Witch of Christmas Past Read Free Page B

to keep it from slipping into the cold case files. I will find Granny. You can bet your funny looking hat on that one,” I shot back, adding an evil eye to go with it.
    He gave me a curt nod and disappeared.
    Damn! I’d had so much more to ask him.
    “Who are you talking to?” A voice startled me from behind.
    I swung around to face Malcolm Skeet, Uncle Aaron’s best friend since grade school.
    Today Skeet actually didn’t look too bad. Although he still had his sandy hair in dreadlocks, his black denim jeans looked clean, and he was a wearing a black, Alice Cooper t-shirt.
    Skeet was familiar with the fact that the Osbornes were witches, but I didn’t think he liked hearing about the ghosts that lived in the mansion.
    “Umm … I was just talking to myself. Is Uncle Aaron here?” I asked before he could question me further.
    “Yeah, he’s in there playing Holly Homemaker. You Osbornes must be getting some strange gas leaks in your houses or something. You’re talking to yourself, and he’d prefer to skip out on the Crow’s concert so he can stay home and bake cookies.”
    What was with all the insults this morning?
    I decided it was time to give Skeet one of my death stares. “Okay now. That was uncalled for.”
    “Sorry.” He shrugged. “But your uncle is going nuts or something. We’ve had these tickets for two months, and all the sudden he decides he doesn’t want to go. Annabelle even said she’d cover for him at the station tonight.”
    “I’ll see what’s up with Uncle Aaron. If I can change his mind, I’ll have him give you a call.”
    Instead of going right in, I waved as Skeet walked away. It seemed a little strange that he was on foot, instead of driving his car.
    “Where’s your car?” I called.
    “Broke down this morning. I was hoping to use Aaron’s car, but …” His words trailed off and he shrugged.
    “Good luck. Hope you get your car fixed.” I waved again.
    When Skeet was out of sight, I opened the door and walked in. If anyone else had any issues with me, they could just take them up with me inside.
    “Uncle Aaron! Where are you?” I yelled.
    “Back here in the kitchen … whipping up some breakfast!”
    Now that I was inside, I could totally see what Skeet was talking about. The house was spotless.
    I hadn’t seen it this clean in months.
    Not only that, but all the Christmas decorations were up too.
    Uncle Aaron had been decorating, cleaning, and now he was cooking breakfast. Normally, this might seem like average Saturday morning activities, but not from a man who had trouble getting out of bed before 2:00 in the afternoon.
    Even before I made it to the kitchen I caught the scent of bacon and blueberry pancakes.
    “Pull up a chair and I’ll fix you a plate,” he told me, as he was flipping a pancake.
    What was wrong with Uncle Aaron?
    Without taking my eyes off him, I sat at the table. I was getting the distinct impression that my uncle had been possessed by some alien entity, one that liked to cook and clean.
    “Skeet tells me that you don’t want to go to the concert tonight. I thought you really liked the Crows?”
    Aaron lifted both his meaty shoulders. “Seems to me it would be such a waste of time when there is so much here that needs to be done.”
    I couldn’t really find an argument for that. Granny’s house was in desperate need of some upkeep, but still.
    “But you might not get another chance to see them in concert,” I reminded him. “Isn’t it a final tour?”
    “Not a big deal. Maybe next time.” Aaron was still smiling, but suddenly it seemed strained.
    Hmm … what part of final tour didn’t he understand?
    “One or two pancakes?” he asked.
    “None for me. Thanks anyway.”
    “No problem. I’ll just freeze these up for later.” He got into Granny’s old oak cupboard and started rummaging for freezer bags.
    I opened my mouth to ask him why he’d bought the concert tickets in the first place, but was interrupted by my phone.
    It