Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 08 - Remnants of Murder (26 page)

Margaret Louise tapped her forehead with the palm of her hand and laughed. “That’s one of the things I like best ’bout you, Victoria. You’re always thinkin’. Helps keep us old-timers on track when we start pickin’ posies.”

Phew …

With any luck, by the time they were done with Shelby, Margaret Louise would have topics to chew on so they could make it home without readdressing the question of her driving. If not, finding a word more delicate than
maniac
would be tough.

Tori came around the car and joined Margaret Louise on the sidewalk, their destination not more than fifteen feet away. Side by side they ascended the steps, the sweet smell of chocolate beckoning to them from the open windows on either side of the door.

“I remember when Shelby first opened this place. Everyone in the circle was worried ’bout Debbie.”

“Debbie? Why?”

“Because Shelby had the help of her daddy and we were afraid she’d steal some of Debbie’s business.” Margaret Louise opened the door and stepped inside, motioning for Tori to follow. “But they worried for nothin’. All Shelby wants to make is candy. She says it’s the way to a person’s heart.”

“Or grave,” she mumbled under her breath as they stopped halfway into the room and looked around a shop Tori had been known to frequent on occasion. During those visits, the only thing that had mattered was the smell and the selection. Today her mission was quite different. Today she hoped to get a better handle on Shelby Jenkins and her relationship with Clyde Montgomery.

“I’ll be right with you folks in just a minute. I’ve got to wash this chocolate off my fingers.”

“It’s just me, Shelby—Margaret Louise. You take your time, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Margaret Louise! I have something I’d like you to taste.” Shelby Jenkins burst into the room through a swinging door on the other side of the counter and came to an abrupt stop, a flash of anger dulling the eyes that had twinkled not more than a millisecond earlier. “I’m sorry, Miss Sinclair, I’m getting ready to close right now so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Dipping her pudgy hand into her oversized tote bag, Margaret Louise fished around inside until she located her cell phone and checked the screen. “It’s only three o’clock, Shelby. You don’t close for another two hours.”

Shelby wiped her hands on her apron then pulled it over her head and hung it on a hook behind the register. “I’m closing at three today.”

Tori held her hands up, palms out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“We’re closed tomorrow.”

Margaret Louise rolled her eyes. “Shelby, now stop. Victoria is my friend.”

“She’s also trying to stir up trouble in this town.” Shelby emerged from behind the counter and stopped at the front door, shooting Tori a pointed look in the process. “Clyde Montgomery is dead. No amount of snooping is going to change that. It’s time everyone just moves on and sees the silver lining in his passing.”

“Silver lining?” Tori prodded.

“Selling that land to one of the resort companies is going to make the lives of our residents better in more ways than you can ever imagine, Miss Sinclair.”

Sensing the tension building inside her friend, Tori laid a calming hand on Margaret Louise’s back while she addressed the sweetshop owner. “I know that bringing in tourists and their money will benefit our roads, our police department, our business owners, our schools, and even, potentially, my library. So, yes, Shelby, I can imagine. I’ve done my homework just as you’ve done yours.”

Shelby retracted her hand from the doorknob and turned to face Tori. “Then if you’ve done your homework, why are you stirring up something best left alone? Clyde’s property is exactly the kind of land that draws in resort companies.”

“Like your dad’s company, right?”

Shelby’s jaw tightened. “Nirvana is one resort company, yes.”

“You mean the one company that essentially harassed Mr. Montgomery until he finally threatened them with trespassing charges if they stepped on his property again, right?”

“And they left him alone after that, Miss Sinclair,” Shelby said through clenched teeth.

“But you didn’t, did you, Shelby?”

The candy maker widened her gaze to include Margaret Louise. “I didn’t go out to that house. My deliveryman did.”

“Delivering chocolates
you
made, Shelby.”

Shelby fisted her hands at her side then released her left long enough to grab hold of the doorknob for a second time. “Clyde liked chocolate-covered cherries. He liked them enough he called the shop and placed an ongoing order to be delivered to his house every Friday. What I don’t understand is why any of this is your business. I
do
make and sell candy for a living, ladies.”

“When did these deliveries start?” Tori asked, her focus never leaving Shelby’s face.

“I don’t know. Six months ago, I think. What difference does it make?”

“And when did you start sending his order with your father’s propaganda?”

Shelby’s eyes narrowed. “I started sending along a few
brochures
after he refused to talk to anyone from my father’s company.”

Margaret Louise shot an elbow into Tori’s side and twisted her mouth into a knowing smile. “That’s ’bout the right time frame, ain’t it, Victoria?”

“The right time frame?” Shelby snapped. “The right time frame for what?”

Lifting her index finger toward Margaret Louise, Tori took a step closer to Shelby. “You have heard how Clyde died, haven’t you?”

“Of course. It was all over this town the second the report came down. Clyde was poisoned.”

Margaret Louise clapped her hands. “
Exactly
. He was poisoned.”

Tori took a moment to scan the candy shop’s main room. The display cases were stocked with handmade chocolates, the walls adorned with photographs of the candy-making process. She looked back at Shelby. “Do you make all your own candy?”

Shelby pranced over to the main display case and flipped on a tiny interior light. “Of course I do. My favorites are the caramels but they’re also the most dangerous. The cooking temperature required to make them, plus the need to constantly stir the caramel, makes it so I get burned a lot.”

Tori took a step toward the display case and peered inside, the pull of the chocolate-covered caramels no match for the pull she felt to find Clyde’s killer. “You make all of your candy here in the shop?”

“In my kitchen in back.”

“Does anyone help you make the candy?” she asked.

“Absolutely not. That kitchen and this shop are all mine. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I was knee-high.”

“I imagine you must be mighty grateful to your daddy for helping you get this place of yours off the ground.” Margaret Louise waved her hand around the room. “This would be tough to do without someone helpin’, wouldn’t it?”

Shelby flipped off the light and crossed her arms underneath her breasts. “I thank him all the time, Margaret Louise. He helped me realize my dream, and one of these days I hope I can help him realize his.”

“You mean like gettin’ a hold of Clyde’s property for a new resort?”

Waving off Margaret Louise’s question, Tori worked to gain control of the conversation before Shelby got fed up and threw them out on their ears. “How often do you make your candy?”

“Depends on the type. Some I make every few days. Some, because of their popularity, are made every day.”

She nodded along to the woman’s words then got straight to the question she’d been waiting to ask since they walked in. “Do you know very much about arsenic?”

Shelby’s brows scrunched upward in thought. “Not really, no. I—wait …
Arsenic
, right? Some guy in Texas killed his wife by putting that in lipstick, didn’t he?”

“I never heard of that, but I’m sure it’s possible. A little here, a little there starts to add up.” Tori took a step toward the display case and peered inside. “That’s why Clyde went from looking healthy back in February to looking like a mere shell of himself when he died. He was being poisoned a little at a time with something he was probably eating.”

“That’s a shame but—” Suddenly, Shelby staggered backward as the meaning behind Tori’s words seemed to hit her with a delayed punch, draining her face of all tangible color. “Wait! You can’t possibly believe I’d poison someone with
my candy
?”

Chapter 26

Tori scooted her stool closer to Milo and rested her
head against his shoulder. “Thanks for humoring me tonight.”

“No worries. Sometimes a brownie sounds good to me, too.” Milo turned his head to hers and whispered a kiss across her temple. “But honestly? I’d rather you tell me why we’re really here.”

She glanced down at the uneaten brownie on her plate and knew it was time to come clean. Lifting her head from its resting spot, Tori pivoted her body around until she was eye to eye with her fiancé. “Margaret Louise and I went to Shelby’s Sweet Shoppe this afternoon.”

“Are you going to tell me you hit your chocolate quota for the day?”

She knew she shouldn’t laugh, especially when her whole reason for dragging him to Debbie’s in the first place had absolutely nothing to do with eating, but she couldn’t help it. “Uhhh, no. Not possible.” Then as quickly as the laugh had come, it disappeared, pushed away by a reality she knew he wouldn’t like.

“I …” She tried to find the right words or, at least, the best way to soften them, but she was afraid.

“Hey, I was only kidding,” he said before reaching forward and cupping the side of her face with his hand. “We talked about your suspects for Clyde’s murder on the phone the other night. I figured you’d be paying Shelby a visit sooner rather than later.”

Reaching up, she held his touch against her skin, guiding it to her lips long enough to plant a kiss on the inside of his palm. “You’re okay hearing about this?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. In fact, I don’t know what got into me when you first told me about Dixie’s suspicions. I was acting like an idiot. One of the things I love about you is how you care about your friends. I wouldn’t have wanted you to turn your back on Dixie. Our wedding will happen in October just like it’s supposed to, and it’ll be perfect because I’m marrying you.”

She worked to keep the sudden lump from rising too high into her throat, the sensation a precursor to the tears she knew were mere moments away. “Wow,” she whispered.

“No wow necessary.” He took a gulp of his iced tea then set the cup down on the table. “So how’d it go? She hold up under interrogation?”

“We didn’t interrogate her.” She dug a fork into the double chocolate brownie and took a bite, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head as she did. “Mmmm. There was no swinging lamp, no windowless room. Just Margaret Louise and me.”

Milo’s deep laugh turned more than a few heads in their direction. “Same thing, isn’t it?”

“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny.” When she followed his gaze to her brownie, she forked up a second bite and popped it into his mouth. “She wasn’t happy to see us … or more specifically,
me
, but Margaret Louise worked her magic long enough to buy me the time I needed to ask the tough questions.”

“And?” he prompted as he liberated the fork from her hand and helped himself to another taste.

Her shoulders slumped as she found herself standing in the middle of Shelby’s Sweet Shoppe, watching her top suspect slip completely off her list. “She had nothing to do with Clyde’s death.”

He stopped mid-chew and studied her closely. “You sound mighty sure of that.”

“I saw her reaction when she realized where I was going with her candy and the fact that he was poisoned. She was absolutely mortified.”

“Maybe she’s a good actor.”

“Trust me, no one is
that
good.” She recovered the fork from Milo’s outstretched hand, only to set it down next to the plate without taking another bite. “Oh, Milo, sometimes I wish I’d been too busy to pick up the phone the day Clyde died. Maybe if I had been, Dixie would have called someone else.”

Hooking his finger under her chin, he guided her gaze upward until it locked with his. “You picked up because you’re you. We’ll figure this out.”

“But what happens if the person involved is someone we all care about?” She broke eye contact with Milo long enough to assess the situation behind the bakery counter, Emma’s happy-go-lucky interaction with each customer making it difficult to breathe.

She felt Milo’s gaze leave her face and travel in the same direction as hers, only to ricochet back in her direction just as quickly. “C’mon, Tori, you can’t be serious.”

All she could do was nod, and swallow.

“Emma? But why?”

“She’s Granville’s daughter, Milo.”

“So?”

She heard the edge to his voice, knew it seemed warranted from his point of view, but she knew better. “A couple of times a week for the past few years, Beau Montgomery has come into this bakery and purchased two scones—one for him, one for his dad. His mom used to make scones each morning for a standing date she and Clyde had for tea. When she passed away, Clyde said one of the things he missed most was tea and scones. So Beau took the tradition over, substituting his mom’s homemade scones with Debbie’s.”