Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,19
passed her in the doorway before stopping to swing his hat onto his head with an air of authority. “Murder is no joking matter, Victoria. You of all people should know that.” He stepped into the hall only to turn one last time. “I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter 7
For the first time in more than a dozen or so visits, Margaret Louise’s home didn’t exude its normal happy aura. Sure, the alphabet magnets and finger-painted pictures that covered nearly every square inch of the proud grandmother’s refrigerator were in place just like always. Nothing would ever change that.
But as certain as those things were, so, too, was the downtrodden mood that threatened to suffocate the life out of that evening’s sewing circle.
“Do you know how many times I said I wanted to kill Thomas after what he did?” Georgina mused from her spot beside an overturned teddy bear on the navy blue sofa in the far corner of the room. “Why, when I heard what he’d done, I could have strangled him with my bare hands.”
Tori studied the town’s mayor from the sunlit corner she’d claimed as her own, the last of the day’s lingering rays growing weaker. For over a year now, the woman had forged ahead with dignity and determination despite the humiliation of having been married to a murderer. “But you wouldn’t have done that. You’re too good.”
“There were days in the aftermath of his arrest that I doubted that, Victoria. Especially after the hell he put you through.”
She held her hands up. “The truth finally came out, Georgina, and that’s all that really matters. Now it’s done and over and I’m doing just fine.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about strangling him, or tripping him just as he approached the edge of a cliff, or running him over with my car, or locking him in a cellar and watching him starve to death. These are the things I thought about back then. Still do on some days.”
“And that’s only natural if you ask me,” Rose grumbled from behind the portable machine she’d commandeered the second she arrived. “I think anyone in this room would be hard-pressed to say they’ve never had thoughts like that about someone who’s wronged them.”
Heads nodded around the room.
“But that doesn’t mean we act on them.” Dixie’s chin rose into the air. “Victoria wouldn’t be here if we did.”
“We?” Leona drawled.
Dixie’s face reddened. “Okay . . . me. But she took my job from me—a job I devoted my life to from the time I was her age.”
“Good heavens, Dixie, would you get down off that cross, ’cause someone else surely needs that wood.” Rose pulled the sweater she was hemming from the machine and stamped her foot on the ground. “Victoria didn’t take your job. She was given it. By the board. And they did that because it was time for you to retire.”
Dixie opened her mouth to speak only to slam it shut as Rose continued. “I don’t like being old any more than you or”—she lowered her chin and peered over the top of her glasses as she scanned the room—“Leona, over there, does. But it’s life. Get over it.”
“You’re the one who’s older than dirt, Rose.” Leona sat up straight in her chair, her latest travel magazine slipping from her flawlessly manicured hands. “I’m a good quarter century younger than you.”
“A quarter century?” Rose shook her head.
Margaret Louise let out her first laugh of the evening. “Twin, don’t you know that twistin’ the truth is like puttin’ perfume on a pig?”
“Oh shut up, Margaret Louise,” Leona groused as she pulled her magazine off her lap and opened it in front of her face.
Feeling the corners of her mouth twitching upward, Tori took a moment to savor the momentary burst of playful energy that was synonymous with their group—a burst that disappeared the moment Melissa opened her mouth.
“I know I said some unkind things about that woman after Sally had opened her gifts but she’d pushed me to the brink. She really did.” Melissa jumped to her feet and peeked outside the window, the path of her gaze no doubt traveling in the direction of her own home. “But I couldn’t hurt a flea. Just ask my Jake.”
“Oh, Melissa, there’s not anyone in the world who could think you would hurt another human being,” Beatrice said, her soft British accent making them all pause. “Police Chief Dallas will figure that out soon.”