Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,79
her husband that Vickie was going over to Swallows every week to meet Alex.”
“That doesn’t seem likely, not when Beth was doing the same thing with that Jack guy. She had secrets, too, remember. I don’t think she’d want to give her husband any ideas.”
Eve was right. I acknowledged it with a tip of my head. “Maybe Michael killed Vickie.” It was a bad idea; I knew that the moment the words left my lips. I tossed it out, anyway, for what it was worth and because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“You mean, maybe Michael and Vickie were having an affair?” Eve cocked her head, considering the suggestion. “And he knew Vickie was seeing Alex, too? And he went over there, and in a jealous rage he killed Vickie?”
“And then he picked up a coaster as a souvenir.” My shoulders slumped. I saw where she was going with her argument, but hey, I knew the theory was weak from the moment I mentioned it, so I wasn’t too disappointed to watch it get shot down.
As usual, I didn’t stay glum for long. “So let’s look at it another way. If the coaster didn’t belong to Michael, and it wasn’t Beth’s, maybe someone else left it there. That would be easy enough to do. Each of the friends knows where the others keep their hide-a-keys. And they’re together at least once a week for the wine tastings, and their husbands come, too. Maybe someone left the coaster there as a kind of message to Michael or Beth.”
Eve liked the sound of this. Her eyes sparkled. “That’s brilliant, Annie! It’s a message. I like that. What does the message mean?”
She had me there. Fortunately, I didn’t have a chance to try to explain my brilliant theory. Marie showed up with both our dresses in garment bags and made me promise to show her lots of pictures from the wedding. Of course I agreed, and we left to get back over to Bellywasher’s before the evening dinner crowd started to gather.
Did I mention that the dress shop is in Old Town Alexandria, not far from Bellywasher’s? And that since it was a gorgeous spring day, the sidewalks were packed with tourists and locals out enjoying the sunshine? On our way back to the pub, we barely had a chance to walk next to each other, much less talk. When we stopped at a red light to cross a street, I waited for Eve to worm her way through the crowd to my side. Because I didn’t want to lose her in the press, I’d just missed the last light, and I toed the edge of the curb and tried not to get too annoyed when a lady behind me poked me with the corner of her very large purse.
When Eve finally found her way to me, I picked up right where I’d left off and knew she wouldn’t miss a beat. That’s what being best friends is all about. It was one of the reasons I knew she’d understand when I explained, “All these people . . . Vickie and Celia and Glynis and Beth . . . they were all best friends. And their husband are best friends, too. They’ve known each other forever, some of them work together, their kids all play together. That means Michael probably didn’t kill Vickie. It just doesn’t make sense. And I don’t think Tyler’s right about Beth killing Vickie, either. For one thing, that doesn’t explain what happened to Beth.”
Eve nodded. “So you think the same person killed them both.”
“It makes sense.” It did. It was one of the few aspects of the case that did. “So if we solve one murder, we’ll solve the other. And I’d love to know why Edward fell for Beth’s blackmail if he wasn’t the one who killed Vickie, and if he is, I’d love to know how he did it in the first place when he was at that coaching meeting that night. And then there’s Michael saying that Beth wasn’t supposed to die yet. And Chip. He’s miserable and yeah, a couple of his wife’s friends have died, but that doesn’t explain why he’s so jumpy and—” Over to my left, across a side street from where we waited, a bus pulled away from the curb and, by force of habit, I took a step back.
That was the exact moment somebody put a hand to the small of my back and gave me a