Deadly Notions (18 page)

“Chief Dallas?” she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

He cocked his eyebrow. “Is that the correct answer?”

“No. But it’s the answer you want, isn’t it?” She flipped over the top page of the notebook to reveal a second page of notes—observations and questions she and Melissa had drafted after they’d had their moment of fun.

“Not really. I want the answer that goes with you. And after what happened with you and the Tiffany Ann Gilbert case, and Colby’s disappearance last year, and then Kenny Murdock a few months ago, I know better than to think you’ll leave the investigation to the police.”

She turned her palms upward and swept them above the notebook. “How can I when my friends are involved?”

“I get it, Tori. I really do.” He pointed to the notebook. “So show me what you’ve got so far. Maybe I can add or discount something you and Melissa might not know.”

Nodding, she began pointing out each name on the list.

“First there’s me.”

Milo scrunched up his eyebrows and leaned close. “Did you kill Ashley?”

She nibbled back the grin that threatened to derail their conversation. “Although the notion was tempting from a frustrated kind of way, no. And I was actually the only person at that party who didn’t say I wanted to kill her.”

“Okay.”

Her finger slid to the next name. “There’s Melissa. She was fed up with Ashley but not in an angry way. She was more harried from trying to jump through hoops she felt were necessary in order to ensure Sally’s party would pass muster with Penelope and her mom.”

“And Melissa doesn’t really seem to know how to be angry.” He raked his hand through his hair then reached for the bakery bag he’d set on the table. “In all the years I’ve known her and Jake, I’ve never seen her get angry with any of those kids. And she’s got
seven
.”

“Agreed. So the notion that she could wrap a rope around another human being’s neck and pull it until the person stops breathing is ludicrous.” She pointed to the next name. “And then there’s Beatrice.”

“I think she’s even less likely. She’s about as meek as they come.”

She considered Milo’s words. “I agree. Especially after seeing her at the party. Ashley ordered Beatrice around as if she worked for Ashley rather than one of Ashley’s friends. And Beatrice did it, like she was
supposed
to.” A memory filtered through her thoughts, making her pose another possibility aloud. “Then again, she
was
upset when Ashley questioned the manner in which she’d dressed Luke for the party.”

“Angry upset or sad upset?”

It was a good question—one that made her stop and think.

“I’d say more toward the sad. Beatrice takes great pride in the way she cares for that little boy. I think having Ashley question that made her second-guess herself more than it made her angry.”

“So you’re fairly confident she’s a no, too?” Milo asked.

She nodded. “The same goes for Debbie. I mean, she was furious when Ashley refused to have Penelope seated next to Jackson at the birthday table but—”

“Jackson? Are you kidding me? You’d be hard-pressed to find a nicer kid than Jackson Calhoun.” Milo rolled his eyes skyward. “I just don’t get adults sometimes.”

“I know. But Jackson basically paid homage to Sally and her party, which didn’t sit well with Ashley.”

Milo held the bakery bag in the air and cocked his head toward the logo. “A woman who makes muffins like Debbie does isn’t capable of murder. Not unless her family was threatened.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Threatened with
physical
harm,” he rushed to amend.

“I agree.” Her gaze strayed down to the next name. “Okay, next we have Margaret Louise.”

Milo’s hand paused on the open bag. “You don’t sound as confident about her.”

“Oh, I am, from the standpoint I believe she didn’t do it but . . .” Her words trailed off as he pulled a blueberry muffin from the bag and set it on a napkin in front of her spot. “That looks good.”

“I’m glad.” He reached into the bag again and extracted a large to-go cup. “And your hot chocolate.”

“Thank you.” Looking down at the cup, she willed her thoughts back to the subject at hand, the guilt she felt over doubting Milo making it difficult to think. “But she was the most vocal about wishing she could strangle Ashley. She said it before the party to Melissa, she said it at the sewing circle meeting prior to the party, and she said it under her breath more than a few times at the actual party itself. Though it was always on the heels of something truly nasty Ashley said or did.”

“Yet you don’t think she’s a viable suspect?”

She stared at Milo as he pulled his own muffin from the bag. “And you could think otherwise? C’mon, Milo, you know Margaret Louise. She may grumble when her family comes under fire and she may be overly protective of her grandkids, but she’s also one of the most genuine people on the face of the earth. She wouldn’t take someone’s life.”

“I know. I just felt I should ask.”

“Well, she’s innocent. But my worry is about the stress Chief Dallas will heap on her thanks to the conversations Regina Murphy no doubt shared.” She lifted the muffin to her mouth and took a small bite. “Which moves us still further down the list to”—she looked at the page for confirmation—“Leona.”

“Leona,” Milo echoed. “Tell me again why she was even at Sally’s party? She’s not exactly what could be called a fan of little kids.”

Tori shrugged. “But she’s Sally’s great aunt and Melissa’s aunt-in-law and, well, she’s nosy. I suspect she wanted to see the woman she’d been hearing about at our sewing circle.”

“Ashley?”

“Ashley,” she confirmed. “The stuff Margaret Louise shared about her was the reason the next two showed up as well.”

She followed Milo’s gaze back to the notebook. “Rose and Dixie?”

“Rose was disgusted by Ashley’s behavior, there’s no doubt about that. But she can also barely open her sewing box by herself let alone hold a rope around the neck of a woman half her age.”

“And Dixie?”

“Dixie is Dixie. She doesn’t act like she likes anyone.”

“Throw in the fact she had an ax to grind with the victim and, well, that ups her dislike factor immensely.”

She stared at Milo. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing major, but certainly a reason Dixie knew and disliked Ashley Lawson.” Milo plucked a small cup of coffee from the bag and lifted it to his lips, his eyes closing momentarily as he took a long gulp.

“I’m not following.”

He shrugged. “A month or so after she retired from the library, Dixie showed up at a school board meeting asking if she could come in as a reader. She felt her experience as a librarian over the past four decades made her a natural with kids.”

“Go on,” she prompted, her curiosity aroused.

“At first the board members seemed to like the idea. They even tossed around the idea of maybe paying her a little money to come in a few times a week. Just to assist with the kids in some of the younger grades—kids who might really have benefited from a little extra reading assistance.”

“Okay.”

“Then they changed their mind.”

Tori leaned forward. “Why? It seems like it could have been a win-win for Dixie and the teachers.”

“It was. Only the teachers weren’t asked for input. The board made the final decision. And according to a few of my sources, there was one member who felt Dixie was too old and too negative to work with the children.”

She felt her mouth gape open. “She may be negative with adults but have you seen her with kids? She’s amazing.”

Milo nodded then followed the gesture up with a theatric shrug. “This particular board member based her decision on Dixie’s appearance and demeanor in the room at the time of the request.”

“And this board member was . . .” she prompted with the help of her rolling finger.

“Ashley Lawson.”

Her hand stilled. “Are you serious?”

He nodded again, this time minus the shrug.

She took a moment to process this latest piece of information—information that had the potential to change things a little. Especially in light of the fact they explained a minor detail she’d overlooked until that moment—Dixie had been less than enthusiastic to see Ashley at Sally’s party.

At the time, she hadn’t thought much about it, the distraction that was Ashley Lawson making all else pale. But now, in a moment of silence, it all came rushing back. Dixie had reacted with anger when the woman had arrived at the party. An anger she should have recognized as over the top.

Still, it was Dixie Dunn. Seventy-something Dixie Dunn. Formidable as she was, she didn’t have the physical strength needed to strangle someone half her age any more than Rose did.

“I still don’t buy that she’d kill someone,” Tori finally said, the momentary possibility chased away by reality. “I mean, she may be ornery at times but—”

“At times?” Milo echoed. “At times?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, she may be ornery virtually all the time but she’s not a killer. I just can’t believe that. I won’t.”

“Which still leaves you with two names.”

“Caroline Rowen and Samantha Smith—neither of whom I know very well.” She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the logo on the side of her to-go cup. “What I do know is that Ashley said some not so very nice things about Caroline’s little girl on the way into the party. Something about her wretched red hair if I remember Beatrice’s words correctly.”

“Wretched?” Milo’s mouth hung open. “Are you serious?”

She nodded. “This woman was awful, Milo. Absolutely, positively awful.”

“And Samantha Smith?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that her daughter routinely came home crying from kindergarten because Penelope teased her about everything from the clothes she wore to the games she played. At least that’s what Melissa told me, anyway.”

“Wait.” Milo reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With the touch of a few buttons, he held it out for her to see. “I remember that name now. Her little girl’s name is Kayla and the parents have been to the school a number of times complaining about Penelope Lawson. Only nothing seems to happen according to them.”

“Why do you have her name on your phone?”

“I wanted to remember it. I heard the afternoon kindergarten teacher talking about the situation in the lunchroom a while back and it broke my heart. I decided I’d figure out who this little girl is and make a point of saying nice things to her if I see her in the hallway or out on the playground.”

For a long moment Tori simply studied him—the smile lines beside his amber-flecked brown eyes, the faintest hint of her beloved dimples nestled in his cheeks, and the unruly crop of burnished brown hair that begged for a good finger grooming. Milo Wentworth truly was one of a kind. How many men would overhear a little gossip and go out of their way to try and make a situation better?

His cheeks grew pink when she said as much to him. “I hate to see any child ridiculed or ostracized. It’s not right.”

“Neither is this business about Ashley’s murder. I don’t believe anyone on this list is guilty.”

“You that sure about Caroline and Samantha?”

She tried his question on for size, her answer forming faster than she would have expected. “I guess not. I don’t know them.”

“Then maybe that’s where you should start.” His hands closed over hers and tugged them to the middle of the table. “Find a way to get to know them.”

“But how? I don’t think either of them frequent the library very often.”

“Find another way.” Slowly, he lifted one of her hands to his lips and whispered a kiss across them. “Melissa is helping you with this, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then get her to have a playdate. The kind where the mom comes, too.”

A playdate.

She slipped her hand from his and nudged his chin in her direction, her lips stopping just shy of his. “Has anyone ever told you you’re brilliant?”

Tori was halfway to work when she saw her, the leather portfolio in her hand as much a giveaway to her identity as the cascading golden blonde hair and perfectly chiseled body that could make a runway model feel frumpy. For the briefest of moments she felt her stomach tighten only to be shamed away by the reality her mind and heart knew to be true.

Milo loved
her
. Not Beth Samuelson.

She lifted her hand and waved as the gap between them closed. “Hi, Beth. Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

“Oh. Tori. Yes, hi.” The woman stopped beside the white picket fence that encased Sweet Briar’s town square and flashed her infamous megawatt smile. “The birds sound so pretty this morning, don’t you think?”

“I do.”

“I heard them when I rolled over in Milo’s bed this—” Beth stopped, pursed her lips together and looked at the sidewalk, the gesture striking Tori as more than a little theatrical. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. I imagine it would be hard to hear.”