Hook, Line, and Murder

by Tegan Maher

  "What's a perfect question for Cody?" Shelby said from behind me, making me jump. I'd been so lost in the peace, I hadn't even heard the screen door slap shut when she left the house.

  "Whether or not we can change the channels for Erol from our phones if we're not there," I said.

  "Oh," she said, plopping down and grabbing a cracker and a piece of cheese. "No clue. Ask Cody. He'll be here any minute."

  "That's a brilliant idea," I said, crossing my eyes at her. She crossed hers back and stuck out her tongue.

  Cheri Lynn faded in, her face troubled.

  "Hey Cheri," Shelby said. "Why the long face?"

  The pretty ghost pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. "I don't know if Rupert and I are a good fit," she said.

  They'd been getting along just fine since they'd met on a cruise several months before. "What makes you think that?" I asked.

  She took a deep breath, then released it. "I don't know. I think we just have different interests."

  "Such as?" Gabi said.

  "Such as he just wanted to play poker the whole time we were in Hawaii, and I was stuck either watching him or drinking at the tiki bar by myself."

  "Hashtag firstworldghostproblems," Shelby said, and Cheri Lynn rolled her eyes.

  "I mean it," Cheri said, crossing her arms. "I think he's losing interest in me."

  As I believe I've already said, Cheri Lynn was the total package. Looks, intelligence, loyalty, kindness, and plenty of sass, but the good kind.

  Hunter glanced up from the wheels he was polishing and vocalized exactly what I was thinking. "I highly doubt that, Cheri. You're pretty, smart, and have a great personality. And you've got spunk. Have you talked to him?"

  "No," she said. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

  Rupert was the first real relationship Cheri Lynn had ever been in, living or dead. Her life had been filled with losers and users, and I hated to see this go south on her.

  "Talk to him. Honestly, I think maybe you're just spending too much time together. Do different things. We hardly ever see you anymore, and his friends must feel the same. It's healthy to have your own life."

  She considered it. "That's true," she said. "I haven't been to a post-life town meeting in a couple months, and I love those. I don't even know if we've approved any new non-living-impaired folks or not. Thanks, Noelle!"

  And with that, she was gone.

  Apparently, love didn't get any easier even after you were dead.

  Max came trotting over alongside Matt.

  "Hey, Matt," Shelby said, not looking up from the silver she was shining on Gabi's bridle. "Where's Anna Mae?"

  "She had to go run some errands, so I dropped her off at her place."

  Max poked his nose over the edge of the table and sniffed.

  "Want a sandwich?" I asked. PB&J was one of his favorites.

  He shook his head and flopped down, his eyes already slipping closed. "No thank you. I'm not really hungry."

  I stopped chewing my cracker and stared at him. Never in all of the years that I'd known him had those words passed his lips in that particular order.

  Shelby had about the same reaction. "Say what, now?" she asked.

  "We just had lunch at my place," Matt hurried to say.

  "Really?" I said, my thoughts flipping back to earlier. "What did you have?"

  "Pickles," Max said at the same time Matt said, "A baloney sandwich."

  "He had pickles, and I had a sandwich," Matt clarified.

  Shelby glanced between them. "Oh, I believe there was baloney involved, but I don't know if it was between two slices of bread."

  "Hunter, are you still planning to change the oil this afternoon?" Matt asked.

  "Yeah," Hunter said. "As a matter of fact, let's go do that now."

  "I'll meet you there." Matt pivoted and strode toward the garage.

  "What are you up to, little donkey?" Shelby asked, narrowing her eyes.

  "Taking a nap," he muttered.

  "I meant a little bit ago."

  He cracked one eye open. "I was doing exactly what I said I was doing. Having lunch."

  "There's a reason they use mules as an example of stubbornness," I said.

  "Good thing I'm not a mule, then," he said, closing his eye and dozing off.

  Whatever it is they were up to, I wasn't going to get it out of him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  RIGHT AS A BLOP OF jelly fell down my front, my phone rang. Of course. Swiping it off with one hand, I answered with the other.

  "Hey TJ," I said, wishing I'd brought paper towels out. "How are you doing? Any progress on Ruth?"

  "I'm all right. Still a little weirded out, but I guess there's not much I can do about it. Moira and I have been searching county archives and obits for drowning deaths but haven't had any luck," she said. "It doesn't make much sense, because there's only been five drownings here in the last five years—three were men, and two were young women."

  "Huh." I held my finger out and let Wiz, who'd become my best friend the minute he smelled the food, lick it off, then wiped the remainder on my jeans. "I wonder if she's from Keyhole County instead."

  "Nope." I could hear the frustration in her voice. "You've had more drownings because of the lake, but nobody matches her description."

  "Well, crap. Have you talked to her?"

  "Yeah, and the girls are bringing her to the cookout Tuesday, so maybe something will jog her memory. That's actually what we were calling about. What do you think Anna Mae would like for her birthday?"

  "Oh, lord," I said. "That seems to be the question of the day. I'm horrible at gifts. I'm probably just going to get her a gift card or do a spa day with her."

  "Ooh, that's a great idea! We have the best day spa over here. Facials, massages, the works. If you want, we're in, too."

  "Sure. You know what else she's been talking about?" My mind fell back to some comments Anna Mae'd made recently. "She wants to take a pottery class. I don't know how expensive something like that is, but it's an idea. And the more I think about it, I think she's been dropping the hint and I'm just now picking up on it." I gave myself a mental forehead slap.

  "Thanks!" she said.

  We chatted for a couple more minutes about everyday crap, then hung up.

  "Y'all goin' to the fireworks?" Gabi asked. She'd put everything away while I was on the phone.

  "What fireworks?"

  "They're settin' off fireworks over the lake as the grand finale to the fishin' tournament," she said as we gathered up the plate and empty cups. "The ladies auxiliary is hosting it."

  "Oh yeah," I said. "I did hear Roberta mention something about it, now that you say that, but it was forever ago. She has so many grand plans that I can't keep track of 'em all."

  "Well she followed through with this one. They start at dusk." She gave a conspiratorial smile. "And I have a date!"

  "You do not!" I said, slapping her on the arm. "With who?" The dating pool in Keyhole Lake was barely deeper than the gene pool.

  She took a deep breath. "Skeet."

  Color me stunned. I didn't see that one coming. At all. She'd had a huge crush on him from middle school through high school, but her mom had been such a troll that she'd never let her go anywhere or do anything. She'd even missed both proms because she'd been grounded for some insane reason or another. "That's awesome, Gab. You deserve it, and so does Skeet."

  Gabi held up a hand, grinning like a mule eating briers. "It's only a date. A first date. So don't go posting the marriage bans yet."

  Despite her words, I could almost feel the excitement rolling off her.

  "Lord, don't say that too loud," I said. "Coralee and the girls'll have bets placed on you in no time."

  "Bets?" She was understandably confused.

  "Oh. Yeah. They keep little side bets goin' to pass the time when gossip's slow. They have wagers on everything from when Hunter and I are getting married—Addy's determined to win that one—to
when Fred Silver's old boat is finally gonna sink."

  "Wow," she said, shaking her head. "Those women."

  "Yeah, but they're harmless, except the whole marriage thing is starting to wear on me."

  "So where are you on that, anyway? Anything in the works?" she asked.

  "We haven't even been dating for a year yet," I protested, looking at her like she'd sprouted a second head before I thought to check if we were alone. Thankfully, Hunter was in the garage with Matt and hadn't heard that.

  "Okay, okay. I was just curious."

  Everybody seemed to be on that bandwagon, but I wasn't playing. Hunter and I had a good thing, which was exactly why we weren't rushing it. He still had his house and I had the farm, though he did stay over. Shelby'd had a come-to-Jesus talk with me about that, and I'd thought about it long and hard before letting him stay over.

  It was a tough situation to be in. Had I been on my own, it wouldn't have been an issue, but it fell on my shoulders to set an example. I wasn't ready for marriage, though, and neither was he. In the end, even Roberta, the most righteous in the circle, had finally told me to quit falling on my own sword.

  And then she told me Christmas was a nice time of year for a wedding, so I knew where she'd placed her money.

  "Anyway," she said, "we're going to the fireworks, then for ice cream, unless there's something better at the dock. I gotta go jump in the shower."

  Yeah, because it didn't matter how cute she was, nobody could really rock the horse sweat and green slobber look.

  "Have fun," I called after her as she dashed toward the house.

  I gathered the empty plate, cups, and tea jug and carried them toward the house, thinking it may be fun to catch the fireworks. And if I caught a glimpse of Gabi and Skeet having fun together, all the better.

  I'd just thrown everything away and was washing up when the guys came inside, so I told them about the fireworks.

  "That may actually be fun," I said, wondering if Jim had managed to walk away with the win.

  Matt and Hunter glanced back and forth, and something passed between them.

  "Anna Mae's busy tonight," Matt said, "so you two kids have fun. I'll feed the horses."

  Once again, I had the feeling they were up to something but had no idea what.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  THE DOCK WAS EVEN MORE crowded than it had been earlier in the day, and I was glad we'd had the foresight to bring the bikes again. After parking in the same space between the trailers as we had before, we roamed down to the dock house to check out the stats.

  I gave a little fist pump when I saw that Jim had won. I didn't recognize the people who came in second or third, but Ray, the guy who owned the Starlite Diner, placed fourth, and Fred and Boone placed sixth. Not in the money but still respectable.

  We decided to wander down and check out the boats, only to find there weren't many docked. Some folks had stayed out and fished a little more or had come back to shore and picked up spouses and kids for a little recreational time on the water. The lake was dotted with everything from sailboats to little johnboats, and the mood was festive.

  I had to say, this was much better than in previous years.

  On the periphery of the dock parking lot, there was an area set up for kids and families. The ladies auxiliary was running a cake walk, and Candy Claymore was running a face-painting table for the kids. That explained all the unicorns and batman symbols I'd seen on young faces. Behind her table, she'd hung some of her original artwork, which was off the chain if you liked landscapes.

  A kid of about ten approached us wearing his Boy Scout uniform and talked us into buying ten bucks' worth of 50/50 tickets. Not to be outdone—or maybe because she was letting the Boy Scout weed out the marks for her—a Girl Scout followed right behind him and sold us a couple of chances to win a set of new fishing poles, complete with full tackle boxes.

  After meandering through the zigzagging path that led us past all of the various booths, we ended up back where we started. The sun was starting to set, and I was a little disappointed we hadn't run into Gabi and Skeet.

  A woman's voice called my name from behind me, and I was surprised when I turned around and saw Melanie and Jim Schrader. She was smiling and waving, while he was hanging back, smiling but looking a little uncomfortable.

  "Fancy runnin' into you here," she said, her smile wide and genuine. She looked at Hunter. "And I assume this is Keyhole Lake's esteemed sheriff?"

  He stepped forward and held out his hand. "You assume correctly, but I'm afraid I'm at a disadvantage."

  I made the introductions, and his demeanor chilled a bit. Mel didn't seem to notice, though, and kept chattering. "We came down on the spur of the moment. I saw a flyer for the tournament when we were down this week and talked Jim into entering. He loves to fish but ends up golfing most weekends in order to rub the right elbows."

  So, they had a boat and he had a dirty secret Hank had used to blackmail him.

  "Very nice," Hunter said, directing his attention toward the judge. "How'd you do?"

  "About how I expected, but a bad day of fishing beats a good day at work, right?" Judge Schrader seemed to be warming up, but there was still something on the edges, as if he was a little wary.

  "Sure is," Hunter agreed, eying him like he was trying to look through smoke.

  Mel was talking, and I'd lost track of what she was saying because I'd been trying to read the judge. I was debating breaking my own personal code and peeking into his mind, but that wasn't something I did lightly, especially given that my powers had grown exponentially over the past year. I was a little wary of crawling into somebody's gourd and picking through their brain. Plus, I wasn't skilled enough to just pick up the parts I was interested in, and trust me when I say there are some things you just don't want to know.

  So, no picking brains unless absolutely necessary. And at this point, I didn't consider it necessary. I had to draw the moral line somewhere, for my sake as well as for others.

  "So what do you say?" Mel asked. "Cocktails and fireworks on the boat?"

  I looked to Hunter, desperately hoping he'd been paying closer attention than I had.

  Thankfully, he was practically psychic when it came to me. That, or I looked as confused as I felt.

  "We'd love to join you on your boat to watch the fireworks," he said, extending the answer so I'd know what was going on.

  Had the circumstances been different, I'd have been excited because I'd never watched fireworks from the lake before. For some silly reason, though, the idea of being in the middle of the lake after dark with possible murderers put a damper on my excitement.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  THE SCHRADERS’ BOAT turned out to be more what I would classify as a small yacht. There was a full galley, sitting room, and bedroom below deck, as well as a screened-in seating area on the aft deck. After a brief tour, that's where we gathered while Mel made us our cocktails. I joined her, mostly to make sure she didn't spike our drinks.

  The more she chatted, the worse I felt about suspecting her, but I figured it was better to feel a little guilty than to end up as fish food. I shuddered at the notion, and she noticed it.

  "Are you cold, sugar? If so, I have a jacket you can borrow."

  "No thanks," I said, rubbing my arms. "Somebody just walked over my grave is all." I cringed at the word choice, but she shuddered.

  "I hate it when that happens. Sometimes I get a little flash of vision to go along with it. It's always of me but never enough for me to understand. It's the only time I have visions of myself."

  I hadn't given her ability much thought, but I was curious. "How often does that happen to you? The visions, I mean."

  "It varies. Sometimes I go a couple weeks without one, then I'll have two or three a day for a week." She shrugged while she poured the wine she'd just uncorked. "I've had them since I was about ten or so. Thank goodness for my grandmother, because she understood what was happening to me. I thought I was losi
n' my mind."

  Thinking back to when my own powers started developing, I couldn't help but agree with her, though I didn't want to say it out loud. Her believing I was a witch was one thing—confirming it for her was another.

  Instead, I kept it vague. "Yeah, it's always nice to have somebody in the family to help you when you're struggling."

  It was true enough; my mom passed just a few months after my powers really started to develop. If it hadn't been for Addy and Aunt Beth, I don't know what would have happened.

  I scooped two of the wineglasses off the little bar cart and followed her back to the aft deck, where the guys were engaged in a fishing conversation.

  There was a walk-around area on the lower deck of the boat meant for fishing or getting from stern to bow, and I asked if I could check it out. Though it was nice to be on the water, the view was limited from where we were at.

  "Sure," she said. "C'mon and I'll show you. We have a great little swimming deck below that you can't see from here."

  I followed her out the door and down a little ladder, careful not to drop my wineglass. The walkway was three or four feet wide, so once we were down, navigating was easy. She led me around to an area that was directly below where we were sitting.

  There was a nice ledge with a ladder leading down into the water, and two sets of steps, one on each side, led down to the swimming platform.

  She unclipped a safety cord at the top of one set of steps and made her way down them to the deck.

  "The boat doesn't really go fast enough for skiing, but this is probably my favorite area of the boat." She kicked off her sandals, then sat on the edge of the deck, dangling her feet in the water.

  I did the same and had to agree with her. I imagined if it were my boat, this would become a favorite spot for me, too.

  "I like coming out on the boat, especially when we don't have guests," she said, looking across the water. "When we were younger, we did it at least one weekend a month, but since his career took off a decade or so ago, time to actually enjoy life became a rare commodity."