Murder to the Max

by Tegan Maher

  Addy was floating beside her with a semi-sad ghost of a smile. "I'm happy to pass on the recipe. Besides," she said, covering her sentimentality up with gruffness, "it took me decades to perfect that recipe. It's my culinary responsibility to share it."

  Belle nodded. "Yup. That's how I feel about my hairstyles and tricks. I try to pass 'em on. Some Coralee uses and some she don't."

  Max popped in and poor Justin dropped his last bite of pancake in his lap. He shot him a dirty look. "It's a good thing I'm already full to burstin' or else that would have made me mad."

  Max mock scowled at him and reached out to tousle his hair. "And what exactly would you have done about it there, Mister Big-for-your-britches?"

  Justin shivered. "You know that feels really cold, right? It's like I just had a brain-freeze." He smiled to take the sting out before he stuck his face back in his video game.

  "So what did you do today, Max? I didn't see you all day, and we sort of had a change in your case."

  "You don't say? I spent some time with Louise and Jared while they were packing. I found out I'm going to be a grandpappy!" He frowned. "Or I guess, I would have been a grandpappy."

  I was completely out of my element and had no idea what to say. Thankfully, Addy and Belle did.

  "You're still going to be a grandpappy, no matter what side of the daisies you're on," Addy said.

  "Yeah," Belle added. "There's gonna be a little Max Wheeler—or Emily Wheeler, maybe—running around, passin' on your genes."

  Justin's gaze shot up from his game.

  "I don't mean to interrupt," he said, examining Max, "but did she say Max Wheeler? As in Maxwell P. Wheeler?"

  Max frowned. "Yeah. That's me. What about it?"

  "If you don't mind me askin', when did you ... you know, die?"

  Justin turned to me and whispered, "That's not like asking a lady how much she weighs, is it?"

  Before I could answer, Max laughed and filled in the blank for him. "I'm new to this whole ghost thing, but it didn't offend me."

  Surprise. It seemed like everything I did offended him.

  Addy shook her head. "Doesn't bother me, either."

  "Me either," Belle added, then glanced sideways at Max. "Might not be polite to ask how somebody bought it, though."

  Max waved her off. "Let the boy talk. I was killed this past Sunday, far as I can remember, right?" He turned to me for confirmation and I nodded.

  With everybody's attention on him waiting for him to talk, you'd have thought the kid had ants in his pants. "It's just ... I sorta picked a guy's pocket a couple days ago and he had credit cards with your name on it and lots of cash. Plus your ID. Before all this happened, I was trying to find a way to talk to the sheriff about it, but was afraid I'd get in trouble." He glanced at me. "That's what I was trying to tell you at the barbecue."

  "Did Max have his wallet on him when you guys found his ... him?" Shelby asked.

  I shook my head. "Hunter said it was missing. That' why it was such a big deal that Larry had that much cash."

  "I have it upstairs," Justin said. "I usually drop 'em in that blue mailbox by the courthouse, hoping they'll get turned in and back to the folks who own them. That one, though ... well, like I said, I was tryin' to work up the nerve to talk to him."

  "You've been making Ben Osweiller's day. He's the mailman, and now he looks forward to opening that box just to see what's in it next." I shook my head. "That's one mystery solved, anyway. Ben's gonna be so disappointed." I gave him the stink eye. "But we're not going to keep picking pockets to entertain him though, are we?"

  "No, we're not, Scout's honor."

  "Were you ever a Scout?"

  "Yeah, actually—"

  "Forget the dad-gummed Boy Scouts. Do you remember what the guy looked like?" Max asked steering the conversation back to the wallet.

  "Yeah, well, sorta. I mean, he was just a bump-and-grab. He was old, but not as old as you. Maybe a little older than the sheriff. Dark hair, kinda average weight."

  "How tall? Long hair? Short?"

  He shrugged. "I dunno how tall. And I don't remember his hair much. I was paying more attention to his pocket. It wasn't crazy long, though. If it helps any, I think I'd recognize him if I saw him. I'll go up and get the wallet now."

  That wasn't much, but it was more than we'd had twenty minutes ago.

  He left the table and went upstairs. A couple minutes later, he came pounding back down and handed me a worn black nylon wallet bulging with cash.

  I opened it up and whistled. There was at least a few grand in it—the bills were almost all hundreds.

  "Max, is this your wallet?" I glanced up and he was flickering so much that it was almost like he was shorting out, then he looked at his watch and made his now-familiar exit.

  That was the first time Addy'd seen him blink out and she looked at Belle, then rubbed her chin, lost in thought.

  I pulled out my phone and texted Hunter. Rather than text me back, he called fifteen seconds after I hit send.

  I put him on speaker and gave him the general run-down of what we'd found.

  "Have any of you touched anything inside the wallet?"

  I glanced at Justin, who shook his head. "Nope."

  "Okay. I'll be out in twenty minutes or so to get it. Have y'all eaten? I'm starved."

  We glanced at the three pancakes left on the plate and I felt a little guilty. Not so guilty that I regretted eating four of them, but a little guilty. "Yeah. Shelby made pancakes. There are a few left if you want."

  "Sounds great. See ya in a bit."

  Once he arrived, he put on a pair of gloves and opened the wallet up. There was no doubt it was Max's; his license was inserted in one of the plastic windows and his face smiled up at us as soon as he opened it. He started with the bills and I didn't think he was ever going to make it through the stack. Turns out, there was just a little under nine grand in it. He started to pull the credit cards out but changed his mind.

  "In case there's a random print, I don't want to smear it. I'll leave those for Jim."

  He put it all into an evidence bag and sealed it while I warmed up the pancakes for him.

  He took one bite and his eyes about rolled back in his head. "I feel bad eating the last three. You all sure you got your bellies full?"

  "Oh, yeah, I had two. I'm good," I said.

  Shelby snorted. "Two at a time! Don't let her lie to you. We plowed through a stack of those suckers this high." She opened her hands to what looked like about a foot.

  "It wasn't that high," I said.

  He looked at Justin, who sold me out without an ounce of shame or remorse. "It was totally that high, man."

  Brat. He was officially a part of the family.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  I woke up early the next morning and made several batches of pastries and muffins, then decided that since Shelby cooked supper, I'd feed by myself so she could sleep in. I left Justin a note and headed to the barn, coffee cup in hand.

  We'd called Emily the night before to tell her about the wallet. She verified that all of the credit cards were his.

  "It just makes me so angry that somebody killed him for a few measly bucks." She’d said, crying. “I’d have given it to them if they’d have spared him.”

  "Well, if it helps, Justin says he can identify the guy if he sees him, and there are still some loose ends, so the fat lady ain't ready to sing just yet. We can't bring him back, but we can put the person who killed him under the jail."

  "I hope so," she'd said, her voice miserable as we disconnected.

  Those words were still echoing in my head as I walked to the barn.

  I set my coffee cup on the ledge and set to work feeding. We had a well-established system: by the time I fed the last horse, the first horses were done and ready to turn out into the pastures. Thankfully right now we had plenty of good grass, so I didn't need to give them hay during the day.

  After I turned the last horse out, I set to work cl
eaning the stalls. The night before, I'd set a ward around the property that alerted whenever somebody crossed into the immediate barn or yard areas. I was starting to get the heebie-jeebies thinking about somebody just strolling onto the property, pretty as you please, whenever they wanted.

  As I dumped the wheelbarrow in the manure pile, the alarm went off in my head and movement flashed out of my peripheral vision. I snapped my head that direction.

  I stood stock-still, my gaze roaming over the property for the slightest hint of movement. Just when I thought it must have been a fluke somehow, a branch kicked back into place at the back of the pasture that led to the woods.

  You're going to make fun of me for what I did next because it's what every dumb person in every slasher film ever made does—I followed. Go ahead. Scream and tell me to get a knife or call Hunter. Too late.

  I did have a can of mace in my pocket that was a precaution I started taking after the last time somebody tried to kill me, so I felt and made sure it was still there, then pulled some magic into my hands and moved toward the woods.

  Eyes and ears open to the slightest movement or sound, I crept along and kept one eye on the ground for tracks and another ahead for movement. I was almost to the tree line when I saw a boot print. Or at least a piece of one. Whoever left it was big, but stealthy.

  Pushing through the foliage where I'd seen the movements, the prints became a little easier to follow, though they went on forever. After about twenty minutes, they faded out as the ground became rockier because I was getting closer to the lake. It didn't matter at that point, though; I knew this property inside out. They were headed to the old cabin on the water.

  I thought of the place as I straightened up and smoothed out my gait. Now that I knew where I was going, I didn't figure there was any reason to keep looking for prints, though I did still keep an eye out in case I was wrong. Sure enough, every several yards, there'd be a print.

  It took me another ten minutes or so to reach the cabin. I stopped and watched for movement inside. Nothin. I frowned. I know this is where the person was headed. Right when I'd decided just to go up and knock, Addy popped in beside me, nearly giving me a heart attack.

  I clutched my chest. "What are you doing?" I hissed.

  "What are you doing," she volleyed back.

  "Whoever's been messing around at the farm is in that cabin."

  She looked over her shoulder, a half-grin on her face. "Actually, sugar pie, he's not. He's standing about twenty feet behind you."

  I whipped around, causing the man standing there to stiffen. He was as big as the size of his foot indicated—at least six-two—and was wearing jeans, combat boots, and an Army t-shirt. There was a German-Shepard mix standing beside him.

  "Noelle, meet Matthew Pierce. Matt, this is my niece Noelle Flynn."

  "You know him? Addy, what's going on?"

  She scowled. "Mind your manners."

  My face got hot and I held out my hand. "I apologize, Mr. Pierce. It's a pleasure to meet you." The situation felt surreal and I turned back to Addy.

  "Okay, Auntie," I smiled, tight-lipped. "I think you got some splainin' to do."

  She smiled. "I reckon you're right. Matt?"

  He gestured toward the house. "Please, I just put some coffee on. Have a cup, and I'll answer your questions as best I can. By the way, this is Wiz."

  Now that my heart had settled back into its proper place, I couldn't help but notice that he was a good-looking man. His hair was a little overdue for a cut, and he had some stubble. Instead of looking messy though, it added to the whole manly-man image.

  "Wiz?"

  "Yeah, as in wizard. The people who had him before me couldn't keep him contained. Said he was a magician at opening gates and chewing through tethers. That's why they gave him to me, but I haven't had that problem." He reached down and rubbed the dog's ears. "I reckon maybe he just wasn't suited to a life of confinement."

  "Sounds like it."

  The porch was no longer sagging and the roof, which had been close to falling in, looked rock-solid. The windows were clean and there was a rocking chair on the porch. I recognized one of our old poles leaning against the railing.

  The inside was as pristine as the outside. He'd gone to a lot of effort to clean it up. There was a percolator of coffee sitting on a camp stove and he pulled an extra cup from one of the cabinets, then filled it and the one he'd been carrying up.

  "I'm sorry I don't have any milk or sugar," he said. I took a sip and it was fabulous. Strong but not burnt.

  "No, this is great, thank you."

  Every time I moved, he adjusted his position so that his body was at a forty-five-degree angle from mine, though he didn't appear to be doing it intentionally. Wiz's eyes tracked me as I moved too, though it didn't feel creepy. Just protective.

  It was cool enough out that the shaded porch would be nice, especially overlooking the lake. I took my coffee that direction and he followed. Addy floated along, just watching.

  He offered the chair and I slid into it while he leaned against a porch railing. We sipped in silence for a couple of minutes before he spoke.

  "I'm originally from South Carolina but I've been here for a few months now. I was in the army and when I got back, they retired me. I was hiking across the state and found Keyhole Lake. It's a beautiful area."

  He stopped talking as if he'd run out of words. Addy raised her brows and continued. "If I may, Matt?"

  He nodded.

  "Matthew don't care much for being around lots of people or in crowds. He's more of a limited-doses kind of socializer. I was hangin' out back here a month or so ago thinkin'—I always did love this part of the lake—and Matthew happened by."

  One corner of his mouth turned up. "What she means to say is I'd stopped for the night and had sort of helped myself to the cabin and your fishin' pole so I could catch my supper and sleep under a roof."

  I was starting to get the picture.

  "Addy introduced herself and at first I thought she was one of my—" he started to say something then stopped and took a deep breath. "I thought she was a figment of my imagination. I'd never seen an actual ghost before. At least not one like her that's still pretty much alive, minus a body."

  "I told Matt he was welcome to stay here as long as he wanted." She gave me a look that I wasn't sure how to interpret until she continued speaking. "I also told him there were plenty eggs at the house that he didn't need to live on just fish, and that you made wonderful pastries and bread."

  Oh. So that's what that look was for; she'd been worried I'd get mad because she'd told him to help himself to our food. I was a little hurt that she'd think I'd have a problem with that.

  He looked at her with admiration. "And of course, since you know her, you likely know she eventually convinced me that it was okay."

  I arched a brow and looked at her. "You mean she nagged you and browbeat you until you did what she said."

  His laughter surprised me; it was rich and honest. "Yeah. I was tryin' to be a little more generous than that, considering she wasn't doing anything other than trying to feed me." He looked at her fondly. "It's been a long time since anybody really cared one way or the other."

  That made me a little sad, but it also made me proud that she was my aunt, and happy all over again that she'd decided to hang around instead of crossing over.

  "I refused to just take it, though. I tried to do things around the place to help you out in exchange for the food."

  Everything clicked into place. "There's nothin' wrong with my hens, and my feed room door and saddle racks didn't magically fix themselves overnight, did they?"

  "No," he said, smiling. "Sorry to disappoint you."

  "You could have introduced yourself, you know."

  He looked at his feet, then out over the water. "That's a hard thing for me. And how do you do that, really? Hey, I'm the guy who's been stealing your eggs, and fixing your stuff? It's been a while since I've interacted much with folks, but
I'm pretty sure that's still weird."

  "Yeah, since you put it that way, I can see your problem." I watched out of the corner of my eye as he sipped his coffee.

  "You know," he said, "if you're planning to lay tile around that pool, the dirt's at the wrong slant, at least so far."

  I lowered my brows. "How do you know that?"

  "I've had a job in probably every area of building you can imagine. Before I went in the army, I had my own business. I tried to pick it back up, but it's just too much. I can't deal with people like that anymore. I'm good at the back end of things, and I still love working with my hands, but I can't work directly on a crew anymore."

  "Well, you don't have to sneak around anymore or worry about food. I'll gladly trade labor for groceries if you're willing to trade."

  Addy glowered at me and I raised my brows in the what? expression.

  "Are you lookin' to stay around here awhile? If so, you'll likely need somewhere more permanent to stay. With lights and water."

  Ohhh. I knew what she was trying to get me to do, but I wasn't sure I was willing to do it. Still, Addy would never in a million years suggest such a thing if she thought for a minute there was any danger for us involved. I sighed. Why not? Everybody needs a chance sometimes, right?

  "If you're interested, there's an apartment above the barn. Honestly, it's probably got an inch of dust, but it's a nice place cleaned up. We used to rent it out to a girl who had her horse boarded there, but it's been empty for a couple of years. You wanna see it?"

  "I don't know," he said. "I kinda like it here."

  All of a sudden, I felt like somebody was stabbing a railroad spike through my forehead. I grabbed my temples and put my head between my knees.

  Noelle Elizabeth! You answer me right now, you hear? Shelby's voice was frantic.

  Shel, I'm okay. I'm sorry. I'm back at the cabin on the lake. I found out where our eggs have been going, and who's been fixing things.

  I lifted my gaze to Addy. "Shelby's flipping out. Please go tell her I'm okay and that I'll be home in just a few minutes."

  She nodded and flickered out. I turned back to Matthew, who was staring at me.