by Maymee Bell
“Hi, Sophia. I heard you were back in town.” She smiled and pushed her red glasses up on the bridge of her nose.
“It seems that Bitsy has told everyone.” I looked around the table at all the food.
Patrice Davis had brought some sort of meatballs in a Crock-Pot. Beverly Scamper had brought some pigs in a blanket, while Crystal Nettles had brought some sort of pimento cheese spread and small squares of bread. The Garden Club wasn’t nearly as fancy as Bitsy’s Junior League. These women wanted to get their hands dirty, while the women in the Junior League only wanted their hands to be in hot manicure wax.
“I think I heard it down at Peacocks and Pansies.” She shrugged, moved around some of the food, and took the Buckles out of my hand, placing the tray in the spot she’d just cleared. “Something about you needing a dress for Charlotte’s wedding.”
“I met Carol Bauer, and she said she had the perfect dress for me,” I said.
“A little secret.” Cat smiled and continued to adjust the food containers. “She says that to everyone. And when you get in there, she’s going to tell you that so many people have tried on the dress and it didn’t look good on anyone but you. That’s why it’s not been sold yet.”
“So she’s a good salesperson?” I joked and took one of the paper plates.
“Yes.” She nodded. She placed a soft hand on my arm. “It’s just so good to see you.” Her southern drawl made the you sound more like ewe.
“Bitsy insisted I come to the meeting to say hi to all her friends.” And I wanted to see if Natalie killed Emile because they were playing bedroom rodeo. “What are you up to nowadays?”
“I’m the librarian now. Sabrina Wells retired and I’d gotten my degree in library science, so I took over.” There was a proud tone in her voice.
I took a step back and she took a step forward to move out of the way of the Buckles so a few members could grab one.
“Catherine, that’s great! I’m not surprised. You’re the smartest person I know, and it’s because you kept your head in a book learning all that stuff.” It was so fitting for her.
She drew her slim fingers up to her chest. “Why, thank you, Sophia. That’s a compliment coming from you. You have no idea how I wished I could bake like you.”
“I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around how much Rumford has changed in just the last ten years,” I said.
“We’re all grown up. I expect to see you at Friends of the Library. Bitsy is very involved with putting up all those free little libraries around the neighborhoods.” Her eyes appeared magnified through the lenses of her glasses as she stared at me. “Don’t get me wrong. She’s not putting them up. Heavens to Betsy, no. Bitsy Cummings lifting a finger?” She winked. “You know she’s much better at pointing.”
Friends of the Library was one of Bitsy’s clubs that’d started as a book club. When the community had noticed that the library was not being utilized as well as it could be and that literacy programs in the schools were declining, the book club had gotten together with the mayor and the city council to propose a committee that would help bring the library back as the center of our small town.
When I’d been a child, Bitsy had had me at the library almost every single day. She’d checked out books to read while letting me check out books on baking. With the small boxes they were calling free little libraries, they were going to be able to reach people who had a hard time making it to the library. It was a great concept: “Give a book, take a book.” If you didn’t have a book to give, it was okay; just return the book after reading it so another person could enjoy it. Plus, it kept Bitsy busy, and I liked that.
“I heard Bitsy on the phone last week talking about making the little libraries. I’m glad to see there’s a club just to keep the library going,” I said.
“I’d be lost without my nose in a book, and the free little library event is going to help us put books all over Rumford and at the fingertips of everyone, not just those coming to the library.” She nodded. “Can you imagine the love for reading the program is going to create?”
“Y’all are doing a good thing,” I assured her, taking another step away from the table. It seemed that word had gotten around about the Buckles, because everyone was walking up to get one. “I’m leaving sometime early next week, so I’m more than happy to help in any way I can while I’m here.”
My Buckles were the only dessert on the table. Thank God I’d made plenty.
“I see.” Her face pinched up in a fake smile. “I’m always here.” She tapped her fingertips on my forearm before she excused herself and left me standing there.
“I’m telling you, Sophia, these are so much better than Ford’s ever made,” one of the women gushed after she’d devoured her Buckle.
“Have you ever thought about opening up a bakery here in Rumford since we don’t have one now?” another one of Bitsy’s friends asked.
I politely told them that I was just visiting. It never failed; they followed up my answer with a nice, sweet Bless your heart; your Bitsy told us all about you getting dumped, and you are so fortunate that Bitsy is here to help you through. Your Bitsy is a giving soul.
If we weren’t among company, I’d probably have killed her right then and there. Nothing was secret or sacred to Bitsy, not even her own daughter’s broken heart. Like always and like Bitsy had taught me, I put a big smile across my lipstick-painted lips and hid my crazy, thanking them for their very kind words about Bitsy while cursing her in my head.
“Have you gotten any information regarding Natalie or Ella?” I asked Madison after she’d finally gotten away from the women who insisted she do something about the dried-up bushes in front of one of her real estate listings.
“I swear, they only invited me to be in this club because they think I can just go in and pretty up everyone’s yard once they list it.” Madison was none too happy to be at the meeting. “But I did hear that Ella did in fact have an affair with Emile. And from her own mouth.”
“Shut up,” I gasped. It was our first real piece of evidence of a true motive that we’d discovered.
“Yes. She said that he was every bit the Italian lover we would assume him to be.” Madison’s brows bounced.
“Did you ask her what happened?” I asked.
“No. That’s private, Sophia.” Madison acted as if we were in the bedroom with them.
“But that’s what we need to know. A motive. Did he dump her for another? Did she find him with another member? Natalie, perhaps?” I questioned.
Madison tapped her finger on her chin. “Yeah,” she said blankly, “I didn’t ask her those questions. I guess I should’ve.”
“Go do it before the meeting starts.” I gave her a little shove.
“She left. She’s got an appointment at Peacocks and Pansies. She only came by to drop off the tickets that were printed up to sell for the garden show,” she said.
Carol Bauer, the president of the Garden Club, got everyone’s attention with a two-finger whistle. Something I was never able to do.
“Is that Priscilla Cartwright?” I leaned over to Madison, asking about the girl standing next to Carol.
“Oh, yeah. Crazy as her mama. She goes by the name Prissy now,” Madison quipped. “But she does have a green thumb. She opened up Back-en-Thyme Flowers.” Madison nodded. “She makes those big grapevine wreaths with all sorts of flowers, seasonal decorations and such.” She crossed her arms. “Some people have all the luck. She’s one of them.”
“Ladies. Ladies!” Prissy yelled above the crowd. “Can everyone please take a seat? Cat was gracious enough to let us use the room for the full hour until it’s time for kiddie hour. So we need to get started.”
There were a few claps in honor of Cat as Madison and I took our seats in the back. My head bobbled back and forth trying to find Bitsy. I should’ve known she’d be right up front.
“There’s Natalie.” Madison nudged me. “She don’t look like a grieving lover to me.”
“And exact
ly what is that look?” I asked.
“Honey, look in the mirror,” she teased.
“That’s not nice. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure Noah is still breathing.” My eyes zeroed in on Natalie.
She wore a sleeveless red dress. The pattern changed from polka dots on the top to a floral design below the waist. The white gloves she wore on her hands stopped a little shy of her wrist. Her brown hair was cut into a very stylish asymmetrical bob, and her lack of wrinkles told me that she’d definitely had some work done. The years, though they’d been kind to her, still showed a little in the weight gain around her midsection. She wore it well.
Prissy talked about the plant exchange they’d scheduled for the next meeting and told them how to properly package the plants to bring in so they wouldn’t be ruined. She also talked about the garden show, but my mind went other places.
“I’d like to address the elephant in the room.” Prissy Cartwright brought everyone out of their boredom.
There was a blanket of whispers.
“We all heard about the head chef at the RCC. I’m sure Evelyn is working very hard to fill the spot. I’ve talked to her, and she handed me a nice piece of information that I think we will all love.” Prissy’s eyes were laser-focused on me. She put her hands out in front of her, and suddenly everyone followed them as if they were shining a spotlight on me. “She’s informed me that our very own Sophia Cummings is going to run the kitchen until an adequate replacement is hired.”
Prissy turned her attention to Carol, and they nodded at each other.
My mouth opened and nothing came out. With her palm face up, Bitsy gestured for me to shut my mouth. My mouth closed. Bitsy tapped her lips. I smiled.
“Natalie”—Prissy turned her, as well as everyone else’s, attention to the woman in question—“I’m sure you and Sophia will find the time over the next few days to go over the menu for the flower show.”
“This is great,” Madison squealed. “You’re staying longer?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Obviously,” she snorted. “The flower show is not for another couple of weeks, and first you have to bake Charlotte’s cake, then Bryce’s, and after that is the flower show.”
“Evelyn assured me she’d have someone in a couple of days,” I mumbled so only Charlotte could hear.
“Sophia, I’d never have recognized you. You’ve grown up so lovely,” Natalie interrupted us from behind. She held a piece of paper between her fingers. “Here’s my address. Please stop by tonight so we can talk about the menu.” She drew her eyes to Madison. “I’m looking forward to our meeting in a couple of hours.”
“Couple of hours?” Madison looked at her watch. “I thought I was going to call you for a time. I can stop by tonight with Sophia.”
Natalie looked between us a few times.
“Fine.” She twisted around on her heels and sashayed out the door.
“For a woman who was getting a little on the side, she sure is uptight,” Madison noted. Both of our heads leaned back as we watched her walk out of the library’s room.
“Or she’s uptight because she killed her lover.” My eyes narrowed.
Chapter Twelve
“Craigslist? Craigslist!” Evelyn screamed through the receiver of the phone and motioned for me to come in and sit. She looked up. A sleepless night and a bunch of worry had found a home under her eyes. “Who is it? I want to know.”
There was a long pause.
“You need to get ahold of Craig and have him take it down right now,” she demanded. “Where is this list?”
Apparently, Evelyn had never heard of Craigslist. I pulled my phone out of my bag and hit my Safari app, typing in Craigslist. I handed her my phone. Her eyes scanned over it, and her mouth dropped when she realized exactly what it was.
“I’ll call you back.” She slammed down the receiver. “Is this some sort of garage sale site?” She handed me the phone back and took a big inhale as if she were preparing herself for my answer.
“Yes.” I’d never thought of it as a big garage sale online, but technically that’s what it was. “You can get some really good stuff on there. I got my café table for my apartment there.”
“Did you know that a few of our members have put their membership bonds on there? This is ridiculous.” She pushed her chair back from the desk and stood up. She paced back and forth, gnawing on her lip. “Damn Emile,” she spat.
I wished I’d not heard that. It wasn’t helping to turn off the spotlight that I was desperately trying to get off of her.
“He always said that he’d get me fired. Someone is framing me.” She wagged her finger at me. “Someone is trying to get me fired. This Craigslist thingy”—her hand flew into the air—“just might do the trick. Whoever heard of a prestigious bond like the RCC being sold at a garage sale?” Her voice escalated. “A garage sale!”
She flopped back down in her chair.
“Why on earth would someone want to frame you?” I asked.
“This job.” She jabbed the desk with her finger. “My contract is coming up and I hear things. You don’t work among a bunch of hoity-toity people and not hear things.”
“What kind of things?” I asked.
“Arnold Devin, for one. He wants my job,” she said.
My ears perked up.
“Arnold Devin, as in Natalie’s husband?” I asked, as the idea of Arnold, not Natalie, as the killer started to form.
Was I sniffing up the wrong tree? Had Arnold found out about Natalie and Emile and killed him? After Natalie learned about the murder at lunch at the RCC and sent her food back, had she rushed home and confronted Arnold? Arnold had given her a big ring. According to the women at the Garden Club, the diamond was as big as her head. Too bad her hands had been covered with gloves when she’d handed me her address.
“That’s the one,” she snarled. “He recently retired. I heard they’ve gone on a budget. At least Natalie was put on a budget, and her tennis lessons have gone down from six days a week to three. And she’s canceled all of her appointments with LuAnn Farris.”
“Who is LuAnn Farris?” I asked.
“She’s our massage therapist here. She’s the best around, and it took me a lot, plus a big salary, to get her here.” She drummed her fingers on the desk.
“Why would he want your job?” I asked, trying to get a clear picture of why he’d want to make it look as if Evelyn was the suspect.
“If you have my job, you get free services. Do you think Natalie Devin just idly sat by and let her luxuries be taken away?” Her nostrils flared, and it wasn’t a good look on her. “I heard he stopped doing the extracurricular activities outside what the membership fee pays once he retired. And it just so happens Natalie cancels her appointments and cuts back on her lessons?” She asked the question as if I could answer her. “Not a coincidence.”
She smacked her hand on the desk and dragged the Rolodex from underneath a stack of files. She ran her fingers along the alphabetical tabs and flipped the cards.
“I’m calling the sheriff right now. I’m telling him he needs to be looking at Arnold Devin.” She picked up the phone, stuck it between her ear and shoulder, and jabbed at the numbers.
“Maybe you should call my dad instead and let him know this information. He did stop by, right?” I asked.
Her head lifted, and she looked as though she were pondering what I’d said.
“Regardless, I wanted to stop in and make sure you had someone to replace me in a couple of days,” I said. “People are getting the wrong idea that I’m staying in town and asking me to do all sorts of events. I don’t want to say anything to them, but I do want to make sure you have someone.”
“John Cummings, please. Tell him this is Evelyn Moss,” she chirped into the phone. She pulled the receiver away from her chin. “Yes. Don’t worry. The new chef will be here in the morning, so if you don’t mind, please be here bright and early to help with the transition.”
“Gr
eat.” I planted my hands on my thighs and pushed up to standing. “That’s perfect. I’ll be here.”
“Yes. Evelyn Moss,” she said again.
“I’ll let you get back to your phone call.” I took a few steps to the door and turned around. “And Evelyn…” When she looked up at me, I continued, “I’m so glad you called my dad. I know you didn’t kill Emile. I’ll keep my ears open too.”
“I appreciate that, Sophia.” She offered a wry smile. “Do you mind making your famous cream puffs for tonight’s supper?”
“I’d be delighted to.” It was the least I could do for her.
“It’s so refreshing to have someone in the kitchen who listens to me without a fight.” Her words brought me back to the reason she was the number one suspect, making me doubt my scenario of Natalie’s husband killing Emile and causing me to wonder if Evelyn really had done it.
My suspect list was growing, and I really needed to work fast to narrow it down.
On my way down the hall to the kitchen to start my shift, I got a text from Madison. She asked if I could bake some Crunchies tonight after we went to Natalie’s because she had a late showing. I texted back immediately to say that I’d love too. I was itching to break in those fancy appliances in that cute cottage.
After a few texts back and forth about timing, I put my phone in the pocket of the chef ’s jacket I’d grabbed off the hook and put on, but not without taking out a pink slip that was stuck in the bottom of the pocket.
It appeared to be a slip from the laundry service that picked up the aprons, towels, and rugs. They picked up the laundry once a week and replaced the items with clean ones. Dirty linens were just as common as food in a kitchen. The slip was signed by Emile and dated a week before the day of his death.
“Good afternoon,” Nick greeted me. “What do you have there?”
“It’s a receipt from the laundering service. Do you know where Emile kept those?” I questioned so I could see this week’s receipt and possibly talk to the person who did the RCC’s laundry. Maybe he’d seen Emile or had just seen something.
“I have no clue.” Nick grabbed his apron from the hook. “How are things going?”