Mayhem and Murder: Witches of Keyhole Lake Mysteries Book 4

by Tegan Maher

  I smiled as he ambled across the yard, raising his hand to Matt. I hated to see him leave but I loved to watch him go.

  He turned back toward me. "Don't forget to tell her about Clara Thomas. Maybe she knows her."

  Gabi crinkled her brow. "Who's Clara Thomas?"

  After I gave her the rundown, she shook her head. "Never heard of her, but I can say that even though I can't stand Custer, I've never known him to be crooked. Things are pretty straight over there."

  "Something's not adding up somewhere."

  "Yeah," she said, hopping off Mayhem and leading him toward the gate, "but where? What did you say the guy's name was? The one with the green truck?"

  The gate latch was just a rope that looped over the post. Mayhem picked it up with his teeth and slid it off the post, then nudged the gate open with his nose. I smiled and shook my head. You could call him a lot of things—my preference was pain in the ass—but you couldn't call him dumb.

  "Sam Keith, and the guy who pointed us to him was Dirk Henderson."

  She puckered her lips, thinking as we walked toward the wash rack. "I know Dirk. He's kind of a dirtbag; his favorite thing to do was hang out with Marcus and blow Sylvia's money. I don't know Sam, though."

  She slipped Mayhem's bridle off and replaced it with his halter, which was already hanging on the rack. I uncoiled the hose and turned it on. As soon as the water poured out of the end, Mayhem stuck his lips out to me, asking for a drink. I obliged, and grinned as he turned his lips up. It was then that I spotted a mark on his muzzle that I'd never noticed before, and I flushed cold then hot as a puzzle piece clicked into place.

  There, running horizontally along the very edge of his white lip, was a black mark shaped roughly like a key.

  "A key," I muttered under my breath, the water hose forgotten, hanging from my limp fingers and splashing water on my shoes. Mayhem nudged me, but I shut it off and reached for his face.

  "Gabi."

  She had her back to me, bent over taking off the skid boots that protected his lower legs from injury during sliding stops. She didn't hear me over the rip of velcro.

  "Gabi!" I snapped, finally catching her attention. Mayhem's lip was back in its usual position and the mark was invisible. I cupped his chin in my hand and asked him to raise his head. She came around and I pointed at it.

  "Ohmuhgod," she said. "The key to her heart."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  "SYLVIA SHOWED ME THIS once when I pointed it out, in pretty much the same exact conditions. We were giving him a bath, getting him ready for a show. She laughed, and said it was the key to her heart."

  I pulled the letter up on my phone; Hunter had forwarded to me the day we'd gotten it.

  Start by looking near the key to my heart.

  She rubbed his cheek, then put her hand on his lip. "C'mon big guy. Let's see if you're hiding anything in there."

  When she lifted it up, I was surprised to see numbers tattooed on the inside of his upper lip. That was common practice in racing, required, actually, but not so much outside of the sport. Some owners did it as an extra layer of security in case of theft. Apparently, Sylvia was one of them.

  I looked closer.

  "That's not right," I said. Racing tats are nearly always either four or five numbers, with a letter in front of them. His was six numbers, or three, depending on how you looked at it because of spacing: 13 42 12.

  "Is that on his papers?" I asked.

  She shrugged. "To be honest, I didn't really look at them. The attorney had them, along with the trailer title. He had all the transfers of ownership ready for me and all I really had to do was sign. And sign and sign."

  While she talked, she unbraided his mane so she could wash it. "I swear, I spent two hours just reading through everything and signing, but I just skimmed over his registration papers because they were familiar to me. They were legit, so I signed. This guy's not just a lawyer; he and Sylvia grew up together. She trusted and liked him."

  I went to work freeing his tail from the tail bag. "Do you have the papers?"

  She shook her head. "At the time, I had no idea where I was gonna end up, and I didn't wanna send them to Mama's house, because she just throws my mail away. I had them sent back to his office."

  I huffed out a breath. It was Saturday, so there was no way he was available.

  "Focus on the numbers, then," I said as she hosed him down. "Do they make any sense to you?"

  She shook her head. "Nope. We're no closer to the treasure than we were an hour ago."

  "No, but an hour ago we didn't know what the key was, so maybe it's just a matter of the next piece falling into place."

  The kids came trotting back into the yard from the side pasture, and the boys were grinning from ear to ear. They rode up to the hitching posts in front of the barn and dismounted. It seemed like they slid for a mile before they reached the ground, but their horses were already standing hipshot, glad to be home.

  I was glad to see they weren't sweaty; since the whole Christmas debacle, Shelby had been much more responsible, but she was still young and running a horse—no matter how old you were—was fun. Justin was like a hitch-hiker burr in the saddle, but I didn't know Shane's real skill level, so I was glad Shel and Emma had taken it easy.

  As they unsaddled, I cringed as Shane's horse shook and toppled the saddle to the ground. They were sturdy, but it barely missed taking Shane down with it. Bless his little heart though; he saw it falling and did his best to catch it. Justin ducked under his horse's neck and helped him lift it back up, smiling as he did.

  How he lived through the foster-care nightmares on top of losing his folks and still came out soft-hearted and kind was beyond me, but I was grateful.

  Gabi and I worked in silence for a few minutes, sudsing Mayhem up until his white sparkled and his black gleamed—no small feat for a horse who reveled in rolling in every mudhole he could find. The mundane act of washing and conditioning and braiding was soothing after the week I'd had and I suddenly wished I was going to the show with her.

  We were finishing the final braids in his mane when I heard a truck rumbling up the drive. I looked up and Bobbie Sue was coming around the final bend. I squinted; there was somebody in the truck with her, but it wasn't Earl. Anna Mae, maybe.

  She pulled up in front of the house, then jumped out of her truck and jogged toward us, a huge smile on her face. "Y'all ain't gonna believe what happened to me today!"

  Bobbie Sue was always a ball of energy, but she was so fired up then that she was bouncing on her toes.

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing, but it didn't work. "We may not, but I think you should probably tell us anyway, before you blow plumb up."

  "Well, I was at the QuikStop—"

  "Wait," I said, "I thought you said that wasn't you at the QuikStop?"

  She scowled at me. "I'm talking about this mornin'," she said. "And if you wouldn't have talked over me, I'da said that."

  I held up my hand. "My bad. Please, do tell."

  "Alrighty, then." She glanced over her shoulder toward her truck, but the person sitting in it was looking down at her phone, so I couldn't tell who it was.

  "Who's in the truck?" I asked, earning me another dark look.

  "Would you zip it so's I can tell the story? I'm gettin' there."

  I pressed my lips together then made the locking motion over them.

  "So"—she glared at me, practically daring me to interrupt her again—"as I was sayin', I was at the QuikStop and Susie Barker was workin'. She said she saw me the same mornin' you did."

  She paused, but I kept my mouth shut, waiting for her to continue. "She was busy restockin' the donuts so she didn't get a chance to talk to me. Apparently there was a new girl workin' there that just moved to Keyhole Lake. It wasn't until yesterday, she worked with the girl—Kelly—again. Apparently, it was busy that morning."

  I nodded, remembering how there'd only been one pump open when I pulled in.

  May
hem reached out and nuzzled the chest pocket of her flannel and she swatted him away, but smiled. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a peppermint.

  "You want this?" She asked him, holding it up.

  Of course, he nodded, and she unwrapped it.

  "Would you mind?" I asked, impatient that she'd started a story and left off the feel candy to a horse.

  "I'm gettin' there," she said as Mayhem crunched the candy. "Anyway, apparently I left a note with Kelly asking me to get in contact with me, and left a number, and Kelly stuck it under the register and forgot to tell her to tell me."

  I tilted my head and looked at Gabi, trying to figure out if I heard all those words in the wrong order or something. She looked every bit as bumfuzzled as I felt.

  "Yeah, you're gonna have to find a different way to explain that one," I said. "You lost me at ... well, I don't think you ever had me."

  She huffed. "It ain't hard. Kelly told Susie that a woman gave her a note that morning, but that she'd stuck under the register and forgot to mention it because they were busy." She looked back and forth between us. "You with me so far?"

  Gabi looked at me and I gave a tentative nod.

  "So far, yes," she said.

  "Well, Kelly gave the note to Susie, along with a description of the lady—Susie recognized it as me. It was a message for me, with a phone number, except it used my full first name without the middle—Roberta Banks."

  Yeah, when she said it like that, it didn't sound like her at all.

  "Kelly works at the bank a couple days a week, too, so she recognized the name, and realized something didn't add up, so she called me and gave me the phone number from the note. And I called it."

  She stopped again, and this time I wanted to shake her, except I knew she could kick my ass.

  Holding up a finger, she said, "Wait here. I'll be right back."

  Like we had any choice. I didn't know about Gabi, but my brain was so tangled trying to twist some sense out of everything that I probably couldn't have moved had I wanted to.

  Bobbie Sue stuck her head in the open truck window and said something, the passenger door swung open. Justin came running up to me asking about thirty questions at once, but I put my hand on his shoulder and turned him in the direction of Bobbie's truck.

  He was quiet for a couple of heartbeats, then looked up at me. "There's two of 'em. How'd that happen?"

  How indeed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  STRIDING BESIDE BOBBIE Sue was a woman who looked exactly like her. Literally, they were mirror images of each other, except the other woman had short hair and was wearing linen slacks and a blouse rather than jeans and a t-shirt.

  Gabi, Noelle, I’d like you to meet my twin sister, Sandra.”

  The paperwork she’d brought to Ms. Monday now made a whole lot more sense.

  “Apparently, we were both adopted out to different families. She got the same paperwork I did about our biological dad’s death. They sent us identical packets, except hers included two letters explainin’ everythin’, and mine included none. In essence, our father wanted us to know about each other, but wasn’t allowed to according to the rules of the adoptions. But they can’t hardly sue him now, can they?”

  Justin stuck his hand out. “I’m Justin,” he said as she took it. He motioned to Bobbie Sue with his head. “I’m her kid. Well, and part Noelle’s too, but mostly Bobbie Sue and Earl’s.”

  Sandra smiled and clasped his hand in both of hers. “I’ve heard a lot about you young man. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Sandra’s voice was just like Bobbie Sue’s, yet it was a little more cultured and had a slightly different accent.

  “Does that make you my aunt, then?” he asked.

  Sandra glanced at Bobbie Sue, unsure how to answer.

  “It sure does,” Bobbie Sue said.

  “Cool!” Justin said. “Do I have any cousins?”

  Sandra laughed. “You do, indeed.”

  “I gotta go tell my friend. He was talkin’ about his cousins, and now I can tell him I have some, too!”

  He raced off, and she smiled after him.

  “Where were you raised, Sandra?” I asked.

  “Valdosta, mostly,” she said, her gaze wandering over Mayhem. “That’s a fine animal you have there.”

  Bobbie Sue snorted as Mayhem turned his head sideways and reached for her pocket again with his upper lip. “Fine as long as you got peppermints and plenty of gate latches.” It was hard to take the bluff too seriously though, considering she reached into pocket and pulled out another mint for him.

  Seeing him reaching for the mint reminded me of our adventure. I couldn’t share Janey’s story yet because I didn’t know Sandra, and we had a strict rule about strangers. They didn’t get to know anything until the living-impaired community put it to a vote.

  So we explained the whole situation, right up to showing them the tattoo. Sandra stepped closer, not seeming to mind that he was wet or nuzzling her nice blouse.

  “May I,” she asked, motioning to his lip.

  “Sure,” Gabi said, shrugging. “The worst that can happen is we don’t know any more than we do right now.”

  Sandra patted Mayhem, then placed her hand under his chin, gently resting it on her hand, then lifted his lip up.

  “I think I can actually contribute here,” she said. “I ride, but mostly Western Pleasure.”

  That just so blew me out of the water because Bobbie Sue was Bobbie Sue. Her twin had obviously been raised in way different circumstances.

  “The foster home that I aged out of”—I raised my brow because that wasn’t what I expected at all—“was a horse ranch. Well, they preferred to call it a breeding and training facility.”

  She waved a hand, “but whatever. Anyway, I showed with them, and made a friend who used the Pleasure classes to get her younger horses used to the arenas while they were in training. Her father used a tattooing system just like this. The first two sets of numbers were the sire and dam, and the last was the birthing season.”

  Sandra glanced at Gabi. “Was he a 2013 colt?”

  “Yup. Sure was,” she said.

  “That may explain it then. I’m not sure how much good it’ll do you, but I’m glad I was able to help a little, anyway.”

  “No, it’s another piece of the puzzle,” Gabi said. “Thanks.” She unhooked Mayhem from the wash rack and turned to the barn. “Would you like to meet the rest of the horses?”

  “Sure,” she said, enthused, but turned to Bobbie Sue.

  Bobbie Sue motioned toward the barn. “You go ahead. I know every critter in there. Watch out for Cupcake. Sometimes she don’t live up to her name.”

  Gabi and Sandra were talking horses as they walked away. I turned to Bobbie Sue. “You okay with all of this?”

  She huffed. “Are you kiddin’? I’m more than okay with it. All my life I wanted a sister. If I had to wait ’til I was fifty to get one, that’s early than I ever expected.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Then I’m happy for you.” I turned in the direction of the pole barn. “Wanna come see the goodies I got today, and keep an eye out for me while I unload it? I got a humdinger of a story to tell you.”

  She grinned. “Lead on. I do love a good humdinger.”

  While I unloaded everything, I told her all about Janey, then about the new developments with the murder.

  “Dang,” she said. “And here I thought I was gonna have the only [long, lost twin] story of the week.”

  “Oh, you take the prize there, for sure. But I don’t like this whole mess. It stinks.”

  “Yeah, somethin’ ain’t right for sure. But how are you gonna manage to string it all together? You’re missin’ something critical.”

  Rae’s truck came rolling up the drive, and she parked beside Bobbie’s truck, then waved toward the barn.

  “Over here,” I called.

  She turned sideways to sidle between the trailer and the barn, then did a doub
le-take when she saw Bobbie.

  “You were just—” she pointed to the barn.

  “No I wasn’t, either,” Bobbie Sue smiled. That’d be my twin sister, Sandra.

  Rae took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ve apparently missed a few steps. Back up to the beginning.”

  I ran my tongue along the teeth, hoping Bobbie told her the same way she told us, just for the entertainment value.

  While Bobbie talked, Rae helped me magic the stuff out of the trailer.

  By the time she was done explaining, we only had one more box to move out of the trailer. Bobbie smiled and waved across the yard.

  “If you’re gonna witch that anywhere, do it now, because you’ve got about thirty seconds,” she said through her smile.

  That thing was a monster and there was no way I was lifting it myself so I didn’t burn any daylight getting it out. It had just settled on the table when Gabi and Sandra strolled to the doorway.

  Gabi’s gaze roamed over the haul. “Dang, you did get a ton of stuff.”

  I showed off some of it, and we tossed around some ideas for mismatched items I’d thrown in at the last minute. When they’d told me to take it all, they’d meant it. It was gonna take me two days just to sort through it all and I had enough projects to keep me busy for weeks, if not months.

  “Oh, and I almost forgot the best part of the whole story,” I said, pointing to Janey’s bed set. I told them the story, switching it up so it was Bob that told me the story rather than Janey.

  “Oh, and I forgot to tell you about Norman!”

  Four blank faces started back at me.

  “Norman Norell,” I said as if that explained everything. I was proud that I’d remembered his whole name.

  “What does a fashion designer who’s been dead for fifty years have to do with anything, even if he was brilliant?” Sandra asked.

  “What?” she said. “I loved to look at magazines of all the beautiful women when I was a little girl.”

  “Norman is Erol’s rat,” I said.

  “Who’s Erol?” Sandra asked.

  Oh. Oops. I scratched my head.