Page 8 of You Can Leave Your Hat On

“I don’t know that I believe all that stuff, but it sure looks that way,” Carly said.

“Me too. I think somehow, something or someone knows you’ll fight to find the truth, and it homes in on you and won’t let go. That’s why it keeps happening,” Cherilyn said in agreement.

“Great. Now I’ve got quite the souvenir to take home to Aaron. He’s gonna be super unhappy.” Maisey brushed the dust off the back of her dress and sighed. “Oh, well. I’m heading home. See you guys soon.”

“Yep. You too, honey. Aren’t you going into the hotel restroom to change before you get on the road?” Carly asked.

“Nah. I’ll just drive on.” Maisey didn’t care about changing clothes, or anything else, for that matter. All she wanted to do was drive home, break the bad news to Aaron, and take her lumps.

And then she’d have to get busy trying to find a killer.

CHAPTER TWO

“What did you do? Where did you go? What did you see?” Murielle was full of questions.

“Well, let’s see, first we went to a horse farm!”

“A horse farm? With real horses?” the little girl asked in a near-whisper, her eyes wide.

“Yes, ma’am. A real horse farm with real horses. We saw a new baby horse. They’re called foals, and when they’re a boy horse, they’re called a colt.”

“Oooo, what was his name?”

“Winged Fury. His mom is named Winged Peace. His dad’s name is Pickle Thief.”

“Pickle Thief?” Murielle asked, laughing. “That’s a funny name for a horse!”

“Yeah, it is! And then we went to the other barn and I met other horses. Ms.Carly took my picture with a horse named Asher’s Delight. They call him Ash for short.”

“Was his nose soft?”

Maisey nodded. “Very soft.”

“I want to meet a real horse and be its friend and rub its nose. Can I go there sometime maybe?”

“Actually, she gave me an invitation to come back sometime, so I’m sure we could do that.”

“Can we go tomorrow? Please?” Murielle whined.

“I don’t think so. Sunday is probably pretty busy for them.”

“But Sunday is a day of rest!” Murielle announced, echoing everything her grandparents had taught her.

“Not for folks on a horse farm! But we’ll go, I promise. Now, finish your dinner,” Maisey said and pointed at the plate, “and I’ll tell you about everything else we did.”

By the time Maisey had exhausted her recount of the day’s activities, Murielle’s plate was clean. “May I be excused to watch TV?” the little girl asked.

Aaron nodded. “Sure. Just remember to stay on your channel.” Aaron had subscribed to a streaming service that was just for kids ten and under, and that was all Murielle was allowed to watch.

“I will, Daddy. Thank you. Thank you, Mommy.”

“You’re welcome, bug. Love you,” Maisey called after her.

“Love you too.” The little girl skipped down the hallway and disappeared into her room.

“Sounds like you had a very good day,” Aaron said as he helped Maisey clear the table, but something about his tone set her on edge.

“It was a very good day. Great fun, great friends, great food. I loved the horse farm. Everything was wonderful.”

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