A Killing Notion: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery by Melissa Bourbon Page A

next, adding a rough outline of Buttercup, the empty car bay at the opposite end of the garage, the tools scattered across a workbench in the back. Socket wrenches, air guns, ratchets, screwdrivers. Tools to a mechanic were like notions to a seamstress, which made me realize that Bubba and other mechanics were artists in their own way. They problem-solved, created, fine-tuned, and loved cars in the way that I used thread and a sewing machine, an iron, and other notions to design, create, and execute the perfect garments.
    I flipped the page, an image of a dress with hard lines and edges, a sharp bodice, and pencil skirt forming in my mind. The sketch came quickly, the lines long and precise. Bubba’s had inspired me after all. But before I could add any details, the door from the garage opened. Bubba walked behind the counter, brought the computer to life, and in seconds, had printed out an invoice for Buttercup’s state inspection.
    “Thanks, Otis,” I said, handing over my credit card. “It was nice to meet you.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod. “Glad to see you takin’ care of Loretta Mae’s truck.”
    “Buttercup,” I said with a smile.
    I felt his eyes on me as I walked to the door. Stopping, I turned back to him. “Tell Shane I said hey.”
    “Shane ain’t been ’round since the accident,” he said. “Before, even.”
    For a split second, I had a glimmer of hope that that would somehow prove his innocence. But it vanished with a pop. Anyone who knew how to tamper with a car would do it covertly, and certainly not for everyone to see right at an auto repair shop. “Of course not. I imagine being here would remind him too much of his dad.”
    Otis arched a bushy eyebrow at me. “I think you got it all wrong, Ms. Cassidy.”
    I arched an eyebrow right back at him. “How so, Bubba?”
    “I’d bet my own life that Shane did it. He had the know-how. He woulda had the opportunity. And with the way he fought with his old man, he might coulda snapped.”

Chapter 6
    I’d gone to Bubba’s hoping to find something that would help Shane. Instead I’d come away with Bubba’s parting statement weighing heavily on my mind.
The way he fought with his old man, he might coulda snapped.
    Three staccato blasts from a horn sounded behind me. I jerked out of my thoughts, glancing at the stoplight—still red—and then in the rearview mirror. Will’s truck was directly behind me at the light. He raised his hand in a wave, then pointed to the side of the road.
    I pulled into the first parking lot I ran across. He rolled to a stop behind me, exiting his truck and ambling up to my door as if he’d pulled me over for a traffic violation.
    “Fancy meeting you here, darlin’,” he said, leaning down to the open window, one side of his mouth lifting in a small grin.
    I smiled right back. “Mr. Flores, are you followin’ me?”
    “I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go.”
    “What if I told you I was heading to Granbury,” I said,batting my eyes coquettishly. “Would you still follow me?”
    He tugged on the bill of his Longhorns ball cap, considering me. “I’d ask you what you were after in Granbury.”
    “Ah, so you have conditions on your attention,” I said.
    His grin widened. “Nope, no conditions, just curiosity.”
    “Then it doesn’t matter what I’m after in Granbury,” I said. He knew I was looking into Mr. Montgomery’s death, but I had a niggling feeling he wasn’t fully on board with the idea.
    “It only matters so I can decide if I should follow you”—he stood up and pointed his keys at his truck. It beeped twice in quick succession. He came around to Buttercup’s passenger side and got in—“or if I should just drive with you. But I figure you’re up to something. . . .”
    I swung my body to face him, stifling my smile. “What makes you think I’m up to something?”
    “If you weren’t, you’d be back at your shop sewing something.”
    I started to object, but