A Killing Notion: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery (18 page)

Her daughter. Oh my God. I suddenly realized who her daughter was. The familiarity I felt when I saw her was from the photo Otis Levon had shown me. And the hugs she was getting? Oh Lord, it all made sense now.

I searched the group of girls in the center of the circle, my focus landing on Carrie. She had her gaze locked on her mother, Sally; they were lifelines for one another. Carrie Levon—she was Otis’s daughter. No wonder she
had dark circles and pale skin and was barely holding her emotions in check. She didn’t know if her father was going to live or die.

I wanted to charge across the room and wrap her and her mother up in a hug.

After the circle, I’d do just that.

Sandra came out of the kitchen and joined the circle. Finally, it came to Mrs. James. She took what was left of the netting and looked around the room until she spotted me. Crooking her finger, she beckoned me toward her, handing me the last section of the netting. Mrs. Abernathy reached out, offering the tail end of what she had. I took it, completing the circle.

The thirty teenagers were in the center, surrounded by the netting.

“We are your support,” Mrs. James said. “We’ll catch you when you fall. We’ll hold you up and help you soar. We’ll be there for you, from today forward.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I wasn’t a girl in need. I never had been. I’d had my brother, Red, Mama, Nana and Granddaddy, and Meemaw. They’d always been, and continued to be, my net, and I theirs. Some of these girls—the Danicas and the Leslies—didn’t have the good fortune of a family that was still with them, but now they had Helping Hands. They had other girls and women who would be there for them.

Mrs. James had done an amazing thing by creating this group, and from the tears of the girls in the inner circle, they felt the power of what was happening, too.

We were part of something bigger than any one of us. I looked for Gracie in the circle, catching her eye and
giving her a wink. Her eyes glistened from tears, but she smiled and winked back. My net had grown to include her and Will. I’d be there for them, no matter what, and I knew they felt the same.

They were the family I’d chosen.

Sally and Carrie Levon were gone before I had a chance to talk to either of them. My sympathies would have to wait. Tonight was already committed to the homecoming dance.

By the time the brunch was over, the afternoon was half gone. The kids planned to gather at Gracie’s house to take pictures before the dance at five o’clock. From there, they’d go to dinner, ending the evening at the dance. Will had agreed to host the after-party. “We’ll just play spoons and watch movies,” Gracie had said.

“I’d rather have her home where I can keep an eye on what’s happening,” he’d told me later.

“You’re not being overprotective?” I asked him when he stopped by Buttons & Bows.

“Maybe, but I’m allowed. I’m her dad.” He paused before flashing that wicked smile of his, the one that reminded me of Rhett Butler—one quarter sincere and three quarters sly charm. His eyes sparkled and that goatee gave him enough edge to make him dangerous—in the most enticing way imaginable.

“You know I need you, right?”

A zing went through my body. “Mmm, you do?”

“Of course. All those girls in one place? I can handle the boys, and Gracie, but the rest of them? Not so much.”

I knew how he felt, so I tried not to let disappointment seep into my voice. “Ah, you need me at the after-party.”

Instead of answering, he slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “No, I need you always, Cassidy. Life before you was dull. No Thelma Louise. No Meemaw. No charms.” He paused, smirking. “No murder.”

“Yeah, because murder’s so appealing.”

“No, but your cleverness is.”

“Except that this time, I’m really stymied. I can’t figure it out. Sometimes I think it’s Barbara Ann Blake. Other times I think it’s Miss Reba. I thought for a while it might be Otis.”

“Guess he’s out.”

“Yeah. If I discount Shane and Teagen, that still leaves Sally Levon, Otis’s wife.”

“So all three main suspects are wives. Kind of a scary statement about marriage, don’t you think?”

It was. But try as I might, I couldn’t think of any other suspects. No one else benefitted from the deaths. No one else had a motive. And each of the three wives had pretty good motives.

“I’m missing something,” I said, “but I have no idea what.”

All the ruminating I’d been doing hadn’t brought me any closer to answers, so I pushed it all aside, grabbed Will’s hand, and dragged him to the computer. “The pictures from the park,” I explained. I hadn’t viewed them
yet, and he hadn’t seen the sweet shots of Gracie and Shane.

He crouched beside me as I pulled the collection up and scrolled through them. “There were so many kids there,” I said just as a panoramic shot showing just how many had been there popped up, “and Madelyn says I can’t frame a shot, but I think they’re pretty good.”

Other than a single “Whoa” at the first shot of the group with the rest of the groups in the background, he was rendered speechless for a few seconds. “Will there be that many tonight?” he asked after he recovered.

I laughed. “No. This was the hot spot for photos. Lots of different groups were there. Tonight it’ll just be Gracie’s core friends. Holly. Libby. She invited Danica and Leslie. Carrie,” I said, pointing to the girl who’d suddenly become part of the group. “And the boys, of course.”

“Of course.”

The next picture was one of the six girls, each with their mums. It was a candid shot and most of the girls were looking at something other than the camera. Carrie looked at Danica. Danica looked off to the left. Leslie looked to the other side. Libby and Holly looked at each other, ginning.

Only Gracie looked at the camera, but her face was haunted rather than joyful. No smile. No glee. Her eyes looked hollow and my heart just ached for her.

Will stared at the picture, a similar sadness washing across his face. He couldn’t stand to see his daughter hurting, but looking at her in the picture, there was no doubt that’s what was happening.

I didn’t know what to say to help him see that she’d be all right after a while. A knock at the door stopped me from trying and jolted us both out of our thoughts.

I’d recently realized something about Buttons & Bows. Half the time, people just walked in, thinking the house was an ordinary shop and not realizing it was also where I lived. The other half waited patiently at the door, thinking it was by appointment only.

Right now, with a murderer on the loose, I was glad people weren’t just barging in, and I was also glad Will stood up to go answer the door. I stayed put, mesmerized by Gracie’s face.

“Oh. Hello. I . . . I’m looking for Harlow Cassidy,” a hesitant voice said. “Is this her . . . er . . . is she here?”

Will moved aside, and a moment later Barbara Ann Blake stepped in. She was dressed in black from head to toe. In my experience, people no longer adhered to the strict rules of wearing mourning clothes, but it looked as if Barbara Ann had a different idea. I imagined her selecting her long black maxi skirt and the black blouse she had belted around her waist to represent her grief. The one thing I couldn’t say was whether she was mourning the loss of Eddy or the fact that the life she knew had been a complete sham.

I closed my eyes for a split second, summoning up a vision of her in something else. I still had no idea if she was innocent or guilty, but I wanted to assume she was innocent, and I wanted to see the potential peace of her future after she began to heal from all her loss.

She moved next to the dress form I’d recently positioned in front of the large front window behind the settee. You could see it from the sidewalk, and while it wasn’t quite the same as dressing a storefront window, it gave a hint about the dressmaking that went on inside Buttons & Bows.

“Mrs. Blake,” I said, standing. I started to move away from the computer to come greet her, but she stopped me with her hand, palm facing me. Okay. So she wanted to operate at her own pace. Fair enough. She was here for a reason, and I had to assume that she’d fill me in on that reason before too long. I stayed put, waiting, my heart pounding because if she was the killer, she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

Of course she had no reason to want to kill me. I didn’t know anything. Or at least nothing concrete.

Still, anxiety twisted my insides.

I wondered if Will had the same thought, because he hadn’t moved from the door and was keeping his eyes trained on her. But Barbara Ann was either clueless, a diabolically clever actress, or innocent. She didn’t seem to notice the pall of tension in the air. She was enraptured by the whispery sage blue fabric of the dress she was looking at. I’d made it as a sample so people passing by might put together that I made custom frocks of all kinds, including party and dance dresses.

She reached out to touch the fabric, closing her eyes for a moment as if she were picturing herself in the dress, twirling across a ballroom floor. A faint smile graced her lips, but then her nostrils flared and her breath grew ragged. It was a comfortable temperature in the shop, but a visible shiver passed through her. Her smile faded and a pained look came over her. She wasn’t picturing herself, I realized. She was picturing her daughter, Sue.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the air ripple. Will started, peering at the space as he leaned forward slightly. He saw it, too. Seeing evidence of Meemaw always sent a physical zing through my body. I could only
imagine what Will felt seeing evidence of a ghost in the house.

The rippling air took shape, and before long, it looked like a figure. Barbara Ann’s back was to Meemaw. Good thing, because Meemaw made a beeline for her, passing right through the dress form. She stopped just behind Barbara Ann. In the blink of an eye, Meemaw’s form split into a million specks, like slivers of glass exploding through the air. The shimmers enveloped Barbara Ann, circling around her, passing through her, and after another few seconds, Barbara Ann’s shivering stopped and a calmness seemed to settle over her.

I had a sudden intuition that nobody could see Meemaw except people who knew about her. Barbara Ann certainly seemed to have no clue, so maybe I was right.

Barbara Ann snapped out of the trance she’d been in. She turned away from the window, coming up the steps to the dining room where I sat with the computer. “I’m sorry to barge in—”

I waved the apology away. “Don’t be sorry. I did it to you . . . twice.”

“Yes, you did,” she said with a smile. She took the bag off her shoulder and for a second, I tensed, wondering if she was pulling out a gun or some other weapon. Will was right behind her. We locked eyes for a second and I knew he was ready to grab her in a chokehold, if necessary.

But it wasn’t a gun she pulled out of the bag. It was a Bliss High School letterman jacket. “I was going through Eddy’s closet,” she began, pausing long enough to swallow and keep her voice steady. “I found this. I assume it
must belong to one of his . . . his . . . other kids. I didn’t know who else to bring it to, so I came here. I . . . I hope that’s okay.”

She handed over the jacket, and then pulled a plaid button-down shirt, a pair of sunglasses, and a ball cap from the bag, setting them all on the table. Finally, she withdrew a framed picture of Miss Reba, Shane, and Teagen, and a metallic pink iPod.

All things taken from the Montgomery household the night of the burglary. Why in the world would Eddy have broken into his own house and stolen things that belonged to his own family?

The other possibility was that Barbara Ann had been the one to break into the Montgomery house, and now she was playing a twisted game by pretending she’d discovered the things amongst her husband’s effects.

Her gaze strayed to the computer screen and the picture of Gracie I still had pulled up. She was riveted by it.

“That’s Will’s daughter,” I said.

“She’s . . . lovely,” Mrs. Blake said. She blinked, moving closer. “It looks just like—”

She broke off, tears swimming in her eyes. “My daughter.”

I kicked myself for thinking this woman could be a cold-blooded killer. Her pain was palpable. I couldn’t imagine what she had to be feeling, seeing a group of girls dressed for homecoming, something she’d never experience with her own daughter. I quickly put the computer to sleep and steered her away from it.

She snapped out of her reverie, snatched up the letter jacket again, and handed it to me. It took only about five
seconds to know for certain that it was Shane’s. Which seemed to confirm that I’d been looking at the burglary at the Montgomery house all wrong. It had to have been Eddy, aka Chris, pretending to break in and take his children’s things, standing over Miss Reba in bed.

But why? Why would he break into his own house and steal his children’s things?

I couldn’t answer that, and all I knew was that it didn’t make a lick of sense.

Will and I managed to get Barbara Ann Blake on her way before the teenage girls converged on Buttons & Bows to get ready for the dance. I didn’t want to put her through more unnecessary grief by having to see the girls, memories of her own daughter and lost opportunities flooding her. How did a mother get past that grief?

She’d glanced at the computer one last time, then at the pile of things she’d left on the table. “I’ll take care of them,” I told her.

A million expressions crossed over her face, ranging from utter despair to understanding and acceptance. Finally, her face took on a determined edge. Had she made the decision right then and there to accept her losses and move on? Or maybe she had determined to remember her daughter in her own way.

Either way, she stood a little straighter, throwing back her shoulders, and with a quick thank-you to me, she scooted out the door.

Not five minutes later, Gracie, Danica, and Leslie
arrived. Libby, Carrie, and Holly were getting ready at their own houses, and the girls would all meet up at Gracie’s house, ready for more pictures.

“I feel for her,” Will was saying as the girls plowed through the door, giggling. “What she’s going through isn’t easy.”

The girls stopped, looking from Will to me. “Who?” Gracie asked.

“Mrs. Blake,” Will said.

The color drained from Gracie’s face. “The other wife?”

Her dad nodded. “She was here. Left a few minutes ago.”

Gracie looked around as if she feared Shane were here and would see his father’s other wife. She walked up the steps to the dining room. We were almost the same height, standing eye to eye. “Why? Why was she here?” she asked, her voice sounding small and fearful.

I hated what this situation with Shane was doing to her. Fear and unease had become an everyday experience for her. If only I could erase those feelings and bring her back to being the happy girl she’d been before all of this had happened.

But I couldn’t. All I could do was try to help Shane, like she and Miss Reba had asked me to. I pulled out a chair for her. She sank into it, and I sat next to her. Will, Leslie, and Danica all came and stood next to us, each of them looking at me with different expressions on their faces. Leslie looked curious. Nothing seemed to faze her, and she always wanted all the gossip. Danica, on the other hand, looked spooked. More than anyone, she empathized with Gracie, knowing fear and uncertainty
firsthand. Will’s expression held a slight warning. He didn’t want Gracie hurting any more than she already was. If he could have, I knew he’d have asked me to be careful with my words.

He didn’t need to ask.

I stuck to the facts. “Her husband had some of Shane’s things,” I said, putting my hand on the pile of clothes. “She brought them here so I could get them back to him.”

All eyes turned to the pile on the table. Gracie reached out and put her hand on top of the letterman jacket. “It’s his.”

The other two girls leaned closer, peering at the pile of clothes and the picture in the frame as if it were a snake that might strike at any second. “I don’t think so. How’d she get it?” Danica asked.

Leslie gasped. “The burglary! Maybe she was the one who broke into Shane’s house—”

“
Pft.
Why would she do that?” Danica asked.

“If she found out about the other family,” Leslie said, “maybe she wanted to see it for herself. See what the competition was.”

“Competition?” Danica stood back up, folding her arms over her chest. “I don’t think it was a competition.”

“It may have been to her.” Leslie glanced at Will, and then turned to me. “If you two were married and you suddenly discovered that he had another family, wouldn’t you see the other wife as your enemy? Wouldn’t you want to find out what you could and, I don’t know”—she glared at Will, her hands clenched as if she were choking him—“get back at him?”

“Hey,” Will said, holding up his hands in innocence. “I’m a good guy.”

I took his hand. The girls were processing what had happened the best way they knew how. “You’re the best guy,” I said.

“But seriously.” Leslie looked at each of us. “Wouldn’t you want revenge?”

Slowly, Danica nodded her head. “I would. But I don’t see how breaking in and stealing Shane and Teagen’s stuff is getting revenge.”

Gracie piped up before Leslie could come up with a reason. “Because she wanted to show her husband that she knew.”

Leslie snapped her fingers, pointing her index finger at Gracie. “Right! She must have found out, but she couldn’t just ask him, so she went to see the other family. Makes total sense.”

Gracie looked stricken. “So you think she did it? She killed her husband and rammed Carrie’s dad with her car?”

Leslie nodded, but Will put his hand on her shoulder. “We don’t know who did it, sweetheart. It’s anybody’s guess at this point.”

Danica didn’t look like she was buying the story. “She’s the victim, though.
She
was married to the guy first, and then
he
met someone else. I mean, who does that? She didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t just turn her into the villain here.”

“Right,” I said. “You can’t just turn anyone into the villain. Miss Reba’s a victim, too.”

Danica shook her head again. “Are you sure Miss Reba didn’t know, though?”

“I don’t think so.” I’d spoken with her shortly after she found out. She could have been faking her shock
and grief, but if she had been, she was just as good an actress as Barbara Ann Blake was if she was the guilty one.

Someone deserved an Academy Award for Best Actress. I just didn’t know who.

“Maybe it was Mr. Levon’s wife,” Danica said. “She’s the only one left.”

I’d seen Sally’s grief at the brunch that morning, and I’d heard Otis say what a good woman she was, despite the shotgun wedding and unexpected family. They’d grown into, rather than away from, each other. “But what would the motive be?”

They fell silent, thinking about my question.

“Money,” Danica said. “She must have wanted her husband’s share of the business, or something, right?”

She’d come to the only possible conclusion. “He didn’t own that much, though.”

“Not enough to murder him over?” Danica asked.

“Is there ever something that’s good enough to warrant murder?” It was a question I’d had to ask myself several times, and I never got a different answer. There was never a good enough reason.

The girls didn’t know how to respond. They’d grown up watching too much TV showing cavalier murder and mayhem. It had to affect their perspective.

“Hey, y’all,” I said, leaving Shane’s things on the table and heading to the front room. “Time to get ready. Who needs makeup and hair?”

All three girls raised their hands. Will gave a sheepish grin and raised his, too.

Gracie swatted at him. “Dad, you do not,” she said,
but she smiled for the first time since she’d heard Mrs. Blake had been here.

“I’m gonna go tackle that gate while all y’all get beautified,” he said. He headed out the front door, leaving us to blush, mascara, curling wands, and homecoming dresses.

An hour later, they were ready. Gracie’s chestnut hair was a mass of ringlets, she had a single rosette secured with a bobby pin behind her ear, and with her cream-colored dress of handmade rosettes, she looked like a princess straight out of a fairy tale. The only thing missing was the tiara.

Mrs. James had taken Danica to buy blue wedge heels to complement the blue beaded accents of her dress. A light glitter dusted her cheeks and with the bright tangerine bubble dress, she looked like a fairy.

Leslie’s dark hair was pulled back and secured with a sapphire blue headband I’d made from a scrap of her dress fabric. I’d lined her eyes in sapphire, which made them look cornflower blue against her chocolate skin. She’d found strappy metallic sandals at a secondhand store off the square, and with the tiered hem of her dress, she was a vision of iridescent color.

I ushered them out to the porch for a few prepicture pictures, positioning them in front of the red door, a red slatted bench Will had made for me off to their left, Meemaw’s old white rocking chairs to their right. I hurried down the steps, adjusted the focus and aperture on my camera, framed them as best I could, and snapped away.

Before I could check to see if any of them had turned
out, the girls were piling into their cars to follow Will to his ranch. It was a caravan of old cars following Will’s pickup truck. “I’ll be along in a minute!” I called. Will stuck his arm out the driver’s window and waved.

Back inside, I cleaned up, changed into a fresh blouse, and quickly uploaded the pictures I’d just taken. Out of the shots, only three looked halfway decent. If this was how it went for three girls, imagine how hard it would be with a much larger group. Thank goodness Madelyn had agreed to go to Will’s and take the photos of the homecoming couples.

I went through them again, deleting the shots that had Leslie blinking, Danica looking off into the distance, all three of the girls frowning, Gracie brushing a wayward strand of hair away from her face. On and on they went, bad shot after bad shot.

I felt a swirl of warm air behind me and spun around. The pile of things Barbara Ann Blake had brought still sat on the table, but they’d been relocated to the opposite side.

“Right, Meemaw, and I’m not giving dressmaking up any time soon for photography,” I said. “I couldn’t even get them to focus on me. Too much distraction with all the passing cars.”

I poised my finger over the delete key, ready to depress it. I stopped. Something was bothering me about the pictures, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The composition? The dresses? I peered more closely, but the girls all looked gorgeous, and I couldn’t find anything amiss with the garments, the shoes, the hair, or the accessories.

An invisible force pressed on my shoulder. “Jussst thinnnnk,” Meemaw said.

Good advice. I’d hoped the murderer would be identified before the dance, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. I needed time to ponder all the things that were bothering me—and that list was growing long.

I took my camera and ran out the door.