Witch of Mintwood Mysteries 7-9 Page 7

  It was at this point that the secretary realized that there was no way she wanted Greer on that side of the desk. She started marching backwards just as Greer started marching back the other way again.

  “Ah ha! Here it is,” said Greer. She quickly bent her head and used her newly acquired pen to scrawl something in the official black leather calendar of the mayor of Mintwood.

  The secretary went white. I had a feeling that no one had scheduled the mayor for anything, real or imagined, in years.

  Greer returned the calendar to the desk, opened to today. “Now I have an appointment.”

  “The nerve of young people!” was all the secretary was able to blurt out.

  “Thank you,” said my friend, and without another word she turned on her heel, marched up to the mayor’s door, and knocked hard. From the other side of the door we heard, “Shirley, since when do you knock?”

  “It’s not me,” Shirley called back. “I would never do anything so vulgar as to knock.”

  We heard the sound of shuffling, and then the large wooden door was pulled open by the mayor himself.

  “ Oh, I see,” he said. The leader of our little town surveyed the three of us from under his bushy white eyebrows and concluded, “You’d better come in.”

  As we sauntered past Shirley and through the door, the mayor sat down behind his large desk. Over his shoulders was a beautiful view of Main Street, possibly the best view in all of Mintwood if you didn’t count the ones from the top of the mountain. Then again, Mrs. Ivy’s view was nothing to sneeze at either. And even the hills and woods around my farmhouse were quite lovely.

  Okay, maybe there were a lot of nice views in Mintwood.

  “What can I do for you?” asked the mayor, sitting back in his chair. “I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with . . .” He gave me a hard look and I realized he must be assuming I’d come in my capacity as a witch.

  Greer realized the same thing and rushed to explain.

  “We’re actually here because of me,” she said.

  The mayor focused on her. He seemed to have forgotten that just yesterday morning he had been at the farmhouse asking her to enter the fair baking competition and win it for the four thousand Mintwooders and everyone who didn’t like Caedmon’s speed limit.

  “I’ve decided to enter,” said Greer.

  Charlie gasped and I clapped. The mayor still looked confused.

  “Enter what?” he asked.

  “The baking competition at the fair,” said Greer. “I said no yesterday but I changed my mind today.”

  “Entries for all fair competitions close at noon today,” he said, checking a very ancient-looking watch.

  “Then I’d better hurry,” said Greer, glancing at the grandfather clock. She had half an hour.

  The man was about to say something else when his phone rang. Simultaneously his door burst open and the secretary came in. “You have to take that,” she said, breathing hard.

  The mayor frowned. He was clearly not used to being ordered around, but he lifted the phone, put it to his ear, and listened. After a few seconds his face fell. “Yes, I understand,” he said impatiently. “No, I’ll be there directly. I’ll come right down.”

  For a moment he seemed to forget we were there. Then he looked at us distractedly and said, “You’ll have to forgive me. I must be going. I’m very happy to hear that you’re going to do show jumping.”

  Pushing himself out of his chair, he moved to the coat rack and fetched his white jacket and top hat. Then he grabbed his cane and quickly left the office.

  We still weren’t alone, however, since Shirley was standing at the door and holding it open, obviously prepared to wait us out forever if need be. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to leave until we left, even if it took months. Or decades.

  “What was that about?” Charlie asked.

  “Official business. Nothing to do with you,” sniffed the secretary.

  “Was it about the fire last night?” Charlie asked quickly.

  “It was pretty obvious that was about the fire last night,” I pointed out.

  The secretary merely stamped her foot impatiently. At that point we left before she did something really drastic.

  Back outside, uncharacteristically unsure of ourselves, we stood on the pavement waiting for a clue as to what to do next.

  “I don’t think he remembered that he asked me to enter baking competition,” said Greer.

  “Definitely not,” I said.

  “How do I officially enter?” Greer asked.

  “There’s a designated a booth at the fairgrounds,” I said. I had seen it when I went out there to help Liam.

  “Do you mind making a stop?” Greer asked.

  “Where are we going?” Charlie asked.

  “The fairgrounds,” said Greer with determination.

  The day was overcast, with rain threatening. It hadn’t rained in Mintwood in a long time, and the farmers were starting to complain. From that point of view the rain might be welcome, but from a fair planning point of view it was anything but.

  It didn’t take us long to reach the fairgrounds, where preparations for the fair were still in full swing.

  The tent nearest to the parking lot had an open front and three folding tables set up for fair registration. There was a bit of a line, since we were in the last hour before registration closed and Greer’s chance to challenge the annoying Mrs. Barb would be lost forever.

  Ms. Ivy, one of my pet sitting customers, was at the middle table and called us over. Her navy cardigan was covered in various colors of cat hair.

  “What are you here to sign up for? Dart throwing? Horseback riding? Book making or pig racing?” she asked, looking through her lists.

  “I’d like to sign up for the baking competition, please,” said Greer.

  Several heads turned to look at her.

  Ms. Ivy brightened. Then she immediately tried to cover her delight, but not before everyone within reach had noticed, with mixed reactions.

  “Needed some good news this morning,” she said, looking down.

  “How’d you get hold of my baked goods too?” Greer demanded. “I never knew I was cooking for the whole town.”

  “You take them to the bar sometimes. Well, your boss gets my mail and shovels my driveway when I’m away, so I stopped in once to check in after I’d returned from a trip, and you had just brought in some raspberry tarts. They were the most wonderful tarts.” Ms. Ivy looked dreamy, while Greer looked embarrassed. “You go win it for us! Win it for all of Mintwood,” said Ms. Ivy.

  Greer’s eyes widened. She still hadn’t quite realized that her entry would have an impact on the whole town. Next to her a woman’s shoulders slumped.

  “That’s Mavvie Davie,” said Charlie, who was standing just outside the tent with me, watching the proceedings.

  “The woman who looked especially upset when Ms. Ivy got excited?” I asked.

  “Yeah, she’s been coming in second for years. No one thinks she’s good enough to win the whole thing,” Charlie explained, “but maybe she was hoping that this would her year now that Mrs. Cook isn’t entering.”

  Greer said goodbye to Ms. Ivy with the excuse that she had to get to work, which was true enough. But Charlie and I knew that she was also just uncomfortable with the attention.

  As soon as Greer rejoined us we hurried to the car. Greer did indeed have to get to work, and since Charlie had a hunch that the mayor’s call had been about the fire, she wanted to check it out as soon as possible before someone scooped her.

  “Can you drop me off at work too?” Charlie asked me after Greer had gotten out at the bar.

  “Sure thing,” I said. “Did you hear whether they found Tabitha’s body?”

  Charlie shook her head. “No, but I have a feeling that’s why Lena wants me to come in. She’s been blowing up my phone for the last hour. If I don’t get there soon she’ll give the story to someone else.”

  “Lena wouldn�
�t do that,” I scoffed. “You get all the big stories.”

  “Lena says that if Hansen Gregory beats me to a story one more time, she’ll start giving stories to someone else.” Charlie bit her lower lip.

  “When has Hansen beaten you to a story?” I asked.

  “There was the case of the missing mailboxes. Turns out Mrs. Hiccup was taking them to decorate them like Victorian houses without telling anyone. Then there was the case of the Strange Sidewalk Art. Turns out there’s an artist colony a couple of towns over, and their shipment of canvases was a couple of days late. Lastly and most importantly, there was the case of the barking dog.”

  “Those all sound like very important cases,” I said, trying desperately to keep a straight face for the sake of our friendship. It was difficult.

  “Fine, don’t believe me, but Lena is serious,” said Charlie as we pulled up to the newspaper office.

  Being a good reporter mattered more to Charlie than anything else, and I didn’t like to see her so worried about her boss.

  I started the Beetle and got on the road. Paws would be home, and I wanted to do some final spring cleaning before Greer started baking like a madwoman.

  But there was one more thing I wanted to do before heading home. With a certain someone in mind, I drove over to the Babbling Brook Barn. It was lunchtime, and you never knew who you might run into.

  There were only a few cars parked at Babbling Brook at the moment, I assumed because the resort project Jasper was working on had kicked into high gear and made him and his crews even busier than usual.

  Not that it mattered to me. Our relationship had been all kinds of awkward since I had revealed to him that I was a witch and he a witch hunter. Actually, Meredith Munn was the one who had revealed it, but I hadn’t denied it, and now we had to live with the consequences.

  The part about him being a witch hunter was harder to prove, but just my confirming it had been enough.

  He wasn’t mad at me exactly. You know how women are confusing to men at the best of times? Saying hi, I’m a witch with a wand was not the best of times.

  I had beaten myself up again and again for blurting out my secret, but at the time I just hadn’t been able to help myself. And anyhow, how was I ever going to have a real relationship with Jasper Wolf if I didn’t tell him the truth?

  He had to know I was a witch.

  Little did he know that once he knew it, he’d soon have the great joy of meeting Paws.

  Jasper’s truck was in the parking lot this time, but so was Dylan Wolf’s fancy car. Nervous, I hopped out of the Beetle anyhow. I had promised myself that I wasn’t going to hide anymore when his grandfather was around, and this was my chance to prove it. Still, that didn’t mean I was going to be obvious about it.

  As I waited, still uncertain about what I was doing, the summer weather swirled around me, the sweet smell of grass and lake air mingling with the scent of the flowers Jasper’s crew had planted everywhere around the barn.

  For a split second I forgot where I was and paused to, yes, smell the roses.

  While I was enjoying the beautiful country view and the sunshine, the side door to the barn swung open and the Wolfs emerged. There were several people with them, none of whom I recognized.

  Just as the little group came into sight I had a strange, prickling sensation at the base of my neck and was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that I was in extreme danger of getting caught and had to move RIGHT NOW!

  Without really thinking about what I was doing, I raced for the nearest tree, an old oak, and flung myself behind it.

  Jasper was in danger. Something told me with a certainty I had never felt before that something bad was about to happen.

  Frantically I scanned the surroundings, but I saw nothing out of the ordinary. If Ellie was around, she wasn’t showing herself.

  “Can I help you with something?” came a man’s voice from behind me.

  I jumped into the air and turned around to see Tyler Spin standing behind me.

  Where had he come from?

  “Does it look like I need help?” I said.

  His eyebrows rose and I rolled my eyes.

  “Sorry, I was just looking for Jasper,” I said.

  “Behind the tree?” he asked.

  “It’s a nice view.” I tried to act like I was looking toward the lake, which was very hard to spot through the barn.

  “I can get him for you if you want,” he offered, but he didn’t move.

  “Oh, um, no, that’s okay,” I said. “I’m sure he’s busy.”

  “In fact, he was just in a very important meeting, and he’s still speaking to some of the board,” said Tyler.

  “Why aren’t you there?” I asked.

  “I just stepped out for a minute. I had no idea someone was casing the joint,” he said.

  My hackles rose. Someone was sneaking around? “Who?” I breathed.

  Tyler just looked at me.

  “Me? Now that’s just silly,” I scoffed and tried to smile. He kind of had a point, though.

  “I better get going,” I said curtly.

  Before Tyler could make any further comments, I walked swiftly toward my car.

  Jasper had gone back inside, but his grandfather’s vehicle was still there. After my fright, I had lost all my nerve. Besides, if I told Jasper I felt he was in danger without any proof he would think I was crazy.

  Only once did I glance back. Tyler was still standing by the tree, watching me intently. It struck me in that moment that I had felt a sense of danger and then Tyler had showed up. I really didn’t know anything about the guy who was now Jasper’s closest assistant.

  Chapter Ten

  On my way home I remembered with dismay that Jasper wasn’t the only one who was frustrated with me; so was Charlie. She had been uncharacteristically sensitive about my bringing up Lena and the stories they wrote for the paper, so maybe she really was in danger of losing out because of Hansen Gregory.

  Despite all the upset that had suddenly descended on my life, the farmhouse looked comfortingly the same as it always did when I got home. No one else was around, so I ended up spending a quiet afternoon cleaning.

  My grandmother’s spell books, stored in the middle part of the attic, were covered in dust. My first order of business was to bring them downstairs, dust them off, and stack them on a set of shelves that I moved into her office to hold them. The office also housed a lot of papers that we had been organizing when we had time. With the new shelves and the progress we’d made toward sorting things out, there was now space for some of the magical books that were supposed to help us witches be who we really were.

  Books were great that way. They showed us paths and things about ourselves that we never would have known otherwise.

  The day remained quiet, and I remained solitary. Neither Charlie nor Greer had come home by the time I was ready for bed; even Paws was missing from the porch. I went to sleep without having talked to anyone since noontime.

  The baking competition wasn’t far off, and also, I wanted to know about the fire. Most of all, I wanted my friends to not be mad at me.

  I went to sleep without any of that happening.

  Sometimes your body knows you need sleep, and sometimes, because of that, you happen to drag a pillow over your face so you have no idea when the sun has come up. That morning was one of those times. When I finally dragged the pillow away from my face it was nearly ten o’clock.

  I had slept way too long!

  I threw off the covers and tumbled downstairs, only to find the living room empty.

  Charlie always left her door open when she went to work, and it stood wide now. She had probably been gone for hours.

  At least Greer was still there, but true to form, Greer was still sleeping.

  The Mintwood Gazette was lying neatly folded on the table, and I fell on it like I’d fall on food if I hadn’t eaten in a week.

  On the front page blared the headline: BODY FOUND IN BURNING HOME.<
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  The police had discovered a body, and it was only a matter of time before they figured out who it was.

  Tabitha’s burned house was now a crime scene.

  The article was by Charlie Silver.

  According to the police report, fire crews had gotten calls about a fire in an empty house, which turned out to be Tabitha Tolls’ place. It wasn’t until after the fire was out and the ruins had cooled off that the body was discovered, along with the body of a cat.

  None of this was new information for me, but now that the police and the public knew about it, trying to do something about it would be a little easier.

  Charlie ended the article by repeating that Tabitha Tolls was the owner of the house, and no one had been in touch with her for a long time. Her sister in Florida hadn’t heard from the woman in a year, and neither had anyone else.

  “Is there an earthquake?” said a voice from behind me.

  I looked up from Charlie’s article as a yawning Greer shuffled into the kitchen.

  “No, why?” I asked.

  “Because of the way you thundered down the stairs. I thought the house must be falling down, or at least the porch.”

  When I stuck my tongue out at my roommate, she just sniggered.

  The image of the porch falling down was a running joke on the part of my roommates. My response was to keep insisting that the porch was fine, mostly because I couldn’t afford to have it repaired.

  “Sorry. Did I wake you?” I asked.

  “Yes, but that’s okay. I was having trouble sleeping knowing what we’d find out about Tabitha. The mayor’s call yesterday must have been about her, don’t you think?” Greer mused, sitting heavily into one of the chairs in the nook. Given that I was wide awake and she was looking jealously at my coffee, I stood up to get her a cup.

  As I got up I felt the weight of my green necklace against my collarbone, which reminded me that there was something bothering me besides the latest murders. I didn’t expect that ghosts and magic would be part of the fair, but that wasn’t what was on my mind anyhow. Besides getting a boyfriend and instantly giving him an excellent reason to dump me, I had other worries gnawing at me.

  There had been no sign of my grandmother’s—and hence my—witch enemy Ellie lately, or of Wendell the dark ghost, or of Betty, or of anyone else that I knew bore me no good will. You’d think that would have made me feel better, but it didn’t. I was just plunging into a gloomy reverie about all the bad things that might happen when Greer brought me back to the present.