Deadly Notions (21 page)

“Patrons don’t follow a calendar. They’re to be assisted at any time during business hours and last time I checked”—Dixie turned her wristwatch for Tori to see—“now is definitely in that time frame.”

“And that’s why Nina is here.” Stepping behind the counter, Tori made short work of a stack of returns, her hands expertly sorting them into the correct piles. “But, since you seem to need to talk to me, let’s talk. I’m here now.”

“Shouldn’t we go to your office?”

She shook her head. “As you so nicely pointed out, we
are
in the middle of business hours.”

Dixie made a face. “But I—”

“So you’d like to talk about your schedule?” Pulling her stool over to the computer, Tori clicked a few icons until the branch calendar appeared on the screen. “Right now I have you down for each Thursday morning over the next three weeks. Would you like to take some of those off?”

“No, I—”

“Nina? Could you take next Thursday morning?”

“Of course, Miss Sinclair.”

She looked at the screen. “I could take the one after that, no problem.”

Dixie stamped her foot. “I’m not saying I don’t want to work them. I just wanted to talk about them.”

“What about them?” She forced herself to focus on Dixie rather than the smile Nina was attempting to hide.

“I was hoping I could do a story time on bullying.”

“Bullying?” she echoed.

“Based on what I saw recently, it’s sorely needed. Even if the biggest culprit of all is no longer under the influence of her adult counterpart.”

Her fingers left the keyboard. “What are you talking about?”

“Bullying needs to stop. It hurts a child’s confidence in so many ways.”

She held up her hands. “Dixie, I agree one hundred percent. But what was that about the biggest culprit and her adult counterpart? You lost me.”

“I had a little girl wander into the children’s room during story time a week or so ago. And while I was reading, I watched this little girl be ridiculed by the nastiest child I’ve ever laid eyes on. Before I could put a stop to it, the little girl ran from the room in tears.”

She heard the gasp as it escaped her mouth. “Wait. Where was I?”

“You were meeting the board for lunch.”

Nina pointed at Dixie. “See? I told you Ms. Dunn would be the perfect person to ask.”

Ignoring her assistant, Tori focused instead on the elderly woman who stood just inside the circular counter-top that denoted the information desk.

“The perfect person to ask about what?” Dixie groused.

Tori glanced around the room, her gaze skimming across the handful of patrons either perusing books at a table or wandering down the aisles in search of a particular title. “Nina? Can you handle things for just a few more minutes? I’d like to talk to Dixie in my office after all. It won’t be long.”

“Go ahead, Miss Sinclair. I’m fine up here.” Nina stepped around the counter and headed toward the bank of computers near the side wall.

Dixie led the way down the hallway, her penny loafers shuffling along the carpet. “I don’t want you to think I was negligent in not stepping in to stop the nastiness that day but, by the time I realized what was happening, the little girl had run off.”

Closing the door behind them, Tori motioned toward the two wicker chairs by the window. “It never dawned on me to think you’d been negligent, Dixie. I see how you are with the children every week. You’re wonderful.”

The elderly woman beamed at the praise. “Why thank you, Victoria. It’s nice to know my efforts are noticed.”

“It would be hard not to notice. Especially when the children in your story time sections always look so happy.” When Dixie was settled into the chair with the lavender cushion, Tori followed suit, claiming the yellow-cushioned chair as her own. “But I would like to know what happened that day. Just so I can have a better understanding.”

Without so much as a moment’s hesitation, Dixie launched into the story. “I had a slightly larger than normal group that day on account of a playdate one of the children was having. That child’s mother asked if it would be okay if her daughter brought three friends to story time. Of course I agreed. The more children I can reach, the better.”

Tori nodded. “I agree.”

“Two of the little friends were fine. Polite, respectful, curious about the various books I was reading. But the one was rather standoffish, almost as if she was above the notion of sitting on a carpet listening to stories.” Dixie held her hand out and made a little face. “Can you imagine a kindergartener being too good for books?”

“No. Not really. Unless it’s something she’s been trained to think.”

“Then this one was trained very, very well.” Lifting her hand to her glasses, Dixie adjusted them to sit more firmly across the bridge of her nose. “I—like the rest of the children—was enthralled in the story I was reading when the little brunette walked in. So it was a full page or two later that I finally realized she was standing there on the edge of the circle listening to the story. Then, before I knew what was happening, the nasty little one had stood up and was standing in front of this new little girl telling her she wasn’t allowed to be there, that only certain people could attend story time and she wasn’t one of them.”

She sucked in a whoosh of air, to which Dixie nodded in commiseration. “I know. Isn’t that awful? Before I could say or do anything, the little girl had run off, tears streaming down her face.” Dixie swiveled her stout body to the right and leaned toward Tori. “I got up, took hold of that nasty little one’s arm, and gave her a talkin’ to she won’t soon forget. Though I suspect she has other things to worry about these days.”

“I’m not following.”

“Chances are she’s trying to figure out who is going to pamper her now that her mother is gone.”

“Gone—wait!” Reality hit like a one-two punch. “Penelope Lawson was the little girl?”

A cloud of anger pushed its way across Dixie’s wrinkled face. “I should have realized she was tied to that awful woman. Why, her reactions to books and to
me
were much the same as her mother’s.”

Recalling Milo’s words, she nodded. “I’m sorry Ashley kept you from being a reader at the school. She couldn’t have been more wrong and, in doing so, the children of Sweet Briar Elementary certainly lost out.”

Ever so slowly, Dixie lifted her head to meet Tori’s gaze, a hint of moisture evident behind her glasses. “Thank you, Victoria.”

“It’s the truth, Dixie.”

A moment of awkward silence filled the room only to be chased away by more details of the day in question. “I considered getting Penelope’s phone number from the mom who’d brought her to story time but decided against it when I realized the other mom was gunning for Ashley.”

“
Other
mom?”

“Yes. The mom who was at Sally’s party—Stephanie Smith, I believe.”

“Stephanie? Steph—wait, you mean
Samantha
?”

Dixie mumbled the name beneath her breath, trying each version on for size. “Actually, I think you’re right, I think it
is
Samantha Smith. I didn’t get her daughter’s name.”

“Kayla,” Tori supplied as her mind worked to inventory the various bits of information she’d gleaned from Dixie over the past several moments. “So Samantha came back?”

“I was walking home from story time, contemplating whether I should ask for Penelope’s number, when I bumped into Samantha and Kayla near the park. I recognized the little girl right away—the pageboy-style haircut, the sad eyes, and the same heartbreaking little frown I’d seen as she ran out of the children’s room. So I stopped and went over to her and her mother so I could apologize for that little Penelope’s behavior and for the fact I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.”

“And?”

“The mother sent Kayla off to play so we could talk. Though most of what she said was hard to understand on account of the crying.”

“Kayla got hurt on the playground?”

Dixie shook her head. “Samantha was crying. About the way Penelope has been bullying Kayla for months—at school, at the playground, in the library . . .”

She considered the woman’s words, realized they meshed perfectly with everything Milo had told her. “I heard that was happening. It’s such a shame, isn’t it?”

“You’re darn tootin’ it’s a shame. A cryin’ shame if you ask me.
Kindergarteners
bullying one another? Can you imagine?”

“No.” It was a simple answer but it was the truth.

“I told her I had half a mind to call Penelope’s mother and she told me not to bother. Said it wouldn’t do any good. And, had I put two and two together and figured out who Penelope belonged to, I would have understood her concerns a bit more quickly.”

“So you didn’t call?”

“Samantha said it was a losing battle. When I tried to disagree, she simply spouted that thing about going around and coming around that your generation seems to love to say.”

“What goes around, comes around,” she whispered.

“That’s it. That’s what she said. Only she didn’t say it quite the way you did just now.”

Tori looked a question at the woman. “I don’t understand.”

“She said it more like this.” Gritting her teeth, Dixie repeated the saying, the venom in her voice hard to miss. “ ‘What goes around, comes around. And trust me, Ms. Dunn, Penelope Lawson and her precious mommy dearest will get theirs. Soon.’ ”

Her mouth gaped open. “She said all of that? Even the part about Penelope and her mom getting theirs?”

“I said she did, didn’t I?” Dixie snapped. “In fact, my memory is quite clear on the subject.”

“Did you tell Chief Dallas that?”

“Why on earth would I do . . .” Dixie’s words trailed off as understanding dawned in her large puppy dog eyes. “You think
she’s
the one who strangled that hateful woman?”

Reaching out, she patted Dixie’s arm, the gesture as much to calm her own nerves as Dixie’s. “I don’t know. But it certainly bears a closer look, don’t you think?”

“I reckon. Though, if you’re right, it bears more than that.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

Dixie pushed off the chair and shuffled over to the door, her leathery hand grasping the doorknob before Tori had even stood. “If Samantha did it, and I mean
really
did it, there’s a whole slew of Sweet Briar women who’ll think she deserves a round of applause.”

She’d just put the finishing touches on the dessert table when the first knock sounded signaling the start of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle. With a quick swipe of her hand across the top of the white linen tablecloth, Tori turned and headed toward the door.

Peeking through the screen door she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the plump woman on the other side juggling three foil-covered plates along with the prerequisite sewing gear. “Margaret Louise, let me help you with that.” She pushed the door open and reached for two of the plates. “You’re only supposed to bring one thing.”

“I know, I know. This one is mine and those”—Margaret Louise pointed at the plates in Tori’s hand—“are from Beatrice and Melissa.”

She glanced down at the plates. “Beatrice and Melissa? Why? Where are they?”

Margaret Louise stepped inside, her sneakers making a soft thud against the hardwood floor. “They’re not coming.”

“They’re not?”

“No. They’re both too upset. Seems Chief Dallas was fishin’ in the clouds again today.”

“Fishing in the—” She stopped, the meaning of Margaret Louise’s words hitting their target without interpretation. “Are they okay?”

“They’ll feel better when it quits hurtin’. Just wish I knew when that might be.” Margaret Louise dropped her sewing gear onto the floor then took the plates from Tori once again. “And short of that, I’d like to come up with an idea that’s horse high, bull strong, pig tight, and goose proof. Anything to put that smile back on Melissa’s face again. Not used to seeing that child so down in the mouth.”

“I know. I saw it the other day when I stopped by to visit. Sad just doesn’t seem to go with her, does it?” A swell of voices on the other side of the screen pulled Tori’s focus back to the door. “Sounds like Rose and Dixie are here now, too.”

“I’ll put these on the table.”

“Is there any chocolate?” she asked.

Margaret Louise let out a chuckle from somewhere deep inside her soul. “Do you think I’d show my face in this house if there wasn’t?”

It was Tori’s turn to laugh as she met the next group of sewing sisters at the door. “Good evening, Rose. Good evening, Dixie. I’m glad you could make it.”

“We’ve got work to do.” Rose pushed her way through the door, her trademark cotton sweater pulled tightly around her shoulders. “I found some felt that will work perfect for a chip bag and a strawberry.”

“I found some for the lettuce and the cheese.” Dixie followed her friend down the hallway only to stop midway and turn. “I want to thank you, Victoria, for the kind things you said yesterday. They meant a lot.”