Murder without Mercy

by Tegan Maher

  I was surprised when he grinned. “Surprisingly, I do. Cheri Lynn and Rupert invited me to some party on the French Riviera. She said I might actually be able to eat food!” He licked his lips. “I had no idea such a thing was even possible.”

  I furrowed my brow. “She mentioned that, but it’s like, ghost food, right? Like, not real food?”

  He scowled at me. “Well, yeah, but in case you haven’t noticed, Noelle, I’m a ghost. Don’t burst my bubble. If it’s a thing, I’m going to consider my afterlife complete.”

  “What if he’s a bad cook?” I asked.

  He crinkled his face in a what the heck is wrong with you look. “Don’t you have a broom to catch? To somewhere that isn’t here?”

  I grinned at him. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just yankin’ your chain. I hope you have a great time. And I’m sure that if the guy’s a bad cook, you’ll have a fine time teaching him a thing or two.”

  He raised his brows and huffed a breath out through his nose. “You bet your booties on it. But not until I get in his good graces enough to make sure he doesn’t kick me out first. After all, I haven’t tasted a single thing in almost two years. At this point, I’d settle for even a semi-poorly cooked steak and not complain.”

  “Can’t say I blame you,” I said, winking at him as he faded out. I took a second to grab a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge in my little kitchen in the back, then went next door to Coralee’s.

  Chapter 7

  The inside of Coralee’s was the same as it had been since I’d been a little girl. The red Naugahyde chairs sagged a little from the thousands of bottoms they’d held, and the smell of Aqua Net, acetone, and fingernail polish blended with the fruity smells of hair products to make a comforting, familiar scent that was all Clip N Curl.

  The only thing that was really different was that Belle, the matronly woman with a tall beehive hairdo, was now the resident ghost rather than the owner. Her sole purpose in life—or post-life—was to make sure the gossip tree remained intact and to heckle Coralee over every snip, color, and curl. It was all done in love, though.

  “Hey, sugar!” Coralee called over the whine of the hairdryer in her hand. Her bleach-blond hair was, as always, perfectly styled in a high eighties-esque tease-and-feather and held rigidly in place by a half-can of hairspray.

  “Hey, Coralee,” I replied, hoisting my slouch bag onto the appointment counter. “It’s hot as blue blazes out. I thought you were gonna close down and go to the fair.”

  She shut off the hairdryer, and Marge, a regular who owned the local hardware store with her husband, gave me a little wave in the mirror. I smiled at the middle-aged woman. She was a core member of the Clip N Curl information dissemination hub and was often there to pick up—or share—the latest tidbits even if she wasn’t getting her hair or nails done.

  “I am, but Marge is going out of town tomorrow and needed a touch up before she left. I’m lockin’ up as soon as we’re done.” Her gaze shifted to the grease-stained bag I’d plopped on the counter beside my purse. “Whatcha got there? Please tell me there’s a lemon bar.”

  I grinned. When I’d included them in the regular lineup, she’d become addicted. You’d be surprised how much goodwill and information one little lemon bar could buy.

  “Of course there is,” I said. “I’m almost afraid to show up here without them anymore.”

  Alyse, her nail tech and part-time stylist, raised a brow. “That’s not all you brought, right? I know there’s a mixed-berry turnover in there because no way would you bring just lemon stuff.” Her nose crinkled in distaste. She was firmly in the anti-lemon camp when it came to sweets.

  “You know it,” I said, handing the bag over to her. “And if you want anything, Marge, there are blueberry muffins in there, too.”

  Her portly face lit up and she pulled the cape from around her. “I don’t mind if I do. And while you’re here, you can tell us all about the murder.”

  “Yeah,” Coralee said, sweeping up the mousy brown curls from the floor. “Peggy Sue texted us shortly after it happened, but she didn’t have any details other than that the girl was the psychic at the fair and she was strangled. What else?” She looked at me expectantly.

  One thing about these girls: they didn’t make any bones about wanting the good stuff. No behind-the-hand whispering for them. Their rabid nosiness was always on full display.

  I lifted a shoulder and waived Alyse off when she offered me the bag. “Nah, I’m still stuffed from Bobbi Sue’s. Those are for y’all. There’s not much to tell aside from that, really. Her name was Mercy McDermitt and she was about my age. Serena said she’s super private.”

  Belle swooped over so I could see her, then crossed her arms over her ample bosom and raised a penciled-on brow. “You mean to tell us you didn’t learn a single thing other than that? You don’t have something you maybe want to share with the class?”

  I sighed. Of course, she already knew Mercy hadn’t crossed over. “Well, the murdered girl’s ghost showed up a few minutes after that poor woman found her body. She doesn’t know anything, though. Or at least if she does, she’s not tellin’ us. She was defensive.”

  “What about her friend?” Coralee asked. “Did she have any idea who might have wanted to hurt her?”

  I furrowed my brow. “What friend?”

  “That little brunette girl. Francesca or whatever. Introduced herself as Frankie when she was in here yesterday. She broke a nail and needed it fixed,” Coralee said.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of any friend,” I replied. “Mercy didn’t mention her, and she wasn’t there when I stopped at the tent this morning. Though I don’t guess that necessarily means anything. Did she say why she’s here?”

  Alyse swallowed her bite of turnover, then washed it down with a sip of Dr. Pepper. “Said she just came down to visit because she hadn’t seen her in a coon’s age. I got the feeling maybe they’d been estranged or somethin’. She kept sayin’ how glad she was that she’d finally tracked Mercy down.”

  I pressed my lips together for a second, turning that over in my head. “She used those exact words? Tracked her down?”

  Alyse thought for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah. She made it seem like she hadn’t known where Mercy was for a while. And she did say it had been almost two years since she’d seen her. She was stoked. I guess she was plannin’ to surprise Mercy last night. Or maybe this morning. She didn’t really say.”

  “Did you get a last name for this Frankie person?” I asked, counting on their obsessive need to know everything about any stranger that came through.

  She nodded, then licked the last crumbs of glaze and pastry off her fingers. “Donovan, it said on her credit card. Said she was from Kentucky.”

  It didn’t surprise me at all that she’d made a note of the name. The girl was, after all, a stranger. That alone put her square in the “interesting people” category.

  “She didn’t happen to say where she was staying, did she?” I asked.

  Alyse shook her head. “Nope, but I can tell you she didn’t strike me as the type that would stay at a cheap motel. I’d check the Holiday Inn out by the highway since it’s the nicest thing we’ve got around here. From the way she was talkin’, she was plannin’ to visit for a bit. I doubt she was stayin’ too far away.”

  “Maybe she was stayin’ with Mercy,” Coralee said, wiping the crumbs from the counter with her napkin. “I mean, if they were that close, surely Mercy would have put her up so they could catch up.”

  “Maybe,” I said, though that didn’t feel right to me. I wondered why Mercy hadn’t mentioned her to us when she’d appeared. Surely that would have been something worth bringing up. “I’ll check with Hunter and see if he’s learned anything. He could already be heads and tails past us on this.”

  I stood and gathered my purse. “I assume Hunter’s gonna be busy with this all day, so I guess I’ll go see some of the displays. Maybe watch a pie-eating contest or two.”

  My o
nly other option was to go home, and I didn’t really want to sit there by myself all day since Gabi was out with Will. I considered going and grabbing Justin, but if something came up and Hunter needed me, I didn’t want to disappoint him again.

  “The 4H is hosting a pig race. I think Becky has her project pig in it. She’s been workin’ with him for months to teach him how to go through those hoops and over the little jumps,” Coralee said. “I swear, she’d bring that thing in the house if she could. She got so attached that she couldn’t sell him at auction.”

  Becky was one of Shelby’s closest friends and I knew she was a little lost since Shelby and Emma had left for college without her. I felt bad because for a number of reasons, namely high tuition costs and her grandmother’s health, she’d opted to take a gap year before starting. Of course, with the whole secret-magical-society thing my sister and Em had gotten into, it had probably worked out for the best.

  Marge shook her head. “Back when I was a kid, it didn’t do to get attached to any meat animal on the farm. I remember the first calf I bottle-fed. My daddy ended up lettin’ me keep him because I couldn’t stand to let him go, but he made it clear that was a one-time thing.” She shrugged. “Life on a farm. You get used to it, and Daddy was always humane. Nothing ever suffered, so it was just the circle of life.”

  “I’ll stop over,” I said, picking up my bag and hoisting it onto my shoulder. “Those are always good for a laugh, and it’ll be good to see Becky.”

  “We’re heading out, too,” Coralee said, pulling her purse out from under the counter. “You wanna get together for a girls’ night tomorrow? It’s been a while.”

  “Let me see what Hunter’s doing. Fancy’s is gonna be packed to the walls with the fair goin’ on, too. What about Monday when everything’s settled down?” I glanced toward Alyse and Marge.

  The older woman held up her hands. “Don’t look at me. My days of carousin’ are over. I’m in bed by nine most nights. Six o’clock comes early.”

  “Monday would be better for me, too,” Alyse said. “I’m goin’ to the carnival with some friends tomorrow night.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “If Monday night works for you, Coralee, I’m in. I’ll let everybody know.”

  “Monday it is, then,” Coralee said as we walked out the front door. She turned around to lock the door, then we went our separate ways.

  Chapter 8

  I texted Hunter to let him know about Frankie just in case he hadn’t already found out about her. I still thought it was strange that Mercy hadn’t mentioned her, but to be fair, the girl had just died. She probably had bigger things on her mind than entertaining company. I kept hoping she’d put in another appearance, but my walk up the street was peaceful.

  I crossed the town square and smiled when I saw Angus and his girlfriend Trouble hovering over the bench he’d often slept on when he’d been living. We’d even put a plaque on it with his name when he’d died. Now there he was, laughing and goofing off with the love of his life, happier dead than he’d been most of the time he’d been living. It made my heart smile.

  “Hey, guys,” I said when I got closer. “How are you two doin’ today?”

  “Hey, Noelle!” Angus exclaimed. “We’re just fine and dandy. We’ve been at the carnival tryin’ to figure out how they rig some of those games. Ain’t no way so many people lose at them fair and square. Why, Matt took a couple turns at the rifle game and missed all six times. He was special forces for cryin’ out loud! You can’t hardly tell me he missed all six because he was outta practice.”

  Trouble grinned and shoved her long blond braid off her shoulder, then hiked up the spaghetti strap of her yellow blouse. “It’s just killin’ him how they work the one with the bowling pins, too.”

  He mock scowled. “I know they rig it. I just can’t prove it.”

  I smiled. “I think they’re probably weighted so that they’re bottom-heavy. Plus you have to knock ’em all the way off the platform instead of just knockin’ ’em down, so that doesn’t help, either. Folks don’t seem to mind, though, if how much money some of them dump into the games is any indication. Have you been to the 4-H area yet?”

  Trouble shook her head. “No, but Angus said there’s some sort of pig race over there in a little bit. I’ve never seen such a thing, so I’m sorta excited for it.”

  “That’s where I’m going, too,” I said, motioning to them. “Becky has Priscilla entered, and Coralee says she’s been workin’ to teach her everything she needs to know to win it. I guess there are jumps and stuff.”

  Angus gave me a disbelieving look as he floated along beside me. “Pigs don’t jump.”

  I shrugged. “I guess they do now.”

  It wasn’t hard to find the spot where they were holding the races, and if the noise and the size of the crowd were indicators, we’d gotten there just in time.

  “Do you see Becky anywhere?” I asked, standing on my tiptoes to try to get a better look. “You two can float higher and see better.”

  Angus did just that, then pointed. “There! She’s over by the judges stand. Everybody is, it looks like.”

  I pushed my way through the crowd, wincing when I tromped on some poor girl’s toes. Fortunately, she was wearing cowboy boots, so at least I didn’t break anything. Becky was kneeling beside a black pig with white spots, talking earnestly.

  “You’ve trained all year for this, Prissy, so don’t stress. You’ve got this,” she said, adjusting the pig’s pink rhinestone harness.

  I had to smile because I was pretty sure I’d never heard anybody give a pig a pep talk.

  “Are you sure she’s the one stressing?” I asked.

  Her gaze shot to me, and her blue eyes were shining. “Maybe the talk was for me as much as for her. How you doin’? I haven’t seen you in forever, it seems like. I talked to Shelby this morning.” A frown marred her pretty features as she pushed her blond bangs off her face. “She’s been awful busy lately. We play phone tag a lot, and when we do get to talk, she always sounds either tired or like she’s in a rush to get somewhere. I feel like I’m buggin’ her.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you’re not. I promise. She’s just got a ton of stuff going on. She always asks about you and she and Emma both miss you. They can’t wait for you to join them next year.”

  She worried her lip with her teeth. “That’s why I’ve been workin’ so hard. I’m also volunteerin’ and doin’ community service when I can because there are a couple scholarships that I’m workin’ toward. I think I have ’em in the bag, and they’ll really help with tuition.”

  It killed me that I couldn’t just twitch my nose and give her the money, but life didn’t work that way. Her folks would have never gone for it and neither would she.

  She smiled. “I’ve already decided, though, that even if I don’t get them, I’m gonna bite the bullet and get the loans. Nana’s recovering, and soon Mama won’t need to be with her day in and day out, so they won’t need me so much at the diner. I’ll be all set to go for sure.”

  Her pig nudged her and gave her a little squeal. “Aww, don’t you worry, Prissy. Mama and Daddy will take good care of you while I’m gone.” She turned back to me, her eyes shining and her lips turned up into a conspiratorial grin. “They grumble about her, but Daddy takes her with him on his walks, and I caught Mama givin’ her apple peels the other day. I’ll miss her, but she’ll be just fine.”

  “So how does this work?” I asked, bending over to pet Priscilla, who snuffled my hand. “Is it just a race from one end of the arena to the other?”

  She shook her head, sending her blond ponytail swinging. “It used to be sorta like that, but not anymore. Now it’s more like a dog’s agility course. We go in one at a time and go through an obstacle course. There are jumps and tunnels and a weave-through. Whoever does it the fastest with the fewest errors wins.”

  I raised my brows. “And there are enough people interested in that to host a competition?” I realized too late that I hadn’t
said that very well and was afraid I’d hurt her feelings. I was worrying for nothing, though.

  “You’d be surprised,” she said, smiling. “It’s a pretty big deal in this region. Some people actually travel around to fairs and competitions and get serious about it.”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” I said, returning her smile. “I’ve just never heard of it.”

  “It’s pretty niche,” she replied as a voice over the loudspeaker called the competitors to the arena. “But stick around. It’s cool to watch, or at least I think it is.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” I said as she called to Prissy to follow her. “Luck!”

  I found a place at the fence and propped my elbows on the top rail and one foot on the bottom one, waiting for the event to start. She was right—it was fun. I knew pigs were smart, but it was like the trainer and swine were partners. Becky and Prissy made it through the whole thing with only one error when the pudgy little pig knocked off a rail when she jumped a miniature fence.

  A little kid sitting on his daddy’s shoulders beside me dropped his sippy cup and it toppled over the railing. I smiled at the exhausted-looking man, then squeezed between the rails to get it since they were between competitors. When I did, something shiny peeking through the dirt caught my eye. Passing the sippy cup to my other hand, I reached back in and moved the dirt a little to reveal a chain. I hooked a finger through it and pulled it from the soil.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing the cup to the guy without even really looking at him.

  “Whatcha got there?” he asked, wiping the sippy part of the cup off on his shirt before handing it back up to the dirty-faced toddler on his shoulders.

  I held the chain up, swatting it a little to clear the dirt from the links and locket. I blew on it and was surprised to find it wasn’t just some cheap necklace somebody had dropped and forgotten about. No, it was a cameo set into a sterling silver locket with intricate engraving. The cameo itself was a deep purple rose with a black backdrop.