Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,83
place. But by the third ring she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Hello?”
“The more proper way to answer would be to say, ‘Good evening, this is Victoria, how may I help you?’ ”
“I’m sorry, Leona, I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have. But that’s why I’m here. To teach you how to act like a true southern belle.”
“You mean like a true southern belle according to Leona Elkin, right?”
“Is there any other way?”
She had to laugh in spite of the pounding behind her temples. “No. I guess not.”
“Now that that’s settled, how did your afternoon with Milo go? Did you take full advantage of your time together?”
“I—uh.” Was it really just that afternoon that she sat on his porch waiting for him to come home? It was hard to fathom. So much had happened.
“Don’t tell me she wrestled him away again? Good heavens, Victoria, are you remembering to put on your makeup and wear something provocative?”
“Put on my makeup and wear something provocative?” she repeated. “No. I mean, yes. I mean, no.”
“You’re making my head ache, dear.”
“Tell me about it.” She inhaled a much-needed sense of calm. “I wore makeup. I dressed in a way that acknowledged the afternoon hour and no, Beth didn’t wrestle Milo away from me. Quite the contrary, in fact.”
“Ooooh, that sounds promising.”
She carried the phone into her bedroom and flopped onto the bed, her body sinking into the fleece bedspread. “He threw her out.”
“What?”
She couldn’t help but grin at the excitement in Leona’s voice. “He walked in on her admitting her lies and he threw her out. Then, as soon as she was gone, he asked if I’d give him a little time to himself, too.”
A string of unladylike mumblings filled her ear.
“No, it’s okay, Leona. I understood. But I did go back again after a few hours. And things are fine.”
“How fine, dear?”
“Good. Wonderful.” She rolled onto her side, pulling the phone more tightly to her ear. “Except for one little thing.”
She could almost hear Leona’s eyes roll over the phone. “It’s not anything about us. We’re as solid as ever. It’s just . . . Well, it’s about Beth.”
“I thought he tossed that little hussy to the curb.”
“He did. Only now I’m thinking we’ll need to have her tossed somewhere else.”
“She is still alive, isn’t she?”
“Leona! Stop. Of course she’s still alive.”
“And she’s out of Milo’s house, right?”
She reconfirmed that turn of events.
“Then what else needs to happen?”
She debated against sharing what she suspected but, in the end, she relented, the need to talk her suspicions through more than a little overpowering. “I think she needs to be in jail.”
“Jail? Why?”
“I think she—”
“On second thought, lying to gain access into a man’s home should be some sort of punishable offense, don’t you think?” A funny sound in the background was followed by, “Oh, shut up, would you?”
She pulled the phone from her ear. “Excuse me?”
“Not you, dear. My sister, Margaret Louise. She thinks she’s funny.”
“Margaret Louise is there?” She sat up tall. “What did she say?”
“She said if lying to gain access to a man’s home was a punishable offense, I’d be sitting in a cell myself. Many times over. But she neglects to realize that failure to correct another person’s mistake is not the same as lying.”
“Another person’s mistake?” she asked as she nibbled back the urge to laugh out loud. “What kind of mistake might that be?”
“Why, my age, of course. Men think I’m younger all the time. And who am I to ruin their male egos by correcting them about something so insignificant?”
A second noise in the background was followed by a rise in Leona’s voice. “Twenty years is insignificant.”
That did it. She laughed. Hard. “Would you feel that way if they added twenty years, Leona?”
Silence greeted her question before Margaret Louise came on the phone. “Um, Victoria? What did you just say? I’ve never seen Leona so flabbergasted by anythin’ in my life.”
The laughter died on her lips.
Uh-oh.
“Please tell her it was just a question. You know, a chance to lighten the mood after an evening that was far too long. Okay?” She leaned back against the headboard and closed her eyes, the pain in her head hitting an all-time high.
“What happened?”
“I think I figured out who killed Ashley. Only there’s—”
A gasp echoed in her ear. “Who? Who?”
“Beth.”
“Beth?” Margaret Louise repeated. “You mean Milo’s Beth?”
Milo’s Beth.
“Beth Samuelson,” she corrected. “Milo’s old college girlfriend.”
“Now, Victoria, I realize you’ve not been terribly pleased with her arrival in town and I can’t