The Widows of Eden by George Shaffner Page A

life. Is that what he said to you, Wilma?”
    â€œMore or less. He told me that money was mentioned but no figures were discussed.”
    I finished my lemonade and motioned to Lily to pass me the pitcher. While I refilled my glass, she said, “You’re Clem’s fiancée, Wilma. How much can he afford to pay Mr. Moore?”
    â€œA zillion dollars, give or take, but I don’t see why it matters. Mr. Moore has never been interested in money. He seems to have plenty of his own. Isn’t that so, Loretta?”
    Dottie interrupted, “I’d have to agree. The man won’t even file a missing vehicle report when his brand-new car disappears. But before we get into Vernon’s motives — whatever they may be — we need to address a more pressing problem.”
    â€œA more pressing problem? What in the world could that be?”
    â€œThink about it, Mary. What will happen if informationabout this deal leaks to the general membership? We’ll have a revolt on our hands. The mob will take to the streets. The Come Again will become the Bastille of the Plains.”
    â€œAren’t you letting your imagination go a little overboard?” Lo said. “As I recall, no political prisoners were left in the Bastille when the crowd arrived. The jailer invited them in for tea.”
    â€œUh huh, and as I recall, the mob wasn’t placated,” Dot retorted. “I would’ve offered them beer myself. That would’ve done the trick.”
    In my mind’s eye, the double-wide line from my door to Main Street was converted from a column of patient, mild-mannered petitioners into a swarm of angry French peasants waving pitchforks and teensy cups of espresso. The irony of a tea offering was instantly obvious.
    Hail Mary intervened. “Dottie’s right. As of now, only Pearline, Marie, and the six of us know what Vernon and Lord Clem are talking about. Is that true?”
    Everybody nodded in the affirmative so she continued, “From this moment forward, every aspect of this deal must remain confidential to the board. That means no gossip, girls, and I mean no gossip. Zero. Lily, you need to call Marie and make sure that nothing leaks out of the River House. Wilma, you need to make sure that Vernon doesn’t tell anybody else, especially Louise Nelson. That woman will talk the ears off a cornstalk.”
    â€œShe’s at the River House every day, Mary. She’s going to find out anyway.”
    â€œThen tell her yourself, and make sure she keeps her mouth shut. Tell Mona to keep an eye on John, too. If there’s a problem …”
    Lily looked at the rest of us like she was about to blow a gasket. “ If there’s a problem? If there’s a problem? Am I the only one who’s suspicious here? I never got close to Mr. Moore like some of you did, but my alarm bells went off the day that manwalked into Millet’s. What if he’s a crook? What if this is some sort of swindle?”
    Loretta smiled sweetly. “You have me, Lily. I faked a coma for six weeks while the evil Vernon Moore plotted the second phase of his plan, which was to deprive the town of a vicious religious sect. And don’t forget the dastardly Wilma. She has to be in on it, too.”
    â€œFine! But nobody knows diddly-squat about the man except that he shows up out of nowhere every two years, he stays for exactly six days, and somebody dies or doesn’t. We also know that Clem Tucker is about to cross swords with the Angel of Death — which can’t be a coincidence — and he has more money than Kuwait. Doesn’t that sound like motive, means, and opportunity, Mary?”
    â€œMaybe, but no crime has been committed, so they’re irrelevant, at least for now. The bottom line is that we have no idea what Mr. Moore intends to do this week.”
    â€œThat’s not so,” I replied. “He’s going to sell Clem some