A Seamless Murder

by Melissa Bourbon

  I spent the next two hours cutting and hand sewing the flowers from some of the colorful fabrics Randi had chosen. I used embroidery floss and simple braiding to form the stems. After my stint at the tag sale, I’d construct the apron itself and begin attaching the appliqués to the muslin. The inspirational words would come last, but they’d be the final touch that would make the apron perfect for Randi.

  At two o’clock, I left Gracie working on her project and headed to the church. The front parking lot was full, and there wasn’t a single space along the street. I drove around the lot behind the cemetery, a feeling of déjà vu coming over me as I walked through it and past the very spot where I’d found Delta Lea Mobley’s body. There had been a small funeral ceremony with family only. I wondered whether they’d been afraid that no one would show up if they’d opened it up to the community.

  At that thought, a feeling of sadness came over me. Everyone’s life had value and should be honored, and Delta’s had been cut short. I had enough time before my shift to scout the cemetery and look for her final resting place. I found it not far from where she’d died. There was no marker yet, but I knew it was hers by the bouquet, an assortment of bluebonnets, gladiolus, and other native Texas buds lying at the top of the grave. Jessie Pearl often puttered around the front yard taking care of the flower garden, and I knew these had come from the Mobleys’ front yard.

  I stopped to pay my respects, speaking to her in a soft voice. “Delta, I won’t stop until I learn the truth and your mama has some peace.”

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that, Harlow.”

  I jumped, startled at the voice. Coco came up behind me, Megan and Todd trailing after her on the path. Rebecca Masters ran up behind them, panting as she handed Megan a wad of tissue.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here,” I said. “I’ll leave you—”

  “Of course you’re not going anywhere,” Coco said, putting her hand on my arm. “I’m touched that you would come to pay your respects, especially knowing how Delta treated y’all after the goat incidents.”

  “Well,” I said, “she certainly could hold a grudge.”

  Beside me, Megan nodded. “Yes she could.”

  “You can say that again,” Todd said, his arms folded over his chest. “A personal grudge against me for making enchiladas.”

  Megan lightly knocked the back of her hand against Todd’s arm. “But she loved your pasta puttanesca, right?” She kissed her fingertips, fanning them out in front of her. “Delicioso.”

  “True,” he said, smiling. “She had seconds every time.”

  “Thirds, probably,” Coco said. “Cook her things she liked and she could forgive anything—”

  “Almost anything . . .” Todd said, grinning.

  “Which is why she’d never forgive me,” Coco finished. “You couldn’t pay me to prepare a meal for her.”

  “She can probably hear you, you know,” Rebecca said. “And she wouldn’t like that you’re talking about her.”

  She said it jokingly, but I glanced behind me, looking for rustling trees and listening for howling wind. Because of Meemaw, I knew ghosts existed, but all was quiet here in the cemetery.

  “I’m heading to the church,” I said. People often had to deal with their grief in their own ways, and I didn’t want to intrude on their time at the gravesite.

  “You don’t have to go,” Coco said, but Todd stepped closer to Megan, wrapping his arm around her, nodding a thank-you to me.

  “I’m late for my shift at the tag sale. Are you stopping by?”

  “We’re not buying anything at the sale. I hauled so many boxes of stuff from the house over here for her the day before she passed,” Todd said.

  “Nice of you to contribute given your antique business,” I said to Megan.

  Megan shrugged. “I sell what I buy and collect, but the stuff Mother donated to the tag sale was mostly Granny’s.”

  “Your grandmother didn’t want you to sell it for her instead?”

  Rebecca laughed as Megan said, “Oh no. Granny doesn’t get the whole eBay–flea market thing. She thinks it’s a dumb job. Mother would give me something of Granny’s every now and then, but she’d swear me to secrecy. Your grandmother would not want this sold, she’d say, so just keep this between us.”

  Coco drew in a sharp breath. “Mother’s things were not hers to get rid of. How dare she?”

  The color drained from Megan’s face. “I thought you knew.”

  Coco used the back of her hand to nudge her glasses back into place, then put her hands on her hips. “You thought I knew that Delta was getting rid of my mother’s things, bit by bit, without telling me or Sherri?”

  I asked my own question. “Why would Delta send some of Jessie Pearl’s things to the church tag sale?” I asked. If Delta was trying to be underhanded about it, it seemed easier to have Megan sell the things she’d taken from Jessie Pearl.

  Coco rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’ll tell you why. Mother is forgetful. Easier to convince her that she forgot she’d donated something for the church versus giving it to Megan to sell for profit.”

  “But why?” I asked. “Why would she give away Jessie Pearl’s things in the first place?”

  Coco’s expression grew indignant. “So she could stop Sherri and me from having any of it,” she said matter-of-factly.

  We all stared at her. Todd spoke first. “Why would she want to do that? You’re all three her children.”

  Coco adjusted her glasses again. “Sibling rivalry, I guess,” she said.

  I shook my head, still trying to understand, and wondering if this was a recent change in Delta. Randi’s words about her knowing her time was limited came back to me. But no, that didn’t make sense. I’d spoken with the sheriff, and he hadn’t mentioned anything to indicate that Delta was unwell. “But does taking Jessie Pearl’s things and getting rid of them accomplish that?”

  “That I don’t know,” Coco said, “but mark my words, that’s what it was about.”

  Todd cleared his throat, getting our attention. “We’re standing next to her grave,” he said. “Maybe we should talk about this some other time.”

  Rebecca coughed, turning away, and Megan dabbed her eyes with the tissue in her hand. Coco turned to look at Delta’s burial spot. “She’s probably in there listening and laughing,” she said. “Delta would be the first to admit that charity was not something she believed in. Get up and help yourself, that was her motto, wouldn’t you say, Megan?”

  Megan’s brown eyes were wide as quarters. She stole a quick glance at the grave, but nodded. “She kicked me out of the house once, all because I didn’t want to go to a college readiness class she signed me up for. I told her I didn’t want to go to her alma mater, and that I wanted to be a police officer. And what’s wrong with that, anyway? But she got so mad, I thought she was literally going to explode.” She turned to Todd, tears spilling from her eyes. “I don’t think you ever saw her like that. She was clenching her fists, and her neck turned bright red. If she’d been in a cartoon, the top of her head would have popped open and steam would have poured out.”

  Her lips quivered, and the quiet sobs she’d been holding in turned to a slight giggle, then a full-on laugh. “She was always mad at me, I think. More often than she wasn’t, anyway, but . . . but . . .”

  “But she loved you,” Todd said, pulling her close.

  “She should still be here,” Rebecca said, taking Megan’s hand. “It’s not right. But Todd’s right. She loved you more than anything, and I bet that you were the last person to cross her mind before she died. She was willing to go to the mat for you, Megs, whatever it took.”

  Coco reached over to take Megan’s hand. “She didn’t always know how to show it, Meg, but she did love you. No mother in her right mind would cheer at her only daughter becoming a police officer. There are crazy people in the world.”

  The statement hung there over Delta’s grave like a dark cloud. S
omeone had been crazy enough to kill her, and we all wanted answers. But right now I had nothing but a few hypotheses, and none of them seemed any good. If I believed Coco, Delta had something against her own sisters, and there was some strife between her and Megan, too. None of the relationships in Delta’s life seemed to have been easy or conflict-free. But I thought Coco was right. Delta had loved Megan, and the poor girl needed to understand that or she’d carry the weight of disappointment her whole life.

  In the distance, I could see people swarming around the tent, moving up and down the aisles. In the church itself, the pastor peered out the window, taking in the fund-raising efforts of the congregation. It was a sight he had to be proud of.

  Something Delta had said that very first day when the Red Hat ladies had cornered me about the aprons suddenly came back to me. The town leaked like a sieve, she’d said. I’d forgotten about it, but now I couldn’t get it out of my mind. What church incident? And did the pastor know about it?

  Seize the moment, that was my motto. With the pastor alone inside the church, this was my opportunity to see what he might know about any incidents in Delta’s life.

  I checked my watch and edged toward the pathway that led to the church. “I’ll see you at the tag sale?” I asked.

  “In a little while,” Todd said. He took Megan’s hand and guided her closer to the grave. They needed their own moment of silence and time to grieve privately. Another reason for me to take my leave.

  I hurried off, leaving the cemetery, and minutes later I was skirting my way through the tent. Before I made it past the first aisle, someone called my name. Make that two people. Mama and Nana stood at the end of the next row over, a mess of trinkets covering every square inch of their table. Vases, bowls, salt and pepper shakers, figurines. I’d never seen so many knickknacks in one place. They seemed to have quadrupled since I was here last. And there wasn’t anything I was inclined to bring home.

  “Darlin’,” Mama said, waving, “over here. Come over here.”

  I waved back. “Coming.”

  I headed toward her but stopped in my tracks when I caught sight of a sparkling pocket on a rectangle of blue denim. I’d never been attracted to the bling so many Texas women adored. But there was something about this particular pair of jeans that drew my eye. I just didn’t know what it was. I picked them up, checked the tag. They were my size. Meant to be, I reckoned. And they looked as if they’d fit me perfectly. Tucking them under my arm, I scanned the rest of the table. Another pair jumped out at me. Not jeans, I realized. Overalls. They weren’t my size. They weren’t particularly stylish. The faded color. The soft denim. The oversized pocket on the front panel.

  I passed them by, but backtracked a moment later. There was something about them that I liked. They’d been worn, but that didn’t mean they had no use left in them. Deconstruction was always an experiment in creativity, and what better tool to start a deconstruction project with than a pair of denim overalls? I had no idea what I’d make with them, or whom I’d make it for, but I knew I had to have them.

  I grabbed them before heading down the aisle, stopping again when something else caught my eye. It was a Lladró figurine, and it looked exactly like the one I’d seen in Delta Lea Mobley’s house the week before. I’d looked it up when I’d gotten home that night. It was a retired design. A woman in a long dress with a coat, a sewing basket over her arm, and a pink umbrella. I’d been right about her being a dressmaker.

  Delta hadn’t mentioned that it was coming to the tag sale, and neither had Jessie Pearl. And from what I’d seen online, it was worth several hundred dollars. I snatched it up in case it was a mistake. I wanted to check with Jessie Pearl to make sure she’d meant to donate it—if it did, indeed, belong to her. I checked the price tag. Ten dollars. That had to be a mistake.

  I glanced around, quickly spotting three more of the figurines I’d seen in the curio cabinet at Delta’s house. I cradled them all, very carefully, finally making my way over to Mama and Nana.

  “What in heaven’s name do you want with all those things?” Mama asked. She was all about nature and flowers. She collected clay pots and had some stained glass in her greenhouse, but ceramic collectibles were outside her comfort level.

  “I love them,” I told her, “but they’re not really for me.” I filled them both in on where I’d seen the figurines and carefully handed them over. Then I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Jessie Pearl. When there was no answer, I debated calling Coco or Sherri. Their relationships with Delta seemed to have been complicated, love and scorn all wound up into one tangled ball of yarn. But I didn’t actually have Sherri’s number, and I’d only just left Coco at her sister’s grave and she might still be there. If she was, I didn’t want to disturb her.

  I needn’t have worried. Once again I heard my name being called from the opposite end of the tent. I turned to see Coco waving at me. “I have a question for you!”

  “I have one for you, too,” I said when she came up alongside me. But before I could ask it, she’d grabbed one of the figurines I’d rescued, clutching it in her white-knuckled hand.

  “Where did you get this?” Her voice had gathered a hard edge to it. She swept her hand over the rest of them, then looked in turn at Mama, Nana, and then me. “All of these. Where did they come from?”

  “They were on the table over there,” I said, pointing to the aisle behind us. “I thought they looked a lot like your mother’s. Do you think they’re hers?”

  She pursed her lips, looking like she was trying hard not to explode with anger. “Oh, there is not a doubt in my mind. I know they are. And I know just how they got here, too. Damn her.”

  “Darlin’,” Mama said to Coco, “you’ve been through a horrible shock, losing your sister. Maybe you ought to sit down here.” She pulled up a stool that was marked for sale at thirteen dollars. It didn’t escape my attention that the stool had a higher asking price than the collectible figurines.

  Coco waved it away. “I prefer to stand.” Her spine had stiffened, and she lifted her chin in defiance, her short blond curls bobbing around her head. “In fact, what I really need to do, right this very minute, is go have a word with Pastor Kyle.”

  “What about the figurines?” I asked, catching her by the arm. “I’m sure we can say they were donated by mistake.”

  “Of course we can’t say that, Harlow. They’re here and they’re for sale. I doubt my mother even knows they’re gone. But she’d be horrified . . . horrified . . . to know that her precious Lladró collectibles were at the church tag sale priced at—”

  She stopped short and backtracked a few steps, picking the Dressmaker up and flipping it over. “Ten dollars?! That’s just . . . I can’t believe . . . Delta would rather give away mother’s things than let me or Sherri have them.”

  “Do you really think that’s why she donated them? But why upset your mother by taking them?” This was a side to Delta I hadn’t seen. Our feud over the goats was based on the herd chowing down on the flowers in Delta’s yard, so even if I didn’t understand the degree to which Delta was disgruntled, I understood why she was upset and how that frustration transferred to the other Cassidy women.

  But if Coco was right, Delta had taken their mother’s precious collectibles and donated them just to spite her sisters.

  “Absolutely,” she said. “Everything with Delta was always a competition. She needed Mother to love her more than she loved Sherri and me.”

  “But why take your mother’s things?” I asked. “If Jessie Pearl discovered that she was giving away her treasures, that whole idea of being loved best would have backfired, wouldn’t it?”

  “Mother’s forgetful. I’m sure Delta could have convinced her that she’d been the one to donate something, or that she’d misplaced something. Whenever Sherri or I noticed something was missing, Delta always had a story. Mother gave it to Megan to sell. She donated it to the women’s shelter. She gave it away to the church.”

  “But why
?”

  Coco’s nostrils flared and her fists clenched. “To make us crazy. She wanted us to think that she was closer to our mother.” She looked around, making sure the coast was clear, then turned back to me and continued. “No one would believe it, of course. We saw her true colors, but most folks only ever saw what Delta wanted them to. She was good at pretending.”

  If what Coco was saying was true, I was awfully glad I hadn’t been able to reach Jessie Pearl. She didn’t need to hear more grief about her murdered daughter. “You can buy them back, Coco.”

  Coco’s chin quivered, her emotions getting the better of her. “I can. You’re right, I definitely can.” She opened up her billfold and pulled out a wad of cash, handing it over to me. “Thank you, Harlow. Now I need to go talk to the pastor.”

  With that she marched out of the tent and into the church.

  And I followed.

  Chapter 12

  Will caught up with me at the entrance to the church. I’d left the money, the figurines, and my overalls and blinged-out jeans with Mama before I’d hurried away after Coco.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Will asked.

  I answered as I pulled him into the church. “To talk to the pastor about . . . about . . .”

  “About what?” he prodded.

  I stopped long enough to furrow my brow. “About Delta Mobley.”

  “Ah, I see,” he said, nodding as if everything was suddenly crystal clear.

  I straightened my glasses, shoving my hair behind my ears. At my temple, the streak of blond that was common to all the Cassidy women tingled. I’d come to use this as a touchstone, almost like a sixth sense. But at the moment, I was puzzled. “You do?” I asked Will, definitely surprised, because things were far from clear in my mind. I had no clear suspects in Delta’s death, and now I’d learned she had a vengeful streak against her sisters. Were they the only ones she targeted, or had she rubbed someone else the wrong way, sending them into a murderous rage against her?