wicked witches 07.5 - christmas witch (4 page)

“Of course he wants breakfast,” Marnie said. “He loves it when I cook him breakfast.”

“He loves it when I cook him breakfast,” Winnie corrected.

I tried to tamp down my irritation as I watched the spectacle unfold. Terry was a good man, a great man even. My nieces act like dogs in heat whenever he’s around, though. It was undignified … and annoying. I have no idea what they would do if one of them ever actually caught the man.

“Breakfast sounds great,” Terry said, shooting me a small smile as he settled next to Bay. “How is my favorite girl?”

Bay glanced at him, her face unreadable. Ever since her father left Bay has been drawn to Terry. I have no idea why. Whatever it is, Terry is good for her. He encourages her and shows an interest in her life. I think that’s what Bay needs right now, even if she doesn’t realize it.

“I’m worried,” Bay admitted.

Terry lifted an eyebrow. “What are you worried about?”

“Santa Claus is missing,” Clove supplied, her round cheeks quivering as she grimaced. “We’re all very worried he’s not going to come back in time to give us our puppy.”

“What puppy?” Terry looked confused.

“There is no puppy,” I said. “You’re not getting a puppy. Stop whining about the puppy. We don’t have room for a puppy.”

“If we have room for you, we have room for a puppy,” Thistle countered.

Terry pursed his lips to keep from laughing and turned back to Bay. “Are you worried about Santa Claus being missing?”

“I know that Mr. Hill isn’t really Santa Claus,” Bay replied. “I don’t believe in Santa Claus.”

“Don’t start that again,” I warned.

Bay rolled her eyes and ignored me. “The Christmas party needs a Santa Claus. Mr. Hill always plays Santa Claus. If he’s really missing … well … Christmas will be ruined.”

Something about Bay’s expression tugged at my heart. It was an odd feeling. “I already told you that Christmas won’t be ruined,” I reminded her. “Mr. Hill was probably drunk and forgot where he was supposed to be. We’ll all make sure he doesn’t make that mistake again.”

“Well … .” Terry forced a smile for Bay’s benefit and then turned in my direction. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“What do you mean?” Winnie asked.

“After Bernard didn’t show last night … should I talk about this in front of the K-I-D-S?” Terry’s face reflected concern.

“Probably not if you think we’re so dumb that we can’t spell kids,” Thistle replied, nonplussed.

Terry frowned. “You’re going to be a handful, young lady.”

“I keep hoping that’s true,” Thistle replied. “We know that Mr. Hill isn’t really Santa. There’s no reason to get all … weird and whiny about it. We can take it.”

That girl makes me laugh sometimes.

“Bernard hasn’t been seen in a few days,” Terry said, pointing at Thistle and mock shooting her with his finger. “When he didn’t show up last night I went on a hunt for him. As far as I can tell, he’s been gone for more than a week and no one has any idea where he is.”

“Oh, no,” Twila said, her hand flying to her mouth. “You don’t think he’s D-E-A-D, do you?”

Terry shrugged.

“He probably choked on the mistletoe when he tried to wash it down with his whiskey,” Thistle said. “His body is probably rotting somewhere right now.”

“You have a wonderful imagination, young lady,” Terry said, frowning. “Where do you even come up with stuff like that?”

“We have HBO,” Thistle replied, not missing a beat. “I’ve seen tons of movies.”

“And now you’re grounded from the television for a week,” Twila said.

Thistle narrowed her eyes. “If I can’t watch television then I’m going to have nothing better to do than watch you.”

Twila faltered. “Oh. I … um … .”

“Yeah, you didn’t think that one through, did you?” I asked, making a face. “Are you sure Bernard is missing? Maybe he moved or something.”

“All of his stuff is still at his house, and the mail has been piling up,” Terry replied.

“Maybe he’s dead,” Marnie suggested. “Where else could he be?”

That was a very good question. Thankfully, I had no interest in answering it. “Is there more bacon?”

“I told you Christmas was going to be ruined,” Bay said, pointing an accusatory face in my direction. “You never listen to me.”

“I promised you that I wouldn’t let Christmas be ruined,” I shot back. “Stop being such a … kvetch.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I’m pretty sure I’m not whatever that … thing … is,” Bay argued.

“Bay, I promised you the Christmas you want,” I reminded her. “Do I break my promises?”

Bay nodded.

“When have I ever broken a promise?”

“You promised us that you would make Mrs. Stevens dance naked in the middle of town so everyone would think she was drunk,” Thistle said. “That hasn’t happened.”

These kids remember everything. It’s annoying. “It hasn’t happened yet,” I said. “
Yet
being the operative word.”

“That had better never happen,” Winnie said.

I ignored her and kept my focus on Bay. “You have to have faith,” I said. “I’ll make sure you have a great Christmas. I won’t let you down.”

Bay didn’t look convinced. “You’d better make sure we get that puppy, too.”

“Yeah,” Thistle chimed in. “We don’t want a rat dog either. We want a big one. Don’t forget.”

“You’re not getting a puppy, so stop asking for a puppy,” I said. “I will handle Santa Claus, but that doesn’t mean you’re getting a puppy.”

“We want snow, too,” Bay added.

Good grief. “Fine. I’ll find Santa Claus and make it snow. Is there anything else besides a puppy that you want for Christmas?”

Bay considered the question. “World peace.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

There’s a reason I never had kids of my own. They suck. Yeah, I said it. How did I end up being the one who has to save Christmas?

Four

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be doing this,” Clove said, her tone ominous as she watched me peer into Bernard Hill’s bedroom window. “This is against the law.”

Clove was never going to be a rule breaker. It was a bit disappointing. “I was wrong when I said Bay was the kvetch this morning,” I said. “You’re the kvetch, Clove.”

“It’s not an insult if we don’t know what it means,” Thistle pointed out.

“It means she’s whiny and complains about things that are unimportant,” I explained. “What I’m about to do is not important and it’s definitely not something to whine about.”

“Are you sure?” Clove looked dubious.

“I’m sure.”

After watching my three great-nieces worry and pout through what should have been a perfectly nice breakfast – my three nieces throwing themselves at the same man notwithstanding – I knew I had to find Bernard to save Christmas. How I became the hero of Christmas was beyond me, but if I pulled it off I was buying a cape to wear around town.

“This place is a dump,” Thistle said, glancing around and wrinkling her nose. “Who would live here?”

“Maybe Mr. Hill is poor,” Clove suggested.

“Mr. Hill has a nice pension from when he served as custodian of the school,” I said. “He could have a better house, but he prefers whiskey to home ownership.”

“It sounds like whiskey is bad for you,” Clove said.

“It depends on how you drink it,” I shot back. “Okay, we need to get inside. Who wants me to boost them through this window?”

“Why can’t you just use your magic and open the back door?” Bay asked.

“Because the back door is visible from the street and I don’t want anyone to see us.”

“Because we’re doing something illegal,” Clove said. “I knew it!”

She was starting to get on my nerves. When Winnie suggested I spend the afternoon with the girls so their mothers could get their Christmas baking out of the way without greedy fingers slipping in the frosting bowl I didn’t exactly jump for joy. When I thought better of it, though, I realized they made the perfect alibi. No one would break into someone’s home with children in tow.

See, this is why I’m a genius.

“I already told you we’re not doing anything illegal,” I countered. “We’re doing something good.”

“What?”

“We’re trying to find Santa Claus,” Thistle supplied, hitting Clove on the back of the head. “Duh!”

“I hate you,” Clove hissed.

I snagged the back of her coat and dragged her from Thistle before the conversation dissolved into screams and punches. That would draw too much attention. Clove and Thistle are like oil and vinegar sometimes.

“You need to stop fighting right now,” I ordered.

“Because you’re afraid the cops will hear us and come arrest us,” Thistle said. “Admit it.”

“Because I’m embarrassed to be seen with you two right now,” I clarified. “I have a reputation to uphold, and you are ruining it.”

“I’ll go in through the window,” Bay offered, sighing dramatically as she edged Thistle out of the way with her hip. “There’s no reason for everyone to fight.”

I glanced at her a moment, taking in her solid thighs and hips, and then shook my head. She’s not a big girl, but compared to the other two she looks downright huge sometimes. “It has to be Clove.”

“What? Why?” Clove gnawed on her fingernails as the suggestion sank in.

“You’re the smallest,” I replied, hoping I sounded reasonable even though I wanted to throttle her. “Bay is too heavy for me to lift.”

Bay scorched me with a murderous look. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “I’m saying you’re bigger than the other two because you’re older. Clove is easiest for me to lift. She’s the smallest. I’m not as young as I used to be and I don’t work out.”

“I think you should use your magic,” Clove said.

“I already told you I can’t do that.”

“But … I don’t want to be in there alone.”

“Yes, but you’ll be the hero when we tell this story later,” I said, changing tactics. “When we find Santa and save Christmas, you’ll get all the applause.”

Clove preened under the suggestion. “Really? Do you think people will clap?”

“Absolutely. You’ll probably get more gifts, too.”

Clove moved in front of me, resigned. “Okay, but this has to be quick. If I go to jail for this, I’m going to be really mad.”

“Duly noted,” I said, sliding the window open with a little magical help. I laced my fingers together and inclined my chin toward them. “Put your foot in there.”

Clove did as instructed, and even though she was tiny, it took all of my strength to hoist her over my head. Bay and Thistle had to step in and help. The added muscle propelled Clove through the open window and we heard her crash into something as she landed on the other side.

“Are you okay, Clove?”

No answer.

“Clove?”

I couldn’t hear a thing inside of the house.

“Clove, this isn’t funny,” I said. “If you’re hurt, you need to give me a sign.”

“How is that going to work if she’s knocked out?” Bay asked.

I shot her a quelling look. “She’s not knocked out. She’s … .” Oh, Goddess, please tell me she’s not knocked out! If I have to call an ambulance and explain this, not only am I not going to save Christmas, I’ll probably be forced to eat whatever the jail calls turkey for Christmas dinner. No one wants that.

“She probably has a big cut in her head and she’s bleeding all over the place,” Thistle said.

“She’s probably dying,” Bay chimed in.

I seriously hate kids! “Clove, if you don’t answer me right now, I’m going to … .” What? What was I going to do? I couldn’t threaten a hurt child, could I?

Clove picked that moment to pop into view, and although she had a disgusted look on her face she appeared none the worse for wear.

“Why didn’t you answer me?” I asked.

“Because I was trying to figure out where my head was because it almost hit the dresser in here,” Clove replied. “And I landed on a pair of underwear. Do you know how gross that is?”

I did. Bernard had a tendency to sleep with the dregs of society. There is no way I would tell her that, though. “They were probably clean.”

“They aren’t clean,” Clove said, wrinkling her nose. “There are things on them.”

“Gross,” Thistle and Bay said in unison.

“I’ll buy some of those clean wipes when we get out of here,” I said. “It will kill all of the germs.”

“I want candy, too,” Clove said.

I narrowed my eyes. I was being shaken down by a child. It was insulting. “Maybe I’ll just leave you in there and let you explain to the cops why you’re breaking into someone else’s house.”

Clove’s eyes widened. “I knew we were breaking the law!”

“Go open the back door,” I ordered. “We’re coming around. Be quick about it.”

By the time Clove let us into Bernard’s house she was practically beside herself. I pushed Thistle and Bay inside, shutting the door behind me to lock out prying eyes, and focused on Clove. “What’s your problem now?”

“There are bugs flying around in the kitchen,” Clove replied, horrified. “Big ones.”

That didn’t sound good. “They’re not the type of bugs that go with dead bodies, are they?”

“What kind of bugs are those?”

“What kind of bugs are you seeing?”

“The kind that pop up on food when you don’t finish eating it and leave it on the counter for days at a time,” Clove replied. “It’s gross. I can never eat again. I hope you’re happy. I’m going to starve to death and die.”

“If you don’t stop complaining I’m going to make you eat that food and then you’ll really have something to complain about,” I threatened.

Clove snapped her mouth shut, disgusted.

“You’re a horrible babysitter,” Thistle said.

“Maybe that’s because you three are horrible babies.”

“Whatever.” Thistle rolled her eyes. “Where should we start looking for clues?”

That was a good question. “I don’t know,” I said, glancing around. Clove wasn’t exaggerating about the house being filthy. “Let’s start in the bedroom.”

“There’s not going to be creepy stuff in there, is there?” Bay asked.

I had no idea. “What do you consider creepy?”

“Dirty underwear.”

“Well, I think we all know there will be dirty underwear in there,” I said. “Clove announced it to the entire street.”