by Tegan Maher
I LEFT CORALEE'S WITH a lot on my mind. I wanted to talk to Bobbie Sue to see what was up with her, but had no idea how to approach it. I refused to believe she was stepping out on Earl, but something stunk and if she was in trouble, I wanted to help.
First though, there was the whole green-truck thing to deal with. Max had said the man was big and had a limp and I was anxious to hear if the guy Hunter found met the description or not. Unfortunately, that description wasn't any good for practical purposes because we didn't have any other witnesses.
Hunter had been going about it from the other end—he'd been looking for people who had a grudge publicly, and privately keeping track of what they drove. He'd told the sheriff he'd gotten an anonymous tip, but that was worthless. He'd have to build a case without the vehicle first. Hopefully, he'd lucked out.
Rather than call him, I stopped in my shop and tossed a few pastries in a bag, then walked to the courthouse. Peggy Sue, Hunter's pleasantly-plump receptionist and the woman who really ran the courthouse, smiled when she saw me, her round face lighting up. She stood up and came around the desk to give me a hug.
"Noelle! What a nice surprise! Look at your hair. Why, you're just pretty as a picture!"
"Hey, Peggy Sue. Thank you," I said, hugging her back. "That's a pretty dress you're wearing."
When Hank ran the town, she'd been one of the crabbiest people I'd ever met, and always wore stark navy dresses, with her hair pulled into a tight bun. Come to find out, she'd just been miserable doing Hank's dirty work, but needed the job and had nobody to go to with her concerns. Hank owned the town, lock, stock, and barrel. It took him dying for everything to come to rights.
Now she wore bright sundresses, had little ringlets of hair loose around her face, and smiled all the time. My heart broke for how miserable such a wonderful person had been for so long. One of many.
She blushed and flapped a hand at me. "Pshaw. I picked this up at the Goodwill for five bucks!" She eyed the bag. "I sure do hope that's what I think it is, and I hope it's for me!"
I held it out to her. "It sure is. Strawberry cream-cheese danishes. I know they're your favorites and I just baked them this morning."
Peggy Sue'd done me a couple good turns, first with the taxes on the farm when I was about to lose it, then by digging up the records for my shop and letting me know that the county had acquired it for back taxes, and letting me buy it for what was owed. I figured I owed her a lifetime of pastries, and I was trying to find some pretty piece to repurpose for her, too.
She grinned and went to fill up her coffee, motioning me down the hall. "He's in his office, sug. You just go on back."
His door was open so I tapped on the frame.
Once Gabi had given him the list, he started with the people she said were most likely to stay in touch with Marcus. One of the ones that she described as being in his inner circle, Dirk Henderson, had been out of town when Hunter had arranged the interviews but had returned his call as soon as he heard.
According to Dirk, a guy named Sam Keith had loaned Marcus a bunch of money and Marcus had missed the date when he was supposed to pay him back. Sam, he said, was fit to be tied and had left a dozen messages all over town detailing what was gonna happen if he didn't get his money.
"And this Sam Keith drives a green truck?" I asked, taking one of the black office chairs in front of his desk.
He nodded. "I'm gonna go see him right now to see if he matches the description Max gave us. It's not like I could come out and ask Sheriff Custer. He's an odd duck, anyway."
I lifted a shoulder. "He has a lot of territory to cover, and now he's got you coming into his county digging around. Remember how it was when you first came here? Folks tend to circle the wagons when strangers ride in."
"You're right, but it's still frustrating. I just want to solve this and move on. It'd be helpful if he weren't dead-set that Gabi did it, too. He thinks I'm wasting my time and his by even looking any further."
"Yeah," I said, "that doesn't surprise me. He's got a ready-made suspect. To be fair, I'd probably feel the same way he does—without the tunnel vision—if I were on the outside looking in. Jilted lover who had a second huge fight in which she told him to die, then he turns up dead in her barn. When you look at it like that, it seems cut and dried."
He arched a brow and smiled. "Maybe you shouldn't talk to him. You're much more succinct than he is. If he could string thoughts together like that, he'd have convinced the judge yesterday to issue a warrant."
That caught my attention. "Wait, what? He tried to get a warrant on her?"
Hunter leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head. "He sure did. But when the judge asked for evidence, all he had was circumstantial stuff, and I threw in the anonymous tip about the truck. It was close though. If Max hadn't given us that to go on, her goose would be cooked and there's nothing I could have done about it."
I drummed my fingers on his desk and an idea popped into my head. "Are you talking to anybody else over there today?"
"Nope, just him." He narrowed his eyes. "Why? What are you thinking?"
"Relax," I said, leaning back in my own chair. "I'm just thinking maybe I should go with you. Bring a little mojo. You know, nothing serious, but I could tell if he's lying or not."
He leaned forward, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. How would I explain why my girlfriend—and Gabi's friend—is with me?"
I huffed out a frustrated breath. "I know you're right. And even if we thought he was lying, what could we do with that information? Add your girlfriend's witchy intuition to the talking donkey's testimony?"
"You know," he said, smiling, "when you put it that way, it makes my life seem a whole lot stranger than it feels. I don't know how I feel about that."
I stood and walked around his desk and sat in his lap. "You feel awesome about it. After all, what would you do without the witch, or even the talking donkey?"
He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss. "I don't know, and I don't intend to find out."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I had a few hours to kill before I had to pick up Justin from Bobbie Sue's, so I went back to the shop. I still had to strip the sticky old lacquer and layers of grime from the settee before I could start the transformation.
I was trying to decide whether I wanted to stain it or go for a distressed look using country-blue and white paints, but that was neither here nor there until I got rid of the gunk.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket an hour or so later, and I stood, stripping my gloves off and setting aside the putty knife I was using to oh-so-carefully scrape off fifty years of barn funk and cigarette tar. TJ's face popped onto the screen as I pulled it out.
"Hey," I said as I stretched the kinks out of my back.
"Hey, back," she said. "I'm in town and wondered if you wanted to get together for lunch. Moira's with me and we have a couple ideas we wanna run past you."
Curious as to what they'd possibly need my opinion on, I agreed. "Meet you at The Cat?"
"I was thinking maybe Rae's, since I'd like her input, too."
The caffeine would probably be a good thing, anyway. "That works. When?"
"We're on our way there now. Say ten?"
"I'm covered to my elbows in paint thinner and sludge. Gimme twenty."
We disconnected, and I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking about. TJ was still learning to use her witchy powers, and I know she was struggling with the regional witch's council in Virginia where she lived. Apparently, some bigoted old biddies on the board refused to believe she'd lived thirty years without knowing she was a witch.
I felt bad for her, because up until a few months ago, she hadn't even known magic was a real thing. Unfortunately, one of her gifts was the power of persuasion and she'd used it, albeit unwittingly, all her life. The old bats in her regional council were damned and determined to make the transition even harder for her than it already was.
Camille and Au
rora—the leader of our council—had tried to work with them to smooth the way for her, but even they'd given up. So, TJ was left mostly to her own devices. Thankfully, Moira was a witch and could teach her the mundane things, but her specialty was space manipulation.
She could actually make herself blend so well into her environment by reflecting and refracting light that she was all but invisible. However, she had no idea how to help TJ because her powers were mental rather than physical. Thus, whenever she came down, we all tried to work with her as much as possible to refine her skills.
By the time I cleaned up myself and the area, it had already been twenty minutes. I rushed out the door, hollering over my shoulder to Erol that I'd be back in an hour.
Since I was late, TJ and Moira were waiting for me when I got there, and Rae'd made all of us coffee. Brew was empty except for us; Angel was even already gone.
"Hey, ladies," I said, scooching in next to Rae. "What are these ideas you wanna run past us? I've had everything from bootleggin' to psychic gift shops running through my head since we talked."
TJ laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Nothing so dangerous as bootleggin' and nothing so cliche as a psychic gift shop." She and Moira looked at each other. "We're considering moving down here for good."
"We?" I said, looking back and forth between them.
"Yup," Moira said. "Dealing with our council for the last few months has turned my stomach. We're in marketing, for heaven's sake. There's no reason why we can't do that from anywhere. We both stuck with a brick-and-mortar business for the health insurance and benefits, but then we started doing a little freelance stuff on the side, and found out we can make just as much money on our own."
"Well," TJ said, "I can. Moira wants to try her hand at design. When we were down here selling the house, the realtor kept complaining that staged houses sell so much better, but there aren't any good designers around willing to do that, and owners don't want to take it upon themselves."
"That actually sounds like a cool job," Rae said. "Are you just going to do it for realtors, or are you going to do private contracts, too? Because, you know, I know somebody"—she motioned toward me with her head—"who makes custom pieces that add grace and beauty to any home."
I bumped her with my shoulder and laughed. "You have an amazing way of polishing turds."
She scowled. "Don't you dare talk yourself down. You may be new, but people are already asking questions on your website, looking for your next pieces."
That shut me up. "They are? I didn't even know there was a way for them to ask questions, except by calling me." When it came to that end of the business, I had to admit I was lax. She'd built the site for me and helped me maintain it because I just wasn't good at it.
"Oh jeez," she said, rolling her eyes. "Of course there's a way for them to ask questions. Several ways, actually. How do you think you sold the vanity for more money than you were asking for it? People got into a bidding war in the comments section of the page."
"Oh," I said, a little stunned. "I just thought you raised the asking price."
"By five hundred dollars?" she asked, her eyebrows shooting into her hair.
"Wait," TJ said. "You mean the vanity she made from the old door and end table I gave her?"
"Yeah," I said. The first day I met her, she was clearing out her recently deceased but—unbeknownst to her—not dearly departed aunt's house for sale. I'd stumbled upon the sale just by seeing the sign on the road. Of course, that had led to a hot magical mess that took some serious finagling to straighten out, but that didn't have anything to do with the door or table. Much.
She leaned across the table. "Now I gotta know. If a bidding war took it up by five hundred bucks, what'd you make off a dilapidated door and a beat-up end table?"
I grinned at her. "Enough that you're gonna wish you'd have charged me for them!"
"Shut up!" she said, "How much?"
"Two grand." I felt a little like a peacock, but I was proud of that piece. It was my first and I'd hated to let it go, but ... two grand.
"Wow," Moira said. "And to think of all the stuff we sent to the dump that day."
I'd thought the exact same thing when she'd told me chucked a bunch of other potential goodies.
"Yeah," TJ said, leaning back into the booth. "I coulda let you have it on commission!"
Rae laughed. "I told you she's good." She pulled up a picture of the piece, and Moira's eyes grew round.
"Wow, Noe, that's gorgeous. Seriously, if I get into the personal design side of the business, you'll have a solid customer."
"Thank you, but let's talk more about the logistics, here. When are you thinking about moving?"
"Well," TJ said, taking a cookie from a plate Rae'd placed in the center of the table, "We sorta already quit our jobs. Our last day is next Friday. Then we're renting a big moving truck and hopefully doing it all in one shot."
"Next Friday?" Rae set her coffee cup down and reached for the carafe for a refill. "You're not burning any daylight, are you?"
TJ laughed. "Is that a bad thing?"
"Oh, heck no! It'll be awesome havin' y'all close enough to come visit. I'm just surprised you could pull it altogether so soon."
"Well, it made it easier since TJ has the house. I'm gonna rent a room from her, so we didn't have to find a place."
TJ rolled her eyes. "She's gonna split the utilities with me."
Moira scowled. "I'm gonna rent—"
I held up a hand. "Details, ladies."
The door chimed above the door and Camille strolled in, looking perfect as always. She may have gone off her lettuce-and-ice-water diet and taken the stick out of her butt, but she still managed to look like a runway model no matter what time of day or night. Shoot, even when she wasn't wearing a business suit, she pulled that off.
"Hey Camille!" we said at the same time.
She smiled, her whole face lighting up. "Ya'll havin' a girls' day without me?"
I shook my head. "Not on your life. TJ and Moira have some news."
"Really?" she said, grabbing an extra coffee cup and pulling a chair up to the end of the booth. "Do tell."
"We're moving here—well, to Aunt Nora's house—for good. Next week," TJ said, practically vibrating with excitement.
Camille blinked a few times, maintaining her smile, but was obviously pole-axed by the news.
"What?" Moira asked. "Is that a bad thing?"
"Honey, have you told your aunt about this yet?"
TJ furrowed her brow. "Uh, no. We were gonna surprise her this evening. Why?"
Camille bit her lip, thinking. "Eagle Gap has, shall we say, a different citizenship than other towns around here."
I tilted my head. "Come again?" I'd lived in Keyhole my whole life and had never heard anything strange about Eagle Gap except for far-fetched stories about ... ohhhh. "Wait, you're not saying those old campfire stories are real are you?"
Camille pinched her lips together and raised her brows, nodding. "Yup," she said, popping the P. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
My head was reeling, thinking about all the times we'd camped out and played in the woods. We could have died. Somebody should have told us!
Camille snapped her fingers in front of my face. "You stop that right now, Noelle Flynn! You're applyin' the same bigotry to them that everybody else on the planet applies to you, and I won't have it."
Addy popped in above the table in time to hear what she said. "What are you goin' on about?" she snapped. "I ain't never known Noelle—or Rae either one—to be a bigot."
Camille's eyes snapped to her. "Fine. Maybe that's a little harsh, but her mind was racin' straight toward assumptions and prejudice before I could even explain."
"Explain what?" Addy asked.
"TJ and Moira are moving into Nora's house. They haven't told Nora yet."
"Oh," Addy said. "Is that all? So what's the deal? They're good people. Eat a ton, but man alive, are those men easy on the eyes! Matter of fact, I've on
ly met one or two of 'em in my whole life I didn't like. Wish I could say the same about witches. And there's only one family of 'em left."
"Okay," Rae said. "You've only met one or two what that you didn't like?"
Addy snorted. "Why werewolves, 'acourse."
Of course.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
"I'M SORRY," TJ SAID, "but I thought you just said werewolves."
Camille scowled at Addy. "Technically, they're shifters."
"No," Addy said. "Technically they're werewolves. You know as well as I do, ain't no such thing as a creature that turns into somethin' else just because the moon changes."
"Shifter is the politically correct term," Camille said.
"Oh, well excuse me. It's a stupid term. I'm a dead witch with no magic. Somebody gonna start calling me a post-living, magically-impaired individual? Pht. They're werewolves. Ain't none of 'em ever expressed to me they don't like the tag."
For my part, I was still stuck on the part where they said werewolves lived in the next town over. I mean, unlike TJ, I knew they existed, but I didn't know they were so close. I couldn't help the little shiver that ran down my spine as scenes from American Werewolf in London flashed through my brain.
Addy must have seen it, because she frowned at me. "Honey, they're werewolves, not politicians. Ain't no need for you to get all wound up about it. Only thing that's changed is now you know."
She was right, but it was still gonna take some getting used to.
"Ohh, I went out with a werewolf a couple of times," Moira said. "He was so ... rugged. He was kind of a dog, though."
Rae tipped up the corner of her mouth and Moira realized what she'd said. "Well, no pun intended."
"The best ones always happen by accident," I said.
"Okay," poor TJ said. "I just recently learned that, not only are witches real, but I am one. And ghosts exist. Now you're telling me werewolves exist? Are they, like, dangerous like in the movies? What else don't I know about?"
Addy shook her head. "They're not dangerous. I mean, don't get me wrong—you cross one of 'em, you'll find they're not doormats, and if you hurt one of their young’uns, well, you'll likely not live long enough to find out anything, but if you're a good neighbor that lives inside the same parameters you should show to anybody, they're great people. Hellacious cooks! Course, they gotta be, seein' as how they eat enough to feed a small army."