Murder and Marinade: Witches of Keyhole Lake Mysteries Book 5

by Tegan Maher

  "Ah, is that his name?" Stella asked. "We been callin' him Red for lack of anythin' else."

  "Ranger's the name he came with when we adopted him," Shelby said.

  "Adopted?" Harry asked.

  "Yeah," I replied. "We got him a little over a year ago. He was a rack of bones and his feet were so bad he was almost crippled. Head-shy, and you couldn't pick up his feet. Scared to death of a saddle. It was sad. And I haven't had the time to do much more than fatten him up and get him healthy."

  "Thing with horses like that," Harry said, "is you gotta convince ’em it's their idea, and just give ’em time. To answer your question, we went out Saturday night and he was grazin' in our side pasture. We bought what you probly know as the old Svensen farm a few months back. Course ain't nothin' now but a house and ten acres. Still got the barn, though it needs some work."

  "Anyway," Stella said, rubbing my little mare's nose when she poked her head over her stall, "we tried to catch him, but he wasn't havin' none of it. So we just pulled the gate shut and left him in there. Then we started askin' around, and the lady at the grocery store said he was likely yours."

  "Wait, the Svensen farm?" I remembered the place from when I was a kid. "That's three or four miles from here!"

  Harry dipped his head. "It is. I was surprised when folks said to check here, and I found out how far away you were." He chuckled. "No explainin', cuz he ain't talkin'."

  I smiled. "No, he's not." I shifted my weight as I noted it was almost fully dark. "I can hook the trailer up and come take him off your hands now."

  He held up a hand. "No rush. If you wanna wait ’til tomorrow, that's fine." He gave me a half-smile. "It's nice lookin' out and seein' a horse in the field again. And the pasture needs mowin'."

  I glanced at Gabi and Shelby, who shrugged.

  "If you're sure it's no hassle."

  "No hassle at all," Stella said, motioning to Harry. "He spent the day yesterday playin' with him and stayed outta my hair so I could get some quiltin' done. I should pay you a babysitter fee." She smiled and looked at him, a tender smile that comes from a bond built from many years of goin' through the ups and downs together.

  "’Sides," he said, "the way our place is situated, you'll have an easier time navigatin' your rig in the daytime."

  "All right then. Tomorrow it is." They stayed for some dessert—I'd brought home a death-by-chocolate cake one of the women at the party had given us, and he told us stories about his time spent exercising Thoroughbreds.

  Before they left, we exchanged numbers—in pen—and I told him I'd give him a call the next afternoon.

  It was a nice evening, and one I was grateful for when everything hit the fan over the next couple days.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I SPENT HALF THE NIGHT baking pastries because Rae had gone through most of what I'd made up before I left and I needed to take her a batch so she'd have something for the following day. When she'd first opened Brew4U, we'd both been straight out of college and broke. It only seemed logical to pair my pastries with her coffees.

  She's a Flynn witch too, but is an ace herbalist, a skill I was inept in at best. Rae used her magic to make special blends, much like most coffee houses do. She had ones for just about anything—energy, happiness, headaches, anxiety, even memory. She advertised them on a board just like any other coffee place did; the only difference is that hers worked much better than most.

  As I settled into the rhythm of kneeding and stirring and rolling, the magic flowed through me, soothing the tension of the last few days away.

  Though I didn't fall into bed until almost two, I was exhausted but happy. I lost a lot of the happy when my alarm went off three hours later. Rae opened at six, and in addition to wanting to get the pastries to her, I just wanted to see her. I'd missed her.

  I stumbled toward the bathroom, about killing myself when tripped over my shoes, and rushed through getting ready. Twenty minutes later, I was headed toward town with several boxes of muffins, turnovers, and cinnamon rolls, craving a triple dose of her Lively Latte.

  It only took me fifteen minutes or so to get there, so we still had almost half an hour before opening time, especially since it was Tuesday. Of course, being the early bird that she was, Rae was already there.

  She musta heard me pull up because as soon as I walked in the door, she took the boxes from me and shoved a cup of coffee into my hands. I took a huge whiff of it and the magical scent of coffee and chocolate and whipped cream—the real stuff—swirled through my brain. I felt more awake already.

  She was smiling but keeping her distance; we were total opposites when it came to the whole early-morning thing. She hit the floor smiling and chipper no matter what time it was, and I didn't do smiling or chipper regardless of what time it was until I’d had my coffee.

  I was kinda nice doing this though, and my morning grumps passed faster than usual. Rae and I used to open up together a few times a week back when she couldn't afford help and I couldn't afford not to work two jobs. Now we did it mostly just to give her staff a day off.

  She flipped the lid of top pastry box open an pulled out two mixed-berry turnovers and floated one to me. As it settled in front of me, she took a big bite of hers. "Ohmuhgosh," she said around a mouthful. "We ran out of these Saturday, and I didn't eat any the whole time you were gone cause they're the biggest sellers. Man, I'm glad you're home, sweetie!"

  I pulled off the corner of mine and popped it in my mouth, savoring the pastry as it melted on my tongue. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you only love me for my pastries," I said, chasing the deliciousness with a drink of chocolatey caffeine.

  "Both," she said. "Now, tell me all about how you managed to trip into another murder. I swear, girl, you've had a year."

  "Tell me about it. This one had nothin' to do with me, though. I just happened to be there." I twirled my finger and the pastries shuffled themselves into the pie case up front while I gave her the Readers Digest version of the situation.

  "But do they really think Earl coulda done it?"

  Shrugging, I said, "I don't know. The sheriff over there seems fair, but when he called Hunter on our way home, he asked him to keep an eye on Earl and make sure he doesn't leave town."

  She hmphed. "Like he's goin' anywhere. 'Tween the restaurant and the family, he's about as likely to leave as the lake is. What about this Gregoria Stanton?"

  I shook my head. "I don't know. There's somethin' squirrely about her for sure. I'd love to know what the connection is between her and Al Cassidy. There has to be one; you should have seen the way they were interacting. They didn't look like strangers to me."

  "And what about all this recipe-sellin' stuff?" She popped the last bite of turnover into her mouth and folded her napkin.

  "That's trippin' everything up a little. Nobody knows for sure what to make of it, except everybody's certain it was Moore sellin' ’em. Rumor has it he took bribes, too. Except he didn't always follow through. Sometimes he took the money and didn't rig the competition."

  "Wow," she said. "The guy was askin' for somebody to make him dead. That just ain't done. Even on the wrong side, a deal's a deal."

  "Yeah, and they couldn't even complain to anybody."

  I glanced at the clock: it was six. I flicked the front sign to open and turned on the lights. Just as I suspected, nobody was waiting. You wouldn't think that would be surprising, but there was usually at least one or two regulars who liked their special blends waiting. Rae's coffee was just that good.

  The floodgates opened twenty minutes later though, and we were swamped most of the morning. I fielded about a million variations of what happened at the competition, and I realized that explained the unusual Tuesday traffic—people wanted the first-hand scoop.

  Rae smiled and winked at me as Mrs. Shoemacher, a little blue-hair, just asked me straight up if they thought Earl "up and killed that recipe-thievin' crook that called himself a judge." Folks in our parts were loyal to him, and I had no doub
t anybody who said that in front of her risked a solid poke with the umbrella she carried, rain or shine.

  By the time two rolled around, I was whipped and still had to go get Ranger. I texted Shelby to see if she wanted to go with me. She was still in school, but was just about out and said she and Cody would meet me at the farm.

  I finished cleaning and restocking so the majority of the work would be done when she closed at four then headed home. The kids were waiting for me when I got there and we had the trailer hitched in no time. Had it been any other horse, I would have been tempted to toss a saddle in the back of the truck and ride him home, but it was Ranger. That wasn't an option.

  I almost passed their driveway, and would have if they hadn't warned me. Shelby had, not just once but three times, she said. It was a sharp curve and I barely had room to make the swing, then had to go slow because it was steep.

  "Holy cow," Shelby said as we pulled down the drive. "I wonder if the whole place is overgrown like this?"

  She got her answer in just a few feet when the foliage opened up and several acres of cleared and fenced land dotted with big oaks and maples sprawled before us. The place was nice, but in desperate need of some upkeep. I could see where somebody had replaced fence panels, and there was a big pile of brush in a clearing waiting, I suspected, to be turned into a bonfire.

  We pulled up in front of an old barn. It had seen better days, but looked to be structurally sound. Most of the problems were simple, such as broken latches and peeling paint.

  Harry was already in the pasture messin' with Ranger. He was kneeling down, and the horse was watching him with a leery eye while he grazed. The curiosity was killing him, though, and he wandered over to Harry. I about fell out of the truck when he stood up slowly and patted him on the muzzle, then slid his hand up to the halter.

  The Ranger I knew would have bolted the minute he reached his hand out to catch him—I'd learned the hard way.

  When we hopped out of the truck, he raised his hand to us, smiling, and clucked to Ranger to follow him. Like it was just natural as sunshine, the big red horse dropped his head and plodded along beside the old man. It was almost something out of a painting.

  Stella poked her head out the screen door on the side of the house. "Hey y'all! Would you like some tea? Or I just made some fresh lemonade."

  "That'd be great Stella," I said. "Lemonade for me."

  "Come on inside before you load the horse up, then. Too hot outside already to be sittin' on the porch with no shade."

  She was right. My shirt was starting to stick to me. Without a doubt, spring was about to leave us in the dust and summer was ready to settle over us in all its humid glory. The side door led straight into the kitchen and, though there was a strawberry pie sitting on the stove, the overhead fan was blowing cool air.

  I introduced Cody, then we moved to the kitchen table.

  "So," I said as we settled in after Stella poured us a drink and joined us. "It seems Ranger's taken a shine to you, Harry." I glanced at Shelby to see if her train of thought was in the same station as mine. She gave me a half-smile and nodded her head. This was such a no-brainer, we didn't even need to use our mental link.

  "I don't know so much about that, but he's a good horse under it all. He just ain't got faith in people. Somebody's mishandled him bad, but he just needs some time. He'll come around."

  I cleared my throat and Shelby nodded, supporting me. "The problem is, we don't have time to mess with him. I feel bad, but Shelby works and goes to school, and I'm just a few months into starting a new business."

  Harry nodded. "I remember those days. You got a million things you want to do, but the things you have to do just don't allow for it."

  "Yeah," Shelby said, "but that's not fair to Ranger. It's not like he's old and ready to put out to pasture. He's got a lotta good years left in him, and he shouldn't go through life scared of people. He needs worked to keep him healthy, and he needs somebody to love on him."

  Cody was smiling. He hadn't picked up the look between Shel and I earlier, but I could see his mind was turnin' in the right direction.

  Harry considered for a minute. "If you don't mind, I'd love to come up and work with him, and mess with any of the other horses you want. It's not like I have much to do with my time other than pester poor Stella here to distraction."

  "I was thinkin' more along the lines of you just keepin' him here," I said, watching his face for a reaction. I was 99 percent sure it was something he'd want, but I didn't know all the circumstances and didn't want to push him into it if he didn't want to or couldn't.

  He kept his eyes on his tea glass, and wiped a condensation drip off the side, then his eyes became watery. "Do you mean, like permanent, or just ’til I get him trained up again?"

  "Oh, no," I rushed to assure him, "we mean for good. I've already got six others that don't always get the exercise they need. I think I've done what I was supposed to do—put some meat on him and got him healthy again. Now I think it's time for him to go to somebody who has the time he needs to bring him back the rest of the way."

  He pulled a faded blue bandana out of his shirt pocket and dabbed at his eyes. I looked away, pretending not to notice.

  The silence stretched until Stella finally spoke up. "Yes!" she said, "he'd love to have him!" She reached across the table and put her hand on his. "Wouldn't you, honey?"

  He nodded his head, emphatic. "Yes. Yes I would. He'll have a good home here."

  I grinned. "If we didn't know that for a fact, we wouldn't have offered, right Shel?"

  She beamed. "Nope. And to be honest, it's a weight off my chest, 'cause when we got him, I swore I'd help bring him along and it breaks my heart every time I bring him in or turn him out that I haven't."

  Stella smiled at all of us. "See, honey, I told you things happen for a reason. It wasn't no accident he wandered three miles into our pasture; he was just comin' home."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  WHEN SHE PUT IT THAT way, I teared up. We made arrangements for him to come and grab a saddle and some gear, and told them both they were welcome at the farm any time they wanted to stop by for a visit. I made a mental note to invite them to our next cookout.

  He was right about it being tricky to maneuver the trailer, but I managed to get turned around, and the last I saw in the rearview, Stella was wavin' and Harry was heading out to the pasture to play with his new horse.

  "Y'all did a good thing, there," Cody said. "I'm proud of both of you. Though I have to say, if you knew you were going to do it, why bring the trailer?"

  "I didn't know," I said. "It just popped into my head when I saw him squattin' there in the grass, patient as can be, just waitin' for Ranger to come to him."

  Shelby laughed. "I think we're gonna have to get used to callin' him Red now. I think it's already stuck."

  "I can live with that," I said, smiling. "Ranger wasn't a name I was particularly stuck on anyway. At least not near as much as I'm attached to the idea of him havin' a home with somebody who'll take care of him like he deserves."

  My butt was dragging by the time we got home. That three hours of sleep seemed long ago and far away, so I decided on a power nap until Hunter got off work. He and Rae were coming over that evening, and I groaned when I realized I hadn't told either her or Shelby about the whole slowing-time thing.

  Shelby volunteered to feed even though it was my turn, and I was surprised again by how much she'd matured since her Christmas incident. She'd always been a good kid, but we'd coddled her and she'd grown spoiled. Her lesson had been hard-learned, but she'd learned it, and gotten a magical mark from an angel on top of it. We still weren't sure what that meant, but she did put a serious magical beat-down on somebody who'd tried to kill me a few months earlier.

  Now we'd added a new element with the time thing, and I got the feeling that we needed to know what it all meant.

  I shuffled to my room, and all of those worries disappeared into the ether as soon as my head
hit the pillow.

  The next thing I knew, Hunter was rubbing my back and telling me to wake up. It was still daylight out, so I couldn't have slept more than an hour, but my head was fuzzy from sleepin' like the dead.

  "What time is it?" I asked.

  "About six. I would have let you sleep, but if you don't get up now, you'll never sleep tonight."

  The smell of pizza wafted to me. "Tell me you brought Duck's."

  He smiled. "Of course I did. Where else would I get pizza? Rae's here, too."

  Duck's was the best pizza parlor in town. He used a brick oven and the combination of crisp crust and real cheese was heaven. Throw on some ham, mushrooms, and pineapple, and you had the best pizza I'd ever eaten.

  Rae was setting out paper plates when I floated down the stairs led by my nose. Just for clarification, I wasn't really floating, though if I ever developed the ability to fly, it would be the best gift ever. I'd have to join a gym at that point.

  Shelby and Cody had gone to a movie, so it was just the three of us, and I thought it was a good time to tell her about the whole time thing. After pouring Rae and I a glass of wine and grabbing a beer for Hunter, I slid into my chair and pulled a slice of pizza from the box. They did the same.

  "I did some checkin' on some things this afternoon," Rae said.

  "What kind of things?" I took a huge bite of pizza, getting a slice of ham, mushroom, and pineapple all at once.

  "I was thinking about what we talked about this morning—how you said this Gregoria Stanton had to be connected to them somehow—so I started to do some diggin'." She paused to take a bite of the pizza before it got cold.

  Hunter swallowed. "I thought the same thing. I tried to find some sort of connection between the two men, but all I can see is the same thing Blane sees—the recipes. Right now, it seems that the only thing they have in common is they both must have bought recipes from the forum, aka, the judge. And we can't even prove that.