Murder at Midnight (Witches of Keyhole Lake)

by Maher Tegan

  Twenty minutes later, we were pulling up in front of Noreen's place. Hunter had called her to make sure she’d be home on the pretense of needing to ask her more questions.

  “How much do you think she made as an assistant? I wouldn’t think much, right?” I asked, eyeballing the place from a fresh perspective. The last time we’d been here, I’d been distracted by the vision I’d had at Coralee’s. My head was much clearer now.

  “According to the records I went through, she was makin’ fifteen bucks an hour,” he replied, shutting off the truck.

  “That’s an awful spendy car for somebody who only makes fifteen bucks an hour,” I said, motioning to the Lexis parked beside us.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess it is.”

  “And she wasn’t wearing cheap clothes the other day, either. I’m not sure about brands, but I do know those shoes were Manolos.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” he said, “But I’m going to assume it means they're expensive.”

  “Very,” I said, growing irritated at myself for missing such big red flags. I was beginning to get clarity, and I was almost positive I knew what had happened. “I can’t afford them, and I make a lot more than fifteen bucks an hour. Did you look at Barbie Lee’s financials by any chance?”

  “Sure,” he replied, looking at me, but not making a move to open the door. “It was one of the first things I did when we suspected her of dipping.”

  “What did you come up with?”

  “We don’t think she was, or if she was, it couldn’t have been much. She wasn’t living beyond her means, the only deposits made lined up with her paycheck, and she didn’t have much in savings.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I replied, then opened the truck door. “Mind if I do the questioning?”

  He shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

  She was ready for us when we got to the door. “Sheriff. Ms. Flynn,” she said as she stepped out onto the porch. She’d done the same last time. It wasn’t altogether unheard of, but folks in our parts were more likely to ask you to come in than join you on the porch, especially when it was hot out.

  “Do you mind if we come in?” I asked, fanning my face. “This heat’s killin’ me.”

  There was no mannerly way for her to say no, and since she was from there, I was counting on her raising to overcome any desire to keep us out of her house.

  “I’d rather not,” she said with a sugary sweet smile. “The place is a disaster.”

  Hunter pulled a paper folded in thirds out of his pocket. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to insist,” he said, handing her the paper. “That’s a search warrant.”

  I had no idea how he’d managed that in the ten minutes it had taken him to pick me up, but I’d have to kiss him for it later.

  Her face remained impassive as she read over the paper. She turned to go back inside and motioned for us to follow her. “Okay, then, it looks like I don’t have a choice.”

  She hadn’t been lying; the place was a mess. Clothes were strewn over the back of the couch and empty takeout containers cluttered a coffee table situated in front of one of the biggest TVs I’d ever seen. What caught my eye, though, was the ticket book lying beside a pizza box. I recognized it because I kept a similar one to write out receipts at the shop. A rubber stamp sat beside it.

  Rather than point it out, I decided to question her first.

  “Let’s sit in the kitchen. There’s more room there,” she said, eyeing the coffee table.

  “Sure,” I said, and we followed her through.

  The kitchen wasn’t as bad as the living room, but there was a sink full of dishes and a dirty pot on the stove. She motioned toward the table and cleared away a stack of mail.

  “I’m not sure why you felt a warrant was necessary just to ask me a few questions,” she said, crossing her legs.

  “Routine,” I said. “I’d like to ask you about the business. You said she was about to make you partner, right?” This time, I wasn’t polite. I opened my radar up wide and was ready to jump right into her melon if I needed to.

  “Yes, that’s right. She promised me if we met this quarter’s goals, she’d promote me.”

  “But you seem to be doing just fine,” I said. “Nice car, spendy shoes, a TV that would make any mancave a castle. How do you afford all of that?”

  She squirmed and her façade slipped a bit. “I have family money.”

  My lie detector went off like a five-alarm bell. “That’s a lie.”

  “E-excuse me?” she said, her head tilted.

  “You just lied to me. Were you stealing from the company? Padding receipts so it looked like you were paying out more than you were, then turning around and billing your clients and keeping the difference? You were her assistant, and I assume you were probably responsible for the clerical duties.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed, though I felt more panic than outrage oozing from her. My radar went off again.

  “That was another lie. Tell me, Noreen, why did you kill Barbie Lee? Did she find out what you were doing? Was she going to fire you? Was she going to press charges? What did it take to make you kill your best friend?”

  “She wasn’t my friend!” she snapped, then slammed a hand over her mouth.

  I sighed. “No need to stop now. We have a sample of your hair. She was grasping it in your hand, and unless I miss my guess, the bottle of peach fingernail polish that you dropped at the scene is going to have your fingerprints all over it. Tell us why you did it.”

  She sagged in her chair and I knew she was done.

  “She payed me a pittance. I worked fifty hours a week for her without overtime because I was salaried. She made me deal with all the repairs and the whiners, and she took all the credit. One day, I messed up a bill when I was transferring the amount to the books and I realized how easy it would be.”

  “Did she figure out what you were doing?” Hunter asked, and she nodded.

  Noreen nodded, not making eye contact. “It was that stupid window. I’d already billed for a new one and the dimwitted girl called to complain, except Barbie took the call. She confronted me, then went through the records with Frank. I’d stolen his ticket book and made a rubber stamp with his logo so I could just tuck his back and replace them with mine when it was time to do the billing.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “She was going to fire me at Fancy’s that night, I just know she was. She was going to let me down easy.”

  “So you canceled?” I asked. This was the part where I was still fuzzy.

  She shook her head. “No. I called and asked her to meet me out back. I told her I had the money I owed her. I figured if I could get her out there away from the music and noise, I could convince her to keep me on. When she came out, she was mad. She started calling me a thief and a liar, and she pushed me. We scuffled and had me in a chokehold. I managed to pick up the rock and hit her with it to let me loose.” She was now almost sobbing and had to stop to collect herself. I didn’t mean to kill her. I swear. All I wanted to do was get her off of me.”

  Hunter put up a finger. “Maybe you should stop there. You have the right to remain silent ...” I tuned out the rest because it was just a jumble of formality and her pleading for us to believe her. Instead, I pulled out my phone and found Miranda in my contacts. It was about time she knew she wasn’t going to prison for a murder she didn’t commit.

  Chapter 18

  “So it wasn’t Barbie Lee that was stealing after all,” Raeann said the next morning as we had coffee on my back patio.

  “Nope,” I said. “It was Noreen. She got greedy and then killed her instead of facing losing her job and going to jail. She probably would have only gotten probation, or at the very most a couple years in prison. Now she’s going away for life.”

  “Crime doesn’t pay,” Max said from beside us.

  “It does not, Officer McGruff,” Raeann said, smiling.

  Max either missed the reference or chose to ignore her as he m
ade his way down the ramp to his own private wading pool. It was already hot, and that was his favorite place to be. Matt had built it especially for him when he’d done the big pool, and Max used it every day.

  “What’s gonna happen with the apartments?” Raeann asked. “I mean, poor Miranda still doesn’t have air conditioning, right? And I’m sure other people will have problems. That’s a lot of apartments, and all the buildings are getting old.”

  “Frank’s going to handle it until they can get a new property manager,” I replied, taking a sip of my latte. “He’s actually happier now that he can fix everything right instead of just cobbling it together with duct tape and baler’s twine.”

  “That doesn’t make sense to me,” Raeann said. “If she wasn’t stealing the money, then why was she so cheap when it came to fixing things?”

  “I asked the same thing. Apparently, she got a bonus for staying under budget. The incentive was designed to make her maintain the place before expenses got out of hand, but she was lazy in the beginning, I suppose. I’m not sure why she did it that way, but it’s just one more sign to me that the corporate way is not for me. When you keep business small and personal, this sort of thing doesn’t happen. Nobody should have to live without hot water or air conditioning so somebody else can get a bonus.”

  “No they should not,” she replied, then kicked back in her chair. We sat in silence as we sipped our coffee and watched the horses play in the pasture on the other side of the pool.

  “This right here is how it should be for everybody,” I said. “If I had my way, everybody would have their own little slice of paradise.” But I was a witch and not a god.

  “So psychic powers, huh?” she asked. “How do you feel about it?”

  “Not pleased,” I replied. “I don’t want to know what’s going to happen, especially when it’s just out of the blue.”

  “No, I agree. Where’d you get that?” she asked, motioning to the charm bracelet on my wrist. I’d done as Levana had suggested and cleansed it in saltwater overnight, and now it was all shiny and new looking. It felt good, too.

  “I found it in a drawer of an old desk I bought at a sale this weekend.”

  “Found what in a drawer?” Addy asked, popping in between Rae and me.

  I held up my wrist. “This. Pretty, isn’t it?”

  She swept closer to me, her translucent face pale. “Roll them around so I can see the charms.”

  I did, and she frowned. “I’m not certain, but go in and get that picture of my grandmother. It’s on the mantle.”

  I got up and did as she asked, Raeann trailing behind me.

  “There,” Addy said, pointing to a picture of my grandmother holding her. “Take a picture with your phone and zoom in on her wrist.”

  I did, and sure enough, there was a bracelet just like mine. “Yeah, but it’s black and white and grainy. There’s no way to know that this is the same bracelet.”

  She chewed on her lip and looked at the bracelet again. Finally, she grinned. “Nope, I know for sure that it is. Right there. I’d forgotten all about it, but the three in a row. Amethyst, bloodstone, moonstone. Not only are they excellent for spellwork, but they’re also birthstones. February, March, and June. My birthday, Beth’s, and your mom’s.”

  I examined it with wonder, rubbing the stones, and they grew warm under my hand. “So why did it come to me?”

  Addy shrugged. “I don’t know, Noelle. But that was the grandmother I was talking about when I said one of us had psychic gifts.”

  Raeann leaned forward and fingered the stones. “After you’ve found so many items and paired them with the folks they were meant for, something finally found you. Take it for the gift it is and don’t worry about the why of it. Sometimes the only answer is that the universe means for it to be that way.”

  I smiled, then sat back to finish my coffee in the company of family, past and present. My life was blessed, and right then, that was all that mattered.

  Thank you!

  I hope you enjoyed this newest installment in the Keyhole Lake series as much as I loved writing it, and thank you for giving me your valuable time! If you haven’t read my new Paranormal Artifacts series, I’ve included Chapter 1 of Haunted Pendant for you below.

  Haunted Pendant

  Chapter 1

  “Knock it off!” I said, jabbing my fork at my best friend Eli’s hand. It was the fourth time he’d tried to filch a scallop from my plate.

  “I can’t help it,” he said, snatching his hand back before I could impale it. “I’m stress eating.”

  I scoffed. “What’s got your knickers in a twist now? Is your dry cleaning late? Are your Yoda socks dirty? Oh! No, I know. You forgot it was Tuesday and didn’t steal the crossword out of Mr. Anderson’s newspaper before he got it off the stoop.”

  “Stop minimizing my struggles.” He scowled at me, his dark eyes narrowed. “And besides, it’s not any of those things, though I did miss the crossword this morning. I’m stressing about the dive.”

  I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth. Unlike me, Eli tended to stress about pretty much everything, but never a dive. We’d been exploring Marauders Bay since we were kids, and we knew it inside out. The only truly dangerous part of it was Devil’s Reef, a treacherous stretch of coral and sand that formed a horseshoe around the bay. The jagged coral and deep sugar sand created a hull-ripping quagmire that had sunk more than one ship over the years.

  That wasn’t what worried me, though. We knew every inch of the reef just as well as we knew the bay, and Eli was brash, outspoken, and had never met a convention he didn’t want to flout. It’s why we’d been best friends since kindergarten. He was also one of the most powerful warlocks I’d ever met. If he was stressing, then it would probably behoove me to stress, too.

  “What do you mean, stressing? Like, you’re worried we’ll rip a sail, or you foresee our imminent, shark-induced deaths?” The shrimp and scallops I’d just eaten were swimming in my gut much harder than they ever had in the ocean.

  He blew a breath out through his cheeks and ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Sage. It’s just a feeling, but it’s hard to pinpoint because the storm messed with my juju. I don’t sense physical danger. Just ... something else not good.”

  “Just not good? Or flat-out bad?” I fought the urge to run my hands over my arms to flatten the hairs that were standing up on them. I’d never known his senses to be wrong, and as much as I was looking forward to our post-storm adventure, I was neither stupid nor suicidal. “Do we need to call off the dive?”

  A category-one hurricane had blown through a few days before, and the water in the bay was finally clear enough to allow for some visibility underwater. We’d made some of our best finds right after storms, so the explorer in me was anxious to get out there.

  He pressed his lips together and pushed them to the side, thinking. “If we do, we’ll miss the shifts caused by the storm, plus Larry’s going out of town tomorrow. I think instead of diving the reef, we should probably stick to the bay. Even if the boat sinks, we can swim back to shore.”

  I had to hope he was kidding, though I couldn’t be sure. Larry was the only captain we ever went out with. He was reliable and capable, not that other captains weren’t. It was just that Larry’d been taking us out to look for treasure and explore the ocean since we were kids, and our Saturday dives were sort of a tradition. Still, it would suck to sink his boat just because we wanted to explore the bay post-storm. No trinket was worth that, and even as talented as we were, I wasn’t sure we could levitate an entire sailboat back to shore.

  “Okay,” I said, then stared at him for a few seconds, watching his expression.

  “What?” he snapped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Did the feeling go away now that we changed our plans?”

  He rolled his eyes and heaved a long-suffering sigh. “It doesn’t work that way, and you know it.”

  I pushed the last remaining bit of lingu
ini around on my plate, not even really seeing it.

  “Young lady! That butter sauce is mana from the heavens. Ezra didn’t make it for you to play in it.” A pleasantly plump woman on the other side of middle age clucked at me as she filled my iced tea. “And since when do you leave so much as a noodle behind, anyway?”

  I smiled at her, though my mind was still a little distracted. “Never, Maris. And don’t tell Ezra. He’ll think I’m sick and send me home with a gallon of chowder to help me recuperate.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Eli said, his generous lips curving up into a half-smile. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”

  Ezra made the best seafood chowder that had ever passed my lips. Rich, creamy, and made with only the freshest ingredients. Larry, who was Maris’s brother, was a shrimper by trade, so Ezra had an inside track on the good stuff.

  Maris flapped her hand at Eli. “You about eat us out of house and home here, you and your all-you-can-eat fried-clam addiction. I’m not sendin’ the rest of the day’s profits home with you, too.”

  He hopped up and pulled her into a big hug, then planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “You know you love me, Ms. Maris. I’m your best customer.”

  Her plump cheeks pinked, and she smacked him on the arm as she patted her gray hair. “Fresh! Now go on, you two. Surely you have somethin’ better to do than sit around a musty old fish house on such a beautiful day.”

  Her description of the restaurant was way off base. The Cozy Clam was old, but the weathered wooden floorboards and plank tables worn smooth by the feet and elbows of thousands of happy customers gave the place a homey, welcoming feeling you just didn’t find in a brand-new building.

  Used nautical pieces including fishing nets, deep-sea lures with chipped paint, old line weights, and even a wheel salvaged from a sunken pirate ship covered every square inch of wall, giving it an authentic feel that you’d never get in a chain seafood place. The smells of ocean air, fried seafood, garlic, and French fries had hovered in the air for so long that it had permeated the very walls. There was nothing about the place that wasn’t amazing, at least to somebody who’d grown up on the ocean’s edge.