Sweet Murder: Witches of Keyhole Lake Mysteries

by Tegan Maher

  S: Whatev

  I closed my eyes and pulled in a few deep breaths. She was okay—that was the important thing. I pushed it to the back of my mind and headed back into Brew4U.

  In the brief time I'd been gone, the early lunch crowd had started to drift in. In addition to coffee and pastries, Rae had a limited lunch menu that included a few sandwiches, a soup of the day, and a couple of salads. I carried in the boxes of goodies and slipped behind the counter.

  Raeann and Angel were busy with customers so I dropped her keys back in her purse after I filled the pastry case, and made myself an iced mocha latte to go. I gave her a thumbs-up on my way out the door, and she winked while she was taking an order.

  The shop had only been open for a few months, but things were going well for her. Between her magical coffee, my enchanted pastries, and a huge dose of her bewitching personality—see what I did there?—the place was a huge success. She'd gone to UGA with me, and while I earned my degree in criminal justice then tied on a server’s apron, she earned hers in business management and opened her own business. At least one of us was using her degree.

  My phone chimed with an incoming text from a number I didn't recognize and I was surprised to see it was Hunter when I opened it up. I wondered briefly how he'd gotten my number, then remembered he'd taken it at Bobbie Sue's.

  I remembered what the girls had teased me about last night and felt an irrational fluttering in my belly. I'd met the man exactly twice. The first time he’d insulted me, and the second time—well, the second time he was okay, but not butterfly-worthy. Right?

  H: It’s Hunter. Thanks for the info last night. Wanna grab a coffee?

  Me: I'd love to. At Brew4U now. What do you want? I'll bring you a cup and show you around.

  I examined my response before I hit send and decided it sounded too enthusiastic. I erased it and started over.

  Me: I have a few minutes to spare. Since I’m already at Brew, what would you like? I’ll meet you at your office.

  H: Sounds great. A double-shot iced cappuccino, plz.

  Me: See you in 10.

  I thought briefly about the pool the old hens at the salon had going. My rebellious side kicked in and I had an instinctive urge to text him back and cancel, but I shook it off. Not seeing him just to spite them was ludicrous. He seemed okay if you set aside that whole suspecting-me-of-murder thing and I wanted to get to know him better. If nothing else, he didn't have any other friends in town and he was obviously having a rough time taking it all in.

  I walked back into the shop and made his coffee, then grabbed a couple of bear claws and tossed them in a bag. Raeann glanced at me curiously but I just smiled and signed “later” to her. We'd had a deaf friend in college and both of us had learned sign language. It's a good method of communication whether you can hear or not.

  She nodded and I rushed out the door and over to the courthouse, which was where the sheriff’s office was located.

  I couldn't help but admire the architecture of the courthouse. A sweeping white staircase ran across the front of the building, with the corners rounded off so the building was accessible from the sides without walking around to the front. Three stories high and almost half a block wide, it had been built back in the 1800s and was the oldest—and grandest—building in Keyhole Lake. The bricks were made from Georgia clay, and the towering white Greek columns lent an air of austerity to the building.

  I entered through the double doors and sighed in relief when the cool air hit me. My sneakers squeaked against the marble floors, and the sound echoed off the cathedral ceiling in the front hall. The town founders, who had designed the courthouse, had obviously intended for it to exude the spirit of justice and grace. I could only imagine how many times they'd spun in their graves in the twenty years Hank had held court there.

  I walked to the back of the building and into the section designated for law enforcement. Peggy Sue Dalton, a plump woman with watery blue eyes and dishwater-blond hair that was always piled into a bun, had worked as the receptionist at the sheriff’s office since God was a boy. I didn't know if she'd always been sour, or if working for Hank had made her that way.

  As always, she was at her desk, but for the first time since I'd known her, she smiled—actually, honest-to-god smiled—when I entered. She was even wearing a flowered dress instead of her usual drab navy ensemble and though her hair was still in a bun, there were a few tendrils framing her face.

  Well, then. I guess that answered that.

  "Good morning, Peggy Sue. How are you today?" I asked warily, in case it was a trap. The last time I'd been in there was to pay a speeding ticket, and she’d about flayed a layer of hide off me because I was a day late. She'd demanded to know how she was supposed to develop an accurate budget if "people like me" were always late.

  "I'm fantastic, Noelle. Better than I've been in years. Your hair looks great! How's Shelby? I sure was sorry to hear about Ms. Adelaide."

  Okay, now I was starting to wonder if I'd suddenly figured out the secret ingredient in Coralee's brownies, but everything else looked normal to me.

  I took a tentative step forward, as if she were some type of exotic animal that might eat me if I moved too fast. "I'm good, Peggy Sue. Shelby's doing as well as can be expected for a teenager, and thank you about Ms. Adelaide. She was a wonderful woman and we miss her."

  Addy hadn’t exactly had her ghostly comin’ out yet, so it wasn’t widely known that she wasn’t as gone as most folks thought. It made it tough to remember to discuss her in past tense, though.

  "She was, at that. What can I do for you today?"

  "I'm here to see Deputy Woods. He's expecting me."

  She grinned at me and waggled her eyebrows, which freaked me out more than a little. "He certainly is easy on the eyes, isn't he?" Her look turned speculative and she narrowed her eyes and grinned. "And he's about your age, too."

  I bit my tongue and forced a smile, wondering if she'd recently gotten her hair done. "Yeah, I guess he is. Is he in?"

  "Sure thing. Just let me buzz him."

  Once she announced me, it was only a minute or so before Hunter came out to greet me. We walked back out of the courthouse, down the staircase, and across the street to where the Junior League had sponsored a shady little park, complete with benches and a fountain.

  We chose to sit on the edge of the fountain, and I handed him his coffee. He glanced at the grease-stained bag a few times and I laughed. "Gee, Deputy. Would you care for a freshly baked bear claw?"

  He gave me a lopsided grin. "I thought you'd never ask. I can smell them from here and my mouth's watering. Yes, I would dearly love a freshly baked bear claw, please."

  I handed him one, then pulled out my own. "So,” I asked before I took a bite. “Hank blessing us with his death aside, what do you think of Keyhole Lake so far?"

  He took a swig of coffee to wash down a huge bite of pastry. "I don't know yet. Most of the people here seem decent, but sometimes it seems like people are just humoring me. Everybody’s been willing to talk to me, but they’re pros at answering a question without actually giving me any information. It’s frustrating. I've seen some strange things, too."

  I couldn't help but smile. One of the "strange things" he was probably referring to was hovering right behind him, eying the bear claws ravenously. Angus Small, our one and only town drunk—though that’s a rude way to put it—had died a few years ago when he passed out in the snow behind a yard Santa in the town square. The day after they found him dead, I was startled to see his ghostly self floating and shimmering in front of the courthouse, singing Christmas carols with the ladies’ auxiliary.

  He wanted to stick around Keyhole for some reason, even though I'd tried to convince him to go on at least a dozen times. Angus spent his time doing the same thing dead as he did when he was living—hanging out at the park. Only he didn't carry a tall boy in a little brown paper bag, now. He’d always been a prankster, and he was original. He'd do things like switch
neighbors' laundry. You might hang your sheets out in the morning and come home from work to find your next-door neighbor's fine washables handing in their stead.

  He had a good heart, though. At Christmas, he always volunteered to help hang Christmas lights in the square, and even showed up sober most of the time. He was also known to tack down loose steps or do other small jobs to help out the elderly or disabled in town. He never asked for a dime; he'd just notice it and fix it. If you ask me, he was the true spirit of community service, bottle and all.

  "Hey, Noelle!" He took a deep sniff of the bear claw in Hunter's hand. "I heard you was there when Hank cashed out. You okay?"

  Oddly enough, he was the first person who had asked me that. like I said, he was a good guy.

  I smiled and nodded, then looked pointedly at Hunter.

  Angus' eyes lit with comprehension. "Oh. Right. Maybe I'll pop out to the farm later. I haven't talked to Ms. Adelaide in a while, anyway. You take care, okay?"

  Before I could respond, he popped out of sight.

  Hunter noticed my attention had wandered and snapped his fingers. "Noelle?"

  I snapped my attention back to him. "Yeah. Sorry. I just zoned out for a minute." Since he seemed to be having a problem adjusting to basic communication skills, I figured now wasn’t the time to tell him Keyhole was one step away from having a “living status” field on our voter registration forms.

  I cleared my throat. "Anyway, back to the whole communication thing. You’re just going to have to ride it out and settle into things. We’re kind of clannish, but manners and honesty are important. So decent people feel obligated to be polite to you and tell you the truth, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to give you any real information. Men may be abrupt because they don’t want involved or they don’t respect you. So yeah. They’re kinda humoring you.” I shrugged and finished my coffee. “You’re a stranger with a badge. Around here, that’s two strikes."

  He scowled. “What’s so hard about answering a straight-up question with a straight-up answer?"

  I grinned. "As soon as people get to know you and trust you, you’re gonna regret ever wishing for that.”

  I glanced across the fountain and groaned. Olivia Anderson—the best friend of the cheerleader who stole Raeann's prom date and one of the most horrid creatures God ever stretched a hide over—was crossing toward us like a gargoyle on a mission. She'd been a bully as a kid and was an obnoxious snob as an adult.

  I nodded toward her. "You see that woman approaching us?"

  He looked in the direction I’d nodded. "Yeah."

  "Beware. Don't let the clothes and manicure fool you," I warned. "She's evil incarnate sent here to suck the joy and life from all living beings. If she had a brain, she'd be dangerous."

  I didn't have time to explain further because she was now within hearing distance. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders as she took the last couple of steps toward us. She was laser-focused on Hunter, but I stepped in front of him.

  "Olivia! It's been forever. I just love that dress—the cut takes fifteen pounds off of you!"

  Olivia narrowed her eyes but maintained her own sugary-sweet smile as her gaze bounced back and forth between me and Hunter, sizing up the situation. Loathing burned behind her eyes as she raked her gaze over my jean shorts and Bobbie Sue’s BBQ tank top. She looked like she'd smelled something bad. "Noelle. I see you're as ... you ... as ever." She turned her attention to Hunter and her expression changed to Hey, honey, I'm single and you're hot. "Who is this handsome gentleman with you?"

  I waved a bored hand toward her. "Deputy Woods, meet Olivia Anderson. She was a year ahead of me in school, at least until the fifth grade.” I smirked at her, but she ignored the jibe. “She was a little slow picking things up. Olivia, Hunter Woods."

  Smiling coyly at Hunter—gag—she stepped into his bubble and held out her fingertips for an insipid handshake, doing the whole Jackie-Kennedy stance at the same. "It's a pleasure, Deputy Woods."

  Hunter took the proffered fingers. "Please, call me Hunter. It's nice to meet you. Noelle and I were just enjoying the shade. Would you care to join us?"

  Ugh. He'd invited Satan to join the flock. Hadn’t he been listening?

  "I'd love to. I'm sure Noelle's done a fine job of bringing you coffee, because that's what she does for a livin', but I'd be happy to provide some company."

  I bet she would. I rolled my eyes at her smug expression.

  She followed us back to the shade and asked him endless questions about how he'd ended up in Keyhole Lake, blah, blah, blah. She hung on his every word. He realized his error within about two minutes and glanced at me, begging for a lifeline.

  “Isn’t that just something, about Hank?” she said. “Maybe if he'd been a better person, he wouldn't be dead right now."

  Hunter's raised a brow. "Is there something I should know?"

  "Oh," she said, seeming taken aback by his tone. “Well, since you're new around here, you probably didn't know Hank well. I'm on the Chamber of Commerce.”

  I rolled my eyes; there were a grand total of eight chamber members.

  “Hank wasn’t exactly popular with most people. I’m just sayin’ maybe his nastiness finally caught up with him.”

  Hunter’s expression remained neutral. “Unless you know something the coroner doesn’t know, Hank died of a heart attack.”

  “Maybe Olivia bored him to death talking,” I said.

  She glared at me, then steered the conversation back onto solid ground, but I lost track of what she was saying for a minute because Amos was standing beside her mimicking and then exaggerating everything she did, movement for movement. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. When he pretended to adjust his boobs, I had to cough.

  Amos winked at me, then zipped off to watch a carnival guy making balloon animals at the fair. I turned my attention back to what Olivia was saying. She was regaling him with stories about her Mary Kay business. Yawn. He looked like a man stuck in a burning building.

  "Well, Olivia," I said as she paused for a breath. "Thanks for sharing, really, but Hunter and I were just about to head over to the BBQ contest and I’d hate for you to be mistaken for one of the hogs. It's been a pleasure as always."

  She sucked in a breath through her nose and shot me a look that had turned lesser bitches to stone. I just grinned at her expectantly, waiting for her to either rush me or leave. I was okay with whichever direction she wanted to take it.

  She stood up and smiled at him, doing her best to ignore me.

  "It was a pleasure to meet you, Hunter,” she said with enough saccharin it’s a wonder her chemically-whitened teeth didn’t fall out. “If you need anything, or would like to have lunch that doesn't come out of a greasy paper bag, just let me know. I'm sure Noelle is busy, what with her waitressing job and mucking stalls and all."

  To my surprise, Hunter stepped closer to me. “Thanks, but Noelle’s great company. Unlike most people, she doesn’t seem to have an agenda.”

  The death beams she was firing at me as she turned on her heel made me smile. She was leaving, and I’d won again.

  I didn't typically do the whole catty thing, but she’d brought out the ugly in me since the second grade. I knew for a fact her toothy smile was fake because I’d chipped her real front tooth when I pushed her off the see-saw for stealing a juice box from a kindergartener.

  “I’m guessing you two have history?”

  "Oh yeah, we go way back. I’m the reason she needed both therapy and braces. Now, let's go see what booths are set up."

  He placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked around the fountain and I felt a little thrill. I glanced across the street to the salon and saw the curtains sway. Great. The buy-in probably just went up.

  Chapter 10

  Most of the vendors were open for business—there was everything from fresh-squeezed lemonade stands to a booth selling t-shirts in a rainbow of colors that had I pigged out at the Keyhole Lake BBQ
Blowout emblazoned across the front around the face of a smiling pig. Bobbie Sue's logo was screen-printed on the back. Ball caps, visors, and koozies were also available on tables inside the tent.

  Ellen Camp ran the booth every year and the only thing that ever changed about her products was the year. She lived by the mantra that if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Apparently she was on the right track, because there were already a dozen tourists perusing the goods and haggling for deals on multiple purchases.

  "Since this is your first year, you should get something," I told Hunter, nudging him in the ribs with my elbow.

  He shook his head and smiled wryly. "The dichotomy of a smiling pig advertising a BBQ contest is a bit much for me, still. Baby steps."

  Ms. Ellen glanced up from the cash register and beamed at us. "Well if it isn't our newest deputy. Pick yourself out a shirt. It's on the house!"

  Her face fell when he smiled but shook his head.

  "Thanks,” he said, “but I was just looking."

  I stepped up and told Ellen, "He was actually looking for a koozie."

  He shot me a look of utter confusion, but I nudged him forward.

  Her face lit up, and she hustled him over to the koozie table. "Pick any color you want!"

  He chose an electric blue one and thanked her before leaving the tent. When we were far enough away, he asked, "What was that? It was nice of her to offer, but I really didn't want anything."

  I shook my head. "It doesn't matter if you wanted it or not. When somebody offers you something, the polite thing to do is accept."

  He sighed. "I'm never going to get the hang of this."

  "Sure you will. It's kind of a no-brainer. If somebody offers you something like that, it's a gesture of goodwill; sort of like holding out a hand to shake. It’s rude to say no. Take it and say thank you. The one piece of advice I should probably give you is that any liquid in a glass jar should be handled with care. Unless you trust the source, don’t drink it. Take it because it’s a big deal for somebody to share their hooch with you, but dump it down the drain. Some of the shine around here will literally kill you, especially if you’re not used to it. Even if it doesn’t kill you, it’ll make you wish you were dead the next day.”