Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,20

hornet and a yellow jacket when they’re both buzzin’ in your pants,” Margaret Louise said from her spot just inside the doorway. “Every single one of us in this room ’cept Georgina is guilty of saying somethin’ off-color about that nasty woman. And there’s not a one of us who could hurt a flea, either, yet the chief’s still circlin’ like a vulture waitin’ for his supper, ain’t he?”

Heads nodded again.

“Which is why fingers are going to start pointing before long, you just wait and see.”

“They already have,” Tori said as she glanced in Dixie’s direction. “How do you think Chief Dallas knew about the comments?”

“How did he know?” Debbie mumbled around the needle she held between her teeth.

“I imagine it was Regina Murphy. She showed up at that point during the party when everyone had hit their limit with Ashley Lawson, remember?”

Beatrice’s face paled. “Oh no, you’re right. She heard me say—” The nanny sat up straight, shock and fear skittering across her face. “Oh no!”

Debbie pulled the needle from her mouth. “Don’t you worry none, Beatrice. Everyone said something at one time or another. And Victoria is right, Regina heard just about every last comment. But just as she was getting ready to give us a piece of her mind, Samantha got a hold of her and started gabbing away.”

“That’s probably why she was practically frantic to talk to Ashley by the end,” Margaret Louise mused. “Woo-eee that Samantha Smith can talk.”

Dixie cleared her throat, halting all further conversation. “That’s not the finger pointing I was talking about.”

All eyes turned in Dixie’s direction. “What are you babblin’ about, Dixie?” Georgina asked as her hand paused above the blouse she’d been working on for the past month. “Who’s pointing fingers?”

“We all will be if it serves us well.”

“What are you talking about?” Beatrice whispered.

Crossing her arms in front of her stout frame, Dixie took her moment in the spotlight. “If Chief Dallas were to show up at your doorstep, Beatrice, and badger you about what you said regarding Ashley Lawson what would you say?”

“I—I . . .”

Dixie turned to Leona. “And if he showed up at your doorstep and badgered you, what would you say?”

Leona lowered her magazine. “I’d tell him I was only repeating what I heard Rose say.”

Rose gasped along with everyone else.

“Leona!”

“It’s okay, Victoria.” Rose leaned forward in her chair and narrowed her eyes to near slits as she stared at Margaret Louise’s twin sister. “And when he showed up at my door telling me what you said Leona, I’d tell him it’s always the dirty dog that howls the loudest.”

“You wouldn’t,” Leona spat.

“Try me,” Rose countered.

“I rest my case,” Dixie said as she settled back against the cushions of the rattan chair she’d claimed for the evening. “It’s just like I said, fingers will start their pointing sooner than any of us realize. You mark my words.”

Tori swallowed over the lump that sprang to her throat. Was Dixie right? Would everyone start throwing each other under the bus that was Ashley Lawson’s murder simply to save their own skin?

“There is another way.” Debbie’s voice, quiet yet firm, rang out from her place beside Margaret Louise.

“What’s that?” Beatrice asked.

“We band together.”

Dixie looked up. “As a united front?”

“No. As friends.” Debbie pulled a spool of thread from her sewing box and held it to the lamplight on her left. “We all know we didn’t do it. So why on earth would we give the impression otherwise?”

“Someone had to have done it,” Georgina interjected. “And you must admit that the way in which it was done is more than a little curious in light of everything I’ve heard about Sally’s party.”

“You’re right, someone did it. But let’s not forget the fact that two of the women at that party are not in this room right now.” Debbie unraveled a piece of the baby pink thread and threaded it through the eye of her needle. “And they were every bit as fed up with Ashley Lawson as the rest of us.”

Beatrice bristled. “Caroline Rowen and Samantha Smith are no more capable of murdering someone than any of us are.”

“That might be true if Ashley hadn’t insulted Caroline’s daughter.”

“But if you follow that logic, then you’re just as much of a suspect,” Melissa pointed out.

Debbie set her needle and thread down. “How do you figure that, Melissa?”

“Ashley may have commented on little Zoe’s red hair, but she also called your son a troublemaker. Even refused to let her daughter sit