I only wish we knew Aunt Willa’s endgame,” I admitted. “She clearly wants something. If we knew what it was … .”

“We still wouldn’t be able to do anything about it,” Thistle finished. “We’re pawns in this one. Aunt Willa’s plan revolves around our mothers and Aunt Tillie. All we can do is offer support.”

I narrowed my eyes. That didn’t sound like the cousin I knew and loved … well, most of the time.

“And by offer support I mean that I’m going to punch both of them before the week is out,” Thistle added. “I can pretty much guarantee it.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to that,” I said. “I guess I’ll see you guys for dinner. Wish me ghosts.”

THE
Jamisons lived on a quiet street on the east side of town. The houses are small but well kept, and their lawn was immaculate. Everyone in Hemlock Cove works overtime to keep the town pretty. When your entire income rides on tourists, you don’t have much of a choice.

I parked across the street from the house, second thoughts getting the better of me as I exited Clove’s car. This was a private time, and Patty Jamison was going through one of the worst things imaginable. I didn’t want to intrude on her grief.

I leaned against the car and studied the house. In truth, I didn’t want to talk to Patty. I hoped Nathaniel was hanging around his old stomping grounds. Most people pass on when they die. The exception is a particularly violent death or when they pass on before realizing what’s happening. Nathaniel’s death was definitely violent. Whether he realized what happened and tried to cling to this world, though, was anyone’s guess.

“Can I help you?”

I jumped when I heard the voice, turning swiftly to find a teenage girl studying me from the sidewalk. She had a bag from the diner in her hand and a weary look on her face. Her eyes were puffy, which told me she’d been crying. I recognized her without that observation, though. It was Chloe Jamison.

“Hi Chloe,” I said, keeping my voice even. “How are … ?” I broke off. That was an incredibly lame question, given the circumstances. “Do you need anything?”

“You’re the lady from the newspaper, right?” Chloe asked, stepping closer. “You’re Bay Winchester.”

“I am,” I acknowledged. “I heard about your brother. I wanted to stop by and … .” And what? Talk to his ghost? I didn’t think Chloe would understand that particular admission. “I wanted to see if you and your mom needed anything.”

“You’re here looking for a story, aren’t you?” Chloe asked, her green eyes suspicious as she pushed her brown hair away from her face.

“No, Chloe, I’m not looking for a story,” I said. “We’ll do a story on your brother’s death, but that’s not why I’m here today.”

“Why are you here?”

There was no good way to answer that question. She would be suspicious no matter what. “Honestly? I was looking for some information about Nathaniel and I was planning to talk to your neighbors.” That was a lie, but it was the only thing I could think to tell her.

“What kind of information?”

“I … well, I’ve heard a few things about Nathaniel,” I admitted. “When you’re trying to solve a murder, you need to know about the victim. I honestly did not mean to come here and bother you. I know you and your mom are grieving.”

Chloe snorted, the sound taking me by surprise. “My mother is making lists and I’m getting food. Nathaniel was missing for days and we didn’t even know it. I’m not sure we’re technically grieving.”

“He was your brother.”

“And he’s dead.” Chloe’s words were harsh and I could tell she was putting on a brave front. “Go ahead and ask your questions.”

I pursed my lips. She was making this too easy. Still, I wasn’t one to pass up a prime opportunity. “Do you know where your brother was working?”

“He was doing odd jobs out at the Peterson farm three days a week, and he helped at the fruit market two days a week.”

That was interesting. “Do you know how much time he was spending at Hollow Creek?”

“He went there every weekend,” Chloe replied. “There’s nothing better to do in this hick town, so that’s what he did.”

“Did you go out there with him?”

“I went a few times,” Chloe said. “I wasn’t really into the beer and pot scene, though, so he told me I couldn’t go with him again. He said I was too young. I thought that was pretty funny because he was a college guy hanging out with high school kids. But it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

She was bitter. Her words were harsh, but she was clearly struggling. I tried not to take her tone to heart. “Your brother was seen flashing a big wad of money,” I said, trying a different tactic. If she thought I was trying to cast aspersions on Nathaniel she might let something slip. “People don’t think he had much of a work ethic, so they’re curious where he got the money.”

I expected Chloe to stand up for her brother. I got exactly the opposite. “Nathaniel had no work ethic,” she said. “He didn’t think he should have to work. He was always looking for the easiest way to make money. He put in hours at the Peterson place, but I wouldn’t call him a good employee.”

“What would you call him?”

“A drug dealer.”

I stilled, surprised. Even if she believed that, volunteering information of that sort to a news reporter was never a good idea. “Your brother was dealing drugs?”

“He had no marketable skills. What else was he supposed to do?”

“Where did he get the pot?” I asked, going for the obvious question first.

“There are plenty of small dealers around here,” Chloe answered, shuffling in front of me. “That’s how Nathaniel got his start. He bought ounces and broke them down into dime bags and sold them so he could make enough money to smoke his share without going broke.”

She knew a lot about her brother’s drug business. I couldn’t help but find that suspicious. “He still needed to get his hands on product,” I prodded. “Where was he getting it?”

Chloe shrugged. “He never told me that.”

That didn’t mean she didn’t know. “I know a lot of people in the rural areas have small fields,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Was he getting it from one of them?”

Chloe snorted. “Isn’t your aunt one of the people with her own pot field? It’s not exactly a secret. Everyone knows it’s out there, although no one can seem to find it.”

“If they can’t find it, how do they know it’s out there?” I challenged.

“Because your aunt tells everyone she has a pot field,” Chloe replied. “She thinks it makes her look tough. The problem is, everyone is afraid of her because the whole town thinks you guys are witches.”

I swallowed hard. The big family secret wasn’t really a secret. Most people didn’t have the gall to accuse us outright, though. “What do you think?”

“I think you guys play into the town’s mystique to keep all of your businesses afloat,” Chloe replied, not missing a beat. “You guys just pretend to be witches, right?”

“You got us,” I said, my heart rate slowing.

“You know people have been trying to find your aunt’s pot field for years, right?” Chloe asked.

“I’ve seen people loitering around the property,” I confirmed. Aunt Tillie’s pot field was magically cloaked, so it was nearly impossible to find. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I can guarantee they won’t find anything.”

“Is that because there’s nothing to find or it’s too well hidden?”

“They won’t find anything,” I said, skirting the question.

“My brother went out there looking last week,” Chloe mused. “Whatever was going on with him, he was desperate to make more money. He figured he could steal some product from your aunt and she would never know because she’s so old.”

“I’m not sure that’s how Aunt Tillie sees it,” I said, briefly wondering how this conversation had gotten so far off course. “It doesn’t matter. Your brother never would’ve left our property with what he was looking for. Out of curiosity’s sake, though, how do you know all of this?”

“Nathaniel liked to brag,” Chloe replied. “He didn’t like to work and he didn’t like to study, but he was good at bragging.”

“Chloe, was your brother in trouble because of the dealing?” I asked. “If he owed money to someone … .”

Chloe cut me off. “My brother would never tell me anything about stuff like that,” she said. “If he thought it made him look like a big man, he would tell me. Otherwise he pretty much ignored me.”

And that’s what hurt her the most, I realized. She always thought she would earn her brother’s respect – even if the man who was supposed to give the respect deserved none in return. Now she would never get the chance.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Chloe,” I said, meaning every word. “You should probably get that food in to your mom.”

“Are you going to tell your aunt that my brother was trying to steal her pot?”

That was a good question. “I’m going to discuss the situation with her,” I said. “She’ll probably be tickled to know that everyone is town is spreading gossip about her.” That sounded reasonable, right?

Chloe snickered. “I think she knows everyone in town gossips about her,” she said. “I think she likes it.”

Unfortunately, she was right. “Take care of yourself, Chloe,” I said. “Take care of your mom, too. It’s going to be sad for a little bit, but you guys will be able to work past this.”

“I’m already past it,” Chloe said. “I can’t change it, so there’s no reason to dwell on it. If you have more questions you can stop by again. Otherwise … I guess I’ll see you around.”

I watched Chloe walk up to the house, conflicted. She was putting on a brave face because she didn’t know what else to do. What would happen when that bravado failed her? I could only hope someone would be there to help her pick up the pieces.

Twelve

“Bay!”

I headed straight for Aunt Tillie’s field when I got back to the inn, playing a hunch that she would be hiding out there to avoid Aunt Willa’s prying eyes. I was right. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone.

Annie raced toward me, her face flushed and her eyes excited. I caught her as she hopped up and threw her arms around my neck.

“We’re taking care of the oregano,” Annie said. “It needs to be watered just right so it doesn’t get … um … seedy.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth as I worked to rein in my temper. Landon would have a fit if he found out about this. “I see,” I said, lifting my eyes until they found Aunt Tillie’s. She’d changed from her combat helmet to her garden hat – although I wasn’t sure it was much of an improvement – and she still wore her zombie active wear.

“Annie, I thought everyone agreed that you wouldn’t come out to the oregano field anymore,” I reminded her. “You’re only supposed to help Aunt Tillie in the greenhouse.”