by Maher Tegan
“Yeah, that would make more sense.” Rae pulled off her apron and hung it on a peg beside the register. “The last thing I’m gonna try to do is figure out what’s going on in your gourd, though. I love you, but that’s a terrifying thought.”
She finished counting the drawer, and we left, locking the door behind us. “Now, why don’t we go lounge by the pool for a few hours before we get ready? I could use a pool day. We may even pre-game and have a glass of wine while we’re at it.”
That was the best proposition I’d had all day.
Chapter 4
T hree hours and two glasses of wine later, we were dressed and ready to head to Fancy’s to meet the girls.
“I’m glad we decided to do this,” Raeann said, grabbing her purse from the couch. “And I’m also glad that you have help around the farm now. It was sweet of Hunter to feed for you so you could relax. Are you still feeling okay about living together or have you discovered weird quirks like insisting on squeezing the toothpaste from the bottom instead of the middle? No woman needs that level of stress.” She grinned at me.
I smiled as I climbed into my truck. “Yeah, that would be just terrible. I don’t know how I’d cope. But no, the weirdest thing I’ve discovered is that he folds his socks in half rather than just rolling them into each other. Considering I don’t even match mine, I suppose I can tolerate that.”
“As long as he doesn’t start nagging you to use your dresser instead of having a ‘clean’ hamper and a ‘dirty’ one, I suppose you could let it slide.” She buckled up. “I hope Fancy’s is slow. I don’t feel like dealing with crowds.”
“Don’t count on it,” I replied as I backed out and headed down the drive. “It’s Saturday night. We’ll claim a pool table and sit in the corner where we can watch the weirdos with minimal interaction.”
Her stomach growled. “Wings before pool. I skipped lunch and the wine’s gone straight to my head.”
“Agreed.”
We made small talk on the way to the bar, and I was pleased to see our friend Camille’s little sports car parked in the corner of the lot. She’d been busy working with the Witches’ Council and hadn’t had much time to hang out with us.
Anna Mae was already there, too, and so was Coralee.
“Wow,” Raeann said as we headed across the lot. We’re usually the first ones here. I’m glad Camille and Anna Mae were able to make it.”
I chewed on my lip. “Yeah. Since Camille’s here, maybe that means the mission Shelby and Emma have been working on is coming to a close.”
Shelby, my little sister, was a member of an elite organization called the Celestial Academ that fought all sorts of evil that most people—witches included—didn’t even know existed. I worried about her because even though she’d been gifted with unbelievable powers by an angel when she was sixteen, in my mind, she was still the little girl who needed me to watch after her.
“Yeah,” she said, pulling the door open, “they popped into Brew the other day. Just for a second to get lattes and say hi, but they both looked rested. I didn’t see any bruises or other signs that they’ve been in a tussle, so maybe they’re in a lull.”
I squinted and stepped to the side of the door after we were inside. It was so dim that I couldn’t see a thing for a few seconds. When my eyes adjusted, Camille and Anna Mae were waving to us. Thankfully, they’d had the same idea about watching people instead of interacting and had snagged a corner table. They already had a bucket of beer in front of them, too, so double win.
“Hey,” I said, hooking my purse over the back of a chair and plucking a beer from the bucket of ice. “Y’all got a head start on us.”
Raeann laughed as she pulled the last beer from the bucket. “Not really, though. We had two glasses of wine while we were being lazy around the pool.”
Camille looked good. For the last year or so, she’d been so wrapped up in what was going on with the girls that she’d had chronic bags under her eyes and had always seemed tired. Tonight, though, she was back to the old Camille, looking runway-ready in designer jeans and a green silk top. The woman would make a gunny sack look like high fashion.
I clinked bottles with her. “You look great. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Yeah,” she said, “me too. I’ve missed y’all and was so glad when you texted that I almost cried. I needed a night out, and we’re between missions right now, so I don’t even have anything to stress about.”
“Hey, ladies!” Cheri Lynn said as she popped into view wearing a cute yellow sundress and sandals with daisies on the tops. She’d inherited her grandmother’s Romani looks and, like Camille, could wear anything. Her preference ran more toward cute, though, because she’d died young.
“Hey, Cheri Lynn!” Anna Mae said, tipping her beer toward her. “Long time, no see. You’re not jet-setting tonight?”
She crinkled her nose and shimmered a little, but tipped the translucent fruity drink in her hand back at Anna Mae. “Nah, the boys are down in New Orleans in some dusty old mansion. It’s weird because the woman who haunts it doesn’t like the remodel, so she keeps it the same in our dimension as it was when she was alive. I can see how it used to look and how it looks now at the same time. It’s sorta like having double vision and makes me queasy.”
“Yeah,” I replied, nodding to Marybeth, the biker-looking woman who owned the bar, when she held up a finger asking from behind the bar if we needed another bucket. “Erol said y’all were havin’ a shindig down there. He’s excited to see which of the ghost stories are true and which ones are just made up.”
“Not me,” she said with a delicate shudder. “I’ll go back for drink refills, but they can have the ghosts. Some of them are downright scary. I suppose it’s because they have all that voodoo down there, but I don’t see no reason why you have to drag yourself around all Emo and dark just because you died a violent death. If you ask me, they’re wasting their afterlives. It’s depressing.”
I smiled because that was a perspective we’d never have if we didn’t have post-living friends. She swore her post-life life was much better than her pre-dying one, and I couldn’t help but agree with her. Before she’d been killed, she’d been an exotic dancer in a shady nightclub and had been under the thumb of our previous nightmare of a sheriff. Now she had a great boyfriend who was showing her the world.
Marybeth hustled over with our bucket, snapping the empty one up and setting a full one on the neon-green frisbee that served to trap the condensation. “Y’all hungry tonight?”
We all nodded.
“Starvin’,” Anna Mae said. “I swear, I eat twice as much now, and I’m thirsty all the time.”
“That’s nursin’ for ya. When Lacey was a baby, all I did was eat. I carried a water bottle everywhere, too. You’re regular, then?” Marybeth asked, wiping her hand on her black apron.
“Yep, fifty wings, hot garlic,” I replied, glancing at everybody else to make sure they were in agreement.
“And a big basket of fries,” Anna Mae added. “If I’m doin’ it, I’m gonna do it right.”
“How’s it goin’ bein’ a landlord?” Coralee asked Marybeth.
She lifted a shoulder. “All right, I suppose. Lacy’s been runnin’ the club and is doin’ a bang-up job of it. This place mostly runs itself. I’m only workin’ tonight because one of the girls is sick. Otherwise, I been putting the final touches on the B&B so we can do our grand opening. I’m havin’ trouble keepin’ up with everything, though. I’m considerin’ hirin’ a property manager.”
Visions from Bobbie Sue’s flashed through my head. “Don’t go with Barbie Lee. Just ask Miranda.”
“Oh, believe me,” she said, holding up a hand, “no worries there. As a matter of fact, the woman just had to gall to show up here shovin’ a business card at me. Miranda took one look at her, and I figured it was best all around if I just told Barbie Lee to skedaddle before Miranda shoved the card somewhere that woulda been mighty uncomfortable. I’da let her,
too.”
“Wow,” Coralee said, shaking her head as she pulled a fresh beer out of the bucket and replaced it with her empty. “That’s some nerve, there.”
“Yeah, well tonight was supposed to be Miranda’s night off, so I reckon Barbie Lee figured it was safe. Plus, I don’t get the feelin’ she’s got much sense. The world owes her,” Marybeth replied. “I set her straight on that pretty quick. Havin’ her managin’ my properties would be worse than just doin’ it myself.”
Marybeth gave the table a wipe, then turned to leave when somebody whistled to get her attention from a few tables over. “I’m not a dog,” she snapped as she strolled to them. “If you want somethin’, be respectful. That was your one warnin’.”
I smiled. That was one of the reasons we came here. Marybeth didn’t take any guff, and she ran a tight ship. Things could get rowdy, but everybody knew to mind their manners. If they didn’t, she taught them pretty quick.
Anna Mae frowned and rolled her shoulders, a look of discomfort flitting across her face.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “Just havin’ some mom problems. This whole nursing thing is great for Amelia, but not so fabulous for me. I feel like a cow that needs milkin’ every two hours.”
Coralee laughed. “To be fair, you sorta are.”
Anna Mae shot a glare in her direction but Kristen’s arrival cut off any retort. That was probably for the best.
I scooted my chair over to make room for her.
We spent the next couple of hours playing pool and stuffing ourselves on wings, then lost a game—and the table—to a group of construction workers who said they were in town doing a big remodel on a hotel. That was fine, though.
“Aw, man,” Raeann said with a disgusted sigh. “Just when the evening was going so well.”
I followed her gaze and groaned. My archnemesis Olivia and her two dippy minions had claimed a table by the bar. They looked trashy as usual, but I couldn’t help doing a double-take when the dim lighting caught the rock on her finger. “When did she get engaged?”
Coralee flapped a hand. “A month or so ago. It’s all she talks about, and she waves that thing around like it’s a handful of hundred-dollar bills.”
“Well,” Kristen said, “it sort of is.”
“Assuming it’s not a cubic zirconia,” Bobbie Sue snickered. “I wouldn’t put it past that balding cheapskate she’s marrying to take the cheap route, but even if it is, she’d never know.”
“How did somebody as high-maintenance as she is fall in with somebody as cheap as Bill Gorman?” Raeann asked. “Everybody knows he’s so cheap that when he dies, he’ll go to the light just so he can turn it off.”
“He’s showin’ off for her right now,” Coralee said. “He’s been winin’ and dinin’ her for the past six months, but it’s only because his mama’s been naggin’ him for grandbabies and an heir. Believe me, as soon as the I dos are over, he’ll be changin’ his tune and lockin’ down the checking accounts.”
I pushed away an unwanted feeling of pity. She was mean to the bone, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she somehow managed to twist him up and get her own way in the end. Olivia was a lot of things but I had no doubt she was marrying for money and had a plan to keep the cash cow eating out of the palm of her hand. I shuddered at the thought but didn’t waste any more headspace on her once a dartboard opened up.
“As much as I’d love to stay and play,” Coralee said, pulling a few bills from her wallet and tossing them on the table, “I’ve gotta give Ms. Schumacher a perm first thing in the mornin’. She’s a sweetheart, but she talks about her cats the entire time, and I don’t think I could deal with that hungover. You kids behave.”
A while later, I checked my phone for messages and was shocked to see it was already midnight. I turned to ask Rae if she was about ready to go, but before I could, a scream tore through the restaurant from the open backdoor. Since we were the closest to it, we were the first to react, rushing outside to see what the ruckus was.
Miranda was standing over a body, her hand stuffed against her mouth trying to stifle another scream. Cold washed over me as I realized it was exactly like the vision I’d had that day at Bobbie Sue’s when I thought I’d been reading her mind. Stunned by both the body and the scene that had been so clear in my head eight hours before it had even happened, I pushed through the crowd and back into the bathroom, barely making it before I threw up.
Chapter 6
“N oelle, honey, are you all right?” Camille said softly from outside the stall door.
I swallowed and took a deep breath. “Yeah,” I said, my voice shaky. I wasn’t, though.
“No,” she replied, “you’re not. Your head’s a mess.”
I wiped my mouth and blew my nose, then pushed out of the stall. I wasn’t some wimp who puked or cried at the sight of a body. I’d seen way too many for that. “Get out of my head.”
She pulled in a breath and blew it out through her cheeks. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose. Your brain is screaming loud enough for any telepath within a ten-mile radius to hear. What in the world is wrong with you?”
I splashed water on my face as she hovered near my arm. I glanced under the stall doors to make sure we were alone before I confessed.
“I saw this before it happened,” I hissed, grabbing her arm as I struggled to tamp down another freak-out.
“Wait, what?” she asked, her dark gaze snapping to me.
I nodded and swallowed. “Yeah, today at Bobbie Sue’s. Miranda confronted her about not fixing her AC. I thought I was just reading Miranda’s thoughts because she was fightin’ mad.”
“That’s not possible,” she said, her gaze pinned somewhere over my left shoulder.
I leaned my head against the cool tile wall and pressed a wet brown paper towel against my forehead. “Obviously it is because it happened.”
“But you’re not a psychic; you’re a telepath,” she said, her voice faint. I wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince me or herself.
“Be that as it may, I saw Barbie Lee layin’ exactly like she was, in the dark, at Miranda’s feet. The only thing I didn’t see was the screamin’.” I thought back. “But then again, I’m not sure I saw Miranda’s face or if there was any sound. I was focused more on the body when I had the vision.”
She pulled in a couple fortifying breaths. “That’s a mess we’ll try to untangle later. Right now, we need to focus on the fact that Barbie Lee is layin’ dead outside and it doesn’t look too good for Miranda.”
“I have to tell Hunter what I saw,” I said.
Her gaze refocused and snapped back to me. “You absolutely do not. Not until we figure this out. We don’t know for sure what happened, and if you tell him, he’s gonna think Miranda’s guilty.”
I rolled my head on my shoulders, grateful that my stomach had stopped rolling. I was feeling much calmer, though I wasn’t sure if that was because I was really feeling better or if my mind was just numb from trying to process what I’d seen.
“I’m not gonna to lie to him,” I said, determined not to keep secrets. I’d tried that already, and the only thing at the end of that path was strife.
She sighed. “No, and I don’t expect you to. But at least give him a chance to process the scene before you say anything. He’s a great cop, but he’s human and doesn’t understand the intricacies of magic. He’ll take you at your word and trust the vision you had.”
“Fair enough,” I replied, knowing in my heart she was right. Hunter was a great guy, but he was all about the science and math. Things tended to be absolute with him. Right or wrong. Telling him now would just muddle things.
“Good,” she said with a sharp nod. “Now let's get back out there and take a look for ourselves before his guys show up and run us off. You need to see if there are any differences, and with the way you bolted, there’s no way you got a good look.”
I took a steadying breath and nodded to her. “Let’s do
it.”
When we pushed through the back door, Marybeth had cleared the scene and sent everybody back inside. The only people there were her and my crew, all of whom were trying to calm Miranda down enough to get the story from her. While they did that, I took a good look at the scene, trying to avoid focusing on the bloody gash on Barbie Lee’s head. Thankfully, her eyes were closed.
A broken chunk of concrete the size of a softball lay a few feet away, and from the blood on it, I had to assume that was the murder weapon. A black designer hobo bag was a couple feet from the body. An eyeliner, a spendy lipstick, and a bottle of bright peach fingernail polish along with a checkbook, a pack of gum, and some receipts were strewn across the pavement in front of it.
I pulled in a deep breath and examined the body to see if there was any obvious sign of a struggle. Her blond hair was a mess like maybe somebody had pulled it, and the two top buttons of her white button-down shirt were missing. She’d also broken the left heel off her designer shoe. Whatever had happened, she’d put up a fight. I forced myself to move a little closer and closed my eyes. A few strands of brunette hair lay across her half-open palm.
I glanced over my shoulder toward Miranda. She shoved a lock of messy dark hair behind her ear, but I couldn’t tell if it was mussed from a fight or because she’d run her hands through it while struggling to calm herself. Her mascara had run down her cheeks, but aside from that, she didn’t look like she’d been in a fight. None of that was conclusive, though. It could have just been that she’d gotten the better of Barbie Lee from the get-go and had avoided messing up her clothes. After all, a tank top, shorts, and sneakers were much more durable than the power suit Barbie Lee had on.
“Just breathe, sugar,” Coralee was saying. “This is important. How did you find her? What were you doing?”
Miranda swallowed a couple of times then hiccupped. “I was just bringin’ the trash out,” she said, motioning toward a dumpster situated several feet away and in the opposite direction from the door as the body. “I didn’t even see her until I turned around to go back inside. She was just layin’ there with blood runnin’ down her forehead. I bent down to see if she had a pulse, and when she didn’t, I freaked out.”
