Makeovers and Murder

by Tegan Maher

  She raised a brow. "Oh, if I'd have known you were bringin' such good news, I'd have baked a cake. The world's a little better place. Who did it?"

  When neither of us said anything, realization settled on her face. "You think I did." It was a statement, not a question.

  Hunter shook his head. "Not yet I don't. That's what I'm here to ask you about."

  She barked out a dry laugh. "If that don't beat all. The woman can't even die without causing me heartache." She drew herself up and looked him straight in the eye. "No, Sheriff, I didn't kill her. If I were gonna do it, it would have been back when she was raking me over the coals, taking every penny I worked my tail off for."

  Mrs. Ball came from the kitchen carrying a tray with coffee, creamer, and sugar, still muttering under her breath. I gave a small smile. She may not be happy we were there, but she wasn't going to let that get in the way of manners. She set the tray on the oak coffee table, and motioned toward it. "I don't know how you take it, but have a cup. It's cold outside."

  I bent down and poured a dollop of cream into two cups, then added a teaspoon of sugar to mine. I handed Hunter a cup, and he took it, nodding his thanks to the elderly woman as she shuffled back into the kitchen.

  Genevieve sighed and motioned toward the sofa. "You may as well have a seat. No need to stand while you ask your questions."

  She reached for the third cup, pouring just a bit of cream into it before picking it up and taking a seat in an armchair. Hunter and I took a seat on the edge of the sofa.

  "How was she killed, if you don't mind me askin'?" she said, blowing on the top of her coffee before taking a sip.

  "Stabbed," he replied. "In the back with a pair of barber's scissors."

  A faint smile curled her lips and she nodded. "That's fitting." For the first time, she directed her attention to me. "You don't honestly think Coralee did it, do you?"

  I shook my head. "No, I don't. And to be honest, there were a lot of people who had way more reason to do it than she did."

  "I agree," she said. "If Coralee was gonna murder somebody, you can bet she'd want them to see it comin'. She wouldn't be so sneaky as to stab them in the back."

  I hadn't really thought of it that way, but she was right.

  "When was the last time you saw Loretta?" I asked.

  She pinched her lips together and thought for a couple seconds. "Back at the end of the trial. She was gloatin' on the courthouse steps about how justice had been done."

  "How did the whole business with the fajita plate go down?" I asked. That seemed way to random to have been coincidence.

  She raised her brows. "Sheer, dumb, bad luck. I was short-handed that night, so I was fillin' in the gaps myself, waitressin', runnin' food—just doin' whatever needed done. I ran the food to her table. I about dropped the plates when I realized who it was, and she looked as shocked as I felt. Then she got this nasty look on her face, and before I could give her the standard idiot warning that the skillet was hot, she went and stuck her thumb on it. Next thing I know, the court served me with papers, and it all went downhill from there."

  "So you think she did it on purpose, once she realized who you were?"

  She pursed her lips and pushed them to one side for a couple seconds. "You know, I've asked myself that question a hundred times. I think she thought I was a server and her goal was to get me fired. When she found out I owned the place, she saw her chance. The woman has hated me since school."

  Hunter took a sip of his coffee and nodded. "We've heard that. You had a rocky relationship back in high school."

  She tilted her head and drew her brows together. "We did," she said, "but that was twenty-five years ago. Kid stuff. And to be honest, she was the one who took the brunt end of that, not me. I won, and she didn't like it. Even if it were the other way around, I'd hardly call losing the prom queen election would be cause for murder."

  Hunter cocked his brow. "You'd be surprised."

  "Maybe so," she replied, "but it's not exactly somethin' you wait two and a half decades to avenge."

  "No," he agreed, "but it's not even been a year since she caused you to lose everything, and that is within a reasonable window for murder."

  She scowled at him and set her cup down. "I think I've said all I'm willing to without a lawyer."

  Hunter dipped his head. "That's fine."

  He may have been bound by the constructs of law, but I wasn't.

  "Where were you three nights ago from four til six?"

  "Not that I have to answer that since I've already asked for a lawyer, but I was right here." She huffed a breath out through her nose and motioned around the room. "Right where I always am. In this room, in this house, on this farm." Bitterness tinged her voice, and despite the fact she had a ton of motive, I didn't want to believe she was a killer. My BS meter stayed silent, and my shoulders sagged. She was telling the truth.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  "WHAT DO YOU THINK?" Hunter asked when we were back in the truck.

  I shrugged. "I don't think she did it."

  "I don't either." He sighed as he turned the truck around and eased his way out of the muddy yard. "But somebody did, and we're running out of time."

  "Surely with all this evidence, the judge will see that Coralee isn't the only one, or even the most likely one, to have done it."

  He shook his head. "I doubt it. Look at the facts. What do we really have besides a bunch of people who didn't like her? We have plenty of motive, but no evidence."

  "Yeah," I said, "But Genevieve's alibi is shaky, and Leighann doesn't even have one."

  I can put it out there, but Leighann's size is gonna clear her. Her DMV records show she owns a newer model VW bug. There's no way she could have lugged Loretta's body into the trunk of a such a compact car—or even the back seat—by herself. That kind of dead weight flopping around would have required two people her size."

  That was a point I couldn't argue. Plus, she hadn't been lying when she said she didn't kill her. My meter said she hadn't been telling the whole truth, but that could have just been nerves coloring her tone.

  "So what about the other people she ran out of business?"

  "Nope," he said. "They live on the other side of Atlanta, and both of them had air-tight alibis for that whole day."

  "What about the husband?" I asked. "Where's he been? Why hasn't he been down here breathing down your neck to find who did this to his lovely, beloved wife?"

  "Apparently he's on a business trip in Europe and couldn't get a flight back until today," he replied, turning onto the main road. "Some kind of extradition for a client."

  I adjusted my seatbelt. "I wish we would have asked Leighann or Delilah what sort of relationship they had."

  "According to Priscilla, they were two peas in a pod and had a great marriage. She was the perfect wife, and he was the perfect husband."

  "That's weird, right? I mean, no relationship is perfect."

  He shrugged. "I don't know. People say you and I are like that." He glanced at me and smiled. "And I agree."

  "Yeah, but we've had our share of rough patches. Everybody close to us knows that."

  "But," he replied, holding up a finger, "would anybody repeat that if something were to happen to me? Or even to you?"

  He had a point. The people who cared about us would never air our dirty laundry like that or say anything else that may incriminating.

  "No. If you hurt me, my family would see justice done," I said, smiling.

  He shuddered. "And that right there is enough to keep me on the straight and narrow." He smiled. Those two women are terrifying on the best of days. I can't imagine being on their bad sides, especially if they thought I'd hurt you."

  My stomach rumbled. "I'm starving. I didn't eat anything this morning. How about we swing by the Starlite and grab a bite?"

  He nodded. "That'll work. And now that you've mentioned the husband, I'd like to talk to Delilah again, but they're in meetings right now. She didn't have any
qualms about spilling the truth, and I have no doubt she knows all about the relationship. She strikes me as a woman who'd make a point of knowing all about her competition."

  "Something else is bugging me, too," I said. "There are plenty of commercial real estate firms in Atlanta. Why didn't Loretta pass those sales to them instead of to Priscilla? She doesn't exactly seem like the type to value friendship over business, and building goodwill with other firms would have been way more beneficial to her. If nothing else, it would have boosted her ego."

  "I wondered the same thing," he said. "But she was getting a cut under the table from Priscilla. She wouldn't have gotten that from the other firms, and if we've learned anything about her, it was that she loved her money."

  He flipped the blinker on to pull into the parking lot. I was fresh out of ideas, so I just nodded. My head hurt and my brain felt like mush from hashing through the same thoughts over and over, and I figured it would be a good idea to give it a rest while we ate.

  "Hey, ya'll," a familiar voice said from behind. Cheri Lynn was floating along beside us, her boyfriend Rupert trailing behind. "Have you figured out who murdered that Loretta woman yet?"

  I shook my head. "Nope, sure haven't. We have several suspects, but we can't quite make any of them fit."

  "Do you have enough to keep Coralee out of jail?" she asked.

  Hunter pulled in a deep breath and released it. "I don't know. We do have other suspects to offer, but I don't know if the evidence is going to be strong enough to convince him to put off the arrest."

  "Well," she said, "I have faith."

  "Not to put too fine a point on it," Rupert said, "but it's going to take more than faith. I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, Sheriff, but have you broken it down into categories? Love, money, or pride. Ninety-nine percent of murders are motivated by one of those three things."

  I'd always heard love, money, or revenge, but I guess pride threw a wider net and was probably more accurate.

  "Unfortunately, all of our suspects fall into one of those three categories," Hunter told him. "The problem is, they all have strong motive. None of them really stand out."

  Rupert hummed. "Maybe not, but one of them had the added benefit of opportunity. It seems likely this was a crime of passion. The women all seem to be good people who the murdered woman forced into bad situations. What stands out to me, is why would they kill her now?"

  "You've given this some thought, haven't you?" I asked. He'd never shown much interest in anything other than Cheri Lynn. Most of the time, he was out gallivanting and enjoying his post-living life.

  "I have," he agreed. "Cheri Lynn is so worked up over it that she won't leave the area, and I hate to see her unhappy. Plus, my friends are in Hawaii right now, haunting a surfing competition. One of them died when a shark attacked him, and he's worried it'll happen to somebody else. We usually go party it up and help him keep an eye out for anything like that."

  "What can you really do about it if a shark does pop up?" I asked.

  "Fortunately, we've never had occasion to find out, and I hope we never do. I think his main concern is for lone surfers. He was out practicing by himself, and would likely have lived had somebody else been there to help."

  "So you want us to wrap this up so Cheri Lynn will be free to leave town?" It wasn't that he was a bad guy—just the opposite. It's just that he didn't have much interest in what was going on in the living world because he no longer had any attachments to it.

  He gave me the duh look. "Of course. Why else would I care that some nasty bat went and got herself killed? Unless, of course, she was haunting us and solving the murder would get rid of her." He shuddered. "I've experienced that, and it's not pleasant."

  He turned to Cheri Lynn. "See honey? Everything's on hold right now. Let's sneak over and see what's going on at the competition."

  I felt bad at the conflicted look on her face. She hadn't had a chance to do any living at all when she was actually alive, and she had a good time globe trotting with Rupert. I waved her off. "Go on," I said. "If anything breaks, I'll call you." Somehow, no matter where she was, all we had to do was call her name and she heard. Indecision turned to relief.

  "You promise? You'll call me if there's any change at all?"

  I held up my right hand. "I promise. Go. Have fun."

  "Okay," she said, taking Rupert's hand as they faded out. "But find whoever did this, please. I don't want to have to visit Coralee in prison. That would be awful."

  I couldn't have agreed more, and I gave her a thumbs up as she disappeared.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  WE HADN'T EVEN MADE it through the front doors before the scents of bacon and coffee surrounded us. Once inside, the warmth and camaraderie was palpable. Jeanie, one half of the dynamic couple that owned the diner, smiled at us from behind the counter, a coffee pot in one hand and a plate of steaming biscuits in the other.

  "Have a seat wherever you want," she said. "Coffee or tea?"

  "Coffee for me," I said, "And a glass of OJ."

  Hunter held up two fingers to let her know that's what he wanted, too.

  "And your breakfast regulars?" she called over her shoulder.

  I glanced at Hunter and he nodded. "That'll work," I told her. I'd been going to the diner my entire life. Jeanie and her husband Ray had inherited the place from his parents, and very little had changed in the fifty years or so since they first opened it.

  We took a seat at our favorite booth, and I swiped a few crumbs off the white speckled Formica table. There were even more people in the place than the cars in the lot indicated, and upon closer inspection, I realized many of them were people I recognized from the realtor's convention.

  "Excuse me," I said in the direction of four women sitting at the table nearest us.

  The one sitting nearest us looked up, her expression a little irritated. "Yes?" she said, her tone bored and a little condescending. She raised a sculpted brow.

  "I was just wondering—I notice you all are from the convention. I thought it ran through this afternoon."

  "It does," she replied, "but Delilah Merryweather is teaching the final two classes, and they target newer realtors. There's nothing to be gained by sitting through them if you already know the basics. It's why they're last. The rest of us have business to attend to."

  That was a bit of a relief, anyway. At least we had time to eat before we had to worry about Delilah leaving. Considering Leighann was new, she was likely still there too. I asked just in case, and the woman shook her head. "It's not my concern what she does, but yes. When I was leaving, she was heading toward the conference room."

  Jeanie dropped off our coffee and juice as the woman turned her attention away from us. "Your food will be right out, sugar. Give me a minute, and I'll pop back over for a proper hello." Jeanie and I had become closer since her daughter, Becki, and Shelby had become close friends. Becki was the third leg of their girl group, but had been busy lately helping out at the diner. She was trying to save up enough money to buy a car before college, and Jeanie and Ray had promised to match whatever she raised. Therefore, in her mind, the more she made, the cooler car she could buy.

  Honestly, with all the weird stuff going on in the magical world right then, I was glad she didn't have much time to hang out. It was hard enough worrying about Emma and Shelby, and they had full use of some pretty powerful magic.

  Within a few minutes, Jeanie returned with our breakfasts and slid into the booth beside me. "So what's going on with Coralee?" she asked, not beating around the bush. She asked out of concern though, not nosiness, so I didn't mind filling her in. She rubbed her chin, thinking.

  "I think they were in for supper night before last."

  "Who? Loretta and Priscilla?" Hunter asked, scooping a bite of egg onto his toast.

  "No," Jeanie said, waving a hand. "Delilah and Leighann. Delilah, I know for certain because I noticed her name on the credit card. But the girl who was with her was an itty-bitty thing,
and much younger. She matches the description, but I can't say for sure because Delilah never called her by name."

  "They were here with a group, or by themselves?" I asked around a mouthful of pancakes.

  "By themselves," she replied. "The younger girl—Leighann I guess—was pretty shaken up about something when they first got here, and she only picked at her food. I didn't get a chance to do any good eavesdropping though. We were busy."

  My thoughts whirred as a possible scenario clicked into place. Leighann had killed her and Delilah had somehow figured it out. Maybe Leighann freaked out and told her, or maybe Delilah walked in on it. I wasn't sure how it went down because Delilah had an airtight alibi. I said as much.

  "But Leighann doesn't," Hunter reminded me. "And I don't think she'd have had much problem pulling the body out of a trunk by herself. It would have been getting it in that was the problem. Maybe Delilah helped her get the body into the trunk. That's not our biggest issue, though."

  I put my fork down. "What is, then?"

  "We have zero proof. It's not like we have traffic cams like they do in the city. And nobody saw anything suspicious. I don't even have enough evidence to get a warrant for their vehicles. No judge in his right mind would issue one just because two women attending the same conference had dinner together. For all we know, Leighann was nervous about some big property she'd landed, or her mother's medical bills."

  "What about their hotel rooms?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "Again, no warrant, and as long as they're in there and paid up, we'd need one.

  My shoulders slumped as disappointment washed over me. He was right—and Delilah had passed my BS meter with flying colors. Maybe it was just as simple as that, and Leighann wasn't guilty of anything besides working too hard.

  "Still," I said, "Don't you think it's worth asking them about?"

  "Oh, we're definitely questioning them," he said. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up."

  That ship had already sailed, though. We had our first real lead, and it felt right in my gut. I had every intention of getting to the bottom of it, and hopefully getting her in cuffs before the judge had a chance to make the decision for us.