“Talking about murder requires something stronger than tea.”
Heads nodded in agreement, and the moment passed. Rayna smiled at me and I smiled back. Divas always stick together.
“When you found Race dead,” Cady Lee asked Trina, “didn’t that make you feel just awful? I mean, y’all dated for such a long time.”
That information caught all our immediate attention.
I didn’t know where to look. Trina seemed caught off-guard by the question, and Cady Lee looked guileless. Of course, with Cady Lee it’s hard to tell sometimes. When we went to grade school together she was always voted the prettiest and had all the boys buzzing around her like bees at a sorghum mill. I still don’t know how she managed to keep them in order. It must have taken a certain amount of guile, after all.
I’ve learned through the years that we are who we are no matter how much older we’ve gotten, or how much life we’ve experienced. We may learn certain lessons, even if it’s not to do that again, but we just can’t help ingrained personality traits. Cady Lee is still a belle and the prettiest girl at the school dances, even though she’s now fifty and her once-brown hair is blond and her once-brown eyes are green or blue, depending upon which set of contact lens she’s wearing. She pulls it off marvelously. So you see, she could have dropped that little gem about Trina Madewell dating Race Champion innocently, or she could have said it knowing it would discomfit Trina. It was a toss-up.
Trina’s face had flushed to an unflattering crimson. She flapped one of her hands at Cady Lee as if to say Oh, that , and remarked, “I hadn’t seen him in ages.”
“But you two were such a hot item. I always thought you’d end up married to him,” said Cady Lee. “Didn’t he give you an engagement ring once?”
Now I was pretty sure Cady Lee meant to needle Trina, or at the very least, get her to say something incriminating. Breathlessly, we all waited for Trina’s answer.
If she said yes, then it gave her a motive for shooting Race, who had, after all, been found by her and/or her sister in her parents’ bed-and-breakfast cottage. We had only their word on that, as did the police, I was pretty sure. Sisters have been known to lie for one another.
Of course, if she said no, it was likely she would still be a “person of interest”, as the police like to say. Oh, this was getting good. It may turn out that Naomi hadn’t shot Race at all.
There are some people who are lucky in life, and others who are not. Today, it was Trina’s turn to get lucky. Or so it seemed at the time.
Just as Trina opened her mouth to say whatever it was we were all dying to hear, Bitty’s expensive Limoges teapot exploded off the matching tray set upon the Turkish ottoman. Lukewarm tea—or Jack Daniel’s—spewed into the air, teacups shot off the tray, pimento cheese triangles launched onto laps, and mixed nuts peppered the antique carpet and guests like small missiles.
Amidst the confusion, I recognized a familiar porcine snort. Chen Ling! How on earth had she gotten out of the upstairs bedroom?
It’s amazing what a fifteen pound dog can do to a set of expensive china when it lands right in the middle of it. I suppose we had all been so eager to hear what Trina would say that no one had noticed the pug’s arrival in the living room. Not one to be ignored for long, and probably sniffing out forbidden foods, Chen Ling had taken matters into her own hands . . . er, paws.
Chaos reigned. Squeals of surprise and horror filled the air as guests leaped to their feet. While the dog gobbled up pimento cheese triangles and nuts, Bitty scrambled to save what she could of her Limoges teapot and dinnerware. Divas hastily scraped tempting bits of sandwiches and nuts onto the floor, either to keep from staining clothes or to avoid being viewed as possible food by a determined pug.
Crawling around on her antique carpet, Bitty gathered up pieces of
Heads nodded in agreement, and the moment passed. Rayna smiled at me and I smiled back. Divas always stick together.
“When you found Race dead,” Cady Lee asked Trina, “didn’t that make you feel just awful? I mean, y’all dated for such a long time.”
That information caught all our immediate attention.
I didn’t know where to look. Trina seemed caught off-guard by the question, and Cady Lee looked guileless. Of course, with Cady Lee it’s hard to tell sometimes. When we went to grade school together she was always voted the prettiest and had all the boys buzzing around her like bees at a sorghum mill. I still don’t know how she managed to keep them in order. It must have taken a certain amount of guile, after all.
I’ve learned through the years that we are who we are no matter how much older we’ve gotten, or how much life we’ve experienced. We may learn certain lessons, even if it’s not to do that again, but we just can’t help ingrained personality traits. Cady Lee is still a belle and the prettiest girl at the school dances, even though she’s now fifty and her once-brown hair is blond and her once-brown eyes are green or blue, depending upon which set of contact lens she’s wearing. She pulls it off marvelously. So you see, she could have dropped that little gem about Trina Madewell dating Race Champion innocently, or she could have said it knowing it would discomfit Trina. It was a toss-up.
Trina’s face had flushed to an unflattering crimson. She flapped one of her hands at Cady Lee as if to say Oh, that , and remarked, “I hadn’t seen him in ages.”
“But you two were such a hot item. I always thought you’d end up married to him,” said Cady Lee. “Didn’t he give you an engagement ring once?”
Now I was pretty sure Cady Lee meant to needle Trina, or at the very least, get her to say something incriminating. Breathlessly, we all waited for Trina’s answer.
If she said yes, then it gave her a motive for shooting Race, who had, after all, been found by her and/or her sister in her parents’ bed-and-breakfast cottage. We had only their word on that, as did the police, I was pretty sure. Sisters have been known to lie for one another.
Of course, if she said no, it was likely she would still be a “person of interest”, as the police like to say. Oh, this was getting good. It may turn out that Naomi hadn’t shot Race at all.
There are some people who are lucky in life, and others who are not. Today, it was Trina’s turn to get lucky. Or so it seemed at the time.
Just as Trina opened her mouth to say whatever it was we were all dying to hear, Bitty’s expensive Limoges teapot exploded off the matching tray set upon the Turkish ottoman. Lukewarm tea—or Jack Daniel’s—spewed into the air, teacups shot off the tray, pimento cheese triangles launched onto laps, and mixed nuts peppered the antique carpet and guests like small missiles.
Amidst the confusion, I recognized a familiar porcine snort. Chen Ling! How on earth had she gotten out of the upstairs bedroom?
It’s amazing what a fifteen pound dog can do to a set of expensive china when it lands right in the middle of it. I suppose we had all been so eager to hear what Trina would say that no one had noticed the pug’s arrival in the living room. Not one to be ignored for long, and probably sniffing out forbidden foods, Chen Ling had taken matters into her own hands . . . er, paws.
Chaos reigned. Squeals of surprise and horror filled the air as guests leaped to their feet. While the dog gobbled up pimento cheese triangles and nuts, Bitty scrambled to save what she could of her Limoges teapot and dinnerware. Divas hastily scraped tempting bits of sandwiches and nuts onto the floor, either to keep from staining clothes or to avoid being viewed as possible food by a determined pug.
Crawling around on her antique carpet, Bitty gathered up pieces of
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