by Tegan Maher
"Weird how?" Skeeter dealt with weird all day long, so if he thought it was out of the ordinary, it was likely a doozy.
"You know that truck that was hitched to your trailer?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Well I got it back here in impound and two fellers showed up demandin' to look inside it."
That was weird. "Did they say why?"
He paused and I could almost see him taking off his hat and scratching his head. It was a classic Skeet move when he was bumfuzzled. "That's just the thing. When I told 'em no, they got lippy, threatenin' me. I was in the back when they caught me, and I reckon they figured me for one of them city boys they could push around."
That was hilarious because Skeeter was raised with five older brothers. Even his mama was meaner than most men I knew when you crossed her. Sweet as pie, otherwise, though—don't get me wrong.
"So what'd you do?"
"I told 'em no, of course. They didn't like that none, though. Then they flashed me a picture of Gabi and asked if I'd seen her. Course, by then, I wasn't much in the mood to cooperate, so I told 'em I didn't even know her but would be glad to pass on their names if'n she came in."
I rolled my eyes. This was only gonna end one of two ways. "And how'd that go over?"
"Bout like a fart in church, I reckon. One of 'em went to lay his hands on me and it wasn't quite the same when he pulled it back. He's prolly gonna have to go have his thumb put back in place. The other'n must notta been too bright, because he stepped forward to try his luck. His nose is gonna need set, else he's not gonna ever be a pretty as he was when he got here."
Skeet was a wiry guy, and not a whole lot taller than me, but he was raised tough. Size isn't always a factor and folks tended to underestimate him. I smiled, but it worried me. He could handle himself, but I was beginning to get the feeling those guys played by their own set of rules.
"Were they wearin' suits?"
"Yeah," he said. "Slick-lookin' fellers. The one's gonna need to change though. You know how noses bleed when they get poked hard enough."
I laughed. "I do. Last time I popped Olivia, she was more ruffled about her good shirt than anything."
He snorted. "You think that girl'd learn. She ain't never come out on top, tangling' with you, so why she keeps trying' is beyond me."
"Some folks never learn, I reckon. Listen, did you call Hunter?"
"Not yet. He's next on the list, but I wanted to call you first. They were real interested in where I'd picked the truck up at and I wanted to make sure you were safe before anything else."
And that is why he was one of my best friends and would stay that way. He'd always been protective of me—just ask the guy who tried to get handsy with me at a high-school dance. Skeet had come around the corner just as I was shoving him off me, and the guy about lost the hand he'd been trying to put up my shirt.
"Aww, thanks, Skeet. I'm good, but I'll keep a lookout. I'm at the shop but I got the doors locked."
"Keep 'em that way. And I'd just as lief you girls stuck together. Don't none of you need to be alone, especially at the farm."
I arched a brow. "You know I'm a witch, right?"
"Yup. But that don't make you bulletproof, and I'd hate to have to kill somebody."
"I'd hate for you to, too." I smiled. "You wanna call Hunter or you want me to?"
"Nah, I'll call him. I need to get with him about some throttle-body assemblies he asked me to keep an eye out for anyway."
"All right then. Thanks for the heads up. And Skeet?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful. I'd hate to have to kill anybody either."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I FINISHED THE CHAIR and moved on to the table, my mind floating over all the pieces to the puzzle and trying to make them fit while my hands slowly stripped away decades of green paint. I had to be careful with the top because I didn't want to damage the tiles underneath, and was pleasantly surprised when, after lots of gentle rubbing, the tiles turned out to be arranged so that there was a red coffee cup with yellow steam in the center, and the tiles around the border were red, too.
I shook my head and Erol floated over to see what I'd found.
He tsked. "Somebody thought Christmas-tree green would look better than that? If some people had a creative thought, it'd die of loneliness."
Truer words. I went to work trying to remove the green paint out of all the crevices between the tiles. It would have been much easier to take a wire brush and some acetone to it, but I didn't want to damage the glaze on the tiles, so I was stuck using a soft-bristled brush and a rag. Painstaking, but it was going to be worth it.
An hour later, I stood and stretched the kinks out of my back and neck, but was pleased that I'd managed to get most of the top finished. The rest would be easy by comparison. I decided to call it a day and cleaned up the mess. The guys had installed a big fan in the back wall for me so I wasn't high as a kite by noon when I was working, but the place still smelled like paint stripper.
My stomach rumbled and I hurried things along. Hunter and I had opted to skip breakfast at the diner that morning like we’d planned so he could work on the case, so I hadn’t eaten.
I had a granola bar in my purse, but that wasn't going to cut it. I sensed chicken-fried steak in my near future. I'd left the money in the till last night, which was unusual for me. I was usually fastidious about that because in my life, money didn't grow on trees.
When I walked around the counter to get it, the pile of left-over doo-dads from the box of jewelry and knobs caught my eye. I'd forgotten to put them away when I separated them out from Anna Mae's jewelry.
Skeet was an avid fisherman, so I figured I'd stop on my way out of town and drop him off that spoon lure. I poked through the pile, putting each piece away in a drawer according to its function, but the lure was gone. I tried to think back to whether I'd seen it after I put the jewelry in a bag, and I was sure I had.
I remembered pushing it back from the edge so it wouldn't drop. Since I wore flip-flops as much as I wore shoes, the last thing I needed was to step on a rusty fish hook. I moved things around, but there wasn't much else on the counter. Stepping back so I could see under the edge of the cabinet, I scratched my head. It was nowhere to be seen.
Shrugging, I plucked the money out of the register and stuffed it in my wallet, happy that I'd made a little cash off those clocks the day before. The fish hook would surely turn up somewhere. I just hoped I didn't find it with my toe.
I flipped the TV to the Cozi channel for Erol—he was a huge fan of Magnum PI and Murder She Wrote—then shot a text to Hunter to see if he had time to go to the diner with me for lunch. He replied that he did just as I was climbing into my truck so I told him I'd pick him up in front of the courthouse.
In the two minutes it took me to get there, he was already waiting on the curb, so he was either starving or anxious to see me. I preferred to believe he missed me, but I'm realistic enough to know it was equal parts me and fried-and-gravied deliciousness. Not that I blamed him.
He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss before he fastened his seatbelt, and the scent of forest and ocean washed over me. No matter what time of day, the man always smelled amazing.
"Did you get the table and chairs done?" he asked.
"Almost. I just need to go over them one more time to get the residue off." I described the table to him, but he wasn't nearly as excited by the find as Erol was. He was happy that I was happy though, so that was good enough.
We chatted about a few things on the way to the diner. He'd talked to Sheriff Custer that morning and managed to convince him there were better suspects even though he didn't have anything concrete to offer him as an alternative.
"Did you talk to Skeet?" I asked.
"Yeah. He gave me a description of the car and got a partial tag, so I called a buddy in Atlanta to see if I can get a rush on it. We probably won't hear anything until tomorrow. I’m glad Gabi's staying at the farm. I'm gonna pack
a bag and stay there tonight so I can keep an eye out."
I flicked on the blinker to turn into the diner. "As far as I can tell, they're not even sure who she is. They're flashing a picture but not calling her by name."
"That doesn't mean they don't know who she is, though. It could just be an omission. They don't think of her as a person, so they don't use her name. They figure the pic is enough."
That made a certain amount of sense. "Well, none of us are gonna give her up, but it's only a matter of time before they figure out where—and if they don't already know, who—she is. We need to catch ‘em before that happens."
He pulled the door to the diner open and the familiar, comfortable smells of bacon grease and coffee assaulted my senses. My stomach growled. The Starlite diner had been a Keyhole Lake institution for more than fifty years. The current owners, Ray and Jeanie, had inherited it from Ray's parents and very little had changed since then.
Pictures of Elvis, James Dean, and Vivien Leigh hung above the counter and photos of the town throughout the years showed how little the place had changed, yet stayed the same. Overall, walking into the place was like slipping on your most comfortable jammies.
Their daughter Becki, the third in Shelby's girl group, worked there after school and on the weekends, but Jeanie was manning the counter that day.
"Hey, y'all! I feel like I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays. How you been?"
"Been great, Jeanie. How about you? How's your Mama?" She'd gone up to Richmond for a month to help her folks out while her mom had a hip replacement.
"She's good," she said, smiling as she led us to our regular booth. "Hardest part was keepin' her from overdoin' things. Just gettin' her to let me cook was a battle. Thank heavens we're fast healers, else we'd have killed each other. Daddy had the good sense to just stay outta the way. Everything good with y'all?"
I slid into one side of the booth and Hunter slid into the other. "Oh yeah, good as can be expected when you find a body in your barn."
She put her hand to her chest. "I heard about that. Girl, you gotta quit spendin' so much time with folks who've up and got themselves kilt. Any idea who did it?"
I snorted. "It's not like I choose it. And besides, it's only been one besides this one. And even then, I just happened to be workin' when Hank bit it. So far, we have no idea who killed this guy or why they did it in my barn." I glanced at Hunter, not sure how much I could say.
"We have some ideas as to why he may have ended up dead. The problem is figuring out who did it," he said. "He had a gambling problem from what I understand, so it's possible he didn't pay up."
Shrugging, she said, "That seems kinda counterintuitive if they wanted their money, but there's no explainin' why some people do what they do."
She chewed on her pen cap for a second. "You know, though, that reminds me. We had a couple slicked-up dudes in here last night. Becki came and got me because they weirded her out."
I glanced at Hunter. Mind you, there are plenty of folks in Keyhole that may freak tourists out, because outsiders tend to judge books by their covers, but we tend to see things backwards.
"Lemme guess," he said. "Suits, sort of Godfather knock-offs?"
She nodded. "Yup. Nailed it in one. They were askin' about Gabi."
My eyes shot to her. "By name, or did they show a picture?"
"Hm. I'm not sure. I know they showed her a picture because she mentioned it," she said. "Becki didn't like their vibe, so she asked them why they were looking for her. When they wouldn't give her a straight answer, she came and told me. Luckily it was busy, so she had an excuse to move on."
"What did you tell them?" I asked.
"Nothin'. By the time I got out there, they'd gone. Becki said Olivia and her crowd were sittin' across the aisle from them makin' googly eyes."
I heaved a sigh. "Great. They probably know everything about her but her bra size at this point."
"Probably that, too," she said. "I figured you should know, though. Coralee was in earlier and said Gabi was movin' to the farm, so ... fair warning. They'll likely look at Mama Meanness's house first though."
Jeanie had gone to school with Gabi's older sister, so she knew all about the family dynamics.
We placed our orders, and I know most people would say that after getting news like that, the food tasted like cardboard, but that just wasn't the case. Ray's chicken-fried steak was too good to ever compare to a box, but that didn't mean I wasn't worried, and from the expression on Hunter's face, I wasn't the only one.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RIGHT AS WE WERE GETTING in the truck, Jim Sanders, a regional CSI who lived in Keyhole, called Hunter. He'd gotten an order to go over the truck and wanted to know where it was at.
From what I could tell from Hunter's side of the conversation, he wasn't exactly pleased it had been moved from the scene, but there wasn't much I could do about it. He was a laid-back guy and after grumbling about it for a minute, he filed it under spilled milk and moved on.
Hunter said “uh huh” a couple of times.
"I'm gonna put you on speaker, okay?" Hunter said, then fumbled for the button. Jim's voice tumbled through.
"Noelle, you there?"
"Yeah, Jim. What's up?" I said as I pulled out of the lot.
"Hey, listen, there's a note in the glove box that's a little curious." I could imagine the frown lines on his forehead.
"Okay, what's it say?"
"It's cryptic, sort of, and it doesn't make sense to me why it was in Marcus's possession when it's obviously meant for Gabi. So, I contacted Sylvia Sturgess's attorney because it reads like an endowment."
"But Gabi already got what was bequeathed to her. She got a horse, a trailer, and a trust fund to cover the horse's expenses."
"That's what the attorney said, too. But this note is less formal. It reads more like a personal note rather than anything legal. Here's what it says." He cleared his throat.
Dearest Gabi,
For years, we have shared a love of horses and you have brought me countless hours of happiness. Your sharp wit and keen respect for all God's creatures have brought you as close to me as if you were my own daughter. You've often been the only bright spot in my day, especially in these last months when my body has failed me and I can no longer live my life as I see fit. For that, I'm eternally grateful.
I know when I'm gone, my material my legacy will be squandered on a card table, or a roulette wheel, or on whatever else my son sees fit to waste it on, but my most precious possession is much more valuable than every bit of land or horseflesh—no matter how fine—I own, and this, my dear Gabi, I leave to you.
By now, you've probably been notified that I left Mayhem in your care. I've also left his tack and equipment, a trailer and a trust, because I have no doubt that before I'm even cold, Marcus will liquidate the farm. That, unfortunately, is out of my hands due to the legalities of his father's will.
However, my personal possessions are mine to give freely to whomever I wish, and so now the ones I care most about are yours.
I've hidden the most valuable amongst your other bequests; start by looking near the key to my heart. May your life always be blessed with grace, beauty, spirit, and fire!
Love,
Sylvia
As he was reading, I felt a little like I was reading somebody else's diary and almost stopped him, but when I opened my mouth, Hunter held up a finger and shook his head.
When he was finished, silence fell for a few heartbeats.
"So what do you think it means?" I asked. "Was there anything else with it?"
"Nope," he said. "It was in a fancy envelope with her name on it and that's all there was."
"I don't suppose you can release it to us can you?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Not yet. I have to send it to the lab and have them check it for prints. I'm not sure if they'll release it at all until this whole mess is wrapped up."
Hunter's eyes lit up. "Jim, can y
ou take a pic of it and send it to my phone? I'll show it to Gabi and see if maybe it makes sense to her."
"That I can do," Jim said. "As soon as we hang up, I'll send it to you."
"Thanks. And get with me about fishin' this weekend. We have the tournament coming up in a few months and now that it's warming up, I wanna learn all the secret honey holes," Hunter said.
Jim laughed and agreed, and Hunter ended the call. A few seconds later, his phone dinged with an incoming text.
"Forward that to me, please," I asked as I pulled out of the diner's lot and onto the main road.
He nodded and tapped a few keys and my phone zinged with his Doppler Effect motorcycle notification.
"So that's weird," he said as he shut the screen off on his phone.
I shrugged. "Not really, if you think about it. I mean, it's created exactly the opposite situation she was shooting for, but I don't understand why she was so cryptic."
"I guess there's only one person who can answer that question," he said, "and she's staying at your place. Is she working tonight?"
"Nope. She's probably at the farm as we speak. She said she was going to spend the day with Mayhem because she hasn't been working with him much. She misses showing, but it's stupid expensive."
"Then take me back to my office and I'll grab my truck. Do you have anything else to do today?"
I shook my head. "I was considering going back in and finishing up the table and chairs, but that's a couple hours of work, counting clean-up. I'll leave it ‘til tomorrow."
"Okay—"
Addy popped in, out of breath. "You gotta come now. Two Al-Capone wannabes are there hassling Gabi. I'll go back and do what I can, but hurry, because that ain't much!"
She popped back up and I mashed the pedal to the floor. I thought about opening my end of the connection I shared with Shelby, but thought better of it; I didn't need her rushing in playing hero.
Instead, I reached out for Gabi—I'd been testing my limits with my telepathy and was getting pretty decent at it. I'd never tried at so long a distance with anybody other than Rae or Shelby, and they were both witches.
