“Most everyone’s on the porch,” said Delta. “Let’s sit back here.” She nodded towards the table on the far side of the room.
I took the back chair, facing the room. After we’d settled in and tasted a few bites, I said, “Clint told me Shelby was working on book club business in her library the night she was killed. You’re president now. What kinds of things would she have been doing?”
“In December, she would likely have been typing up the list of books we’d decided on for the new year, and where we were going to purchase them. Since we never got it, I assume that’s what she was working on.”
“So you choose your books a year in advance.”
“That’s right. We have a meeting and everyone makes suggestions. We discuss them and take a vote.”
“What did you mean by ‘where you were going to purchase them?’” I asked.
“Well, we generally try to support independent book stores. Each of us adopts one of the SIBA stores—that’s Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance—and for that year we order our books from that store. This year I’m ordering from Quail Ridge Books and Music in Raleigh.”
“Was there anything controversial about the books or stores? Anything anyone might’ve been upset about?”
“No, not at all. The only controversy we have is over the waiting list.” She sighed heavily, moved food around on her plate. “That’s going to be an ugly mess. I had hoped not to deal with it today. But with Shelby gone, someone moves off the wait list and joins the club. I’ve put off dealing with this as long as I can. Mary wants that person to be Angela, and of course she’s here, which makes it awkward.”
“Angela’s not at the top of the list, is she?”
“No.” Delta shook her head. “That’s Mariel’s friend, Nerissa Long. She’s sweet as sugar and has been waiting years. But she’s heartbroken that she’s taking Shelby’s place. She offered to give her spot to Angela just to avoid taking Shelby’s spot. And of course she knows about the controversy. But we just can’t do that.”
“Why not, if that’s what Nerissa wants?”
Delta sipped her tea. “Because Nerissa will be our first black member. I will not have our club even appear to be anything less than welcoming to Nerissa.”
“Does that bother anyone?” I asked.
“You mean that she’s black? No, of course not. We’re all friends with Nerissa. But if we skip over her, even at her request, some people would see it as racist.”
“Just to be clear, before there was an opening—when Shelby planned to bring it to a vote to allow Angela to come off the waiting list—Shelby wasn’t in favor of skipping over Nerissa, was she?”
“Oh my goodness, no. Shelby would never have allowed that. She agreed to entertain a motion from Mary to allow the next two people on the waiting list, Nerissa and Angela to join the club. Someone would’ve had to have seconded the motion, and then there would’ve been a vote.”
“You said Nerissa has been on the waiting list for years.”
“That’s right.”
“How long has Angela been on it?”
“About as long—several years.”
“So she was on the waiting list for the club before she was engaged to Mary Bernard’s son?”
“Oh my, yes, long before that.”
“Then this isn’t something she’s doing to please her future mother-in-law?”
“No, no.”
“And you’re not going to have a vote on letting Angela join as well?”
“No. I know that’s what Shelby had planned. I loved Shelby, but I didn’t agree with her on this. Our book club is more than a hundred years old. Several of our great-grandmothers started it. We have traditions. If we start changing things, some people will like some of the things, but others won’t. There will be drama. The only way to keep us from quarreling is to leave things as they are.”
“But won’t there be a quarrel about that?” I asked.
“Mary won’t agree with it, but as long as we don’t change anything else, she’ll let it go. I hope. Shelby was more open to change than most of our members. Mary knew that, and I personally think she was taking advantage of her. I’m just trying to keep the peace and do the right thing.”
“I wish you luck with that,” I said. “If it had come to a vote, would Mary have gotten her way?”
Delta raised both shoulders. “Who knows? Mary has friends who she may have persuaded to vote her way. Or it may have just ended up embarrassing poor Angela because it didn’t pass. It’s better to just leave things as they are.”
I said, “Your book club is fascinating. I confess I’ve never been to one quite like it. I’m very impressed. Someone mentioned you have a treasurer. Do you all pay dues?”
“We do, and we have quarterly fundraisers. Usually it’s a wine auction or a vacation raffle—something like that. We donate the money to various groups that support literacy.”
“What a fabulous idea. You all are very industrious. Have you had any issues with the money—who to give it to, some going missing—anything like that?” Money was a reliable troublemaker.
“Never.”
I took a bite of a cucumber sandwich. We ate for a few minutes, and then I said, “There’s one other thing I wanted to ask you about. I understand you mentioned to the previous investigators that Shelby spoke a lot about Sonny Ravenel. Do you have any ideas as to the nature of their relationship?”
Delta’s cheeks went pink. “All I know is that Shelby mentioned his name often. She’d repeat things he said—funny things. Sometimes she’d tell me stories about how he’d helped someone. I know they both volunteered at One80Place. That was Shelby’s favorite charity. I guess that gave them a lot in common.”
“Do you think there was more to their relationship than a common interest?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Delta’s voice held frustration and despair. “If I did know, I would tell you. Shelby was very private. I can tell you they had lunch together regularly. She admired him. Beyond that, I have no idea.”
“Did she talk about Sonny as much as she talked about Clint?”
Delta’s brow wrinkled. “No, not at all. Shelby talked about Clint all the time. My impression is that she loved him very much.”
“So you didn’t suggest to Paul Baker that Shelby was having an affair with Sonny?”
“Good Heavens, no. I would never imply such a thing. That pesky vulgarian kept at me until I came up with the name of a man Shelby knew. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
Interesting. Had Baker stretched what Delta said to justify chasing the affair theory?
“One more thing, Delta,” I said. “Please don’t take offense, but for my files, I need to check everyone off. Where were you the night Shelby died?”
“Me?” Delta leaned back and blinked. “Why, I was here at home with my boys.”
“Oh, you have children. How old are they?”
“Fourteen and fifteen.”
“How nice to have family time over the holidays. I hope your husband didn’t have to travel like poor Jane’s.”
Delta flushed. “My former husband’s affairs are no concern of mine.”
“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know.” I would’ve found out, given another day to research all these people.
“Don’t give it a thought. How would you have known?”
I smiled a small sheepish smile.
Erin Guidici entered the room, scanned it with her eyes, then approached our table. “Excuse me, y’all. Liz, could I have a word with you in private?”
“Certainly.” I looked at Delta. “I’ll be right back.”
I followed Erin through the foyer, up three steps to a landing, then up a half-flight of stairs to a second landing. Anne and the other Liz waited there.
I joined their huddle.
>
Erin said, “We hate to mention this. It could be nothing.”
Anne looked doubtful. “It’s not nothing.”
“Just tell her,” said the other Liz.
Erin said, “There was something going on between Angela McConnell and Shelby.”
I scrunched my face at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know,” Anne said. “Angela is dying to join book club. And I guess she wanted to talk to Shelby about it. We had book club at Shelby’s house in December, in the evening. That was our tradition. Shelby loved Christmas, and she loved having lots of candlelight.”
“Most everyone had left,” said Liz. “We were saying goodbye to the dogs and Belly—she’s a potbellied pig. They were in the guest room up on the third floor. Jane told us later that as she was leaving, Angela came by and asked to speak with Shelby privately. We’d already gone upstairs at that point.”
Erin and Anne looked at Liz, as if to encourage her to finish the story.
Liz threw up both hands, fingers spread. “When we were coming back down to the second floor, we overheard Angela and Shelby arguing in the library. We stopped on the stairs.”
“What were they arguing about?” I asked.
The other Liz said, “We couldn’t make out what they were saying at first. Then we heard Shelby say, ‘How could you?’ She sounded real hurt. Maybe crying.”
Anne jumped in. “Then Angela said, ‘No one has to know your dirty little secret. How, and with who, you’ve been spending your afternoons. My, my, Shelby Poinsett. What would people say?’ Her voice was all hateful. She was taunting Shelby.”
Erin said, “And then she said, ‘All you have to do is bring this thing to a vote. And, naturally, vote in favor of letting me in. Convince the others it’s the right thing to do. Like I said, no one has to know. It’s all in your hands.’”
Damnation. Definitely blackmail. An affair. Please don’t let it be Sonny.
Erin said, “Then Angela came stalking out of the room, ran down the steps, and blew out the front door. She never even looked our way.”
Anne said, “We slipped back up the stairs into the guest room with the pets. We didn’t want to embarrass Shelby by letting on we’d overheard. After a few minutes we came back out and said bye to her. We could tell something was wrong, but of course we didn’t mention anything.”
“Have y’all reported this to anyone else?” I asked.
“No,” Erin said. “It seemed like…you know, just book club drama. Nothing that the police would be interested in. And no one’s ever asked us a thing.”
The other Liz said, “But since you’re here, and you did say we might know something but not realize it was important…We talked about it and decided you should determine if it was important or not.”
“Think hard,” I said. “Was that everything you heard?”
“Yes,” said the other Liz. “We’ve gone over it several times.”
“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “It might not be related to Shelby’s death. But on the other hand, it could be. If you think of anything else, please call me.”
“I just feel so relieved,” said Erin.
“You did the right thing,” I said. “Hey, where were y’all on December 28—the night Shelby was killed? I have to document where all her friends were.”
Erin spoke for the group. “We were all at my house, having a dinner party. Our husbands were there, and two other couples. Would you like their names?” Her tone let me know she offered as a formality and fully expected me to say that wouldn’t be necessary.
“That’d be great, thanks.” I offered her my sunniest smile.
She rattled off a couple of mister and missuses.
“Would you text me those names and phone numbers, please? Thank you so much. I need to get back downstairs.”
I was on the first landing when I heard the sound of glass breaking.
“Oh, Lord Jesus, save me!” The cry came from the back of the house.
I darted into the dining room, then stepped through the door to the left of the fireplace into the kitchen.
A black woman in khakis and a polo shirt, with an elaborate hairdo made up of baby dreads, was backed up against the oversized refrigerator. Broken china littered the tile floor around her. Her eyes were large with fright.
Colleen was on the other side of the island. She’d morphed back to where only I could see her. I assumed the plate and glass on the counter were hers.
“You must be Francina,” I said.
The lady in front of the refrigerator nodded.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
She shook her head vigorously.
Colleen said, “I slipped in here to eat. When she came in from the hallway, I dematerialized. But I didn’t set my plate and glass down quite fast enough. I didn’t mean to scare her.”
Delta burst into the room, follow by Jane, and as many of the other ladies as would fit. “Francina, what’s wrong?”
“I went out to clear the dishes on the porch. I came back in with a stack of plates, and…I know this sounds crazy, but that plate and glass on the island? They were floating in the air, like someone was holding them. And then they just floated onto the island, all by themselves. I’m so sorry about your beautiful china. I’ll replace it.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Delta. “Have you had your lunch yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“I bet your blood sugar’s dropped. Here, sit down and let me fix you a plate.” She led Francina to the kitchen table.
Francina kept staring at the plate on the island.
Delta raised her voice. “Everything’s fine. Everyone please go back to the living room. I’ll be right in.”
Slowly, with a lack of enthusiasm, the ladies evacuated the kitchen.
I hung back.
Colleen said, “I don’t want Delta to not believe her. And I don’t want that poor woman to feel like she needs to replace all that expensive china.”
What are you planning to—
Colleen picked up the plate and glass.
Francina pointed.
Delta turned to look.
She gasped and her eyes went wide. “What in this world?”
“Delta,” I said, “it’s possible you have a ghost in the house. But it seems like a harmless one, if a bit mischievous.”
“Shelby?” said Delta.
“Oh Lord Jesus,” said Francina. “Is that you, Miss Shelby?”
“It could be,” I said. “Have you ever had anything like this happen before?”
“Never,” said Delta.
Colleen set the dish and glass on the counter.
Delta and Francina gasped and jumped a little.
“I wonder if she’s trying to tell us something,” said Delta.
“If only she could,” I said.
Colleen, I’m going to leave. Sit in on the meeting. Stay as long as you can, and tell me what they talk about after I’m gone.
“I guess I owe you that much,” said Colleen.
Delta said, “I need to get back to the meeting. Francina, go on up to the front guest room. I’ll fix you a plate and bring it up.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Francina backed out of the room.
“Why don’t you let me fix her a plate?” I said. “I’ll take it up and just slip out after I get her settled. I think I have what I need.”
“That’s probably for the best,” said Delta. “The business meeting is next, and we don’t need to air our dirty laundry in front of you. Thank you for taking care of Francina.”
“My pleasure.”
Delta headed towards the pass-through to the dining room.
Colleen…
“I’m on it.”
I piled Francina’s plate high and
took it upstairs with a glass of the peach tea. She seemed to be recovering. She’d quickly attached to the idea that the ghost was Shelby. She knew Shelby meant her no harm.
“Thank you, Miss Liz,” she said.
“My pleasure. Can I get you anything else?”
“No ma’am. I’ll be fine.”
“All right then. Bye now.” I stepped out of the guest room and pulled the door closed. This was a golden opportunity to snoop. See if Delta was the genteel lady she seemed to be, or perhaps the mean-spirited zombie-alien-Sasquatch crazy I’d first suspected her of being.
Just as the door clicked shut, Francina called out. “Miss Liz?”
I opened the door. “Yes, Francina. What is it?”
“Would you please leave the door open? Just in case…”
“Of course.”
Damnation.
I smiled. “Is there a powder room on this floor?”
“No ma’am. But there’s one downstairs just off the hall.”
“Thanks.” The way the room was situated, Francina would see if I did anything but go back downstairs. Reluctantly, I moved towards the steps. I smiled and waved as I descended.
Francina waved back, smiling.
When I made it to the first landing, I could hear the minutes from the last meeting being read. Hell fire. I was going to have to go back into the room and get my purse. I padded towards the living room. Then I noticed my purse on the round table in the center of the foyer. Delta must’ve set it there for me. I picked it up and cast a glance into the living room as I walked by.
Colleen was on the job. She’d returned to her perch on the mantel.
I let myself out the front door and made my way back to the parking garage. As I set my purse on the passenger seat, I noticed a folded piece of ivory paper in the outside pocket.
I slipped it out and unfolded it. The unsigned note said, “It’s possible Delta has a crush on Clint Gerhardt.”
And just like that, we had one more potential motive.
In sorting through the web of possible motives friends, family, and fond acquaintances might’ve had to kill Shelby, we’d somehow failed to consider what should’ve been obvious.
LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB Page 11
