Deadly Notions (13 page)

“Okay . . .”

“I turned around once and didn’t see anyone so I figured I was wrong. Then I heard it again, and just as I was starting to turn around a car pulled into the lot and whoever it was dove behind a parked car.”

“Did you see who it was?”

“No. But they had a knife.”

His eyes widened along with hers. “A knife? Are you sure?”

“It dropped to the g-ground when they d-ducked behind the car. As soon as I saw it, I—I r-ran.” And then the sobbing started, loud racking sobs that left them feeling more than a little helpless.

Tori looked at Milo. “Ask her if she called the police,” she whispered.

The crying stopped. “Is someone there with you?” Beth asked between whimpers.

“I’m with Tori.” He tipped the phone at an angle to make it easier for her to hear. “Did you call the police when this happened?”

Beth sniffed once, then twice. “I th-thought about it. B-but I don’t want any publicity r-right now. Nothing that might d-detract from the unveiling of the designs.”

Tori closed her eyes, recalled the breathtaking dresses the woman had shown her just the previous morning.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Milo asked. “If you’re right, and someone meant you harm this evening, the police really should know.”

“And I’ll tell them. If it happens again,” Beth promised. “But not now, Milo. Please.”

Tori watched as his leg began to bounce ever so slightly, a sure sign Milo was feeling stressed. His words simply served as secondary confirmation. “I don’t know, Beth . . . You’ve got me worried now.”

The sniffing stopped. “You’re worried about me?”

Milo nodded.

“Milo, are you there?”

“Oh. Sorry. Yes. I’m worried about you. How could I not be?”

Beth hiccupped into the phone. “It was scary. So very, very scary. And to tell you the truth, I’m still scared, Milo.” The woman’s voice paused a moment before resurfacing with a noticeable shake. “Do . . . do you think you could come by and take a look? Just to make sure no one is lurking outside my door?”

He raked a hand through his hair then met Tori’s eyes with the question she knew he was hesitant to verbalize. Instead, she beat him to the punch. “Why don’t you go have a look? It’ll make the both of you feel better.”

Covering the phone briefly, he searched her face closely. “Are you sure? You went to so much trouble for this dinner.”

She nodded, her hand finding his free one and holding it close. “I’m sure. It’s the right thing to do, Milo.”

He pulled his hand from the front of the phone and whispered a kiss across her forehead. “I love you, Tori.” To Beth he said, “What room are you in?”

“What room am I in?”

“That’s what I asked.”

For a moment there was nothing. And then, “Oh, c’mon now, Milo . . . you
remember
.”

She stared at Milo, her heart unwilling to consider the implication of the woman’s words. Or the way they resurrected the sound of Leona’s voice in her head.

“No,” he stammered, his face suddenly crimson. “I met you at the restaurant both nights.”

“Oh. Okay, Milo.” A flirty laugh escaped from the phone in much the same manner as an open hand to Tori’s face. “I’m in 3B.”

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

The sudden yet audible smile in the woman’s voice sent a shiver down Tori’s spine, the words that followed kicking off a wave of nausea that was virtually impossible to ignore. “And Milo? I’ll be waiting for you.”

Tori shielded her eyes from the sun and studied the faces of the women who’d become her closest friends over the past year—women who had helped her move forward in a life that was as close to perfect as anyone could ever hope to have.

In fact, each and every member of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle had taught her something.

Rose had taught her what it meant to soldier on despite an aging process that had its own agenda at times.

Debbie had taught her the reality that dreams—no matter how big or how many—could happen if you simply put your mind to it. Owning her own bakery while excelling at her marriage and motherhood was proof of that.

Beatrice had reinforced the importance of not judging a book by its cover. The nanny, although painfully shy, had a heart of gold and some great ideas if one only gave her a chance.

Melissa had shown her that mothering went far beyond kissing boo-boos and getting dinner on the table by six every night, her constant encouragement of each of her seven children a joy to witness.

Georgina had taught her about resilience in the wake of humiliation, her positive spirit despite her former husband’s murder charge nothing short of commendable.

Margaret Louise had taught her about loyalty in a way no one ever had, the woman’s steadfast and unconditional friendship a rarity in a world where everyone seemed to look out for themselves and their best interests.

Leona had taught her the ways of the south—or, rather, the ways of the south according to Leona Elkin. The woman’s on again, off again ornery demeanor simply served as tangible proof that good things came in the most interesting of packages.

Even Dixie had taught her a few things, most noticeably the fact that everyone needed to feel important no matter how young or old they might be.

“Earth to Victoria, earth to Victoria, come in Victoria.”

The sound of her name jolted her back to the here and now—a here and now that had her sitting at one of the bakery’s outdoor tables alongside the rest of the sewing circle.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said by way of a smile at Margaret Louise, the woman’s plump form decked out in one of her trademark polyester warm-up suits, this one in lavender. “Did you say something?”

“I asked if Chief Dallas has paid you another visit.”

“Um, no. Not yet.” Shaking her thoughts into focus, she looked around at her friends. “Has he come to see anyone else?”

All but two hands shot up—hers and Georgina’s.

Her mouth gaped open. “And?”

“He asked about the party and about the things that were said regarding Ashley. You know, the same sorts of things he asked you,” Debbie said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “He talked to Caroline Rowen and Samantha Smith, too.”

“Did you tell him we were just irritated at Ashley’s attitude?”

“We all did, dear. Though I’m not sure what good it’s done.” Leona looked down at the blueberry scone on her plate then pushed it aside. “I don’t know why I order these things.”

“Maybe because they look delicious?” Debbie shook her head, a sparkle in her eye belying the exaggerated hurt in her voice. “Maybe because I made them from scratch while you and the rest of Sweet Briar were catching a few extra hours of beauty rest?”

“Some of us don’t need sleep to achieve that distinction. We simply are.”

Rose snorted from her spot across the table. “Leona, why don’t you wish in one hand, spit in the other, and see which ones gets full faster.”

Tori laughed out loud. “Excuse me? What did you just say, Rose?”

“It’s akin to saying Aunt Leona is spouting something that’s no more than wishful thinking on her part.” Melissa dipped a soft-tipped spoon into a jar of bananas and then brought it to Molly’s lips, the youngest of her brood razzing out as much as she consumed.

Leona made a face as the pale yellow fruit ran back down the baby’s chin. “She’s never going to attract a man that way.”

“I’ll worry about that in, I don’t know, maybe twenty years or so.” Using the edge of the spoon, Melissa collected the missed bananas from Molly’s little chin and redeposited it back in the baby’s mouth.

“As for that expression Rose just uttered, dear”—Leona trained her focus on Tori—“don’t you be adding that to our list of southernisms, understand? That one is just plain ignorant not to mention backwoods.”

“I think
accurate
describes it better, Twin,” Margaret Louise bellowed from her spot on Molly’s other side. “Don’t forget what Grandmammy used to say. ‘The easiest way to eat crow is while it’s still warm, ’cause the colder it gets, the harder it is to swallow.’ ”

“That’s why I preferred Grandfather.” Leona shifted in her seat and directed her attention toward Debbie. “Now don’t get me wrong, Debbie, I think a late morning gathering has potential, but really, if we’re simply going to sit here and listen to the likes of my sister and Rose Winters all morning, I really must be heading out. I have inventory to price at the shop.”

Tori lifted her hot chocolate to-go cup to her lips and took a quick sip. “Did you get a new shipment of antiques?”

Leona nodded. “I did. It’s not big but there are some really exquisite pieces.”

Dixie pushed back her chair and stretched her swollen legs outward. “Why
did
you ask us here, Debbie? Other than to assemble all the suspects in one place should Chief Dallas be hoping for a short workday?”

The bakery owner’s pale blue eyes skittered from one face to the next, her wider than normal smile simply adding to their near constant sparkle. “I have a request I’m hoping you’ll all consider. Something to keep us busy while the vulture circles.”

All eyes turned in Debbie’s direction.

“A sewing request?” Beatrice asked, her soft British accent a nice contrast to the southern drawl that was as much a part of life in Sweet Briar as sweet tea and gossip.

Debbie nodded.

“A group project?”

“Yes, Margaret Louise, a group project.
If
everyone’s willing.” Debbie reached beneath her chair and extracted a small brown felt bag that resembled a child’s lunch sack. Laying it in the middle of the table she stuck her hand inside only to pull out a hand-painted cardboard container.

“What’s that?” Dixie asked as she leaned forward for a closer look.

Rose, too, leaned forward. “Did you make that?”

“I did.” With a quick turn of her hand, Debbie opened the container and began to pull out something resembling potato chips.

Margaret Louise took one in her hand and turned it over. “Felt? You made a potato chip with felt?”

Dixie snatched it from Margaret Louise’s hand and held it in front of her thick glasses. “You’ve even stitched it in such a way to give the chip a curved effect.”

Reaching inside the felt sack once again, Debbie pulled out two pieces of bread and a clump of lettuce.

Melissa stopped feeding Molly long enough to grab hold of the lettuce and turn it over in her hands. “You made play food?”

“It’s cheaper than the store-bought stuff and it allows the kids to have the items they want rather than what is dictated by some company.” Debbie turned the sack upside down to reveal a slice of ham, two tomatoes, and a brownie. “Suzanna and Jackson love to play with this stuff.”

“It’s darling,” Tori said. “Absolutely darling.”

“Thanks, Victoria.” Debbie swept her hand across the contents of the felt lunch sack. “This is just some of the food I’ve made with felt for the kids. They have pizza, pancakes, cake, hamburgers with all the trimmings, peanut butter sandwiches . . . you name it. And all it takes to make it is a little creativity, various colors of craft felt, a simple pattern you can draw up on your own, and either a needle and thread or a machine depending on what you’re doing.”

“So what do you need from us?” Dixie asked between bites of her cinnamon crumb cake. “Do you want us to help you stock Suzanna and Jackson’s toy closet even more?”

Margaret Louise rushed to soften Dixie’s question. “Because we will if you need us to.”

Debbie shook her head. “I’ve already made enough for the kids. But the other day, Colton Granger came into Jake’s garage. He had a flat tire that needed patching.”

“I heard, through the grapevine, that Colton is out of work,” Rose said.

Beatrice nodded. “I saw his wife, Eloise, at the playground day before last and she said the same thing. People aren’t fixing up their homes these days and Colton’s boss doesn’t have the funds to employee him any longer.”

“Such a shame,” Dixie mused. “It’s hard to see folks out of work like that—whether there’s simply no work for them or they’re forced out to make room for younger, cheaper employees.”

Leona met Tori’s gaze before rolling her eyes skyward. “You watch, she’ll stick to it until the last pea is out of the pot.”

A gasp rang up around the table.

“Why, Aunt Leona, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you just used one of Margaret Louise’s expressions,” Melissa chided.

The woman’s face drained of all color. “I—I did no such thing . . .” The words trailed from Leona’s mouth as Tori laughed out loud.

“It’s okay, Leona, every dog ought to have a few fleas now and again, isn’t that right, Dixie?” Rose winked at Tori before turning her focus on the retired librarian. “Dixie?”

The elderly woman with the crop of snow-white hair looked up, the expression behind her glasses hard to decipher. “Colton and Eloise have young-uns, don’t they?”