Murder So Magical: Witches of Keyhole Lake Mysteries
Author: Maher, Tegan
Date: 2018-01-27
Description: Murder is Magical and people like to do magic. In this, there are ghosts, southern charm, and lots of laughss
Publisher: Magical Words Publishing

© 2017 Tegan Maher

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form, by any means electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system currently in use or yet to be devised.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or institutions is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal use and may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase a copy for that person. If you did not purchase this book, or it was not purchased for your use, then you have an unauthorized copy. Please go to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting my hard work and copyright.

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Other Books in the Witches of Keyhole Lake Series

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CHAPTER ONE

Shelby, Emma, and I meandered through the second story of a large, turn-of-the-century Victorian house looking for pieces of furniture or decor that would work for an upcycle project I had in mind. At that point, something that would work for any project at all would have been great.

We'd been to three sales that day and four the day before, and let me tell you, I was learning fast that the phrase "estate sale" was more often than not just a fancy way of saying, "Great-Aunt Minnie kicked the bucket and we're unloading her stuff for whatever we can get for it."

That morning, we'd gotten up early and driven an hour to Eagle Gap. The first sale of the day had looked promising, at least in print. There'd been a picture of an RV in a wooded setting and a list of several items that sounded like they had potential. Silly me; I thought the RV was actually, you know, a recreational vehicle for sale in addition to items from the actual home. In reality, the sale was for the RV and its contents, because the chain-smoking little old lady who had lived in the RV for fifteen years—along with her ten cats—had died and her kids didn't want to go anywhere near it.

I didn't blame them; the camper smelled like a combination ashtray/litter box and the stench of that mixed with BO hovered like a cloud around the entire thing. I hadn't gone inside even though the auctioneer did everything but drag me in, promising that I could get it for a song. Yeah, I had no doubt that was the truth.

Thankfully, they had the contents sitting outside. There was a super nice dresser—the only thing in the sale worth a plugged nickel—but the smell had permeated the deepest layers of the wood. I'd opened one of the drawers and the overwhelming stench that wafted out had nearly knocked me over. Next!

The second sale had been okay, at least compared to the first. It had been in an actual house, and the little old couple who'd lived there had kept their property in plastic-on-the-couch condition. It was great for their adult kids because they made a small fortune, but not so great for me, since I was looking for beat-up pieces that I could breathe some love and life back into and transform into something entirely different.

That brought us to the graceful old house we were currently exploring. It was an open-house sale that we'd happened upon as we were driving. Nobody was pushing us to buy anything; we were free to roam at will, and each item had a price tag so you didn't have to ask. There was a woman about my age sitting at a desk by the front door, cashing people out and answering the occasional question.

I'd made my way through the downstairs and most of the second floor when my kid sister, Shelby, sidled up to me. "C'mon, Noelle," she said with that perfect blend of teenage whining and exasperation. "There's nothing here either. It's all either too expensive or made of pressed board. And it's hot in here."

I heaved a sigh; as bad as I hated to admit it, she was right. I turned back toward the stairway but before I'd made it two steps, Emma, Shelby's best friend, called to us from a room across the hall. "Hey y'all—I think I found somethin'. Come over here!"

Emma was standing in the middle of a near-empty room; the only items in it were an old, solid-wood door propped up against the wall by a little end table with an inch of dust on it. The door was weather-beaten, but obviously hand-carved and had two vertical, diamond-shaped windows, each about half the width of the door. Both were broken, but I instantly pictured mirrors in them rather than glass.

The end table wasn't anything spectacular but it had nice lines. The flat, scratched top had scrolled edges, and it had a single drawer, and long, curved legs. Both pieces looked like they were made from the same wood.

I crossed one arm, then rested my other elbow on it, chin in hand as I looked the two.

"Wow," Shelby said.

"I know, right?" Emma's eyes were glittering with the thrill of a successful hunt, and I nodded, catching her enthusiasm.

"I'm seeing a vanity, with mirrors instead of glass. Lose the back legs of the end table and attach it to the door. Maybe add some lighting," I said, my imagination running wild.

"Or an entry piece," Emma and Shelby said together.

I narrowed my eyes at them. "Did you do that on purpose?" They'd fallen into the irksome habit of communicating telepathically since Shelby had gotten full use of her powers a few months before.

Shelby held up her right hand. "No, I swear it was just a jinx. No hocus-pocus involved except for the magic of friendship." She smiled and batted her eyes at me, then elbowed Emma. "You owe me a Coke."

"Cut me a break," I said. "Ferreal though, they're good finds. How much are they?"

Unlike everything else in the house, they were dusty and dirty and didn't have price tags.

"I don't think they're actually for sale," Emma said, "But it seems like they're getting rid of everything. There's not much left so I'm sure if we ask, they'll sell it."

"And from the looks of them, you'll probably get 'em dirt cheap, too." Shelby knocked on top of the end table, then, after making sure nobody was watching from the hall, snapped her fingers over the top to reveal the wood beneath the dust. "It's solid wood, but it's scratched to pieces. You're gonna have to sand the crap out of it to get some of those scars out."

"That doesn't bother me," I shrugged as I spotted the woman from downstairs strolling down the hallway. "Excuse me?" I called, stepping toward the door.

She returned and took a couple steps into the room, her face open and friendly and her brow raised in question. "Yes?"

I motioned toward the door and table. "How much are you asking for those?"

She furrowed her brow. "They weren't actually for sale. We pulled them from the attic with a bunch of other junk and must have missed them when we made the run to the dump earlier."

The idea of more items like those landing in the dump made my heart clench a little, but at least these two pieces were salvageable. Still, I didn't want to pay a fortune for them, so I said, "They're not bad. They need a ton of work, but I think I can make something out of them."

She laughed. "You don't have to work that hard for a good price. Like I said, we were gonna toss 'em on the junk heap anyway. They're all yours."

I grinned and held out my hand. "Thanks, I'm going to make something great with them!"

The light in the room shifted and turned the crystal doorknob into a prism that reflected light down onto the table, and that should have been my sign. As my Aunt Addy always says, ain't no such thing as free.

CHAPTER TWO

Both pieces were heavier than I expected, but that was good; sturdy furniture was rare these days. Shelby and I carried the door down and slid it into the back of the truck, then she and Emma went back for the table while I pulled the tie straps out from behind the seat of the truck.

The woman had followed us down and was jangling her keys.

I gave her a half-smile. "You in a hurry?"

She grasped her keys in her hand to quiet them and pulled in a tired breath. "Sorry. It's just been a long week. This was my aunt's house and my friend and I have been here for two weeks sorting through things and gettin' the house ready for sale. I shipped everything I want to keep back to my place and told the realtor to sell whatever was left with the house. I just wanna go home. We're pullin' out as soon as my friend gets back from town."

I clipped one end of the strap to the hook in my bed, then looped it around the crystal doorknob a couple times and laid the other end of the strap beside it.

"Where's home?"

"Virginia."

"Ah. That's not so terrible then," I said. "I'm sorry to hear about your aunt."

She shrugged. "Thanks, but I didn't know her. I was adopted and had never even heard of her until a few weeks ago. She wrote me a letter, telling me she'd been looking for me since I was a baby. It took me a couple of weeks to arrange time off, and by the time I got here, she'd passed." She paused and leaned her elbows on the bed of the truck, looking out over the sloping lawn. The sun was starting to set behind oaks draped in Spanish moss. "I wish I would have known her. I was an only child and my adoptive parents are both gone. This looks like it would have been a great place to spend time. As it is, it was a little creepy the first couple nights. I wish she’d have found me sooner."

I followed her gaze as a breeze lifted a curl off my forehead and cooled the back of my neck. I tried to imagine a life without Shelby or the rest of my family and shuddered. They were my world. "That has to be tough, knowing she was here all the time and you didn't find out until too late."

She nodded. "There were a few boxes of pictures and books in the attic that I'm taking home with me. Maybe I have some family left after all. She was pretty cryptic in her letters." I glanced over her shoulder when the door opened. Shelby and Emma pushed through with the table, Shel walking backwards.

"Folks around here have come to offer their condolences and some have even helped out. I've heard some crazy stories about her." One side of her mouth quirked up. "Everyone says she was sharp as a tack and a real hoot, but a little eccentric."

The girls sat the table down behind the truck as and stood, stretching and bending to work the kinks out.

"Our aunt was a little eccentric, too," Shelby said. "I think it's a good thing. If she was eccentric and—as you say—a hoot, she was probably doing what made her happy and didn't give two shakes of a rat's behind what anybody thought. By the way, I'm Shelby, and this is Emma."

"And I'm Noelle," I said, offering my hand. "Noelle Flynn."

"I'm Tabitha Williams. My friends call me TJ." Her eyes were bright and I could see the same good humor and wit that people claimed her aunt possessed.

The drawer to the table had slid out, and I reached down to shut it. When I did, something caught my eye. I opened it further and pulled out a black velvet bag. TJ's attention was still on the girls so she didn't see it.

"TJ, this was in the drawer." I held up the bag.

"It's probably just more jewelry,” she said, waving it off. “My aunt made all sorts of it and sold her pieces at local craft shows and flea markets."

I loosened the drawstrings on the bag and upended the contents into my hand. Sure enough, four rings fell out. I smiled when I saw them; my aunt had worn one that Uncle Calvin had made for her from a spoon handle. These were a little fancier though. Each was bedazzled with colored stones set into the original swirls in what used to be the end of the spoon handle.

TJ sighed. "Told ya. She had so much jewelry. Don't get me wrong—she was skilled, but it's not really my style. Even if it was, I could wear a new piece every day and not make it through the entire collection in a year." She smiled. "I guess in the scheme of things, it was a better hobby than collecting cats."

Shelby and Emma came closer to look at them.

"Those are really cool!" Emma said, plucking on out of my hand. "I like the green one. Emerald's my birthstone."

Shelby picked up one with pink stones. "I like this one."

They put them on their thumbs and held out their hands, letting the sun catch glint off them.

They say styles repeat every few decades—though so far the 80s have stayed in the past where they belong—but the sixties and seventies were all the rage around Keyhole, so the hippie-style jewelry fit right in.

I examined the remaining two and was pleased to find one with blue stones. The final one had purple ones, which was Rae's favorite color.

Laughing, I turned to TJ. "It looks like you've got buyers if you're willing to sell."

She waved me off. "Just take them. They were in the table, and I gave it to you fair and square. Consider them a bonus, like finding money in the dryer."

That was sweet of her, but I didn't feel right doing it. The rings were obviously sterling, and though the stones were surely fake, just the silver gave them some value. "Nope. I insist. Give me a number."

TJ rolled her eyes. "Fine. Ten bucks each."

Well worth it. I dug in my wallet and handed her two twenties, then slipped the blue ring on my thumb and dropped the other back in the bag.

A green hybrid SUV turned off the road into the driveway and pulled to the front of the house. A tall woman wearing a ball cap and aviators stepped out, smiling but curious as she took the few steps to join us.

"Everybody, this is my friend Moira." Introductions were made again as we loaded the end table and strapped it down.

"TJ was just telling us that you two had an interesting first night in the house," I said.

She raised her brows and huffed. "Did we ever! Creepy noises all night. I told her it was just the house settling, but it wasn't one of my better nights away from home."

I looked back toward the house. I hadn't gotten any weird vibes, but I hadn't really been paying attention, either. All old houses had a certain presence; I was so used to them I tuned it out. Something serious would have set off my senses, and I didn't see any ghosts, so they were probably just imagining things.

"I'm sure. Plus, it was a new place, and then knowing her aunt had just passed ... no doubt it was a creepy situation."

I pulled the tie-downs tight around the table, securing it on its side to the front of the bed, then checked that the door wasn't going to slide out the back.

"Well, I think that'll do it," I said as Emma and Shelby waved to TJ, then argued over shotgun.

TJ smiled and held out her hand. "It was nice to meet you. Drive safe."

I shook her hand, then Moira's, noting that both of them had perfect manicures and were wearing the kind of expensive jeans meant to look fashionably old and holey. I smiled a little inside because I managed to pull off the same look for $3 at the Goodwill. Still, they seemed very nice so if they wanted to blow their money on new jeans that looked old, I wasn’t judging. "Y'all too. Good luck with the pictures and books. I hope you find more family."

"Me, too."

I climbed in the truck and growled when I realized Shelby and Emma were still arguing. "Rock, paper, scissors it and let's go," I said. Thankfully it worked out so that Emma was in front, since she'd been stuck in the back on the way there.

By the time it was settled, TJ had already locked up the house and they were idling, waiting for us to pull out. I waved and hung a left out of the driveway, pointing the truck in the direction of Keyhole Lake. They hung a right, and we took our own opposite ways toward home.

CHAPTER THREE

We hadn't eaten anything but mystery-meat taquitos from a gas station since breakfast that morning, so our bellies were starting to think our throats had been cut. I stopped at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet on our way through Eagle Gap; it was a rare treat because we didn't have one in Keyhole Lake.

There was a large family—they had to be related because the similarities in their features were striking. They all had dark hair and were built like brick shithouses. They each had a plate piled high with food and were laughing and cutting up with each other as the tore their way through it. Even the kids in the group were eating like they hadn't had a meal in a week.

The waitress seated us and we didn't burn any daylight filling our plates. We ate in silence for the first five minutes or so, careful to keep our fingers near our own plates lest we lose one in the feeding frenzy just for reaching for the salt. Shelby was the first to finish and pushed back her chair to make a second trip.

Even though she was almost seventeen and had learned some decent defensive spells over the last several months, I still kept my eye on her. The waitress was carrying a huge tray of drinks to a table of Red-Hats so Shelby took the long way around, which took her past the large family. As she approached, several of them smiled at her, but when she squeezed between them and the tables in the next row over, their smiles faded and the table went silent.

She was past them in a couple of seconds but was almost to the nearest buffet before she turned back to glance at them, then at us. She shrugged, then turned her focus to the food. When she got back, she crinkled her nose.

"Do I have a booger or something?" she asked as she scooped up a bite of fried rice. The scrapes of chairs being pushed back drew our attention before either of us could answer; the family was leaving with full plates still on the table. They threw a wad of cash on the table, gathered their belongings and kids, and left.

I drew my brows together. "Wow, that was weird."

"Right? All I did was walk past 'em." Shel said.

Emma shrugged. "Oh well. The way they were plowin' through the sashimi, I'm kinda glad they left. There wasn't any the last time I was up there, but the dude said he was makin' more." She shoved away from the table. "I'll be back."

I finished my plate and leaned back in my chair, trying to decide if I wanted to make another trip. I shouldn't, but I really wanted to. My little sister knew me well.

"Go ahead," she said, nudging me with her elbow. "You know you want to."

"Fine, you convinced me," I laughed, standing.

After eating enough for six people, we finally waddled back to the truck. "I'm ready for a nap," Emma said. So was I. I'd gotten up at six and the full belly pushed me over the edge. All I could think about was my bed.

I noticed as we approached the truck that the door of the table had slid open, so I pulled some duct tape from behind the seat and taped it shut while the girls adjusted the door a little.

As we were checking to make sure everything else was still secure, a family of three came out of the restaurant. They were driving an old beater parked beside us, and the kid—a coltish girl who was probably twelve or so—stopped beside me.

"Wow, cool door!"

I smiled. "I know. All doors used to be heavy and have knobs like that. They didn't always make them out of cheap metal like they do now."

She pointed to the ground near the back of the truck. "Is that yours?"

I looked down and sure enough, one of Shelby's charm bracelets was shining against the asphalt. She bent down and picked it up, then handed held it out toward the girls, holding it up and looking at the charms as she did.

Her mom came over to us and examined the bracelet, too. "Those are some unusual charms."

I didn't think it was a good idea to explain that several of the little figurines were literally charms, so I just hummed my agreement. Charms were a love Shelby and Aunt Addy had shared, so when Addy passed, Shelby claimed hers as her own.

"Thanks," Shelby said as the girl draped it over her hand.

Her mom huffed out a breath and tried to be nonchalant about adjusting the waistband of her jeans. "C'mon Kirsten. We need to get home. I'm ready for a nap."

I smiled. "I feel the same exact way. I ate enough to feed a small country."

Her lips tipped up into a half-smile. "Lord love a duck, I love these things; I just wish we could get Kirsten to eat. We come up here once every couple months or so as a treat on payday, but she just picks. Her best friend was a little chunky last year—just baby fat, she'da grown out of it—and the mean girls fat-shamed her all year. Kirstin ended up getting in a fight over it, and now neither of them will hardly eat."

I shook my head, remembering how mean kids could be. I was just a little older than she was when I lost my mom, and Olivia—my enemy to this day—and her buddies got their digs in whenever they could. "That sucks. Kids can be cruel."

She frowned. "Yeah they sure can. Well, we better get going. Nice talkin' to you."

"You, too." I leaned around her. "Thanks again, Kirsten!"

"You're welcome." she muttered, distracted, as she walked to the car and climbed into the backseat.

CHAPTER FOUR

We tossed ideas for the door project back and forth for a few minutes, then started talking about finding a shop and thinking of a name. I didn't think I needed a shop yet, but the girls were convinced I should at least start looking. Raeann had been nagging me about it too.

"What about the shop beside the Clip N Curl?" Shelby asked.

I snorted. "Yeah, because I want to be straight in that line of fire every day of my life."

The Clip N Curl was the town's beauty parlor and community meeting place for the exchange of neighborly information. That's the nice way of saying it's the hub of Keyhole Lake's gossip mill. They weren't vicious, but they were creative; being that close to fire was bound to get me burned one way or another.

"You won't be there every day. You said you were doing appointments-only or just opening a couple of days a week, at least in the beginning. It's a good location and you have to admit you don't have to worry about anybody bothering the place. Coralee's there all day every day except Sundays and Mondays, and ain't nobody gonna bother the place as long as she's there," Shelby said.

"Plus you'll be right up the street from Brew. You can get coffee and BS with Raeann whenever you want." Great. Now Emma was on team Make Noelle Crazy. "Besides, Coralee and the girls love you. They won't give you any hassle."

"And you need to think of a name, too," Emma said. "I can make you some really cool business cards. I've already been thinking of designs for you."

I laughed. "Slow down. I'm just getting started. I have the pieces for my very first project in the back. I may be a total flop."

Shelby snorted. "You're not gonna flop. You're always kick butt no matter what you do."

"Well," I said, clearing my throat. "I've been thinking of names and I think I've got it. What do y'all think of Reimagined?"

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds, and I was afraid they were making fun of it back and forth telepathically. It would have been a snap for me to open my mind up and eavesdrop, but I had a strict privacy rule. Besides, this was new for me, and I was still a little unsure. If they thought I was nuts, I didn't want to know.

We'd been driving along an empty strip of road for a good ten miles chatting, but as seems to be the norm with us, the minute we saw a gas-station sign, we all had to pee. I pulled in and the only other car there was parked at the pump; it was the beat-up sedan Kirsten and her parents were driving. I smiled; this was my chance to get her a strawberry milk or something as a thank-you if her folks said it was okay.

I was glad to see the restroom sign inside over a doorway rather than outside pointing around the side of the building. Those sucked—I could never focus because I was too busy watching for spiders and rats, or making sure the cuffs of my pants weren't floating in the ick-water that seemed common to every around-the-side gas station bathroom I'd ever been in.

Shelby was in front of me when we walked through the door and she stopped so fast I plowed right into her. I righted myself and peered around her to see what the problem was.

It took me a second to process what I was seeing and when I did, it made no sense. Kirsten—the girl whose mom said was so weight-conscious that she barely ate—was sitting in the middle of the aisle stuffing moon pies and potato chips in her mouth as fast as she could get them open. Her mom was crying and trying to pull her up from the floor, but she had her foot hooked underneath the ice-cream cooler. Her dad didn't have a clue what to do.

The clerk, an older lady who looked like she ate lemons for dinner and limes for dessert, was standing with her hands on her hips, repeating in her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice that they were going to pay for all of it.

"If they can't, I will," I snapped, scowling at her and pointing to the front of the store. "Zip it and get back up there. You're not doin’ any good standing there runnin' your mouth."

If looks could kill, I'd have been a dead woman, but she snapped her mouth shut and stalked back up the aisle. One problem down. I turned toward Kirsten and knelt down. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

She paused for a minute to look up at me, her face covered in icing and crumbs. "I'm just so hungry all the time! I'm sick of never eating just so they won't make fun of me!" She stuffed another cake in her mouth.

That both broke my heart and pissed me off, then confused me. I glanced at her mom, who'd given up once the store clerk had gone away. "Did something happen?"

She shook her head, still crying. "No. We were driving down the road and when she saw the sign, she begged us to pull in. We did, and she came straight to this aisle, and has been doing this for a good five minutes."

I looked at the pile of wrappers. Kirsten leaned back against the shelves and continued to chew, though the frenzy appeared to be over. She groaned. "That was so good," she said, swallowing, then running her tongue over her teeth to get the last of the frosting.

She closed her eyes for a second, apparently savoring the last remnants. When she opened them again, she scrunched her brows together and looked at her mom and Dad, then at me, Shelby, and Emma. "What?"

Then she looked at the wrappers in the floor and licked her lips, apparently noticing the lingering flavors on her tongue. Her eyes got huge and she bit her lip. "Did I ... was that all me? I'm gonna be sick."

She shoved to her feet, but Shelby caught her before she could rush past us to the bathroom. I felt magic swirl through the air as she took her by the arms and looked in her eyes. "Listen to me. You're gonna quit worryin' about what those girls at school say and just be yourself. As a matter of fact, the next time one of 'em says a word, you're gonna slap—" I elbowed her before she could finish that thought. She glared at me, but changed directions. "Your hand on the table and tell her to go fly a kite," she finished.

The girl's pupils pulsed, and she nodded before turning to help her mom pick up the wrappers.

I wasn't pleased with the fact that Shelby had used her power of persuasion, but there wasn't much I could do about it, and she hadn't done any harm. I could hardly fault her for charming a tortured young girl into "being herself."

Kirsten cringed at the number of wrappers. "I'm sorry, Mama. Do we have enough money?"

Her mama tried to put on a confident face. "Of course we do, sugar. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Just go in and get cleaned up and I'll take care of it."

I held up my hand. "Actually, it's my treat. I owe Kirsten one for finding the bracelet, anyway. Y'all just have a safe trip home."

I went to the register and handed Ms. Sourpuss my credit card. "Put their stuff, gas included, on there." She scowled and I narrowed my eyes and let a bit of my own persuasion leak into my voice. In for a penny, I reckoned. "And when they leave, you'll give 'em a real, honest-to-god smile and tell them to have a nice day. And mean it."

By the time I came out of the ladies' room, Kirsten and her family were gone and the mess was cleaned up. The cashier cast me a look that would have turned me to stone if all it took was intent, but I ignored her as I thought about Kirsten's behavior.

The girls had beaten me back to the truck and were sharing a bag of Twizzlers when I climbed in.

"You gotta be kidding me," I said, scrunching my nose. "You just ate enough for a week a half-hour ago and now you're eating again?"

Shelby shrugged. "Growing girls."

I snorted. "Yeah. Give it a few years and growing isn't such a great concept anymore."

One of her charms caught the sunlight, bringing my thoughts back to what had just happened.

"Is there any chance one your charms made her do that?"

"I thought about that. There are a couple of confidence boosters, and at least three that guard against negative energy." She shrugged. "I guess maybe if she touched both of them together it could have busted her give-a-damn for a little while. Since it wore off, that's probably the easiest explanation."

That made more sense than anything I could think of.

CHAPTER FIVE

It was dark by the time we made it home, and the relief I felt rolling up our winding driveway was about enough to make me cry. As the headlights shone briefly of one white fencepost to the next, it was like they were counting down the feet to my bed. Shelby and Emma were both sleeping, so I hadn't even had any company since about ten minutes after we pulled out of the gas station.

When we pulled up in front of the house, I was glad to see the barn lights on; Hunter and Cody, my boyfriend and Shelby's respectively, had already brought the horses in and fed. Awesome—one less thing to do.

I backed the truck up to the barn and shut it off, then shook the girls awake. "We're home, brats. Thanks for the company!" Emma yawned, and Shelby blinked her eyes and smacked her lips.

"Wow, I'm so sorry, Noe. I didn't mean to fall asleep," Shelby said.

I waved her off. "Don't worry about it, sugar. It was a long day and you had a full belly. Believe me, if possible, I'd have been right back there with you."

The guys were sitting on the porch and came to greet us.

"Hey, you," Hunter said, pulling me in for a quick peck. "How'd the pickin' go?"

I groaned and gave him a rundown of the day.

"You should have seen the first house," Emma said.

Shelby shuddered. "It was nasty. In the end though, the door and end table were free and if the finished piece comes out half as awesome as I'm picturing it, it'll make it worth our time."

"Then let's get it unloaded. Are you girls hungry?" Cody asked.

"Nah, we ate at the Peking Sun on our way outta Eagle Gap," Emma said.

"Nice," Hunter teased. "You all stuffed your faces with sushi while Cody and I slaved away here at the farm, surviving on whatever was in the fridge."

"Pht. Yeah, right," Addy, my living-impaired aunt, said as she popped in beside me, then peered into the truck bed. "It took y'all fifteen minutes to feed. The rest of the time you watched football while you ate chicken wings and nachos."

She floated over and looked in the back of the truck. "Find anything good?"

I released the tie straps and pulled them from around the door and dresser, then Hunter and Cody carried them from the back of the truck to a birthing stall that I'd converted into a temporary workspace.

Since the top of the table had been pushed against the front of the bed, it was still pretty dusty, so I brushed it off, then stood back with the rest of them.

"Okaaayy," Addy drawled staring at our goods with her lips shoved to the side. "You bought a door and an end table."

I released a long-suffering sigh. They just didn't have the artistic vision the girls and I did.

Emma moved over and pushed the table against the door like it had been the first time we'd seen it, then explained our idea.

"Oh, Cody said, looking at Hunter and rolling his eyes. "Of course. It's crystal-clear now," he snarked.

Hunter, being older and having more experience protecting his own hide, threw Cody right under the bus. "I sorta see where you're going with it, honey,"—he had no clue—"and I'm sure it's gonna be beautiful when you're finished."

Shelby laughed and pushed Cody. "See? Listen to your bro-in-arms there. He just guaranteed himself a good-night kiss if he doesn't screw it up between now and then." She turned to Addy. They said the house freaked them out, but you would have loved it. It was built a lot like ours, but was more on the fancy side than the farmy side."

She pushed a strand of hair back from her face and the light from the barn caught her ring. Addy swept closer to it. "Now that brings back some memories! Where'd ya find that at?"

Emma and I held out our hands, thumbs up, so Addy could see ours, too. "They were in the drawer in the end table." I told her the story, and her eyes sparkled with that faraway look she got when she thought of our Uncle Calvin.

"Cal gave me my spoon ring as a promise, the big dope. We'd spent the day at the lake and he'd found it in the sand. We were both a little sunburned and we'd snitched a bottle of my daddy's blackberry wine from the cellar." She smiled and sighed. "He got down on one knee and asked me if I'd consider sayin' yes if he ever worked up the nerve propose to me."

That brought tears to my eyes; my Uncle Cal had been one of the kindest, goofiest men I'd ever met. He'd led a three-year-old Shelby around on a pony for hours and answered my endless questions about everything to do with the farm. He'd been sitting on the porch with a shotgun when Benny Smythe picked me up for senior prom, and he'd taken me fishin' when I'd get lonely for my folks or had some other, lesser disaster making me unhappy.

He'd died several years ago, and unlike Addy, who'd shown up a couple weeks post-funeral, we hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. Nobody knew exactly how the ghost thing worked since death was as individual as birth, but we reckoned some get the chance and some don’t. Addy, Belle, Angus, and our other town ghosts just say they woke up dead and felt like they had the choice to hang around or cross over.

Maybe it's not an option for everyone, or maybe most folks just choose to go. I think it's the first.

At any rate, thinking about him was still bittersweet for all of us, but I wouldn't trade those memories for anything in the world. I was grateful that at least Addy'd been given the option. Otherwise, I’d be truly lost.

CHAPTER SIX

Even though I stayed up late baking, I rolled out of bed at five to help Rae open Brew4U. The kitschy little shop was taking off, and the faster word spread, the more pastries she needed. She'd opened the shop several months before, and though we figured it would do well, neither of us expected the near-instant influx of business. She'd scraped by and poured nearly every cent of profit into paying back her business loan and was almost free and clear.

Though I'm handy with most spells, except herbs and potions—that was Rae's thing—I'm a kitchen witch at heart. When I'm baking, the rest of the world disappears and there's nothing left but peace and magic. Just as Rae's coffee was so successful because she poured her magic into the blends, my pastries were a hit because of the happiness and magic kneaded or mixed into everything I made.

Don't get me wrong though. We weren't drugging unsuspecting customers; Rae had a menu much like any other specialty shop that offered drinks such as Lively Lattes, Calming Cappuccinos (decaf, obviously), and a wide variety of other blends she would add, based upon what was ordered. And of course she offered the standard varieties, too.

My pastries weren't anything nearly as complicated. They just tasted amazing—if sales were any indication—and maybe passed on a bit of the happiness I felt when I was making them, too.

At any rate, she was selling them almost faster than I could make them and insisted that I keep every penny of the sales. The more popular the shop became, the more requests for special, large-batch orders I received from the public, but I wasn't interested in opening full-time. I'd considered it, but didn't want to turn something I loved into something I had to do. Thus, the concept for Reimagined was born.

So, getting back on topic, when my alarm clock went off at five, I hit snooze and buried my head under my pillow for another seven minutes of sleep. Yes, I realize seven minutes seems random, but it was the factory setting on my phone, so I just went with it. At 5:07, though, I rolled out, puffy-eyed and cranky. That was my typical morning self until I'd caffeinated no matter what time I rolled out, though.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and one of Rae's new Brew t-shirts and shuffled to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and apply some eyeliner. That was as beautified as I was going to get. I slipped into my sneakers and pulled my hair into a ponytail on my way out the door.

When I stumbled into Brew ten minutes later carrying five boxes of muffins, turnovers, and danishes, Rae was already there setting up the register. She slid a cup of drinking-temperature Lively Latte into my hand and sat down beside me with her own cup at the end of the shiny black, faux-marble coffee bar.

She flipped the top box open and pilfered a pastry. "Ooh. You made raspberry danishes," she said as she pulled out two and handed me one.

I took a big sip of my coffee and smiled at her enthusiasm. She was one of those freakish people who woke up chipper no matter how little sleep she got or how early it was. Since it was really her only flaw, I overlooked it. "Yeah, I hadn't made them in a while and I know they're your favorite."

She bit into it and groaned. I tipped up a corner of my mouth. "Who needs a man, right?"

I teased her a little because to say she had bad luck with men was the understatement of the century. Her most recent boyfriend had literally tried to kill us, so she's sworn off the opposite sex—with the exception of an occasional date with a nice doctor she’d met—in favor of girls' nights out and pastries. Fortunately, high metabolisms run in our families or she'd be in trouble. For that matter, so would I.

"No kidding. At least I know this isn't going to blow up or shove me out of an airplane." She took another couple bites and we enjoyed our treat in the semi-dark, using just the light of the stand-up coolers so that people wouldn't stand outside and stare in, waiting for us to open. The customers are awesome, but not before I've had coffee.

"So how'd the treasure hunt go yesterday?"

"Good, eventually. It took us three sales before we found it, though." I thought of the ring and pulled my purse toward me. "I even got you something!"

I pulled out the bag and slid it toward her. When she dumped it out, she laughed. "Other than the one Addy always wore, I haven't seen one of these in ages!" She slipped it on her thumb, then held it out. "I love the stones. I've never seen one with them added. And they're purple!"

I held mine out. "Yeah, there were four of them. Mine's blue, Shelby took the pink one, and Emma got a green one. They were in the drawer of an end table I bought."

Looking past our hands to the clock, I noticed it was a quarter ’til six, so I waved my hand sideways to open the pastry case, floated the pastries from the boxes into the case, then closed it. I wasn't usually lazy about stuff like that, but I just didn't feel like doing it manually.

"You ready for the masses?" I asked Rae.

"Almost." She did a quick final count of the drawer, wiped imaginary crumbs off the counter, and double-checked the condiment station. Once she was satisfied all was well, she flipped over the sign and turned on the lights.

We hustled all morning and before I knew it, it was past lunch. Brew was only open 'til four, so I usually left right after the lunch rush. I was relieved to see that there were enough pastries left to get us through the next day. Good, because I really didn't feel like baking again that night.

While I was divvying the tips, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I got that weird feeling that somebody was watching me. I turned around casually and looked at the few remaining customers from my peripheral while I counted the bills. There was a well-kept lady of about forty in a red dress sipping from a cappuccino cup and pretending to read something on her phone. I say pretending because I caught her staring at me once she was sure—or thought she was sure—I wasn't paying any attention to her.

She didn't look like a weirdo or anything, but I'm probably not the best judge of that. I was pretty sure she wasn't a witch, though I couldn't be 100 percent certain from that distance.

She looked back down at her phone and didn't glance my way again, so I shrugged and figured she was just people watching. I did it all the time. I handed Rae her half of the tips.

My phone chimed with a text as I was gathering my things and I was surprised to see Camille's name pop up. Camille's a bit complicated to explain. She started out as Shelby's MOC, or Magical Oversight Committee, case worker. Shelby's powers had apparently been blocked but had been breaking through sporadically, and when that happened, things had tended to blow up. Not big things—for example, a couple of times she waved her hand to the side and dishes flew off tables twenty feet away.

So, though not physically catastrophic, it didn't bode well for social appearances. Even though most folks had been gossiping about the witch status of my family for decades, not many knew for sure. And we wanted to keep it that way. So did the Council of Witches, and they didn't mess around. They'd strip you of your powers faster than you could say "Bob's your uncle" and there wasn't jack you could do about it.

They weren't heartless though. Unless things got completely out of hand, they were willing to offer help; thus, the MOC was created. That's how we first met Camille. In the beginning, she was about as friendly as a grizzly with a thorn in its paw, but she came around. We later learned that during that period, she'd been going through a nasty custody battle for Emma.

I got it, but it still took some time for us to warm up to her because she had given me so many verbal face punches about how I raised Shelby before she got over herself. I was, in essence, a single mom working two jobs. It's not like I could have hired a babysitter for my sixteen-year-old sister, not that I could have afforded one to begin with.

At any rate, when they'd moved to Keyhole Lake several months ago and Shelby met Emma at school, that pretty much sealed the deal. The weird thing was that we didn't even know Camille had a kid, much less that Shelby was friends with her, for almost a month after they moved there. We found out when Camille showed up for a lesson with Shelby, and Emma was at the farm.

All the smart-ass comments that she'd made to me about not keeping track of Shelby rushed to the front of my mind, but for once in my life, my brain actually filtered my thoughts before just letting them fall out of my mouth. I was glad they had, because it would have been awkward to be on bad terms with both Shelby's counselor and her best friend's mom.

Yet another thing to love about small towns.

The reason I was surprised to see her number was that she'd been out of town for almost three months on a case. Emma'd been staying with us since she came home from her dad's, but we'd heard very little from Camille, and when she did manage to call, it was always brief and never informative. Just, "I'll be home when I can get there."

I unlocked my phone and pulled up the message.

C: Finally back in town. Emma's not answering her phone.

N: They're out on the horses. She probably has it in the saddle bag.

C: Oh. Wanna grab lunch?

N: Sure. Meet you at the Cat in ten?

C: Great.

By the Cat, I meant the Cheshire Cat, a little pub not too far from the shop that served the coldest beer and the best sandwiches in town.

I turned to Rae, who was checking the specialty blends.

"Camille just texted and wants to have lunch at the Cat. Can you get away?"

"Nah," she said. "Angel has an appointment at the community college this afternoon so I'm stuck. Have fun, though. And call me with any details if she finally decides to clue us in on what she's been doing for the last three months."

"Right?" I said. "I'm dying to know. Surely it can't be that top secret. I mean, c'mon. Aside from people getting brained with toilet tank lids, nothing ever happens here, and that only happened once."

"Just let me know. The suspense is killing me." We'd been speculating for almost three months about where there was a magical emergency bad enough to keep her away from home almost the entire summer.

"Will do. Lemme know if the ladies have anything interesting to share." I snorted. Like leaving Clip N Curl without some form of information that you neither needed nor wanted to know was an option.

I pointed the truck in that direction and by the time I got there, Camille's sleek little Audi was already in the lot. I pulled in beside it and grabbed my purse before heading inside. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, Camille was waving to me from a booth in the back.

I squinted, then blinked because I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Camille was one of the most put-together women I'd ever met. Even if she showed up at our house at three in the morning, she was dressed to the nines without a hair out of place. Catch her in the middle of the day and she'd give any runway model a run for her money.

The woman in front of me was anything but. She was dressed down a little in jeans and a silk blouse, but that's not what caught my eye. She had dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks were gaunt, and her hair was pulled into a messy twist.

In short, for the first time since I'd met her, Camille looked like hammered crap.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I tried to hide my shock, but subtlety's never really been a strong suit of mine. I was better than Shelby, but that wasn't saying much.

"Wow, sugar, you look like you been rode hard and put away wet. What happened to you?"

She arched a brow and tilted her mouth up into a ghost smile while she turned the near-empty beer glass in her hands. "Tell me what you really think, why don’t you?" She furrowed her brow just a little bit. "I'm so glad to see you, and to just be home." She said it so softly I almost didn't hear her.

I slid into the booth across from her and motioned for Monty to bring me my usual. Since he'd already been pouring it, it was in my hand ten seconds later. Once he walked away, I evaluated her a little closer. Overall, she looked like she was running on empty.

"It's good to see you, too. But seriously, are you okay?"

She nodded and even that seemed to take effort. "I will be. I just need to get some sleep and a few decent meals in me. A couple days home and I'll be right as rain."

"Can you at least say where you've been? If I had to guess, it'd be some third-world country where they restricted access to the two hundred items in your beauty regimen," I tried to joke. She was a maniac about taking care of her skin. Said it was never too early to start fighting the aging process.

She smiled a real, honest-to-god smile and it took a little of the haggard look away.

"See, I knew I was right to text you. I feel better already. I can't tell you where I was at, but trust me when I say it was not a fun case to be on. I always wanted more action and felt like they were punishing me by assigning me the babysitting job with the MOC, but now I'm perfectly happy to go back to whiny teenage witches and bitchy older sisters."

I grinned at the jab. "See, I knew you loved us and just didn't know it."

"Oh, I know it now," she said as Monty sat food in front of us.

"We didn't even order yet," I said.

Monty grunted. "Yeah, like you ever order anything other than exactly what's in front of you. Bacon cheeseburger, blue cheese, hold the onions, extra pickles, crispy fries, and a side of ranch."

I scowled and he put his hands on his hips. "What, for the first time in a dozen years, you were gonna change it up?" I'd known Monty since I was just a kid. Uncle Calvin used to bring me and Shelby here for lunch when we'd come to town for feed on Saturdays, and Monty always put ketchup smiley faces on our burgers.

"Maybe I wanted Swiss."

"Now you're just bein' ornery. Eat your burger before it gets cold, Miss Priss." He ruffled my hair like I was still ten and lumbered back behind the bar.

And another benefit of living in a small town, except this time I'm not being sarcastic.

Camille had ordered a burger and fries too, and I quirked up a brow. "Should I film this?"

She shrugged. "No need. I plan on doing a lot more of it. I learned this week that tomorrow ain't guaranteed, honey, and if I want a burger, I'm gonna eat a burger." There were so many things wrong with that sentence that I didn't even know where to start.

Camille didn't eat burgers because they were fattening and unhealthy. Same went for ice cream, cake, and pretty much anything that came out of my oven. She'd never so much as tasted one of my pastries even though she'd stood right there and watched me ice them. Bread was a stretch for her. And I'd never heard her use slang or improper grammar, ever.

Cultured, put-together, and reserved, she was the epitome of southern lady. I'd never seen the red-meat-eating, beer-swilling redneck girl sitting across from me in my life. I smiled as burger juices ran down her arms and wondered if this was Camille 2.0 or if she'd just had a temporary lapse in sanity.

I tore into my fries—unlike the person who usually lives in the body sitting across from me, I've never had anything against a good plate of fried food. I ate while I waited for her to continue. Somehow, this didn't feel like one of those things you could rush. She'd tell me about it in her own good time.

When she'd downed half the burger and most of the fries, she pulled her napkin from her lap and leaned back, looking much better than she had just thirty minutes before.

"So now are you going to tell me what's been going on?"

She started fiddling with her napkin, pressing it flat, then folding it. "I'm not really allowed to talk about it."

"Yeah, so you've been saying for the last three months."

"And so I'm gonna have to say again." She wadded the napkin up and tossed it on her plate. "Look, I'm not allowed to talk about it, and to be honest, I don't want to talk about it. It was a crap couple months and I'm not even sure I succeeded. So, why don't you catch me up on what's been going on around here?"

I drew my brows together for a minute, but decided to let that particular dog lie for now. She looked whipped and cheering her up seemed the better thing to do than argue with her. At some point, we were going to have to discuss Shelby's testing too, but that could wait until she wasn't in some sort of existential crisis. Eyeing the remains of a plate of food she wouldn't have touched three months ago, I thought it might even be an existential transformation. I hoped so.

"Well, Anna Mae got her odds-n-ends shop open. She calls it Things Remembered. I went yesterday and got the first couple of pieces of furniture for my new business, and have decided to name it Reimagined, I think. Oh, and Coralee says Ms. Schumacher is hangin' her hooker panties on her clothesline again." That got a smile. "I told you about Max Wheeler dyin', and besides that, things are about the same as they were when you left."

"You have no idea what a good thing that is," she said. "We all sit around and hope for change, or complain this town's too backwoods, but it beats a big city hands-down. Folks know each other and help each other. Shoot, most of 'em don't even lock their doors at night. Once that's gone, there's no getting it back."

I listened and watched her face. She wasn't just talkin' to hear her head roar; her words were targeted. "I suppose you're right. When I was in Atlanta for college, I felt like I lived in a cage. I was never so glad to be home in my life as I was the day after I graduated and knew I didn't have to go back."

"These little towns, though. They're different. They're still mostly good, or at least when they're bad, it's an honest bad," she said. "There's always at least a touch of order and manners, even when it comes to crime."

"Yeah, that's right, for the most part anyway," I agreed. "Max Wheeler'd probably disagree." Max had been killed when somebody bashed his head in with a toilet tank lid a month or so before.

"So," she said, sitting up straighter and pushing the shadows from her face. "Where did you go to find your first two pieces?"

"Eagle Gap," I replied. "The first two places we went were a bust, then Emma found a great door and end table at the third place right when Shelby and I were ready to give up the ghost."

Her eyes snapped to me. "Eagle Gap? You took Emma to Eagle Gap?"

"Uh ... yeah," I said, bewildered. She was looking at me like I'd offered her kid up as a virgin sacrifice. "Was I not supposed to?"

She took a deep breath and raked her fingers through her hair. "No. No, it's fine. Sorry. I guess I'm just worn to the bone. I feel like one big bundle of nerves. What did you think of the place?"

My mind drifted back to the family at the restaurant, and, of course, Kirsten. "It was okay. Weird, though."

"Weird how?" she said as she dunked her fry in ranch dressing. I had to give her credit for going whole-hog on the food thing but I was still having problems wrapping my head around that.

"Just weird." I described both incidents to her and she drew her eyebrows together in thought.

"The incident with the girl could have been exactly what y'all came up with." I was a little worried that she'd be upset that Shelby had used her persuasion, but I figured if anything came of it, it was better to have it out sooner rather than later.

She drained her beer and stood to go, and I did the same.

"Why don't we get together for girls' night tomorrow night? You get some rest tonight, hang out with Em, then we'll go to Fancy's and forget about things for a while."

We had what we called Ms. Mondays: Me, Raeann, and Anna Mae—the awesome widow of the meanest man ever to drop dead in the county—were the core group, but there were often a few extras, too. Oh, and Addy and Cheri Lynn, a sweet ghost who was an exotic dancer in life, usually went, too. I always asked Camille, and she always said no, but if ever somebody looked like they could use a couple of drinks and some chill time, it was her.

She pinched her lips together for a second then gave a decisive nod. "You know what? I'd love to. What time?" Well color me shocked.

"Eight."

"See you then!"

The guys were night fishin’, so I went home and fed the horses, then curled up for a quiet me-time night of Netflix and a face mask.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I took the next morning off to run errands. We were about out of food and I needed to grab some sandpaper so I could start working on the door and table.

I also had to pick up Justin, an awesome kid that I was fostering, at my friend Bobbie Sue's restaurant that afternoon. The Clip N Curl was on my way, and I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as I looked at the sparkling windows of the storefront beside it. Coralee had convinced the previous owner to give her a key before he left so she could keep them clean. In her words, "there wasn't goin' to be no abandoned, trashy-lookin' dump draggin' down the appearance of her establishment."

Biting my lip, I made a last-minute decision and whipped into a parking place in front of it, then climbed out and put my hands on the glass and peered in.

It had sat empty for over a year, since Hank and his team of goons had run the poor man who owned it out of town because he was gay. The girls at the shop had been devastated because he was a good neighbor. The fact that he'd made the best fried baloney sandwiches on the planet helped some, too.

They'd gone so far as to try to find him when Hank finally got what was coming to him, but the number in the window always went to voicemail, the private number he'd given them had been disconnected, and the Christmas card they'd sent him had been returned unopened. Not that any of us could blame him for cutting ties, but the girls still mooned over those sandwiches and were a little hurt that he ignored them.

The inside was simple—the only thing in it was an L-shaped glass display case with an old-school cash register sitting on it, and a stand-up drink cooler. The turquoise indoor/outdoor carpet on the floor was stained, but that was an easy fix. I wouldn't have that color even if it were brand-new. There were a couple of doors leading off the parts unknown, too.

I took a deep breath and called the number on the sign in the window, but it went to a generic voice mail. I left my info but didn't expect a call back that day since it was Sunday. The devil on my shoulder pushed my chin toward Coralee's. Now that I was there, I really wanted to check it out. I pursed my lips together while the angel on my other shoulder argued the wrongness of quasi-breaking and entering with the little devil.

It was a short-lived debate, and in a matter of five minutes, Coralee was unlocking the door for me, Alyse peering over her boss’s shoulder. It wasn't that she didn't trust me with the key; I think her goal was to sell me on the place, because a month or so before, a guy from Atlanta had been in town asking about suitable places for an exotic pet store.

She'd taken the sign out of the window once she'd gotten wind of it and had conveniently forgotten to put it back in until recently, when I'd told her I was thinking about opening up a shop.

She pushed the door open and it snagged on the carpet. I wrinkled my nose at the musty smell and fanned the door after I smoothed the rug. "Wow. It smells like mold and old baloney in here."

Coralee scowled at me, but it lost some of its weight because she was trying not to breathe through her nose, either. "Well what do you expect it to smell like? It was a sandwich shop and it's been locked up for months. Ain't nothin' some vinegar and elbow grease won't take care of." Vinegar was her go-to solution for every household chore, but she wasn't wrong.

I motioned toward the doors. "Where do those go to?"

She shrugged. "How would I know? I've only got permission to clean the windows, not snoop through the building."

Yeah, because she'd never snoop. I snorted. "Yeah, all right. So where do they go?"

"Not that I know, but I'd guess that one," she waved to the door in the rear, "leads to a kitchen and might have some cooking equipment left in it. And that one"—she pointed to the one on the left wall—"probably leads to an office and some storage rooms that might still have some shelves. Oh, and you may get lucky and find a really nice desk and office chair, too."

I looked at her out the corner of my eye. "Uh-huh. Well let's go see how accurate your guesses are."

Miracle of miracles, they were dead-on. The back room was spacious and had obviously been the kitchen. A stainless-steel counter with shelving underneath ran almost the length of one wall, with a sink cut out in the middle. A gas stove and oven complete with a hood vent stood at the far end and a stand mixer, a microwave, and a commercial sandwich press sat on the counter.

Coralee was smiling as Alyse and I checked inside the cabinets installed above the table. There wasn't much in them aside from some Solo cups and Styrofoam to-go boxes, a few odd utensils, and several jars of pickles and mustard. Everything was dusty, but appeared in near-new condition.

We wandered back into the front then through the side doors, and sure as God made little green apples, she was right about what was there, too. Amazing what a good guesser she was—insert eye roll. There was a ton of shelving in two of the rooms. I could move most of those into the public room to hold smaller items, and the two storage rooms would be great for working in.

Finally, the office was just as she'd described. The desk was an antique, with fancy scroll around the edges and the chair was one of those nice, ergonomic ones. That didn't matter much to me because I wasn't planning on doing much sitting, but it was nice that the room was already set up for when I did need to use it.

"Wow," Alyse said. "It's like this place was designed just for you, Noe. Kitchen and workspace. You could work on your projects in here and do your baking back there. That way, you wouldn't have to rush between the house and work in order to accomplish both."

I was starting to get a little excited, and Coralee was smiling like the cat that caught the mouse. She knew I was on the line; now all she had to do was set the hook. "I bet you could get it for a song, seein' as how it's been empty for so long. He apparently ain't interested in comin' back, so this is just a tax liability for him."

I held up a hand. "All right, already. I'll call about it." When she allowed the grin to spread over her face, I said, "Don't get all excited yet. We don't even know if he's interested in renting the place, or if I can afford it if he is. I'm not tying myself to a place that costs more than I'll make."

"Sure, sure," she said, but the smile didn't leave her face. "But you'll call about it? Look how good Ana Mae's doin' already."

Ana Mae had opened up her shop right down the street with some of the money she'd gotten when Hank died and the little odds-n-ends shop had taken off almost from the moment she'd opened the doors.

"You'll be all the rage with the tourists, and if your creations are half as good as your baking, you'll hit the jackpot with the locals, too. Ain't nowhere to get what you're offerin' in all of Keyhole," Alyse said, her eyes sparkling.

My mind was whirling as we entered the last room—another small storage area. I was already imaging the sign I wanted in the front window and wondering if the storage rooms, which ran parallel to the main room and kitchen, could be opened up into one big area. I tamped down my enthusiasm, reminding myself that it was probably out of my price range.

"I'll call and check. That's all I'm promising."

Belle, the former owner and current resident ghost of Clip N Curl, floated through the wall, scowling. "Coralee, you got folks wanderin' into the shop and there's nobody tendin' the place. In my day—"

Coralee cut her off, scowling. "In your day, folks just came in pretty as you please and waited 'til you got back from lunch. Same thing goes for now. They can hold their horses for a minute. ’Sides, we were just leavin'."

"Well while I'm here," Belle said, turning to me, "what do you think of the place? Not bad, huh?"

"Nope," I said. "I think it'll do just fine. I'm not sure I'm ready for a shop yet, or if I can afford the place. I won't be makin' much in the beginning and if he wants much for rent, I'm not gonna paint myself into a corner."

She nodded. "That's smart of ya, girl. But I think you're gonna do just fine." Belle could be cantankerous and was definitely set in her ways, but there was no denying she cared for us all.

We'd made our way back into the front room before I thought of something. "Coralee, you have a basement, don't you?"

"I do," she answered.

"So does Raeann. I didn't see a door to one here."

"Oh," she said, dropping all pretense of innocence, "it's in the kitchen. There's some old furniture and whatnot down there but it's mostly empty."

I thought for a minute, then remembered the door. I'd assumed it was a pantry but when I thought about the layout of the place, it was situated in the same spot as the one in Brew4U.

"Okay, well if you wanna leave me the key, I'll check it out then lock up behind me and drop the key off when I leave. I have to go get Justin in a few minutes anyway."

She handed me the key and hurried back over to her place. Once she was gone, I wandered back through the place without the pressure of her presence. I love her to death, but she throws off some serious energy and it's distracting. I don't know how she manages to even sleep, but I suspect her special brownies and the oregano she grows behind her house help.

As I pulled open the door to the basement, I caught a whisper of movement out of the corner of my eye and the hair on my arms stood up. I whirled around but saw nothing, and the cold chill went away. Probably just a draft.

I reached for the light cord, then realized what I'd just thought. That was the same line every dimwit used when they got an otherworldly warning before going into a dark, damp basement. You know, right before the demon or the ax murderer gets them.

I don't put much stock in demons and ax murderers aren't exactly common around either, but that's probably what every person ever attacked by one of the two said. I summoned a small light orb and paid extra attention as I navigated to rickety stairs.

When I was about halfway down, the dusty bulb crackled and went out, leaving the basement below me pitch black. I beat a hasty retreat back up the stairs. A case of the willies and the light going out? Nope, I can take a hint.

I strode across the room toward the front door, thankful to be back in the light. Three feet from the exit, I sensed something behind me and caught another glimpse of movement in the window.

Bolting through the front door, I pulled it shut and locked it, swearing I'd never darken the doorway again. At least until Rae was with me.

Angus, another of Keyhole Lake's non-corporeal citizens, floated across the town square. As in life, he had a few days' stubble, his too-large suit was worn and rumpled, and his fedora sat at a jaunty angle. Unlike in life, he wasn't carrying a 40-ouncer in a paper bag.

His face lit up and he held up a hand in greeting. "How goes it, Noelle?"

"Goin' great, Angus. How 'bout you?" Angus was one of the sweetest, most generous people you'd ever meet, both before and after his living status changed. He may have been three sheets to the wind half the time, but he was always ready to lend a helping hand or offer a sympathetic ear.

"Good, good," he said, peering over my shoulder into the window of the shop. I narrowed my eyes.

"Say, you don't by chance see anything in there, do you?" I was about half-afraid to turn around and look. Yeah, big, bad witch, blah, blah, blah. Regardless of what most people think, regular magic doesn't do much against things that go bump in the night. That kind of magic takes some prep.

He furrowed his brow and floated through the window, then back to me. "Nope. Nuttin' in there 'ceptin' some dust bunnies, but I don't reckon you need to worry much about them. They seem pretty harmless." He gave me a toothy grin and I rolled my eyes.

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Smarty Pants. I'll be sure to start packin' my feather duster in my purse along with my 9 mil. I'll have you know I was just going to check out the basement and got a serious case of the heebie-jeebies."

Once again, he floated through the glass, back through the back door, and in just a few seconds, came up through the concrete of the sidewalk. "Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Checked all the way through. Didn't see a soul, living or dead."

I shrugged. "Thanks for looking, then."

"No problem, honey. Is Addy at the farm?"

"Far as I know," I told him, still watching for some movement.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna pop out there. I need to ask her about somethin'. You sure you're okay?"

I smiled at him. "I'm fine. Just letting my imagination get the better of me. You go on."

"Alrighty. You have a good day."

"Yeah, you too, Angus," I said as I rubbed my chin and glanced back into the storefront one more time before stepping over to the Clip N Curl to return the key. I didn't usually get weirded out for no reason. My gaze shifted to a reflection in the glass. Standing across the street a couple of blocks behind me, staring right at me, was the same woman I'd seen in Brew that morning.

I twisted around, but she diverted her face and scurried up the street. I started to follow her, but a school bus passed between us and she was gone.

CHAPTER NINE

As soon as the bus passed, I rushed across the street, barely stopping to look before I ran. When I made it to the place where I'd seen her, I looked every direction and even checked out the nearby stores, but it was like she'd disappeared into thin air.

I tried to remember the expression on her face, but she was simply too far away. The worst part was that she looked vaguely familiar and I felt like I should know her. I took a deep breath and pushed it to the back of my mind. Maybe my subconscious would chew on it and come up with something. Meanwhile, I needed to get Justin.

Bobbie Sue's was just up the street, so I made my way back to my truck, still keeping an eye out for my stalker chick, though I didn't figure I'd see her. Apparently, she was willing to be seen, but had no interest in being caught. She didn't know me if she thought I'd just give up after I'd busted her watching me twice, but she'd keep for now.

I'd worked at Bobbie Sue's BBQ for over four years and still filled in there on occasion. She only had two full-time waitresses, so filling in there a night or two a week helped us all out. They got nights off and I got a little walking-around money. The income from my pastries was enough to cover my bills, but barely.

Several months before, I'd gotten a windfall when Hank, our crooked sheriff and all-around SOB, was kind enough to keel over dead in his coleslaw—with a little help—right in that very restaurant, but I was hoarding it to get my business going. It wasn't like that was ever going to happen to me again, so I was making the most of every dollar. I wasn't going to nickel-and-dime it on going to the movies or paying the light bill when I was perfectly capable of working.

The first time I met Justin, he stole my wallet. At first, I'd been determined to catch the little miscreant and put a boot in his butt, but when I finally got my hands on him and learned his story, I ended up moving him in with me instead. And doling out a little justice, witch-style, to his Mommy-Dearest foster mom.

As much as he'd grown on me, I wasn't equipped to give a nine-year-old a proper raising, so I was easing him into a life with Bobbie Sue and her hubby Earl. They'd tried desperately for years to have kids but it just wasn't in the cards. The way I saw it, it was a no-brainer situation. They'd make great parents and Justin was a good kid who needed a stable home. The more time they spent together, the more peas-and-carrots they became.

It was just a matter of making it formal—Bobbie Sue and Earl had applied for adoption, but it was a process. Their final home visit was coming up, and I was sure—with a little nudging from the local sheriff, a.k.a. Hunter—the adoption would go off without a hitch.

'Til then, and probably forever, we'd decided to kid-share. Another win-win-win, especially for Justin. Between the horses, pool, and obnoxious talking donkey at my place, and every redneck toy imaginable at Bobbie Sue and Earl's, he was in hog heaven. He also had his chores at both places and the restaurant to keep him humble.

That night, Bobbie Sue was filling in for Sarah, a girl who'd worked there as long as I had. Earl was, as always, manning the grill, so Justin was chilling with me that afternoon. I pushed into the restaurant and the delectable smell of smoked meat washed over me. Though I'd worked my tail off serving up every cut of beef, pork, and chicken imaginable, I'd gotten a lot of love in return.

The front of the house was empty, so I poured myself a to-go cup of tea and headed to the kitchen. Before I even pushed through the batwings, I could hear Earl hollering out the back door, telling Justin how much wood to add to the smoker.

Unlike many places, he hadn't converted to fancy indoor equipment, declaring nothing could beat the monster he'd designed and built out of fifty-gallon drums. He was right, though his mad grill skills were at the heart of his success.

Justin rushed back inside, slowing to a fast walk once he crossed the threshold. Kitchen rule 2 was no running in the kitchen. Rule 1 was that unless you worked there or held an inspector's badge, you had no business in the kitchen at all. Even the latter had sense enough to ask permission before coming in. Though he was a big marshmallow, Earl looked like a cross between a tattooed linebacker and a grizzly bear; put a meat cleaver in his hand and he was downright terrifying.

When he looked up and saw me, he grinned and waved said meat cleaver.

"Hey, Noe! You hear to steal my help?"

Justin stopped in his tracks when he heard that. "Aww, do I have to go, Noelle?"

Where's the love? "Geez, brat, nice to see you, too. And yeah, you've gotta get to the farm and get your homework done. You have a spelling test tomorrow, too. Besides, Earl and Bobbie are gonna be slam-busy tonight because Sarah's off."

Truth be told, I was glad he was bummed to have to leave. That meant he was happy with them, which meant all was going as I planned. I reminded myself of that before I let it hurt my feelings that he didn't want to come with me.

"Git your butt on outta here," Earl said, but there wasn't any bite to it. "Can't have no delinquents runnin' around here. Get your learnin' done. If you get an A on your test tomorrow, we'll go muddin' Thursday night when I'm off."

Justin's face lit up like he'd just won the lottery. "Can I drive?"

Earl pretended to consider for a minute. "You can steer. You gotta be able to reach the pedal and see out the windshield at the same time afore ya can take clear over."

"Deal!" He started to run to the back to get his stuff but slowed down when Earl cleared his throat and raised a brow.

I smiled. "You've about got him trained. Be careful or he'll be running the place."

Earl was gruff when he said, "That's the plan, girlie. He's a good boy. Things go the way we hope, the place'll be his someday. Reckon he may as well start learnin' the ropes now."

Neither of us was much for sentiment, but for Earl to even think about somebody else running his baby, he was already in deep. I crossed my mental fingers that it all went off without a hitch.

Instead of embarrassing us both by saying something mushy, I shook my head. "I see how you are. I work here for almost five years and all I get is a hard time. He floats in here and within three months, he's inheriting the place. Great job not playin' favorites."

He snorted. "Shee-it. If I left this place to you, you and Rae'd turn it into another frou-frou place that sells fancy coffee. Why you'd prolly use my baby out back to make some kinda cupcake or somethin'. Can't be turnin' my smoker over to nobody that don't appreciate the craft."

Hmm. Barbecued cupcakes ... bacon cupcakes! That was so gonna be a thing the next time I baked.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "Where's Bobbie Sue?"

"She ran Coralee and Alyse up some lunch. You may as well hang out and wait for her. You eat yet today?" He frowned and gave me the once-over. "You're gettin' skinny. I knew it. You slow down workin' here and I ain't feedin' ya, so you ain't eatin' enough. I'll make you a plate."

I laughed. "I just ate a whole cheeseburger up at the Cat. And all the fries, too." I did preen a little about the skinny comment even though he didn't mean it as a positive thing.

"Still," he grumbled, "I'll send ya home with some ribs and the fixin's for y'all’s supper."

Arguing with him would be like arguing with a post, and it would hurt his feelings, so I said thank you. Besides, his ribs were the bomb-diggity and I didn't feel like cooking. I'd take it.

I walked back to catch Justin before he gathered all his stuff to let him know we weren't quite ready to leave, then went up front to start setting up for the dinner rush for Bobbie and Louise, the other waitress. She'd started a month or so before when Max—her dad—was murdered, and she and her husband had moved back home from Atlanta to be closer to her mom. Louise's story is another long one that, hopefully, you've already read.

I was slicing lemons and Justin had gone back to helping Earl after he'd brought all his stuff up front so it was handy when Bobbie Sue rushed through the door, her cheeks flushed.

"Hey Bobbie—"

"You ain't gonna believe what just happened," she said, cutting me off. "Roberta just got busted stealin’ the collection-plate kitty!"

My jaw about hit the floor. Roberta was a rotund woman in her sixties, and was one of the most pious women I knew. That also meant that she was occasionally—read always—self-righteous, but she prided herself on the time and money she donated to the church and various other charities around town.

Not that I'd say her actions didn't come from the heart, but I did believe the added gossip she managed to pick up between the various places was a bonus for her. She was a major contributor to the Clip N Curl presses and spent at least a little bit of time there nearly every day. Surely she was talking about another Roberta.

"You gotta be kidding. Roberta? You mean head-of-the-ladies'-auxiliary Roberta?"

"Yes, head-of-the-ladies'-auxiliary Roberta. Roberta Shipman. Pastor Gabriel stopped her on her way out to ask her a question and she dropped her wallet. It busted open—you know how much she crams in that thing—and all the money from yesterday's plate fell out!"

"Wait, how did he know it was the money from the plate?" Cash is cash, though I guess there'd probably be a lot of ones. Unless Old Lady Ostermeyer was there. She was ninety-two, and she never failed to drop in a fifty at the beginning of the month, then make the collection guys stand there while she made change.

"Because he'd just gone to the safe to get money to pay the lawn guys and it was gone. She hadn't made it out of the building yet, and when she dropped the wallet and all that cash went flying, she confessed!"

That made no sense whatsoever to me, and I said so.

"Sugar, this here's Keyhole Lake. It ain't gotta make sense to make it so."

Truer words.

CHAPTER TEN

Bobbie Sue hadn't gotten any more information than that. Apparently, the hens at the beauty parlor were clucking too fast to make much sense of it all. She did get that Roberta had confessed to the preacher, then claimed she didn't know what had happened, other than the devil must have made her do it.

Since that wasn't an acceptable legal defense even in Keyhole, she'd insisted on calling the police on herself.

The preacher tried to sit her down and talk some sense into her, but all she'd say was that she'd had these horrible thoughts all day long, and that's all she knew. She said she didn't even remember taking the money until she saw it tumble out of her wallet and she recognized her own pen mark on top of a fifty. People were starting to trickle in, so I called for Justin and we left. Louise was coming as we were going.

She said hey to Justin then turned to me. "Did you hear?"

I nodded. "I did. But just the basics."

"That's all I got, too." She replied. "Damned shame, though."

"That it is. I can't believe it. Have a good night," I told her as we pushed out the door.

"Girls are weird," Justin said as we stepped out into the chilly afternoon.

I scoffed. "Boys are weirder."

"Nuh-huh, girls are definitely weirder. You talk in code. How are we boys ever supposed to understand you?"

Thinking back over the last couple of minutes to figure out what he was talking about, I laughed. I guess from just about anybody other than a local woman's standpoint, the few words that Louise and I exchanged wouldn't have made any sense at all. I gave him a teasing shove. "Okay, I'll give it to you this time. That's a pretty weird girl-thing."

"Thank you," he said, then turned his attention toward the truck.

We stopped in at Brew to say goodbye to Rae. Okay, fine—maybe I wanted to tell her what I'd heard and see if she had any more details, too. What separated Rae and I from the rest of the town jaw-flappers was that we only talked amongst ourselves and we understood that we had to take everything we heard with a grain of salt. And we didn't even repeat what we knew was fact. Much.

Speaking of, I called Hunter to fact-check as soon as we got into the truck, after I'd loaded up the four bags of supper that Earl had insisted on making. Rae's was only a short distance away, but it was in the direction of home and I didn't want to leave the food for long. He didn't answer, but that wasn't unusual when he was working, so I shot him a text as I fired up the truck.

She was leaning against the counter tapping away on her phone when I walked in. Just as she looked up, my phone dinged with an incoming text and she grinned. "You can just ignore that; it was me. Did you hear about Roberta?"

I looked around to make sure nobody would overhear us, but the place was empty. She waved a hand. "It's almost four and it's been dead for the last hour. So, what did you hear? Have you talked to Hunter?"

As soon as she said it, my phone dinged again. As I fished it out of my pocket, I noticed Justin was fidgeting. I sighed; this was why I wasn't suited for parenthood. "Do you want a cookie, big guy?" I asked.

"No," he said, scuffing his shoe on the floor. "I wanna go ride like you said."

Guilt stabbed at me; I'd promised. "Okay, then. Let me grab an energy drink and we'll go." Rae had taken to keeping a pitcher of cold brew mixed with her energy blend. I pulled it out and held it up. "You want one?"

She nodded, so I pulled out our to-go cups and scooped in some ice. "What did you hear?" I asked while I was mixing them.

"Nothing much. Just that her wallet busted open and she spilled her guts as soon as the preacher asked her about it. Oh, and that she called the bank and cancelled checks that she'd written for the veterans memorial and to the animal shelter."

"Shut the front door!" I said. "No way did she do that. She prides herself on those donations. Shoot, she tells everybody about how she donates so much because the causes are so important to her."

"I know," Rae said. "I just talked to her this afternoon while I was getting my nails done and she was going on and on about how the memorial was going to look great with the extra benches around the area she was funding."

I finished our coffees and snapped the lids on, then checked my phone, hoping that last text had been from Hunter. It was, but he didn't have anything else to add that we didn't already know.

Saying as much, I called to Justin, who'd plopped down at one of the tables and pulled out his game. "C'mon brat," I said, grabbing a Coke out of the cooler for him. "I did promise we'd ride, so I'm sorry. Let's go get it done before it gets any colder."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The temperature was dropping like a stone and it was supposed to be in the forties that night, so the horses were fresh. In the couple of months Justin had been with us, he'd become quite the rider and was pestering me to move up from Ben, our old roping horse. That evening, though, even Ben was feeling his oats and threw in a couple of crow-hops when we galloped them out in one of the back pastures.

Since there was no running back to the barn allowed, we had time to talk once we were close to home again.

"So what do you think about living with Bobbie Sue and Earl?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Can I stay here when I want?"

"I think we can work something out, but we gotta get you settled, too. You're always welcome here, but you know as well as I do they're better suited to be parents than I am."

I kneed Missy, my paint horse, closer to Ben and touched Justin on the knee. He looked up at me and I was glad to see that his expression was thoughtful rather than sad. "Dad'd like 'em. Earl's a lot like Dad, really." He smiled. "He used to take me muddin' on his weekends off, but only if I did good in school."

"Did well," I said, correcting him.

"Did well," he repeated, smiling. "Dad used to do that, too."

We rode side by side for a while, each of us lost in our own heads. The sun was setting and it was getting downright cold; the horses' breaths plumed from their nostrils and they picked up the pace when the barn came in sight.

Justin glanced at me. "I reckon livin' with Earl and Bobbie Sue'd be okay, as long as I can still hang out here, too."

I reached over and chucked him on the shoulder. "You're not gettin' rid of us that easy! But it's up to Bobbie Sue and Earl when you come. If you're in trouble and they say no, then it's no."

He nodded. "Fair enough. And Noe?"

"Yeah, brat?"

"Thanks."

I crinkled my nose and smiled at him. "You're welcome."

Having that settled made me feel a ton better. I was 98 percent sure before then that he was okay with it, but I'd needed to hear him say it.

When we rode back into the yard, there was a blue car parked in front of the barn and Nikki, one of my boarders, was grooming Chuckles, her big gray gelding, in the aisle.

There was a hitching post on either side of the barn entrance, so Justin claimed one and I took the other. Once we had the saddles put away and Missy and Ben brushed down, Justin headed inside and I plopped down on an overturned bucket to talk to Nikki. We'd known each other since grade school and had gotten to be friends since she'd bought Chuckles.

"So did you hear all the crazy that went on today?" she asked.

"I did, and it's a shame. I can't say I saw that one coming."

Nikki dropped the brush and spritzed his tail with conditioner. "Me neither. Bless her heart. I mean, she's always ramblin' on about how much time and money she donates. Who'da thought she'd decide to take it all back?"

That was an odd way to look at it, but it made sense in a weird way. We shot the breeze about trivial personal happenings, then Hunter's truck rumbled up the driveway. Nikki's eyes sparkled. "Ooh. Sheriff's here. Somebody gettin' cuffed?"

I grinned at her and winked as he pulled beside the barn and climbed out. "Ladies don't kiss and tell."

She snorted. "Yeah, okay."

My own personal slice of tall, dark, and handsome was making his way toward us with a huge smile on his face. I knew I was wearing the same goofy expression, but I couldn't help it. He bent down and gave me a quick peck, then patted Chuckles and nodded to Nikki.

"You girls look like you were up to no good."

Nikki barked out a laugh and cocked her brow at me. "Now that's a good detective."

"We were just talkin' about Roberta," I said to him, expecting him to clam up like he usually did. I was surprised when he shook his head.

"I've never seen the like. By the time I got there, she was cryin' and sayin' the devil musta made her do it, but Gabriel said when she first spilled the wallet, she started spewing nonsense. Sayin' it was all hers and that she'd given way more than that over the years and wanted it back. According to her cell log, she called and cancelled the checks for the memorial and the animal shelter, then booked a cruise."

Nikki drew her brows together. "Like I said to Noelle a little bit ago—it's like she was doin' the exact opposite of what she loves to tell people about."

A little bell went off in the back of my mind. First Kirsten, who started doing what she really wanted, which was the exact opposite of what she wanted to do. Now Roberta, who did the opposite of what she claimed she loved to do.

Oh. My brain started tumbling the pieces around. Kirsten didn't eat because she was afraid of social punishment. She didn't care about being fat, per se. She didn't want to be called fat. So, when she grabbed the charm, it loosed her inhibitions and she did what she truly wanted.

Then there was Roberta. She donated a lot of money, then bragged about it, so what if she only did it to look good, too? What if what she really wanted to do was spend her money all on herself, but donated it so she could look good?

But where would Shelby have run into Roberta at? Holy crap on a cracker. If this was magical, we needed to slap a lid on it now.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ten minutes later, Shelby hadn't texted me back and I was starting to pace. I called for Addy, who'd taken to hanging out with some of the other post-geriatric crowd down at the movie theater on Sunday nights.

"What's got your knickers twisted this time, girl? They're showing Grownups in the oldies-but-goodies theater tonight and there's only ten minutes left. Can it wait or is somebody dyin'?"

I shook my head. "No, nobody's dyin', at least not right now."

"Well then, I'll be back in about fifteen minutes," she said, then winked out.

Hunter laughed. "You know she's right. There's nothing you can do about it right now anyway, so you may as well sit down and eat. Shelby and Cody are closing the clinic for Will tonight so he could watch the game, so they're probably just hosing down the kennels or something."

Of course, he was right. The two of them burst through the front door five minutes later. To keep my mind and hands busy, I'd heated up the supper that Earl'd packed us, and Justin helped us set the table. Well, if you counted putting out paper plates and plastic cutlery as setting the table.

While they went and washed up, I opened a bottle of wine and poured a healthy glass. I'd called Rae and asked her to come help figure this out. Plus there was a ton of food that needed eaten.

She showed up right behind the kids and poured herself a glass of wine. Matt, a veteran I'd met a couple of months ago when I found him living in one of our cabins by the lake, wandered in. He'd moved into the apartment above the barn and helped out tremendously.

"I thought I smelled barbecue," he said, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

I grinned. "Typical man. You can smell smoked meat from a mile away. Pop a squat; there's enough here for an army.”

He raised a brow and glanced at the table as he pulled out a chair. "I can tell you from experience that you're stretchin' it, but not by far."

In two shakes, we were tearing up the ribs like a bunch of turkey vultures on roadkill.

After we'd taken the edge off and slowed down a little, I explained my theory, or at least my suspicion. "I don't know how, but it seems that they both acted on what they wanted to do most. Though I don't know for sure about Roberta until I've had a chance to talk to Coralee and the girls to see whether she makes all those donations for appearances or out of the goodness of her heart."

"I vote for appearances," Shelby said around a mouthful of garlic bread that she'd used to soak up the bean sauce. "We get donations in all the time at the clinic. Most of the time, it's either left on the porch or else folks just come in, drop it off, shoot the breeze a little, then leave. I never hear another word about it after that. She makes sure she comes when it’s likely to be the busiest and makes a point of talkin’ loud."

Addy popped in. "I heard that. And I agree. Roberta's always been one to toot her own horn. Not only does she make her generosity known, she likes to throw out the numbers, too. Folks who do stuff with charity in their hearts don't brag about it; they just do it."

That seemed odd to me. I'd never had much in the way of cash, but the two causes close to my heart—veterans and animals—got as much of my time as I could donate, since that was all I had. It was something I did, not something I talked about, unless I was trying to raise awareness of either the cause or a specific fundraiser.

Max—our talking donkey, not the dead guy—wondered in just then with his nose in the air. "As usual, nobody bothers to tell the donkey supper's ready."

I rolled my eyes. "That's because you just about ate the bottom out of your bucket of oats not thirty minutes ago."

He sniffed. "That was thirty minutes ago! And oats are meager sustenance compared to the veritable feast I see before you." He sidled up to Justin, who was still a little awestruck by him. That wouldn't last much longer, but the shine hadn't quite worn off yet.

"Boy, fetch me a piece of that toast, with some beans on it, if you will." He eyeballed the rest of the meal. "Since nobody had the consideration and foresight to bring hotdogs, I'll just skip the meat, I suppose." He released a long-suffering sigh.

"Oh, knock it off," Shelby said. "You're just trying to get him to de-bone the ribs for you because you don't have thumbs."

That may sound mean to the uninitiated, but Max was in that form for a reason. He'd started life in the sixteenth century as a lesser British noble, but his less-than-gentlemanly ways had put him in the hot seat with an Irish witch. She cursed his form to more accurately reflect his personality, and here he was, centuries later, and still hadn't learned his lesson.

He pinned his ears back and scowled at her, but didn't deny it.

While Justin was tearing up some toast for him, he said, "Back in my day, it was my responsibility to take care of those who lived on my lands. It wasn't considered an act of charity." He reached out and took a piece of the toast from Justin's fingers, and I thought that for once, he was saying something nice. It happened every once in a while. Then he kept talking. "If I didn't make sure they had what they needed, they couldn't work, and I wouldn't have been able to enjoy my time traveling."

I saw that one coming.

"There's only one problem, though. Kirsten was in Eagle Gap. Roberta was here. What's the connection?"

Rae was worrying her lip. "And if that's truly what's going on, we're dealing with something a lot worse than some petty theft."

"I know," I said, gnawing the crispies off the end of a bone. "And the other problem is we blamed the Kirsten incident on Shelby's bracelet. We thought maybe she'd touched a confidence charm and a negative-energy charm together or something. But did you see Roberta today, Shel?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I was at the clinic all day. Ask Cody."

I tipped up one corner of my mouth. "I'm pretty sure you don't need a reliable alibi; we'll take you at your word."

Hunter chased a mouthful of coleslaw with a swig of beer. "Yeah, I don't see any reason to arrest you just for wearing tacky jewelry."

You can say a lot, but don't insult the charm bracelets in our house. Shelby kicked him under the table and Addy whacked him on the back of the head, though of course her hand went right through. He cringed and pulled away from her. "Eww. If you knew how weird that felt, you wouldn't do it."

Addy crossed her arms. "If you knew what a dink you are, you'd keep your lip zipped. I guess neither one of us gets it. Or in my case worries about, for that matter."

"Knock it off, all three of you," I said. "We all know there's no such thing as coincidences like this. The question is, what do we do?"

"Maybe we should call Camille," Shelby said.

She had a point, but with as worn out as she'd looked, I didn't want to burden her with something until we knew a little more. I said as much.

"I mean, Kirsten ate a pound of junk food and Roberta stole a few bucks. She gave it back—" I knew she gave the collection kitty back, but I looked at Shelby and Cody, because I wasn't sure about the donations. "She did write a new check, right?"

They nodded.

I picked up another rib. "Then it's not like anybody's dead. It'll keep."

Oh, when was I gonna learn not to say stuff like that?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As soon as we finished eating, Shelby and Cody went on their merry way to the movies, Hunter went home to watch the game, and Rae and I got ready to go out.

"Who all's going tonight?" I asked as I patted on some powder.

"Anna Mae said she was in, and Cheri Lynn popped in earlier and said she'd be there. I asked Louise, too."

Louise, the other waitress I mentioned earlier, had moved here from Atlanta and was settling back into country living like a duck to water. Her dad had been killed a couple months back, but it hadn't been quite so hard since he'd decided to stick around. He and her mother had just gotten back from a cross-country vacation that he'd meant to surprise her with before he was murdered.

"Good. I'm glad you convinced her to come. She's been working her butt off and needs a break."

"Yeah, I think it's been hard on her, trying to adjust to Jared running the business with Matt. From what I understand, there's been some friction between him and Max since he got back from the trip."

I knew exactly how he felt. Having a living-impaired father-in-law looking over your shoulder and criticizing everything you did had to be tough.

I could totally relate. A week or so after Addy passed, I was having an ugly-cry session in the barn while I was cleaning stalls when I looked up to find her standing—well, floating—in the doorway. I was so glad to see her that it took me a full week to realize that since she couldn't actually do any physical work, she could boss us around full time. It was sort of a bittersweet situation. Regardless, I'd take it if it meant having her in our lives. I'd been totally lost, and the prospect of raising a sixteen-year-old sister on my own terrified me.

Still, it irritated the crap out of me when she pointed out that I'd missed a spot when cleaning a stall or reminded me that I hadn't cleaned the gutters yet. That was a joke because she'd always made Uncle Calvin clean them when he was alive, then after he'd passed, she'd made somebody else—me—do it. Apparently, it was a whole lot easier to point and criticize than it was to do the jobs while you're living.

Still, having her around to offer advice and just be there for us was worth all that. And besides, it's not like it was any different than when she was alive.

"Why does it matter to her if Max and Jared butt heads? Are they putting her in the middle?" I asked.

"Apparently so,” Rae replied, sweeping on some mascara. “Jared comes to her and complains about her dad being a PITA, then her dad comes and complains to her about Jared being incompetent. And you know how cantankerous Max can be."

Boy did I ever. I'd first met him when Hunter and I were packing up to come home from a vacation. He'd floated in, pretty as you please, and told us we needed to go find his body. You can imagine how shocking that was, considering we hadn't exactly clued Hunter in to the fact that there was a thriving post-living community in Keyhole Lake.

To be fair, I didn't keep it from him because I was being secretive. Well, I was, but it hadn't been my secret to tell. The ghost community was careful about whom they told; after all, stupid reality shows would love to get their hands on that kind of info. Then they'd show up here and try to exploit us to the world.

Tons of cameramen and city slickers oozing through the town, poking fun at us and asking stupid questions wasn't exactly our idea of ideal. So, nobody was allowed to know until the living impaired came to a consensus. Since Hunter was still new to the area—he'd moved here from Atlanta just a few months before—he still hadn't earned the title of local yet.

Of course, Max just showing up randomly had kinda pushed him into the whole supernatural thing, hook, line, and sinker, but he'd taken to it like a trooper. I was worried for weeks that he'd finally recover from the shock of it all, realize what a nut-job situation he was living in, and high-tail it out of there as fast as he could throw his undies and toothbrush in a travel bag.

He hadn't, and I was grateful that he was a little cracked too. He'd have to be to stick around such a mess.

I poured some hairspray over into my leave-in-conditioner bottle and spritzed it on my hair. On the best of days, my hair was so thick and curly that I needed a chair and a whip to tame it, but the good hair products were expensive and I just couldn't justify spending twenty bucks on a product when I could make my own mixture myself.

"I can't imagine that Max would have been easy to work with living, let alone dead. Give that old termagant the ability to pop in wherever he wants to and that would be my idea of a living nightmare. Trust me—I lived it."

"I know. I think that's about three quarters of the reason she's coming out tonight. She needs to get away from it all for a while."

"Well this is the night to do it. Fancy's wings are amazing," she said.

I pulled my brows together as I buttoned my shirt. "You just ate half your body weight in ribs. Are you kidding me?"

"Not even a little. And you know you'll eat some, too."

I puckered my lips. She was probably right. No, she was definitely right.

Fancy's was a little dive bar that served cold beer and the biggest, crispiest wings you could ever imagine. It was beer and wine only, but that was part of its appeal. And Marybeth, the owner and regular bartender, quit serving the cheap stuff to keep out the worst of the riffraff. She said if you couldn't afford to pay three bucks for a real beer, you probably couldn't afford to tip either. That tended to be her ruler, and it wasn't a bad one to use.

We were just climbing in the car when Cheri Lynn popped in. As always, she looked amazing. That was partly due to her almond-shaped eyes and exotic appearance—courtesy of her gypsy blood—and partly to do with the fact that she'd been an exotic dancer pre-death. Those pole-dancing exercise classes were popular for a reason.

I hadn't known her much in life other than by reputation, and man, had I been wrong about her. She'd made a string of bad decisions and had paid for them with her life, but she was one of the best people you'd ever meet. She also said that she was much happier dead than she ever was alive, which made me a little sad.

"Hey, sugar. What's up?" I asked.

"Nothin'," she said, smoothing the little black dress she was wearing. She was always dressed to the nines in some of the hottest fashion trends. They tended to be a bit on the risqué side, but given her previous profession—and the fact that she looked amazing in all of it—I couldn't hold it against her. Well, maybe the part about looking amazing in it.

"Say, where do you get your clothes from?" Raeann and I had discussed that on numerous occasions but had never thought to ask when she was actually with us.

She shrugged, causing her ghostly cocktail dress to shimmer a little. "I just think about what I want to wear and they appear."

Dang, that must be nice.

Fancy's wasn't far from the house and I was glad to see that it was relatively slow when we pulled in. There were only a handful of cars besides Marybeth's in the lot.

"Looks like we're early," Rae said. "I don't see Louise's or Anna Mae's cars."

I checked my phone; it was only fifteen 'til eight. "Yeah, Camille's not here yet, either.” I'd no sooner said that than her little black Audi whipped into the lot and parked beside us. I was glad to see she looked marginally better when she climbed out than she had the day before. Either the black smears under her eyes were fading or she had really good foundation. Her eyes were a little brighter though, so I hoped it wasn't just the makeup.

Cheri Lynn floated over to her, frowning as she took a closer look. "Holy crow, sugar. You okay?" The fact that Cheri was concerned over her appearance when I was just thinking how much better she looked was testament to how ragged she'd been when I saw her.

Camille gave her a half-smile. "I'm gettin' there. The last couple months were brutal. I'm glad to be home.”

We strolled into Fancy's and decided to split a bucket of Bud Light. Marybeth—a tattooed, pierced woman with a lot of hard years on her—brought it over to us. Louise got there a minute later, and Anna Mae was right behind her.

They pulled the last two beers out of the bucket and both of them took a swig like it was water and they were in the middle of the Mojave. I cocked an eyebrow. "Rough day, ladies?"

"Rough week," said Anna Mae, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The move was so out of sync with her pixie-like appearance that I grinned and shook my head. "It musta been something in the air, then. Let's compare. I hereby declare Ms. Monday officially started."

We tapped bottles, then Anna Mae heaved a sigh. "My problems are pretty much first-world, but holy cow. You wouldn't think running a tiny little business like mine would be so tough, but just getting people to deliver stuff on time is like pullin' teeth. To make all these period clothes more appealin', I've decided to start doin' some tailorin' on the side. I had to order some of the fabrics online, and half of 'em didn't show up and three of 'em were the wrong color! I've got a woman waitin' on me to fix a ball gown so she can go as Scarlett O'Hara for Halloween and at this point, I may as well yank down the drapes and make it myself." She huffed out a breath and took another swig of her beer.

"Okay," I said. "Louise, your turn."

"Oh," she replied, shaking her head, "nothin' at all wrong here. I'm sure every woman has to act as the buffer between her dead daddy and her fed-up hubby. She waved a frustrated hand. “I swear those two are worse than little kids. Daddy picks just for the sake of pickin', and Jared is just as bad. He digs his heels in even when Daddy's right just to be difficult."

Listening to these two made me feel like I was sittin' pretty.

"What about you, Cheri Lynn?" Though she couldn't drink, she still had her ups and downs and the Monday-night gab sessions were her place to work through it all, too. After all, it wasn't every day a girl was murdered, and we'd helped her get through the thick and the thin of it.

"I'm actually good this week, ladies. Me and Rupert”—a nice recently deceased man she’d met on our cruise—“are gettin' along fine as frog's hair and I'm comin' to grips with things. I still have my moments, but I'm gettin' there."

I'd been watching Camille, trying to gauge her state of mind. She was listening with half an ear but her heart wasn't in it. She peeled the label from her beer, chin in hand, her mind a million miles away.

"Earth to Camille," I said, tilting my head toward her.

She jerked, then made eye contact, her eyes coming back into focus. Her mouth lifted into the hint of a smile. "I'm here. Just a rough patch for me, too."

"No shit, Sherlock," Raeann said. "You up and disappear for almost three months, and we don't hear so much as a peep from ya unless we leave a million voicemails threatenin' to come hunt you down. Then you show back up lookin' like—I'm sorry—death warmed over. What's goin' on with you?"

Anna Mae nodded. "Yeah, girl, we've been worried sick about you. Spit it out. You'll feel better."

Camille puckered her lips and pushed them to the side, staring at her beer bottle as if it held the answers to the universe. At first, I didn't think she was gonna speak, but right as she opened her mouth to say something, the most obnoxious voice—pouring from the most obnoxious mouth—in the county sounded behind me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I pulled in a deep breath and released it before turning in my chair. My nemesis—also known as Olivia Anderson, the biggest cow in town—was standing behind me, arms crossed and an arrogant sneer smeared across her face. Her two blonde-bimbo cronies from high school, Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber, stood behind her.

"Look, ladies. It's Misfit Monday," she said, glancing around our table. Her nose was particularly out of joint with me right now because, in her eyes, I'd outshone her on the veterans' memorial we just had built in the downtown square. It really hadn't been like that at all—my only goal was to raise enough funds and work with the best company to get it done right.

As it turned out, Wheeler Construction, one of the two best construction companies in the county, had won the bid. Unfortunately—especially for Max Wheeler—he was murdered before the project started, so it was on hold for a couple of weeks. It's worth mentioning that even with the delay, it was still completed a week before her then-boyfriend's company had bid, and cost almost a grand less.

She had some sour grapes, though. We'd both been on the county memorial committee and she'd voted to go with another company since the future of Max's company was up in the air for a week or so after he died. None of us could figure out why she was so keen to ditch Wheeler rather than give them time to sort it out, since they were both better and cheaper.

Turns out she was dating Bo Jackson of Jackson Construction—the other company that had bid on the job. It was a good match because Bo was as shady as she was, but since I knew Max's family would have the jobs back up and running, I encouraged waiting it out, and the rest of the committee agreed.

Apparently, it had cost her an engagement ring, or a pony, or liposuction, or something because she'd been even more hateful than usual since then. Of course, that wasn't saying much. I beat her ass in grade school for stealing a kindergartner's juice box and that pretty much set the tone for our relationship.

"Walk away, Olivia. Now's not a good time," I said.

Katie Lawson, another chick who'd worn speedbumps on her head more than once thanks to my knuckles, took a leery step back, but turned her nose up. I'd only tangled with her once when she stole Raeann's prom date, but I'd done a thorough enough job that she didn't want a repeat. Survival instinct. Even earthworms and brainless bimbos have it.

Katie motioned with her chin to Raeann. "Still single, I see. You always did have a problem hanging onto your men. Now I hear you're such a loser they try to kill you to get away from you."

Before I even realized it, my fist shot out and I punched her in the mouth so hard it knocked her backward into Angelica Cotton, the third gum-snapping dimwit in their bunch.

Marybeth looked toward the ruckus, if you could call it that, but went back to putting glasses away when she saw it was just me putting Olivia and the Boobsie twins in their place. She'd seen it a half-dozen times over the years and knew nothing would come of it other than some free entertainment for her other patrons.

I hadn't even gotten off my barstool, so I motioned toward Katie. "I told you to walk away, Olivia. I meant it. Unless you want me to get off this stool and beat you like a drum, you and Rotton Cotton pick up motor mouth there and be on your way."

Katie had tortured Rae since that night at the prom and Rae always chose to shrug it off and walk away. It was the only thing about her that pissed me off. Now, if a person said something about me or somebody else she cared about, it was on, but she refused to take up for herself.

"We ain't leavin'," Angelica said. "We got just as much right to be here as you."

I heaved a deep breath. "I don't care whether you leave or stay, but if you stay, take your nasty selves to the back where I don't have to look at you. And if any of you can't control your mouths or mind your manners, I'll help you leave. Got it?"

Olivia looked to Marybeth. "Aren't you going to do anything? She assaulted my friend."

Marybeth snorted. "If your friend knew how to keep her mouth shut, people wouldn't keep shuttin' it for her. Noelle and her crew don't make no trouble and they tip. I can't say either for your lot, so if you're takin' exception, there's the door."

Angelica glared at me but turned to haul Katie, who still looked a little dazed, to her feet. When she did, Katie ripped her arm away. "Get your hands off me."

She turned to me like she was going to say something, wiping the blood off her lip with a tissue Olivia had handed her. At that point, I was almost hoping she'd open her mouth, but she just snapped it shut, shrugged off Angelica's hands, and stalked away, the other two trailing after her in a grand huff.

There was a piece of fleecy hot-pink fabric crumpled on the ground. "Hey, Trick!" I barked in their direction. All three of them stiffened and pivoted back toward us, firing daggers from their eyes. Anna Mae and Cheri Lynn giggled.

"Least they all own it, Sugar," Cheri Lynn said, smirking.

"What, you ... hillbilly?" Olivia ground.

"Ouch," I said, pointing to the ground. "That one hurt. The eighties called and want their scarf back, but I'll leave that up to whichever of you dropped it." Katie stomped forward and snatched it off the ground, glowering at me.

After they were well past me and into the next room, I turned back toward the table. Camille was smiling. "Friends of yours?"

I huffed, then smiled back. "Somethin' like that."

Louise said, "Shoot, them two been goin' at it like that since grade school. I can't even count how many times I've seen Noelle pop Olivia in the mouth, and she wore Katie clean out at one of their proms."

Raeann shook her head. "You'd think they'd learn, but they don't. They'll respect her for a few months or a year, then need a refresher course."

"Speakin' of respect," I said, lowering my brows at her, "I'd love to see you lay Katie out just one time. If you do, she'll quit that crap, you know."

She shrugged. "I know, but she's not worth it. I really don't care what she says about me. She's an idiot."

"Then consider it a public service to teach her some social skills," I said. The other girls had stayed out of it; they all knew it was an age-old sore spot between us. She was looking down at her napkin and I felt bad for giving her a hard time.

"Then again," I said, nudging her with my elbow, "I do so enjoy bustin' her in the mouth myself." That got a smile and I gave her the I'm sorry look reserved for sisters. She nudged me back, and all was forgiven.

We shot a few games of pool, then did just as Rae had predicted—we messed up a bunch of wings with extra ranch and blue cheese. We were just finishing up when the three trolls staggered out of the back room and toward us. They were leading Olivia, who was ugly-crying. Angelica caught her toe on a chair at the table beside us and tripped straight into our table.

She instinctively reached out to catch herself and I caught her hand and stabilized her before she could face plant. And no, I didn't do it because I was nice. I just didn't want her blood to splash on my Lucchese booties when her face hit the table edge. They were the one thing I splurged on when I got my windfall.

It nearly killed her, and she snatched her hand away from me as soon as she caught her balance, then returned to comforting the bawling heifer, patting her on the back as they led her out the door. All I heard as they were leaving was Olivia gasping something about Cheezits, Bo's mother, and an eggshell carpet.

A few minutes later, we paid the tab and were pulling on our coats when I felt eyes on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my gaze snapped over Rae's shoulder to the front door. Sure enough, standing there in a long, expensive-looking overcoat, was the strange woman. I pushed past Rae and toward her as she slipped out of my view, but I didn't see hide nor hair of her outside. I looked left and right up the length of the building.

There was no way she could have possibly made it to either corner in the couple of seconds it took me to get to the door. Unfortunately, there's no such thing as impossible in the life of a witch.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When I woke the next morning, my head ached a little, but otherwise I felt fine. The goal of Ms. Mondays wasn't to get hammered; we just needed a few hours to leave our worries behind, or complain about things to people who would listen and either offer a solution or tell us to cowgirl up. Or both.

I made my coffee and took it to the porch. It was a little chilly, but there was no way to tell when front-porch sittin' would have to be packed away for the winter, so I took advantage when I could. Rocking in the porch swing in my fluffy pajamas, drinking coffee and soaking in the peace, was my therapy. It was Shelby's morning to feed, and since she had to help Cody again that day at the clinic, the horses were already turned out.

They were feeling the cold, too, cantering through the pasture, bucking and twisting their necks just because it felt good.

Matt thumped down the steps from his apartment above the barn. He stared across the pasture at the horses for a long moment, no doubt for the same reason I was. He flicked his gaze toward the porch and raised his hand when he saw me.

I smiled as he ambled across the yard with Wiz, his tongue-lolling German Shepherd, bounding along beside him. He'd changed so much in the couple of months he'd been with us that I barely recognized him as the emotionally wounded man who'd been hiding from the stressors of life in our cabin.

Physically, he looked pretty much the same: tall, lean, and straight-backed, his posture an outward sign of his military experience. It was his eyes that were the most different. They were brighter and a little less guarded. He still had the haunted look only a soldier or a victim of catastrophic circumstances wears, but there were some fresh laugh lines there now, too.

Don't get me wrong. That had little to do with me and everything to do with the fact that he'd taken a step toward re-entering society, and Addy had happened to be there to encourage him, and I suspect, give him a nudge in the right direction.

Anyway, life had thrown him into our world at exactly the right time, just like it's prone to do. He'd needed a job and had experience with just about every aspect of the construction business there was, and Emily Wheeler, Max's widow, had needed a foreman to take over the reins. Before Max’s death, I'd contracted with Wheeler to build a pool and deck, and they'd only just dug the hole when somebody cracked Max's melon. I’d needed that finished before it turned into a pond.

So, he ended up moving into the apartment above the barn in exchange for helping out around the farm and supervising the pool construction. He also went to work for Emily, though to be fair, he wasn't working so much for her as he was with her. It was a win for all of us.

He grinned as he approached and nodded toward my cup. "Got any more of that?"

"Ha! Like that's even a question. Lemme grab you a cup; I need to top mine off, too." I pulled my feet from beneath me and stood, glad that I was wearing my fuzzy socks because the cold from the porch seeped through even them in the few steps it took me to reach the screen door.

The blast of warm air felt good when we stepped inside. "How are things going with the Wheelers?"

"Better than I could have hoped for," he said, reaching into a cabinet for a coffee cup. "You don't happen to have any of those blueberry danishes layin' around, do you?"

I motioned toward the table. “I was just getting ready to start baking, but I think there are a few in there.” While I fixed the coffee, he pilfered through my bakery box and pulled out a slightly smashed pastry. "Want one?" he asked while he had to lid up.

"Yeah, grab me a mixed-berry one. If not, a blueberry muffin will work."

I stirred the creamer into mine and handed him his sans anything but the coffee. He said that over the course of nine years in the army, he’d gotten used to drinking cold instant, so just the fact that it was hot and brewed suited him. He took a drink and winced a little.

"Not to be a choosy beggar, but did you turn the pot off?"

I glanced at the pot. "I don't think—" yes, I had. I groaned. "Here, gimme it."

He handed it back to me and I wrapped my hands around it, focusing heat into my hands and through the ceramic. When steam rose from the coffee, I gave it back to him and he grinned. "Yet another handy benefit of having morning coffee with a witch." Shaking his head, he said, "One more to add to the long list of things I never thought I'd hear myself say."

"Yeah, yeah. Sometimes I think you only come visit for the guaranteed hot coffee and pastries."

He bit into the smooshed half of the danish and took a sip of coffee, then winked. "I never claimed otherwise."

I lifted a brow. "Keep it up. I'll turn it into weak tea and scones."

"I'll stop," he laughed, holding up a hand in surrender.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

We made our way back out to the porch, but headed around to the new section that overlooked the pool. He'd surprised me by building a fountain into the corner of it. The trickling water added another layer of peace to the tranquil view. Both of us chose chairs facing out over the back pasture beyond the pool.

"I'm considering covering the arena," I said. "I think I could attract a couple more boarders by doing that."

"Do you really wanna attract a couple more boarders?" he asked. We shared a distaste for breaches in our privacy, and cherished the quiet of the farm.

"I don't know," I said. "I wouldn't just mind a couple, if they were the right ones. I wouldn't be interested in anyone who wanted to be out here every morning at seven, or until late at night, either. On the other hand, it might be nice to get in a couple of folks who want to hang out a few days a week. It would put some extra money in the kitty."

He appraised the existing arena behind the barn. "You know you're looking at another fifteen or twenty grand to do it, right? And that's with us doing the labor for practically nothin'. I wouldn't charge you for my time, but I'd have to pay the crew."

I sucked in a breath. "No, I didn't. Even just to cover it?"

"Even just to cover it. You'd have to do drainage around it, plus would you really want to leave the footing as-is? That sand’s pretty deep in a couple of the corners and water stands in a couple places, too. It needs to be resurfaced with proper drainage layers underneath. Ain't no need to do it if you ain't gonna do it right."

Doing some quick mental math, I shook my head. "It'd take me at least five years to recoup that cost. I'll have to think about it. I don't even think I'll have that much left after I put back some rainy-day money."

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping our coffee and watching the horses playing. The steam rising off the pool made it look almost mystical. I was thinking about the door and end table, arranging and adding things in my mind before I went down and got started. I was hoping to have it done by the end of the week so I could have a clear plate and go do some more deal shopping that weekend.

My phone dinged with an incoming text and he shook his head when I reached for it. "I don't get it. Folks carry those things everywhere like an extra appendage. What could possibly be so important it can't wait for you to start your day?"

I shrugged, but he had a point. I pulled my hand back and left the phone lying there for a minute, but couldn't resist. He laughed when I snatched it off the table. "I knew it. It was making you crazy. I could see your focus zero in on the stupid thing like a magnet."

I slid my thumb across the screen to open it. It was a text from Rae.

R: 911! Come to courthouse ASAP. I'm being arrested for murder. They're taking my phone now.

My heart about leapt out of my chest and I froze, trying to center my thoughts and focus. My fingers were numb and I nearly dropped my phone.

Matt smirked, missing my expression. "See! Nobody's dead, now are they?"

"Actually," I replied, "somebody is. And Rae's the one accused of doin’ it."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I bolted inside and up to my room to pull on some clothes. In the two minutes it took me to pull on jeans and a t-shirt and pull my hair into a messy twist, Matt had the truck started and was waiting in front of the house.

I raised my brows.

"You're in no condition to drive. From what I understand, you've managed to survive threats to your life more than once over the last couple months. I reckon I probably shouldn't let you do your own self in drivin' like a mad woman because you're brain's in shock."

There wasn't any time to waste and he was right; I wasn't in any shape to drive. "Okay, just get me there as fast as you can, then. You know, without hurting the truck." I never let anybody drive my baby, but it looked like I was about to make an exception. He'd already pulled out of the yard and was halfway down the driveway.

"I've driven Bradleys down the main streets of major cities with people shootin' and lobbin' grenades at me. I think I can manage to get a lil ole pickup down a quiet, back-country road, no problem."

Well, I couldn't much argue with that.

"Did she say who got killed?" he asked, turning onto the main road.

I shook my head. "No, just that she was arrested for murder." I bit my lip and thought back to the night before, when I'd gotten onto her for being too passive. I called Hunter, but he didn’t answer. Whoever thought she'd straight-up killed someone was out of his mind.

We pulled in front of the courthouse less than ten minutes later and I was out of the truck before it even came to a full stop. I rushed up the grand staircase and across the graceful verandah, almost knocking a little old lady over in my haste to jerk one of the double doors open. Luckily, the inside of the courthouse was mostly empty, so I didn't have to push through the usual crowd of folks that would be there to pay their taxes or take care of speeding tickets.

The sheriff's office was at the back of the building, and I called out a hasty greeting to Peggy Sue, the receptionist, as I rushed past her desk to Hunter's office.

He was standing with his back to me when I burst through his door and I came to a sliding halt. He turned around to look at me, brow raised.

"Where's Rae?" I asked, looking around the office as though I expected to see her sitting there.

"She's down in intake," he said. They’re processing her, then I have to decide what to do with her."

"What do you mean what to do with her? You have to release her, is what." Was he nuts? He knew Rae couldn't do something like this, whatever this was. That reminded me that I had no clue what was actually going on, so I asked.

"You mean she didn't tell you?"

"Of course she didn't tell me," I snapped, "or else I wouldn't be askin'."

He crossed his arms and glared at me.

"I'm sorry," I said, taking a deep breath. "I shouldn't have snapped. What happened?"

Sighing, he motioned to the chair. "You may as well sit down. It's gonna be a while yet before you can see her or before I can process her through on my end to try to get bail."

I did as he asked, then popped back up and paced.

"Wearin' a path in my floor isn't gonna do her any good," he said, "but I understand. Now, as to what happened, all I've managed to gather so far is that Olivia came into Brew and saw Raeann with Katie ..." he crinkled his brow and shuffled through some papers on his desk.

"Lawson?" I asked, dreading the direction this was heading.

"Yeah, Katie Lawson." He dropped the stack of papers back onto his desk. "Olivia said she came around the corner and Raeann was kneeling beside Katie."

I waited for the killin' part. When he didn't say anything else, I rolled my fingers. "And? Are you tellin' me Rae finally got up the gumption to give her the beat-down she's deserved for ten years? What happened then?"

He tilted his head and studied me, his brow creased. "Then Olivia bent down to check Katie and she was dead. Strangled, the M.E. thinks. Sounds about right considering she had bruises around her throat. And Raeann was holding the end of a pink scarf that was still wrapped partway around Ms. Lawson's neck."

I plopped back into my chair, my mind whirring through the implications like those old clips on microfiche.

"So, what did Rae have to say?"

Hunter shrugged. "That she just came in and found her that way."

"Well wasn't there anybody else in the store? Rae was supposed to be off today, so Angel should have been there."

"Nope," he said, leaning forward on his elbows and taking my hands in his. "According to Rae, Angel called and said her mama took a bad spill at the library and was being rushed to the hospital. Rae was over at Anna Mae's store lookin' at some doodad or another she'd told her about the night before."

"An antique jewelry box," I said absently, still thinking things through. Angel was the girl who worked part-time for Raeann at Brew and her mama worked down the street at the library.

He waved his hand. "Whatever. She told Angel she'd be there as soon as she could, but when she got there, Angel was gone and she says Katie was on the floor, unconscious."

Smitty, Hunter's second-in-command, pecked on the doorframe and leaned in.

Hunter glanced up. "Yeah, Smitty?"

"The say Ms. Flynn's all booked in."

My eyes shot to Hunter. "Booked in? Surely you don't mean she has to stay here!"

Smitty's ears turned red at my outburst and he looked at the floor several feet to my right.

"I don't know yet, Noe," Hunter said, withdrawing. "She was found kneeling over a body holding the murder weapon."

"You don't know that was the murder weapon. All you know is that Rae was bent over her. Knowing Raeann, she was probably trying to resuscitate her like I did Hank."

I'd met Hunter when he'd rescued me from performing the ultimate sacrifice and placing my mouth on that of our dead sheriff to do CPR. The near-miss still gave me the willies.

He lifted a shoulder. "Maybe so, but I can't appear to pay favorites."

Addy popped in right as he said that, along with Belle. She had fire in her eyes.

"You're damn skippy gonna play favorites. You let my girl out of there right now." She crossed her arms and if looks could rain fire and brimstone, he'd be burnt to a crisp. When he continued to sit there, Belle and Addy zipped closer to him, one on either side.

"She didn't mean in ten minutes, boy!" Belle barked. "She meant, off your ass and on your feet. Grab the keys, get whatever judge on the phone you gotta, then go let her out! She ain't no more a murderer than Mother Teresa and you know it."

He slipped his hands from mine and something about him changed. An icy expression slipped over his face. "Are you presuming to tell me how to do my job?"

Addy narrowed her eyes, noting the change. "I wouldn't think we'd need to."

Belle looked back and forth between them, confused by the sudden friction.

He pushed back from his desk and grabbed the open door. "Noelle, I think you know the way out. I'll call you once I know something."

I gasped. "Wait, what? But I want to see her! You said you were going to do things on your end to see about getting her bail."

"And I will," he said, curling his lip at Addy. "This afternoon, when I speak with the judge about the rest of the cases."

Stunned, I pushed up from my chair. Addy was hovering a foot from his nose wearing her mama-wolf expression, her eyebrows pulled low over her eyes. She was shimmering more than usual, which I'd never seen happen before. "Let. Her. Out." she said, her eyes boring into his.

Ignoring her words but maintaining the eye contact, he motioned again toward the door. "Noelle."

Now I was mad. "What's your problem? You know Addy's just wound up and worried 'cause one of us girls is in trouble. This is her way. She wasn't startin' a pissing match."

Belle floated forward. "I think we all need to just take a deep breath—"

"I'll call you with details when I have them," he said, cutting her off.

"You'll take me to see her now," I said, crossing my arms.

Matt strode down the hallway toward us, a grim smile on his face until he was close enough to pick up on the tension. He wrinkled his brow, confused. "Hey man. What's going on? Is everything straightened out with Raeann?"

Hunter looked back and forth between us, his expression inscrutable.

Ignoring the hand Matt held out, he poked his head out the door. "Smitty, see Ms. Flynn out. She seems to have forgotten her way."

He strode past us, hanging a right down a hallway that lead deeper into the department.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Smitty came toward me, red faced with pinched lips. "I'm sorry Noelle, but—"

"No, no, Smitty. It's fine," I said, waving off his apology. "He's your boss. It's okay though, we're leaving."

Addy and Belle had popped out and poor Matt was looking back and forth between Smitty and me, clueless. To be fair, I couldn't blame him; I had no idea what was going on, and I’d witnessed it firsthand. We left the courthouse in silence, then I explained as well as I could what had just happened.

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, trying to decide what to do next. I pulled out my phone and pecked out a text to Shelby to let her know what was going on.

"Has anybody called her mama?" he asked.

Oh, lord. Aunt Elizabeth. I ran my hand over my face. "I can't imagine; otherwise, she'd be here. She spends a lot of time outside when she can, and she's probably getting her garden ready for winter." Like Raeann, she was an earth witch and had one of the finest herb gardens in the region.

Rae and I had spent countless hours as kids weeding and learning how to care for the plants. Aunt Beth had taught us what each one was good for and how to make blends for different purposes. It wasn't one of my strengths, but Rae had taken to it like a duck to water.

A hint of movement in the back seat caught my eye in the rear-view as I was pulling out of the courthouse lot; Cheri Lynn was appearing. She'd developed the habit if fading in because she said it was rude to just pop in out of nowhere and scare the bejezus out of somebody. I, for one, greatly appreciated it. She also did her level best not to pass her body parts through anybody else’s. The feeling was sort of like passing an ice cube through your flesh.

The longer Addy was dead, the less she cared about personal space and privacy, so a little courtesy from at least one of the ghostly folks I cared about was nice.

"I just came from talkin' to Raeann," she said.

"What did she say? What happened? Is she okay?" I met her eyes in the mirror, anxious for any new information.

"I think okay is relative. She's shaken up, but in a cell by herself, so at least she's not in there with some big Amazon chick lookin' to steal her lunch or virtue."

I snorted. Silver linings.

"But seriously," she went on as Matt twisted around to look at her, "she says Angel called and said her mama took a bad spill at the library and she had to go. Rae was at Anna Mae's, so she told her she'd be right there. Apparently, Angel didn't wait ’cause when she got there, the place was empty and Katie was on the floor. I guess Angel ran everybody out but forgot to lock the door."

"It couldn't have taken more than ten minutes for her to get from Things Forgotten to Brew," I said, "so whatever happened, happened fast."

Matt furrowed his brow. "I wish we could talk to her ourselves. What was that thing with Hunter?"

"What thing with Hunter?" Cheri Lynn asked as I pulled out of the lot. "And why are we leavin' without Raeann?"

I heaved a sigh and explained what had happened.

Cheri frowned. "That don't sound like him at all."

"No," I agreed as we turned onto Main Street, "it doesn't."

Addy popped in right then with a pop so loud even Cheri Lynn jumped and put her hand over her chest. "Sweet baby Jesus, Ms. Addy. If I weren't already dead, you'da just put me in my grave."

For my part, my mind was flipping through options so fast a purple cow could have popped in on Matt's lap and I woulda kept driving.

I tossed a glance back at her. "You been to Aunt Elizabeth's yet?"

She pressed her lips together. "No. To be honest, I hadn't even given it a thought. That where you're headed?"

"Yeah," I said as I flipped on a blinker to hang a right off the main road. "I don't know if Raeann called her or not, so I figured it'd be better to go tell her in person instead of callin' her."

There was a third pop and I was shocked to see it was Angus. I could count on my hands the number of times he'd popped in on me in the years since he'd been gone, even though he'd been a regular fixture in my life growing up. I see him all the time, but he’s not one for just dropping in. Good thing I'd bought the king cab, though—even incorporeal folks took away the feeling of spaciousness once you piled so many of 'em in the back seat.

"Hey, everybody," he said. "I just heard poor Rae got arrested for offin' Katie Lawson. Your sheriff get that straightened out yet?"

I scowled. "Apparently, he's not my sheriff right now. He got his butt on his shoulders and said he'd do somethin' about Rae when he talked to the judge about everybody else, then kicked me out of his office."

Addy sagged a little. "He got his feathers all ruffled cause I got bossy and ran my mouth."

I dodged a pothole then looked at her in the mirror. "Don't you dare do that! You were only doin' what you do and he knew it. There was no reason for him to get all high and mighty like that."

"Well that ain't the onliest reason I popped in," Angus said. "Seems like the whole town's gone plumb off its rocker. The mayor just got in a knock-down, drag-out with his next-door neighbor, Gene Spencer. Their wives had to pull 'em apart. And the preacher swatted Mary Sue Jennings right on the caboose."

That made me swerve as I whipped my head around to look at him. "Come again?"

"Yeah, she bent over to pick up a hymnal, and right out of the blue—crack! Right on the heiney. I don't know who was more shocked."

He was grinning, and I frowned at him in the mirror. "It's not funny. He's a good guy and that could be catastrophic for him."

My suspicion that this was magical in nature swept back over me, and I stopped the truck. I chewed on my lip, debating what to do next.

I thought for a minute and came up with an idea to keep the fine folks of Keyhole from running poor Gabriel through the wringer for something that I was becoming more and more certain wasn't his fault. "Will you please pop into Coralee's and ask her and Belle to do what they do best, and spin it so there was a bee or a fire ant or something on her? That's a little thin, but I'm sure they can beef it up into somethin' believable. They like Gabe, and they’re the best option for quick damage control. Shoot, tell 'em the devil made him do it. Whatever it takes to keep him from gettin' rode outta town on a rail 'til I can get this figured out. Now, what about the mayor?"

Cheri Lynn turned toward him, concern etched on her face. "Yeah, what happened there? Gene used to come to Tassels"—the gentleman's club where she worked pre-corporally impaired—“when he was still drinkin', before he met Mimi. Nice guy, never rude or handsy. I was glad to see him climb on the wagon and stay there."

Angus shrugged. "I reckon they've been havin' a kerfuffle cause the mayor says that little pocket dawg of Gene's has been leavin' yard snickers by his mailbox, and Gene says he ain't. Gene got tired of hearin' it and popped the mayor in the nose when he said something about it." He shook his head. "Dangdest thing—Gene used to get a snoot full and fight at the drop of a hat, but he swore off the stuff when Mimi threatened to leave him after she bailed him outta jail for the umpteenth time. He hasn't raised a hand since."

"Addy, will you go talk to Aunt Beth? I need to find Camille. None of this is addin' up and we need to get it straight before the whole town goes to hell in a hand basket."

She gave a brisk nod and popped out, and I turned to Cheri Lynn. "Can you please pop into the high school and tell Shelby what's going on so she doesn't hear it from somebody else, if she hasn't already?"

"Sure thing, sugar. I'll pop in on Raeann again too, just to keep her company. If you need me, holler. I'll be listenin'."

Somehow, they could always hear. All we ever had to do was call them, and if they could, they'd pop in. I reserved it for near-emergencies though, because it felt rude to just ... summon somebody.

"Thank you. Tell her we're doing everything we can for her," I said as she faded out. I shot a quick 911 text to Camille.

Matt looked at his watch. "If you need me, I'll gladly help, but if so, I need to call and cancel an appointment."

I waved him off. "There's not really anything to do right now. You go take care of business."

I did a three-point turn and pointed the truck back toward town. Just as I pulled onto the main road, my phone dinged with an incoming text. Figuring it was either Shelby or Camille, I unlocked my phone and handed it to Matt since I was driving. "Can you check that, please?"

"Whoa," he said, his voice filled with surprise when he glanced at it. "It's Hunter. All it says is that Raeann's bail is set at a hundred grand."

Drawing in a deep breath, I thanked the fates for sending me that reward money; otherwise, I would have had to put up the farm.

"Okay, so I just go to a bail bondman, give him like ten or twenty percent, and then I get it back when she shows up for court, right?"

He drew his lips thin in a wince. "Not exactly. I mean, it's usually ten percent, but if you go to a bondsman, you forfeit the money."

"What! That's highway robbery! They know Rae's not goin' anywhere."

Shaking his head, he said, "That's the way it works. If you post full bail at the courthouse, you get it back when she shows up. If you use a bondsman, it's only ten percent, but it's cash money, gone. Sorry."

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think. I had that much, but if I spent it, I'd either be out my business money or my rainy-day money. Addy popped back in at the tail end.

"What's cash money, gone?"

I explained the situation. "Well that's a no-brainer. Put up the farm. If Hank were still in office, I'd say, over my dead body—." Matt arched a brow at her, earning him a scowl. "Don't get smart. You know what I mean." She turned to me. "Get to the farm and get the deed. She ain't goin' nowhere and there ain't no reason to hand that greasy Clyde Harris so much as a dime of your stash."

I did as she said. When we pulled into the yard, Matt climbed out and loped to his truck, yelling over his shoulder for me to call him if I needed anything.

Within fifteen minutes, I was pulling back into the courthouse parking lot and within an hour, Rae was in the truck, buckling up as we went back to the farm to meet Camille and Shelby for a witchy pow-wow.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As soon as we were underway, I started grilling her.

"Tell me everything. Did you see anybody? How long did it take you to get there after Angel said she was leaving? Why were you holding the scarf?"

She held up her hand. "Gimme a minute to breathe, sweetie. I'm just recovering from my first time in the hoosegow and it didn't agree with me at all. You know they made me put on orange? Like, I thought that was just hype, but it's not. And it was faded, so somebody else—or many somebody elses—had worn it before me! That's nasty! And the cheap flip-flops. Those weren't just fashion disasters, they were crimes against humanity!" she paused, then a look of abject horror crossed her face. "Ohmuhgawd. Do you think the flip-flops were used, too?"

I couldn't help it; between the relief of having her out of jail and the fact that the thing that bothered her most was the wardrobe, I laughed. Then, when I pictured her in a faded orange jumpsuit and worn-out, dollar-store flip-flops, I couldn't stop laughing. I reached across and hugged her.

"Lord, you scared me girl. Then Hunter went all Neanderthal on me. Tell me everything you know."

"Well," she said, changing the radio station from classic rock to country, "there's not much to tell. Angel called, and I thought she was going to wait on me, but I guess she didn't. Not that I blame her, mind ya. She must have cleared the place but forgot to lock the door. When I got there, it was unlocked and Katie was sprawled out in the floor."

She stopped to take a breath before continuing. "I nudged her with my toe—honestly, I thought the beast was tryin' to fake me out so she could sue me for fallin' or somethin'—but she didn't move. I bent down to check for a pulse, but she had on that ape-ugly pink scarf. I couldn't check with it on, so I pulled it loose and that's when Olivia came in and started screamin' bloody murder. Literally."

I flicked on the blinker to turn onto the road that led to the farm. "So you didn't see or hear anybody?"

She shook her head, picking at a thread on her purse. "Not a soul, living or dead."

"And how long did it take you to get to Brew? You were at Anna Mae's right?"

"Yeah," she said, "but Anna Mae was in the ladies' room and I was watchin' the front for her. There were a coupla folks in there browsin' so she didn't want to leave them alone, but there'd been people in and out all day. She hadn’t had a chance to go since she got there."

"Yeah, but that's all of two minutes," I said.

She shook her head. "She had fast-food tacos and burritos the night before, and pizza with jalapenos for lunch before that. It was more like fifteen. Speakin' of," She pointed at the seven-eleven. "Stop and lemme get a taquito. I didn't have breakfast or lunch," she said.

I pulled into the lot and digested the new info while she ran in. It opened up a much bigger window than I'd originally thought for somebody to kill Katie and get away.

When she climbed back in, I continued as if we hadn't stopped. "So all in all, the store coulda been empty for twenty five minutes or so.”

"Sure, easy," she said, handing me a crispy roll-up filled with fake cheese and mystery meat. "The weird thing that I remember is that she was holdin' a bright-blue crocheted hat."

I took a sample bite then blew in and out, trying not to let the hot cheese-ish burn the buds off my tongue. "A crocheted hat?" I asked as soon as I could chew a couple times and swallow. "You mean like a beret?" When she nodded, I scrunched my forehead. "So what? It was probably hers. She was a bit of a diva. I could see her wearing something like that."

"Maybe, but why would she wear a blue hat and a pink scarf? I mean, I realize she wasn't the shiniest button in the box, but she did look at the pictures in every fashion magazine known to man."

She had a point, but still, it wasn't much to go on. "How many of that crew do you still see around town?"

"Not many," she shrugged. "I hear they come into Brew on my days off, which is hilarious. But from what Angel says, there's never more than four of them. She thinks it's funny because they always ask if I'm working or if you're there before they order coffee and pastries."

A corner of my mouth tipped up and I ventured another bite of the taquito. I could feel my arteries hardening with every bite, but man, was it good.

"Okay," I said after I swallowed. "Who'd be the fourth? We know the three slutateers—Olivia, Angelica, and Katie—but who else would possibly hang out with them? As far as I know, most of that crowd got knocked up straight out of high school and married their third cousins, once removed."

All right—that was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much.

"I have no idea who the fourth may have been, but I think we need to start by talking to Olivia," she said. "After all, she's the one who saw me. Maybe she saw somebody else, too."

I agreed. "I'm going to look at the building beside Coralee's tomorrow anyway, so I'll stop in." The Clip N Curl was on the corner right beside the courthouse, which is where I figured they got most of their gossip, so I could walk there in less than three minutes.

Olivia bragged about being a Mary Kay Professional and had earned the pink caddie a few years back to prove it, but she worked at the courthouse as a clerk, too. Her office was directly above the sheriff's office suite.

"Okayy," Rae drawled. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

I snorted. "I think I can manage not to punch her out for the ten minutes I'll be there. Besides, it's her place of employment. There are rules of engagement to follow here."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you actually think that's a thing."

I huffed. "Of course it's a thing. It's like the Geneva Convention for arch enemies."

"Yeah, okay."

It was only about noon when we pulled onto the long drive leading to the farm, but it felt like midnight. The emotional rollercoaster had been a doozy. By the time we pulled up in front of the house, the yard was full. Shelby's car was there along with Camille's. Hunter's truck was there, too.

I pulled in front of the barn to keep from blocking people in and Hunter shuffled out the front door toward us, hands in his pockets. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my anger at him, which I'd managed to keep at a low simmer on the backburner, leapt to a full boil, front and center.

I stalked toward him. "What the hell is wrong with you? You were just gonna leave her there, all because of your stupid pride? Lemme tell you, mister. There ain't room for that kind of ego in this family. Not when it comes to something like this!"

Regret was etched on his face and he opened his mouth to say something, buy I was seeing red. Instead, I pointed toward his truck. "I won't insult you by implying you don't know your way out. Use it."

With that, I turned my back on him and strode toward the house, up the steps, and across the porch without even looking back. I was afraid if I did, I'd either say something I'd regret or forgive him, and I didn't want to do either of those things.

The screen door slapped shut behind me and I kicked my shoes off on my way to the kitchen. It wasn't long before Rae followed me in and handed me a manila envelope I recognized as one Hunter'd been holding.

I looked from her to it. "What's this?" It didn't feel like it had anything in it.

"Just open it," she said, shoving it toward me.

I ran my tongue against the sharp edges of my front teeth, trying to get a handle on my anger, then pulled open the flap and yanked out the contents. It was the deed to the farm. I frowned and glanced at Raeann, not understanding.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Addy floated over and looked over my shoulder. "Oh. It's the deed to the farm. The knucklehead finally came around." She turned to Rae and motioned to me with her chin. "I know this one here's too mad to have talked to him because he was such a nitwit, but you're too polite to leave him standing in the yard. What did he say?"

"He had me sign a paper releasing me on my own recognizance. He said he has no idea what happened, and he only remembers a flash of it after Addy poppin' in. Everything after that is kinda fuzzy until he was lookin' at pictures." She looked down at the floor. "You know, of Katie. He said to tell everybody he's sorry and that he acted like a real jerk."

"Well, he's right about that," I said, but there wasn't much heat left behind the words. I looked from face to face in the kitchen; there was a mixed bag of emotions. My own stubborn temper reflected back at me from Aunt Beth and Shelby, Camille looked a little guilty, which was weird, and finally, Rae and Addy looked concerned.

"All right, fine," I said. "I'll call and talk to him."

My aunt and my bestie smiled, but Shelby was appalled. To her, the world was still sort of black and white. "You'll not. Not until you figure out what's going on here. I'm sorry, but from what Addy said, if he isn't willing to stand by family when the goin' gets tough and one of us needs the rest of us, then he ain't the man I thought he was and he's not suited to be part of us."

I held my hand out. "We may have extenuating circumstances that are updumpin' the apple cart right now."

I'd already run the idea past Rae in the truck, and she agreed with me that all the weird goings-on were best explained, at least in the context of this cluster, by magic.

So I sat down and began to outline it for everybody else.

"Let me get this straight," Addy said. "You think somehow magic is causing all of this? How? What's the point? We have a reformed drunk, a snobby socialite, a preacher, and a kid. They have zero in common and neither do their particular behaviors."

"Don't forget the sheriff," I added.

"Oh yeah, him too," Addy said. "Though he's a little sensitive anyway. I probly shouldn't have pushed him."

"That's neither here nor there. Addy's right," Aunt Beth said. "Usually when witches get involved, there's a reason. And as bad as I hate to say it, it's generally greed."

Aunt Beth was the youngest of them by four years, but the resemblance between her and Addy was striking. They shared the red hair and green eyes typical of Flynn women and both had a little extra padding. They main difference was that Beth's face had a softness to it, whereas Addy's was sharper. Not so much physically—it was more the way they carried themselves. And Aunt Beth looked ... broken, I guess would be the best word. She’d been involved in some kind of battle with another witch right after Shelby was born—we never got anything but bare-bones information—and barely came away with her life.

"But remember, Addy, “Beth added, “greed comes in many forms. We may just not be able to see the whole game board yet.”

At that, Camille sighed and several expressions flitted across her face at once: indecision, fear, resignation, then finally resolve. "I think I have something to add."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Five faces pivoted toward her. "The last assignment I was on—"

"You mean where you were gone for almost three months and we hardly ever heard from you? The assignment that scared us all about witless for you?" I asked. "That assignment?"

Addy swatted at me and I grimaced and shivered as her hand passed through my shoulder.

"Mind your manners and let her talk," she snapped. "She already knows we were worried about her."

"Yes, Noelle, that assignment," Camille said, looking heavenward. "Anyway, it was local. Not here, but in a couple communities to the west of us. Eagle Gap, mostly."

"You were that close and never came home?" I asked, confused.

"There was no way I was comin' here and leading them to my family if there was the slimmest chance they didn't already know me," she said. "We still haven't figured out how or why, but they were compelling people. At first, it was stupid stuff—stealing mostly. Petty theft, shopliftin', that sort of thing. Some of the property was stolen from private homes; witches homes to be exact. And there was some odd behavior, too, though we couldn't link those to the thefts because there wasn't anything tangible."

She swirled her spoon in her coffee cup, thinking, then continued. "Then they upped the ante and switched their focus. Fourteen witches were attacked in all. We thought they were trying to steal power, but that's not possible. It's like stealing somebody's blue eyes. Magic is part of a witch's DNA, and we all know that. Thankfully, people over there are as clannish and paranoid as in most small towns. The witch community circled the wagons and beefed up their wards, so nobody was seriously injured, but the attacks continued."

"So you caught them, right?" Beth asked, casting a worried glance at Raeann. She tended to be overprotective on her best day, let alone when her daughter's future was hanging in the balance.

Camille shook her head. "A witch came forward and confessed, but she says she doesn't remember doing it."

"Then why did she confess?" That made no sense to me.

"Because she found some of the stolen property in a box under her bed."

Shelby snorted. "That's just stupid. So she finds stolen property under her bed and thinks, oh, well silly me—I don't remember doing any of this, but since I found stuff that doesn't belong to me, I must have stolen it? She rolled her eyes. "What kind of gullible dunce is she?"

Camille raised a brow. "One who's three hundred years old and had placed so many wards on the box that nobody else could have possibly gotten into it."

"Oh," Shelby said, suddenly examining her fingers like they were the most important things in the world.

"Yeah, oh," Camille said. "But it didn't jive with us, either. Witches that old—and as powerful as she is—aren't exactly easy to manipulate. We'd been working with a local witch named Nora. She left a garbled message saying she had an idea and would give us a ring when she worked it out, but we never heard from her. She mentioned something about cats, too, which made no sense. We went as soon as we could, but by the time we got there, she was dead. Her death wasn't suspicious, just untimely, though there was evidence she'd done some sort of spellwork before she died."

"I know both of them," Addy said. "That don't sound like something Suzette would do. I met her grandmother a couple of times at our summer solstice shindigs. Her mind was going." She glanced at Camille. "So what made you decide to wrap it up if you never caught ’em and didn’t think Suzette did it?"

Camille shrugged. "We ran out of leads. Things stopped happening. We tested Suzette—the witch who confessed—and found evidence of tampering, but it was just wisps. We considered binding her, but chose instead to put her under the direction of the Magical Oversight Committee. She has an exemplary history and has to care for her grandmother, and she's an earth witch. Without her magic, she wouldn't be able to make the potions that are her livelihood."

"Speaking of personal talents," Beth said to Camille, "if you don't mind me asking, what are yours? Nobody's ever told me." She blushed a bit because that was sort of the witchy equivalent of asking a woman how much she weighs; not exactly taboo, but rude.

Camille waved a hand. "It's fine. My specialty is spellwork, though like you all, I can perform standard magic, too. I can also detect curses and the like. It's why they stuck me on the MOC; plus I have a sort of built-in lie detector. If a person's fallen off the rails magically, I can sense it, and they can't deny it." She raised one corner of her mouth in dry humor. "Well, they can, but it won't do them any good."

"Dang," Shelby said. "No wonder Emma and I can't slip anything past you."

"And you'll do well to remember that, young lady!” she said. “And by the way, I know about the pimple potion y'all made yesterday."

My little sister had the good grace to blush, and I laughed. "Pimple potion? Seriously?"

"There's this group of mean girls," she grumbled.

"And what if one of them is allergic to one of the ingredients?" Camille asked.

"Right?" I said. "And why mess with a potion for something like that when you can just—"

Camille cleared her throat and arched a brow at me.

"be the bigger person and ignore them?" I finished. What? Prove that wasn't what I was going to say.

"Speakin' of testing," Addy said, "when are you gonna take a peek inside Shelby's gourd and see what you can see, once and for all? It's been a few months since her accident, and she seems to be all systems go now. Is it still necessary?"

My little sister hadn’t grown into her gifts like a normal witch. They’d always been sporadic—and dangerous because Flynn witches tend to be powerful—but when she’d fallen off a ladder and hit her head, it was like a dam had burst.

"I'd still like to examine her," Camille said. "If for no other reason than to make sure there aren't any other booby traps floatin' around in there."

"Well then, there's no time like the present," Shelby said, scooting her chair closer to Camille.

"You mean, right now?" Camille asked.

Shelby had closed her eyes and slouched over in her seat to get comfortable. "Yup," she said, "right now. I'm tired of wondering, too."

Camille glanced at each of us like we were asking her to perform circus tricks, then shook her head and shrugged. "Okay, then. If there are no objections."

"Oh, we object," Beth said, "but we also want to make sure she's okay, and open up a path to get her off the MOC radar. No offense."

"Then let's do it." Camille reached out and took Shelby's head between her hands and shut her eyes. Shelby winced at first and Camille told her to relax. She did, taking a deep breath and visibly slouching down into her chair again. They sat silently for a couple of minutes. It was kinda freaky, because Camille's eyes moved underneath her lids like she was literally looking at something.

She took a deep breath and released it, then opened her eyes and dropped her hands from Shelby's head. Shelby peeped one eye open, and when she saw Camille studying her, she opened them both. "So? What did you find? It felt weird—almost tickly."

"There was definitely a residue left from where somebody had built some barriers in there," she said, smiling at the tickly comment, "but you're wide open now, at least as far as I can see. I can feel a low hum of energy, too. That's a little odd, but maybe it's just because you're nervous."

Camille looked around the table, speculating.

Addy snorted. "Don't go lookin' at us like that. I realize it may seem we're the only ones who coulda done it, but we didn't. And I'd bet my bottom dollar Rebecca"—our mother—"didn't do it, either."

"There's not much reason now for useless speculation, then," Camille said, standing up and brushing off her hands. "If we don't know who, then we don't know why. And I know it was none of you; I've seen you all do magic. Well, except for you, Addy. But I know it wasn't you, either. Like I said, magic's genetic. Every family has their own code, so to speak. Magic is just like other shared family traits—similarities are there if you know what to look for." She tipped her head toward Shelby. "And that's not Flynn magic."

"Well then that's clear as mud," Rae declared. "We're no closer than we were."

"Hold up, now," Beth said. "Now we know there's nothing else in there and that her magic isn't restricted. That's no small thing. So we are ahead. Thank you, Camille."

"My pleasure." She stood and went to the fridge, where she pulled out the tea pitcher and refilled her glass.

"So I been thinkin'," Shelby said.

"Don't hurt yourself," Addy said, smiling.

"Haha," Shelby said, shooting her the don't be a smart aleck look. "Seriously, though. Camille, did the crimes in Eagle Gap have the same things in common these do?"

Camille drew her brows together, confused. "What do you mean things in common?"

"You know," she said as if it were obvious, "like, the preacher probably doesn't get to feel a lot of booty even though he's a dude and has dude needs, since he's single and this is BFE Georgia where he's a bug under a microscope. He may as well have a chastity belt on for all the freedom he has to move around the dating scene. Lord help him if he fell off the Jesus wagon and picked up somebody at a bar."

I was starting to see where she was going. "And Gene Spencer controls his fighting because he stopped drinking. It's not a matter of not wanting to punch somebody; it's a matter of keeping it in check. And Kirsten obviously wanted to eat whatever she wanted."

"And maybe Roberta only donated because she didn't want to look bad or because she wanted something to brag about," Addy said. "She didn't do it because she cared about the causes; take away the limelight and she'da locked that cash so tight in her bank account, she'da ripped a dollar making a withdrawal."

Rae nudged me with her elbow. "And Hunter has a little bit of a hang-up about how people perceive how he does his job, between his screw-up in Indy and havin' to clean up the sheriff's office’s image after Hank smudged it all up with his greasy fingers for so many years."

"So it doesn't necessarily control them; it just takes away their thin layer of civility or self-control so they can do what they really want to do."

Shelby chugged the last of her tea and pushed to her feet. "Seems so to me. I gotta go. Emma was takin' a trig test and couldn't leave school, so I'm meetin' her at the diner for cheese fries."

Beth had been silent but her forehead was creased in thought. She held out her hand to stop Shelby. "This all makes sense, but there's one very important somethin' missing from the picture." She paused for a second, giving us a chance to think of it ourselves, a trait that used to make Rae and me crazy when we asked for "help" with our homework.

She put on her best duh face. "A connection. Like Addy said, we’ve got a reformed drunk—does he have a job?—a preacher, a cop, and a busybody with too much money on her hands. Oh, and a skinny kid with a bully-induced fat complex."

"Gene's a mailman," Shelby replied. "He brings Frito into the clinic, and sometimes he's wearing his uniform."

Addy scrunched her face up. "What in tarnation is a Frito?"

"Umm ... a corn chip?" Shelby said. "He brings all of us at the animal clinic in a single Frito. We share it." She rolled her eyes. "Frito is his shiatzu dog."

"Go ahead young lady,” Addy snapped. "Get too big for your britches. I'll make that pimple potion look like a tiptoe through the tulips."

Shelby stuck her tongue out at her. "That worked on me when you had a body because I figured there was about a fifty-fifty chance you'd actually do it. But now it just doesn't carry the weight."

Aunt Elizabeth put on her best witchy smile—the one I prided myself on and had learned from her. "She may not be able to pull it off," she said, wiggling her fingers, "but I still have full use of my body. And a really good garden. We can come up with something worse than a pimple potion for smart-mouthed teenagers with our eyes closed. You’d never see it comin’. Would we put it in your toothpaste? Your favorite cotton-candy-scented lotion?"

Shelby crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at them. "You two are evil."

Addy sidled next to Beth and it was truly terrifying to see them both wearing that smile. "Don't you forget it, sugar."

CHAPTER TWENTY

I had no plans for the rest of the afternoon, so I called Coralee up to see if she had any appointments. Truthfully, I was avoiding Hunter because, irrational as I knew I was being, I was irritated that maybe he only bent the rules because he thought I wanted him to, not because he thought he was doing the right thing despite the typical procedure. There was a world of difference between the two.

There was also a conversation with Olivia in my near future, and I needed to plan that one carefully. I was dead serious when I told Raeann I wouldn't hit her, but that didn't mean I'd be able to keep a civil tongue if she got smart with me. Since I needed her cooperation, that wouldn't do. So, I'd get my hair trimmed and maybe get a mani-pedi to help me get centered and still have plenty of time to catch her before she left her office.

Coralee booked me right in. When I got there, I was shocked to see I was the only client there. I scratched my head, then noticed Coralee and Belle were wearing expressions similar to turkey vultures waiting for cars to pass so they can get back to their roadkill.

I dropped my gaze to her book on the way past the front desk and noticed that the next hour had been cleared. Looked like I was the guest of honor. Alyse barely contained a smile when she saw me look at the book then glare at Coralee and Belle. "C'mon, Noelle. I've got the pedicure bath full already. I used some lavender and orange oils in it seein' as how you've had the day from hell."

That was both the best and worst thing about living in a small town. If you didn't know what you were doing, just ask somebody else. If you needed a detailed itinerary, go to the local beauty shop. If there were any blank spots, they'd use their keen deductive abilities to fill them in. They played a little fast and loose with the word accurate, and I hoped, for their sakes, that the term right hand to god wasn't a binding contract.

Still, Coralee had known my mama, and Belle was, of course, good buddies with Addy, so I sorta fell under protected status. Except in their betting pools—anybody was fair game for those. In fact, I'd been a recent topic. They'd bet on when Hunter and I would have our first date before he even cleared me as a murder suspect in Hank's death.

I kicked my boots off then peeled off my socks and climbed into the chair, sighing when my feet hit the hot water.

"So," Belle said, cutting straight to the chase. I saw you leavin' the courthouse with Raeann earlier, so I assume your sheriff came to his senses?"

I nodded without opening my eyes. The water felt delicious swirling around my ankles and toes and the scented oils were doing the trick already. "He did."

They waited a few minutes for me to continue, but when I didn't, Coralee took the initiative. "Well?"

I cracked an eye open. "Well what?"

"Well what changed his mind?"

Shrugging and closing my eye again, I said, "I don't know. He's as much a hothead as Addy is. I reckon he got his tail all twisted because he thought she was tellin' him how to do his job."

Belle heaved a sigh. "Men. I've been tellin' that girl for thirty years she can't just ride roughshod over 'em and expect good results. It takes a little finesse. You have to convince 'em it's their idea. Calvin spoiled her by just goin' along with whatever she said."

I smiled to myself. Just the fact that she even used the term finesse cracked me up, because she was as subtle as a sledgehammer.

"Well," I said, "Hunter got over it, anyway. He was waiting for me at the farm. I’d put the deed to the farm up for her bail, and he brought it back, along with papers releasing her on her own recognizance."

"Ooh," Alyse said as she dried my feet and started massaging my left arch. "What did he say?"

I was losing track of the conversation because she had magical thumbs, but managed to focus enough to answer. "I didn't talk to him other than to throw him off the property. Raeann stayed outside and he talked to her. She said he apologized and knew he’d been a jerk."

Coralee clucked and shook her head as she swept up hair from her last appointment. "Pride goeth before the fall." She could quote the Bible with the best of them. I figured she musta picked up a Cliff Note's version and memorized the ones she could use the most, because she sure wasn't a regular at Sunday school. Neither was I though, so I didn't have much room to talk.

"I reckon," I said, wondering how best to explain the current situation. I wasn't ready to go into the whole magic thing, but I had to make sure they took care of Reverend Gabe. "Did you talk to Angus?"

She didn't say anything so I forced my eyes open.

"Oh, sorry, sugar," she said. "I nodded but you musta had your eyes closed. Yeah, we ended up goin' with a spider, since it's cold out and there ain't really any bees."

"Brilliant," I said.

She preened, but motioned toward Alyse. "It was her idea, so I can't take credit. But we planted the seed in the most fertile spots. I suspect it's close to making the rounds if it hasn't already. Turns out she's allergic, so that was an unexpected bonus. We had a sit-down with Gabe, too. He had no idea why he did it and his head was a little fuzzy concernin’ the entire episode. With the help of a little subtle persuasion, he believes it, too, or at least wants it to be the truth bad enough that he swallowed it."

I grinned. "Y'all are the best, you know it?"

They waved me off. "Shoot, Sugar," Coralee said and winked. "What's the use of bein' Keyhole's lead information and data engineer if you can't use it to do a good turn once in a while?"

I turned serious as Alyse painted my toenails a sassy shade of purple. "So what about Roberta? How is she?" She may be tight-fisted and a little high-hatted, but Roberta was all right. I didn't wish her ill, especially considering she wasn't acting under her own steam.

Belle heaved a sigh. "She's not so good. You know how she feels about what folks think of her. Now she thinks everybody hates her. And worse yet, she's not far off the mark."

I puckered my lips and pushed then to the side, thinking. "I'm not sure how to fix that one," I said.

"Well, she oughtta be ashamed of herself," Alyse said.

Oh boy; I took a deep breath, then exhaled. No way to get around it, then. I was going to have to fill her in. She knew about me. Alyse's mom had been friends with my mom, but I'd just kinda hoped she'd let the whole Reverend Gabe thing slide as a one-off mishap, not thinking about Roberta. Belle and Coralee both likely had an inkling something was up, but Alyse tended to be more naive.

I thought we'd been in the clear because Gene didn't give a rat's furry behind what people thought of him, and nobody knew about Kirsten, but Roberta was horse of another color.

Just as the chitchat circle worked with a person, it could work against them tenfold, especially considering Roberta'd done her share and then some of passing on less-than-flattering goings-on that folks would have mightily preferred to keep quiet. Folks were gonna chew her up and spit her out in little pieces, and have a good time doing it.

I needed serious information manipulation and as Coralee so delicately phrased it, and I was sitting right in the pedicure chair of the community affairs and information headquarters.

I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees while Alyse slicked the top coat onto my last few toenails. "Here's the thing," I said, waiting for Alyse to glance up at me between toes. "There's somethin' y'all need to know about Roberta."

Three sets of sparkling eyes snapped to me. Blood was in the water and I had their attention.

"I'm telling you this because I need your help. In fact, the whole town needs your help." Okay, so that may have been laying it on a little thick, but then again, maybe not. "I need what I’m about to say to stay right here"—I pointed to the floor—"and I don't mean that in the typical, wait 'til she's gone and tell everybody way of keepin' it hush-hush. This is serious. It involves my family and our ... gifts.”

As expected, Coralee and Belle weren't surprised, but Alyse's eyebrows shot up and her mouth formed a little O. She crossed her heart. "I swear." I didn't need the same oath from the other two. I knew when it came down to the brass tacks, they had my back.

I explained the relevant, bare-bones details, leaving out the stuff Corinne had dealt with in Eagle Gap.

Coralee put her arm across her chest, then braced her other elbow against it, chin in hand. Belle floated back and forth with her arms behind her back. After several seconds, Coralee blurted, "She had a fever and was feelin’ a little out of it."

That actually wasn't bad because Roberta was about as big a hypochondriac as I'd ever met; she had some sort of ache or pain every day.

Belle nodded. "Somethin' fierce. She was complainin' that mornin' she didn't feel well. We told her the paperwork at the church would wait, but she said she couldn't bear to let the revver down."

I arched a brow at her. "Really? You don't think that's a little over-the-top?"

"Nope," she said. "Situations like this, you gotta go the extra few steps. Folks'll hear that civic-duty crap and roll their eyes ’cause they know she's a showboatin' blow-hard, but they'll decide that part's the real crock and think she just refused to go home even though she had a fever because she had appearances to keep up."

Damn, they were good.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I decided to skip the haircut in favor of getting my visit with Olivia out of the way. I needed to stop and talk to Hunter, too. I was cashing out when Coralee asked, "Is that what was wrong with Hunter, too?"

I sighed. "Yeah. Which really hurts me. If he didn't really want to help Rae and was only doin' it because of me, then I don't know how I feel about that. She's my family, and as much a part of me as, well, me."

"Honey," she said, touching my chin. "You're lookin' at it wrong. He was willing to help you and yours—he did help her—despite what people would think. He was willing to stick his neck out and make a decision he mighta had to defend in order to help family. That's a slippery slope, but he's got a good moral compass and he knew he was doin' the right thing, else he wouldn't have done it in spite of his fear of backlash."

It took me a minute to process all that.

"Look," she said, "lemme break it down. You're makin' a mountain out of a molehill, or worse. Let him apologize. Trust me. He means it."

She was right, as usual. I left her place feeling loads better. I'd gotten a much-needed pedicure, I'd set the wheels in motion to get Roberta back on track, and I was ready to talk to Hunter. The faded neon-orange for-lease sign in the building next door caught my eye once again. I frowned; it irritated the crap out of me when people didn't return business calls.

The more I thought about it, though, the more I wanted it, so I pulled out my phone and dialed again. This time, I got a message saying the number had been disconnected. I pulled my phone back and compared the numbers on the screen to the ones on the sign to make sure I hadn't transposed a number or something, but it was the right one.

I stared through the window, rubbing the back of my neck. I wasn't sure what to do next. The girls said he wasn't taking their phone calls, and for all I knew, he may have only been renting the place, too. Something beside the display case seemed to flash, but I decided when I moved closer it must have been a trick of the afternoon light.

Turning away from the building, I made my way to the courthouse, thinking over what Coralee had said. I felt bad for being such an ass in the yard, especially now that I was fairly certain he'd been unduly influenced. My brain ground to a screaming halt. He'd been fine just a few minutes before he turned into Superjerk, and hadn't left my sight. I ran through the scenario again in my head. We were talking, Smitty came in, Addy and Belle came in. That was all. The phone hadn't rang, so it couldn't have been that.

I'd known Smitty all my life and he didn't have an ounce of magical blood in him. As far as I knew, he didn't even know about magic. Addy and Belle were incorporeal and had no magic. That left ... me, or something that he touched, or maybe consumed before I got there. But I hadn't even seen any of the other victims so I couldn’t be the common denominator. Well, Kirsten. But not the other three. Still, there's no such thing as coincidence.

I was almost to Hunter's office before a chirpy voice snapped me back to reality.

"Noelle! How you doin' sugar?" Peggy Sue Dalton was the receptionist-slash-everything person in the sheriff's office as well as the county clerk's office. She had a couple girls under her who helped out and worked on her days off, but you could bet your bottom dollar if you needed to know something about the town or the properties in it, Peggy Sue was the girl to ask.

"I'm good, Peggy Sue, how 'bout you?" She looked great—she was wearing a cheery yellow dress and had her hair in her signature bun, but she’d taken to leaving out a couple of wispy curls that softened it and framed her plump face. Had you met her before Hank bit the big one, you wouldn't have recognized her. She’d been a cranky, miserable woman back then. Everybody hated going to the courthouse.

Come to find out, once Hank died and she wasn't being forced to rip people off anymore, she was a real peach. Yet another little way the wonderful person who knocked him off performed a service for the town and the people in it.

"I'm just dandy, sugar." She winked at me. "You here to see that spicy young man you're dating?"

"I am, actually. But I have a question for you, too. You know the building beside the Clip N Curl?"

"Sure, sure," she said as she took a sip of her coffee. "What do you need to know about it?"

"I'm thinkin' about renting it for my new business, but I can't get anybody to answer the number in the window, and now it says it's disconnected. Can you find out who owns it?"

"My pleasure, sugar. I think I remember, but would rather double check than speak off memory. You want me to look now?"

"Oh, no,” I said, raising my hand. “It's not that important. It's been empty this long and I can't imagine anybody interested in it would have any better luck gettin' ahold of them that I have. But just when you get a chance in the next couple days would be awesome."

"Don't you worry about it, honey. I'll have it for you in just a jiff." She got up and waddled off in the direction I knew they kept the tax records.

"I'm gonna head back to Hunter's office, okay?" I called after her.

"Of course, sweetie!" She waved me in that direction and continued down the aisle, her sensible ballet flats slapping against the tile.

"Knock, knock," I said, pecking against the doorframe of Hunter's office. He had his head bent over an open file and startled when I spoke.

I gave him a tentative smile when he waved me in. "I'm sorry," I said.

The warmth in his eyes made my heart stutter. "No, I'm sorry, Noe. I don't know what came over me, but I was a real nimrod.” He furrowed his brow. “It’s weird, but I don't even remember much about what happened. But you gotta know I'd never leave Rae, or any of you, sitting in jail unless I was truly convinced you did it. Shoot, for that matter, I didn't even leave Anna Mae in jail, and I was half certain she killed Hank."

To be fair, I'd considered it, too. Hank had stepped out on her dozens of times and he treated her like crap. Shoot, the monstrous moose head he'd hung in their living room would have been justification for murder as far as I was concerned. But Anna Mae just wasn't a killer.

"I know. And I shouldn't have lost my cool with you, either. Thank you for what you did for Rae." He leaned across the desk and I met him halfway for a quick peck—we weren't much for PDA, especially when he was at work.

Peggy Sue cleared her throat from the doorway, but was grinning like the cat that ate the cream when I jerked back into my own chair, red-faced to have been caught in a lip-lock with her boss.

"The paperwork took me a minute to find"—I snorted because it had only been like three and a half seconds—"and it's wonky."

"What paperwork?" Hunter asked.

I explained.

"Okay," he said, "but what's wonky about it?"

Peggy Sue motioned with her head, asking permission to come inside. Hunter waved her in.

"Well, Erol Braxton, the lovely man who ran a sandwich shop there—great fried baloney sandwiches!—also owned it."

"Okay," I said. "So do we know how to get in contact with him?"

"Well that's just it. We have a number and an address, but the file was in one of the piles that Hank had separated out. I keep them in a separate cabinet because I figured something was up with most every one of them, and apparently this one's no different. The tax invoice we sent him several months ago was returned," she said, pulling an envelope from the file and holding it up. "I just tried to call the number we had. It's probably the same one you have, because it's been disconnected."

"All right, so what's the property value so I can at least know whether I should offer to buy or ask to rent when we do find the guy?" I asked.

She chewed on her lip while she dug through the folder. "Ah, here it is." She named a number that made my eyebrows shoot up my forehead so fast I was lucky they didn't vault through the ceiling.

"Renting it is, then," I said. Do you have any alternate means of contacting him?"

She shook her head but didn't look up from the paperwork. She flipped the top sheet over and read it, then skimmed the next one, her brows gathered together in thought. "I sure don't, honey. But that's not all." She flipped the first page back over, seeming to double-check something.

"I'm on pins and needles, here," I said. "Am I gonna be able to track him down to rent it, or not?"

She looked up at me, her watery blue eyes wide. "I don't think you're gonna have to. His taxes were due in July, which is probably why Hank, the big A-hole"—the strongest language I'd ever heard her use, FYI—"had the file tucked back. He was hopin' to get it for taxes after he and his knuckle-draggers ran the poor man out of town."

Peggy Sue's cheeks were scarlet because she was so mad by that point.

"He couldn't stand that Mr. Braxton wasn't exactly one for the ladies, if you get my drift, and tortured the man mercilessly, and Erol was so kind. He brought us sandwiches the first day he opened, and Hank smart-mouthed him and made a show of throwing the sandwich in the trash. Course, he dug it out and ate it as soon as the man left. I was so embarrassed, and sad to see him leave."

Coralee and the girls hadn't exactly been jumping for joy when Mr. Braxton left, either. They figured as long as he was a decent neighbor, they didn't care what—or who—he did in his spare time.

"So what does that mean for me?" I was getting a little cranky, mostly because I hadn't eaten anything all day except the mystery-meat taquito.

She drew her brows down and I blew out a breath. "I'm sorry, Peggy Sue. Just hearin' about Hank’s BS sets my teeth on edge, just like it does yours."

"I know sweetie, and I just get so het up every time I remember the look on Mr. Braxton's face. He was crushed. Anyway, the long and short of it is that taxes are past due and both invoices—the original and the delinquent notice—are in here returned, so the place is up for taxes."

"Weirdly enough," she said, continuing to evaluate the paperwork, "it was auctioned on the courthouse steps while I was on vacation and nobody bid. If the date on here's right, it was the Monday mornin' of the fishin' tournament." She scowled. "The poopy-head scheduled it on a day when he knew everybody'd be down at the lake."

I smiled. Peggy Sue was the only person I knew who could make poopy-head sound worse than the f-word. That was foul language indeed for her.

Then it occurred to me that was the day after Max was murdered. Courthouse auctions drew limited crowds anyway because everybody was either broke or working or just didn't know about them. Hank had always scheduled 'em on Monday mornings just so he could invite his cronies in when there was somethin' good, then would tack a percentage on top of the dirt-cheap taxes and make himself quite the tidy profit. Since he’d been dead, it was unlikely anybody even knew the place was auctioned. Shoot, if Coralee hadn’t known—and I promise you she didn’t, because she would have bought it—it was a sure bet nobody knew.

"But there ya have it, plain as the nose on your face," she said, jabbing at the paperwork with her stubby little finger. "Taxes weren't paid, notices were properly served, and the place was auctioned, but nobody bid. It's yours for the pickin' sugar."

My mind spun a little as the repercussions of what she was saying echoed through my head. "So, how much are the taxes?"

She flipped through the paperwork for the most recent appraisal, then did some quick mental calculations. "As far as I can figure, and this is a ballpark figure until I can do the exact math, mind you, the taxes should come to around twenty-five hundred bucks."

I plopped backward into my chair as the wind rushed out of me. "You're telling me I can own the place flat-out for a couple grand?"

"That is exactly what I'm telling you, Miss Sunshine."

She was smiling so big you'd think it was her that won the lottery, and I set aside my personal aversion to touchy-feelies and scooped her up in a hug. "Ms. Peggy, you just made my year. You're one of my favorite people ever, and not just because of this."

She waved me off, still smiling. "Is that so? Then why didn't I see a bag of pastries in your hand when you came through my door?"

"Oh, between this and the good turn you did me on the farm”—she’d set my taxes to rights within days of Hank dying—“you're set for life in pastries! Just name the kind and the flavor!"

Now she was blushing. "Go on, now. Get your checkbook if you have it with you and we can make this legal. If you want, I'll go ahead and draw up your county business permit, too."

Something occurred to me as I made a mad dash to my truck, and I pulled up short. I was doing to Mr. Braxton exactly what I'd been afraid somebody would do to me last year when Hank jerked my taxes up on me in order to force me to sell the farm. I was taking somebody's property out from underneath him for basically nothing.

I rubbed my hand over my face on the way back inside, wallet in hand. That woudn’t do.

"What's the matter, Noelle?" Peggy Sue asked.

I explained my concerns. "I'll do this, but I want to keep looking for him and if we find him in a reasonable time and he didn't want to lose the property, then he can buy it back off me, or we'll figure something out."

Hunter came around and gave me a squeeze. "And that right there, along with about a million other little reasons, is why I love you."

I felt him stiffen at the same time I did. We hadn't exactly gotten around to that part of the relationship yet and I was pretty sure he hadn't meant to do it that way, if his expression was anything to go by.

I decided to offer him an out if he wanted it. I nudged him with my elbow, teasing. "And here I thought it was the pastries."

His body relaxed, but I couldn't see his face without looking up from the check I was signing and making it obvious.

"Oh yeah. I forgot for a minute ... those blueberry danishes, especially," he said, taking the out. I breathed a sigh of relief. That was a huge step and I didn't want to take it while standing in the middle of his office. There was a time and a place, and that wasn't it.

I finished signing the checks and she handed me the deed and my permit, and it really was as simple as that. I was officially in business for myself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I was so dazed when I left the office that I almost forgot to go talk to Olivia. I was holding the deed—the certificate of ownership!—to my very own building. I'd ask Matt to go through it for me with a fine-toothed comb to make sure it wasn't going to burn down around my ankles, then I'd think about what I wanted to do after that.

As I made my way up the back stairway of the courthouse to Olivia's office, I thought about what I was going to say. I could count all the civilized conversations we'd ever had on one hand and have a few fingers left; usually it was barbs and insults, spiced up with the occasional punch or hair-yank. This time though, Rae's future was on the line and I needed her to cooperate.

I took a deep breath as I stopped in front of her office door. Rainbows and puppies and the expression on her face the last time I pushed her down in the mud. There, those thoughts were enough to put me in a good mood. I knocked and hoped she was there while I was still smiling.

"Come in," she called in her nasally whine.

She glance up when I pushed the door open, and confusion then irritation crossed her face. "What do you want? I'm busy."

"Yeah, I have no doubt," I said. "Makeup and mindless—" Be nice, I thought as I moved in front of her desk and took a seat in one of two hard-plastic chairs. "I'm sure you're busy and I'm sorry to bother you at work, but I need to ask you a couple questions."

She looked at me, then at the doorway, uneasy.

I scowled. "I'm not here to kick your ass," I said. "Seriously, I just wanna ask what you saw this morning."

She sneered. "I saw your BFF killin' mine," she snarled.

Breathe, Noelle. "Did you actually see her kill her, or did you just see her kneelin' beside her?"

"She was kneelin' beside her, holdin' the ends of the scarf in her hands." She was still frowning and glancing toward the door, but at least her tone had shifted from snobby to mildly huffy.

"Thank you,” I said. “And was Katie alive when you first saw them, or she already ... like that?"

Olivia snorted. "She was already like that, as you say."

"All right," I said, "Had you planned to meet her there?"

"No, I just happened to walk into the skankiest establishment in town right after she did. Total coincidence." Her eyes were glittering with contempt and I knew I only had about a minute and a half left before I lost my civility, too.

I rolled my eyes. "Look, skip it, okay? Angel says y'all come in regularly when Rae's off. Says there are usually four of you. I figured you, Katie, and Angelica, but who's the fourth?"

"Not that it's any of your business but Bunny Scott usually joins us."

I racked my brain for a minute, trying to think of who she was talking about, then I remembered a troll of their same ilk moved to town right before graduation and joined their more hair than brains club. "Oh, Big Boobs Bunny," I said before I could catch myself.

She snarled. "Yes. Get out of my office."

I held out my hand. "Hang on a second. I shouldn't have said that. Were both of them meetin' y'all today, too?"

When she didn't say anything, I narrowed my eyes and said, "Answer, or I'm going to wait for you in the parking lot and beat it out of you."

She glanced at the door, then back at me, then narrowed her eyes. "No, It was just gonna be me and Katie." She looked away from me when she said it, and I had the distinct feeling she was lying.

I stood and glared at her. "Tell me the truth."

Her eyes darted toward the hallway and I caught a hint of movement. "I'll tell you the truth,” she said, louder than she had to. “Your beast of a bestie killed poor Katie!" She burst into dramatic sobs and I crinkled my brow, wondering what on earth she was doing. Everyone knew blow-up dolls don't cry. Then a nondescript guy—seriously, he was one of those people who pop to mind when somebody says average—poked his head in.

"Livie? Everything okay?"

Livie? I mouthed to myself. Really?

She waved her hankie at him—where had she been hiding that?—and batted her conspicuously dry eyes. "Yes, James. Thanks for checkin', honey."

"Oh for the love of God," I said, rolling my eyes so hard I almost tipped over backwards.

For dramatic effect, I leaned over her desk and patted her hand. I'd officially used up all my limited supply of nice. "There, there, Livie. Don't cry. I'm sure the antibiotics will help." She fired laser beams at me with her eyes.

"I must be off now, dear," I said, rising from my chair and sticking my nose in the air.

I sauntered to the doorway and paused beside James. Cupping my hand to the side of my mouth, I whispered loud enough for her to hear, "She'll be okay. She just found out she has the clap and is worried about what it's gonna do to her unborn calf."

She screeched as I made myself scarce, feeling like the day just couldn't get any better.

I was almost to my truck, twirling my keys on my finger and whistling, when I saw the mystery woman at a shop across the square, facing me but examining a rack of sidewalk-sale muumuus like they were the next big fashion statement.

"Hey!" I yelled, vaulting the last few steps to the street. She glanced up when she saw me coming and turned, but I was faster than she was this time. I flicked my wrist and the rack fell over and tripped her. That bought me a few seconds, but I had to wait for a break in traffic.

I couldn't see what type of shoes she was wearing, but I crisscrossed my fingers in her direction, hoping for laces. Unfortunately, a little boy of about six was walking by, and I did something I hadn't done in years—I hit the wrong person with a spell. Well, I hit the wrong shoes to be exact. He tumbled forward and I barely managed to whisk some of the fallen muumuus over in front of him before he hit the concrete with his elbows. His mother looked at the muumuus then at the sky, apparently wondering where the wind had come from.

Cursing myself again, I looked up and the woman was gone. Great.

I rolled my fingers and retied the kid's shoes before he made it back to his feet, then shuffled back to my truck, pulling up Camille's number as I did. Normal people tended not to just up and disappear into thin air, so I figured I'd better let her know there was a new witch in town. I just wished I could figure out why she looked so familiar. It turns out, everything would have fallen into place then and there had I been able to.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I started the truck to get the heater running, then sat there and debated my next move. Hunter had gone out to talk to Katie's folks, so he was out of the equation for a bit. I wanted a quiet afternoon, but had to share my news with Rae. That wasn't something I wanted to tell her over the phone. I didn’t want to play family politics, so I decided to get everybody together and tell them at once.

I texted Shelby and asked her to meet me at Bobbie Sue's, then did the same with Rae. I called Matt, but he didn't answer. I knew he'd be home by then and was probably puttering around, fixing one thing or another. He and Hunter had gone to an auction a couple of weeks back and picked up a wrecked sport bike and were in the process of rebuilding it. If I had to lay money, I'd say he was in the garage working on it.

Fortunately, Addy popped in right then to see how my conversation with Olivia had gone, so I asked her to track him down for me. He wasn't a huge fan of cell phones, as we discussed earlier, and didn't keep his on him all the time.

"You look like you just won the lottery," she said, narrowing her eyes. "What did you do?"

I raised my brows. "I didn't do anything—I swear! Why can't I just look happy?"

She puckered her lips and studied me. "Because you just made up with your boy toy and you were in Olivia's airspace. Those are two good reasons to make me wonder why you're smiling like a possum eatin' pumpkin seeds. I know you, girly."

I heaved a sigh. "It so happens that I do have a reason for bein' in such a good mood, and you'll find out along with everybody else as soon as I can round y'all up. Will you go ask Matt to meet us at Bobbie Sue's, please?"

She crossed her arms and I could tell she was trying to read me, but I slapped on my poker face and waited her out. "Fine," she said and popped out.

After texting Rae and Shelby to let them know, I swiped through my contacts for Camille's number. She didn't answer, so I shot her a text, too. Finally, I texted Anna Mae—dinner was gonna be on me.

The truck's heater was about to cook me so I turned it down, cracked a window, and drove the five blocks to the restaurant. I was the first one there, so I went back to say howdy and was happy to see Justin sitting on a stool at a prep table with Earl, helping him make his secret sauce. I poked my nose over to peek at the bottles and jars lined up.

"Hey! No peekin'," Justin said, blocking my view with his little body. "If you see, I'll have to kill ya."

I laughed even though he was only half kidding. Earl didn't joke when it came to that recipe, and I had no doubt he stressed that to Justin. I held my hands out and stepped back, trying to look serious. "I wouldn't want you to have that on your conscience."

He wrinkled his nose at me. "I'd tell ya, but I'm sworn to secrecy and a man's gotta keep his word."

Reaching around him to pluck a steaming rib off a stack Earl'd just brought in from the smoker, I nudged him with my elbow. "You're right about that, brat. Words to live by."

Earl'd caught the last of our conversation. "Or die by, if he goes tellin' my secret recipe." He made a face at Justin, then reached out and fist-bumped him. I was glad to see them getting along so well.

Bobbie Sue pushed through from the cooler with a huge tub of coleslaw in her hands. She thunked it down onto a stainless-steel worktable and turned to me scowling, hands on hips. "I got a bone to pick with you, missy. We were wonderin' if we were gonna have to send a rescue party out. Why did we hear about Raeann second-hand?"

I looked at my feet. "It just happened this morning. Still, no excuse. I'm sorry."

She hmphed, partially pacified. "You know I worry."

Bobbie Sue had been friends with Mama, and looked at us as her own. "I know. But I have other happy news, and I called everybody here to tell all y'all at once. They should be here soon."

"Now just wait a cotton-pickin' minute," she said, crossing her arms and blowing a wisp of hair off her forehead. "I expect you owe it to me to tell me first, seein' as how you didn't bother to loop me in this morning at all."

I hedged because I really did want to tell everybody together, but she had a point. I reached for the envelope I'd tossed on the shelf by the door on my way in and pulled out the deed.

She moved closer to look at it and her eyes went wide. A huge grin spread across her face, then faded. "That's primo property. How on earth did you get that with what you had left? Tell me you didn't sell part of the farm."

Since Addy'd passed, and even before, people looking to develop or establish lakeside businesses had approached us sporadically about buying parts of the farm, but it was never something we'd been interested in. And as long as it was in my hands, the farm was staying in one piece.

"Absolute not!" I drew back, giving her the have you lost your mind look. "You oughtta know better than that!"

"Well then how, pray tell, did you manage to get the deed? Obviously, since you're holding it, the place is yours free and clear."

I explained it to her and her jaw dropped. "Oh, honey! I knew good things were in store for you. You always put out so much good. Now it's finally comin' back to you."

Raising a brow, I said, "I don't know about all that. I figure I got lucky. Hank had it tucked back so the auction fell on a day when nobody'd likely be there."

Her smile returned and she did something she rarely did—she pulled me into a hug, then pushed me back to arms' length. "I'm so happy for you, sweetie!"

Earl came around and wrapped me up, lifting me off the ground, and the grin he offered was genuine and huge. That was even more unusual than Bobbie Sue's show off affection.

Justin sighed. "So this means I have two places to work, now?"

I laughed because, aside from his home chores at both houses, he spent most of his time playing video games or playing outside, even when he was just hanging out at the restaurant. The only time he "worked" was when we were doing something he was interested in learning to do. To be fair though, that was a lot. He had a mind like a sponge and would pester you to death with his questions.

"Yeah," I told him. "I just don't know how we managed before you came into our lives."

"Have you been through the place yet?" Earl asked.

"Yeah. Coralee gave me a quick tour—oh crap! I'll be right back. I gotta scoot up to her place and grab the keys before she closes. She had them so she could keep the place lookin' decent."

"Scoot," Bobbie Sue said, motioning me toward the door.

I decided to walk since it was just a few blocks. It would be as fast as taking the truck and I’d still be back a matter of fifteen minutes or so.

When I her asked for the keys, I had to dodge a dozen questions from Coralee and Belle. Coralee scowled and shook her head when I wouldn’t provide details, her giant 80s hair moving with her like a helmet. It was still a wonder to me how she maintained that height and feathering, even with all the Aqua Net she used.

“Come up to Bobbie Sue’s. I’m gonna explain it to everybody at the same time.”

"I can't leave just yet. I got two appointments back to back. Belle can come and then bring me back whatever the big news is if you don't want to share with me yourself." She looked hurt, and I suspected she was a bit miffed because she wasn't gonna be the first to get the dirt.

"Look, I'd tell you if you could come up, but I want to tell everybody all at once. Rae doesn’t even know yet."

She heaved a put-upon sigh. "Fine, but Belle will come, I'm sure."

Coralee's mentor nodded. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Matter of fact, I'll just come now. Give you some company on the walk."

We were almost back to the restaurant when I heard tires screeching and a man's voice calling my name behind me.

"Watch out," Belle hollered, shoving her hands through me as she instinctively tried to push me out of the way. I looked over my shoulder and barely managed to dive to the side before a big pink caddy barreled up onto the curb and over the fire hydrant I’d just walked past.

Had I waited a split second longer, or if that hydrant hadn't been there to stop her, I'd have been a dead woman. As it was, the caddy was hung on it, water spewing out either side.

"Honey, you okay?" Belle was hovering over me, frantic.

"Yeah," I said after I made sure all my fingers and toes moved. "I think so." As soon as I climbed to my feet, she popped out of sight.

Angus swept in. "Gosh, Noelle. I thought for sure you'd be joinin' us at any second. I tried to warn ya, but she came out of the blue, hell bent for leather straight at ya."

There was no questioning who was driving. There was only one pink caddie in Keyhole Lake—wouldn't nobody else be caught dead in one.

I took a few cautious steps toward the driver's door, avoiding the spraying water. The airbag had deployed and Olivia was hunched over the deflated balloon, her head on the steering wheel. I strode toward her, trying to make sense of the whole thing. My brain was still rattled and I was cold—no doubt in shock.

Reaching through the window, I prodded her arm. "Olivia?" No response.

I didn't want to shake her because if the nimrod had hurt herself, I didn't want to do more damage. The way she was, she'd own my farm if she got so much as a migraine, all because I was trying to make sure she wasn't dead.

She groaned and started to move, then picked her head up and looked at me, her eyes glazed.

I gave her a minute to focus, then asked again, "Are you okay?"

Her head wobbled and she blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. Then her lip curled as she realized where she was. "What did you do to me?"

"Me?" I asked, my voice an octave higher than usual. "I didn't do anything. You tried to plow me over with this monstrosity you call a car."

She crinkled her brow. "I did no such thing. I don't even remember pulling out of the courthouse."

Before I could question her further, the rest of the crew rushed from inside and Hunter's truck was barreling up the street toward us. It was barely stopped when he leapt out, running toward me.

"Are you okay?" He grasped me by the upper arms and gave me a once-over.

"Yeah, I'm all right." I motioned toward the caddie, where Olivia was trying to push open her door. "I don't know about her, though."

He went over and pulled it open. Once she climbed out and took a few steps, he fired all the what and why questions at her. She just looked up at him and blinked.

"As I was just telling the hick you're dating, I don't even remember leaving the courthouse lot. What happened?" She was coming around; her eyes were clear and she took a few solid steps to the curb. When she saw the front of her car, she turned to me, enraged. "What did you do to my car? Do you have any idea how much makeup I had to sell to get that?"

I held out my hands to defend myself again, then took a deep breath and snapped my mouth shut. Something was squirrelly.

Hunter turned to me and asked me to go over what had happened. It took me two seconds to relay the information because it was pretty cut and dried.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Did anything happen in her office today?"

I looked at the sidewalk and squirmed a little bit.

"Say you didn't hit her."

I snapped my eyes up to meet his. "Of course I didn't hit her! We were in the courthouse for cripes' sake. I'm a lot of things—stupid's not one of them."

"She's not lying," Olivia said, surprising me. "She was her typical white-trash self, but she didn't hit me."

I raised a brow and decided to let the comment pass.

"So you just tried to kill her for no reason?"

"What?" she said, her eyebrows shooting into her hair. "I didn't try to kill her!" She threw her hands in the air and pulled out her phone. "Y'all have obviously lost your everlovin' minds. I'm calling a tow truck."

Hunter stepped forward. "That's a good idea, but you're also under arrest."

She twisted around, nearly falling off the curb. "For what?"

I stepped forward. "Hunter, I don't know what's going on here, but—"

"But nothing, Noelle. You hate each other. You said mean things to her today and she no doubt said mean things back. You were the only one on the sidewalk and what? She just accidentally ran up on that exact spot while she was texting or something? I don't think so. Based on my personal observations, she's a scheming, malicious person who is entirely capable of killing you."

"Hunter, no. I can't stand her, and trust me—the prospect of making fun of her because she’d look hideous in orange is appealing, but she wouldn’t try to kill me."

He was looking back and forth between us, trying to make up his mind.

"Seriously," Olivia said. "She's onto something, as bad as I hate to say it. There's no way killin' her is worth bein' forced to wear orange for the rest of my life."

Bobbie Sue'd been watching me carefully, and she stepped forward. "I don't have a dawg in this fight," she said, examining Olivia, "but I'd say it's up to Noelle to determine whether she thinks any harm was done."

Hunter was wavering, and finally took a deep breath and released it. "Noelle, you're not willing to file charges?"

I shook my head.

He searched the crowd. "And nobody else saw what happened?"

Belle and Angus were conspicuously absent, even though they couldn't technically testify. Rae's brows were drawn together and Shelby looked like she wanted to beat Olivia herself. But nobody said a peep.

Hunter threw up his hands. "Olivia, I guess you're free to go. Everybody else, back inside."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up, and Rae followed me. She took the tweezers from the first-aid kit to pick the gravel out of my hands and I yanked my hand back, putting it under running water instead. She was lethal with tweezers.

"Are you sure you did the right thing by letting her go?" she asked as she poured peroxide over my palm. "I mean, the chick's been unhinged since grade school and you did go torment her in her own den today. Maybe she finally lost it."

I thought about what she said for a minute. "I don't see it. She's had almost thirty years to kill me if she wanted and our exchange today was a slumber party compared to how things usually go."

She shrugged as she dabbed antibacterial ointment on the road rash. "If you say so."

"I do. You don't seriously think I'd miss a legit chance to put her in jail do you?"

She snorted as we left the bathroom. "I don't reckon you would."

Things were pretty much back to normal by the time we rejoined everybody, or at least everybody was putting on a darn good show to get the ball rolling. It felt a little forced at first, but everybody seemed intent on making sure the Olivia incident didn’t detract from my good news.

Bobbie Sue surprised me by busting out some bubbly she kept in the back for special occasions; you'd be surprised how many proposals and bridal dinners happened there. Rae arched a brow when she noticed it was the good stuff.

After everybody was seated, I stood from my position at the head of the table and cleared my throat. "So, I guess y'all are wonderin' why I called you here."

"Yeah," Anna Mae said, "If you won the lottery, we're doin' another cruise and you're payin' this time!"

After somebody had taken it upon themselves to put Hank out of our misery and he'd been properly planted, Anna Mae'd taken us all on a girls-only cruise and it had been a blast.

I smiled and shook my head. "Nothin' nearly that grand, but I wouldn't mind goin' on another one. Except now"—I reached into the envelope to pull out the deed and held it, together with the keys, up for all to see—"I'll have to schedule it around my new business!"

Belle, Addy, and Cheri Lynn swooped in to get a closer look, and for those with corporeal forms and normal vision that couldn’t read the text from their positions, I said, "I managed to pick up the place beside Coralee's for the taxes! The courthouse had a lien on it, the owner has disappeared off the face of the planet, and now it's all mine!"

Cheers and whistles erupted, nearly rupturing my eardrums and causing other diners to stare at us, wondering what the big deal was. Raeann, with her usual flair, stood up and made the public announcement. "Noelle here just bought the place next to the Clip N Curl and will be openin' up her new place, Reimagined, and sellin' restored and re-purposed furniture and decorations. She's gonna need your help findin' good pieces to breathe new life into, so if you got a barn fulla stuff you think might do her any good, let her know!"

Congratulations circled the whole place; most of them knew me, if for no other reason than I'd worked there for the last four years.

After everything died down, Rae and Anna Mae came around and hugged me. Anna Mae's eyes sparked. "Now maybe we can go lookin' for stuff together! I love goin' to the sales, but sometimes it's lonely goin' alone." She glanced at Rae. "The three of us are gonna have so much fun!"

"Count us in," I told her. "Between all of us, we'll hear of more sales and come into contact with more people." I clinked my glass on theirs. "Here's to finding really cool junk!"

"Hear, hear," they said in tandem.

It looked like I'd already made my first business contact, even if she was already one of my closest friends. Reimagined was now a thing rather than an idea.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Louise was our server, and somewhere toward the end of the evening, Max—the ghost, not the donkey—popped in to check on her and to deliver a message from her mom. When he saw us there, he floated over to say hello.

"Hey, Max," I said. "How was the trip?"

"Bout what you'd expect from a trip around the country," he said in his typical gruff tone. I'd gotten to know him right after he was murdered. He literally showed up a few minutes afterward to report his own death. At first, I'd just thought he was a cantankerous old coot, which was true, but he was also one of those old-school guys who just doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve. It was there, though; you just had to look a little deeper.

"So it was good then. Louise said you and Emily had a great time. Did you get to see everything you wanted?"

He smiled, a rare thing for him in my experience. "Yeah, I reckon we did at that. We spent a couple extra days in Yellowstone. It's bigger than we figured." He glanced around and noticed the champagne flutes sitting around. "So what's the big occasion?"

A huge smile spread across his face and he turned to Hunter, jerking his chin in my direction. "You finally work up the nerve to put a ring on her? I remember when I proposed to Em ... carried that thing around for two weeks 'fore I finally just popped the question while we was sittin' at the drive-in."

Hunter's face had gone beet-red and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "Uh, no," Raeann said. "She got the deal of a lifetime on the building next to the Clip N Curl. We're celebratin' her first official night as a business owner."

He cleared his throat. "Well I shore did read that one wrong, I reckon. Sorry about that, son."

By that time, Hunter'd seen the humor in it and waved him off. "No problem, man. I can see where you'd think that."

Honestly, between the bubbly and the presence of my entire family, and the remnants of the whole giant Costco cheesecake Bobbie Sue'd brought out, I could see why he'd come to that conclusion.

"So," he said to Matt in an obvious attempt to move on. "I assume you went through it and did her inspection? Was everythin' all right? Some of them buildings over there are gettin' old and still have copper pipes and asbestos."

I sucked in a breath. I hadn't even thought of that, and panic crashed over me. What if it did? That would cost way more than what I had in my account.

Matt must have seen me starting to hyperventilate. "I haven't yet, but I'm sure that if we run into something like that, we'll work something out, seein' as how she helped you out and all."

"Course we would," Max said as if it was a given. "Ain't no way she could afford to pay someone to do that, and we're licensed for it. Sides, I wouldn't have any other crew workin' on her place. Never know what kinda shoddy work she'd get."

"Really? You'll help me if it comes to that?" I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good grief, Noelle," Louise said. "I can't believe you'd even worry about that. We're all family."

I smiled and pulled my napkin from my lap and tossed it on my plate. "Then let's go take a look at the place. I didn't get to see much of it when I went through with Coralee other than just a quick peek in each room, and the light went out in the basement before I even made it down the stairs."

Everybody stacked their plates and Rae, Shelby, and Anna Mae helped me clear the table. Within just a few minutes, we had it set to rights; I figured it was the least we could do since Bobbie Sue'd refused to take a penny for the meal.

I loaded them into the dishwasher—a task so easy I didn’t bother using magic—and then invited Earl and Bobbie Sue to go with us. Earl told us to go on since it wasn't quite closing time yet, but Bobbie Sue and Justin grabbed their jackets and followed me out of the kitchen.

I noticed she was quiet, and the air around her seemed heavy. Justin rushed ahead of us to where the guys were waiting. She looked after him and a shadow of worry crossed her face. "Everything okay?" I asked.

She took a deep breath and puffed it out through her cheeks. "Yeah. It's just ... the final home visit is tomorrow," she said. "What if they find us lackin' again? Or think we're too old?"

She was talking about the visit from the county to determine their fitness to adopt Justin. Years before, they'd been turned down because they'd both been workaholics and they hadn't built the restaurant enough that they could afford to hire enough staff so somebody could be at home with him. Opinions on the “proper” way to raise a kid had been different back then.

I put my arm around her and for the first time ever, she felt frail. That made me mad more than anything else, because there wasn't a stronger woman in the state than the one walking beside me, or one with a bigger heart, either. I stopped her and turned so I could look in her eyes.

"You listen to me and listen good. You're barely fifty and have more energy than somebody half your age. Lord knows I can't keep up with you. Your house is always spotless, you make more than enough money to take care of him, and, most important, you love him and he loves you. It's gonna be fine."

She smiled as she shrugged into her jacket. "You're a good kid, you know that?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Just statin' the facts. I'll be there for you, and by this time tomorrow, it'll be official. You know most of this has just been a matter of checkin' off the boxes anyway; Janelle thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread."

Janelle Perkins, Justin's overworked caseworker, had been so glad when not one but two suitable families had stepped up to care for him that I think she'd probably wept to have one less homeless or abused kid to worry about. When Justin had fallen into my path—literally—he'd been both. And now he wasn't, and it was going to stay that way.

Dark had fallen and the temperature had dropped. The warm snap was definitely over. That was about typical of Georgia that time of year. We were definitely warmer than northern states, but we did get cold. Most of the time it didn't get to bitter temps, but that night was one of the cooler ones we'd had.

We pulled our coats around us and I wished we'd decided to drive rather than walk off our suppers, but it was only a few blocks and lord knew with the slab of cheesecake I ate on top of the ribs and garlic bread, I needed the exercise.

I had to jiggle the key a little in the lock to get it to open and wondered idly where the money had come from to keep the lights on; something I'd have to follow up on because it might be another way to track down the previous owner. I knew maybe I was lookin' a gift horse in the mouth, but I'd liked Mr. Braxton.

"Wow," Rae said when she walked through to the kitchen. "You have everything you need to bake here, too." She walked over and turned the dial on the stove to see if the burner kicked on. Gas hissed out, but it didn't flare to life. She quickly shut it off. "I guess that explains the box of matches on the shelf."

Max swooped over and bent down for a closer look. "That's an easy fix." He glanced at Matt. "Put that on the list. The last thing we need is for her to blow herself up."

Matt, used to taking orders from him by then, just nodded while he wandered around, looking at the outlets and ceiling and pecking on the walls. "It seems everything's sound so far. No signs of water leaks. ’Course I haven't looked at the hot water heater or in the basement. When was it built?"

I pulled out the deed and scanned it. "Says here 1989. Why?"

"Phew." Max said. "You don't have to worry about asbestos, then."

That alone was enough to make me breathe a sigh of relief. Ever since he'd mentioned it, I'd been kicking myself for jumping in headfirst. It'd be just my luck to get a building for practically nothing then have to spend twice what it was worth to keep from getting lung cancer just by walking through the front door.

"Still, we'll check the attic to make sure the insulation's good. Back then, some builders were still shady about stuff people couldn't see," Matt said. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, though."

We wandered through the rest of the upper floor and I realized there was another small room off the office that I'd missed on my way through the first time. Cheri Lynn found it when she floated through the wall. When I pushed open the office door to find the door to it, I realized it was situated behind the office door. It ended up being a little storage room.

"They probably added the office later to make it bigger." Hunter looked around. "It looks like this used to be one big space, so that was probably sectioned off for cleaning supplies or whatever. Does anybody know what the place was in the beginning?"

"It was a shoe store, if memory serves," Max said.

"Oh, memory serves," Addy said. "I spent a fortune in here."

Matt scratched his head, then put his ball cap back on. "There's no tellin' what that little room was for. Maybe a little break room or somethin'. Don't matter much. It's easy enough to move the door."

I shrugged as I pulled it open. "It's not a big deal. That seems like a lot of work when the door it has already works." I swiveled my head because for the third time, I'd caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Scrunching my forehead, I scanned the area where I'd seen it, but there was nothing to be seen.

Cheri Lynn noticed me looking and tilted her head in question. I motioned her over with a slight jerk of my head as the others filed back into the main space.

I explained in a quick, whispered sentence. She pinched her lips together and looked casually in that direction. "Sure, sugar, I'll go ask Addy if she remembers the original owner." Her statement threw me for a loop for a second, until I realized she was summoning the others to help her check things out.

Meanwhile, I noticed a dusty box of light bulbs on a shelf and grabbed one, remembering at the last minute that the one in the basement was blown. Max, Hunter, and Matt were stepping off measurements—don't ask me what for—and the girls were in the kitchen.

I pushed through the doors and found them checking out the appliances and pointing out where this or that would go, and starting a list of what I'd need. "What on earth would she need with that?" Bobbie Sue asked. "That's definitely space she could use for rolling out dough."

"I guess you're right," Raeann said. "I was thinkin' more along the lines of uppin' productivity, but she's not usin' this place as a bakery or shop. Still, a toaster oven's handy to have."

"So is empty table space when you gotta roll out cinnamon rolls," Bobbie said, arching a brow at her. “I think I can speak from experience.”

I smiled. I loved 'em all, but nobody could accuse us of being weak-willed.

"Okay, ladies," I said. "If y'all are done designin' the kitchen, let's move on to the basement. I haven't seen it yet, so it'll be new to me, too."

I poked my head back into the front room. "Guys? Wanna check out the basement?"

Of course they did, because that's where all the manly-man stuff was. Just to make them happy—not because I was a little wigged out because of my last attempt—I handed Hunter the light and motioned them ahead.

As soon as I opened the door, that dusty, damp smell that all basements share wafted out of the yawning darkness and I shivered. Matt slid a mini flashlight off his belt and flicked it on, lighting the way down the steps, then flashing it over the ceiling. I tossed a small light ball into the main space. The ceiling was low, so Hunter only had to stretch a little to remove the old bulb once he found it.

Before he could screw in the new one, a horrible screeching sound similar to a herd of mating cats echoed through the darkness and I caught movement in the shadows. I flung another light ball that direction but the flickering light just made things weirder.

"You will come out," Addy shouted, huffing slightly. Off topic, but I still hadn't figured that one out yet. She said she didn't get tired, but she still huffed like she was out of breath sometimes. Maybe it was just a habit left over from when she had a body.

"No, I can't!" said a strange voice tinged with a note of panic.

"Yes you can, sweetie," Cheri Lynn's honey-smooth voice was soothing. "It's okay. Nobody's gonna hurt you. I promise."

"I'm gonna hurt him," Belle barked, "If he don't get his see-through caboose out there right now. Lurkin' around like some pervert!"

"Hey! I'm not a pervert! You people show up in my shop uninvited, and I'm the one in the wrong?"

Hunter got the new bulb in and pulled the string. Light flooded the basement and we all turned to see what the commotion was. Belle and Addy each had ahold of one arm of a familiar figure, yanking him through the wall. Cheri Lynn was floating in front of him, uttering reassurances. When they pulled him into the light, I dropped the shot bulb Hunter had handed me.

"Well I'll be damned," Bobbie Sue said. "It's the fried baloney man."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I stepped forward to get a closer look as the four of them came out of the shadows and the glass from the bulb crunched under my foot. Without taking my eyes off the ghostly group, I snapped my fingers and the pieces pulled themselves back together, then popped back up to my hand.

"Hey," Rae said to the man trying to escape from Belle and Addy. Good luck with that—I had a body and they didn't, and I couldn't escape when they didn't want me to. "You're Mr. Braxton!"

"Can't get nothin' past her," Mr. Braxton deadpanned.

He rolled his eyes and Addy shook him like a rug. "You better stop sassin' and start talkin' there, baloney boy."

The guy was about fifty-ish with thinning hair—well, I guess it had thinned all it was going to—and was wearing a button-down and khakis.

He peered over the top of his readers at her. "And who died and made you queen?"

"I did!" she snapped.

Belle hmphed beside her. "And we trade days, so we got the rest of eternity covered."

Cheri Lynn floated away a little to give him some room. "Everybody just take a deep breath. I'm sure we can get this figured out."

Her companions all glared at her, and Max floated forward.

"So where you been for the last six months or so?" he asked. I ain't been on this side of the daisies but a coupla months, but I ain't seen you around. You ain't been to none of the meetin's."

"Wait," I said. "You guys have actual meetings?"

"Course we do," Addy said. "How else you reckon we're gonna keep things like this"—she motioned to the silvery form of Mr. Braxton—"under control?" She glowered at him. "There's rules most of the newly departed are usually courteous enough to follow."

Matt looked completely lost, so I stepped forward. "Matt, this is Erol Braxton, the former owner of this place."

"That's all fine and dandy," Erol said, "but who are you people? And what do you mean by former?"

Now I was losing patience with him. "If you'd zip it for two seconds, I was getting to it."

I made the introductions. "I bought your shop today and we were just exploring it."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Whadya mean you bought it? It isn't for sale."

There really wasn't any delicate way to put it. "It actually was. The taxes weren't paid and, well, I paid 'em, so now it's mine."

He started to bluster. "That's highway robbery! You stole it right out from underneath me!"

Max zoomed forward when he said that. "You watch your mouth. She's a good kid and she didn't steal nothin'. She bought it fair and square."

Hunter backed him up. "She did. She even went so far as insist we keep trying to find you because she felt bad buyin' it that way."

"She oughta feel bad," he said. "She stole my store!"

Bobbie Sue stepped forward, scowling. "Lemme ask ya this, then, Mr. Smarty Pants. How you reckon you're gonna flip sandwiches or whisk that fancy mustard sauce of yours since you ain't got no body anymore?"

Erol fired daggers at her with his eyes for a few seconds, then wilted and started to tear up.

Belle looked heavenward. "Lord help us, we got a leaker. Pull yourself together, for the love of Betsy. How long you been dead? And why did you come back here?"

He wiped a knuckle under his eye, clearing the shimmering tears. "What do you mean, why did I come back? I never left."

You could have heard a pin drop for the span of a couple of heartbeats.

"Come again?" Belle said. "Course ya did. Lorrie Critchfield saw ya packin' suitcases into your car, then we never heard from ya again. The house you was rentin' was cleaned out."

He heaved a sigh. "Yeah, that's what they made it look like, I'm sure."

Hunter stepped forward. "I'm the sheriff, and I would love to know exactly what—and who—you're talkin' about."

Erol snapped his attention to Hunter, then started to struggle in earnest even though Belle and Addy had pretty much turned him loose. Panic flashed in his eyes and Cheri Lynn stepped forward.

"It's okay," she said, snapping her fingers in front of her face and pointing to her own eyes. "Look at me. You're fine. You're safe. I know what you're thinkin' but he can't hurt you anymore and Hunter ain't got nothin' to do with him. He's one of the good guys."

Erol looked at her, chest heaving. "He can't hurt me?"

She shook her head. "Nope. He ain't never gonna hurt nobody ever again."

Matt pulled off his cap, rubbed the back of his neck, then shoved his hat back on. "Who ain't never gonna hurt him again?"

Anna Mae stepped forward, tears tracking down her cheeks. "Hank," she whispered. "He's talkin' about Hank, aren't you, Mr. Braxton?"

I felt so bad for her at that moment that I'da paid money to watch Hank get sucked to his black, miserable just desserts again.

Erol'd stopped struggling and looked through Cheri Lynn to Anna Mae. "You're his wife," he said, accusing.

"Yeah, she was," Bobbie Sue said, wrapping an arm around Anna Mae, "But he was just as evil to her as he was to everybody else."

Mr. Braxton held her gaze for a moment, then flicked it back toward Hunter. "You're that new guy. You came in for a sandwich a few times. Always wondered how you stomached what they did, because you have such a good aura and were always nice to me."

Hunter shook his head. "I had no idea what he was doin' ‘til after he was dead."

Erol snapped his gaze up. "He's dead?"

Cheri Lynn gave a definitive nod. "He is."

"Is he ... did he—" His eyes darted around the room, looking behind him as if the hounds of hell were gonna pop out of the walls at him.

I stepped toward him. "He's not here. He didn't come back. In fact, I saw what happened to him after he died. He ain't never coming back. Trust me; if you don't believe another word I say, believe that."

At first I hadn't told anybody what I'd seen happen; Hank had sure enough come back when he died, but he wasn't separated from his body for a full minute when inky black smoke curled up around him and pulled him straight under, kicking and screaming. Eventually though, when I realized everybody was afraid, waitin' for him to come back, I told the people who mattered.

Erol regained his composure, then nodded and said, "At least let's go back upstairs. It's dark down here, and I know the ladies gotta be chilly. Besides, it's a bit of a story."

There was that kind man I remembered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

We gathered in the kitchen and he went to pull open a cupboard before he realized what he was doing, then motioned toward the fridge. "There should be coffee in the freezer if anybody wants some, but obviously no milk. The cups are in the cabinet I just shoved my hand through." He shook his head, frustrated.

I waved him off. "We just had dinner, so we're good. Why don't you start from the beginning and tell us what happened?"

I noticed Anna Mae had tucked herself in the corner away from the rest of us. I caught Bobbie Sue's eye, then looked pointedly at Anna Mae. Bobbie turned around and took her by the hand, shaking her head when she started to resist.

This wasn't going to be easy on her. Even though we lived in a fishbowl and Hank had everybody from state cops to judges in his pocket, she still blamed herself for not coming forward and stopping him. Her brain knew that the only thing telling on him would have gotten her is dead, but her heart wouldn't let her forgive herself for not trying anyway.

And that much guilt came because she knew he robbed good people blind. If it ended up he flat-out killed somebody, I wasn't sure what it would do to her.

Erol moved over in front of the stove and adopted a pose that made him look as though he were leaning against it.

"If you try to use this burner, you have to light it with a match," he told me, stalling.

"I'm already aware, but thank you. Now, why were you leaving?"

Belle piped up. "We already told you why he left. Hank and his goons tortured him because he batted for the wrong team, according to them."

Addy rolled her eyes. "I swear to God, Belle, sometimes you've got the tact of an iron skillet to the forehead."

Erol waved for silence. "Though it wasn't exactly eloquent, she's right. They charged me an exorbitant amount of money every month and I know they made up the reasons. One month it would be a fire tax and the next month it would be a donation for the park, but it was never optional. They made that abundantly clear."

We already knew all that. Anna Mae had found a fortune—literally—stashed away in cash and savings accounts.

"Yeah," Bobbie Sue said. "He was doin' that to pretty much everybody. Well, not to us 'cause he knew Earl'd crack his gourd like a melon if he tried, but we paid twice in taxes, same as everybody else."

"Well," Erol continued, "things went along fine as long as I paid up for the first few months, then they saw Allen—my friend from Atlanta—leave my house. After that, they all but bled me dry."

He stopped and closed his eyes, and his eyeballs were twitching back and forth behind the lids as if he were watching a movie only he could see. "The same two men started coming in a couple times a week, tormenting me and tellin' me to leave town, and finally I just told 'em I wasn't paying them another dime, and that I wasn't leaving. Sometimes all it takes is standin' up to bullies."

He huffed a self-deprecating snort through his nose and looked down at his transparent body. "Obviously, it was the wrong move. I was packing to go to Atlanta for the weekend to visit my mother and some friends, and they followed me away from the house. Right outside of town, they pulled me over, then ..."

He paused for a moment and took a shuddering breath. "They pulled me out of my car. One of 'em had a bat and the other, the biggest one, he just used his fists. Next thing I knew, I was lying over the hill in an inch of muck and hearing my car drive off." He tilted his head, looking at something only he could see.

"The strangest thing is that I don't remember it hurting. The last thing I remember is watching a little lady bug climb up a blade of grass right in front of my eye. I couldn't move and the way it managed to stay attached while in climbed just fascinated me. I wondered if it was going to climb on my nose next."

His gaze cleared and he looked at Hunter. "And that's the last thing I remember. That little bug. Oh, and the birds whistling."

Hunter's face was scarlet with rage. "I need to know who these men were. Hank may have sent them to do it, or at least covered it up, but there isn't a statute of limitations on murder, and this is my town now. I won't let it stand, do you hear? I need names. Now!"

Erol held his hands out. "Calm down, Sheriff. This was months ago. They're not right here. Besides, there aren't any witnesses and I'm sure my body is gone, so aside from what I just said—which I'm pretty sure isn't admissible in court—you don't have a leg to stand on."

Anna Mae spoke from the back of the room. "Hunter, I can tell you right now who it was. Butch Davies and Ronnie Dean. Hank's main goons." She leveled her gaze on Erol. "I'm right, aren't I?"

He stuttered. "Well, yes, but like I said—"

"Yeah, yeah," Addy said. "We heard ya. But has it occurred to you yet that this ain't exactly an average town? How do you reckon they'd feel if the man they murdered and several of his new phantasmic friends showed up and haunted them day and night?"

He started shaking in terror. "I really don't think I can."

The little bell over the front door chimed and I looked around to see who it was. Anna Mae was gone.

***

WE RAN OUT THE FRONT door so fast it was almost a three-stooges moment when we hit the opening at the same time. By the time we spilled out onto the sidewalk, Anna Mae was already up the street and out of sight.

Fortunately, supper had settled so it wasn't so hard to run back to Bobbie Sues, but she was spinning out of the lot by the time we got there.

"Addy, maybe you and Belle should pop in on her and find out where she's goin'." I said, but I'd hardly closed my mouth when Cheri Lynn popped in beside them.

"Ronnie Dean's," she said. "He's closest. He lives—"

"I know where he lives," Bobbie Sue said. "Lordy, he'll kill her. We gotta get there."

We jumped in my truck since it would hold us all and were hot on her tail in less than a minute. Fortunately, Ronnie lived on a dirt road and Anna Mae drove a little sports car, so we made up some time because we didn’t have to be so careful about potholes. Still, when we pulled up in front of his house, Anna Mae was already in the front yard holding a Louisville Slugger and screamin' his name.

Matt about broke his neck trying to climb out of the middle seat of the truck as she pulled the bat back and swung at the headlight of Ronnie's pride-and-joy, souped-up GMC pickup. The sound of smashing glass echoed through the air, followed by Anna Mae screeching at the top of her lungs, "Hey, Ronnie—you dirty, murderin' son of a bitch! Get out here!"

Her face shone crimson in my headlights and her platinum bob swung wildly around her pixie face as the porch light came on. She drew the bat back over her head and shattered his windshield as Ronnie ran out on the porch bare-chested in his socks.

She turned to face him with a perfect batter's stance. "That's right, big boy," she snarled, winding up for the swing. "Bring it on out here and let's see how you do when you ain't the one holdin' the bat."

Ronnie, all six feet and two hundred pounds of him, charged her like a bull, but she feinted at the last second and brought the toe of her Jimmy Choos right up into his family jewels. He dropped to his knees like a sack of potatoes and she brought the bat down across his back.

When she drew back for another swing and Matt grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back, she started spitting and screaming, struggling to get loose.

"Shhh, now. You got him," he said. "He's going to jail. We're here."

Ronnie'd managed to make it to his knees and was braced on his palms throwing up in the grass. Hunter nudged him with his toe. "Get up. You're under arrest for the murder of Erol Braxton."

"Erol who?" he managed to grunt between heaves, which fired Anna Mae up all over again. She started kicking and arching backwards, trying to break Matt's hold on her. I prayed he didn't lose her because that girl had murder in her eyes.

Cheri Lynn was floating beside me, grinning.

"What's so funny?" I asked, thinking she'd lost her mind.

She shrugged. "Aside from the fact she just put an ass-whoopin’ on Ronnie Dean? I was just rememberin' back to when that temper was aimed at me the day after Hank died. Matt better hang on tight."

I smiled, too. Before she'd died, Cheri Lynn had a run-in with Anna Mae—a long story you can read about in another book—and Hunter and I had broken it up. I'd pulled Cheri Lynn off and Hunter had been in charge of Anna Mae. She got loose and took a swing at Cheri, who'd ducked, and I'd ended up with a shiner any prizefighter would have been proud of.

Anna Mae was calming down, though Matt didn't trust her enough to unlock his hands from around her waist. Hunter was cuffing Ronnie Dean, who was still green around the gills. Now the only problem was what to do with him because my truck was full.

Bobbie Sue motioned with her chin to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. "Toss him in the back," she told Hunter. "That's where most folks haul their pigs."

He pushed Ronnie onto the tailgate then jumped into the bed and pulled out another set of zip cuffs from his jacket pocket. I idly wondered how many sets he carried as he tied Ronnie to my gooseneck ball.

Once Erol was sure Ronnie wasn't getting loose, he floated over to him. "Count yourself lucky. At least you're leavin' with a body." He glanced toward the house. "And how dare you put my thousand-dollar patio set on your redneck, white-trash porch?"

Hunter glanced toward the porch then at Erol after he swung the tailgate shut. "Are you serious? That's your stuff?"

Our newest ghostly addition nodded and sniffed. "Sure it is. You don't think he has that kind of taste in decor do you?"

I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing. One thing about Keyhole Lake: it was never boring.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

In the months since Hank had left the world a better place, Hunter had made some serious staff changes. He'd ferreted out those associated with Hank, those who wanted to grow up to be like Hank, and those who benefited from Hank in any way whatsoever. What that basically meant is that there were only two cops—Smitty and his partner—left who were there under Hank's reign, and those two were Peggy-Sue approved.

Once Hunter had taken over and she'd no longer had to fear for her family's livelihoods, she pulled him to the side for a serious heart-to-heart and shared a list of names, dates, times, amounts, and witnesses, if any, that took up the better part of two legal note pads. She'd started it in case she ever needed leverage to protect herself or her family, but was delighted that it was one of the best tools in his bag when he sat down with the council and cleaned house.

Unfortunately for some of the council members, Peggy Sue was nothing if not thorough and they ended up ousted, too.

The point of all this is when Hunter called and gave the order for a team to go arrest Butch Davies, two ended up going instead of one because they came to a rock-paper-scissors draw, and neither one of them would step down and give the pleasure to the other.

That arrest was a long time coming. Butch and Ronnie had been Hank's muscle, but nobody could actually prove anything that would get them more than thirty days in jail, until now.

Hunter was worried that without a body or anybody to report Erol missing, he wouldn't be able to make anything stick, because all they had to do was back each other up. Our living-impaired community banded together and decided to stack the deck a little in honor of their newest member.

Ronnie had been belligerent and mean—surprise, surprise—until Erol himself had swooped right into his face and told him to sit down and shut up. Ronnie wasn't exactly part of the in-crowd and didn't know about the ghosts, so when five of them, including the one he murdered, decided to keep him company on the way back to town, then in his cell, suffice it to say he was ready to confess by daybreak.

Butch got the same treatment, though he held out a little longer.

The straw that broke the camel's back was Addy's decision to sing to him all night. Loud sailor songs about dismemberment and death and boogy monsters. Remember those breeding cats I mentioned earlier? They're in perfect harmony compared to Addy. She broke him in less than thirty minutes. Of course, she had to call the rest of her buddies back to let them know, because none of them had been any more able to wait her out than Butch had.

So, the next morning, we had two signed confessions and Erol had instructed us to remove his beloved patio set—and as it turned out, his dining set, his big-screen, and his Star Wars collection—from Ronnie's house. His silk sheets were there too, but we all agreed those could stay.

We decided to figure out where to put most of his belongings later, but he wanted the big-screen in the shop so he could watch the cooking channels and some of the reality shows. I was willing to live with that.

The next morning, I had to be to Bobbie Sue's by nine for the home visit, and I had to drop of a few boxes of fresh goodies to Rae at Brew. Things hadn't really slowed down at the shop, but the pace had become a little more consistent now that the tourists were gone and summer was over. We'd enjoy having the town mostly to ourselves until spring, and after the summer we'd had, we were more than ready for it.

It was a quarter of nine when I pulled into Bobbie Sue and Earl's and I admired her yard and house. It wasn't at all what most folks would expect. Earl had built her a three-thousand-square-foot log cabin, complete with a toy garage that wasn't much smaller than the house. The outside was beautiful: a big, wraparound porch with rocking chairs and big baskets of flowers dotting it all the way around.

Janette's car wasn't there yet, which was exactly how I'd planned it. Unless I missed my guess, Bobbie Sue was a hot mess over the whole thing. Rae'd made her a coffee blended with her relax herbs, and the way we figured it, that should put her about on par with an average person.

I pecked on the front door then went on in. Sure enough, she was a maniac. She was worried the house wasn't clean enough when I would have eaten spaghetti off her floors without batting an eye. She'd dressed up for it, wearing her best jeans and a yellow blouse that I always told her she should wear more often because it looked so good on her.

Poor Justin was dressed in his new school clothes—he'd gotten to stay home for the day—and Bobbie Sue mom-spitted his face three times in the span of five minutes.

I handed her the coffee. "Drink this. Now," I told her, leading her to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Noe. I'm just a little nervous." I looked around and I swear I could see myself in the toaster from clear across the room.

"Well knock it off before you make yourself sick," I said. "And the next time you're a little nervous, feel free to come to the farm. I've never been able to get my toaster to shine like that."

"Vinegar," she said with a sharp nod.

Why was I not surprised? Vinegar was the answer to everything, but I could hardly call into question the advice of a woman whose toaster served double-time as a mirror.

Janette showed up right on time and wasn't there more than twenty minutes. It would have only been five if Bobbie Sue wouldn't have forced a cup of coffee and some of my fresh pastries on her. The bottom line was that she wanted to see Justin for herself and make sure he was okay with the adoption. Once she saw he was happy and well taken care of, she was ready to rubber-stamp it.

When she left, I gave them all three a hug, and Justin looked a little sad.

"Why the clouds, brat? This is a sunshine-and-rainbows morning."

"Yeah," he said, toeing a rock with his new sneaker. "I'm just gonna miss stayin’ with you and Shelby and the farm, is all."

Bobbie Sue scrunched her forehead. "Why on earth are you going to miss them? Nothing's really changing other than the fact that you now have a permanent home and they can't intervene and bounce you around anymore."

He looked up at her, hopeful. "Really? I'll still be able to stay at the farm, or at least visit?"

"Course you will, sweetie," she said. "What, did you think now that you're legally one of us that things would change? That's silly. All we did today was put on paper what's already been the case since we first met. Ain't that right, Noe?"

"Absolutely," I said. "Remember we talked about that the other night? I mean, you need to listen to what Bobbie Sue and Earl say, and if you're grounded, don't run to me. This is your home now, and you're always welcome at the farm, too. Just remember this isn't a divorce situation where we have good versus evil trying to outspend and outmaneuver each other."

"Oh, he said, "then I'm pleased as punch! I went from havin' no house to havin' two, and a coupla jobs to boot!"

I laughed; when I'd busted him stealing wallets to survive, he'd told Raeann and me he would have found a job, but nobody would hire him. The little man was comin' up in the world and I was glad to help him do it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I'd had a rough few days and decided to stop at Brew and grab another Lively Latte on my way home. I'd tried to talk Rae into taking the day off, but she wouldn't have it. She said hiding would make her look guilty and Brew was her place, so she'd go there if she wanted. If it ran off customers, then so be it.

We should have known that wouldn't be the case; the place was packed with folks trying to get a firsthand telling of the story. Angel told me Raeann was in the office doing paperwork—probably code for taking a break from all the questions—and a line had formed. I jumped behind the counter and started making coffees as she called out the orders.

When I was cleaning the coffee area after we cleared the line, I was lost in thought about the whole Olivia thing. It wasn't until she nudged me that I realized Angel was standing beside me, just waiting to grab my attention.

"Hey Ang, what's up?" She was working her lip between her teeth.

"I don't know if this is relevant or not, but I saw one of those women that don't like y'all—the friends of the one they're sayin' Raeann kilt—comin' toward the store when I was leavin'." Her eyes welled up. "Oh, if I'da just waited for Raeann, none of this woulda happened."

I scowled at her. "Don't you dare go feelin' bad. Your mama was hurt, and nobody expected anything less than for you to go to her. We'll figure this mess out."

She snuffled. "Well, that's what I was sayin'. I didn't give it much thought until this mornin' because I was in such a rush, and there were other people on the sidewalk. But it was definitely one of their crowd." She shuddered. "They're horrible people, you know that, right?"

I gave her a wry look. "I'm aware. I've known them since school. But we already know Olivia was here."

Angel shook her head. "Not her. I didn't even see her. And not the dead girl, either. One of the blonde ones with big boobs. They never bothered to introduce themselves, so I don't know one from the other."

That didn't narrow it down much because that described both Angelica and Bunny. "Could you tell which one if we showed you a picture?"

She shook her head. "She was wearing a blue crocheted beret and had on big sunglasses and a matching scarf. No way could I pick one from the other, plus it was only a quick glance. I was thinkin' about Mama."

She had me at blue crocheted beret, since Katie'd been holding one in her hands.

"Angel, you have no idea how helpful that is."

She pressed her lips together. "I don't know how, since I don't know which one it was, and I can't prove she even came in the store, but I figured you may be able to do something about it."

"Did you tell the sheriff this?" I asked.

She shook her head, and adjusted her apron. "Not yet. I have to go in after work and talk to him since I wasn't around yesterday. I'll tell him then. He stopped earlier to grab a coffee, but we were slammed. Rae talked to him and signed something."

"Good deal. So how's your mama?" We leaned against the counter and chatted about her mom for a minute, then I poked my head into Rae's office.

She was chewing on a pen cap and studying her laptop. A yellow legal pad lay to her left, and she was taking notes as she scrolled through whatever she was looking at.

"Hey! What's up?" I said.

She startled when I pecked on the frame, but smiled.

"Believe it or not, I'm fryin' my brain over new coffee mugs, trying to decide if I'm buyin' the expensive ones I like or the serviceable ones I can afford."

"Ha! Hashtag coffeedilemma. Don't people steal the mugs you have now?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm buying new ones."

I raised my brows. "Wouldn't it just be easier, and probably cheaper, to switch solely to disposable ones?"

"Yeah, but the real ones give the place a touch of home. Class it up a little."

"I reckon. So do you think I'm wrong about the whole Olivia thing?"

She switched the pen cap to the other side of her mouth. "I don't know, sweetie. Your gut was tellin' you last night she didn't do it, but we're talkin' about Olivia here. I mean, I know you sound tough, but when it comes down to brass tacks, would you protect her just because you don't wanna believe she's that dirty? Especially since she didn't hurt you?"

I pulled in a deep breath and let it out. "I don't know. I just ... she's stupid and foul and mean, but would she really try to kill me?" In the light of day, that sounded naive even to my ears.

She puckered her mouth and pushed her lips to the side. "You were there and it's your gut. Just make sure you're listenin' to it and not your heart."

I scowled at her. "I have no heart when it comes to her. She's a heifer."

She threw the pen cap at me. "You have a heart when it comes to everybody, babydoll, just like me. You're just better at playin' tough than I am."

I snorted. "Whatever."

Moving around to look at the cups over her shoulder, I let out a low whistle, then flicked my wrist to pull a chair forward from the far corner so I could plop down beside her. "Dang, Rae, those are cute, but you're right. They're pricey. All for somebody to steal them?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, if I think about how many cups of coffee I have to sell to pay for one before somebody walks off with it, it's not that bad."

After clicking through a couple more pages, she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"What am I gonna do, Noe? Hunter said this morning my preliminary hearing was gonna be next week and that the judge may revoke bond. They're keepin' a close eye on us down here since the whole Hank thing. He said he's talked to everybody around, and no one saw anybody enter or leave. Right now, I'm the only suspect, and they found me literally over the body holdin' the murder weapon."

"So it was the scarf?"

She nodded. "Yup. The fibers were in her skin. They said from the looks of it, somebody got her from behind and pulled it tight."

I shuddered. There was no love lost between us, but I wouldn't have wished that on her. I wondered for the hundredth time since my call last night if Olivia really had tried to kill me to get revenge.

I squeezed her shoulder. "We’ll figure it out, sweetie. Don't borrow trouble."

She hmphed. "I don't need to borrow any. Seems I got plenty already."

"Well, we still got a few days. Hunter's good. And I've got your back, too." I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.

Angel cleared her throat, then leaned on the doorframe. "Y'all, the weirdest thing just happened."

She glanced back out front, then around the store, her eyebrows drawn in. "Some chick just came in and ordered a latte, and while I was making it, she asked about you two. Like, she knew you owned the place, Rae. And she seemed to be makin' polite conversation, but she was diggin' for information."

"She probably just heard about the murder and was bein' nosy," I said.

She pinched her lips and shook her head. "No. No, it wasn't like that. She actually asked more about you than she did Rae. Said she'd heard you'd almost been in an accident last night—which, by the way," she said, glaring at me, "I knew nothing about until she said it. And she asked about Olivia's character."

"Her character?" Rae said, scrunching her forehead.

"Yeah. Somethin' about her bein' on the Chamber of Commerce." She rolled her eyes. "Cause, you know, bein' part of this town’s politics means you’re an upstandin' member of the community."

"So what did you tell her?" I asked.

"I told her if she wanted to know anymore, both y'all were in the back and I'd introduce you. When I turned around to give her her change, she was gone."

"She just left?" Rae asked.

"No. I mean gone. Like, poof. The door didn't open, but she was just ... gone."

That sounded maddeningly familiar. I narrowed my eyes. "Redhead? Tall and slender? Long hair?"

"That's her," Angel said, nodding. "You know her?"

I met Rae's eyes. "Nope, but I sure would like to meet her."

CHAPTER THIRTY

I made myself a fresh cup of coffee, then decided at the last minute to make Matt one, too. He was off that morning and was spending it working on his bike.

As I rumbled up the drive, I smiled, in awe as always of the beauty of the bright white fences, the horses grazing in the pasture, and the huge old oaks draped with Spanish moss that formed a tunnel over parts of the driveway.

I'd been through my share of rough patches—Mama dying, Daddy leaving us shortly after, teenage breakups, and losing first Uncle Calvin, then Addy. But through it all, this place had been there, a comfort zone where I could feel the pain without having to hide it.

All I had to do was look out over those pastures or walk through the barn and pet a couple muzzles to feel my soul settle into its rightful place.

I pulled in front of the barn and saw Matt over in the garage, squatting down beside the bike with a wrench in his hand. He waved and I jumped out of the truck, grabbing our coffees before pushing the door shut with my elbow.

"Sure hope that's for me," he said when I was within talking distance.

"Nope." I said. "Got myself two."

"Gimme my durn coffee, woman."

I laughed and handed it to him.

"Count yourself lucky,” he said. “Hunter's comin' over this evenin' and I'd hate to have to tell him you were mean to me."

Max had trotted across the yard to meet me, looking for treats. "Where are the pastries? What else did you bring?" he asked, sticking his nose in the air toward my purse and waggling his ears like antennae.

"I took 'em to Brew." I said, swatting his nose away from my pocketbook. "And all I brought home was coffee.”

He laid his ears out flat. "I suppose it would be too much to ask for a little consideration for the cursed members of this family."

"Yeah, you’re so abused. Poor Max." I motioned to the bike. Max made his way to a sunny spot several feet behind Matt, then circled and laid down close enough to Wiz, the dog he complained about so often, that I narrowed my eyes. He saw me and curled up his lip, then scooted a couple more feet away from the friendly German Shepherd.

"Whatcha workin' on?" I asked.

"Rebuildin' the clutch. We're gettin' it close to a test ride," he said, pride in his voice. They'd been talking about paint schemes lately, and I had to admit I was almost as excited as they were.

I'd gotten my motorcycle license a few weeks before but was still relegated to a dirt bike Hunter had bought to teach me to ride on. I was hoping that when Matt got this one finished, I wouldn't take too much flak when I announced I was buying my own. It was nice that Hunter cared, but the testosterone-induced overprotection was starting to wear me thin.

"Will you help me bring that door and table over here? I wanna start sanding it down, but now that we have a couple horses in the barn during the day, I don't want them breathing that."

"Sure," he said, pushing to his feet and wiping his greasy hands on a rag.

We moved both pieces over and worked in silence for a while, he on the bike and me on the table. The comforting rhythm of sanding and the peace of the late morning were wearing the ragged edges of my nerves smooth. It was nice having somebody at the farm who was both good company and appreciated the value of silence.

For a long time, the only sounds were the scratching of sandpaper and the clink of metal against metal, with the everyday sounds of the farm in the background—birds, an occasional horse squeal or chicken ruckus.

"So what's the deal with that girl last night? You know as well as I do she meant to run you over."

I ran my finger along one of the deeper scars in the wood then went to work on it. "Yeah, I know it looks that way, but it doesn't sit right. I'm just not sure why she did it. She's a lot of things, but she's not a murderer."

He let that float for a few minutes while he pulled the new clutch plates from the oil and started to feed them onto the spindle. "So what is she, then? What do you think happened?"

Max snorted from his sunspot. "Sounds to me like it was exactly what it looked like."

"I don't know. Things have been jacked up all week. The kid at the store, Roberta, the preacher, the mailman deckin' the mayor. Hunter was even actin' funny for a minute. It seems too—"

"Coincidental?" Matt said.

"Yeah. I don't put much stock in coincidence, especially when there are so many."

Max raised his head. "You know, this vaguely reminds me of a trick Shayna used to employ to manipulate people or seduce men—not that she needed it, but sometimes a little extra nudge lined her pockets." Shayna was the Irish witch who’d cursed him.

"And?" I prodded when he paused for several seconds.

"Don't rush me," he groused. "I'm getting there. She used to curse stones and give them to her targets in the guise of protection, or virility, or whatever else she knew would work."

He gave a sappy donkey grin. "She was magnificent."

Matt raised a brow. "She sounds like it. She was powerful enough to grant you immortality in the body of an ass."

Max scowled, his furry eyebrows hooding his eyes.

That tickled something in the back of my mind, but my phone rang before I could connect any dots. I dusted my hands off and pulled it from my pocket.

It was Hunter. "Hey, handsome!"

Max made hairball-hacking noises and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Hey, Noelle. I figured I'd better be the one to call and tell you—I arrested Olivia."

The sentence hung between us while I digested what he said.

"What do you mean you arrested Olivia? Why? I told you I wasn't pressing charges."

"And I thought about it over coffee and made the decision to pursue charges on behalf of the county. This place has been lax far too long. There's a system in place for a reason and I'm tired of trying to play along with everyone’s version of how things are supposed to work. Rules are rules, and she broke one of the bigger ones—she tried to kill you. She had motive and she's shown malice."

"But—"

"But nothing, Noelle." His formal tone was making me suspicious. "I hope this doesn't cause a problem between us, but things can't just keep bein' overlooked." He lowered his voice. "And I talked to the judge who's going to be presiding over Raeann's hearing while he was here setting Olivia's bond and taking care of some other business. He's not pleased that I released her on her own recognizance, but understands. That bein' said, if she's held over for trial next week, he's revoking that. I'm sorry."

He clicked off and I slid my phone back in my pocket, poleaxed both by the news and the way he delivered it.

I motioned toward an overturned five-gallon bucket and it swept toward me, getting there just in time to catch me before I plunked to the ground.

Matt looked up from what he was doing and frowned. "What's up?"

After I told him what Hunter said, he frowned. "You know, I'm startin' to think there's something to all this hocus-pocus stuff you're considerin'."

"Not to be ineloquent," Max said, "but to quote modern society, duh. The problem is that magic used to be out in the open. Everybody knew it existed and when an apple went rotten, it was removed from the barrel. Then it fell out of religious fashion and a bunch of lunatics decided to start burning innocents at the stake. And I do mean innocents. No self-respecting witch is going to let somebody set her on fire."

He snorted, and the long hairs in his eyebrows waved. "Now magic is secret, and it's easy for the bad ones to get worse."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "I figured you'd hate magic. You're"—he motioned up and down Max's body—"like that because of magic."

Max looked at him like he was being ridiculous. "Of course I don't hate magic. Magic is all around. I suppose Shayna was a bit ... extreme, but I was also arrogant and foolish enough to cross her, so really, who's to blame?"

"That's generous of you," Matt said.

Max shrugged. "Being bitter won't solve anything."

While they debated the unfortunate consequences of superstition and ignorance, I pulled my phone out to call Rae. Before I even swiped it open, it rang and Coralee's name popped up.

"Hey Coralee." I could hear excited chatter in the background.

"Hey, Noe," she said, then her voice became muffled as she barked out for somebody to zip it. "Sorry, sug. I just heard Olivia Anderson was arrested for tryin' to send you to the great hereafter with that monstrous pink boat of hers. That's so bizarre I had to fact-check."

Translation: she wanted more info.

"Lordy, Coralee. I feel like I should say somethin' like no comment or something. What I can tell you is that she did have an accident last night, and it was near me, and she has been arrested. Though as bad as I hate to say it, I personally don't believe that was her intent."

"Then what was her intent?" Coralee asked. "Noelle, you all right? You didn't take any of the brownies out of the back of the fridge when you were here yesterday did ya?"

I huffed out a breath. "No, Coralee, I didn't nip on your special brownies. I'm just sayin' I don't know what happened, but let's me and you be honest here. She's a skank, but she's not a murderer. That's my official line."

“I reckon. I’ll try to keep it from spinnin’ too far before we get more facts, but you know how news travels.”

“Yeah, thanks. You’ll know more when I do.” I shook my head and hung up.

The guys had finished their debate and were staring at me, waiting to hear what came next.

My mind churned as I paced back and forth though the dust motes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

After a few minutes, I had a plan outlined. It was shaky at best, but it was all I could come up with on the fly. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up Skeeter's Automotive and Appliance Repair as I headed toward the house. Skeet was an old friend of mine and I knew I could trust him. He knew all about me and my family.

"Hey, Noe! What's doin'?" he said in his familiar twang.

"Hey Skeet. Things are a hot mess. I need your help. It may seem a little shady, but hear me out." He had a heart of gold, but was one of the good guys. Fibbin' wasn't something he was good at, and normally I would never ask it of him, but I was grasping at straws.

"Okayyy," he drawled. "Let's hear it." Lord love a duck, I was grateful to have him. Now just if my luck held for the next part.

"Olivia tried to plow me over last night and had to have her car towed. Please tell me you're the one she called."

"I sure am. And she seemed a little weird, too. She was actually nice to me." I huffed. What in the name of little green apples was I about to do? I had the chance to send the evil bat up the river and make the town a more pleasant place, but I couldn't do it. And on top of it, I was gonna ask one of my closest friends to lie to the man I was dating, who was—oh yeah—also the sheriff.

"Here's the thing, Skeet. I think she was cursed somehow. You and I both know she's a miserable mutt, but she ain't a murderer. My problem is nobody else is convinced. And while I'm thinkin' about it, I think Hunter's been hexed somehow. This is the second time this week he's gone all squirrelly on me."

He was quiet for a few seconds, chewin' on it all. I held the phone between my shoulder and face while I pulled the envelope I needed off the top of the refrigerator. "They ain't the only two you're worried about are they?" He said. "All that stuff with Roberta, and the revver, and Gene? Though Gene's iffy. The mayor's had it comin' for a while on that one."

Most people saw the lanky, home-grown country boy who was covered in grease more often than not and took him at face value, but Skeet was sharp as a tack. It was a rare thing to get one over on him, but I was surprised he'd put all that together.

"You're exactly right. But for now, until I can figure it out, I need you to stall. Check her brakes extra good. You know, maybe there was somethin' cut or something that would have made her lose control of it," I hinted.

"I'm pickin' up what you're layin' down, Noe, but are you sure?"

I switched my phone to the other ear as I dug my truck keys out of my purse. "I sure hope so, Skeet."

He sighed and I could practically see him shifting his weight back and forth, taking off his grimy Jeff Gordon work hat, rubbing the back of his neck, and putting it back on. "All right," he said at last. "I'm in. I’ll stall first though, to give you time to make sure it’s the right thing to do. Keep me posted."

"Thank you Skeet! You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

"Sure I do, else I wouldn't do it. Pay me back in muffins and those blueberry turnovers."

I laughed. "Count on it."

My next call was to Camille. I ran things past her, and even floated Max's theory that there was a witch in town compelling people. The redhead drifted through my mind. Nobody just disappears into thin air.

We tossed ideas back and forth but neither of us could come up with an answer. None of the victims or crimes had anything in common other than one thing: the person was temporarily uninhibited and free to do that one thing that only social or peer pressure kept them from doing.

Thinking about that made me wonder. Olivia's dislike of me was so deep that she would kill me. That made me rethink what I was about to do, but I mashed down the accelerator before I could change my mind.

I pulled up in front of the courthouse and found a spot, then grabbed the envelope off the seat. I was glad Addy was otherwise occupied because she'd have killed me if she knew what I was about to do. For that matter, I was questioning my own sanity at that point.

But Olivia had nobody. She wasn't married, her best friend was dead, and her other two friends were loser hags who'd followed the "ring by spring" philosophy their senior years in high school.

Though I had no doubt they regretted the fat, bald dudes the quarterback and pitcher turned into, their lifestyle choices didn't put them in a position to help their friend. And apparently she and her beau, Bo, were on the outs. Her mama—who was actually a very nice woman—was old and living on a fixed income.

The clerk I needed to see was a girl I'd gone to school with and I racked my brain to remember her name. I gave up and counted myself lucky I could remember my own at that point.

"Hey, Noelle. What can I do for you today?"

"Hey ..." I cast a quick glance at her nametag. "Connie. I'm here to post bail for Olivia Anderson." I pulled the document from the envelope and handed it to her.

She looked at what I'd handed her, then back up at me. "Come again? I don't think I understood."

"No, you heard me right. And no, I'm not drunk. Is that enough to cover her bail?" I motioned with my chin to the paper she was holding.

She raised her brows when she read it. "Yeah, I'd say the full deed to prime real estate a block from the courthouse will cover her bond."

Yes. I had potentially lost my mind. But she was in jail for something she didn't mean to do, and for some twisted reason, I felt responsible.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Fifteen minutes later, the paperwork was done and Olivia exited the double doors that led to the jail. She froze when she saw me. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

Connie raised her brows. "She just bailed your fanny out, that's what. I see you're every bit as hateful as you were in high school." She glanced at me. "You sure you wanna do this? I haven't filed it officially yet."

I nodded, exhausted. "Do I want to? No. But I'm going to. Thank you, Connie."

She shrugged a shoulder. "You're a better woman than I am, that's for sure. Or a dumber one, but that don’t hold with what I know about ya. Good luck." She turned to Olivia. "If you skip and make her lose her business, we'll find you and make you wish you were dead."

With that, she slid the glass window closed and walked away.

I glanced at Olivia. "Well, it's nice to see you're as well-loved now as always."

She stared at me, suspicious. "Why'd you bail me out?"

I took a deep breath and counted to five as I released it. "Because I don't believe you did it. I don't know what happened, but I don't think you tried to kill me."

Stepping closer, she sniffed the air. "You been into the hooch?"

"God, no. If I'd been in the hooch, I'd be beatin' on you right now rather than waitin' for you to move your tail so we can get out of here."

That lit a fire under her. "I don't have a car."

"So call Uber." When I said that, I pulled my hair back from my face. Jerry Jenkins was the only Uber driver in town and was probably working at the pizza parlor right then.

Resigned, I motioned toward the front doors. "Follow me. I'll give you a ride to wherever you need to go."

As far as tense silences go, the one in my truck as we rolled toward her mom's house was one for the record books. A mile or so before we were there, she looked over at me. "I didn't try to kill you, you know. I can't stand you, but I wouldn't kill you."

I cut her a look out of the corner of my eye. "I know it."

"Did you really put your business up for me? I heard you got the place beside the Clip N Curl."

"I did."

"I wouldn't have done that for you."

I was so regretting not having made her wait for Jerry Jenkins.

"I'm aware. Believe me," I said as we pulled up to the curb. "Get out. And don't skip town or I'll hunt you down and do way worse than beat your ass."

She nodded once. "Fine.” She wrinkled her nose. “You're truck smells like a barn."

"You're welcome." I said as she swung the door shut. Ingrate.

I didn't even make it all the way back to town before Hunter called. I pulled off and answered.

"Did you seriously put up your building for Olivia Anderson's bail?" he bellowed as soon as I said hello.

"Yes."

"May I ask why? I put her in jail for trying to kill you, and you put up your business to get her out. That doesn't seem counterintuitive to you?"

My temper flared. Even though I suspected he was cursed that morning, I was about done with the whole overbearing-jerk thing. "Look, I told you she didn't try to kill me. I also told you I didn't want to press charges. What was I supposed to do? Leave an innocent person in jail, even if I can't stand her?"

"What you were supposed to do—"

I cut him off. "I think this conversation is probably over unless you want to tell me you figured out which one of the women it was that Angel saw coming toward Brew4U when she was leaving."

"I'd tell you if I could, but they're both denying being there."

"Of course they are. I'll talk to you later."

Rather than say something I'd regret later, I waited for him to say goodbye, then ended the call.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I made my way back into town, figuring I'd stop at Bobbie Sue's and grab a sandwich while I waited for Rae to finish up. It was Angel's day to close and we were going to get a pedicure. Rather than pull into Bobbies though, I kept driving until I pulled in front of the Cat.

A beer was sounding a whole lot better at that point than barbecue. On a whim, I called Camille and invited her to join me.

Monty already had my Big Wave in front of my customary bar stool by the time I slid onto it. I was grateful to see I was the only person in the bar. I wasn't in the mood to deal with loud jukeboxes or rabble-rousers.

"You look rough, kid. Bad day?"

"Bad week," I said, focusing on centering my beer on the coaster. "The good thing is that if I make it through, I should be good on crappy days for like ten years."

"Yeah, I heard about Rae, then I heard Olivia tried to plow you over with that boat of hers." He twisted his head down so he caught my attention, and I brought my eyes from the bar to meet his. "I also heard that you bailed her out, though the details were a little shaky on that because there was something about you putting up your business."

I pulled in a deep breath and puffed it out through my cheeks. "You've got better connections than Coralee does!"

He grinned and winked. "Don't let her hear you say that or she'll be openin' up her own bar and runnin' me out of business. But you're right. Bartenders and hairdressers know all."

My phone buzzed on the bar and I flipped it over to see who it was. It was Hunter. I flipped it back over.

"I did bail her out, Monty." I took a long drink of beer. "It was the right thing to do. She didn't try to kill me."

"Still—"

"Still, nothin'." I shook my head. "There's something goin' on around here, but damned if I can figure out what it is. I have an idea, and I have half a dozen cases to support my idea, but I can't manage to tie 'em together in any way that makes sense."

"Yeah, I've been payin' attention, too," he said. "Somethin' stinks. People do weird things all the time, but it's usually random, and there's some reason. Wife left 'em, they got into a bad batch of shine—somethin'. But at least the crazy is usually somewhat in character, and not clustered and random like it has been."

Monty looked up when the door swung open and I cast an apathetic glance toward it out of habit. Then I swiveled around and jumped off my stool.

The redhead held out her hand. "Hold fire," she said. "We need to talk. About a few things."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You've been following me."

She dipped her head. "I have been. I had to make sure you were one of the good guys before I could approach you. May I?" she motioned to the stool beside me.

I slid back onto mine and gestured to the other. "Please do. Enlighten me."

She slid onto the stool and asked Monty for a glass of white wine, then hung her oversized purse on the hook under the bar. While he poured her wine, I examined her.

"You look so familiar. I know I know you from somewhere."

I was usually good at remembering faces, and it was irritating me to no end that I couldn't place her.

"Well, to be fair, you've only seen me once, other than the times you've busted me watching you here, of course. And that time, I was wearing a ball cap and aviators."

I looked closer, then the pieces clicked together in my head. "Moira, right?"

She nodded. "Pleased to meet you, again."

My mind flashed back to the day we'd bought the door and table. She'd been the TJ's friend who pulled up in the hybrid.

"Well now that I know who's been stalking me, I'd like to know why."

Monty set her wine on a coaster in front of her and she took a sip.

"It's complicated."

"Break it down for me."

She grimaced. "I've been trying to figure out whether you're the one who's been causing all these problems, but people shut down anytime I ask about you. Girl, is everybody in this town so ... abrupt?"

"I wouldn't say that. I'd say we have a low tolerance for subterfuge and nosiness from outsiders. Other than that, we're a basket of peaches for the most part. Now, you were saying?"

"I came down with TJ when her aunt passed to help her move. We've been friends for a couple years and she didn't have anybody else she could ask. I'd never met the lady and had never been to Eagle Gap in my life, but as soon as I walked into that house, I felt some serious juju." She shivered.

"What kind of juju?" I asked, but before she responded, Camille pushed through the door. Remember part of Camille's mojo is mind magic, so imagine her surprise when she picked up not one, but two witches sitting in the bar. And any doubt in my mind that Moira was a witch had gone out the window the minute she walked through the door.

My little telekinetic gift, which is turning out to be not so little, as evidenced in the whole Max ordeal, sends warning bells out as soon as I'm within fifteen feet or so of another witch. So yeah, Moira the Mysterious was Moira the Magical. Now just to figure out what that had to do with me.

After an initial hitch in her step, Camille covered the space between the door and bar and held out her hand. She wasn't as reserved as I was about trolling other people, especially when they were a potential threat. And with the situation as it was, Moira fit smack dab in the middle of that category.

They introduced themselves. "Camille, Moira here is the witch who's been following me and asking questions about us. She was about to tell me why."

Monty brought Camille's usual beer and as soon as he was out of hearing range, Moira continued.

"We'd just gotten started, Camille, so your timing is perfect. I met Noelle in Eagle Gap when I was helping a friend clear out her departed aunt's house."

"The one where we got the door and table," I said.

Camille nodded.

"Mind you, I don't know TJ that well. I mean, we're work friends and we've been out a few times together, but we're not close other than that. We chat at work and like each other's funny dog memes on Facebook."

My phone buzzed again and it was Hunter. Again, I flipped it over. If it was important, he'd text.

"Anyway," Moira continued over the buzzing, "I figured, why not? A two-week vacation and a chance to explore a stranger's stuff sounded like a blast to me. But the minute I pulled up to Nora's house, something felt off."

"Wait," Camille said. "Did you say Nora?"

"Yeah," Moira said. "Nora Shelton, why?"

Camille rolled her head back, then dropped it back forward again, pinching her lips into a flat line. "Noe, Nora Shelton is the witch who I told you figured out what was going on over there, but died before we got there."

"Oh," I said, frowning. "Another coincidence. We seem to be collecting a plethora of them and I don't like it."

"Me either," Camille said. "In my experience, coincidence equates to shenanigans that just haven't been pieced together yet, and that's rarely a good thing."

I couldn't have agreed more, and one look at Moira's face told me she felt the same way.

The problem we needed to figure out then, was how the pieces fit.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

"What exactly do you mean when you say it felt off, Moira?"

The other woman shook her head. "I can't put my finger on it. I'm an elemental witch, so I'm connected to my environment, but my gift is space manipulation. All I can tell you is there was some weird magical energy there, then when we were going through her things, TJ found a box of books filled with potions and spells."

She paused, giving us time to chew on that. "Anyway, she was on a deadline since we only had a week, so she wrote them off as cookbooks and stuffed them in a box. She's a good egg, but is ... worth monitoring."

I was catching on. "TJ was adopted," I explained to Camille. "She never met her aunt or even knew anything about her. She'd planned a visit, but Nora died before she could arrange it."

Realization set onto Camille's face. "You're telling me she's a witch?"

Moira nodded. "Or at least I know her aunt was. I don't have the same sensitivity you two seem to have, so I can't read her."

"And you never noticed anything odd about her?" I asked.

"No, other than small things. She has a knack for persuasion. She saved one girl's job when our jerk of a boss was going to fire her because he was in a snit one morning. She gets us into the best clubs when we go out even though there's a line around the block."

She paused to take a sip of her wine. "I don't even think she knows she's doing it. I just wrote it off as great people skills, but now I'm starting to wonder."

Camille messed with her napkin, folding it, then folding it again, with a thoughtful expression on her face. "We—the local chapter of the Magical Oversight Committee—were over there for almost three months because there were weird things happening in Eagle Gap. Petty thefts and oddball behavior mostly, but they escalated and shifted to the witch community, though nobody died. We suspected somebody was trying to steal their gifts."

"That makes no sense," Moira said. "It can't be done."

"I know," Camille said, "Yet that's the only thing we could figure was happening."

That made me curious. "Why did you think that?"

She shrugged. "It was like all the energy was pulled from them. They regained it with rest and food, but it was still odd, and potentially lethal."

Moira's brow was crinkled. "That's strange, because I found a recipe card with a suspicious spell underneath one of the benches in her greenhouse. As a matter of fact, I stuck it in my purse because I didn't want anybody else to get their hands on it."

She dug through her bag, then handed Camille a piece of smudged stationary. "It looks almost like a binding spell, but it's off by a couple of ingredients, and the incantation’s not quite right. I know because I've worked freelance with the Virginia branch of the council when they've needed a set of invisible eyes or a bodyguard."

"A set of invisible eyes?" I asked. "What does that even mean?"

She smiled. "I told you my gift was space manipulation. I can manipulate the space in my bubble, so to speak, to refract and reflect light. As long as I stand still, it makes me all but invisible unless somebody looks closely."

My jaw about hit the ground. "I didn't even know that was a thing."

She tipped up one corner of her mouth. "Not many people do. It made me really good at hide-and-seek when I was a kid."

"We can compare childhood memories when people aren't being messed with," Camille said. "My daughter Emma texted me on the way over here. Apparently, she got an A on her trig test."

"That's great!" I said. Emma's teacher had been tutoring her because she struggled with math.

Camille arched a brow. "Yeah, except for she didn't even get to the last four problems. When she asked around, she wasn't the only one. Apparently everybody got an A."

"Oh," I said. "Well in the scheme of things, at least he didn't rob the church kitty, punch out his neighbor, or try to run somebody over with his car."

She snapped her gaze to me. "You think Olivia was hexed?"

I nodded. "Can you think of another logical reason the toughest teacher in the school would just hand out blanket As?"

I raised my glass to drain the last of my beer. When I set it down, Camille snatched my hand. "You have one, too."

"One what?" I asked, pulling my hand back. Her acrylics were sharp.

"A spoon ring," she said. "Emma's wearing one, too."

"Yeah," I said, rubbing the half-moons her nails had left in my hands. "We all got one when we got the—oh crap." A cold finger of realization slid down my spine.

"Oh crap, what?" Camille asked, examining the piece of paper.

"We found them in the table we got from Nora's."

"Gimme it," she said, holding out her hand.

I pulled it off my thumb and dropped it in her palm.

She closed her eyes, then popped them open. "It's made of silver, the most conducive metal there is. Nora said she'd give us a ring when she sorted it out. We thought she meant she'd call us back, but what if she said she'd give us the rings? The reception wasn’t good."

She squeezed her hand around the ring. "I've felt this energy before." She crinkled her brow. "It's the same as the low hum I felt when we examined Shelby.”

She dug her phone out of her purse, then motioned toward mine. "I'm texting Emma. You get ahold of Rae and Shelby. Tell 'em to get over here right now, and for the love of God, don't touch anybody on the way."

"Emma and Shelby are in school," I said.

Camille and Moira both cocked brows at me, and I got the gist. They were typical high schoolers; sometimes there were better things to do than go to school, and they knew how to get out if they wanted to. "Oh yeah," I said, tapping out a 911 text to Shelby, then Rae.

All three of them responded back within seconds. The high school was about fifteen minutes away, but Rae was only five minutes up the street. She rushed in and Monty set her beer in front of her, which was a good thing, because as soon as we explained our theory, she downed half of it in one swig.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

While we waited for the girls, we tossed ideas back and forth.

"Go over the exact message Nora left you," Rae said, holding her finger in the air to catch Morty's attention.

Camille shrugged. "Just something about cats and that she'd figured it out and would give us a ring when sorted it out."

"Okay then," Moira said. “We have nothing besides—"

"Cats," Camille said, cutting her off. "Kat. Suzette, the witch who found the items under her bed ... her grandmother's name is Katherine. She goes by Kat. But she's ancient. When we tested her, she only had residual traces of her magic left."

"Well then, I suggest we start with her," Moira said as the girls walked in. We made the introductions, then Camille demanded the rings and dropped them into one of those purple bags Crown Royal comes in, courtesy of Monty.

“Wait,” I said. “I want Addy in on this. She may be dead, but she still has connections.” After making sure the place was still empty, I called her, and when she popped in, we gave her a run-down.

"Now, let's figure out this mess," Camille said. "We have Kirsten, Roberta, Gene, Gabriel, Hunter, and Olivia. Oh, and Mr. Oxton, the trig teacher, who have all temporarily lost their inhibitions. Who came into contact with whom?"

"Hunter was definitely me, at least the first time." I said. "When he went off his rocker and refused to give Rae special treatment, I’d reached across the desk and held his hand just a few minutes earlier."

"I was why he arrested Olivia, then," Rae said, squinting. "He came in for coffee this morning. He brushed my hand, and thus the ring, when I handed him his coffee."

"Okay then," Camille said. "And we know his struggle is that he wants to make sure the department is run tip-top because he's trying to change the bad taste everybody has in their mouths about our cops post-Hank. Now, from the beginning. Kirsten?"

Shelby held her hand up. "She touched the ring when she gave me back my bracelet."

"Next. Roberta," Raeann said. "That one's on me, too. She commented on the ring at the salon when I was getting my nails done. It wasn't an hour later she was caught with the kitty."

She picked at the label on her bottle. "I'm responsible for the revver, too. He came to visit me while I was in jail."

"Don't go gettin' your tail in a twist," Camille said when Raeann's shoulders sagged. "It's not like you did it on purpose, and Noelle fixed it. Gene?" Camille looked around the table.

"That would be me again," Shelby said. "He brought his dog into the clinic to get his nails clipped. I have no doubt he probably touched the ring when I handed Frito back to him. It wasn't even an hour later that he decked the mayor."

"And Mr. Oxton is obviously me," Emma said. I'd touched him when I handed him my test because I dropped it and we reached down at the same time to get it. He graded the papers in class and handed them straight back to us, so there was only a few minutes."

"Then that only leaves Olivia," I said, "And that one's on me. I was being catty and patted her hand when I was in her office. It was only a half hour or so later that I about wore that pink atrocity as a backpack."

"Well then, it seems to be a no-harm-no-foul situation since Noelle got with Coralee and cleaned up the messes with Roberta and the preacher."

"What about the girl who tried to run Noelle over?" Moira asked, draining the last of her wine.

"Got it covered," I said. "The mechanic where her car was towed is a good friend of ours and I'm confident there was something wrong with her brakes or something that caused her to lose control."

Moira shook her head, smiling. "This town ain't like any other I've ever seen."

"And we like it that way," Addy said. "Now, something you said about Suzette sparked an idea. I'm gonna pop over and talk to her."

Rae sighed. “There’s only one problem: what about that judge comin’ down here for me and Olivia? He may buy it, but maybe not. Hunter’s gonna have to do some serious dancin’ around the truth to persuade him.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” I popped my head up. “Wait a minute—Katie’s murder. Is that one included in this mess?”

Rae and Camille thought for a minute. “I don’t see how.”

Then I remembered the fall. “I touched Angelica when she crashed into me.”

Rae grimaced. “And Katie was always kinda condescending to her. Even that night she was. That had to grind.”

I looked from one witch to another as the implication settled in. This just went from a handful of harmless mix-ups to murder.

My phone buzzed against the table again, this time with a text from Hunter. "I know you're mad at me, but please call me. It's about Rae."

I glanced from my phone to my best friend. We hadn't been around him for hours, so he shouldn't be under any kind of hex.

Rae read the text over my shoulder. "Well what are you waiting on? Call him already!"

Taking a deep breath, I hit the phone symbol in the top of the message box. It wasn't like avoiding him would change whatever it was that was going on.

"Hey, sweetie," he said when he answered.

"Hey. What's up?" I was still in a bit of a snit and wasn't quite ready to give it up, even though the rational part of my brain knew he'd been hexed. I'd get over it, but I needed an hour or so for my brain to connect with my temper.

"The strangest thing just happened," he said, confusing muddling his tone.

"Hang on a minute. Rae's here, and so are the girls. Can I put you on speaker so I don't have to repeat the story?"

"Sure, go ahead."

I hit the button, the told him to continue.

"Olivia called and gave up some girl named Bunny an hour or so ago.” Oh. So that’s why he’d been calling me. “Said she'd been hostile toward Katie for a while over some guy. Honestly, she droned on about the details for so long that my eyes glazed over, but to separate the cream from the whey, she told me I'd find the blue scarf that match the beret Katie was clutching."

"Yeah," Rae said, "but what good will that do?" She'll just say the hat was stolen or that she loaned it to her or something."

"That may have been a problem, except for I just got the full report back on Katie. Apparently she went down fightin' because she had skin under two of her nails and a few strands of hair in the hand that wasn't holding the beret."

"And you can match those to Bunny?" Addy asked. "I watch enough CSI to know that's still not fool-proof."

"Ah, but you didn't let me finish," Hunter said. "When I went to talk to her, I took a warrant with me. She was wearing one of those silky fashion scarves, and I made her take it off. Lo and behold, she had two long scratches on her neck. Rae's off the hook, assuming the DNA matches."

Monty'd moved closer when he heard Hunter's voice. After all, it's a bartender's responsibility to know all. By the time what Hunter'd said sunk in, he already had glasses of champagne in front of us.

It occurred to me as I took a sip that for a week where my best friend had been arrested for murder and somebody had tried to kill me, I sure had sipped a lot of champagne.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Hunter took off early to come have lunch and a couple of beers with us, and we explained it all to him while we plowed through enough food for ten people. Camille seemed to be sticking to her resolution to live it up, though unlike me and Shelby, she practiced moderation and shared a burger and fries with Emma.

Moira told us all about the life in big-city Virginia, which, to be honest, held no appeal for me at all. It may be cool to visit, though. And TJ definitely needed a sit-down. I'd liked her and wanted to be there for her for that regardless of the outcome.

We'd just finished eating when Addy popped in. We’re have guests coming to the farm. They’ll be there in about twenty minutes, and you all need to be there.”

“Who is it?” I grumbled. I had every intention of going home, but the only thing on my mind was a nap.

“Suzette, from Eagle Gap. I went to talk to them it was ... enlightening. Y’all need to get your buckets there, pronto.”

Camille pushed back from the table. “If it’s important enough for her to find somebody to watch her grandmamma and make the trip, it must be important. Let’s go, ladies.”

“Oh, she’s bringing her. That’s what she needs to talk to you about.”

“What does a witch well past her six-hundredth birthday have to do with any of this?” I asked.

Addy scowled. “Just get your tail feathers to the farm. Stop flappin’ your gums and get a move on.”

Shelby held out a hand. “All right, already. We’re going.”

“And Camille, don’t let those rings out of your site.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” she said as she motioned to Monty for our checks.

“Y’all go on,” Hunter said. “I’m meetin’ Matt out at the farm to work on the bikes, but I’m not in a hurry.” We dropped enough cash to cover our tabs, then rushed out the door.

By the time we got to the farm, there was a silver compact sitting in front of the house and two women—a middle-aged one and an old one—were sitting in two of the rocking chairs on the porch.

Shelby and Camille pulled in beside me, and I waved to the women as I climbed out of the truck.

“Y’all must be Suzette and Katherine. Welcome to Flynn Farm.” I made the introductions and invited them in. We all gathered in the kitchen with iced tea and pastries—yes, even after making gluttons of ourselves at the Cat, most of us made room for more, in the name of hospitality, of course.

“Suzette,” Camille said, “Addy said you needed to talk to us.”

“Indeed,” she said. “She popped over earlier and a couple troubling issues came to light.” She had a trace of a French accent that leant an air of sophistication to her.

Katherine took a drink of her tea and grimaced. “It was so much better when sugar was a luxury. Now everybody uses so much you can’t even taste anything else.”

“Grandmere!” Suzette said, her cheeks pinking. She turned to me. “I’m so sorry. She fades in and out. Lately it’s more out than in, and her manners fly out the door. She just opens her mouth and whatever’s in her head just falls right out.”

I coughed and motioned to Addy. “She has the same problem, but doesn’t have an excuse.”

Addy crossed her arms and glared at me. “Like your filter is any better than mine, Miss Punch-People-In-The-Mouth.”

I waved her off. “That’s different and only applies to one person, usually.”

“Ladies,” Camille said. “I’m sure Suzette didn’t come all the way here to discuss social skills.” She turned to Suzette. “Addy said you had something to discuss with us.”

“I do. I understand you recently acquired four rings made of sterling silver spoons. May I see them?”

Camille hesitated, but pulled the bag from her purse and spilled the rings onto the table.

Katherine’s eyes lit up. “Mes anneaux!” she said, reaching for them. Suzette blocked her but leaned closer to examine them. She heaved a great sigh and sagged as if a huge weight had settled on her shoulders while I looked around the table to see if I was the only one who had no clue what that meant.

“Mes anneaux.” Emma repeated. “My rings.”

“So you do pay attention to something other than the cute guy that sits beside you in French class,” Camille said.

Emma shot her a sizzling look. “I can multi-task.”

“That’s all well and good,” Shelby said after washing down a bite of peach turnover, “but why did she call them hers?”

“It is as I feared. I was hoping the current events were a coincidence, but they were not,” Suzette said.

Max wondered closer from the spot where he’d been dozing in the living room. Peering over the edge of the table, he donkey-smirked at me. “I told you so.”

“Wait,” Rae said, “He told you what?”

Our conversation in the barn came rushing back and I huffed out a breath. I was never going to live this down. “He told me it was common practice in his time for witches to imbue objects with magic and that this situation reminded him of those times.”

Raeann glanced at the rings as understanding dawned on her face. “Ohhh. Well that explains a lot.”

“It does,” Camille said as she placed the rings back in the bag and tucked them in her purse in order to get them out of Katherine’s reach. “But it doesn’t explain everything. What kind of magic do they hold and what was their purpose? How did they come into play to begin with?”

“I’ll answer your questions in order,” Suzette said. “Grandmere and her three sisters made the rings for their lovers back in the late 1500s. They were knights and the ability to charge into battle and fight without hesitation was critical to survival.”

“Okay,” Shelby said, “But wasn’t that, like, a knight’s schtick? Bravery and all that?”

Kathleen’s brows came together and she growled. “My Alexandre was the bravest of all knights!”

“Of course he was, grandmere,” Suzette said, then uttered something in rapid-fire French. The old woman relaxed in her chair, but continued to glare at Shelby.

Turning to us again, Suzette said, “Of course, but no good man can charge into battle for months or years at a time without growing weary. Grandmere and her sisters made these rings for their knights, so that they could charge into battle uninhibited by fear or hesitancy. The effect was immediate and lasted only long enough to focus their attention on their task. It wasn’t necessary after they were engaged in the fighting.”

“So that explains their creation.”

Max bowed his head in an unexpected display of respect toward Katherine. “A noble endeavor, madam. An art that’s been lost in recent centuries.”

Katherine bowed her head back and smiled, but then her gaze lost focus and she was gone again.

“Sir,” Suzette said to Max, “may I ask how you came to be in your current situation?”

“I made the regrettable error of scorning an Irish witch.”

“Ah,” Suzette said, nodding as if it made perfect sense. “And she set no caveat that would release the curse?”

Max lopped his ears off to the side. “Caveat?”

Suzette nodded. “Yes. It’s common in punitive curses for there to be a caveat that when the lesson is learned, the curse releases.”

Shelby barked out a laugh. “Even if that’s a thing, I’m pretty sure he’s not changed enough to lose his fur coat.”

Max scowled at her, but turned back toward Suzette and dipped his head. “You’ve given me much to think on, Mademoiselle. Thank you.”

He pushed his way out the screen door and the sound of his hooves clomping down the steps told me he was likely heading to the barn.

Addy snapped her fingers. “Poor decisions made more than five hundred years ago ain’t got jack to do with our current problem. Can we get back to the rings?”

“Of course,” Suzette said. “Grandmere is the last remaining survivor, and her sisters’ rings came into her possession when they passed. She used them on occasion in recent years to give a confidence boost to good people who were—as you say—getting in their own way. When her cognitive condition began to decline, I took them from her and placed them under wards.”

She glance at Kat, who was nibbling on her cranberry croissant. “I failed to consider who taught me to set those wards and that we share magic.” She arched a brow. “And that she gave me that box.” She sighed. “In short, I underestimated her.”

Glancing at Camille, she continued, “She found the box under my bed and unlocked the wards.” She shot her grandmammy an irritated look. “She’s had a soft spot for that style of jewelry and has several non-magical ones, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to wear one. I never gave it a second thought.”

Addy floated closer. “So that explains the odd behavior and recent ruckus in your neck of the woods? She got ahold of her juju rings and was using them?”

“Yes, put simply.” Suzette shook her head. “Most of the time, it was accidental. She’d shake hands with somebody, or pat them on the shoulder. A few of the times, though, she saw something she liked and, just by touching the proprietors, removed their inhibition to give their items away for free, which left them with their desire to please a little old lady.”

“And the witches?” Camille asked.

I stood to refill glasses while Suzette continued. I noted that she was twisting a handkerchief and avoiding eye contact.

“I still haven’t figured that out, but I do know silver is conducive and can be used just as easily drain energy as it can push it. Since the power of the rings has the unfortunate side effect of memory loss, I can only guess that’s what happened; she took when she meant to give. She’s a healer, so if she felt sickness, it would have been her instinct to help. I’ve confirmed that she was in the presence of all fourteen witches who were affected. And she had visited Nora the day before she died.”

“Nora called us,” Camille said, then explained the message they’d gotten. “The reception was poor. I think maybe she was saying Kat rather than cat, and that she’d give us the rings rather than give us a ring.”

“Then it makes sense.” Suzette’s eyes glistened. “So what is going to happen to her?”

Camille examined Katherine for a long moment. “Does she have any other imbued objects?”

Suzette shook her head.

“Then I believe that since Nora bound her before she died, Kat would be best served by remaining with you, under the observation of the MOC. I’ll have to discuss it with the council, but I believe they’ll agree.”

Suzette drew in a long breath, then slowly released it. “Thank you,” she said.

Suzette and Katherine stayed for just a few more minutes, then headed back to Eagle Gap.

After they left, Camille grumbled and picked up her phone. "I better call the council and tell them they spent thousands of dollars and hundreds of man hours tracking a little old lady who's gone round the bend."

"Wait a minute," Emma said when everybody started pushing back from the table. “Two questions. First, why weren't we affected?"

"That one's easy," Rae said, draining her tea glass. "After what happened with Mama, we beefed up our wards. The ones we were all taught guard against that kind of thing."

Camille nodded and pointed toward a small medicine bag Emma wore on a leather string around her neck. “Yours are similar, Emma. With my job, I wasn’t taking any chances.”

"Okay, then what happened to her powers and why did this Nora lady have the rings hidden in a table in her attic?"

"That's where things are a little shaky," Moira said, "But from what Camille's said, my guess is that Nora figured it out, got the rings from her, then bound her."

Rae nodded. "Yeah, I took a look at the recipe. They only problem with it was that she attached it to her own energy rather than pulling it from around her, and she did it by herself rather than with a group of three like she should have."

"But why?" Shelby asked.

"That's on us," Camille said, shredding her napkin. "We sorta blew her off longer than we should have because we had so many calls on the tip line like that. We never even called her death suspicious."

That made me sad, especially when I thought back to the look on TJ's face. She'd almost had a chance at having a family, and would have if her aunt had just waited on the council, but she must have had her reasons.

At least now we knew what had happened, and all was well. She was coming for a visit as soon as she could arrange time off from work, and Camille was going to work with her. Of course, all the rest of us would be there for her, too. I had a feeling we’d be seeing a lot of her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

After getting the go-ahead from Hunter, Skeet stepped up and "found" a broken brake line, so Olivia was off the hook, though she would never know the truth. Coralee had the rumor mill in fine working order and Roberta and Reverend Gabe came out lookin' better than they did before they were hexed, so that worked out.

And I was glad, in a weird way, that it worked out to be Bunny rather than Angelica who had killed Katie. Even though the murder was way outside the window compared to the other hex victims, I would have always wondered.

I was working at Brew so Angel could help her mama out when the bell over the door jangled and Olivia walked in, then trudged toward the counter where I was stocking pastries.

"Olivia," I said, trying to be civil.

"Noelle," she nodded back. The silence dragged on until it was almost painful as I waited for her to speak.

She looked like she had a toothache when she ground out, "Thanks for ... just thanks."

"You're welcome." I smiled, enjoying her discomfort, then remembered she'd hauled Rae's butt out of the sling, too. That wiped the grin off my face.

"Well, then, I guess thanks for Rae." I understood then why she'd looked like she'd been choking when she'd said it to me. The words tasted foul and wrong rolling off my tongue.

She dipped her head once, her nose crinkling like she smelled something bad. "You're welcome, you trash-mouthed hillbilly. We're even."

"We are, you ignorant cow. Get out of our shop."

As the door slammed shut behind her, I took a deep breath and smiled. Justin had a home, not one but two murders had been solved, Camille got her answers, everybody's crazy was put to rights, and I was a business owner, all in the span of a week.

Now the one remaining rip in the fabric of my world was mended—Olivia and I were back to being enemies rather than frenemies. Everything was back to normal, or as normal as Keyhole Lake got, anyway.

At least until I got that new boarder I’d been talking to Matt about, but that’s a story for next time.

<<<<>>>>

Other Books in the Witches of Keyhole Lake Series

Book 1: Sweet Murder

Book 2: Murder to the Max

Book 4: Mayhem and Murder

Bubble, Bubble, Here Comes Trouble: a Keyhole Lake Mystery Short

Thank You!

I know my style isn’t for everybody, but know that I appreciate your time and kind words via email and reviews. Also, if you’ve followed me through the series, thanks for allowing me a little latitude when I take a few sentences here and there to introduce our people and explain references to happenings in other books for anybody who may be starting here instead of with Sweet Murder. I want everybody to enjoy each book, and that helps.

Happy reading, and hopefully, we’ll meet up again in Mayhem and Murder!

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About Tegan

I was born and raised in the South and even hung my motorcycle helmet in Colorado for a few months. I've always had a touch of wanderlust and have never feared just packing up and going on new adventures, whether in real life or via the pages of a great book.

When I was a little girl, I didn't want to grow up to be a writer—I wanted to raise unicorns and be a superhero. When those gigs fell through, I chose the next best thing: creating my own magical lands filled with adventure, magic, humor, and romance.

I live in Florida with my two dogs. When I'm not writing or reading, I'm racing motorcycles with my tall, blond, and handsome half or binge-watching anything magical on Netflix.

I'm eternally grateful for all the people who help make my life what is today - friends, readers, family. No woman is an island.