Murder without Mercy

by Tegan Maher

  I lifted a shoulder. “I mean, it’s not like a body fell off one of the rides. That would have probably scarred me forever. Yeah, it’s bad, but I don’t think I really associated it with the carnival. Until now, anyway.”

  “That’s good then. So does he?”

  “Does who what?” I asked, my attention caught by a sleek yellow sports car that had just pulled up outside.

  Erol gave an exasperated sigh. “Hunter. Has he found any leads?”

  “Oh. No, not really, but he got a late start investigating because it took a good part of the day just to identify her. Her ID was fake.”

  A woman a few years older than me climbed out of the car and brushed what was likely imaginary lint off the front of her mint-green pantsuit, then adjusted a belt that reminded me of a cord curtain tie-back so that the tassels hung just so at her hipbone. The precise way her hair fell around her face and the artful highlights in it screamed expensive salon, and the diamond earrings she was wearing were so big they actually glittered in the sun.

  Erol followed my gaze. “Oh, my. That has high maintenance byotch written all over it. And that car! Why would you spend that kind of cash on a vehicle that color?”

  “What?” I said. “I kinda like the yellow. I probably wouldn’t buy that color, but it’s not terrible.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It makes her look sallow.”

  Upon closer inspection, he was right. But I would have never thought to match the color of my car to my complexion. I would from then on, though, probably.

  “She must have broken a nail,” I said as she stepped onto the sidewalk. With Coralee right next door, it only made sense.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied, drifting closer to the window. “I think she’s coming here.”

  She shielded her eyes with her hand and looked at the window of my shop. I loved the gold leaf I’d used on the name, but it did make it a bit hard to see when the sun was shining right on it. Apparently, this was the place she was looking for because she moved toward my front door. I hadn’t even turned the lights on yet. I flicked a wrist and did that, then shoved my purse under the counter. I wasn’t exactly dressed to greet customers, but then again, I hadn’t planned to. The best she was going to get was a professional smile.

  “Hi,” I said when she pulled the door open. “Welcome to Reimagined. Are you looking for something in particular?”

  I had most of my pieces on my website because that’s where I did most of my business, but folks did stop by occasionally to look at something in person that they’d seen on there.

  “Hardly,” she said, a note of disdain in her voice as she looked around.

  Great. Another one in less than thirty minutes. If she was going to be rude, then I was willing to return the favor. I wasn’t fabulous at taking the high road and I’d already exhausted my reserves of patience on the guy in Brew.

  I ground my teeth together and repeated the whole kill ‘’em with kindness thing. Except right then, I was having problems getting to the kindness part. Rather than prompt her, I decided to wait her out. I couldn’t say something mean if I didn’t say anything at all.

  “I’m Sophia West. My sister was murdered in this backwoods hole in the wall yesterday and I understand you were there.”

  I ran my tongue over my teeth and took a calming breath while imagining belting her in the mouth. “That would make you Mercy’s sister. I met her yesterday morning. She seemed really sweet.”

  “Yeah, that’s what most people thought. In reality, she was a spoiled brat who left her family in the lurch so she could run off and join the circus.” She curled her perfectly powdered nose.

  “We should all do what makes us happy,” I replied with a noncommittal shrug.

  “What about what makes others happy?” she asked, painted-on brow raised.

  “I guess that depends on how the others behave.” I shrugged. “Is there something in particular I can do for you, Ms. West? I’m quite busy.”

  Her piercing gaze roamed over my face. “I came to ask you some questions about my sister. Namely, what was found in her trailer.”

  “Are you referring to anything specific?” What would make this woman come all the way down here, in person?

  “You probably didn’t realize it, but regardless of the vagabond lifestyle my sister pursued, she was a wealthy woman. It’s my responsibility to see that her assets are properly managed.”

  “She’s so full of crap her eyes are brown,” a familiar voice said from behind me. I shifted my position so that I could see both Mercy and Sophia. Even with both of them in sight, I couldn’t see a lick of resemblance.

  “And by assets, you mean ...” I left the sentence open for her to fill in the blank.

  She waved a hand and the silver bangles on her wrist jangled together. “Finances. Bank books, credit or debit cards, documentation from financial institutions, a laptop or computer.”

  Mercy barked out a laugh. “I can’t believe it. I’m not even in the ground yet, and the catty vulture is looking for my money.” Her gaze shifted to mine. “Can I show myself to her? Will she be able to see me?”

  I shook my head but didn’t want to talk to thin air.

  Mercy narrowed her eyes at me. “No, I can’t show myself, or no, she won’t be able to see me?”

  I didn’t understand the difference, but I answered as well as I could while still making it seem as though I was talking to the only other visible person in the room. “It’s still an open murder investigation and Hunter might not be able to reveal things to you until that’s concluded.”

  “Sugar,” Erol said, “Not to get up in your business, but I think she’s tryin’ to tell you that you should probably keep a low profile in case Sister Sophia there was the one who throttled you.”

  I nodded and touched my nose to tell her he was right.

  “But I’m her sister,” Sophia exclaimed. “As her next of kin, I have the right to her belongings.”

  My head was starting to hurt from trying to keep track of two conversations, so when Mercy opened her mouth to retort, I shot her a warning glare, then answered Sophia. “I’m sure Sheriff Woods will be able to discuss this with you better than I can. As I said, I wasn’t in her trailer and don’t know what was in there.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I was just hoping that we could discuss this girl to girl. I’d just hate to see my sister’s funds accidentally disappear because some Podunk deputy with four kids by different mamas needed a little extra to pay his child support. I’m sure as an educated businesswoman, you can appreciate my position.”

  “No,” I said, fighting down the urge to curse her where she stood. “I can’t, actually. The Keyhole County Sheriff’s Department is honest and well-trained to a man, and I don’t appreciate the implication that just because we’re rural, we’re crooked.”

  Though to be fair, had she come to town just a couple of years ago, her fears—if they were legitimate—would have been well-founded. Hank would have disappeared any funds he was able to get his grubby hams on faster than you could have said Bob’s your uncle.

  She cleared her throat and her gaze slid to the side, away from mine.

  “Now,” I said, ready to see the last of her, “if you don’t mind, I have orders I need to attend to unless of course, you’ve changed your mind about buying something.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so.” Her words were semi-polite, but her expression indicated she smelled something rotten. She turned and made her way back to her silly little sports car. I thanked the stars and hoped that was the last rude person I had to deal with today.

  Erol darted to the window, looking like he was about to pop his cork. “You’re not just gonna let that pit viper get away with that, are you?”

  An idea popped into my head, and Erol clapped his hands. “Oh, honey, I love it when you get that Cheshire Grin smile. It always means something catty and highly entertaining is coming my way.”

  I twirled my finger, then pointed it
at her, sending a little zap of magic along with it. She opened the door to her fancy car and slipped inside, then jumped straight back out, hopping and howling while pulling at her britches, doing a mad little dance back to the sidewalk.

  “Oh, dear,” Erol said, grinning as the woman continued to pull the fabric away from her skin. “What did you do?”

  Mercy had joined him at the window, her face shimmering with the same evil glee that coursed through my veins.

  “She was a pain in my butt, so I gave her a few pains in hers. Oak burrs. Two under each cheek.”

  Erol howled, doubling over with laughter. Mercy looked confused, so I explained it to her. “Oak trees shed these spiny round things that are like two inches across and when they dry out, they’re like giant, spiky wooden burrs.”

  She cringed a little, but a smile spread across her face. “I knew I liked you, and this just confirmed it.”

  I motioned toward the door and locked it, then dropped the blind and headed to the back. Let her drop her drawers right on the sidewalk to get them out for all I cared. Not my problem.

  Smiling, I gave a happy sigh. It was awesome being a witch.

  Chapter 16

  “Do you really like doing this?” Mercy asked a couple hours later as I smoothed a layer of varnish onto the planks that formed the top of the table.

  “I do,” I said. “It’s therapeutic, and when I’m in the zone, it’s good therapy. I always thought my main gift was baking because when I’m lost in the rhythm of rolling out pastry or kneading dough, my magic just flows. It feels natural. Then I started doing this and found that the same thing happens when I’m sanding or painting. For some reason, it’s how my magic connects.”

  “I get that. It’s how I feel when I’m using my crystal ball or reading tarot. I know it’s cliché, but I dislike touching people. The magic is too raw and unfocused because of their emotions. Using the ball helps me filter all that out so I just get pure readings. It’s still intense, but in a concentrated way.”

  “Exactly,” I said, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. “I always felt bad for anybody who has your gift. I’m not a touchy-feely person by nature but contact with others is inevitable. I’m also a telepath, though that had always been a background magic. More of a way to communicate with my sister and cousin than a real gift. Then something happened a while back and my powers got juiced. It was a struggle for a while because I could hear what everybody was thinking.”

  She floated around, looking at some of the old Coke signs I’d converted to clocks. Those were some of my favorite pieces. “Lemme guess—everybody who knew that happened thought it must be so cool to know what people were thinking, right?”

  I nodded as I dipped the brush in the can and applied another coat to a streak I’d missed. “Pretty much. But it was just the opposite. Knowing how miserable the woman at the convenience store is, or how worried about his marriage the guy buying groceries in front of you is, or even how happy a couple is in a new relationship—complete with mental images—is no fun at all. It didn’t take me any time at all to get over the novelty and start working on how to block it out.”

  “But it has to come in handy, right? Like in this case. You could have read her mind to see if she killed me.”

  She was so nonchalant about implying that her sister may have been the one to do her in that I stopped painting mid-stroke.

  “I suppose I could have listened, but I didn’t. People with that much negativity have slimy minds. It feels almost like walking in tar peeking into their thoughts, so I don’t like to do it. It’s never worked out well for me because they rarely think beyond the here and now. They’re almost always Id-driven because they have little to no conscience or empathy.”

  “Boy,” she said, pressing her lips together for a minute, “you sure nailed her in one. I don’t want to think that she could have done it, but in theory, she’s perfectly capable of it.”

  “You really think your own sister would have killed you?” I couldn’t even imagine that, though I knew there were broken people in this world.

  “Maybe. It depends on what Daddy’s will said. Plus, they all had the same trust funds I did, so that’s incentive. If she can get the accounts and pull it out before anybody notices, she’d get away with it. I didn’t tell anybody where I moved those funds to.”

  “Didn’t your lawyer know?” It seemed like there had to be some way for somebody to trace all that money.

  “Nope. After he transferred it to the account I gave him, I transferred it again and didn’t tell a living soul.”

  “But now what?” I asked. “Now it just all sits there forever?”

  She shrugged. “That wouldn’t bother me. I’m dead, and my family can kiss it. No love lost there, and it’s not like they need the money.”

  I shook my head as I stroked on the final layer of varnish. I wondered how often that happened and where all that money ended up. Her case couldn’t be unique.

  “But just so you know,” she said, following along beside me with her hands clasped behind her back, “I did make arrangements for it to go to somebody.”

  “And how did you do that if you didn’t tell anybody about it?”

  She smiled. “I didn’t say I didn’t tell anybody about it. I said I didn’t tell a living soul.”

  I turned toward her, mouth open. “You found a magical loophole!”

  “I did. One of Serena’s aunts comes around to visit every now and again. She’s a dear soul and loves Serena to bits. Sometimes I think that’s the only reason she stuck around. Anyway, I wrote the bank account information and passwords on a piece of paper and taped it to a little hidden spot inside the glove box of that old tank of a car she drives, then told her auntie that if anything happened to me, to make sure Serena found it. I already named her as the beneficiary to all my accounts. She’s busted her hump all her life.” She dropped her face and her voice was barely above a whisper when she said, “At least something good came from all of this. She always refused to take a dime from me even after I told her I had more money than ten people needed.”

  My heart went out to her just like it did to Cheri Lynn. She’d lost her life before she’d really lived it.

  “That made me all the more determined to find out who’d done this to her and make them pay.

  “Did you manage to find out who the guy is that Frankie is here with? I think I might have run into him at the coffee shop just a little bit ago. The guy was definitely from out of town, and he was one unpleasant dude. Of course, the guy she’s with surely isn’t the only stranger in town, but he sure did fit the bill if your sister’s anything to go by.”

  She tilted her head at me as I washed the brush. “What did he look like?”

  I described him to her, trying to leave my personal impressions out of it.

  “Did he order a chai tea?” she asked, her brows drawn down.

  “Yup. And a double latte.”

  Mercy sighed. “Well, it sounds like we’re about to have a family reunion. That’s my brother, and if he ordered a double latte, it was likely for Frankie. That’s her go-to. What I can’t figure is why they were camping. She’s not loaded, but she’s certainly not so poor that she couldn’t afford a hotel room. And Joey’s loaded. Even more than I am because he’s still with the firm. Or at least I assume he is because he’s always been a mama’s boy. He’d never go against her wishes, and he loved the lifestyle that goes with those big commissions.”

  “Then it seems we have a place to start. Since you can slip around unnoticed a lot easier than I can, why don’t you get on finding out why they’re here? We still don’t know what paperwork they were trying to get you to sign.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “And I think I know what it might be. My brother, sister, and I are the fourth gen in our family to work for the firm. My dad’s grandfather started it way back in the twenties when everything went bust. He was a developer who’d worked his way up from a carpenter a
nd had been smart with his money. When the Great Depression hit, he was one of the few with enough socked back to buy up all the properties that went into foreclosure. By the time the Depression ended, he’d made so much money that we’d probably still be spending it today.”

  “Okay,” I said, “but what does that have to do with paperwork?”

  “My grandparents owned several estates, and I happened to be my Grampy’s favorite.”

  I smiled, trying to reconcile the image of a debonair real estate mogul being called Grampy.

  Her eyes glittered with humor. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, but he wasn’t like that. Like I said, his dad was a carpenter who just happened to be a hard worker who was good with his money. He wasn’t raised rich like my dad was or even like we were. He loved us, but my brother and sister were spoiled brats, as you’ve seen. I’m not sure why I was different, but I always preferred staying at the farm with him, riding his horses and climbing trees. Then when my gift started manifesting, he understood it, and he helped me to understand it.”

  She stared into the ether at nothing, her gaze nostalgic for a few moments, then she snapped back to the present. “Anyway, he skipped my dad in his will and left the farm to me and his two townhouses to my brother and sister. I got the better end of the stick by far, which really put their bloomers in a knot. He also left an apartment building to all three of us. When he built it, it was in a nice location in Louisville, but the area’s sort of fallen into disrepair because a lot of the mom-and-pop businesses that supported it died. They need my signature to sell it.”

  Finally, the real reason why her siblings would show up. “Ah, that makes sense, then. Don’t you think it’s awfully coincidental that your brother shows up with Frankie, though?”

  “Yeah,” she said, chewing on her lip. “That part’s pretty weird. They never got along, so that’s something we’ll have to figure out, though I’m sure there’s money behind it somewhere.” She sighed. “With those people, there always is.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt, sweetie, but Kristen just pulled up out front, and the door’s still locked.”