DEAD AS a DOORNAIL Page 6

  “Don’t forget Jolee Fischer had words with Lucy Ellen too.” Poppa knew that Jolee was my friend, but to be fair we questioned anyone and everyone. “Everyone’s a suspect until we get the real killer.”

  I looked down at my phone and used the pad of my thumb to scroll to Finn’s name. I hit send.

  “Hey there.” Finn was always so chipper when I called.

  “You won’t sound so happy when I tell you that Lucy Ellen Lowell was murdered.” I turned the Wagoneer off and reached behind me, dragging that godawful green dress to the front seat. “Max Bogus just called. He said that when he put Lucy’s information into the computer to generate the death certificate, she popped up as an organ donor. Long story short, her organs are poisoned with cyanide.”

  “You called it.” Finn didn’t seem as surprised as I thought he would. “I don’t know how you do it, but you can spot a murdered victim in a second flat upon arrival to a scene.”

  “Maybe one day I’ll tell you my secret,” I said, looking over at Poppa.

  “No you won’t either,” Poppa warned.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “I’ve actually got to go into Blanche Bailey’s to try on this maid-of-honor dress for Polly’s wedding. After that I’m going to go grab the report from Max and head back to the office to open the official homicide investigation.” There were definitely some things he could do that would help. “Max said he was going to call Darnell and turn the case over to us. Do you think you can head back over to the Lowell place and secure the scene? We have to scour that entire house.”

  I was never so glad that I took photos than I was right now.

  “I can do that.” He was so agreeable.

  “And I also want you to go ask Jolee about her confrontation with Lucy.” There was no way I wanted to question Jolee. It was a conflict of interest. “She said something about her and Lucy Ellen having an argument over the food at Polly’s wedding or something. I really can’t recall because it was when I was at Tiny Tina’s and they were all gossiping about everything.”

  I wished I’d listened better now.

  “That’s a tough situation to be in with your best friend.” He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.

  “That’s why I want you to interview her. Not that I think she did it, but I feel like I need to question everyone who Lucy Ellen had words with.” It was only logical.

  Back issues of the Cottonwood Chronicle would help me figure out who all those people were since Lucy Ellen was so good at writing negative reviews. The library would have all the back issues.

  “Then your best friend is going to hate me. That’s the last thing I want as your boyfriend.” Him just saying that made me tingly. “I do love you.”

  “I love you too. So maybe we can get together at your place tonight since we always go to mine.” It was a simple suggestion, but I loved his new addition and comfy couch. “A night of Netflix and some snuggling. Of course with Duke and Cosmo.” I had to throw in the fur babies.

  “Kenni Lowry, you’re sweet talking me into going to talk to Jolee.” The hint of sexy teasing made me giggle.

  “Is it working?” I asked.

  “I can’t wait. I’ll even grab us a couple of plates of food from her food truck.” That was a great plan. “I’ll text you when I get finished securing the Lowell house.”

  “Be sure to tell Darnell that we need him to stay somewhere else tonight.” I almost forgot that he couldn’t be there. Not that the place wasn’t probably already tainted from him there, but at least I’d taken some photos. “Talk soon.”

  “Sounds good.” He clicked off before me. I smiled. Suddenly going to try on the nasty green dress in my grip didn’t seem so bad knowing that Finn was going to be next to me all night.

  “Really? Your mama and daddy were never that goo-goo over each other.” Poppa rolled his eyes. “We’ve got to stay focused. Keep our eye on the prize. The killer. Cottonwood isn’t safe.”

  “First, I’ve still got to live life, and that includes this dress and my relationship with Finn.” My brows rose. “Cottonwood is safe. Lucy Ellen Lowell had a lot more enemies than anyone realized. She made someone mad and that’s who’s killed her. You and I will figure it out like we always do.”

  “That’s not how we did things when I was sheriff.” Poppa was old school and I knew that.

  “Poppa, you’re here to help me. I’m the sheriff now, and right now we have to let Max do his job and figure out how he thinks she got the poison. There’s nothing we can do until her body talks to him. In the meantime, we’ll pay Tina another visit.”

  Poppa must’ve hated my answer because he ghosted away.

  “Oh well.” The green dress was flapping in the wind behind me on my way up to Blanche’s door. I jumped back when she flung the door open.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” she trilled and swung one arm out. “Tibbie called.”

  There was an elastic snap attached to her wrist and she wore a bright yellow-and-orange-swirl caftan. Her red hair flowed down her back. Her big brown eyes shone and a smile curled up on the edges of her lips. She took a step back for me to enter.

  If there was one thing that Blanche was, it was eccentric. She was in so many women’s groups because the word on the street was that the women in Cottonwood liked to know where Blanche was at all times. She was a flirt and she didn’t care who she flirted with. The women wanted to keep her close to them.

  “Who’s been waiting for me?” I asked and stepped into the red walls of her lair.

  “The girls from bell choir.” She dragged her long fingers down her hair. There was a smirk on her face. She reached out. “I’ll take that.” She plucked the dress from my hands.

  “And why have they been waiting for me?” I asked.

  “Do come on in.” She walked down the hall and opened a door. “You can go in here and try on the dress. When you are ready, just walk down the hallway and you’ll find us.”

  She hooked the dress on a coat tree inside the room. The room had three sewing machines and all three looked to be in use with something stuck to the needle. There was a rack of clothes and tags with names written on each one. Blanche was a busy woman.

  After I’d gotten my sheriff’s uniform off, I unzipped the curtain...er...dress and slipped it on. I could barely reach the zipper so I left what I couldn’t reach. The murmuring and whispers spilled out and down the hall, leading me right to the women. This room was painted red too. There was a black fireplace that literally hung from the ceiling. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen. There was a low flame that had to have been set for ambiance. The sweet songs of Frank Sinatra spilled from the ceiling speakers.

  On the couch sat Mama, Myrna Savage, Ruby Smith, Viola White, and Dr. Camille Shively with big smiles on their faces.

  “Tea?” Blanche dramatically swung her hand across a three-tiered plate filled with cookies and other sweet treats. “Cookie?”

  “Well, hello,” I said in a flat voice.

  Mama jumped up.

  “Let me zip you the rest of the way up.” She hurried behind me.

  “Oh, you look so lovely. Gone with the Wind.” Camille’s shoulders and edges of her mouth lifted in a delighted gesture before she stuffed a cookie in her mouth.

  “Don’t you have patients?” I asked, wondering how I was going to slip in some questions about Lucy’s health, though it really didn’t matter now that her death had gone from natural to homicide. I was still curious.

  “I get a lunch.” She eased back in the folds of the couch. “Besides, I wouldn’t’ve missed seeing you in that dress for the world after I heard you were filling in.”

  If I’d not pushed all the air out of my lungs to try and get this dress zipped up, I would’ve protested.

  “If you could just get it over her bottom rib, you can tug
real hard.” Viola White gave her two cents before she jumped up, pushing her big round black glasses upon the edge of her nose. “Let me try.”

  “Really?” My brows rose.

  “Suck up and in.” Viola’s head jerked around my right shoulder to look at me so she knew I heard what she said. Her bright red lipstick gave a pop of color to her pasty white skin and short, spikey red hair.

  “I’m sucking in the best I can.” I filled my lungs again.

  She jerked, and red feathers on her vest flew through the air.

  “Pfft. Pfft,” I blew as the feathers floated down and got close to my mouth.

  “Honey, you might be happy it don’t fit. I mean, the color.” Viola gave up. She came around to look at the front of the dress. Her fingers played with the multi-beaded necklace that draped her neckline under the vest. “I love color. It gives a little life. In fact, color can raise the dead, but this color won’t raise no one.”

  “Mmmhmm.” Ruby Smith nodded and agreed. Her lips and hair matched Viola’s red feathery vest. Her lips pursed. “Ugly.”

  “Move it, Viola.” Mama practically shoved Viola out of the way. She tugged the dress a little further up on my waist and walked behind me.

  “This is my daughter’s time to shine in a dress in front of Cottonwood. I’m not giving up that easily.” Mama tugged on the zipper and jutted me forward a few times.

  “Mama, you’re hurting me.” I cringed.

  “Fashion hurts.” Viola White always wore the awfulest-looking get-ups she claimed were high fashion. Since she was the wealthiest woman in Cottonwood, she should know.

  Mama whispered something so low I couldn’t understand her.

  “Huh?” I asked and jerked as the zipper pierced my skin with another jerk.

  She mumbled so I still couldn’t hear her.

  “What?” I asked again.

  “Suck in!” she hollered with a follow up of gasps from the peanut gallery. “More!”

  “Honey.” Blanche tsked, walking slowly around me. Her eyes focused on the dress or maybe the skin that was trying to get stuffed in the dress. My skin. “Looks like someone’s gained a little weight.” She winked at me. “Happy weight.”

  I sucked in.

  “Try it again, Mama.” No way had I gained weight.

  When I felt Mama start to tug, I sucked in real deep this time because the look on all of those henny-hen faces was my signal that my not being able to fit into the dress was going to be the hot topic of gossip. Forget about Lucy Ellen Lowell dying. Mama sucked in too and held her breath.

  “Nuh-uh.” Mama let go, the air leaving her body. “It’s not going to zip.” There was a bit of disappointment in her tone.

  “Yes. Happy fat.” Blanche did another walk around me.

  This time there was a yellow measuring tape dangling around her neck like a scarf and a pincushion in the shape of a tomato clipped around her wrist with all sorts of pins stuck in it.

  “Happy fat?” I wasn’t sure, but I think Blanche Bailey just called me fat. “There’s no such thing.”

  Was there? I looked at Camille.

  “This is just an old dress that’s not the right size.” I sucked in so much that I nearly passed out.

  “Nope. Not going to zip.” Mama’s face had a look of concern. “Can you add fabric?” She turned to Blanche.

  “Mmmhmm.” Blanche nodded and ho-hummed behind pinched lips. “That’s happy fat for sure. It’s what we get when we are in love. So you must be in love with that handsome Finn Vincent.”

  “Not that northerner. No way. Ain’t that right, Kenni?” Myrna Savage’s eyes focused on the dress.

  “Love doesn’t put fat on you.” It was ridiculous. “Right, Camille?”

  Camille looked up over her tea cup. She took a quick sip and set it on the saucer on the coffee table in front of her.

  “It’s not a real term, but I have heard that when we are happy, we tend to gain a little weight, but that’s just from some silly study. I didn’t read it because you still look good and as your doctor, I’d tell you if I was concerned.”

  “I’m sure concerned,” Mama griped.

  “Alright.” I turned and headed back down the hall. “I’m out of here.”

  “Viv! What’s wrong with you?” I heard Blanche say to Mama. “She’s not only a wonderful woman, but she’s an amazing sheriff and girlfriend.”

  I shut the room door that Blanche used as the dressing room for her sewing business. I turned around, my reflection was staring back at me from the mirrored closet doors. The green dress did nothing for me. I swear the movie version was much more romantic than the real version and surely to goodness Polly Parker didn’t think this dress was pretty.

  “Easy for you to say. You’ve got a daughter who’s married and gave you grandchildren. I’m beginning to think Kenni is allergic to being a wife. She wants to go around packing a gun all day and chasing bad guys.” Mama did the same song and dance with them as she did me.

  “She looks great. You’re gonna run that girl off one day,” Myrna warned. “And you complain that she doesn’t stop by and see you all the time. Well, I wouldn’t either if you talked about me like that.”

  I turned around and looked at the backside. There wasn’t much more room for the zipper to be zipped. Happy fat? Who ever heard of such a thing?

  “Maybe I do, behind your back,” Mama teased Myrna.

  “Speaking of gossip.” Myrna’s voice caught my attention. “Can y’all believe that Lucy Ellen is dead?”

  “Such a shame, and at a young age.” Blanche’s voice and footsteps were coming closer to the dressing room. There was a slight knock on the door. “Kenni, can I come in?”

  I took one last look in the mirrored closet doors and with a deep sigh, walked over to the door and opened it.

  “Come on in,” I said flatly. “Happy fat? Really?”

  “Honey, it’s no big deal. You’ll lose it. I see that boy stare at you when I’m at Ben’s eating breakfast. You don’t even notice me because you’re so goo-goo over him.” She smiled. There was a twinkle in her eye. “I wish I had that kind of love. All them women think I’m trying to steal their men, but I’m not. I just like a little attention.” She winked and planted a hand on each of my shoulders. She turned me around to look in the mirrors. “You know what I see?”

  I shook my head and looked at her as she peered over my shoulder.

  “I see a strong, independent woman that never let anyone stop her from getting what she wanted. Including Finn Vincent.” She grinned ear to ear. “All them single girls out there nearly fell all over each other trying to court him. He only had eyes for you. I could see it. Besides, this dress is ugly and the fabric doesn’t give. I have no idea what Polly Parker was thinking.”

  I laughed and pushed my shoulders back.

  “Chance Ryland is no Rhett Butler.” Her brows rose and she winked. She patted my shoulders. “Now, let me get this pinned all together and I’ll have it ready in no time. And…” She looked me square in the eyes. “Between me and you, that girl Polly had as a maid of honor, I bet she saw this dress and immediately backed out.” Her fingernail tapped my chest. “You’ve got a heart of gold. I know you and Polly aren’t friends, but that’s your nature. A giving spirit. Don’t you listen to your mama.”

  Blanche Bailey should’ve been a therapist. I left that room feeling better than I had in years. There wasn’t anything stopping me from confronting Mama and the other women as they sipped their teas and gossiped about Lucy.

  “We’ve got it all taken care of,” Blanche said and headed back to the chaise lounge in the corner of the family room. Her caftan billowed out around her before she sat down. “Now, what was it you were saying about Lucy Ellen Lowell?”

  “Myrna was talking about how Kenni was dispatched to their house this morning when Darnell got h
ome and found her dead of an apparent heart attack.” Mama had no problems telling my business. Her mantra was what was mine was hers and what was hers was hers.

  My eyes lowered when I looked at Myrna. She turned her face and chin away from my glare. I knew she could see me even from the dimly lit room that was lit up from a dangling light that was red with gold flecks. Blanche Bailey sure did love red.

  “I have a po-lice scanner.” Myrna crossed her arms. “Ain’t nothing illegal about that.”

  “Camille, Darnell told me that she just came to see you last week. Was she ill? Such a shame,” I said, adding the last part for good measure.

  I took the tea Blanche had poured for me and sat down in one of the chairs.

  “She had claimed she was seeing stars, you know, like from high blood pressure. I gave her a machine to wear and nothing ever registered.” She let out a long sigh of sadness. “She was healthy as far as I could tell. Sometimes freak heart attacks happen.”

  “You didn’t give her any meds?” I asked.

  “I’d have to look in her chart, but I could’ve told her to take a vitamin or baby aspirin or something.” She shrugged.

  “She didn’t die of a heart attack.” Gingerly, I brought my tea up to my lips and took a sip, enjoying the dropped jaws and popped open eyes staring back at me. These women weren’t just part of the bell choir, they were the hiney hens of Cottonwood. What I meant by that: they were the gossip central to all things worth gossiping about. Like my Poppa taught me, there’s a little bit of truth in all gossip. If I kept my ear to the rumblings, I just might get some information or leads to check out. Especially about people who had something against Lucy Ellen Lowell. Because any lead right now was a welcomed one.

  “She was poisoned. I’m now investigating it as a murder.” I set the cup down on the table. “Which reminds me. I’ve got some people I need to talk to.”

  “People?” Myrna asked in a silky voice and leaned forward. All the henny-hens, the gossiping women in the room, focused on me. “As in who?” Myrna shifted her legs to the side and took a sip of her tea as if she weren’t as interested as she really was.