“She has to feel so alone.” Connie looked at Jesse with eyes that mourned. “I’m just so sorry for her, and I don’t know if anyone else is ever going to understand why.”
“I understand,” Jesse said, grateful to find someone else as warped as she felt. “I think I may regret it, but I’ll probably be visiting her. You can go with me, if you want.”
“Yes.”
Before Connie could say more, the door opened again and Bliss came out, glancing stealthily back over her shoulder as she pulled the door closed behind her.
“Oh, I’m so glad you two are still out here,” she whispered. Soundlessly, she cross the porch and joined them midway on the steps. “I can’t believe it was Cindilee. I feel so awful.”
“But you said she was the one,” Jesse reminded her.
“I know. But I didn’t really mean it. How in the world could someone that frail have done something like that? And how desperate did she have to be?”
“Wait, don’t tell me,” Jesse said. “You feel sorry for her. You still want to be her friend, even though you weren’t really her friend to start with. And if we…” She gestured to herself and Connie. “…go visit Cindilee in jail, you want to go with us.”
“Oh, could we? I’d feel so much better. And it’s not that I want to be her friend, exactly…” Bliss shrugged and just stood there, looking as confused and conflicted as she sounded.
Jesse looked from one woman to the other. They reminded her of Snow White and Cinderella. Beautiful and kind and gullible. She didn’t know what her own excuse was. “I hope you realize that she may just spit in our eyes. She’s not vulnerable and sweet. She’s conniving and self-serving.”
“She’s also alone,” Connie said softly. “And has been for most of her life. And she’s a lot more vulnerable that she would ever want anyone to know. So she can spit in my eye if she wants to. It’s not going to bother me.”
“If she never liked me, she had a good reason,” Bliss added. “I knew Bill had a crush on me. I knew it hurt her. What I never knew was that Bill was no better to her than Harry was to me. She and I could have been friends.”
“She says she has terminal cancer,” Jesse warned. “It could be the truth, or it could be one more manipulation.”
“That’s so sad.” Connie shook her head and her turquoise eyes shimmered. “Do you think it’s true?”
“She seemed pretty sick to me,” Jesse conceded. “And it didn’t look fake.”
Bliss bobbed her head, looking more determined than ever. “Well, that settles it then.”
“I would also like to mention that the woman’s probably a sociopath,” Jesse added. She knew that fact didn’t matter to her, but Connie and Bliss needed to realize that their kindness might be going out to someone who could squash them like a bug and not feel a thing. “And people might find it a little odd that you’re befriending the woman who killed your husband, Bliss.”
Bliss’s shoulders squared and her chin lifted defiantly, a gesture that looked for the world like Vivian Windsor. “I’m through caring about things like that. The only people whose opinions I care about are the ones who are here tonight.”
“I think it might be time for us all to go inside now,” Sophia said gently, reminding them for the first time that she was still standing there.
Jesse hooked her arm through her mother’s and together they followed the other two women into the house, where there appeared to be a party going on.
The laughter broke off and turned into applause as Jesse slowed to a halt and faced the group that poured out of Malcolm’s study and into the cavernous foyer. SueAnn bounced as she clapped. Lindsey moved one step to the side to allow more space between them and resumed her more restrained applause. Matt put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
Vivian crossed the area between them and took both of Jesse’s shoulders in her hands. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so glad to see you.” She pulled her closer into a cheek-to-cheek hug and whispered, “I have spent three days cooped up in this house, dodging the news media and babysitting Bliss. How can I ever thank you?”
“I believe I said that thanks weren’t necessary,” Jesse whispered in return.
Vivian drew back, though not far. “Well, I’m still grateful. In fact, I haven’t felt this alive in years. Oh, and I gave that account information you sent to the auditor.”
“According to Cindilee, Bill’s already transferred the funds out of it. She said he was going to return part of it to the dealership’s corporate account. Also, a full confession of his actions and Cindilee’s is supposed to be in the mail to Bliss.”
“Why?” Bliss demanded, having moved close enough to overhear. The edges of her mouth were a pinched white and her cheeks were flushed.
“Apparently, he wanted to make sure that you were cleared,” Jesse explained. “And he assumed that he wouldn’t be here to talk to the police directly.” If she were a betting person, she would wager that an apology and possibly a declaration of love were included in that note.
Bliss drew in a breath, and her cheeks turned even darker. “He left his desperately ill wife here to take the blame alone, while he went flying off with a bank account full of embezzled money, and he has the gall to try to ease his conscience with a letter?”
Her indignant voice had risen steadily, and the last word ended with a crescendo. Jesse was impressed. She didn’t think she had ever heard Bliss shout before. She’d seen her drunk, drugged, and hysterical, but never quivering with outrage. It looked good on her.
Vivian pressed her shoulder to Jesse’s and dropped her voice to a murmur. “I told you she’d be okay. Girl’s got more moxie than she ever let herself show. She just needed to get rid of that damned husband of hers.”
“I still think it’s a little premature to be saying things like that out loud,” Jesse whispered back. “In fact, you should probably never say things like that out loud.”
“I’m not used to watching what I say,” Vivian answered with a frown. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like it.”
“Well, how about if you just try it for a little while,” Jesse cajoled. “We’ll give it a time limit, and it will only apply to Harry. You can say anything you want about anything else, and then in, say, maybe a month you can go back to saying anything you want about Harry, too.”
Vivian made a face, her eyes narrowed in thought, her mouth pursed in distaste. “Well,” she responded finally, “they say learning new things is good for you as you grow older.” She slid her arm through Jesse’s and turned toward the study. “Can I talk about Bill instead? Because, boy, did that guy ever turn out to be a slimy bastard.”
She threw her free arm into the air in an expansive circle. “Come on, everybody. Let’s get this party started. Bliss is off the hook, and Jesselyn’s through having to play detective.”
“Until next time,” SueAnn added eagerly. “I had such fun! And I was just starting to get really good at it.”
“Until forever,” Jesse corrected. “There won’t be a next time.”
A surprisingly loud “aw-w-w” went up from the surrounding populace, causing her to stop and swing around. The first gaze she met was Matt’s, and he was staring back at her with a mutual horror frozen on his face.
“Never say never, dear.” Vivian patted the arm that was looped through her own. “It wouldn’t have to be a murder next time, you know.”
“I’m game,” Lindsey said. “It certainly didn’t hurt business at the Lily. As long as it’s something small where we don’t have a bunch of reporters hanging around.”
“Oh, now, really,” Sophia protested.
“Oh, yes, please.” SueAnn’s plea was accompanied by a seriously contorted face and hands clasped in supplication. “I’ll be so much better next time. I’ve already signed up for my first criminology course at school.”
“I really would like another shot at it,” Connie added, joining the chorus. “I barely had a chance to get out of the gate on this one.”
<
br /> “I don’t think so,” Matt argued with the room in general and his wife in particular. He and Sophia exchanged a quick look of solidarity.
“Seriously?” Jesse asked. “We live in the middle of nowhere. How much crime do you think we’re going to encounter in the course of a year?”
Bliss cleared her throat, furrowed her brow and began hesitantly, “Well, I’m not taking sides here, but considering the amount of crime that surfaced while investigating what could have been dismissed as an accident if it had been planned better, I have to say that maybe there’s more out there than we think.” She shrugged then and fell silent.
Jesse looked around at the eager band of conspirators. More than fifty years separated the youngest from the oldest. Their professions spanned from waitress to heiress, artist to cook, from lives just beginning to lives starting over. They were friends and family, and they were bound by a common hope and the need to make a difference in their own lives as much as the others they touched.
With a short glance of apology to her mother and Matt, Jesse shrugged. “Okay, we won’t go looking for trouble, but if it finds us, I think we’ll know what to do with it next time.”
An enthusiastic shout of joy went up around her, and as she gave into the laughter that bubbled in the air, Jesse thought of Joe Tyler and hoped he would never know of this meeting. Which reminded her…
“By the way,” she said over the sounds of celebration, “we have to put in a flower bed for the Myrtle Grove town square.”
Bliss beamed. “Really? That’s wonderful. I’m not even going to ask how it happened.”
“I am,” Matt said.
“Don’t,” Jesse answered.
“I don’t do dirt,” Lindsey reminded her.
“You can help plan.”
“I don’t know anything about flowers,” Lindsey insisted.
“That’s okay,” Jesse said, refusing to worry about anything else today. “We’ll work it out.”
“Oh, my heavens,” SueAnn crooned. “Life is wonderful.”
Sophia moved next to Jesse and murmured, “Good plan, sweetheart. We’ll keep them too busy with the Garden Club to even think about murder.”
“I certainly hope so,” Jesse answered softly.
“Just remember,” Vivian insisted in a whisper, “it doesn’t have to be murder. We can start with missing dogs and wandering husbands and just see what life brings us.”
Which was exactly what Jesse was afraid of.
Recipes from the Gilded Lily Tea Room
Old Fashioned Millionaire Pie
Ingredients:
1 Pie Crust, prebaked (9 inch)
2 cups Powdered Sugar
¼ lb. or 1 stick marg./butter, softened
1 large Egg
¼ teas. Salt
¼ teas. Vanilla
2 tables. Lemon juice
1 cup heavy/whipping cream
¼ cup Powdered sugar
1 cup Crushed Pineapple, well drained
½ cup Chopped Nuts (pecans/walnuts)
Directions:
Cream 2 cups powdered sugar and butter with mixer until fluffy. Add eggs, salt, vanilla, and lemon juice; beat until fluffy. Spread into baked pie shell and chill.
Whip cream with mixer, adding ¼ cup powdered sugar and whipping until stiff. Fold in nuts and well-drained pineapple. Spoon over pie filling and chill thoroughly.
Decorate top with maraschino cherries or shredded coconut if desired.
(There are lots of variations on this recipe out there. This is one of the originals, served in many restaurants, and a long-time favorite.)
~~~~~
Lemon Pecan Pie
Ingredients:
1 unbaked Pie Shell (8 inch)
3 large Eggs
1/3 stick Butter, melted
1 ½ cups Sugar (granulated)
¾ cup Pecan halves
1 tablespoon Lemon Zest
Juice of 1 small Lemon
Directions:
Hand mix eggs, butter, and sugar until blended but not frothy. Slowly mix in pecans, shredded lemon peel and lemon juice in order given until well blended. Pour into unbaked pie shell.
Bake in preheated oven at 350 degrees for ten (10) minutes. Reduce heat to 300 degrees and continue baking until crust is browned and pie filling is set (about 50 minutes total.)
(A really nice variation on a pecan pie, with a less sweet, lighter flavor.)
~~~~~
Dear Reader,
To sign up for Loulou’s mailing list for news, recipes, giveaways and lots more information on the Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Series, visit Loulou at:
Website: http://loulouharrington.com
For a sneak peak at book 2, Murder Most Thorny, read on:
Excerpt
MURDER MOST THORNY
A Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery
Loulou Harrington
Chapter One
Up before dawn, Jesselyn Camden exited her second floor apartment on tiptoe. The door shut behind her with a soft snick as she turned and, staying close to the walls, avoided the creaking center floor boards of the Victorian’s ancient landing.
Behind her, French doors led to the rear veranda that ran the width of the second story. Ahead of her a dark mahogany staircase led to the first floor foyer, where the faint ruby glow of a stained glass nightlight accentuated the shadows of the still dark interior. With a cautious glance toward the closed door of her mother’s apartment on the other side of the landing, Jesse took three steps toward the staircase before the creak of a floorboard echoed through the silence.
“Jesse, dear, is that you?”
Frozen in place, Jesse smothered a groan and looked behind her. She saw nothing but gloom lit by the faint glow of moonlight bleeding through the French doors.
“Yes.” She looked around her, seeking the disembodied voice that was alarmingly clear—too clear to be coming from inside her mother’s apartment and too close to be coming from the foyer below. “Did I wake you?”
The tinkle of her mother’s laughter caressed the predawn like a soft breeze through a wind chime. Behind Jesse, the doors to the veranda opened.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Sophia Camden chirped with the enthusiasm of a morning person. “I was hoping you would be up in time to join me for a cup of coffee before you went running off. I have a thermos and an extra cup.” She turned to the side and swept her arm toward the wicker seating arrangement that was just out of sight. “I even have a spare orange roll with your name on it.”
Her mother’s voice hovered between cajoling and pleading, and Jesse couldn’t bring herself to say ‘no’ and walk away.
“I don’t have much time,” she said instead. “Winnie’s expecting me.”
“I’ve never known a cup of coffee and an orange roll to slow you down for more than a few minutes,” Sophia answered with the confidence of victory.
From the porch behind her, flickering candlelight echoed her invitation. Still a pretty woman at 69, Sophia Camden was just plump enough to be a good armful, she liked to say, and exuded a warm and inviting attitude that embraced everyone. This was a favorite time of day for Jesse and Sophia to steal a few minutes together before the downstairs businesses they co-owned with two others got started.
“You know me too well.” Jesse returned her mother’s smile.
“You know what they say…” Sophia turned and disappeared through the open doorway, her voice carrying over her shoulder as she went. “…mothers know the right buttons to push—since they installed most of them.”
By the time Jesse caught up, her coffee was poured and sitting beside a comfortable wicker chair. Next to the coffee was a yeast roll with orange zest sprinkled through a glaze made from powdered sugar and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Sophia herself was curled into the corner of a settee, her legs drawn up in the seat and tucked under the warmth of an afghan.
“So, you’re meeting little Winnie Harkness today. And I know she’s been married
for years, but she’ll always be little Winnie Harkness to me. So, how is she doing?”
“Okay, I hope.” Sinking into the wicker chair, Jesse wrapped her fingers around the coffee cup and let its warmth chase away the chill of the early spring morning. “She’s not-so-little Winnie Rogers these days, at least she was the last time I saw her. But between our two schedules, we don’t get together as much as we should.”
“Wasn’t she having marriage problems a while back? Did they get that worked out?”
“I don’t think so.” Jesse took a sip of the coffee, which was excellent, and the perfect temperature. So she took another, longer drink. “Did you use the French press?”
Sophia smiled again. “Yes. It really makes a difference, doesn’t it? I’m not as good as Lindsey, yet, but I’m getting better.” The last word rang with a happy lilt, and Jesse laughed.
“Be careful. You don’t want to get stuck with barista duties.”
“I’ll worry about that when Lindsey learns to bake. Now, what has prompted this sudden, crack-of-dawn fishing trip with Winnie?”
“Well, she’s never been one to pour out her problems, so I honestly don’t know. But I got the definite impression that there was something she wanted to talk about today. Something important, and I’m pretty sure our little fishing trip is just an excuse.”
“That would be a logical deduction, since you don’t fish and she knows it. Maybe it’s just easier for her to talk with a fishing pole in her hand.” Sophia picked up the orange roll and handed it to Jesse. “Here, eat this before your coffee gets cold.”
Dutifully, Jesse took a bite and then got completely sidetracked as the orange glaze combined with the delicate yeast roll to melt in her mouth. Chasing it with a gulp of the dark, rich coffee, she took another bite that released a second, unbelievable burst of flavor.
The recipe was one passed down from her grandmother and perfected by her mother. Jesse herself had begun making the orange rolls as part of the breakfast offering at the Gilded Lilly, but Sophia’s were an ambrosia unmatched and on the mornings the orange rolls were made by her, the tearoom’s customers had them gone in the first hour.
Murder, Mayhem and Bliss (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 1) Page 27
