“We’re okay, although it was pretty shocking. The house was totally dark and then we saw Annabelle once I’d found a light switch. I didn’t really find out very much, unfortunately. I think I was more focused keeping the investigation off myself,” said Beatrice ruefully.
“What?” Meadow gaped at her.
“Well, you know. I knew Annabelle in Atlanta and admitted that I wasn’t exactly a fan of hers—before she was murdered and to the police chief,” said Beatrice.
“Yes, but it’s you. Ramsay knows better than to waste his time suspecting you.” The indignation in Meadow’s voice indicated that if he didn’t, Meadow would make sure that he got the message later.
Beatrice sighed. “It’s not only that. It’s the fact that she and I had a falling out over a piece of art.”
“He told me and very sternly told me to keep anything about the weapon hush-hush. I didn’t realize that the sword had a connection to you.” Meadow’s brow furrowed.
Beatrice shrugged. “It wasn’t as if I was absolutely livid over it or as if I tried very hard to find it. It was simply that I had a sentimental connection to it because a friend had given it to me. He was a huge supporter of the museum where I curated . . . both financially and by coming in to shows and exhibits. He was a fascinating person to talk to and he knew that I admired his collection—particularly this ancient sword. I was very touched that he’d remembered me in his will.”
“You should get it back, then,” said Meadow.
Before Meadow could work herself up into outrage level over the stolen sword, Beatrice said, “I’m not sure I really want it now, under the circumstances. And it could be difficult to establish provenance. I’d have to wrestle with Annabelle’s estate. I just don’t think it’s worth it.”
Meadow looked as if she was going to argue the point, but she stopped short. “I can see that. And there wasn’t anything else from last night?”
“There was something. Annabelle’s neighbor came over. Gene. I didn’t know him, but figured that you probably did,” said Beatrice.
Meadow took another sip of her coffee and nodded. “Gene Fitzsimmons. He lives right across the street from Annabelle. He’s a local architect.”
“He came over because he saw Ramsay’s car. At least, that was his excuse. I understand that he wasn’t really thrilled when Annabelle started having that house built,” said Beatrice.
Meadow nodded. “That’s one way of putting it. He’s a stargazer and general nature-lover. He used to have an amazing view of the Blue Ridge mountains until Annabelle built that huge house. He wasn’t happy about it and he let everybody know.”
“So that’s one person who wasn’t happy with Annabelle. I’m guessing he probably also wouldn’t have been happy about the cell phone tower that she wanted installed. That wouldn’t have been attractive on top of the mountain. Anyway, he was able to come up with another name of someone who was displeased with Annabelle. Maybe he wanted to deflect attention from himself.”
“Who was it?” asked Meadow.
“Trixie Campbell,” said Beatrice.
Meadow’s eyes widened, and she put down her coffee mug. “Trixie? What on earth would Trixie have against Annabelle? Did she even know her?”
“I don’t know if she knew her or not, but Gene intimated that Annabelle had a relationship with Trixie’s husband,” said Beatrice.
Meadow’s eyes, if possible, opened even wider. “Annabelle and Elias?”
“Why? What’s wrong with Elias?” asked Beatrice.
“He’s not exactly the sort that Annabelle would be having an affair with,” said Meadow. She sloshed coffee on herself in her amazement and absently dabbed at it with a napkin. “There’s not an ounce of glamour about him. He does really well for himself, though, as a self-employed plumber. But he’s not the sort of tall, dark, handsome guy that I’d imagine someone like Annabelle having an affair with.”
“Maybe there simply aren’t a lot of choices in Dappled Hills,” said Beatrice dryly.
Meadow clucked. “Well, Trixie sure wouldn’t be happy about that. And I wouldn’t want to be on Trixie’s bad side. She seems like the type of person who could have quite a temper. And what’s the deal with Annabelle’s husband? Didn’t you say that they were getting divorced?”
“I have no idea what their status is. I simply guessed that they might not be together soon. They led very separate lives in Atlanta and I can’t imagine that distance has made it any better,” said Beatrice.
Meadow nodded. “Okay. So we have our plan for today.”
“Do we?” asked Beatrice.
“How do your nails look?” demanded Meadow.
Beatrice glanced down to check. Unless they broke, she didn’t give her fingernails a second thought. “Like they always do. Neatly trimmed.”
“Well, today we’re going to get them bedazzled. We’ll buy a treat for ourselves. Trixie will do our nails for us,” said Meadow. “She does hair, too, but I don’t find getting my hair done relaxing. Too much chit-chat.”
As if Meadow didn’t engage in chit-chat whatsoever.
Beatrice said, “Manicures as a treat? As a treat for what?”
“You just discovered a body yesterday! And I have just gone through the trauma of hearing that my good friend is a suspect in a murder trial. We most certainly do need manicures,” said Meadow emphatically. “And that way we have a natural reason to talk to Trixie about Annabelle. But we don’t even just have a stressful situation that we should treat ourselves for. We also have reason to celebrate!”
“We do?” asked Beatrice doubtfully.
“Have you heard the news? Isn’t it wonderful?” asked Meadow.
“About Piper and Ash moving back to Dappled Hills?” asked Beatrice. She sighed. “I haven’t even had the chance to say anything to Wyatt about it. That’s how crazy last night was.”
“Well of course about them moving back. I am absolutely tickled pink! And we’d just been talking about it, too, that very day. This is going to work out perfectly. I mean, I understand about Ash wanting to be around his job and all, but it makes so much more sense for them to be based out of Dappled Hills. After all, we’re here,” said Meadow.
Beatrice snorted. “And we’re the most important reason, are we? See, that’s just what I was worried about. I didn’t want to be the reason that Piper and Ash wanted to move back. And I don’t know that to be the reason, but something that Piper said made me think that maybe she wanted to be close to us because of health reasons. That time I was on crutches was a total anomaly—you know I’m usually as healthy as a horse.”
Meadow blinked at her. “What on earth are you muttering about? Are you insane? We get to have Piper and Ash near us. Who cares why they’re doing it? For heaven’s sake, I’d have pushed you down the stairs myself if I’d thought that would bring them back full-time to Dappled Hills!”
Forty-five minutes later and after having taken Noo-noo on a short walk, Beatrice and Meadow were at the nail salon picking out colors. Meadow chose a grayish blue shade while Beatrice perused the very-light pink section.
Meadow sighed. “You should try stepping out of your comfort zone. Go a little wild with your color.”
Beatrice frowned. “I can’t see myself going to church on Sunday as The Minister’s Wife and wearing Summer Scandal Scarlet on my fingertips. Somehow the two things don’t mesh.”
“At least you could give everyone something to talk about. You’re such an upstanding citizen that you don’t offer anything for the gossips,” said Meadow. “Although a past connection with a murder victim might change things up a little bit.”
Beatrice’s retort was cut off by a smiling woman with very long, red fingernails that Beatrice figured must be Summer Scandal Scarlet. She wore lots of eye makeup, which did little to soften her rather tough appearance. The woman was tall, taller than Beatrice and Beatrice was tall, herself.
“Hi there dumplin’,” said the woman in a low drawl. “Good to see ya.” She gave Meadow a hug
and then put out a hand to Beatrice.
Beatrice delicately shook it, trying not to be stabbed by the nails in the process.
Meadow said, “Trixie, this is Beatrice Coleman.”
Trixie said, “Pleasure. What a great name! Makes me think of Peter Rabbit and little mice and whatnot.”
Beatrice smiled. “Beatrix Potter. A similar name, though. And I was always a huge fan of her work.”
Trixie nodded. “Fun stuff. Y’all picked out your colors?”
Meadow said, “I think so. We’re trying to give ourselves a treat today.”
Trixie grinned at her, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. “Well, hon, you’ve picked the right place to do it.”
Another nail technician worked on Meadow’s hands while Trixie worked on Beatrice’s. “So what is it that y’all so desperately need a break from then? Quilting?” She smiled at Beatrice. “Dumplin’ over there will never let me put on acrylics because of her quilting. Says it’ll get in the way of her hand-piecing and whatnot. And she’s tried to get me to join a guild for years.”
Beatrice could only imagine.
Meadow chimed in, “We need a treat to distract us from something really awful. The most horrible thing happened last night. I’m sure you’ve probably already heard about it because they were even talking in the coffee shop this morning. Annabelle Tremont is dead.”
There was an undefined glitter in Trixie’s eyes. “I did hear about that. But at a salon, you hear everything, practically before it even happens.”
“Did Annabelle ever stop in here?” asked Beatrice.
Trixie shrugged. “She came in here once, snooty as you please. Complained about the polish selection, didn’t like the colors we carried, and was rude about my nails. Can you believe it?”
Beatrice could certainly believe it. That sounded exactly like Annabelle.
Trixie paused and gave Beatrice and Meadow a considering look before saying, “Look, there’s probably talk all over town, right? The way I see it is that it’s good for me to put my own story out there to counteract the gossip.”
“Your own story?” gaped Meadow.
“That’s right. You see, I’m not real happy with Elias right now and I wasn’t real happy with Miss Snooty either, truth be told. Those two were having an affair.” Trixie said the word as if it caused a bad taste in her mouth. She studied both of them and then gave a harsh laugh. “See what I mean? Neither one of y’all is even surprised at that news. Word gets around. Anyway, here’s what happened. I found out about the affair, see.”
Meadow and Beatrice nodded. Meadow asked breathlessly, “How did you find out?”
“Because Elias ain’t all that bright sometimes. I love him and all, but sometimes he ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed, know what I mean? He just couldn’t keep up with all the secrets. Plus, he was dumb enough to put Miss Snooty’s number and name into his contacts list. She texted him when he was taking the trash out and I saw his phone light up with her name, number, and even a picture.”
Meadow gasped. “Were you furious?”
Trixie shrugged. “You know, sometimes when I’m really mad, I just get super-still. I think that scares Elias more than anything. Anyway, I confronted him with it and he confessed right away. Hung his head and looked all pitiful. I gave him an ultimatum.”
Beatrice said, “And he stopped the affair.”
Trixie gave a pleased bob of her head. “Sure as shootin’. He knew what side his bread was buttered on. That Annabelle wasn’t going to marry him and make him the king of her castle, was she? Better to take the life you know and stick with the one who stuck with you.”
Meadow said, “You seem like you have such a good attitude about it all. Weren’t you mad?”
“Livid,” drawled Trixie. “But I knew that Elias was going to come to his senses, and he did. I blame that woman for it, a hundred percent. He’s never done anything like that before and I don’t think he ever will again.”
“Did you ever approach Annabelle about it?” asked Beatrice as Trixie put a topcoat on her polish. She had to admit that her nails had never looked better. She should have come here to get her nails done before the wedding instead of attempting the job herself.
“Nope,” said Trixie, leaning over to focus on the task at hand. “Would have lost my temper, wouldn’t I? I didn’t like her and didn’t want to spend time with her, anyway.” She jerked her head up to look at Beatrice and Meadow. “And before any of the town busybodies start flapping their jaws, I had nothing to do with Miss Snooty’s death.”
“Were you at the festival last night?” asked Meadow.
“Couldn’t make it, which is a shame since I absolutely love the fair food. I could eat my weight in those Krispy Kreme Doughnuts dipped in bacon. But I worked late last night and was the one who closed up the shop, so I couldn’t make it by. I wouldn’t have wanted to go by myself, anyway, and Elias wasn’t available. It was too bad that I stayed here late because nobody came in. Guess they were all at the festival.” Trixie sat back and surveyed her own work with a critical eye.
Beatrice said, “You’ve done an amazing job, Trixie.”
She grinned at her. “It’s not half-bad, is it?”
Meadow wiggled her own brightly colored nails and sighed. “I always feel so much better when I’ve had my nails done.”
“Spread the word,” said Trixie with a dry cackle. Beatrice suspected a smoking habit.
Beatrice asked, “Going back to Annabelle’s death for a second. Do you have any idea who could have done such a thing? Was anyone upset with Annabelle that you know about? I’m guessing as someone who works in a salon that you hear a lot of town gossip.”
Trixie lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, sweetie, I hear it all. Good, bad, and ugly. Can’t help it. People seem to pour out their souls to their hairdressers, bartenders, and nail techs. I can tell you that Annabelle had people talking about her all the time. Most folks were just curious. Some thought her big house was tacky and didn’t fit into the landscape or Dappled Hills in general.”
Meadow nodded. “It did sort of stand out.”
“Worse than a sore thumb,” said Trixie emphatically. “I’ve never set foot in the house, but I bet it’s just as tacky on the inside as it is on the outside. Then there were those folks who complained that she wasn’t sociable at all.”
Beatrice said ruefully, “Introverts aren’t really tolerated in the small-town setting.”
Trixie shrugged. “Depends on the introvert. We’ve got some quiet people here that like to keep to themselves. And folks just leave them alone, figuring that they are just minding their own business and prefer their own company. But then there are other introverts, the kind like Annabelle. She has just a little too much money and status to keep to herself if you know what I mean. Wouldn’t have hurt her to go out for brunch with a group of girls, you know. Better than trying to steal other people’s husbands, anyway.” Her eyes glittered with sarcastic humor.
Beatrice said slowly, “You’re saying that when a rich person wants to keep to themselves, other people translate that as being snooty or condescending.”
Trixie nodded. “Exactly. Especially when she acts that way in public all the time, anyway.” She paused. “There was one person who acted like she disliked Miss Annabelle more than most. Goldie.”
Beatrice lifted her eyebrows. “Goldie as in Goldie Parsons, our downtown revitalization person?”
Meadow said, “Surely she couldn’t do something like that?” Meadow had a habit of acting completely scandalized at the notion that anyone she knew, or really, anyone in the town of Dappled Hills, could have done something illegal.
Trixie smiled at her. “I know exactly what you mean. Seems like a real girl scout, doesn’t she? Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But I’m telling you, she was upset something fierce at Annabelle Tremont.”
Beatrice said, “Did this have anything to do with the fact that Annabelle wanted to put a cell phone tower up on the top of the mo
untain?”
Trixie said, “That was one of the reasons. She was also upset that Annabelle was so scornful and condescending of what she’s trying to do downtown.”
“Wait,” said Meadow, sounding outraged, “You’re saying that Annabelle somehow found fault with the way that Goldie is trying to make Dappled Hills a better place? The heritage program, the recycling program, the downtown revitalization, the tourism?”
Trixie shrugged again. “She just said that Annabelle called the town a dump. That made her so mad that she had tears coming out of her eyes.”
“I should say so!” said Meadow indignantly. “The very idea. The mountain vistas make Dappled Hills a destination and downtown is absolutely charming with the cute shops, great dining and the beautiful old buildings with the exposed brick walls.”
Trixie raised her eyebrows. “Sounds like you should be working in Goldie’s office, Meadow. But then, you’ve always been a cheerleader for Dappled Hills.”
“What else did Goldie say?” asked Beatrice.
“She was mad that Annabelle had belittled her work and said that Goldie’s efforts were useless. And she was mad that Annabelle didn’t say it privately but in a public forum—a town hall meeting. Goldie had given this full presentation to the small business owners and local residents with all the things she was working on. Then Annabelle stood up and ranted about how Dappled Hills wasn’t going anywhere with her plan. That Dappled Hills needed to focus more on being a resort town that had more high-end amenities and stuff.”
Beatrice said, “Goldie was embarrassed at Annabelle calling her out like that, I’m sure.”
“Or furious,” said Trixie with a laconic smile as she put Beatrice’s nails under the dryer.
Meadow said, “Still, I can’t see Goldie Parsons heading over to Annabelle’s house and killing her over some hurt feelings.”
Trixie snorted. “You didn’t see Goldie’s face or hear her when she was talking about it.”
Chapter Five
WHEN BEATRICE AND MEADOW’S nails were dry, they stood to go.
On Pins and Needles Page 5