A Custom Fit Crime

by Melissa Bourbon

  “Darlin’, I’ve told you before, I’d like you to consider me your grandmama. A girl can never have too many grandmothers, you know.”

  Gracie gulped, her chest noticeably heaving. “I c-can’t w-wear it.”

  “But it’s brand-new,” I said. “There’s no history associated with it.” So far, Gracie’s charm had only related to vintage garments. Maybe it was evolving, just as my own realization of my charms was.

  I took the bag, withdrawing the dress from it and hanging it on a hook next to Midori’s pieces, standing back for a moment to ponder. Nothing unusual jumped out at me about the dress. The cut was impeccable. The darts were expertly done. The hem was wide and straight.

  Gracie’s deer-in-the-headlights expression faded. She came up next to me. Her jaw tensed, right alongside her body, as if she were bracing herself for a whuppin’ or some other horrible situation. But there was no whuppin’ heading her way.

  Except it was. She lifted her arm, opening and closing her hand as if she was gearing up for what she was about to do. And then, before I could stop her, bam! her arm shot out and she grabbed a wad of fabric from one of the dresses, squeezed her eyes shut, and stood stock-still.

  “Baby—” Will started, but Mrs. James touched his arm and he broke off. A visible shudder passed through Gracie. His own jaw tightened just as his daughter’s had, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged as Gracie’s eyes closed and she slipped into what seemed like a trance.

  We watched her in silence as she released the first dress, shuffled to her left, and repeated the process with the next dress. Her actions were identical, right down to the way she stood, her heels planted firmly on the floor, as if roots had sprung from her soles and gripped her in place.

  I felt Will’s hand brush mine, and then he took it into his, squeezing. I didn’t want to look away from Gracie, but I tore my gaze from her for a split second and snuck a look up at him. He stared straight ahead, his attention fully on his daughter. He’d grabbed my hand without realizing it, seeking something to ground him where he was. I knew the feeling. Another second on my own and I would have lunged to Gracie and ripped her away from the clothing that was filling her with such turmoil.

  “She’s okay,” I said softly, hoping my voice would get through to him. There was one thing I knew for certain about Butch Cassidy’s wish in Argentina so long ago. While it had posed problems for the Cassidy women over the years, none of us had ever suffered because of our charms. They were inherently good. Gracie might be struggling as she adjusted to her gift, but she wasn’t in danger. Nothing bad would happen to her. I knew that as surely as I drew breath into my body.

  Chapter 30

  Gracie perched on the stool at the cutting table cradling a cup of sweet iced tea, the outside of the glass beading with condensation. “I kept seeing these flowers. Pink and purple and white,” she said. “And then this weird river of white gooey cream. And that lady, the designer from Japan? She’s walking through this field, picking the flowers and turning them upside down and shaking them.”

  Gracie’s vision sounded much more like a nightmare than something that had really happened. And it had nothing to do with the dresses, unless Midori had been wearing each one while in a river of cream. Which seemed highly unlikely.

  “What could it mean?” she asked, looking at me as if I would know the answer right off the bat.

  “I wish I knew.” I’d looked at the hems one more time, but I still had no idea why they’d be so uneven or what it was that bothered me about them. I hoped I’d have another chance to look, but that would have to wait.

  I glanced behind me to where Beaulieu’s garment bags hung. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before, but maybe they held a clue. I circled around the cutting table. As I approached the garment bags, my gaze hitched on two bolts of fabric Midori had brought with her. The ones she’d told me that she carried with her always, in case inspiration struck. “What if that’s not the reason?” I mused.

  Will and Gracie were by my side again, Gracie asking, “What if what?”

  Fabric wound around a cylindrical piece of cardboard was heavy and unwieldy. It had struck me as odd that Midori would drag these around with her. I tried to put myself in her shoes. I had an armoire filled with fabric, as well as bolts lined up against the wall. Upstairs in the spare bedroom, the closet held even more fabric. Was there any that I’d deem so important that I’d haul it around with me wherever I went? My gut response was no, there wasn’t any fabric that special to me.

  I did a mental walk-through of everything I had ever owned, giving it another try. Again, I came up with the same response. No.

  A crazy idea sparked in my mind. I crouched down and started to grab hold of one of the bolts, but Will intervened. “I’ll get it.”

  I smiled my thanks, then patted my hand on the cutting table. “Right here, please.”

  He laid it down, the two open ends of the cylinder hanging off either side of the table. I poked my fingers inside, feeling around. For what, I didn’t know, but there had to be something.

  A momentary twinge of guilt slipped over me. I didn’t have anything other than a bit of odd behavior that pointed the finger at Midori. “I’m sure there’s nothing here.”

  “If she had something to hide in there, she wouldn’t just leave it sitting here, would she?” Gracie asked.

  I’d thought the same thing, except . . . “Maybe, but then again, it was odd enough that she brought it with her. If she hauled it around with her to keep an eye on it, that would look suspicious. Just leaving it here would be the normal thing to do. It is a dressmaking shop, after all.”

  “Makes sense,” Will said. “It would look strange for me to haul around blueprints everywhere I went, or project materials. If I were trying to hide something, I’d leave them where they were safe and where they’d blend in.”

  I crouched down and peered into the hollow of the cardboard. The light from the window made it easy to see right through to the other end. There were no obstructions. Nothing packed inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. So much for that idea.

  Will picked up the bolt again, putting it back where it had been.

  “I don’t know what I thought I’d find,” I said. I gestured wide with my hands, frustration settling over me. The answers to whatever had happened to Beaulieu just weren’t coming.

  The bells on the front door jingled and Midori walked in, my finished maid of honor dress draped over her arm in a pliable garment bag. Orphie roused herself on the settee, and Will, Gracie, Mrs. James, and I all froze. We’d put the bolt of fabric away just in time.

  “Let’s go, baby,” Will said to Gracie. He grabbed the sweetheart dress, brushed his lips against my cheek, and said, “Off to pick up your mom. See you at the church.”

  I thanked him, and moved aside as Midori came into the workroom. “I hope you like this,” she said, hanging the garment bag on the hook next to her other dresses. She put down her bag.

  Orphie came in and sat on the stool Gracie had just vacated. “May I?” she asked, reaching for the sketchbook peeking out of the bag.

  “It’s Jeanette’s,” Midori said, but she pulled it out and handed it to her. “Sorry to hear about your situation. Very scary ordeal,” she said. “You are lucky.”

  Orphie smiled wanly. She opened the book, leafing through the pages as Midori turned back to me.

  “Your work is beautiful,” I said, running my hand down the side of a black, red, and cream color-blocked dress, and I chastised myself for even suspecting Midori could be up to anything illicit. She was a great designer, not a murderer. The design was simple, as most of Midori’s things were, but it had a clean, classic cut that would compliment most figures. It reminded me of a few of Beaulieu’s recent pieces, and just like that, my doubt about Midori resurfaced.

  “Thank you.” S
he unzipped the bag, showing me what she’d been working on for the last two days, her personal distraction from the murder investigation.

  Slowly, the dress was revealed and I was speechless. It could have been a wedding gown itself, it was so meticulously crafted. The strapless bodice was entirely ruched, the skirt, which would hang to the floor, flared at the base and spread into a small gathered train in back, and just at the hipline, a good several inches below the waist, she’d put in what looked like a Western belt with two offset rhinestone ornaments that were reminiscent of buckles, but were situated near the hipbones rather than in the center. They added a whimsical flair to the design.

  “Wow,” Orphie said, looking up from the lookbook. “That is beautiful! And perfect for you, Harlow.”

  Midori smiled. “I think so.”

  It was stunning. But was it me? I didn’t do strapless, and while I knew what to do to work with a woman’s body, I didn’t often do extremely fitted things for myself.

  “It’s very sexy,” I said, letting my fingers dance over the fabric.

  Midori angled her head, her sleek black hair falling over one eye as she studied the dress. “Just sexy enough.”

  “Agree,” Orphie said, holding her arm up as if she were casting a vote.

  Midori pulled the short train from the garment bag. “I am quite good with fitting. I have an eye for size and shape, but please try it on in case I need to make some last-second adjustments.”

  Last second. Oh boy. I checked the clock. The wedding was in fifty minutes and I hadn’t even showered. “Okay,” I said, “but I’ll just be a minute.” I raced upstairs and jumped in the shower. The phone rang just after I’d stepped under the hot water, but whoever it was would have to wait. I finished my shower in record time and then dried my hair, piling it up in an artfully messy bun. Maybe the dress would work. It was gorgeous.

  I applied a touch of makeup, threw on a lightweight robe, and hightailed it back downstairs. Will was probably getting ready to go pick up Mama. Before too long, the wedding guests would be arriving at the church. Time was running out.

  As I entered the workroom, Midori came right toward me. “Try on your dress. It’s time for the wedding, yes?”

  It was a strange feeling to slip behind the privacy screen to try something on. In truth, I’d never done it before, preferring to stay on the other side of the room, designing things for other people. I hung my robe on one of the hooks I’d provided for my customers and stepped into the dress, holding it up at the bodice with one arm as I emerged to have Midori zip up the back. “I told you, I have an eye for size and shape,” she said. “It is perfect.”

  I stepped into the cream-colored pumps I’d brought down with me and moved to the mirror. The moment I saw my reflection, I caught my breath. True, the dress was nothing I’d ever have made for myself, and yet, just like the designs I created for other people, it was perfect on me. The bodice hugged my body, the skirt felt like air against the curves of my hips, the fabric flaring at the knees, giving me an hourglass shape.

  “Lord almighty, you’re a vision.” Nana had come in through the kitchen’s Dutch door and now gazed at me as if I were a princess. “It’s your mama’s weddin’, but, darlin’, you might could steal the show. At least to one man,” she added, throwing in a wink.

  “One man named Will Flores,” Orphie said.

  “You’re both incorrigible,” I said to them, but inside, I smiled. I wouldn’t mind having Will think I’d stolen the show. His proclamation of love still stuck with me. Being on the other side of things was a strange sensation, and I suddenly knew what my customers felt as they tried on my creations. Renewed. Energized. Like a better version of themselves.

  In typical Coleta Cassidy fashion, Nana changed the subject. “Harlow, your granddaddy’s waitin’. It’s time to go.”

  Orphie slowly rose from the settee. She was gussied up and ready for the wedding, but still pale and drawn. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” I asked her.

  “No way am I missing Will’s face when he sees you,” she said, smiling.

  We’d also invited Midori, Jeanette, the four models, Lindy, and Quinton. We couldn’t call ourselves Southerners if we didn’t extend our hospitality to our guests, murder suspects or not. I knew Midori was coming, but the others hadn’t RSVP’d, so I had no idea if they’d make it to the chapel and the reception, just to the reception, or not at all.

  Midori had changed into a sheath dress made from another printed chirimen crepe, this one with a bright pink and teal background, lots of flowers, and whimsy that once again reminded me of an old-fashioned kimono. It was an odd combination of fabric and design, almost discordant, and yet it worked.

  We hurried out to my granddaddy’s SUV sitting in front of the house and raced to the chapel, barely getting there on time. By the time we arrived, most of the guests were there, seated in the pews, voices low and anxious as they waited. A local fiddle player played up-tempo bluegrass—not your typical wedding music, but what Mama had wanted.

  Will was there, standing toward the front of the sanctuary near the altar, hands in his pockets, black slacks, a casual cotton button-down shirt and tie giving him a rugged dapper look. But none of that could hide the fact that he seemed stiff and uncomfortable.

  It only took a second to realize why . . . and to remember the missed phone call. Hoss wasn’t standing up there with him. And Mama wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  My heart sank. We’d both failed. There wasn’t going to be a wedding.

  Chapter 31

  “I can’t believe she didn’t show up,” I whispered to Nana and Granddaddy after I’d powwowed with Will. He stayed in the front of the church, a stoic sentry that we hoped would keep the speculation about the missing groom at bay. “What are we supposed to tell folks?”

  My granddaddy Dalton rocked back on his heels, his arms folded over his chest. His lips were drawn into a thin line. “The truth.”

  But the truth was, none of us knew where she was. I peeked my head around the corner and smiled wanly at Will, lifting my hand in a subtle wave from the back of the church. It didn’t do anything to calm my nerves, and I’m sure it didn’t do anything to simmer down whatever uncertainty was circling inside Will.

  We gave it another ten minutes, but Mama still didn’t show. I called her house. No answer. All of her friends were sitting right here in the pews, so I was at a loss. Where could she be?

  Nana and Granddaddy had their heads together, whispering, but I could only see the expression on Will’s face, his jaw tight under his goatee, as he finally left his post and came into the vestibule at the back of the church. He stopped when he saw me, as if it were the first time. Looked me up and down, his eyes smoldering. And then he was next to me, taking my hand in his and drawing me close. “You’re still gorgeous, Cassidy,” he said, his voice low in my ear.

  Everything around us faded away and for a few seconds I forgot Mama, the wedding that wasn’t happening, and all the people in the church wondering what was going on. I forgot about Beaulieu, Orphie, Midori, and the fact that there was a murderer walking among us.

  For a few seconds I couldn’t think at all. My heart thundered in my chest, and I wanted nothing more than to have Will’s arms around me so I could forget everything except that he loved me.

  But Nana’s and Granddaddy’s whispers brought me back to reality. Will sensed it, too. He let me go and stepped back, swallowing the desire I was sure was coursing through him.

  “You checked the greenhouse?” Nana asked him for the third time.

  “The greenhouse, the neighbors, the whole house. Her car was there, but she wasn’t.”

  Panic started to set in. Where was she? What had happened to Beaulieu and to Orphie zoomed to the front of my mind. What if something had happened to her?

  But of course that wasn’t logical. Orphie and Beaulieu were at least peripherally connected through Maximilian’s book. Mama had nothing to do with that, so she wasn’t in any d
anger. She was just running from her own fear of committing to Hoss. I was her excuse.

  Gavin appeared in the vestibule, Orphie on his arm, looking pale but managing to keep up a brave face. “So your mama got cold feet, eh?” he said.

  “Your dad, too,” I shot back.

  “He was just smart enough to stay away so he wouldn’t be humiliated by your mother,” he said.

  Will’s hand tightened, right along with his jaw. “He’s the one that started this by thinking Harlow could be a killer.”

  Orphie cleared her throat, sounding weak, but it was enough to stop us from bickering.

  “You’ve called him?”

  “I have,” Gavin said. “He’s not picking up.”

  Granddaddy, Nana, and I looked at each other, communicating silently between us. “Mama’s not answering. Hoss isn’t picking up. They might could be—”

  “Together,” they said in unison.

  Gavin lifted his chin indignantly. “No, I don’t believe that. The sheriff isn’t one to go kowtowing to some woman who’s stood him up.”

  “She didn’t stand him up,” I said, hands on my hips. “They just had a misunderstanding.”

  “They’re practically hitched, even if they aren’t churched,” Granddaddy said. “They love each other. I have every confidence they’ll work out their differences.”

  Granddaddy straightened his bolo tie, held his chin up, and marched down the aisle. “Folks,” he said, holding up his hand when he reached the front of the church. “Y’all know Tessa. She does things her own way, and her own way today means she’s decided not to get hitched. All y’all are welcome to come on back to Seven Gables. Nothing says we can’t have some good vittles and good company, even without the bride and groom.”