eyes welled with tears. Coco nudged her glasses up with the backs of her fingers, jamming them back into position. And then Coco said, “Delta didn’t fall and hit her head. The deputy said she had blunt force trauma to the back of her head.”
The women stood frozen, each of them processing what Coco had said.
“What does that mean?” Cynthia finally asked.
Coco scanned the circle, looking at each of the women who’d been closest to Delta. “It means she didn’t fall, and it wasn’t an accident. It means,” she said, “that Delta was murdered.”
Chapter 6
A short while later, the majority of the Red Hatters had left Buttons & Bows. Only Cynthia Homer, Sherri Wynblad, and Coco Jones stayed. We sat in the little seating area, Coco on the red velvet settee, one of Meemaw’s original pieces of furniture. Sherri sat back on the loveseat, her fingers intertwined in front of her. Cynthia and Mama sat together on the couch, Mama still looking shell-shocked that she’d almost been the one to break the news about there being another murder in Bliss, and Cynthia, if I wasn’t mistaken, looking a little bit thrilled to be part of something so out of the ordinary.
I leaned back against the armoire that housed part of my fabric collection, one cowboy-booted foot crossed over the other, my arms folded protectively in front of me. Delta was dead, and my suspicions had been right. She’d been murdered. I felt the warm presence of Meemaw by my side, buoying me in this moment of crisis. Because once again, it appeared that I was in the thick of a murder.
I’d
discovered Delta’s body.
She’d had in her possession the apron
I’d
just made for her.
She’d been
my
next-door neighbor.
And I was still making aprons for all of her closest friends . . . since, as far as they’d said, the progressive dinner was still on.
I’d been through this sort of thing before, and I still couldn’t make sense of how someone could come to the decision to take another person’s life. Murder seemed to happen all around me, and sometimes, like now, I had to wonder if it was my ancestor Butch Cassidy’s bad karma that kept coming back to me. And I also wondered if helping to solve murders would somehow help right his wrongs from so long ago.
Or maybe I was just plumb crazy.
Coco shook her head. “How will we ever tell Mother that Delta was murdered?”
No one had a good answer to that. Mama shook her head and filled the silence with her own question. “Why would anyone want her dead?”
Cynthia kept her eyes cast downward. Coco and Sherri remained silent.
Coco opened her mouth to say something but closed it again. Whatever her private thoughts were, she was keeping them to herself.
I wasn’t a detective, but I’d had enough experience to warrant butting in. “Having an enemy who would want you dead is big. Murder isn’t easy,” I said to Coco and Sherri. “There has to be a motive, right? The sheriff’ll ask both of you what you think because y’all knew her the best.”
Cynthia cleared her throat and looked up, her gaze passing over each of us. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, knowing full well that’s precisely what she was doing, and seemingly relishing the attention, “and I don’t want to tossnames out, you know, in case they’re innocent, but I saw Delta and Jeremy Lisle, over at the Historic District? They were arguing about something. I wonder . . .”
She didn’t want to toss out a name, but she’d done it anyway. I didn’t know Jeremy Lisle, but I instantly felt bad for him. People argued, but that didn’t mean they would kill someone. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was capable of murder. I’d been through that once before, and it still left a sour taste in my mouth . . . and had lit a fire under my behind. Nothing like needing to clear your name to help you solve a murder.
“Did you hear what the argument was about?” Coco asked.
The corner of Cynthia’s mouth lifted in a
The women stood frozen, each of them processing what Coco had said.
“What does that mean?” Cynthia finally asked.
Coco scanned the circle, looking at each of the women who’d been closest to Delta. “It means she didn’t fall, and it wasn’t an accident. It means,” she said, “that Delta was murdered.”
Chapter 6
A short while later, the majority of the Red Hatters had left Buttons & Bows. Only Cynthia Homer, Sherri Wynblad, and Coco Jones stayed. We sat in the little seating area, Coco on the red velvet settee, one of Meemaw’s original pieces of furniture. Sherri sat back on the loveseat, her fingers intertwined in front of her. Cynthia and Mama sat together on the couch, Mama still looking shell-shocked that she’d almost been the one to break the news about there being another murder in Bliss, and Cynthia, if I wasn’t mistaken, looking a little bit thrilled to be part of something so out of the ordinary.
I leaned back against the armoire that housed part of my fabric collection, one cowboy-booted foot crossed over the other, my arms folded protectively in front of me. Delta was dead, and my suspicions had been right. She’d been murdered. I felt the warm presence of Meemaw by my side, buoying me in this moment of crisis. Because once again, it appeared that I was in the thick of a murder.
I’d
discovered Delta’s body.
She’d had in her possession the apron
I’d
just made for her.
She’d been
my
next-door neighbor.
And I was still making aprons for all of her closest friends . . . since, as far as they’d said, the progressive dinner was still on.
I’d been through this sort of thing before, and I still couldn’t make sense of how someone could come to the decision to take another person’s life. Murder seemed to happen all around me, and sometimes, like now, I had to wonder if it was my ancestor Butch Cassidy’s bad karma that kept coming back to me. And I also wondered if helping to solve murders would somehow help right his wrongs from so long ago.
Or maybe I was just plumb crazy.
Coco shook her head. “How will we ever tell Mother that Delta was murdered?”
No one had a good answer to that. Mama shook her head and filled the silence with her own question. “Why would anyone want her dead?”
Cynthia kept her eyes cast downward. Coco and Sherri remained silent.
Coco opened her mouth to say something but closed it again. Whatever her private thoughts were, she was keeping them to herself.
I wasn’t a detective, but I’d had enough experience to warrant butting in. “Having an enemy who would want you dead is big. Murder isn’t easy,” I said to Coco and Sherri. “There has to be a motive, right? The sheriff’ll ask both of you what you think because y’all knew her the best.”
Cynthia cleared her throat and looked up, her gaze passing over each of us. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, knowing full well that’s precisely what she was doing, and seemingly relishing the attention, “and I don’t want to tossnames out, you know, in case they’re innocent, but I saw Delta and Jeremy Lisle, over at the Historic District? They were arguing about something. I wonder . . .”
She didn’t want to toss out a name, but she’d done it anyway. I didn’t know Jeremy Lisle, but I instantly felt bad for him. People argued, but that didn’t mean they would kill someone. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was capable of murder. I’d been through that once before, and it still left a sour taste in my mouth . . . and had lit a fire under my behind. Nothing like needing to clear your name to help you solve a murder.
“Did you hear what the argument was about?” Coco asked.
The corner of Cynthia’s mouth lifted in a
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