Spell by Midnight (Witch of Mintwood Book 3) Page 11

  “It’s beautiful up here,” Deacon said when the trail reached one particularly lovely overlook.

  “Yup,” said Greer. As a card carrying-member of the female gender and a self-respecting woman, Greer had been short with Deacon ever since she’d seen him with Mildred. She was not pleased, and she couldn’t help but show it, even though it had been her idea to get Deacon out on a hike.

  “Did you discover who vandalized the barn?” Charlie asked Jasper.

  “What?” I said. “I know Ms. Sounds wrote an article mentioning vandalism, but I hadn’t heard that it was still going on. What happened?”

  Charlie winced and gave Jasper an apologetic look.

  When I saw the look, I got even more upset. “Why didn’t you tell me!” I cried. At first I wasn’t sure if I was asking Jasper or Charlie, then I decided it was both of them.

  “We didn’t want to worry you,” said Charlie.

  “What happened to the barn?” I insisted, trying to keep my voice level but only half succeeding. How was I supposed to take care of things when no one told me about them!

  “Just some people spray painting stuff, saying the place is a murder scene and probably haunted. Stupid stuff. Nothing that can’t be fixed,” said Jasper.

  My mind went to the witches who were currently hanging around my town. Would they stoop to vandalizing the barn as well as attacking my home?

  “It’s not a big deal,” said Jasper insisted when I didn’t respond to his reassurances.

  “Next time someone vandalizes the barn I saved, I want to hear about it,” I demanded.

  “Oh, the barn you saved, is it?” Jasper smiled.

  “Yeah, exactly,” I said.

  “Okay, deal. Next time I’ll tell you,” he said.

  Accepting that as the best I could do, but still upset about the vandalism, I took advantage of Jasper’s potential feelings of guilt (yes, I am a good person) to ask another important question.

  “Has Detective Cutter been around?” I said. I was hoping to find out if the investigation had shifted away from the silo now that they knew who the body belonged to.

  “Not in the past couple of days,” said Jasper. “They’re hot on the trail, meaning they’re trying to find someone who had something against Hank Smith.”

  “From all accounts he was a nice guy,” said Charlie. “Everyone I’ve talked to is surprised he was murdered.”

  “He must have done a bad business deal or two in his time,” said Greer. “Surely not everyone could have liked him,” said Greer.

  “I’ve talked to a lot of the people he bought real estate from,” said Charlie thoughtfully. “He was universally liked. His cousin Horace, on the other hand, not so much.”

  “There’s always a bad apple,” said Liam knowingly.

  “Horace is still pretty involved with local real estate, as far as that goes,” said Jasper. “My grandfather has done some deals with him.”

  “Do you think you could introduce us?” Charlie asked, her ears instantly perking up at the chance of a connection.

  Jasper grimaced. “He probably doesn’t want to talk to a reporter.”

  Charlie pouted. “But I’m so nice.”

  “Yeah, underneath that cute blond exterior there isn’t a heart of steel and a lion’s temper,” grinned Greer.

  “Lioness, but thank you,” said Charlie.

  “Roar,” said Deacon, laughing. “I’ve never thought of you as some shrinking violet.”

  “I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go gently in an interview,” said Charlie.

  “She means interrogation,” said Greer.

  “That’s for the police,” corrected Charlie.

  “I’ll see what I can do. How about that?” offered Jasper.

  “You’re the best,” said Charlie, beaming.

  “The faster this case gets solved, the better,” said Liam.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “I figure all those out-of-town women wandering around Mintwood have something to do with the murder,” he said, shrugging. “Once Detective Cutter finds out what happened to Hank Smith, I’m hoping they’ll go away.”

  Once we were down the mountain, Jasper walked us to the Beetle. Liam walked Deacon over to Deacon’s truck, chatting quietly as he tried to be supportive of his friend. The Grates hadn’t been cleared, and the investigation was still ongoing. A gorgeous hike notwithstanding, that was bound to be hard on Deacon.

  “This was a great idea,” said Charlie.

  “So great I think we should wait a year or two to do it again,” muttered Greer.

  Jasper chuckled. “Maybe next time we should do it in the summer when it isn’t so cold.”

  “We can do that, or we could never do it again,” offered Charlie. But when she saw Jasper’s face she hastened to add, “I’m only kidding. I want to support Deacon, for sure. I know he’s upset about his parents, but I’m sure they’ll be cleared. We all know they didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Jasper nodded. “I’ll be glad when this whole business is over. I’ve been fielding a lot of calls about the barn and when it will be usable. I had envisioned it as a wedding venue, but who’s going to want to get married there after this?” He shook his head, letting his frustration seep out at last.

  “Some people, but probably not the kind of people you and Macy were envisioning,” said Greer in a matter of fact tone of voice.

  “Macy is a great designer, it’s the rest I question,” said Jasper.

  “You mean the simpering?” said Charlie.

  “Right, there’s that. And if not for her, we might never have found the body to begin with,” said Jasper.

  “What does Ms. Sounds have to say about all of it?” I asked him. I was concerned that she might use her power around town to hurt the barn’s prospects, especially since she’d been there the night of the fundraiser.

  “She’s very concerned. She’s big into fundraising, and this isn’t helping,” said Jasper. “It’s a big mess, and the most terrible thing about it is that someone died.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it soon, I promise,” said Charlie.

  My friends got into the car and I went over to the driver’s side door. To my surprise, Jasper followed me, and when I opened the door he moved to grab the top of it, as if he was going to shut it once I got in.

  I glanced at him as he did it, and my eyes fluttered when he smiled.

  “Detective Cutter is worried that you’re involved yet again in a crime investigation,” he said.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about, ‘again,’” I said. “Besides, I’m not involved. You saw what happened just like everybody else. I was just standing there, and I had no more idea than the rest of you that you were going to find a dead body in the silo.”

  Despite my protestations, I would have loved to know a lot more than I did. If I could just find the ghost that went with the body, we’d all be much further ahead.

  “Mr. Smith’s body has been released to the family, and we’ve been given the all clear to have people at the barn again. I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea to get people there as quickly as possible, or wait a bit,” said Jasper.

  Charlie leaned over and said, “You should probably let some time go by. But after a bit, I think you should get people in there as if nothing happened. Or rather, as if what happened isn’t going to affect anything.”

  Jasper nodded. “I tend to agree. I’ve asked a bunch of painters and decorators to come in and really make the place look nice and comforting.”

  “Let us know if there’s anything we can do,” I said.

  “I was hoping you’d come by and have dinner with me there. Liam too, just to show people that it’s still a place people can go and hang out and have a nice time.”

  I loved the barn, it’s what had first led me to reconnect with Jasper for the first time since high school. And I knew that if he couldn’t recover from the Mystery of the Body in the Silo, he might as
well go back to his original plan and bulldoze the place.

  “We’ll come to dinner,” I said. “Charlie can put a picture in the paper of us eating there if she has to. We’re going to save the barn. I promise! Hank Smith loved that barn, and he wouldn’t want his death to destroy everything it stood for.”

  Jasper gave me a grateful smile. “I have to go. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

  My face flushed. “Who me?” I said. “Get into trouble? I’d never.” Just on weekdays and weekends.

  “We’ll keep her out of trouble,” promised Charlie.

  “Awesome, except I know you’ll be there right alongside her,” said Jasper with a chuckle.

  “Of course we will,” said Greer. “True friends are the ones who are arrested alongside you, didn’t you know?”

  I got into the car and smiled gratefully at my roommates. “I can’t believe everyone thinks I do nothing but get into trouble. It’s not my fault I can talk to ghosts.”

  “Speaking of ghosts, we should ask Paws about Hank Smith’s ghost and where he might be, so we can go looking for him,” said Charlie.

  “Yeah, I think tonight might be a good time to pay a visit to the cemetery,” I said.

  “Funnel will be pleased,” said Greer.

  “Which means Paws won’t,” said Charlie.

  “Excellent. The sooner we go the better,” I said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I told you to forget about the ghost! The fact that the ghost is missing is a dark business,” Paws yowled when I told him of our plan.

  The three of us were standing on the porch ready to go, wearing warm jackets against the night chill. I hated having to brace myself for the cold every time I stepped out the door, but that was life in New England.

  We had come home to get Paws so he could go with us to the cemetery. Of course, he was being difficult.

  “You told me to forget about the ghost before we knew who he was,” I argued.

  “I see no difference. Why can’t I just be listened to? Is it because I’m a cat?”

  “Yes, that’s it, it’s because you’re, cat,” I said.

  “To be fair, she really doesn’t listen to anyone,” said Greer. “She wouldn’t listen to a dog, either.”

  “I should hope not,” sniffed Paws.

  “So you’re coming?” I prodded.

  “I can’t very well let you go by yourself and get into all kinds of trouble, can I?” said the cat. My getting in trouble seemed to be a theme this evening. First Jasper, now the cat.

  “Well, you could,” said Charlie. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

  For anyone hunting for a missing ghost, there was only one place to go. The Mintwood Cemetery was kept up by Mr. Snicks, the husband of the librarian. He was very nice and he was great at his job, so the cemetery was always free of weeds and each grave was lovingly tended. All the ghosts appreciated his efforts, and due to his hard work it was one of their favorite gathering places.

  “Hey, look who it is,” said Mr. McCoy with a big smile. He was a ghost with a bad bruise on his head that he didn’t seem to notice; we were acquainted because he’d been involved in my first case. He wore a fancy dress coat and walked with a cane.

  “Hey there,” I said. I gave him the slight bow that was customary when greeting ghosts and tried not to look at the wound on his head.

  “What brings you to this neck of the woods?” he asked.

  “Well, not that dog,” said Paws, eyeing the approaching ghost animal.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” said Funnel.

  The dog was a bloodhound with floppy ears that swished gently as he loped over. He hated the dark, so I’d shown him where the shed light was always shining in the cemetery. He was eternally grateful to me and considered himself to be in my debt, which of course had been my plan all along.

  “We’re looking for a ghost named Hank Smith,” I said.

  “I’ve heard about this bad business. He was murdered years ago,” said Mr. McCoy, shaking his mangled head and making me queasy.

  “Have you seen him?” said Charlie.

  “Most of the ghosts who are here were buried here. The ones who hang around but aren’t buried here do like to visit often, and I did ask around, because I figured you’d be coming to check. But no one has ever met Hank Smith as a ghost,” said Funnel.

  My shoulders drooped in disappointment. Where could this Hank Smith ghost have gotten too? Was it possible that Paws’ doom and gloom predictions were right?

  I glanced down at the cat, who was looking up at me with an I told you so expression.

  I told myself that at least I should be glad he didn’t have a creepy stare like Ms. Ivy’s Neely. Paws’ stare was more accusatory than threatening. I felt like I was a mouse . . . and in that scenario he’d still be a cat.

  “Okay, if you’re so smart, tell me where he might be,” I said, looking at Paws with exasperation.

  “I told you, if a ghost is missing, meaning not with his body, it’s a bad business,” said the cat.

  Funnel’s ears made a show of perking up. “You think a dark witch took him?”

  “I don’t think, I know,” said Paws.

  I looked at the other two ghosts and said, “He thinks that’s the only explanation for Hank Smith’s disappearance. If that’s the case, the witch must’ve gotten to him a long time ago, if none of you have ever met him.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Mr. McCoy. “Hank Smith the ghost could’ve stayed around the silo for years, maybe near Kayla Caldwell and the lake. With all the construction on the barn recently, he might have ventured out and lost his way.”

  “Well, we really need to talk to him, so if you come across him will you let us know?” I said.

  In my last case Funnel had come all the way to the farmhouse when there was a ghost wanting to speak with me. I could only hope that someone would be willing to do it again if there was need.

  “Sure thing, but I don’t think he’ll be coming anywhere near us after the hullaballoo that’s been made about him,” said Funnel. “He’s probably just found a nice shed light and is staying there to keep out of the darkness.” Since the ghost dog was afraid of the dark, he thought everyone else was too.

  “Is it true that other ghosts have gone missing?” I said.

  The two cemetery ghosts exchanged worried looks, and I knew I was onto something.

  “It’s hard to tell with ghosts, except for the ones who live in the cemetery, and those are all accounted for,” said Mr. McCoy. “A lot of ghosts come in and out and we’re never sure where they’re from or where they go when they leave.”

  “What he’s not saying is yes,” said Paws.

  I wondered if my grandmother had ever had so much to do as the Witch of Mintwood.

  As we left the cemetery I gazed around, taking in all the ghosts who were milling around. Some were dancing and some were playing cards, others were talking or having tea parties.

  In the midst of the merriment, there was the threat of a dark witch out to get them. And the only thing that stood between her and the ghosts was me.

  “Does something seem off to you?” asked Charlie.

  We were finally home for good. I felt like I’d been running around all day, and all I wanted to do was take a shot shower and crawl into bed. When I woke up in the morning, a servant would bring me coffee and toast.

  A girl can dream.

  “What seems off is that we’re covered in dirt and mud, and still smiling,” I said.

  “True, I’ve certainly never had that feeling before. But isn’t there something else?” Charlie was looking around the farmhouse as if she had never seen it before.

  Something did feel off, now that she mentioned it. It was almost as if we weren’t alone in the house. The three of us exchanged worried glances, then fanned out carefully. Greer grabbed a baseball bat out of the closet and handed it to Charlie, then snapped her fingers to call Charger, with no result.

  Greer glanced at me and
shrugged; I knew we both assumed the dog was asleep. I nodded back at Greer as if to say “Right, sure, I should be fine. I’m a witch!”

  As we crept through the house, I kept expecting Gary to jump out and yell at me again, accusing me of breaking into my own home. Then again, I had yet to see him when Charlie and Greer were around.

  An old farmhouses down a long and lonely road in the middle of the woods was anything but comforting, I had to admit, if only to myself.

  Usually, I felt safe because the were ghosts around, but since the attack I had been feeling more vulnerable. There was an adversary out there who was capable of getting past the ghosts; I knew that much. The question was what to do about it.

  Wander around the dim rooms with a baseball bat and some hope, apparently.

  My friends went upstairs while I stayed on the first floor. Given that I was the witch, I had a better chance of defending us than they did, and I felt that I was more likely to run into an intruder downstairs than up.

  My heart was hammering so loudly in my chest that I had to stop for a moment and force air into my lungs. In my current state of mind, every shadow was a creeping figure, and even a tiny speck of dust floating in the air was a hand reaching out to grab me.

  I was just starting to get hold of myself when I heard a noise from upstairs, a sort of scraping.

  I froze. My friends were up there. What if whoever had broken into the farmhouse was upstairs as well?

  Gathering my courage, I broke into a run and hit the living room just as the scraping sound came again.

  In the darkness, all I saw was a slowly moving shadow on the stairs.

  A scream died in my throat.

  In desperation, I thought of the nearest light source, the fire, but it had burned down to orange embers. The unlit candle on the mantelpiece was my second choice.

  The next instant they both burst into life. A flicker of illumination shot through the room and then died down a bit.

  The shape on the stairs leapt into action.