Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,48
you seen her with kids? She’s amazing.”
Milo nodded then followed the gesture up with a theatric shrug. “This particular board member based her decision on Dixie’s appearance and demeanor in the room at the time of the request.”
“And this board member was . . .” she prompted with the help of her rolling finger.
“Ashley Lawson.”
Her hand stilled. “Are you serious?”
He nodded again, this time minus the shrug.
She took a moment to process this latest piece of information—information that had the potential to change things a little. Especially in light of the fact they explained a minor detail she’d overlooked until that moment—Dixie had been less than enthusiastic to see Ashley at Sally’s party.
At the time, she hadn’t thought much about it, the distraction that was Ashley Lawson making all else pale. But now, in a moment of silence, it all came rushing back. Dixie had reacted with anger when the woman had arrived at the party. An anger she should have recognized as over the top.
Still, it was Dixie Dunn. Seventy-something Dixie Dunn. Formidable as she was, she didn’t have the physical strength needed to strangle someone half her age any more than Rose did.
“I still don’t buy that she’d kill someone,” Tori finally said, the momentary possibility chased away by reality. “I mean, she may be ornery at times but—”
“At times?” Milo echoed. “At times?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, she may be ornery virtually all the time but she’s not a killer. I just can’t believe that. I won’t.”
“Which still leaves you with two names.”
“Caroline Rowen and Samantha Smith—neither of whom I know very well.” She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the logo on the side of her to-go cup. “What I do know is that Ashley said some not so very nice things about Caroline’s little girl on the way into the party. Something about her wretched red hair if I remember Beatrice’s words correctly.”
“Wretched?” Milo’s mouth hung open. “Are you serious?”
She nodded. “This woman was awful, Milo. Absolutely, positively awful.”
“And Samantha Smith?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that her daughter routinely came home crying from kindergarten because Penelope teased her about everything from the clothes she wore to the games she played. At least that’s what Melissa told me, anyway.”
“Wait.” Milo reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With the touch of a few buttons, he held it out for her to see. “I remember that name now. Her little girl’s name is Kayla and the parents have been to the school a number of times complaining about Penelope Lawson. Only nothing seems to happen according to them.”
“Why do you have her name on your phone?”
“I wanted to remember it. I heard the afternoon kindergarten teacher talking about the situation in the lunchroom a while back and it broke my heart. I decided I’d figure out who this little girl is and make a point of saying nice things to her if I see her in the hallway or out on the playground.”
For a long moment Tori simply studied him—the smile lines beside his amber-flecked brown eyes, the faintest hint of her beloved dimples nestled in his cheeks, and the unruly crop of burnished brown hair that begged for a good finger grooming. Milo Wentworth truly was one of a kind. How many men would overhear a little gossip and go out of their way to try and make a situation better?
His cheeks grew pink when she said as much to him. “I hate to see any child ridiculed or ostracized. It’s not right.”
“Neither is this business about Ashley’s murder. I don’t believe anyone on this list is guilty.”
“You that sure about Caroline and Samantha?”
She tried his question on for size, her answer forming faster than she would have expected. “I guess not. I don’t know them.”
“Then maybe that’s where you should start.” His hands closed over hers and tugged them to the middle of the table. “Find a way to get to know them.”
“But how? I don’t think either of them frequent the library very often.”
“Find another way.” Slowly, he lifted one of her hands to his lips and whispered a kiss across them. “Melissa is helping you with this, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then get her to have a playdate. The kind where the mom comes, too.”
A playdate.
She slipped her hand from his and nudged his chin in her direction, her lips stopping just shy of his. “Has anyone ever told you you’re brilliant?”