Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,35
us to.”
Debbie shook her head. “I’ve already made enough for the kids. But the other day, Colton Granger came into Jake’s garage. He had a flat tire that needed patching.”
“I heard, through the grapevine, that Colton is out of work,” Rose said.
Beatrice nodded. “I saw his wife, Eloise, at the playground day before last and she said the same thing. People aren’t fixing up their homes these days and Colton’s boss doesn’t have the funds to employee him any longer.”
“Such a shame,” Dixie mused. “It’s hard to see folks out of work like that—whether there’s simply no work for them or they’re forced out to make room for younger, cheaper employees.”
Leona met Tori’s gaze before rolling her eyes skyward. “You watch, she’ll stick to it until the last pea is out of the pot.”
A gasp rang up around the table.
“Why, Aunt Leona, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you just used one of Margaret Louise’s expressions,” Melissa chided.
The woman’s face drained of all color. “I—I did no such thing . . .” The words trailed from Leona’s mouth as Tori laughed out loud.
“It’s okay, Leona, every dog ought to have a few fleas now and again, isn’t that right, Dixie?” Rose winked at Tori before turning her focus on the retired librarian. “Dixie?”
The elderly woman with the crop of snow-white hair looked up, the expression behind her glasses hard to decipher. “Colton and Eloise have young-uns, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do,” Debbie affirmed. “Two little girls—Abby and Sophie. And both have birthdays coming up at the end of the month.”
Rose sat up tall, a smile softening her wrinkled features. “And we’re going to make them play food?”
Debbie’s eyes shone. “That’s what I was hoping.”
“Count me in,” Tori said as she reached for the slice of bread, turning it over and over in her hands. “I’ll also donate some of the felt. I’m fairly sure I have a bunch in the same color as the top and crust of this bread.”
“Count us all in.” Dixie pulled her legs back toward her chair. “Let’s plan on working on this at our next meeting at”—she looked around at the group—“who’s having the next one again?”
Tori raised her hand. “I am.”
“Shall we invite Chief Dallas, ladies?” Margaret Louise brushed a kiss across her granddaughter’s messy face. “That way he can save the town a little gasoline.”
Georgina cleared her throat. “He’s only doin’ his job. A woman was murdered after all.”
Margaret Louise pointed at Dixie. “Did you murder Ashley Lawson?”
Dixie shook her head. “Though I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was tempted.”
Her finger shifted to Rose. “Did you murder Ashley Lawson?”
Rose shook her head.
Her finger shifted to Debbie. “Did you murder Ashley Lawson?”
Georgina held up her hands before Debbie could answer. “What does this prove, Margaret Louise?”
“It stops time from bein’ wasted, that’s what.” Margaret Louise reached in front of the baby and capped up the empty jar of bananas as Melissa moved onto Apple Delight. “We’ve all lived in this town for years—’cept Victoria and she’s no more capable of murderin’ someone than the rest of us are. Chief Dallas is barkin’ up the wrong tree is all.”
“Ashley Lawson was murdered. There is an investigation going on in order to catch her killer. Everyone at this table was overheard making threats against her just hours before she was killed.” The town’s top elected official folded her napkin and tossed it beside her crumb-ridden plate. “I’m sure you can see how that makes me caught where the wool is short.”
“That’s all well and good, Georgina,” Rose stated as she, too, tossed her napkin onto the table. “But remember this: You can put your boots in the oven, but that don’t make ’em biscuits.”
Tori looked a question at Leona only to have it answered by Margaret Louise.
“Rose is right, Georgina. The chief can ask us if we murdered that nasty woman until the cows come home. But askin’ and investigatin’ won’t change the answer none. He’s barkin’ up the wrong tree, plain and simple.”
Chapter 13
“I feel bad for Georgina,” Tori said as she walked side by side with Leona on the way toward their final destinations. “I mean, think what that must be like, being elected to oversee every aspect of a town’s well-being. Only in order to do that, you must ruffle the feathers of your friends.”
“The ruffling wouldn’t last nearly as long if everyone would just play along.”
She considered her friend’s words as they crossed Center Street and headed south along