by Tegan Maher
When she reached for a coffee cup, her hands were shaking so much I worried she was gonna drop it. She wobbled a little as she pushed the cabinet shut, and I felt a combination of bad for her and glad I wasn’t the only one who felt like somebody’d set a bomb off in my head.
Unlike me, she'd had much more than three glasses. As she’d pointed out, having your mom killed and your dad suspected of doing it was enough to drive a saint to drink.
"That horrible smell is our secret family hangover cure," I said, "and if you feel as rough as I think you do, you’re gonna be glad for it. I made you a cup. It's on the counter, but chase it with something. Trust me—if you think it smells bad, that's nothing compared to the taste. But it works."
Thanks to the magical boost Raeann gave it when she made it, I was already beginning to feel human again, though it wasn’t working as fast as it normally did. Still, I slipped my shoes on to go feed. "I'll be back in an hour or so. It's my morning to take care of the horses."
Shelby came clomping down the stairs bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, then sniffed the air and grimaced. "Mornin' ladies." She took one look at Rose, who was standing by the Keurig waiting for her cup to brew, holding her head and squinting.
"Oh, sweetie," she said, grimacing. "Drink the remedy. It'll taste like it's killin' you, but trust me, you'll feel better."
I raised a brow at her. “And how, exactly, would you know that?”
She smiled and ignored the question, but I let it pass, mostly because she was almost eighteen and I couldn’t judge; it hadn’t been that long since I’d been a teenager.
"I have to go help Will and Cody,” she said. “There's a mare having twins over at Sandpiper farm, and she's havin' trouble."
"Go, then," I said, shooing her toward the door. Twins for a horse were tough enough; if the mare was having problems, it was likely a life-or-death situation for either her or the foals, or both.
"I'll go with," Addy said, floating after her. "Looks like nobody around here is gonna be up for polite conversation any time soon, and I've dealt with twins a time or two, so maybe I can help."
Gabi and Hunter were both already gone, but I heard Raeann thumping around in her room. It was her one day off, and I was willing to bet she was glad for it. I made myself another cup of coffee and headed toward the door, feeling more hospitable knowing I wasn't leaving Rose alone.
"Rae's on her way down," I said, then pointed toward the remedy. "Seriously, drink that. No matter how bad it tastes, you won't regret it. Take it out to the back deck. It’s relaxing looking out over the pasture while you wake up—and recover."
She gave a little nod, then winced at the pain the movement caused and waved me toward the door.
Even though it was only seven-thirty, it was already getting steamy. Matt came down right as I finished turning the horses out and helped me clean out the stalls, so I was done in half the time.
"So you and Anna Mae went to the movies, right? How was it?" I asked as we strolled toward the house. Crowded spaces were still a problem for him. He was slowly trying to overcome some of his combat-induced PTSD and was doing great, but he still had a ways to go.
"You know," he said, shaking his head in wonder, "it wasn't bad. As a matter of fact, it was great except for a couple of instances when I started to feel claustrophobic. When we were picking our seats, Anna Mae suggested we sit up top where I had the wall to my back so it felt more open. It was fun."
I grinned and gave him a hip bump as we stepped onto the porch. "That's awesome—I knew you could do it!"
His face colored a little; he was more at home with high-fives than he was compliments. "It's a lot to do with Anna Mae," he said. "She gets me."
And for him, those were big words, indeed.
He made himself a cup of coffee, then took it out back to where Rae and Rose were sitting having theirs.
I had to pull Justin out of bed by the ankles, and you'd have thought I was wrestling a bear rather than a ten-year-old. The kid would sleep 'til ten if you didn't wake him up, not that I could blame him. When I was working the dinner shift at Bobbie Sue's, I didn't usually get home until midnight. Back then, sleeping until ten was average for me, too.
The night before, he'd asked me to get him up when I started baking because he wanted to learn how to make apple fritters. I swear the kid was destined to be a great chef someday; if it was food-related, he was interested. Don't get me wrong—he liked dirt and four-wheelers and all the normal stuff kids his age did, but cooking was a big deal for him, too.
"If you want to learn how to make fritters, you better get up," I said, tugging at the covers he'd pulled over his face.
After a couple more minutes of struggling, I gave up. "Fine. Sleep, and I'll do it myself."
I went back downstairs and started pulling out the sugar, flour, and other ingredients and smiled to myself when he came padding down the steps.
"Fine," he grumbled, "I'm up. There better be more to this than just magicking them out of thin air."
I glared at him. Yeah, because that’s how it works. I just sit on my butt eating bear claws that I summon up by twitching my nose. Keep it up and I’ll turn you into a little girl with pigtails.”
“Eww,” he said, scrunching his face. “I’d rather be a frog.”
“Good to know. Little girl it’ll be, then. Now, let’s get to work before the temptation overwhelms me and I can’t resist.”
For the next three hours, we made several different pastries, including danishes, fritters, and his favorite: cinnamon rolls. Since baking was usually a solitary activity for me, I was always a little surprised by how much fun I had teaching him. He asked good questions and was getting a decent handle on many of the processes.
Rae and Rose must have felt human again, because they came inside when they smelled the goodies baking and talked to us while we finished up.
"Now," I said as we drizzled the icing over the last batch of cinnamon rolls, "let's clean up and get these to Brew."
"You're gonna do the cleanup here, right?" he asked, cringing as his gaze wondered over the flour-crusted bowls, utensils, and counter.
I started to say no just to give him a hard time, but then took pity on him. I never did cleanup manually, so I wasn't going to this time, either. I pointed at the dishes and motioned toward the sink, then said a few words to call out the dishrags, broom, and mop. Within just a minute, the dishes were washing, the rags were wiping, and the broom was sweeping.
He grinned and reached out to fist-bump me. "Now that's how you clean a kitchen!"
Cleaning the kitchen was one of the few times I consistently used magic. Two others were dusting and washing my truck. I did the bike by hand, and made myself—and Shelby—do laundry the hard way, too. Addy always said that just because we could use magic to do something didn't always mean we should.
She made sure we were always self-sufficient and knew how to do everything by hand.
"Okay, brat," I told him, giving him a little shove as I popped a piece of cinnamon roll in my mouth. "Go change your clothes and meet me down here in ten minutes."
Rae and Rose stood from the table.
"I'm going to run Mom’s clothes down to the funeral home," she said, giving me a brief hug. "Thanks for everything. Your help, the picnic, the nice evening. Even the hangover cure. I felt like hammered shit this morning, and I never have a hangover. That concoction's the bomb."
"Thanks," Rae said, smiling. "I do try."
"Speaking of," I said to her, "We used the last of the cure this morning."
"I'll do up another batch today. I'm making coffee blends anyway."
They left, and I turned to Justin. "Let's get a move on, big guy."
He raced up the stairs and I followed behind at a less enthusiastic pace. Fifteen minutes later, we had the last of the goodies boxed and loaded up and were pulling out of the driveway.
Halfway there, my phone sang with Gabi's ringtone, and I handed it to Justin to answer; it was unusua
l for her to call rather than text.
He slid to answer, then put it on speaker.
"Don't freak out," she said when we both said hello. Which, of course, made me freak out. "I got in a fender-bender on my way home from work; a guy rear-ended me. I'm okay and there's not much damage to my truck, but the guy's Mustang is another matter. JC"—one of Hunter's deputies—"is on the way to do the report, so I wanted to call you before Hunter did to let you know I'm fine."
My thoughts flickered automatically to ax murderers that ran women off the road to kill them because, obviously, that was the most likely scenario.
"Where are you?" I asked, ready to point the truck in that direction. If she was somewhere rural, I was going to go wait with them.
She laughed. "At the intersection of Main Street and Plunkett, Mom. I'm sure it won't be long, but I didn't want you to worry."
"Okay, then." She was a big girl. If she said she was good, then she was. Plus, it was Main Street in broad daylight. "I'll be at either Brew or Reimagined, so stop in and give me the story."
"All right, bye." She hung up, but I was pretty sure I heard a giggle before she did.
Justin wrinkled his nose at the phone. "She's such a weirdo."
I sighed. "Yeah, kiddo, she is. But we love her anyway."
And I had to wonder just how tall, fair, and handsome the guy in the Mustang was to make her giggle even with her precious truck dinged up.
CHAPTER 19
JUSTIN AND I DROPPED the pastries off at Brew, then I took him to Bobbie Sue's. She was taking the day off to go to the lake and invited me, but I had to pass because I needed to get some work done. Justin, on the other hand, was over the moon at the idea of spending two days in a row there. I grabbed a couple brisket sandwiches while I was at the restaurant and decided to take Hunter some lunch before I went to the shop.
The weather was beautiful; the temperature had dropped overnight, and it was one of those perfect fall days. I just parked in my regular spot behind Reimagined and walked to the courthouse.
On the way, Angus and Trouble popped in.
"Hey, you two," I said. "As nice as it is today, I figured for sure you'd be at the lake."
Trouble pulled a face. "Too many tourists," she said. "I can't wait for school to start up so us locals can take it back."
I couldn't disagree; I loved the lake but didn't care for it so much this time of year. Tourists kept the town afloat, but they sure did have a way of sucking the fun out of things like going out to eat and spending a day at the beach. That was another great thing about the cabin Hunter and Matt refurbished—we could go to our little slice of beach anytime we wanted without worrying about anybody being there.
"You know," I said, realizing I hadn't told them about it yet, "Hunter and Matt remodeled the cabin on the lake side of my property."
Angus nodded. "The old fishing cabin. Matt told me they was gonna surprise you, but I didn't know they'd done it already."
"Yeah. Y'all are welcome to go there and hang out. It's private, and they did a great job—even cleared a nice-sized beach area."
Trouble's face lit up. "Thanks, Noelle! We'll do that."
"There's something else we wanted to talk to you about, too. About the murder," she said, then paused as if she was struggling to find the right words. "Angus and I were thinkin'. Has it occurred to you that Merriam Wallace died sorta the same way Ida did?"
I slowed for a minute. "Who's Merriam Wallace? The name's familiar, but I can't place her."
"She's the lady who always did the frozen sangria stand at the fairs," Angus said, blushing a little. "She used to slip an extra blurp or two of wine in mine because I helped her set up and tear down the booth."
"Okay, yeah, now I remember," I said. "I didn't know she'd died. That's a shame. She was a nice woman and her daughter is too. They used to come to the Halloween parties at the farm."
"Yeah, that's her," Angus said. "Anyway, they say she had a stroke, but I'm wondering now if maybe she wasn't poisoned too."
"Wouldn't they have tested her for that?" I asked as I reached the statue of Major Thadius Washburn, our town founder. The statue had stood in front of the courthouse for nearly two hundred years, standing witness to the comings and goings of the town, good and bad alike.
"Probly not," he said, rubbing the silvery whiskers on his jaw. "She was up there in years. Not old, exactly, but late sixties, early seventies. I reckon they just figured she died of natural causes. From the way she worked that garden and kept up with all the youngins at the youth center where she volunteered, you'da never guessed it though. Still ran her farm mostly by herself since her husband died five years ago or so, but she sold off most of the critters."
"What makes you think they're connected?" I asked.
"Just strikes us as odd, two healthy women dyin' unexpectedly so close together is all," Trouble said.
I worried my lip, thinking about what that would mean. "I'll mention it to Hunter."
We'd reached the top of the courthouse steps and I pulled one of the double doors open, my mind mulling over the implications. One murder was bad, but two?
Peggy Sue was gone to lunch, so I skirted her desk and made my way down the hall to Hunter's office. He was leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk, flipping through a sheaf of papers.
"Hey you," I said, pecking on the doorframe and holding up the bag of food I’d snagged at Bobbie Sue’s. "What are the odds a brisket sandwich would be welcome right now?"
"Better than the odds I’ll find anything new in these," he said, pulling his feet from his desk and tossing the papers onto it. He rolled his head on his neck and stretched. "I've been sitting here rehashing what I've learned for half an hour. I've called the pawn shop where Millie worked in Atlanta, and all the manager had to say was she was lazy and acted dumber than a box of rocks—emphasis on acted—and they were glad to see her go."
I plopped down in the chair on the other side of his desk. "That's not surprising, from what I've heard."
I set the bag on his desk and pulled the chair closer. "I just talked to Angus and Trouble, and you're probably not going to like what they had to say."
"Let's hear it," he said, taking his sandwich out of the bag and handing me mine. "It's not like it can make my day any worse."
"Actually, it may give you a little more to go on, but will double the paperwork," I said, then relayed what I'd been told as I unwrapped my lunch, explaining who Merriam was in case he hadn’t heard of her death. "Angus and Trouble think it's odd they died of similar symptoms so close together, and I can't say I disagree. I wonder if the women were connected in any way."
He was quiet for a few minutes, chewing and thinking.
He shook his head. "No idea, because Merriam's death was ruled natural causes so I didn’t investigate it. I can talk to Jim though; he's the one who covered both cases."
"Might not hurt," I said. "Because if they died from the same thing, there's a much bigger problem than somebody knocking off one crotchety old bat for her house or whatever."
"Great," he said, scrubbing a hand over his face as he wadded up the paper wrapper that had held his sandwich. "Just what we need—a bigger problem."
As much as I didn't want to think so, I had a horrible feeling in my gut we were on the right track.
CHAPTER 20
HUNTER CALLED JIM. As luck would have it, he kept a blood sample of everybody who died. He agreed to check Merriam’s sample out that evening.
"I'm going to do some digging and see what I can come up with," Hunter told me. "Maybe they intersected somewhere. Ate lunch at the same place or something. It's not like I'm making any progress here."
I shrugged. "Worth a shot, I guess. Then you're one step ahead if it turns out she was poisoned. I'm going over to the shop for a while. I want to finish those lamps. Want to meet at your house tonight? We'll finish painting the kitchen."
"Sounds good." He stood and gave me a kiss. "I'll be here tracking dow
n any information I can on Merriam."
Hunter had bought a house not long after moving to Keyhole and was in the process of remodeling it. We spent most of our time together at the farm just because I had the horses and Shelby to look after, but I was getting more comfortable being away now that Shel had gone from a rebelling hellion to a mostly responsible young adult, and Matt and Gabi were there to help out with the animals.
The afternoon sun blasted me in my face when I stepped outside, and I pulled my shades down from the top of my head. Surprisingly, Erol was gone when I got to Reimagined, and I was glad to see it. The other ghosts had been making an effort to draw him out a little, and he was finally figuring out that heat, sunburns, and sweating—three of his main complaints about doing outdoorsy things—were no longer concerns.
I finished up the lamps and plugged them in, happy with my handiwork. After shooting some pictures of them for my website, I decided to play around with some of the random odds and ends I had laying around. A while back, I'd made some clocks out of old Coke signs mainly because I’d had an entire box of them that I’d had no idea what to do with. Much to my surprise, they'd caught on like wildfire, and I'd moved on to other small projects.
My most recent kick was making candleholders and other rustic accent pieces out of old bedsprings. I had a good time thinking of different pieces to make, and it was a great way to keep them out of the dump. The pieces were almost pure profit, too, seeing as how most people just threw old mattresses and box springs away or worse yet, heaved them over a hill or into a lake. Yes, that's a thing, ignorant as it may seem, though it’s slowed down quite a bit over the last couple of decades.
Right as I was closing up, Anna Mae stopped in. I'd just put the finishing touches on one of my bedspring projects—a kitchen utensil holder. I'd soldered the spring to a metal base, opened it up so it was bigger at the top than the bottom, and spray-painted it red.
"That's adorable!" she exclaimed.