The Usual Witchspects (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 25) by Amanda M. Lee

Author:Amanda M. Lee [Lee, Amanda M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WinchesterShaw Publications
Published: 2024-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

15

FIFTEEN

My father was in the kitchen with Clove’s father, Warren, at the Dragonfly. They had two cars in the lot, suggesting a few guests, but I didn’t see anyone loitering about, and Thistle’s father, Teddy, was nowhere in sight.

“Hello.” Dad beamed when he saw me. “This is a surprise.”

“I stop in.” I didn’t mean to be petulant, but I couldn’t help myself. Occasionally, guilt got the better of me when I visited my father. We were in the same town, but I rarely saw him more than once a week.

“I wasn’t giving you a hard time.” Dad stopped chopping celery and looked me up and down. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you jumping to that conclusion because we always have trouble?” I tried to laugh. “I’m sorry,” I offered when he raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a rough two days.”

“Does this have something to do with the body found at Margaret Little’s house?” Warren asked. “We heard that Tillie was there when it was found.”

“Thistle and I were there too.”

“Doing what?” Dad asked.

“Oh, you know, hexing clown dolls to sing and torture Mrs. Little.” This time I smiled.

Dad’s mouth fell open. “You did what?”

“She’s a horrible woman.”

“Bay.” Dad almost looked disappointed. “You’re an adult.”

“I’m not sorry.” I folded my arms over my chest and jutted out my chin. “She’s trying to buy up the town. She keeps partnering with evil people. She’s not innocent in all of this.”

“Maybe not, but do you really think the clowns were necessary?”

“In hindsight, it might have been overkill. Especially since the Pennywise clown Aunt Tillie hexed—it’s four feet tall—has a butcher knife and might be sentient.”

Warren’s hand hit his face. Dad just stared.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I said hurriedly. “We’ll find him. He seems more interested in stalking us anyway.”

“Unbelievable,” Dad said. “Bay⁠—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I shouted. “We have other problems. The clowns are low on the list of our worries right now.”

“How frightening is that?” Warren drawled.

I shrugged. “We live interesting lives. What can I say?”

That nudged a smile out of Dad. “Who did the body belong to?” he asked after a few seconds. “They’re saying it wasn’t a local.”

“Brad Childs.”

“Brad?” Dad looked appalled. “Really?”

Well, that answered that question. “You knew him?”

“I did.” Dad abandoned his culinary masterpiece and shifted closer to me. “What was he doing at Margaret Little’s house?”

“We don’t know, but I have to ask you a few questions.”

“This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s not going to be good.” This conversation wouldn’t go well, and it was entirely my fault. I had no choice but to dive in. “What did you know about Brad?”

“What do you mean?” Puzzlement replaced worry on Dad’s face. “He was looking in the area for a home for his family.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Is that not true?” Warren asked.

I shook my head. “Brad Childs was the warden at Antrim Correctional.”

“Was he in charge when all those prisoners escaped?” Dad asked.

“He was. He lost his job over that.” I took a deep breath.

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