Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,4

on the donkey an acceptable party game once again.”

Shaking her thoughts free of Beth Samuelson, Tori willed herself to focus on the change in conversation. “Margaret Louise’s idea?”

“The one about strangling Ashley Lawson and stuffing her body in a closet.”

The corners of her mouth tugged upward. “Did Margaret Louise really say that?”

Melissa made a face. “You know my mother-in-law.”

And she did. Thankfully. In fact, since moving to Sweet Briar, the sixty-something woman had become one of Tori’s dearest friends both inside and outside of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle. The sometimes loud, sometimes opinionated woman had shown her nothing but loyalty and kindness through some of her darkest days, including a bout as a murder suspect. It was the kind of friendship she worked hard to reciprocate.

“I’ve got it!”

Melissa’s eyes rounded in surprise. “What?”

“What do you think of having the party in the children’s room? The kids could use the dress-up trunk and put on little shows based on the stories we read to them.”

“I don’t know. Could we really use the room?”

Tori nodded. “With a donation to the library, and my assurances the room will be cleaned afterward, I’m sure the board will grant permission. And if we have it after hours on Sunday, it won’t conflict with our patrons at all.”

Feeling the excitement start to build, she continued, giving words to the ideas cycling through her head. “We could have Debbie make a cake highlighting Sally’s favorite story, and we could bring in a few tables and chairs and set that part up outside under the moss trees.”

Melissa sat up. “It would certainly be different . . .”

“And relatively cheap,” Tori added.

“Kids love to play dress up.”

“And, if we got our hands on a video recorder, we could even tape their performances to be watched during cake time and then send a copy home with each child as a memento from Sally’s party.”

“That’s it! That’s perfect.” Jumping up from her chair, Melissa ran around the table and threw her arms around Tori. “Oh, Victoria, thank you! You just saved two lives.”

“Two?”

“Mine . . . and Ashley’s.”

“Sally would love you no matter what kind of party she did or didn’t have. You need to remember that, okay?” Tori grabbed the pile of party books and stood, the last part of Melissa’s statement bringing a smile to her lips. “And as for this Ashley woman . . . perhaps we should keep any and all rope away from Margaret Louise that day. Just in case she can’t hold back the urge any longer.”

“That’s a good idea. Though, keeping it out of sight from the rest of the moms who come to the party might be a good idea, too.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Because Margaret Louise is one of many who has had enough of Ashley Lawson. One of many.”

Chapter 2

Shifting the plate of homemade gingerbread cookies to her left hand, Tori knocked on Dixie Dunn’s front door, her hand making a crisp rapping sound against the trim.

“Oh, thank goodness I’m not the only one who’s late.” Beatrice Tharrington stepped onto the weather-beaten front porch beside Tori, a foil-covered plate in her hand. “Luke was being a little devil this evening. Didn’t want me to leave.”

“Isn’t Monday evening supposed to be special time with his parents?”

Beatrice nodded. “It is. But he’s gotten a might bit attached to me.”

“And this surprises you?” She looked from Beatrice to the screen door and back again, the sound of footsteps in the distance her only indication the knock had been heard above the gossip that was as much a part of the group as needles and thread.

“It does, indeed. I’m just the nanny.”

“Just the nanny?” she echoed as she sized up the only other member of the group who didn’t sport a southern accent. “You make Mary Poppins look inattentive.”

A flush rose across the British nanny’s young face. “Victoria, you shouldn’t say such things.”

“Why? It’s the truth.” She glanced back toward the door, the footsteps growing still louder. “I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve made a meeting at Dixie’s house.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

Startled, she met Beatrice’s shame-filled eyes, her mouth unable to form words before a retraction was offered.

“Oh, Victoria, can we please pretend I didn’t say that? It was . . . unkind. And most unfair of me to say.”

She reached out, gently squeezed her friend’s hand. “It’s already forgotten.”

“Well look who’s here. I thought for sure you weren’t coming since we were supposed to start