“Before you head out, you should try this shampoo. It’s on sale this week and it performs miracles on your hair,” said Trixie in a practiced but persuasive voice.
Beatrice demurred, but Meadow asked, “Does it take care of split ends? I’m always having a problem with those.” She gestured to her long, gray braid.
Trixie nodded. “You’ll be amazed.”
“Okay, sure, I’ll give it a try.”
A few minutes later, they were leaving with a bottle of shampoo in hand. Beatrice was ready to head out before any more sales pitches were made.
“Don’t you feel better?” asked Meadow. “There’s something about getting your nails done that just helps me to destress.”
“I feel better except for the fact that there are even more leads now as to who might have murdered Annabelle,” said Beatrice.
Meadow rolled her eyes. “Do you really think that Goldie Parsons could have something to do with Annabelle’s death? You’ve seen her—she’s as wholesome as they come. Her parents should have named her Goodie instead of Goldie. Trixie is right—she’s a girl scout.”
Beatrice said, “I’ll admit that I have a hard time picturing it. But then, I have a hard time seeing anyone in Dappled Hills as a killer. Gene Fitzsimmons is as mild-mannered as they come. I mean, the guy admitted to spending his evening with a crossword puzzle and classical music. But from all accounts, he was apparently furious over Annabelle blocking his view with her house. And Trixie seems easy-going but I can’t imagine she was as laid-back as she seemed over Elias’s affair with Annabelle.”
Meadow nodded. “I know what you mean. I can’t really picture Trixie sitting down and having a calm and businesslike meeting with her husband and quietly give him an ultimatum. There must have been more to it than that. I don’t think Trixie would take kindly to being treated that way.”
“So if Gene and Trixie could get that angry, why couldn’t Goldie get fired up when Annabelle publicly humiliated her? Maybe having her efforts belittled like that was the final straw and Goldie lost it,” said Beatrice.
“And tramped over to Annabelle’s house, pulled an ancient ceremonial sword off the wall, and stabbed Annabelle with it?” asked Meadow as if the vision in her mind was completely incompatible with what she knew of Goldie.
“Let’s go over and talk with Goldie. We have time, don’t we?” asked Beatrice.
Meadow said, “Do we?”
“I don’t know, I’m asking you,” said Beatrice with a grin. “I’ve suddenly even managed to forget what day of the week it is and what my schedule looks like.”
Meadow said, “Because it’s been too busy! It’s the weekend, so there probably aren’t any plans. Of course, weekends are busy for Wyatt. That’s when he really has to get that sermon nailed down before it’s delivered on Sunday. But as far as I know, you and I don’t have anything going on. Oh, except for the guild meeting on Monday. Posy’s hosting it at her shop, remember?”
“Got it,” said Beatrice. “So let’s see if we can catch up with Goldie. I guess she’ll be in the town hall?”
“She’s either in the town hall or she’s out walking around downtown, visiting small business owners,” said Meadow. “Goldie is always working. She’s doing her best to make Dappled Hills even better and I can’t for the life of me figure out why Annabelle would make her feel badly about her efforts. I love the downtown revitalization she’s starting. But let’s run by the Patchwork Cottage on the way. I need to pick up a couple of things there for my latest project.”
The two women entered the Patchwork Cottage minutes later. Posy was the shop owner and had created a cozy craft haven in the store. Quilts hung everywhere, even over an antique washstand and an old sewing machine. She now had a display case where proud local quilters would hang pictures of their award-winning quilts. Soft music was piped in, usually by a local artist. And today, the cozy atmosphere was enhanced by the smell of brownies. Posy had apparently been cooking and the delicious results were on a small table along with a pitcher of sweet tea.
Posy immediately came over and gave them both a quick hug. As usual, she was wearing a fluffy cardigan sweater (this was a light blue with a whimsical cat pin on it) and a kind expression. Beatrice had often thought how sweet her friend was and how funny it was that she’d always had such a good relationship with her rather irascible husband, Cork.
“Come have some brownies,” she said. “Otherwise, you’re dooming me to eating them, myself!”
“I keep forgetting that you have a kitchen here,” said Meadow. “We should throw a party here some time. I could cook for us!”
Posy’s eyes twinkled. “That sounds delicious except for the fact that it’s a miniature kitchen. I’m not sure how much cooking you could do. It’s perfect for a batch of brownies, though.”
Beatrice had a bite of one. “Mm. At some point, I’m going to be paying from the fact that I’ve been eating all of this good food lately. Breakfast at Meadow’s, June Bug’s cake, and now brownies at the quilt shop!” She put a hand lightly on her tummy as if expecting it to puff up from the long litany of delicious food. Then she startled, feeling something brush against her leg.
Posy smiled at her. “It’s just Maisie,” she said.
“I must be a little jumpy still,” muttered Beatrice as she reached down to stroke the shop cat.
The door chimed, and they turned around to see Goldie Parsons walk in. Meadow, never one to be subtle, jabbed Beatrice pointedly with her elbow.
Goldie beamed at them, dimples flashing. “It smells like brownies in here!” She had brown hair which she’d pulled up into a ponytail. She had on a rather shapeless skirt and top and shoes designed for comfort instead of style.
Posy said, “Good to see you, Goldie!”
Meadow said with a delighted smile, “Are you taking up quilting?”
Goldie put a hand out as if to ward off an over-zealous Meadow. It was wise to stop her before she went into full-fledged rush mode. Beatrice had been the recipient of her recruitment strategies before.
Goldie said, “I’m afraid not! But I admire them,” she added quickly as Meadow’s face became crestfallen. “No, I’m here today as part of the downtown revitalization project. I was also going to go by Cork’s store, but I figured maybe I could knock out two birds with one stone and you could fill him in, Posy?”
Posy smiled at her. “Of course I can. Cork and I have been so pleased with all of your work for Dappled Hills. Your anti-litter campaign worked out so well. I love how the streets are so much cleaner.”
Meadow said, “And the campaign is still going strong! Having a group of volunteers to pick up what litter there is was a great idea. I never see trash on the sides of the roads anymore.”
Goldie looked pleased. “Thanks so much! Now let me tell y’all about the next step in our tourism and revitalization efforts.”
For the next five or ten minutes, Goldie ran through a list of objectives for her department and how shop owners could help out. Beatrice and Meadow ate brownies and listened in.
At the end, Posy said warmly, “Well, it all sounds just terrific. Cork and I will be happy to help out, of course. I know that we’re going to end up being a tourist destination, especially with the plans that you have.”
Meadow said, “I’ve always said that an apple festival would be a wonderful idea here. Other towns do it and have tons of tourists that come in. We could have bounce-houses, face-painting, and balloon animals for the kids and then music and food trucks for the adults.”
“You should try to persuade the orchards to have a ‘pick your own apples’ day to coincide with the festival,” offered Beatrice. “That’s always popular in the big cities. They love to come out to small towns and do that sort of thing. It makes everyone feel good, heading off into the country to do something that you can’t do in an urban area. I bet a lot of folks from Charlotte would head over.”
Goldie carefully made notes in her notebook. “Great idea!”
The bell c
himed again and Posy said, “Excuse me,” as she hurried off to help a customer.
Meadow gave Beatrice a pointed look and Beatrice said, “These seem like such smart plans for the town. I can’t imagine who would ever be against them.”
Goldie made a face. “Well, now I feel bad saying anything, but unfortunately not everybody has been on board.” She paused and then continued in a low voice, “Annabelle Tremont was particularly outspoken about them.”
“But why? I don’t understand what she could possibly have had against them,” said Meadow.
Goldie sighed. “I think she believed that Dappled Hills was too sweet and provincial. She wanted the town to be more like Atlanta instead of playing up our cuteness.”
Beatrice said, “Surely not. The whole reason that people like Annabelle and me move away from places like Atlanta is to escape the city and find a completely different experience.”
Goldie nodded. “Of course. But Annabelle’s expectations were apparently not in line with the move. She expected that we would still offer the same amenities that she was able to find in Atlanta. And the same services. She was hoping we could build Dappled Hills into more of a resort instead of focusing on family-friendly festivals.”
Beatrice said, “I understand that she wasn’t pleasant about it, either.”
“You could say that. She was very condescending about it. Annabelle thought that we were taking completely the wrong approach,” said Goldie unhappily. She paused and then added, as if being unable to say something unpleasant about someone, “But I think her heart was in the right place. She wanted Dappled Hills to be more successful. She just had a different vision.”
Meadow snorted. “I don’t think that she was concerned about Dappled Hills at all. I think she simply wanted to have the convenience of getting the luxuries that she was used to in Atlanta. She wanted to make Dappled Hills upscale.” This idea apparently infuriated Meadow, and she flushed an angry red.
Beatrice said, “At any rate, Annabelle and her unpopular opinions are no longer around.”
Goldie looked guilty. “Yes. And I feel terrible about the ugly emotions I still have about her. I understand that she was murdered.” She winced at the last word. Murder and town improvement usually didn’t go hand-in-hand. Then she put her hand on her mouth. “Didn’t I hear that you and Wyatt discovered her?”
Beatrice said, “That’s right.” She shivered and tried not to think of that moment when the lights had come on and she’d seen Annabelle’s body.
“Did you find out any more information about what happened?” asked Goldie. “I mean, it just seems so unreal that I can’t wrap my head around it. One moment she’s alive and well and so . . . vital. The next thing I hear, she’s gone. It’s just so abrupt.”
Beatrice said, “All I can really say is that the house wasn’t broken into. She probably knew her attacker.”
This was too much for Meadow. Despite realizing that the killer must be a town resident and not someone from out of town, she said, “Maybe not! Maybe Annabelle just kept her door unlocked all the time. Maybe some sort of itinerant criminal stopped by and murdered her.”
Beatrice raised her eyebrows. “Without stealing anything? Unless you know something from Ramsay that I don’t.”
Meadow’s shoulders slumped. “No, he mentioned this morning that nothing appeared to be stolen. Annabelle’s husband was actually somewhere in Dappled Hills yesterday. He wasn’t at the house though, obviously. Ramsay said he’d been fishing or hiking or something.”
Beatrice said, “And no one who is used to living in Atlanta keeps their door unlocked. That simply wouldn’t be a habit that they’d have.”
Goldie said with a frown, “So Annabelle’s husband is here? Somehow I had the impression that she didn’t have a husband.”
Probably because Annabelle was having affairs and wasn’t careful about keeping them quiet. Beatrice said, “She does. His name is Arnold. I didn’t realize that he was in town, however. I think that they probably live apart most of the time. Maybe he came up to visit for the weekend.”
Goldie blinked. “That seems like a very strange way to conduct a marriage.”
“I guess it worked for them,” said Beatrice with a shrug. She paused. “Goldie, do you have any idea who might have done something like this? I know Annabelle wasn’t the most popular person in town.”
Goldie gave a nervous laugh. “I probably would have thought it was you, Beatrice, if I didn’t know you. I’m sorry. It’s just that none of us knew Annabelle well here and you appear to have more background with her. At least, from what I’ve heard in town.” She blushed a little. “Sorry. Of course you didn’t have anything to do with it. Folks just know that you were acquainted with her in Atlanta and were wondering what your connection was. Aside from you, probably Devlin.”
Meadow stared. “Of course Beatrice didn’t have anything to do with it. She was on her way over to give Annabelle cake, for heaven’s sake. And now you’re mentioning Devlin? Devlin Wilson?”
“That’s right.” She said quickly, “Oh dear, it looks as if you didn’t know. He was having an affair with Annabelle. Except I didn’t realize until just now when you said that she was married that it was an affair. I thought it was just a relationship.”
Meadow looked stunned. “I didn’t know anything about that. Was it something that went on for a while?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I think that Annabelle probably didn’t think a thing about it. He was her real estate agent, you know, so maybe it was just something that spontaneously happened. Although Devlin seemed like he took it more seriously,” said Goldie. “I remember seeing him a couple of months ago and he was so happy. He was practically bubbling over with it. He told me he was seeing someone new. I didn’t know who he was seeing until I saw him out with Annabelle at a restaurant.”
Beatrice asked, “How did they seem together?”
“Well, Annabelle was on her phone the whole time and didn’t seem really engaged. But Devlin was like a little puppy dog, dying for her attention. Like I mentioned, I didn’t know that Annabelle was married and I bet that Devlin didn’t, either. He looked like he fell hard,” said Goldie.
“And with very little encouragement,” said Beatrice dryly.
Meadow said in a casual tone, “Were you at the festival last night, Goldie? I ran by the Dappled Hills Revitalization tent and didn’t see you. Although the volunteers there were very helpful.”
Here Goldie looked concerned. “I was there for a little while to set up the tent, but then I left.” She hesitated. “I may as well say it since I’ve already told Ramsay. I went over to Annabelle’s house last night.”
Beatrice and Meadow’s eyes grew wide. Meadow said, “Really? Why on earth did you do that?” As if Goldie should have known that Annabelle would be murdered and Goldie would become a suspect.
“I wanted to have a civil conversation with Annabelle about her ideas for Dappled Hills. I hated the way that I wasn’t more receptive during the town hall meeting. I guess I was just so taken aback at her approach that I didn’t really say anything. That’s probably why she became so condescending—because she wasn’t being listened to,” said Goldie.
Beatrice said, “No, she was condescending because that’s who she was.”
Meadow was gaping at Goldie. “And when you knocked on the door, she didn’t come, right? Because she was already . . . gone?”
Goldie shook her head, her ponytail swishing from side-to-side. “On the contrary, she opened the door right up. She was one hundred percent alive when I saw her. And when I left her, she was just as alive,” she added quickly in case there was any question of the fact.
Beatrice said, “What was her demeanor? How did she seem?”
Goldie said sadly, “She sort of snarled at me. Apparently, she was in a hurry to get to the festival. But I hoped that she did realize that the town development office was there to listen to her and that we were eager to get lots of ideas from lots of diffe
rent people.”
Meadow gasped and put her hands to her mouth. “In a hurry for the festival? And I was being so snarky because I thought that she’d stood me up. When all the while, she was planning on being there and looking at our quilts with me. Oh, I feel terrible.”
Beatrice said, “Goldie, you didn’t go back to the festival afterwards? I thought it was the big night for getting publicity out for the revitalization project.”
Goldie shook her head again. “That was my original plan. But after speaking with Annabelle, I had the most tremendous headache. I called my volunteers and asked if they could fill in for me. They do a marvelous job and they’re full of passion for Dappled Hills, so I didn’t feel bad about having them in charge of the booth and leaflets. I’d gotten up super-early yesterday and hadn’t had a lot to eat during the day and I think that’s what caused the headache.”
Beatrice said, “And Annabelle didn’t tell you anything else? And you didn’t see or hear anyone there?”
Goldie said in a rueful tone, “I didn’t, although there could have been someone hiding behind a tree and I probably wouldn’t have noticed. I was focused on trying to use Annabelle as a resource. I wanted to tell her that I was interested in partnering with her for the good of the town and implementing some of her ideas. I had the notion that she might write us a couple of checks in the future to help out. The last thing that I wanted was for her to die.”
She glanced at her watch. “I should head on out,” she said brightly. “Lots of downtown merchants to visit. You two take care. Bye, Posy!”
After Meadow bought her quilting supplies, they headed back out of the shop. “Where to now?” asked Meadow.
“As unbelievable as it sounds, I feel as if I need something to eat,” said Beatrice wryly. “Want to run by the sandwich shop and pick up an early lunch? Apparently the brownie wasn’t enough. Or perhaps it’s the fact that some days, the more I eat, the more I want to eat.”
“I’m always up for a meal,” Meadow answered promptly.
They walked to one of Beatrice’s favorite lunch places. The shop was small, but they were early enough to be able to grab a table. Beatrice ordered her favorite thing from the menu: a pimento cheese wrap with barbeque sauce, bacon, and spinach. She’d wondered how on earth the combination would taste the first time she’d had it, but it had fast become a favorite. Meadow had a chicken salad sandwich with a side of chips.
On Pins and Needles Page 6