Pleating for Mercy

by Melissa Bourbon

  Once again I put a snippet of Meemaw’s advice to practical use: Be quiet and listen.

  “Didn’t think any of ’em would take the plunge,” Mr. Kincaid was saying in his John Wayne voice. “Knew right after Derek graduated from high school that he wasn’t the marrying kind. Strings plenty of ’em along, though, that’s my boy! Got one practicing over there.”

  I couldn’t turn around to look behind me, but my heart went out to whoever Derek Kincaid was stringing along.

  “Even gave her a ring, the fool,” his father said. “I almost did that. Stopped myself just in time, but she wound up with it anyway and, good God, it bit me in the ass.”

  They guffawed. Then the gangly, ginger-haired man said something, his voice so low I had to strain to hear. Something about betting on how long the Kincaids’ marriage would last. “We all lost,” he said. “You and Lori have stuck it out.”

  Mr. Kincaid gave a bitter snort. “It would cost me more to divorce her than just deal with her. No prenup. She’d take me to the cleaners. Hell, she’d sell me up the river. A few too much between us to just call it quits. Now I’m trading a homegrown hellhole for an African one. Damn money. It’s an addiction.”

  He had a lifestyle to maintain. Once you had money, I imagined it was hard to give it up.

  The redheaded friend moved right along in the conversation, never missing a beat. “Derek might fall in love someday, and if he does, he may settle down yet.”

  I sipped my wine. Derek Kincaid wasn’t going to any chapel; he was going to jail for his smuggling activities.

  “You got Nate out of the nest—”

  “Only took thirty-four years,” he said with a scoff.

  “And Miriam—”

  Mr. Kincaid saved his most bitter laugh for his daughter. “Lasted all of, what? Three years? Lori and me, least we know we’re stronger together than apart.”

  Stronger together than apart. If they’d been spoken by someone else, those words would have been poignant and meaningful. As it was, they fell flat and made me feel just a tiny bit sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid. Whatever was between them didn’t sound like love. That was not the type of marriage I wanted to be in . . . if marriage was in my future.

  I caught a glimpse of a silver-haired couple. They held hands, and as he leaned over to whisper something in her ear, she giggled and batted his arm.

  I smiled to myself. That was the kind of marriage I wanted. One that would make me laugh and smile well into my nineties.

  Chapter 52

  The minutes turned to hours. I’d chatted with Josie’s mother and aunt, gotten a second glass of wine, and strolled the perimeter of the hall, listening for any snippets of conversation that might contain a clue that would help me unravel the final threads of Nell’s murder.

  I had nothing but a bunch of details that didn’t seem to add up to any cohesive answer. I checked my cell phone, thinking I’d missed another text from Will. Why was he taking so long?

  Josie, Nate, and the wedding party, sheltered from the potential discovery of the murder weapon, laughed and danced to Waylon, Willie, and the boys, easily transitioning a while later to the Macarena.

  Mama ambled over to where I sat with Madelyn, who was splitting her time between me and her tweedjacketed husband, Bill. She plopped a plate of food down next to the Easter lily centerpiece. As we picked at the chunks of fruit and cheese, I filled her in on the torn fabric braid Gracie had used on her purse and how the uneven pattern looked like a match to the odd strangulation marks on Nell’s neck. “The thing is,” I finished, “if Derek’s alibi is true, and Nate’s definitely not a suspect, who had access to the bins—and who else would have wanted Nell dead?”

  “From what I know, that house is a fortress. Nobody’s gettin’ in who wasn’t invited in,” Mama said.

  That was right. Josie had told me about the gate and how she hadn’t been able to get in to give her mother the glass cleaner. For the briefest second, I entertained the idea that Mrs. Sandoval had killed Nell. She would have had access to the fabric bins with the probable murder weapon, she knew Nell was coming back to my shop that night, and she lived alone, so most likely had no alibi. But I couldn’t pin a motive on her. Nell had been good to Josie, even leaving her share in the bead shop to her.

  Unless . . .

  Could she have somehow known Josie was in Nell’s original will and killed her so Josie would inherit the equal partnership?

  Karen and Ruthann came up on either side of me, wrapped their arms around me, and squeezed. “We can’t thank you enough,” Karen cooed. “I don’t know what it is, but Ted is a changed man tonight.” She stood, twirled, and grinned. “I think it’s the dress.”

  “Definitely,” Ruthann said. She pulled her arm from my shoulder, her ring catching on a particularly curly loop of my hair. “Sorry!” She freed her finger and did her own spin, dropping her shawl. “I just made a date with George Taylor,” she gushed.

  “No!” Karen giggled. “Wait till the wine wears off, Ruthie.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said. Gathering up her shawl, she grabbed Karen’s wrist. “Come on. There’s Derek. Now he’s a catch.”

  They fluttered their fingers at us and scurried off toward Derek, who’d been watching them, that same smug smile on his lips that he’d had at the church when he’d seen Ruthann glide down the aisle.

  My stomach turned watching Ruthann fall against him, as Karen scooted back to Ted. I followed Derek’s arm as it snaked around Ruthann’s waist. Soon they melted into the crowd.

  “Which leaves Mr. or Mrs. Kincaid,” I said, picking up where I’d left off.

  I glanced at the chair next to me where I’d put my clutch as Mama said, “Or their daughter.”

  My mind screeched to a halt. “Where’s my purse?” I bent down to peer under the table. I searched around my chair, even lifted my napkin up in case it had shrunk and was now a miniature version of its former self. But I didn’t see the purse.

  It hadn’t.

  “It’s gone?” Mama asked, her accent deepening so that “gone” sounded like ga-won. “Is the . . . you-knowwhat still in it?”

  My skin turned instantly clammy, my heart hammering in my chest. I’d set it down on the stool at the bar, right next to Mr. Kincaid, while I was listening to him regale his friend with stories of his affairs.

  My conversation with Mrs. James shot into my head. She’d said she hadn’t seen Derek at Reata, but that day in Buttons & Bows, she’d said she’d seen Keith Kincaid and his lawyer there plenty of times.

  I whirled around, my head spinning. I slapped my hand over my mouth. “It wasn’t Derek.”

  “What wasn’t Derek?” Mama asked.

  Madelyn’s mouth had formed a speechless O.

  “Keith Kincaid and Nell. You were right, Mama—it was a married man.” And Mrs. Kincaid knew about it, I suddenly realized. That’s why she’d so pointedly asked about Reata. They were stronger together than apart because they knew each other’s secrets, Mr. Kincaid had said.

  I searched the table and chairs one more time, just in case I’d overlooked my purse. It hadn’t materialized.

  I must have left it on the chair at the bar. Please let it still be there, I silently pleaded. I ran back to the bar while Mama and Madelyn looked everywhere else.

  The barstool was empty. No purse. And that meant no ring.

  Miriam sat at the head table, looking miles better than she had that morning, although it was clear that she was tired. My charm wasn’t fully working with her. Curious. With my cell phone as my only comfort, I made a beeline for her and cut to the chase. “Who knows I have the ring?”

  She stared at me. “I . . . I . . .”

  The deejay’s music pounded in my ears. The questions Will and I had talked about pumped through my mind with the same blinding rhythm. “Where did you find the ring, Miriam?”

  “It was in my dad’s desk. In his study,” she added. “I was looking for a paper clip and . . . and I saw it.
After those texts, I knew it was one of the diamonds . . . so I took it.”

  Like a trigger, I suddenly remembered Ruthann, or maybe it was Karen, saying Nate couldn’t return the engagement ring to a store because of the custom diamond and that his dad said he’d take care of it. My fingers carved through my hair. How, how, how could I have forgotten that?

  Cold sweat beaded around my hairline. Could Derek have pulled off a diamond-smuggling operation alone? More conversations flooded back to me. He and his dad took turns coming home. Someone had told me that, though at the moment I couldn’t for the life of me remember who.

  Another thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. I left Miriam staring at me, trying to sort out all my disjointed thoughts. The same scenario I’d worked out if Derek had been the father of Nell’s baby worked if Keith Kincaid was the father of the baby. Only he hadn’t been in the country when Nell was killed. If Nell had tried to blackmail him into staying with her and becoming some kind of a family, he would have relied on the one person he trusted to take care of things.

  I was back to Derek.

  Only Derek had been at Billy Bob’s when Nell was murdered.

  So who?

  Where were Will and Sheriff McClaine? I couldn’t . . . I needed fresh air. Or better yet, the ladies’ room. Across the hall. Through the entrance. Up the stairs.

  I stopped at the door, more pieces falling into place. Mrs. James had said something about another Kincaid wedding, hadn’t she? But Miriam wasn’t seeing anyone.

  Keith Kincaid’s chastisement of Derek circled back to me. “Got one practicing over there,” he’d said. “Even gave her a ring, the fool.”

  Mama had put Hoss’s ring on her right hand because she wasn’t ready to go public, just like . . .

  I pushed open the door and stepped in before I realized I wasn’t alone. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. My purse sat on the sink, its contents spilled out on the counter. A blur of olive green chiffon. An acrylic-nailed, French-manicured hand held Josie’s first engagement ring.

  The scene spun together, becoming a cohesive whole.

  The door closed behind me with a quiet whoosh. My gaze lifted. And I stared at the face of a killer.

  Chapter 53

  My mind suddenly conjured up the voices I’d heard outside Buttons & Bows the night Nell died. Mama and I had overheard an argument. Snippets of conversation. One quiet voice we couldn’t make out, and another, agitated. It hadn’t been lovers.

  It had been Nell and Ruthann.

  She moved like a gazelle, effortlessly positioning herself between me and the door. “Why?” I asked, but I knew the answer. I’d heard it from Lori Kincaid herself, that first day in Buttons & Bows. It takes time and effort to maintain an image. It’s like a house of cards. One bent corner, and the whole thing comes toppling down.

  “Was it the blackmail or the pregnancy?”

  The vein at Ruthann’s temple pulsed. “Take your pick. Both? I had to do something. She was going to ruin things for me. The pregnancy was bad enough, but, look, I’m under no illusions. I know Derek really loves me. Men like the Kincaids cheat. And Nell went after him. Mrs. Kincaid learned how to deal with it—”

  “Yeah, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”

  She flashed the rock on her right hand. “This is my engagement ring.”

  “No, it’s your payment for services rendered. He’s been working you, Ruthann. He got you to do his dirty work—don’t you see that?”

  Ruthann let the ring drop into her hand, showing it to me on her palm. “Derek said Nell could keep it. It’s worth forty thousand dollars. She could have sold it, raised her kid, and everything would have been fine.”

  “But she wanted love, not money.”

  Ruthann had killed Nell to protect the reputation of a family she wasn’t even a part of. I didn’t have a sliver of doubt that she’d do it again to protect herself.

  The only way out of the bathroom was the door I’d come through. And she was blocking it. I asked her another question to keep her talking while I figured out what to do.

  “Do Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid know . . . what you did to Nell?”

  “Derek and I planned it together. It was a game—who could come up with the better plan. When he showed me Miriam’s old sewing stuff, I knew it would work. I made sure he went out with friends that night. No one knew about me and him yet.” She smiled softly. “He said he wanted me to be his secret for a while longer.”

  My heart went out to her. She really thought Derek would stand by her, and nothing I could say would change her mind. I looked at my purse. “How did you know I had the—”

  “You are so talented, Harlow, but you’re not very smart. I watched you at the bar listening to Mr. Kincaid. I’d already put things together. When that shelf at your shop broke and the jars fell, I knew Nell had been trying to hide it, but Karen swept it all up first.

  “Then when I saw you grab the jewelry bag from the street after the funeral, I knew you’d figured it out.” She looked at her reflection, then shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it. “You have such a gift. It’s too bad.” She methodically packed up my purse, all except the ring and the velvet drawstring bag.

  My useless cell phone mocked me. I’d seen Gracie and Holly text without even looking. Me? I was quick when I was focused. Texting blind on a touch pad?

  That was when I noticed it. A length of torn fabric braiding hanging from her hand.

  She’d had the element of surprise with Nell, but she didn’t have that with me. I kept at her. “Miriam found out about the diamonds. This family’s coming apart. It’s too late, Ruthann.”

  She swallowed, shaken. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean—” I began. I heard someone approaching the restroom door. Blood pounded in my throat, but no one came in. My imagination.

  “I mean, she knows that her brother is smuggling diamonds from country to country until he can bring them into the States. She knows that Nell was blackmailing the father of her baby and she was killed because of it. She told me everything,” I said, holding my arms out as she took a step toward me, “and I told the sheriff.”

  Ruthann let out a guttural screech and lunged, but the door whooshed open, crashing into her. She fell forward, sprawling flat on the ground.

  An energized Miriam careened in after her, landing on her back. I grabbed the braided cloth and wound it around Ruthann’s wrists just as Hoss McClaine burst through the door.

  He took one look at us, made a quick retreat, and sent in the deputy sheriff in his place. “Let’s go,” she said, hauling Ruthann up. “You have the right to remain silent . . .”

  Chapter 54

  “You could have died,” Mama said after she’d heard what happened in the ladies’ room.

  Ruthann McDaniels was arrested for murder. Keith and Derek Kincaid were taken into custody by the sheriff until the FBI arrived to haul them both away for smuggling conflict diamonds. Not the happiest ending for Josie and Nate’s wedding, but definitely memorable.

  “But I didn’t. No one was hurt.” Except Nell.

  The pink-streaked petals of the Easter lily quivered. It sat on the coffee table next to the little tin box.

  “Mama,” I said with a hiss.

  She snapped her gaze to the Easter lily, gave a quick little gasp, and lickety-split, fisted her hands.

  Madelyn cocked a curious eyebrow. “What’s going on—”

  Mama’s effort to stop wasn’t working. The flower whiffled its petals. I watched helplessly as the lily grew larger before our eyes.

  “Oh!” Madelyn covered her mouth with one hand, pointing a giddy finger at the flower with the other. “Oh, look! Am I . . . is that real?” She looked at Mama, who’d cracked one eye to look at what her agitation about my encounter with a murderer was doing to the pretty flower. Madelyn’s husband, Bill, was in the kitchen fixing drinks for us. Thankfully. “I knew it!” Madelyn exclaimed.

  “Mama, stop!” I ordere
d.

  Her face was fully contorted now. She was no dainty Samantha Stevens from Bewitched, wiggling her pert little nose to put chaos in order. The streak in her hair looked more pronounced the more effort she exerted. Her face turned the color of a radish and she looked ready to blow.

  “I think she’s trying,” Madelyn said, peering at Mama.

  A tense minute later, the flower shivered, its petals spasming. Slowly it began shrinking, giving a final shudder as it returned to its normal size.

  Mama’s face went slack. She slumped back in her chair, exhausted from the effort. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t control it.”

  I snuck a look at Madelyn, the self-proclaimed magic junkie. The only way to describe her expression was electrified. She touched her fingertips to a flower petal. “I’ve never seen something so beautiful.”

  My phone buzzed and a text from Will came through. On my way.

  Finally.

  I read it to them, relieved to see the feverish thrill pulsing through Madelyn begin to simmer down.

  “Is Hoss—er, the sheriff—fixin’ to come back, too?” Mama asked when she’d regained the power of speech.

  “I don’t know.” I wanted to tell her not to keep the sheriff a secret like Derek had kept Ruthann a secret, but I realized I was hiding Meemaw, keeping her to myself, so I kept my mouth shut.

  A rogue thought struck me. Ever since I’d been back in Bliss, Mama had been struggling with her charm. There was nothing to warrant this change . . . except that she was in love. Was Butch’s charm also a curse? Fall in love and the charm goes haywire? Was that why Nana’s goats were always escaping? Was that why Loretta Mae had remained single after my great-great-granddaddy passed?

  My temples throbbed as the next thought bounded into my mind. What would happen to my newfound charm if I fell in love?

  I had no more time to think about it. Bill returned, carrying a tray of novelty glasses he’d dug out of my cupboard. He set the tray on the coffee table just as the bells hanging from the front door jingled. The door opened and, as if triggering an electrical surge, the lights flickered. A puff of air seemed to come from underneath the coffee table, fluttering the lily’s petals and forcing the fabric swatches in the little box up into the air, like tossed confetti.