Murder So Magical: Witches of Keyhole Lake Mysteries

by Tegan Maher

  "Ronnie Dean's," she said. "He's closest. He lives—"

  "I know where he lives," Bobbie Sue said. "Lordy, he'll kill her. We gotta get there."

  We jumped in my truck since it would hold us all and were hot on her tail in less than a minute. Fortunately, Ronnie lived on a dirt road and Anna Mae drove a little sports car, so we made up some time because we didn’t have to be so careful about potholes. Still, when we pulled up in front of his house, Anna Mae was already in the front yard holding a Louisville Slugger and screamin' his name.

  Matt about broke his neck trying to climb out of the middle seat of the truck as she pulled the bat back and swung at the headlight of Ronnie's pride-and-joy, souped-up GMC pickup. The sound of smashing glass echoed through the air, followed by Anna Mae screeching at the top of her lungs, "Hey, Ronnie—you dirty, murderin' son of a bitch! Get out here!"

  Her face shone crimson in my headlights and her platinum bob swung wildly around her pixie face as the porch light came on. She drew the bat back over her head and shattered his windshield as Ronnie ran out on the porch bare-chested in his socks.

  She turned to face him with a perfect batter's stance. "That's right, big boy," she snarled, winding up for the swing. "Bring it on out here and let's see how you do when you ain't the one holdin' the bat."

  Ronnie, all six feet and two hundred pounds of him, charged her like a bull, but she feinted at the last second and brought the toe of her Jimmy Choos right up into his family jewels. He dropped to his knees like a sack of potatoes and she brought the bat down across his back.

  When she drew back for another swing and Matt grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back, she started spitting and screaming, struggling to get loose.

  "Shhh, now. You got him," he said. "He's going to jail. We're here."

  Ronnie'd managed to make it to his knees and was braced on his palms throwing up in the grass. Hunter nudged him with his toe. "Get up. You're under arrest for the murder of Erol Braxton."

  "Erol who?" he managed to grunt between heaves, which fired Anna Mae up all over again. She started kicking and arching backwards, trying to break Matt's hold on her. I prayed he didn't lose her because that girl had murder in her eyes.

  Cheri Lynn was floating beside me, grinning.

  "What's so funny?" I asked, thinking she'd lost her mind.

  She shrugged. "Aside from the fact she just put an ass-whoopin’ on Ronnie Dean? I was just rememberin' back to when that temper was aimed at me the day after Hank died. Matt better hang on tight."

  I smiled, too. Before she'd died, Cheri Lynn had a run-in with Anna Mae—a long story you can read about in another book—and Hunter and I had broken it up. I'd pulled Cheri Lynn off and Hunter had been in charge of Anna Mae. She got loose and took a swing at Cheri, who'd ducked, and I'd ended up with a shiner any prizefighter would have been proud of.

  Anna Mae was calming down, though Matt didn't trust her enough to unlock his hands from around her waist. Hunter was cuffing Ronnie Dean, who was still green around the gills. Now the only problem was what to do with him because my truck was full.

  Bobbie Sue motioned with her chin to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. "Toss him in the back," she told Hunter. "That's where most folks haul their pigs."

  He pushed Ronnie onto the tailgate then jumped into the bed and pulled out another set of zip cuffs from his jacket pocket. I idly wondered how many sets he carried as he tied Ronnie to my gooseneck ball.

  Once Erol was sure Ronnie wasn't getting loose, he floated over to him. "Count yourself lucky. At least you're leavin' with a body." He glanced toward the house. "And how dare you put my thousand-dollar patio set on your redneck, white-trash porch?"

  Hunter glanced toward the porch then at Erol after he swung the tailgate shut. "Are you serious? That's your stuff?"

  Our newest ghostly addition nodded and sniffed. "Sure it is. You don't think he has that kind of taste in decor do you?"

  I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing. One thing about Keyhole Lake: it was never boring.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  In the months since Hank had left the world a better place, Hunter had made some serious staff changes. He'd ferreted out those associated with Hank, those who wanted to grow up to be like Hank, and those who benefited from Hank in any way whatsoever. What that basically meant is that there were only two cops—Smitty and his partner—left who were there under Hank's reign, and those two were Peggy-Sue approved.

  Once Hunter had taken over and she'd no longer had to fear for her family's livelihoods, she pulled him to the side for a serious heart-to-heart and shared a list of names, dates, times, amounts, and witnesses, if any, that took up the better part of two legal note pads. She'd started it in case she ever needed leverage to protect herself or her family, but was delighted that it was one of the best tools in his bag when he sat down with the council and cleaned house.

  Unfortunately for some of the council members, Peggy Sue was nothing if not thorough and they ended up ousted, too.

  The point of all this is when Hunter called and gave the order for a team to go arrest Butch Davies, two ended up going instead of one because they came to a rock-paper-scissors draw, and neither one of them would step down and give the pleasure to the other.

  That arrest was a long time coming. Butch and Ronnie had been Hank's muscle, but nobody could actually prove anything that would get them more than thirty days in jail, until now.

  Hunter was worried that without a body or anybody to report Erol missing, he wouldn't be able to make anything stick, because all they had to do was back each other up. Our living-impaired community banded together and decided to stack the deck a little in honor of their newest member.

  Ronnie had been belligerent and mean—surprise, surprise—until Erol himself had swooped right into his face and told him to sit down and shut up. Ronnie wasn't exactly part of the in-crowd and didn't know about the ghosts, so when five of them, including the one he murdered, decided to keep him company on the way back to town, then in his cell, suffice it to say he was ready to confess by daybreak.

  Butch got the same treatment, though he held out a little longer.

  The straw that broke the camel's back was Addy's decision to sing to him all night. Loud sailor songs about dismemberment and death and boogy monsters. Remember those breeding cats I mentioned earlier? They're in perfect harmony compared to Addy. She broke him in less than thirty minutes. Of course, she had to call the rest of her buddies back to let them know, because none of them had been any more able to wait her out than Butch had.

  So, the next morning, we had two signed confessions and Erol had instructed us to remove his beloved patio set—and as it turned out, his dining set, his big-screen, and his Star Wars collection—from Ronnie's house. His silk sheets were there too, but we all agreed those could stay.

  We decided to figure out where to put most of his belongings later, but he wanted the big-screen in the shop so he could watch the cooking channels and some of the reality shows. I was willing to live with that.

  The next morning, I had to be to Bobbie Sue's by nine for the home visit, and I had to drop of a few boxes of fresh goodies to Rae at Brew. Things hadn't really slowed down at the shop, but the pace had become a little more consistent now that the tourists were gone and summer was over. We'd enjoy having the town mostly to ourselves until spring, and after the summer we'd had, we were more than ready for it.

  It was a quarter of nine when I pulled into Bobbie Sue and Earl's and I admired her yard and house. It wasn't at all what most folks would expect. Earl had built her a three-thousand-square-foot log cabin, complete with a toy garage that wasn't much smaller than the house. The outside was beautiful: a big, wraparound porch with rocking chairs and big baskets of flowers dotting it all the way around.

  Janette's car wasn't there yet, which was exactly how I'd planned it. Unless I missed my guess, Bobbie Sue was a hot mess over the whole thing. Rae'd made her a coffee blen
ded with her relax herbs, and the way we figured it, that should put her about on par with an average person.

  I pecked on the front door then went on in. Sure enough, she was a maniac. She was worried the house wasn't clean enough when I would have eaten spaghetti off her floors without batting an eye. She'd dressed up for it, wearing her best jeans and a yellow blouse that I always told her she should wear more often because it looked so good on her.

  Poor Justin was dressed in his new school clothes—he'd gotten to stay home for the day—and Bobbie Sue mom-spitted his face three times in the span of five minutes.

  I handed her the coffee. "Drink this. Now," I told her, leading her to the kitchen.

  "I'm sorry, Noe. I'm just a little nervous." I looked around and I swear I could see myself in the toaster from clear across the room.

  "Well knock it off before you make yourself sick," I said. "And the next time you're a little nervous, feel free to come to the farm. I've never been able to get my toaster to shine like that."

  "Vinegar," she said with a sharp nod.

  Why was I not surprised? Vinegar was the answer to everything, but I could hardly call into question the advice of a woman whose toaster served double-time as a mirror.

  Janette showed up right on time and wasn't there more than twenty minutes. It would have only been five if Bobbie Sue wouldn't have forced a cup of coffee and some of my fresh pastries on her. The bottom line was that she wanted to see Justin for herself and make sure he was okay with the adoption. Once she saw he was happy and well taken care of, she was ready to rubber-stamp it.

  When she left, I gave them all three a hug, and Justin looked a little sad.

  "Why the clouds, brat? This is a sunshine-and-rainbows morning."

  "Yeah," he said, toeing a rock with his new sneaker. "I'm just gonna miss stayin’ with you and Shelby and the farm, is all."

  Bobbie Sue scrunched her forehead. "Why on earth are you going to miss them? Nothing's really changing other than the fact that you now have a permanent home and they can't intervene and bounce you around anymore."

  He looked up at her, hopeful. "Really? I'll still be able to stay at the farm, or at least visit?"

  "Course you will, sweetie," she said. "What, did you think now that you're legally one of us that things would change? That's silly. All we did today was put on paper what's already been the case since we first met. Ain't that right, Noe?"

  "Absolutely," I said. "Remember we talked about that the other night? I mean, you need to listen to what Bobbie Sue and Earl say, and if you're grounded, don't run to me. This is your home now, and you're always welcome at the farm, too. Just remember this isn't a divorce situation where we have good versus evil trying to outspend and outmaneuver each other."

  "Oh, he said, "then I'm pleased as punch! I went from havin' no house to havin' two, and a coupla jobs to boot!"

  I laughed; when I'd busted him stealing wallets to survive, he'd told Raeann and me he would have found a job, but nobody would hire him. The little man was comin' up in the world and I was glad to help him do it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I'd had a rough few days and decided to stop at Brew and grab another Lively Latte on my way home. I'd tried to talk Rae into taking the day off, but she wouldn't have it. She said hiding would make her look guilty and Brew was her place, so she'd go there if she wanted. If it ran off customers, then so be it.

  We should have known that wouldn't be the case; the place was packed with folks trying to get a firsthand telling of the story. Angel told me Raeann was in the office doing paperwork—probably code for taking a break from all the questions—and a line had formed. I jumped behind the counter and started making coffees as she called out the orders.

  When I was cleaning the coffee area after we cleared the line, I was lost in thought about the whole Olivia thing. It wasn't until she nudged me that I realized Angel was standing beside me, just waiting to grab my attention.

  "Hey Ang, what's up?" She was working her lip between her teeth.

  "I don't know if this is relevant or not, but I saw one of those women that don't like y'all—the friends of the one they're sayin' Raeann kilt—comin' toward the store when I was leavin'." Her eyes welled up. "Oh, if I'da just waited for Raeann, none of this woulda happened."

  I scowled at her. "Don't you dare go feelin' bad. Your mama was hurt, and nobody expected anything less than for you to go to her. We'll figure this mess out."

  She snuffled. "Well, that's what I was sayin'. I didn't give it much thought until this mornin' because I was in such a rush, and there were other people on the sidewalk. But it was definitely one of their crowd." She shuddered. "They're horrible people, you know that, right?"

  I gave her a wry look. "I'm aware. I've known them since school. But we already know Olivia was here."

  Angel shook her head. "Not her. I didn't even see her. And not the dead girl, either. One of the blonde ones with big boobs. They never bothered to introduce themselves, so I don't know one from the other."

  That didn't narrow it down much because that described both Angelica and Bunny. "Could you tell which one if we showed you a picture?"

  She shook her head. "She was wearing a blue crocheted beret and had on big sunglasses and a matching scarf. No way could I pick one from the other, plus it was only a quick glance. I was thinkin' about Mama."

  She had me at blue crocheted beret, since Katie'd been holding one in her hands.

  "Angel, you have no idea how helpful that is."

  She pressed her lips together. "I don't know how, since I don't know which one it was, and I can't prove she even came in the store, but I figured you may be able to do something about it."

  "Did you tell the sheriff this?" I asked.

  She shook her head, and adjusted her apron. "Not yet. I have to go in after work and talk to him since I wasn't around yesterday. I'll tell him then. He stopped earlier to grab a coffee, but we were slammed. Rae talked to him and signed something."

  "Good deal. So how's your mama?" We leaned against the counter and chatted about her mom for a minute, then I poked my head into Rae's office.

  She was chewing on a pen cap and studying her laptop. A yellow legal pad lay to her left, and she was taking notes as she scrolled through whatever she was looking at.

  "Hey! What's up?" I said.

  She startled when I pecked on the frame, but smiled.

  "Believe it or not, I'm fryin' my brain over new coffee mugs, trying to decide if I'm buyin' the expensive ones I like or the serviceable ones I can afford."

  "Ha! Hashtag coffeedilemma. Don't people steal the mugs you have now?"

  "Yeah. That's why I'm buying new ones."

  I raised my brows. "Wouldn't it just be easier, and probably cheaper, to switch solely to disposable ones?"

  "Yeah, but the real ones give the place a touch of home. Class it up a little."

  "I reckon. So do you think I'm wrong about the whole Olivia thing?"

  She switched the pen cap to the other side of her mouth. "I don't know, sweetie. Your gut was tellin' you last night she didn't do it, but we're talkin' about Olivia here. I mean, I know you sound tough, but when it comes down to brass tacks, would you protect her just because you don't wanna believe she's that dirty? Especially since she didn't hurt you?"

  I pulled in a deep breath and let it out. "I don't know. I just ... she's stupid and foul and mean, but would she really try to kill me?" In the light of day, that sounded naive even to my ears.

  She puckered her mouth and pushed her lips to the side. "You were there and it's your gut. Just make sure you're listenin' to it and not your heart."

  I scowled at her. "I have no heart when it comes to her. She's a heifer."

  She threw the pen cap at me. "You have a heart when it comes to everybody, babydoll, just like me. You're just better at playin' tough than I am."

  I snorted. "Whatever."

  Moving around to look at the cups over her shoulder, I let out a low whist
le, then flicked my wrist to pull a chair forward from the far corner so I could plop down beside her. "Dang, Rae, those are cute, but you're right. They're pricey. All for somebody to steal them?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, if I think about how many cups of coffee I have to sell to pay for one before somebody walks off with it, it's not that bad."

  After clicking through a couple more pages, she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

  "What am I gonna do, Noe? Hunter said this morning my preliminary hearing was gonna be next week and that the judge may revoke bond. They're keepin' a close eye on us down here since the whole Hank thing. He said he's talked to everybody around, and no one saw anybody enter or leave. Right now, I'm the only suspect, and they found me literally over the body holdin' the murder weapon."

  "So it was the scarf?"

  She nodded. "Yup. The fibers were in her skin. They said from the looks of it, somebody got her from behind and pulled it tight."

  I shuddered. There was no love lost between us, but I wouldn't have wished that on her. I wondered for the hundredth time since my call last night if Olivia really had tried to kill me to get revenge.

  I squeezed her shoulder. "We’ll figure it out, sweetie. Don't borrow trouble."

  She hmphed. "I don't need to borrow any. Seems I got plenty already."

  "Well, we still got a few days. Hunter's good. And I've got your back, too." I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.

  Angel cleared her throat, then leaned on the doorframe. "Y'all, the weirdest thing just happened."

  She glanced back out front, then around the store, her eyebrows drawn in. "Some chick just came in and ordered a latte, and while I was making it, she asked about you two. Like, she knew you owned the place, Rae. And she seemed to be makin' polite conversation, but she was diggin' for information."

  "She probably just heard about the murder and was bein' nosy," I said.

  She pinched her lips and shook her head. "No. No, it wasn't like that. She actually asked more about you than she did Rae. Said she'd heard you'd almost been in an accident last night—which, by the way," she said, glaring at me, "I knew nothing about until she said it. And she asked about Olivia's character."