Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 08 - Remnants of Murder (21 page)

At the door, he turned and smiled. “When I was a kid, the librarian I knew read stories and helped me find books. Now I wonder what else she did.”

“Wait. You grew up here in Sweet Briar, right?” At his nod, she continued. “Then that librarian who read to you was Dixie Dunn, the woman who found your father.”

A glimmer of surprise passed across his face before disappearing behind the same sparkle she’d seen when he first entered the library. “See? I always thought being a librarian was a fairly mundane job. But now, in the time span of what—twenty minutes, maybe—I’ve learned that your profession is not only dangerous but also provides a cover for detective types.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? We kind of like the whole incognito part.”

Chapter 20

Tori dropped the library’s master key ring into her
purse and glanced at her watch, the seven o’clock hour affording a host of possibilities for a quiet evening with Milo. There was the tried-and-true popcorn-and-movie-on-the-couch idea, the sit-on-Milo’s-front-porch-swing-and-cuddle idea, and the ever-popular long walk, all of which would give them what they desperately needed—time together.

The movie idea would allow them a chance to be together without necessarily having to address the issues responsible for the current strain between them. Then again, it was the not having time to talk and plan that was upsetting Milo most.

Her mind made up, Tori slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, its vibration against her skin catching her by surprise. She glanced at the display screen then flipped the phone open and held it to her ear.

“Margaret Louise?”

“Phew. I thought I was ’bout to hear that voice mail message of yours. Always makes me think it’s you, but then it’s not.”

She crossed the parking lot and stopped beside her car. “Is everything okay? You sound kind of winded.”

“I’m fine, Victoria, don’t you worry your head none,” Margaret Louise said. “But before I get to the reason for my call, tell me ’bout the snoopin’. Did you get somethin’ good?”

“Snooping? What snooping—” And then she remembered. “Oh. Good news. Clyde’s body was autopsied yesterday. We should know if we’re right in the next day or so.”

“That don’t mean we have to wait for our investigatin’, does it?”

She smiled at the disappointment in Margaret Louise’s voice. “Do you think it should?”

“No siree. I reckon we should get a jump on things so we don’t waste time when the report comes back in.”

“And if it’s not murder?” she asked as she unlocked the car door and sat down.

“My bones say it’s murder, Victoria.”

If anyone else had made such a statement, she’d dismiss it as the ranting of an overly confident person. But two-plus years of knowing Margaret Louise had taught her many things, not the least of which was the psychic-like ability of the woman’s bones. If they said it was murder, who was Tori to argue?

“I met Clyde’s son, Beau, today.”

“And?”

“He’s a nice man. Still reeling from the idea that his father may have been murdered.” She ran her right hand along the steering wheel and stared through the windshield at the line of bushes that separated the library’s parking lot from the back side of Leeson’s Market. “Anyway, so what’s up?”

“I did some checkin’ of my own.”

“Oh?”

“Bud’s too dumb and Lana wasn’t a huge fan of the resort idea. She knew it would bring in money and customers, but she loves Sweet Briar for the peace and quiet.”

“So your gut on the two of them?”

“Take ’em off the list.”

Considering what she knew about Margaret Louise and the woman’s antennae, that was endorsement enough in Tori’s book. “Anything else?”

“Whatcha doin’ right now?”

She held the phone closer to her ear to counteract the sudden muffling of the voice on the other end. “I just locked up for the night and I’m in my car. Why?”

“Any chance you might think ’bout swingin’ out to church for a few minutes? I’m out here usin’ the kitchen for some of my cookbook recipes.”

Tori’s stomach grumbled at the thought of Margaret Louise’s cooking. “As tempting as that sounds, I was thinking maybe I’d stop by—”

“Kate is here.”

Kate.

Clyde’s friend.

“She’s there?”

“She sure is. She’s in a Bible study right now but that should be wrappin’ up ’bout the time you get here. You won’t miss her ’cause she’s comin’ in to do a little taste testin’ for me when she’s done.”

Tori knew she should decline, stick with her original plan and call Milo, but the opportunity to talk to one of the dead man’s friends was simply too good to pass up. Maybe something Kate had witnessed or overheard could shed light on who was responsible for Clyde’s death.

Then again, if the autopsy came back clean, she’d have wasted her evening …

“Come on by, Victoria. Kate’s real nice. You can talk to her for a few minutes and be on your way before you know it. Between the two of us, we might think of a few questions she can answer that’ll help set us on the right path where Clyde’s killer is concerned.”

• • •

Twenty minutes later, Tori walked through the side
entrance of Sweet Briar’s most picturesque church and turned right, her nose guiding her feet in the direction she needed to go. The hint of cinnamon, combined with the smell of cooking beef, led her down one hallway and then the next, her feet moving in tandem with her nose.

“Are you trying to torture me, Margaret Louise?” she asked as she rounded the corner and stepped into the first open doorway she found. “That smell is absolutely amazing.”

“And it doesn’t hold a candle to the way it tastes.” A statuesque woman with a neat bob of graying hair slipped a fork from between her lips then used it to gesture toward the plate in front of her.

A beaming Margaret Louise emerged from behind a row of cabinets, her gaze ricocheting between Tori and the woman seated at the counter. “Kate, this is Victoria. Victoria, this is Kate. And no, I didn’t give her so much as a dollar to say such things about my food.”

“If you did, I’d give it back,” Kate joked. “People should be paying to eat your food, not getting paid to eat it.”

Tori sidled up to the counter and stared down at the plate. “Um, Margaret Louise? How about a second taste tester? After all, I have a keen sense for spices.” Then, turning to Kate, she extended her hand. “Hi, Kate. It’s nice to meet you.”

Margaret Louise wiped her hands on her apron then pointed to a second stool wedged beneath the counter’s overhang. “Why don’t you sit there next to Kate and get acquainted while I dish up another serving of my latest concoction.”

Kate pushed the now empty plate across the counter to Margaret Louise and pouted her lip. “You know, come to think of it, I sure could use another taste or five, myself. Just to be sure, of course.”

The look of pride on Margaret Louise’s face brought an instant misting to Tori’s eyes. There was so much to love about Leona’s twin sister—boundless energy, limitless loyalty, true kindness, and humility. So when there was a chance to see something special going back in the woman’s direction, it did Tori’s heart good.

“I think I can find a little bit more for you, Kate.” Margaret Louise made her way around the stove with Kate’s plate in one hand and a clean plate for Tori in the other. “It’s nice to see Kate smiling, Victoria. She’s had a rough week.”

Tori settled onto her stool and glanced between the women. “Oh?”

“Clyde Montgomery and Kate were friends.”

She opened her mouth to remind Margaret Louise she knew about the connection but closed it when she realized the intentional genius behind her cohort’s words. Instead, she turned to the woman on her right and reached for her hand once again. “Kate, I’m so sorry. From everything I’ve heard, Clyde was a good man.”

Kate’s face crumpled, deepening the lines around her eyes and leading Tori to guess her age to be in her late sixties, possibly early seventies. “Clyde was the best.”

“How did the two of you meet?” she asked.

Propping her elbow on the counter, Kate lowered her chin into her hand. “I used to see Clyde here at church when I was a little girl. He was the man who always had a lollipop in his pocket and I was the little girl who was always more than happy to accept it.” A wistful quality tinged the edges of the woman’s voice as she continued. “I’d see him at the occasional potluck and he’d always come outside and pitch the ball to us when we were playing baseball, or come see whatever bug one of us had found.

“When times were tough for me and my mother, he’d see to it we got what we needed, whether it was groceries for the week or new shoes for school. Then, when I was in high school and all upset because no one had asked me to the prom, he told me I was better than all the boys in my grade and sent me and a few of my friends who didn’t have dates to the theater in Lawry.”

Tori nodded along, filing away everything she was hearing for further inspection at a later date. “So he was like a father figure of sorts?”

Kate’s long lashes mingled together as she worked to catch her breath. “I always kind of thought that, though I never really voiced it out loud. I mean, he was nice to everyone. But then, when my mother died about fifteen years ago, he showed up at the funeral in a show of support. I guess he knew I’d never married and that I didn’t have any siblings to stand next to in my grief.”

“Did you see him often?” she asked, knowing the answer to the question but wanting to hear it from Kate’s own mouth.

“When his wife died a few years ago, I felt it was time to repay the favor. I knew he was hurting and that he was lonely. I’d just retired from the shoe store and didn’t have all that much to do with my days, so I started to visit Clyde.”

“What would you do during your visits?” She peered in the direction of the stove to find Margaret Louise standing perfectly still, her lack of noise and movement an obvious attempt to help Tori learn as much as she could about Clyde’s life the past month or so.

“On days that Beau wasn’t there, I’d make him his tea and we’d read. On other days, after he’d had his tea and scones with Beau, we’d take long walks if he was up to it, or simply sit inside and talk. No matter what we did, though, we invariably ended up in his sunroom with him and his easel, and me working on my latest story.”

Tori’s ears perked. “Are you a writer?”

“I am. Nothing huge yet, but Clyde always said I’d get there. When I was at home by myself, the doubts would kick in. But when I was at the house, looking out at the lake and walking the shoreline with Clyde, I actually believed it would happen one day. Clyde and the magic of that house made me think anything was possible.”

“Magic?” Margaret Louise chimed in from her spot beside the stove. “How was the house magic?”

“There’s something about the woods, the lake, the view, the history of that house that made you feel so hopeful and happy. Like its very essence wrapped you in a hug one minute and gave your wings a puff of air the next.” Kate brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and released a pent-up sigh. “I remember the day I finally said that to Clyde. I’d been wanting to tell him for a long time but figured he’d think I was nuts.”

“Did he?” Tori asked.

“Quite the contrary. He told me that’s exactly how he felt about his house and his land and that hearing me say the same thing convinced him it was time to tell … eh, it doesn’t matter.” Kate drummed her fingers atop the counter and shrugged. “He turned down millions of dollars to keep that land. He said you couldn’t put a price on peace and tranquility and I couldn’t agree more. I’ve scrimped and saved all my life for the things I’ve wanted—a certain car, a particular vacation destination, a favorite purse or dress. But no matter how special they were when I first got them or first experienced them, their effects on my happiness were essentially superficial. The peace I felt whenever I was out at Clyde’s was a constant. It’s why I did my best writing there, and where I had the most faith in myself.”

Tori swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat, Kate’s words affecting her on a level she hadn’t expected. A glance in Margaret Louise’s direction told her she wasn’t alone.

“Losing Clyde was hard enough. Losing that place and what it did for my soul is something I can’t even fathom right now. For me or for Clyde.”

Chapter 21