by Tegan Maher
"Well, at least you said if instead of when."
"Rest assured, I was being optimistic," she said, sounding exhausted. "Make no mistake, something's gonna go sideways. The only questions are when, where, and how big is it going to be. And to tell you the truth, I think we already have the answer to the last part. It's gonna be ugly. These witches aren't green kids—they were seasoned, powerful witches. Some of them were hundreds of years old. I'm not sure how this ... being ... got past their defenses to kill them, but rest assured—they didn't do it to make some sort of small power move."
"I know. And I also can't help but feel like my family is somehow in the middle of it," I said, getting back up to take the ball out of my tea. I drizzled in some honey and took it back to the table. "That may just be because I'm out of sorts, but I'm not gonna chance it, especially now that you had a feeling about us. I'll beef up the wards before I go to bed tonight."
"And tell the kids to stay together. I don't want them alone until we know what we're dealing with," she said.
Shelby and Emma were both sitting close enough that they heard, and nodded.
"They're right here, and they heard," I told Camille.
"I'll be with them too," Cody said. "I'm not any use on the magical front, but I can keep an eye out. If nothing else, I can watch their backs."
Shelby laid her hand over his and smiled. "And that means the world. With the three of us, we won't be caught unaware."
I didn't like the bravado I heard there. "I'd prefer you not get caught at all. Stay in populated places, and I want you home by dark."
She scowled at me.
"Put me on speaker, Noelle," Camille said, and I did.
"Okay, you're on."
"Young ladies, this is nothing to take lightly. You're both strong and capable, but you're not experienced and you wouldn't know a real hex until you were incapacitated. Or dead. I expect you to listen to Noelle, be back to the farm by dark, and do whatever else she says, or neither of you will like me when I get home."
Emma cringed a little. Camille was a stickler for the rules, and she didn't hesitate to ground Emma to the ends of the Earth and back if she didn't listen. Of course, being Camille's daughter came with it's own set of risks, and Emma was old enough now that she understood that.
"Yes, ma'am," she said, and elbowed Shelby, who then echoed her.
"And Noelle?"
"Yeah, Camille?"
"If you turn your phone off again, I'll come down there and beat you to death myself. You almost gave me heart failure."
"Got it." The last thing anybody wanted, whether they knew it or not, was to be on Camille's bad side. And I was smart enough to respect that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I WAS PLEASANTLY SURPRISED when I woke up the next morning before my alarm even went off, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day. I'd been so worried about having the nightmare again that I hadn't fallen asleep until after midnight. I'd worried for nothing though. Either the dream was a fluke or the charms and extra mental security worked. I was glad no matter what the reason.
Hunter and I had agreed to meet at the courthouse at nine. He wanted to interview Jenny Jacobs before the convention was over in case something new came to light that incriminated Leighann or Delilah, but he also wanted to give Peggy Sue the new information and see what she could track down. Finding info was her superpower, but even she needed a few hours' head start.
Since I was already up, I figured I'd take a quick shower, stop at Brew for coffee, then pop in and see how Coralee was doing. The woman was made of steel, it seemed, but she had to be worried sick. I wanted to let her know what we'd found and see if she'd heard anything that may be useful. There was a definite benefit of being the CEO of the local information dissemination center, as she liked to refer to her shop. Even though gossip was often exaggerated, there was nearly always a kernel of truth in there somewhere. The trick was to separate fact from fiction, and Coralee was a pro. Not quite so good as Belle, but to be fair, Belle had a solid fifty years of experience on her. Besides, they were a team.
While I was at Brew4U, I whipped up Coralee's favorite caramel latte and made Alyss her go-to chocolate caramel frapuccino. The girl drank the frozen deliciousness no matter what the temperature was. The good thing about that was I didn't have to worry about it melting until I got it to her. The temperatures were warming up though, and between the slightly balmier weather, the good night's sleep, and the sunshine, I was feeling good about the day.
"Hey," I said, pushing the door to the shop open with my butt. Alyse rushed forward and took the extra cups from my hands. I'd grabbed some pastries, too, both for them and for Peggy Sue. The clerk had done me a couple of life-changing good turns, and her only request was that I keep her in pastries. As far as I was concerned, I could take her goodies every day for the rest of her life, and it wouldn't be enough.
At first blush, Coralee didn't look any different than she had for the last ten years, but when I took a closer look, I could tell she'd had a tough time covering up the bags under her eyes, and her hair wasn't quite as big as it usually was. She looked exhausted.
I gave her a quick hug.
"Hey sugar," she said, giving a half-hearted hug in return. "It's good to see you. Have you had any luck?"
"Actually," I replied, stepping away from her and peeling off my coat, "I have. Or maybe we have, at least." I gave her the 411 on what we'd found, and she looked thoughtful.
"So that's all well and good, but how are you gonna prove any of it? I mean, right now, I'm still the one that looks the worst if for no other reason than where she was found."
I sighed. That was still the biggest sticking point, but I was doing my best to find a way around it. I said as much.
"So this morning we're going to talk to Jenny Jacobs," I said. "She's one of the people Loretta sued into the poorhouse. The one who owned the restaurant with the fajitas."
"Oh yeah," Anna Mae said. "I didn't know she lived around here. I thought that happened up around Atlanta."
"It did," I replied, taking a seat in her barber chair, "but apparently she's from here and had to move back when she lost everything."
She crinkled her forehead, thinking. "I don't know any Jenny Jacobs," she said.
"What about Genevieve Ball?" I asked, and recognition dawned.
"Not only do I know her, I also know she couldn't stand Loretta. That goes way back to school days."
"Wait, you went to school with her, too?"
Coralee nodded. "Sure did. As a matter of fact, we got along fairly well—had an English class with ole man Tucker together." Her eyes took on a far away look. "Man, could the old codger make a paper look like it was bleedin' to death with that red pen of his." She shook her head and returned to the topic at hand. "She never went by Jenny though. She shucked out of here right after high school, and I never heard from her again."
"Well," I said, "Now you know. Did she ever have a problem with Loretta?"
Coralee snorted. "She sure did. She beat Loretta out for homecoming queen and prom queen our senior year. Loretta was fit to be tied because she thought she'd had it in the bag. Genevieve ran more as a lark than with any intention of actually winning it, but win she did. Both times. Honestly, I think she ran the second time just to spite Loretta."
"Why did it matter to her what Loretta thought?" Alyse asked. "Is Genevieve just the type who does stuff like that for kicks?"
"Oh no," Coralee said, shaking her head. "Loretta gave her a hard time clear through high school because she was poor, though the real reason was because everybody loved Genvieve. She was a sweetheart. Wouldn't hurt a fly and went out of her way to be nice to people. Humble. A beautiful girl, though."
Belle nodded so hard her beehive hairdo wobbled a little. "That's the truth. Inside and out—she moved back in with her folks a few months back when they got too frail to take care of themselves."
"Well," I said, "that beautiful girl might just be the person who'
s trying to send you up the river for life, so you may want to reserve opinion for a day or two until everything shakes out."
Her eyes looked hopeful. "You think this is all gonna be over in a day or two?"
"I sure hope so," I said. "What with the judge, and the conference ending today, we have to catch a break by this afternoon, and I know we will. I don't know how, but we will—I feel it in my bones."
I stopped chewing on my lip and smiled when I realized she was looking at me. I didn't want her to know that wasn't sure at all we were going to be able to solve this in time to keep her out of jail.
What I did know, though, was that I'd give it my best go. It was the least I could do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WE CHATTED FOR A FEW more minutes, then I pulled my coat back on and tromped out the door, Peggy Sue's pastries in one hand and my half-full coffee in the other. Every time I looked at our courthouse, I was amazed all over again at the grandeur of it. It was a pre-civil war building, and the marble in the lobby had been shipped there. It had withstood the civil war, and many other, smaller wars in it's courts—or hallways—since then. It didn't matter how much else of Keyhole Lake had changed since then, because this building hadn't. Well, other than to modernize it with electricity and running water, anyway.
I hustled to the back of the building to where the sheriff's office was located, then smiled when Peggy Sue looked up at me over her readers. Her watery blue eyes twinkled when she realized it was me, and her gaze shifted to the bag in my hand. She smiled and gave me a sly gaze. "Please tell me that's my bag."
I held it out, smiling. "It absolutely is. Mixed berry turnovers, orange-cranberry muffins, and a ham salad sandwich. There. Breakfast and lunch are both on me today."
"You're such a good girl," she said. "Your Aunt Addy would be so proud."
Paggy Sue was in the majority of Keyhole Lake residents who had no idea we had such an active post-life community. Or any post-life community at all for that matter. Sometimes it was hard for me to remember that. I creased my face into the appropriate pained smile and thanked her. Sometimes I really hated keeping secrets, but that one wasn't mine to tell. When and if the time ever came for Peggy Sue to know, that would be up to the ghosts.
"Enough of the mushy stuff," she said, brushing one of the whimsical curls she'd taken to wearing away from her face. "That man of yours is in the back, and I'm sure he can't wait to see you. Besides, he's got me on a mission, and I need to get back to it."
I gave her a real smile this time and made my way around her desk and down the hallway toward Hunter's office. His door was ajar, so I pecked on it and poked my head in.
"Hey, sweetie," he said, standing to give me a quick peck. "Did you sleep well?" Concern shone from his eyes, and for about the millionth time, I thanked my lucky stars for sending him my way.
"I did, actually." I don't know if it was sheer exhaustion, luck, or the extra wards and crystals, but I slept like a baby and feel fantastic. Oh, and I have news. I stopped at Coralee's on my way here and picked up something interesting."
"Do tell, then," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Every time you've ever come here during a case and said that, it's led to some sort of breakthrough. Hit me with it."
I did, and he whistled. "Wow. That's probably the best intel you've ever brought." He pressed his lips together as he turned the new information over in his head. "The only problem, again, is that we don't have any evidence."
"Haven't you gotten anything back from the lab yet? Maybe there's something in there that would help tie them in."
He shook his head. "Jim's been out on a legit case this week and hasn't been able to do the work himself. We're stuck waiting in the same line everybody else is."
Jim was a local guy who worked at the state crime lab in Atlanta. Usually, he managed to get our stuff turned around quickly, but on the rare occasion when cases here collided with what he was doing up there, his official job had to take precedence.
"Well then," I said, "Let's go talk to Miss Jenny. See what she has to say for herself."
He locked his office, and we told Peggy Sue goodbye on our way past. She held up a finger. "Hang on just a second," she said. "I think I found something."
She tapped in a few words on her keyboard, and her face lit up. "Two months ago, Loretta filed for a restraining order. Either of you two care to venture a guess?"
"Well," I said, "I know it wasn't Coralee."
"Nope," she said. "It sure wasn't. It was one Leighann Cooly. Apparently, security caught her in the parking garage her firm shares with several other downtown businesses, including the agency Loretta worked for. She'd already slashed one of Loretta's tires and was about to do the second when security busted her. And guess what she was using?"
"No way!" I said, glancing up at Hunter to see if he'd caught on. From the look on his face, he had.
"Barber's scissors," he said. "Please say barber's scissors."
"Give the sheriff a cookie for getting it in one!" she said, but made a point to pull her bag of goodies a little closer to her.
"Then it looks like we have an arrest to make," he said.
I put a hand on his arm. "I think we should still go talk to Jenny. All the circumstantial evidence we have on her is still accurate, no matter what we've found out about any of the other suspects. It's a big leap to go from slashing somebody's tires to slashing that person. We can't afford to get tunnel vision now, and she said yesterday she wasn't leaving until this afternoon. We have plenty of time."
"You're right," he said. "But we don't even know for a fact Jenny Jacobs is living out there with her parents. That's just a shot in the dark."
"A shot we can't afford to miss, though," I said, and he nodded once in agreement as we left the sheriff's office and made our way out the back door to his truck. My stomach rumbled and I wished I taken the time to eat while I had a chance. Chasing down murder suspects sure did work up an appetite.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE DRIVE TO THE BALLS' farm took the better part of a half hour. Cody hadn't been exaggerating when he said they lived way out in the country.
We chatted about anything other than murder on the way there, and I figured he was doing the same thing I was—letting the information simmer in the back of his mind, hoping it would pick out something we'd missed.
Finally, he clicked on his left blinker and turned onto a winding drive similar to the one we had at the farm. Unlike my farm, though, the pastures were overgrown with weeds and the fences were in disrepair, patched in several places with pieces of weathered scrap lumber. It would do the trick, and it wasn't unsafe; it just wasn't pretty. Four horses stood around a round bale of hay, munching and swishing their tails.
Despite the condition of their surroundings, they were in good shape. The Balls obviously lacked either the money or the willingness to make it look nice, but they did take care of their animals.
The front yard was just a patch of dirt turned to mud and the front porch of the farm house sagged. Faded curtains hung in the windows, and rose bushes grew so wild and tall they were taking over the porch. All in all, it was a sad rendition of a place that could have been gorgeous. Most of it could have been gussied up with a little elbow grease. My knee-jerk reaction was that it was shameful they'd let the place go to pot, but when a stooped woman with rheumy eyes answered the door, I amended that.
"Mrs. Ball?" Hunter asked, his voice kind.
"Yes, Sheriff?" she asked in a brittle voice, pulling her faded pink housecoat a little tighter around her.
"We're here to talk to Genevieve. Is she around?"
"She is," she replied, squinting at us through wire-rimmed spectacles, "but would you mind tellin' me what your business with her is?"
Hunter shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to get a glimpse behind her. In cases like this, it wouldn't have been much of a shocker for the mister of the house to have been standing just out of sight with a double-barrel aimed right at
the door.
"We just have a few questions for her about a woman she had a run-in with."
Mrs. Ball furrowed her brow. "Genevieve? You must be mistaken. Our girl ain't got a mean bone in her body, and she don't have run-ins. Truth be told, it's her one fault. She needs a tad more sass."
"Be that as it may, Mrs. Ball, we need to speak with her if you please."
She grumbled a little. "I don't please, but I reckon you're gonna stand on my porch all day if I don't fetch her, so you may as well do it and be done with it."
Hunter released a breath as she swung the door a little wider.
"Come on in," she said, turning away from the door and shuffling inside, her slippers making a scuffing sound as she did. "Ain't no use leavin' you on the porch to catch your death. And we ain't got the extra wood to heat the outside, either."
The inside of the house was in better shape than the outside, though the decor was about twenty years behind the times. Doilies graced the top of every surface, and there were so many knick-knacks I could take them all in. The faint smell of burning wood hung in the air, giving the place a warm, cozy feel.
"Mama? Who is it?" a pleasant voice called from upstairs.
"It's the sheriff and some woman, here to talk to you about somethin' or other," she called back. "They're in the sittin' room."
The woman came straight down, an open expression of curiosity, and that trace of wariness that always accompanies an unexpected visit from the law. "Deputy," she said, inclining her head in greeting. "What can I do for you?" she glanced at me, but kept her attention directed at Hunter.
"Sheriff, actually," Hunter replied. "I'm hear to ask you about Loretta Higgins."
Her face clouded over, and bitterness replaced the curiosity, deepening the first traces of wrinkles around her eyes. "What does she want now? She already ruined me—I can't imagine what else she thinks she can take."
"Actually, ma'am, she was murdered a few days ago, and her body was found behind the Clip N Curl."