Murder and Marinade: Witches of Keyhole Lake Mysteries Book 5

by Tegan Maher

  "Yeah," I said, "that's him. She looked angry. At one point, she put her finger in his face."

  Turning his gaze to me, he said, "You saw this? Did any of you hear what they were talking about?"

  Oh, crap.

  Hunter and I looked at each other. We could hardly say my donkey reported back. That meant we either had to lie or leave the information out. I sighed. I wasn't comfortable fudging the truth and I didn't want to put Hunter in that position, either.

  "No. We didn't."

  Sheriff Scottsdale took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and shoved it back on. "I sure wish you would have. That would have tied up some loose ends." He glanced at Hunter. "That woman is one of the least pleasant people I've ever dealt with, and to be honest, she's showin' up a bit too much for my liking. You can only have so many coincidences."

  "You know we found all the meat and the beans that were stolen from Earl's and Jimbo's trailers, right?" I asked.

  "What meat?" It was obvious from the look on his face that he had no idea what I was talking about, so I filled him in.

  He scratched his jaw, thinking. "So why didn't anybody report this?"

  "They did," Hunter said. "To the barbecue committee. It wasn't that much in quantity, but it did disqualify them from competing."

  "I don't know where to put all that. We have a dead judge that was supposedly selling the recipes and taking bribes, but we can't prove it. Then we have two guys who supposedly bought recipes that belonged to two men here, whose food was stolen. Then we have a bitchy fair president, who y'all say was talkin' to one of the thieves last night. We're missin' the denominator that ties ’em all together."

  I bit my tongue to keep from telling him about the conversation, but I couldn't back it up and I couldn't lie. Ugh. I wished the rest of the world would hurry up and catch up to us magical folks. But no—you always had the extremists who'd either want to study us or burn us at the stake. Which, completely off topic, is cruel and unusual punishment.

  We'd just have to find a way to prove it without calling the sixteenth-century noble ass to the stand.

  People were starting to trickle into my booth, so I excused myself. I was a little surprised that people were showing for the last day considering it was a Monday, but we did enough in business that by the time late morning rolled around, I'd sold pretty much everything we had. Even Anna Mae's jewelry case, which had been stuffed full, was getting bare.

  Hunter pointed to the vanity. "What's up with that?"

  "Oh," I said. "TJ liked it and considered buying it, but you know they don't have a ton of money right now. I thought we could drop it off to her on the way home as a birthday gift. She's turning the big four-oh next week.”

  When I'd first met her, my first thought was that she'd been around my age—late twenties—or maybe a little older. But then we found out she was a witch. She'd just always thought it was due to good genetics and the high-dollar creams she slathered on morning and night.

  Turns out she was half right. Some witches are gifted—or cursed—with longevity, but not all of us. Personally, I was glad the Flynn witches weren't. I'd hate to watch all the people I care about get old and die while I stayed young and healthy.

  However, TJ was one of those who was blessed with it, and she seemed perfectly happy.

  Hunter looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "No way is she forty!"

  I nodded. "She sure is. And Moira's a couple years older than her."

  He shook his head. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to everything that comes with magic."

  Pushing up to my tiptoes, I gave him a kiss on the chin. "You're doing great so far, sweetie. Ghosts, witches, werewolves ... even angels. And you've taken it all in stride."

  He arched a brow at me, and I knew he was thinking back to the minor meltdown he'd had when he found out I was a witch. "That doesn't count," I said. "It was the first clue you had. And even then, you still asked me out. And here we are!"

  Since we were down to practically nothing in the booth, I decided I was done. There were fireworks going off in the distance, and I wanted to go up and chill out with Bobbie Sue and the rest of the gang. They were having their closing celebration, and the smell of wood smoke and cooking meat made my stomach growl.

  "Should we load the rest of this stuff up now, or do you want to wait ’til we get back?" Hunter asked, motioning to what little was left.

  I waved a hand at it. "Leave it. It's not going anywhere." I made sure the wards were set and my card was still taped to the stools and we left. "You coming, Max?"

  "Of course I'm coming," he said, climbing to his feet and giving a whole-body shake. "I'm starving. I hope they have other foods than what we've been eating. I didn't think I'd ever hear myself say this, but I'm sick of candy and barbecue."

  I raised my eyes, casting a surprised look in his direction. "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that either. What about Glenlivet?"

  He snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

  Laughing, I said, "Then c'mon, faithful sidekick. Let's follow our noses and hope for variety."

  Hunter swung his arm around my shoulders and Max fell into step beside us, trotting to catch up.

  "You know," Hunter said, eyes filled with humor, "this hasn't been as relaxing as I thought it would be."

  I snorted. "Really? I thought finding a dead body was the goal of every vacation. Can't think of anything I'd rather do in the morning. Or in the afternoon for that matter."

  "Hmph. Nobody likes a smartass, Noe." He gave my shoulders a squeeze. "Seriously though, with everything that's gone on, we haven't even taken the bikes off the trailer. I figured for sure we'd get at least some seat time in."

  "Yeah, me too," I said as the noise of the end-of-competition party grew louder. "Maybe we'll take another weekend trip like we did when we first got together. That little cabin was awesome. And now I have my own bike."

  It was his turn to snort. "Yeah, it was great right up to the point where Max popped in and commanded us to go find his body." Max, as in Max of Wheeler Construction had been murdered, and took matters into his own hands by hunting us down to report it himself, post-life. It was the first time Hunter met a ghost and it was a bit jarring for him.

  "Okay, up to that point, then," I said. "Plus, it turned out okay."

  He hummed in sort-of agreement, and I wondered what my life looked like from his perspective. Crazy, no doubt.

  All the food trucks were closed and empty as we strolled up the aisle between them. The grass had been trampled to dirt, but besides that, it was hard to imagine that just a few hours before, the place had been packed with people.

  I was looking straight ahead and thinking about a thick burger when I caught a flash of color out of the corner of my eye. I whipped my head around to see what it was, and laughed. A canary-yellow poster-board menu written was taped to a truck a couple aisles over, and it must have flapped a little in the breeze.

  "What's so funny?" he asked, peering in that direction.

  "Murderous menus," I said, shaking my head and taking a deep breath. "Man, I'm glad this weekend is almost over."

  "You and me both, sweetie. You and me both."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  JUSTIN RAN UP TO US, Billy close on his heels when we got to the their truck. I was glad he'd found a friend to play with and wondered if they'd ever see each other again. For some reason, I had a strong feeling they would.

  I was surprised to see Serena at the truck, helping Bobbie Sue pack up and tear down the equipment. She smiled when she saw my expression. "I may not run a food truck, cher, but I do my share of movin'. I know the process."

  "And I'm grateful for that. Earl's good about helpin', but he has a habit of just shovin' stuff any which place. Plus, ain't no reason for her to sit over there all by her lonesome when we got all the action over here." Bobbie Sue said.

  I looked toward the giant pavilion where we'd had the kick-off party. Several of the barbecues were in use, which s
eemed odd considering we had about a million grills around us. I realized Susie Q was all tied down and ready to hitch to the truck, and did kind of a mental forehead slap.

  Four tables up front groaned under the weight of food. I could make out pie-plates and sure hoped some of them contained actual pies. And some deviled eggs. My stomach growled and Serena laughed. "Girl, I don't know how you're not the size of a house."

  I grinned. "Fast metabolism. For the most part," I added, smacking my rounded hip. "And I'm grateful, at least for Hunter's sake."

  "Speaking of Earl, where is he?" he asked, avoiding that particular line of discussion.

  "Over there cookin'," Bobbie said. I scanned the crowd but it took me a few seconds to find him. Usually, his bear of a form was easy to spot, but this weekend, he was the norm rather than the exception. Huh. I wondered if there was some kind of genetic link between large males and grill skills.

  Bobbie Sue snapped the lock closed on the back doors of the truck, but before we walked away, I had a gut check and turned back to set the wards, and put one over Susie Q and the trailer, too. With the way the weekend had gone, there was no such thing as too much CYA. Serena noticed what I did and gave me a half-smile. "Good girl," she said, winking.

  Par for the course, there was a ton of food. Everybody had contributed, and I felt a little bad that we showed up empty-handed. Bobbie Sue gave me her mama-duck scowl when I said that. "Sugar, you're part of BSB, and we contributed plenty! Y'all get up there and get your bellies full and don't give that another thought."

  A band started tuning up and the festive atmosphere was infectious. We spent the afternoon chowing down and mingling, and we even met a few people who rode. Most of them were coming to the Fourth of July competition in Keyhole, so they said they'd bring their bikes so we could get some riding in.

  My phone jangled as I was mopping the last of the bean juice up with my final bite of burger; finally, the man who bought the chairs had shown up. Hunter went back and helped him load up so I could finish my pie, then returned, smiling, and handed me a fifty.

  "What's that for?" I asked, taking the bill from him.

  "He said it was a bonus for holding the stuff for him. Plus, he hadn't realized the table he bought was solid oak, and thought it was worth more than he paid. Nice man."

  Nice man indeed. I stuffed the money in my pocket and gave Hunter a quick peck. "Thanks for helping me all weekend."

  "You're welcome," he said, draping his arm around me and giving me a squeeze.

  The crowd murmured and we looked around to see what was going on. The band was on intermission, and Gregoria Stanton had climbed up onto the stage. She tapped on the mic. It was hot, and she cleared her throat.

  "First, let me say thank you to everybody who came together to make this year's competition a success."

  I looked at Hunter, shocked. "Did she really just say that?"

  "She sure did." He was watching her with disbelief as she continued.

  "I realize there were some ... bumps ... along the way, and that some competitors may not have had an ideal experience—"

  "And don't forget one of the judges didn't have such a dandy time, either," somebody to my right muttered to his wife.

  "But I've personally seen to those issues and you can rest assured they won't happen again. Thank you again, and safe travels to you all." She paused for a minute, and there was a delayed spattering of confused, half-hearted applause accompanied by a low rumble of hushed chatter.

  When it became clear she wasn't going to get the standing ovation she was expecting, she gave a tight smile and walked away from the microphone. Her paisley-yellow pants strained at the seams as she presented us with her backside when she clambered down from the stage and I thought for the tenth time that somebody really needed to give her a heads up on her fashion choices.

  "She sure is a strange old bird, ain't she?" Bobbie Sue asked, and I ignored the possible double entendre. "You reckon she killed the judge?"

  "I don't know," I said, "but she sure doesn't seem to be too upset at his passin'."

  Hunter was frowning. "That was disturbing."

  "I'll say," I replied. "I was afraid that seam was gonna bust and we were gonna get a full moon." I was shooting for levity, but the creep-out factor remained.

  We hung out for another couple hours, then decided to head out early so we could be home before dark. Even if we visited for an hour or so with TJ and Moira, I wanted to have time to look for Ranger. Shelby has assured me they'd scrubbed every square inch of acreage within a two-mile radius, but I wanted to do it myself, too.

  Serena pulled me into a big hug, then pushed me back to arms' length. "You take care of yourself, cher, you hear?" She slipped a card into my hand. "I don't know if I can help any, but if you need anything, call." Her eyes were serious. "Take the time to learn what you're capable of. A witch, especially one with your gifts, needs to know what she has. You know, to prevent world wars, or not. Whatever the Fates determine."

  I smiled and told her I would, though I had no idea how to go about it.

  We were packed up and pulling out in less than fifteen minutes, and I was glad to put the place behind me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  IT TOOK US A LITTLE over an hour to get to TJ and Moira's and we passed the first half of it talking about anything other than the murder. Errands we had to run, calls we had to make. His job as sheriff was usually low-key, especially that time of year.

  He had to settle disputes between little old ladies fighting over ugly lawn ornaments, talk tough to teenagers partying where they shouldn't be, and deal with the occasional drunk-and-disorderly, though most folks were good about mindin' their manners, at least once they left the bar. And when they got out of line in the bar, the bartenders usually handled it themselves and didn't bother calling in the law.

  Things were about to pick up because tourist season was coming up, but even then, he'd deal more with lost items and traffic-ticket disputes than anything else.

  And that's exactly how he liked it. He'd had a tough time of it in Indianapolis because of a bad love decision, and had taken a deputy job in Keyhole Lake because he wanted to get away from all that. Little did he know that within three months of taking the job, somebody would up and knock off the sheriff and he'd be left holding the bag.

  Though to be fair, it worked out well for the entire town, and we were lucky he showed up when he did. The entire town—especially Anna Mae and Cheri Lynn—had lived under Hank Dolittle's thumb, and the world was a better place without him. And on the flip, Keyhole was a better place with Hunter as sheriff. Complete one-eighty in a matter of months.

  Max slept like the dead in the backseat until we pulled up to TJ's, and even then, it took him a few minutes to come around and realize where we were. When he did though, his ears perked up and he began clamoring for me to open his door.

  "Gimme a minute," Hunter snapped when he repeated himself for the third time. "At least wait for the truck to come to a complete stop." Max started to say something else, but Hunter gave him the death start. He clamped his mouth shut, but kept staring out the window, practically vibrating. He adored the girls, probably because they spoiled him rotten the first time they met him, assuming he was a pet.

  Whatever the reason, he was making Hunter batty, so as soon as we stopped, I jumped out and opened the door for him. Max was relatively small for a mini donkey—smaller than a Great Dane—but he liked junk food enough that he was well over two hundred pounds. When he jumped out without waiting for help, he landed right on my foot.

  I howled, leaning against the truck and holding it, and if Hunter had been shooting him dirty looks before, the one he was giving him then would have melted plastic. For his part, Max muttered an apology, then something about how I should have been standing back, then trotted toward the front porch. I considered getting back in the truck and leaving him there, but we had to unload the vanity.

  Moira and TJ were standing on the porch
when we arrived looking confused.

  I smiled and waved. "You forgot something the other night when you left," I told TJ.

  She tilted her head. "I did?"

  "Yup." I unlocked the trailer and swung the door open, then stood back and used a couple of fingers to levitate the vanity up and out. "You forgot your vanity. Where do you want it?"

  She squealed and ran toward me, and I barely settled it on the ground before she flung her arms around me in a rare display of touchy-feelyness.

  "Happy birthday," I said, grinning and untangling myself. Poor Hunter was just standing back hoping to avoid the crush.

  "I would say you shouldn't have, but I'm glad you did!" She motioned toward the house. "Can you get it up the stairs?"

  I rolled my eyes, and so did Moira, who'd joined us at the trailer. "If three able-bodied witches and one strapping man can't get that upstairs, we may as well give it up now," she said.

  "Oh yeah, good point." TJ's cheeks pinked. She was still so new to being a witch that it wasn't second nature to her yet.

  "Then let's do this," I said. "Bedroom at the end of the hall, right?"

  "Yup," she said. "I'll run up and clear out a spot if y'all have this."

  "Go on," Moira said, shooing her. "It'll take a minute because we don't wanna rush and risk that finish."

  While she rushed upstairs, I lifted the piece up and told Moira, "If you wanna concentrate on keeping it stable, I'll move it." She nodded and we got it to the porch, where Hunter was holding the door wide open. He guided it through so that it didn't bump the frame.

  The stairs were a bit trickier because I didn't want to angle it for fear of putting too much pressure on the large oval mirror I'd attached to it, but we made it.

  When we got to the top landing, I let it settle so I could take a breather. It wasn't nearly as physically taxing or finger-crushing as it would have been to move it manually, but it still took effort.

  There were a few thuds and bumps coming from TJ's room as she cleared a space, but by the time we were ready to move it the rest of the way, she was ready. Hunter guided us it through the doorway—it was a tight fit—after she showed us where she wanted it. When it settled into place, she ran her hands over it. A rush of pride hit me as she did. It was one of my better efforts, and seeing how much she liked it made my heart smile.