mystic caravan mystery 02 - freaky lies (9 page)

“I … didn’t mean that,” Kade protested. “I was still worked up about the butt comment.”

Luke snickered. “I think my work here is done,” he said. “Are you guys done asking questions? I’m ready to go. I didn’t find one guy to cruise. They’re all straight … or at least pretending to be straight. There’s nothing worse than an all-straight farmers market. It’s sacrilegious or something.”

Annette raised her eyebrows. I was sure she was about to say something nasty to my best friend. “They’re probably pretending to be straight,” she said. “You’re a cutie. If they weren’t pretending to be something they’re not to make sure the local rednecks don’t thump them when they get drunk, I’m sure they’d volunteer to shuck your corn.”

My mouth dropped open. Did she just say what I think she said?

“Thank you,” Luke said, not missing a beat. “I like you.”

“Right back at you,” Annette said, grinning.

“Oh, good grief,” I muttered, annoyed. Only Luke could charm persnickety women at a farmers market in the middle of Nebraska. “Back to Frank,” I prodded. “It sounds like he was a pervert who didn’t get a lot of action. Did he have any enemies?”

“Oh, no,” Kathy said, solemnly shaking her head. “The only people who didn’t like Frank were the ones he hit on, their boyfriends and fathers, and the people he hustled playing cards at the bar. That’s how he made his living … playing cards.”

“That sounds like a big suspect pool,” Kade pointed out.

“Oh, well, a suspect pool is different from enemies,” Kathy explained.

“How?”

“What she’s saying is that Frank ticked a lot of people off, but he still managed to make friends because he had a way about him,” Annette supplied. “Kind of like your friend here.” The smile she graced Luke with was nothing short of flirty, which was disturbing on several levels. “Frank pissed people off every single day. No one would’ve killed him, though.”

“Someone killed him,” I reminded her. “That doesn’t sound like he was loved by everyone.”

“Which means he was killed by someone who didn’t know him,” Annette said.

That was an interesting suggestion. The more I talked with Annette the more I was convinced she might really have the sight. I couldn’t help but wonder whether she realized it. She could think she was simply overly intuitive. Or she could know and enjoy messing with people. I was leaning toward the latter. “So you think he was killed by someone who isn’t part of the regular Lincoln social circle,” I mused.

“That’s why we suspect it could be you,” Annette said.

“But we weren’t here when he was killed,” Kade said. “Also … what motive could we have?”

“You’re circus folk,” Kathy said. “You don’t need a motive. Circus folk kill because it entertains them. I saw it on television.”

“Really?” I arched a challenging eyebrow. “What show taught you that?”

“
Bones
.”

“I … what?”

“Never mind,” Kathy said, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Whoever killed Frank was a stranger, though. Annette is right. It couldn’t be anyone who actually knew him.”

“How do you know that?” Kade asked. “Frank sounds like the kind of guy who angered a lot of people. Just because most of those people forgave him doesn’t mean someone didn’t snap in the moment.”

“And cut his arms and legs off and drop him in a cornfield?” Annette challenged. “Something about your little scenario doesn’t make sense.”

Something about all of this didn’t make sense. I rolled my neck until it cracked, Annette and Kathy’s gossip wandering through my mind as my gaze caught a woman about twenty feet away. She looked young, barely out of her teens, and the sun glinted off her dark hair as she stared at me. I had no idea why my attention was drawn to her, but once we locked gazes I had trouble looking away.

“What about Frank’s family?” Kade asked, finally dragging my attention away from the woman and back to the conversation at hand. “Did he have siblings? It doesn’t sound as if he had a girlfriend, but what about his parents?”

“His family is still around, but I wouldn’t call them close or anything,” Annette said. “Like I said, Frank wasn’t a good guy. His family won’t miss him for anything other than the money he supplied whenever he won at cards. They also wouldn’t kill him, but that’s mostly because it would mean they’d have to get up from the couch to do it.”

“And where did he play cards?” Luke asked, his eyes gleaming. He loved a good card game. He fancied himself playing professional poker one day, despite the fact that he couldn’t bluff a class of blind kindergarteners.

“There are lots of places to play cards around here,” Annette replied. “We’re surrounded by crop fields. People need to get their entertainment somewhere. They just do it at seedy bars around these parts. Frank switched locations all of the time.”

“Well, thanks for the information,” I said, reaching for some potatoes. “We’re going to need some vegetables before we go.”

“Sure, honey,” Annette said, her expression thoughtful. “You should be careful, though. If you’re not guilty then you’re possible victims. My gut tells me something odd is going on out there. Now that Frank’s body has been found, someone is going to be desperate to make sure the murder isn’t tied to them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, shifting my eyes to the spot where the young woman stood moments before. She was gone. “You’ve been a big help. Thank you.”

8

Eight

^“
W
hat do you think?”

Kade navigated his truck onto the rural road that led from the farmers market to the main thoroughfare that would take us back to the circus grounds. The bed of the truck was filled with fresh vegetables, and we’d stopped at a nearby grocery store to get steaks for the grill. That would get us through the night until we could find a big box store to stock up on other items.

“I think they were wise,” Luke said, his arm resting over the back of the seat as he kept his gaze focused out the windshield. “They said I was cute. Only a wise person would notice that.”

“Not about that,” Kade said, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I was talking about Frank Ryland. They had a lot to say and yet … .”

“They didn’t tell us anything,” I finished. I’d noticed that, too. Annette and Kathy gave the appearance of being helpful, yet they offered very little in the way of actionable information. “I think it’s weird.”

“Yes. I think finding a body without arms, legs and eyes is weird, too,” Luke said, reaching forward so he could mess with the air conditioning vent. “Seriously, dude. Crank up the air conditioning. There’s barely any air coming out.”

Kade ignored Luke’s demand and focused on me. “You’ve been quiet since we left the market,” he said. “What are you thinking?”

That was a good question. I had no idea what I was thinking. My mind was so jumbled I wasn’t sure where to start. “I’m thinking that Annette has the sight.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Kade said. “The sight? Like the magical sight you have?”

“There are a lot of different psychic manifestations,” I explained. “She seemed to be able to read feelings and emotions when she felt like it, and she knew I was of Romani heritage. If she is a true mind reader she didn’t press the issue. I would’ve been able to feel her if she tried to invade my brain.”

“That’s one of those things I’m not sure I’m going to be able to wrap my mind around,” Kade said. “Continue, though. Why does it matter whether she’s a mind reader?”

“Because she was feeling us out for information in the guise of answering our questions,” I replied. “She’s as curious as we are. She acted cool and collected, but I think the body discovery upset her more than she wanted to let on.”

“She knew about Frank Ryland being missing, though,” Kade pointed out. “We didn’t have a name to go on before and now we do. She did answer some of our questions. We have more information now than when we started.”

“And what good is that going to do us?” Luke asked. “We have a name, but we don’t have a clue what to do with it.”

“We can ask questions once the circus opens,” Kade suggested. “We can get information from guests.”

“How does that work?” Luke challenged. “If we start asking questions we’ll draw attention to ourselves. Annette might have been joking when she said we were suspects, but I’m willing to bet a bottle of Cuervo Gold that a lot of people have been whispering just that all day long.”

Cuervo Gold? This was getting serious.

“But … we weren’t here when Frank was killed,” Kade said.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We’re outsiders. You heard them. We’re circus folk. That automatically means we’re suspect. The town hasn’t turned on us yet, but it could be only a matter of time if we’re not careful. If we ask questions, well, we have to be smart about it.”

“So … what?” Kade asked, keeping his eyes on the road as he leaned forward and directed an air conditioning vent so it blew directly on me before settling back in his seat. “Do you want to just let it go?”

I shook my head. “We can’t let it go,” I said. “That murder had ritualistic overtones.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Just that supernatural beings often kill in a ritualistic manner,” Luke replied. “If there’s something supernatural out there killing people, it will be drawn to us because of the dreamcatcher.”

Kade blew out a frustrated sigh. “So you’re saying that we’re potentially calling out to a killer.”

“Yes.” I bobbed my head up and down, the memory of the staring girl momentarily filling my mind. “We could be targets of a supernatural killer – or enticing victims. We have to be vigilant.”

“Aren’t we always?” Kade asked.

I shrugged, noncommittal. “We have to be more vigilant,” I explained. “Everyone will be watching us.”

“Well … great,” Kade muttered.

“Welcome to the big show,” Luke intoned “We’re either the center of suspicion or targets. That’s how it always is for us. Now hurry up. You drive like an old woman, and I’m starving.”

DINNER
during the set-up process is generally a group affair. We’re a family, so we eat together when we can. On busy show nights everyone fends for themselves. The time in between, though, is a combined effort.

“Did you find out anything?” Nelson “Nellie” Adler, Mystic Caravan’s bearded lady, appeared at my elbow as I unwrapped the steaks. He’s really a dwarf with a penchant for evening gowns, but he doesn’t like being pigeonholed. He also likes carrying an ax and chopping evil things’ heads off. He’s multifaceted and complicated. I can’t help but like him.

“We found out the dead guy’s name is Frank Ryland,” I replied, handing several steaks to Nellie before reaching for another package of meat. “He was apparently a serial groper and jackass who was hypersexualized because he wasn’t getting any. Oh, he also hustled cards at various bars for a living.”

“That sounds like a guy with a lot of enemies,” Nellie said. “Gambling debts might be a reason to chop off a guy’s hands.”

“Yes, but this guy had his arms and legs chopped off, and his eyes gouged out,” I said. “That seems like overkill.”

“Yeah.” Nellie stroked his scraggly beard as he considered the conundrum. “Plus, if you’re trying to get money from someone it’s generally best not to kill them in the process. You’ll never get your money back.”

“It sounds personal,” Percival announced, moving up to my other side and shooting me a flirty grin. The accent remained divine. In order to drown it out I had to remind myself that he purposely dressed as a clown for a living, which made him automatically suspicious. Oh, and there was also the way he hung back in the face of screaming children a few hours earlier. That didn’t exactly give me a warm and fuzzy feeling either.

“I think murder is always personal,” Nixie said, batting her aquamarine eyelashes at Percival as she moved to help him shuck corn. She was a regular fixture at dinner preparations, while her twin sister, Naida, often preferred disappearing when the prospect of manual labor became evident. Nixie obviously liked Percival’s accent, too. I had no idea whether the clown thing bothered her. She shrinks evildoers with magic dust and then sells the husks left behind as voodoo dolls. She has her own issues. “You have to really hate someone to kill them.”

I didn’t believe that for a second. We killed terrible creatures all of the time. We devised the dreamcatcher as a way to draw evil to us so we could dispatch it from a place of strength. It was almost never personal. “I’m not sure that’s true,” I hedged.

“How so?” Percival asked. He appeared genuinely curious.

“Well, take hitmen, for example,” I said. “They’re hired to kill people, but they don’t have a personal vendetta. The only thing in it for them is money.”

“That’s true,” Percival said. “It doesn’t sound as though that’s how this murder went down, though. Hitmen usually shoot someone in the head. Their kills are clean and efficient. They don’t want to hang around to torture someone by cutting off their limbs while they’re still alive.”

That was an interesting – and weird – way of looking at things. “We don’t know he was alive when he was dismembered,” I said. “We only know the state in which the body was found. All of the really bad things could’ve been done after he was killed.”

“I guess.” Percival didn’t look convinced. “I would think that dismembering a body like that – and taking the eyes – has a purpose, though.”

For someone so unruffled when screams rang out hours earlier, he seemed eager to talk about the ins and outs of ritualistic murder. That can’t be normal, right? “I honestly don’t know,” I finally said. “We need to keep our eyes open, though. If there is a murderer out there he could come back to check things out now that the body has been discovered. That could be dangerous for us.” And him, I silently added.

“It could’ve been a message,” Nellie suggested, his eyes cloudy as he shifted them to the cornfield. “Maybe the message was for us.”

That was a sobering thought. I’d had it myself, though, so I wasn’t surprised Nellie considered it, too. “The placement of the body does seem convenient,” I conceded. “We can’t jump to any conclusions.”