A Seamless Murder

by Melissa Bourbon

  He glanced back at the yard. “Should have tried harder when Delta was here. He blows with the wind, passionate about one thing today, and something else tomorrow. But, yeah, he’s doing a good job now.”

  Maybe everyone should have tried a little harder when Delta was here, I thought, but I kept it to myself.

  “I’m awfully sorry for your loss, Mr. Mobley.”

  He made a gruff sound and swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down in his throat. Anson wasn’t Hollywood gorgeous, but he was attractive. He was on the short side, probably about five foot eight. With the low heels of my boots, we were at eye level with each other. He had a wide mouth, which threw off the equilibrium of his face, and with his persistent frown, he looked ready to bite off someone’s head. The breeze rustled his dark hair, a healthy spattering of gray at the temples making him look older than he might have otherwise. He had to be in his mid-fifties, but the weariness around his eyes added ten years.

  I nodded to the suitcase and duffle bag. “Are you going out of town?”

  His whole face tensed. “No. I just need space. Time alone. My wife, she wasn’t always easy to live with, but God almighty, I . . . I . . . I loved her.”

  Emotion laced his words, and I felt his anger, loss, and frustration as if they were heavy clouds pressing down on us. I wasn’t sure what to make of his emotions. My guess was that Delta and Anson, like most couples, had a complicated relationship. At one time she thought he was cheating on her, after all. I imagined saying Delta wasn’t easy to live with was akin to saying Texas has a couple of snakes. The truth is, I suspected that, at times, Delta had been at least a Category Four hurricane, and Texas has sixty-eight species of snakes, fifteen of them venomous.

  I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. True to human nature, he filled in the empty space. “Do you know that my wife hired a private investigator to follow me? She thought she’d uncovered some deep, dark secret. An affair.” He raked one hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “Horseshit.”

  Denial, straight from his mouth. “So you didn’t have an affair? You’re not having one?” I asked.

  He leveled his fiery gaze at me. “An affair? No way, nohow.”

  A second passed and he seemed to come back to his right mind, blinking heavily. His neck and ears turned red, and he backed away. “I need to apologize, Ms. Cassidy. I don’t know what came over me, telling you all that. Please forgive me.”

  He loaded up his bags and sped off, leaving me staring after him.

  I’d forgive him, all right. In fact, I thought I could discount him as a suspect in Delta’s murder, which filled me with relief. But eliminating Anson didn’t point me in the direction of anyone else. Delta’s killer was out there, and as of now, I was still completely in the dark.

  Chapter 18

  I’d spent the night contemplating every possible motive for Delta’s murder. Anson wasn’t having an affair, which meant none of the Red Hat ladies were mistresses. That eliminated their possible motives. Jeremy Lisle still seemed like the strongest suspect. There had been no love lost between him and Delta, and whether it was true or not, he thought she’d been trying to undermine his run for mayor.

  I hadn’t rustled up any viable motives for Pastor Kyle or Mayor Radcliffe, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. A new idea niggled in the back of my mind. Could it have been Sherri who killed Delta? I ticked off the possible reasons on my fingers.

  1) Coco and Delta had been thick as thieves as kids, leaving Sherri on the outs. She could have harbored a lot of old bitterness that had finally erupted;

  2) Whatever discovery Sherri had made, causing her to leave that message in the teapot, could have caused a huge rift. Again, Sherri may have sought revenge or restitution;

  3) Sherri’s grief, given her distant relationship with her sister, seemed almost over the top. Guilty conscience?

  I hadn’t been able to discern any other motives for the Red Hat ladies. They all seemed fond of Delta, and their friendships spanned decades. The rest of Delta’s family was hell-bent on finding out the truth, led by Coco, so I saw no motive there.

  I sighed, defeated. I’d finished the last two aprons, the progressive dinner was set to begin, and I was no closer to the truth.

  “Don’t take it personally, Cassidy,” Will said. Coco had told me I could bring a guest, and I’d roped Will into it. He’d given in pretty willingly, though. Free food and an evening with you? Wouldn’t miss it, he had said.

  He looked dapper in his dark jeans, cowboy boots, and white button-down shirt. He’d left his cowboy hat at home so that his dark hair and swarthy skin shimmering in the moonlight. “The sheriff’ll find whoever killed Delta. You did everything you could. It’s better this way, anyway. You can get back to your dressmaking.”

  I had done everything I could, but I still felt as if I’d failed. There had been so few clues to follow that I felt as if I’d flitted around without purpose or direction. I’d let Coco down. Sometimes, I realized, my best just wasn’t good enough.

  The first stop on the progressive dinner route was Georgia Emmons’s house. “The way it works,” Coco had told me the day before, “is that whoever’s hosting a stop sets up their house for the course they’re serving. You have to be organized so you can leave your house and go along to the other stops on the dinner.”

  “And if you’re not organized?”

  “That would defeat the whole purpose of the night. We’re not showboating. Most of us, anyway,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes. “It’s just about spending time together with our friends and family.”

  “Oh, so other people outside the group are invited?” This was my first progressive dinner, and it was a brand-new experience.

  “A few. Cynthia always likes to shake things up, no matter what the occasion.”

  “So who else is coming besides the Red Hat ladies?”

  “Jeremy Lisle and the pastor.”

  Interesting. For a brief while, I’d forgotten that the pastor had been the one to tell Jeremy that Delta suspected Anson of having an affair. Had he known that Delta and Jeremy weren’t on friendly terms? If he’d killed Delta over their differences, he may have hoped to pin it all on Anson.

  “Cynthia likes to stir the pot,” Coco said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “There are always people who do.” It made sense to me. Why else would Cynthia have invited someone Delta didn’t get along with to a Red Hat event?

  Just before Will had arrived to pick me up, I’d grabbed the three small brown gift bags, each tied with a strand of burgundy checkered ribbon, that contained Jessie Pearl’s, Megan’s, and Cynthia’s aprons. Coco had delivered the rest of them. These were the last of them. For the dinner, I’d brushed my hair back, trying a new, straight style. I’d switched to my iridescent blue-framed glasses to better complement the pale periwinkle wrap dress I’d chosen for the evening. I’d made it more than a year ago, but it was a timeless piece that I could dress up or down, wear with sandals, heels, or boots, add a gold necklace or a leather strap, put my hair up or down. The possibilities were endless.

  The poet sleeves were flirty and made me feel like I should be running through a field of wildflowers, and the long skirt, ending mid-calf, was feminine. I adored it, but kept it for special events. Will had never seen me in it, and my heart beat a little faster than normal in anticipation of his reaction.

  I’d considered going for comfort by wearing my burnt-red harness boots, but instead, I went with the already feminine vibe I was feeling and put on strappy heels. They’d bring me closer to Will’s height, and while I was still hoping I might be able to solve a murder tonight, I also planned to take full advantage of my night out with the man I loved. Come hell or high water, I’d make sure we got some time alone.

  I hurried next door, turning onto the brick walkway leading up to the front door. Todd had lined the path with paper lanterns, and it looked just as magical as he’d described it. He hadn’t lit them y
et, but I could imagine candles flickering as the sun set in the west. Twinkle lights sparkled in the branches of the trees. They’d hung a dried hydrangea wreath on the front door. It looked warm and welcoming and not at all like a house with the pall of death still hovering over it.

  I knocked on the front door, gift bags in hand. Megan answered it, her face drawn and pale. Instead of inviting me in, she stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “God, you look gorgeous,” she said, giving me a once-over. “Is that one of your designs?”

  I smiled, resisting the urge to spin around like a princess. “It is. Megan, you have to come over to Buttons and Bows sometime.”

  “I can’t afford custom designs, Harlow.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I said, “but I have quite a few ready-to-wear designs. I know there are some things you’d love.”

  Her chin quivered. “But my mom . . .”

  She trailed off, the sentence unfinished, but I could guess what she was thinking. Her mother was dead, so how could she think about fashion and pretty dresses and dinner parties?

  I took her hand. “Megan, your mother would want you to be happy.”

  A harsh laugh escaped her lips. “She didn’t always want me to be happy when she was alive, but she does from the afterlife?”

  The moment the words left her lips, she broke down sobbing, big tears spilling over her cheeks. “I didn’t mean that!” She turned away from me, leaning her forehead against the doorframe. “Oh God, what kind of daughter am I?”

  I put my hand on her shoulder, hoping my touch could offer her a small amount of comfort in her grief. “You lost your mother,” I said. “Your dad’s moved out. You’ve got all kinds of emotions to deal with. You don’t have to hold it all in, Megan.”

  “I know you said he didn’t have an affair, but what if she was right?” She looked over her shoulder, as if someone might jump out at her and whisk her away from voicing her thoughts. “What if he’s not a good man?” she asked, her voice scarcely more than a whisper.

  “Whatever happened between your parents has nothing to do with how much your dad loves you,” I said. “He loved your mother.”

  She nodded, and I could almost see her mind at work as she tried to convince herself that her mother had been wrong about her father. She swept her fingers under her eyes, whisking away her tears. “Are those the aprons?” she asked, her gaze flashing to the bags I held.

  “Yes.” I handed her one of them. “This one’s yours.”

  She untied the ribbon, pulling the apron out. I took the bag from her so she could get a proper look. “Wow!” She beamed at the off-white garment, fingering the prairie ruffles and the handmade fabric flower, her whole face lighting up. “I love it, Harlow. It’s exactly what I would have picked if I’d seen it in a store.”

  She tied it around her waist. It was a good contrast against the small flowers of her nondescript dress. I gave her arm a squeeze as I said, “You ready for tonight?”

  “As much as I can be.”

  I handed her the bag for Jessie Pearl. “So I’ll see you at Georgia’s?”

  She drew in a deep breath, slowly letting it out through her nose, and nodded. “We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  I left her with a good-bye and made my way back to my property.

  The air was cool, and wearing my heels and dress, a chill wound through me. I had just made it to the front arbor separating my yard from the sidewalk when Will pulled up in his shiny white truck. I waited as he rolled to a stop right in front of the house. His eyes roved over me as he got out and moseyed around the front of the truck. “Cassidy, you are a sight to behold.”

  I felt the heat of a blush on my cheeks, but another chill brushed over my skin. “What, in this old thing?” I said, a flirtatious note in my voice.

  “Yep, in that old thing. Which, by the way, has got to be just about the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen you in.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Flores,” I said, smiling up at him.

  He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “Is it one of your designs?” he asked, his lips brushing mine.

  I draped my arms around his neck, sinking into him. “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And you made it for yourself?” he asked, his voice rumbling against my mouth.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “So a deep wish of yours will come true?”

  My lips curved into a smile against his. “All my wishes have already come true. I have you and Gracie, Buttons and Bows is doing well, and I’m back in Bliss with my family. I don’t think there’s another thing I could ask for.”

  He smiled, too. “No?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Not even some good food tonight?”

  I laughed. “I don’t need my charm to ensure that’ll happen. There’ll be plenty of good food tonight—that’s a given.”

  “Then what? You must have a wish.”

  I thought about it. “To figure out who killed Delta, and why,” I said.

  He nodded, one side of his mouth lifting in a mischievous grin. Which was his usual state. He always looked like he was up to something. “Then let’s get going,” he said, “because tonight’s the night. Your wish is going to come true.”

  Chapter 19

  Georgia Emmons and her husband lived in a modest brick and stone house in the Ranch Hills neighborhood in Bliss. The yard was trimmed and tidy, two rows of manicured hedges lining the walkway to the front door. Inside was just as neat. “Refined” was the best way to describe Georgia’s taste. The sofa and chairs were covered in high-end fabrics. The coffee table and curio cabinets were made from a rich mahogany wood, polished to a high sheen, the glass cutouts crystal clear and without a single fingerprint or streak.

  I tended toward rustic and old-fashioned for my own home, but I could appreciate the look Georgia had gone for. It fit her and her coiffed image. As we walked toward the dining room, I saw the other Red Hat ladies and their husbands. It looked like Will and me, and Megan, Todd, and Jessie Pearl, who hadn’t yet arrived, were the stragglers. Everyone else was here, including the invited guests, Jeremy Lisle and Pastor Kyle. The whole cast of suspects in Delta’s death, at least as far as I’d been able to surmise. I suddenly felt as if I were in an Agatha Christie book. I wanted to flip to the front page and see the write-ups of each person. Would it help me understand any of them any better?

  Will and I passed a curio cabinet lined with trophies, brochures, sashes, and tiaras. Beauty pageant paraphernalia, courtesy of Georgia Emmons’s lifetime spent in competition. I pulled Will to a stop so I could take a gander. From the looks of it, she’d competed in pageants her entire life, beginning with a Miss Texas Child when she couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, and ending with the Ms. Senior Texas America Pageant just last year where she’d been first runner-up. I never watched beauty pageants on TV, so they were far outside my radar, but I couldn’t help but admire Georgia for her accomplishments.

  “It was quite a competition last year,” a voice said from behind us. Georgia appeared, continuing to speak. “Myra Blanton’s been part of the pageant behind the scenes for twenty years. She’s competed before but took quite a few years off. Came back this year and took the whole shebang.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t win,” I said.

  Where most women I’d encountered might have shrugged or frowned, Georgia’s smile grew. “It happens.”

  Something about her smile sent off a warning signal in my brain. She was practiced at hiding her true feelings.

  “So you’ll compete again this year?” Will asked.

  She looked up at him, her smile broadening. “Without question,” she said as she held her hand out to him. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Georgia Emmons.”

  “Will Flores,” he said, taking her hand. “I’d say you were robbed last year. I can’t imagine Myra Blanton holding a candle to you.”

  I stifled a grin. Will was charming, and first runner-up to Ms. Senior Texas America
or not, Georgia Emmons wasn’t immune. She fluttered her eyelashes, glancing away coquettishly. With her dropped-ruffle apron over a solid red knit dress, she looked radiant. She was all glamour, and right now she was in top form. “You’re awfully kind to say so, Mr. Flores. I learned long ago that you have to deal with ups and downs in the pageant circuit. That being said, I will admit that it’s never easy to lose. If there’s something I want, I’ll fight for it.” She winked at Will. “Myra had better watch her back.”

  A chill went up my spine, and for a split second, I wondered if Delta and Georgia had ever been on opposing sides of anything.

  “My word, where are my manners?” she said suddenly. “You both need a glass of wine. Or would you prefer beer?” she asked Will, cocking her head slightly. She was an expert at flirtation. I was sure I could learn from her, if flirting were on my list of things to master. Flutter the eyelashes. Cock the head. Smile slightly. Brush your fingertips over the man’s sleeve. All things Georgia had done in the past couple of minutes while talking with Will and me. I was included in the conversation, but Will was the focus.

  “A beer would be great,” he said. His smile was sincere, but he’d put a bit of restraint into it. He wasn’t encouraging Georgia, harmless as she seemed.

  She turned, flagging down a tall, silver-haired man sporting a thick mustache. “Wayne, be a doll and get this young man a beer.”

  Wayne nodded obligingly, altering his course to the dining room and heading to the kitchen instead. “Red or white?” Georgia asked me.

  “Red, please,” I said. She disappeared into the dining room, returning a moment later with a wineglass just as Wayne came in from the kitchen carrying a green glass bottle of beer.

  Georgia led us into the living room, calling to the rest of the Red Hat ladies, their husbands, and the guests to join us. Megan, Todd, and Jessie Pearl had arrived right behind us, and when everyone had gathered and Jessie Pearl was settled in a chair, Georgia cleared her throat, garnering everyone’s attention.