A Custom Fit Crime (25 page)

I called Gavin as I turned the key and revved Buttercup to life. Lindy and Madelyn piled in next to me. “After Beaulieu died and your team came to Buttons and Bows, did you find a cup in the wastebasket by the door?” I asked the deputy.

It was a quick conversation. He consulted his notes and reported back to me. “No coffee cup, Harlow,” he said, and he hung up.

Maybe I’d been too quick to dismiss Gavin and shoddy police work. A few minutes later, we were back at Buttons & Bows. I threw the truck into park and we all spilled out, dashing through the side gate, over the flagstone path, up the porch steps, bursting into the shop.

We stopped short just inside the door and gathered round the wastebasket as if we were the three Shakespearean witches circling their cauldron. We stared down at it. An empty spool of thread. Tissue. A few lopsided felt beads—rejects from my bead making with Orphie. A crumpled piece of paper from my design book.

No cup.

“Maybe you just thought you saw him throw something away,” Lindy said.

No, I wasn’t delusional. “I saw it.” I replayed the scene in my mind. “He walked in after Midori. He threw the cup away, then started his tirade against small-town America.” The answer suddenly came to me. “Oh no.”

“What, love? You look like you’ve seen a . . . a ghost,” Madelyn said. She hesitated, looking around in case Meemaw was actually present and I had seen her.

“No, no ghost. Someone broke in here and searched the shop and the upstairs.” I whirled around on my boot heels. “What if that’s what whoever broke in was after?”

Lindy jotted something in her notepad but shook her head. “Are you saying they came for the cup? But they searched the whole house?”

“Why would they do that?” Madelyn asked. “If they were after the cup, why keep looking?”

Maximilian’s book no longer seemed like the most logical answer, but I didn’t have a better one. If someone poisoned Beaulieu before he ever got to Bliss, they’d planned it, knowing he’d simply collapse sometime during the day. No exact time or place. Maybe it was just my bad luck that he’d died in my shop. Maybe it had nothing whatsoever to do with Orphie or the book.

But then what else were they searching for?

My head spun, my thoughts compressed like the tufts of wool pressed together to make the felt beads. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Lindy had gone back to the inn, Madelyn had gone home to her husband, and I was on my own back at Buttons & Bows. Some people turned to yoga or alcohol or chocolate to relax their nerves and give them clarity. Not me. I turned to hand-sewing. I’d hoped a needle, thread, a leather thimble, a pile of beads and sequins, and Mama’s wedding dress would do the trick, but so far understanding was eluding me.

No answers miraculously appeared before me. I still had a slew of ideas, none of which I could prove, and none of which seemed quite right. Not even Meemaw’s warm presence could help direct my thoughts in what felt like the right direction. Some detail danced on the edges of my brain, but I couldn’t get a handle on what it was, or what it might have to do with Beaulieu’s murder or Orphie’s poisoning.

There was a murderer on the loose in Bliss, and I was no closer to figuring out the truth than I’d been the day before. A car door slamming outside broke through the swirling thoughts in my head. A few minutes later, the sound of footsteps on the porch sent a jolt of fear through me. I threw down my handwork and hurried to the front door, checking the lock. Secure.

My heartbeat was frenzied, but I leaned my ear against the door, listening. The footsteps had stopped, but something scraped against the wood, and the door handle turned.

My breath caught in my throat. “Meemaw!” I whispered with a sharp hiss. I wasn’t sure what she could do against an intruder, but surely between the two of us, we could fend off whoever was on the porch.

The door handle twisted again against the lock. Three quick, heavy raps came next, and I jumped back. “Meemaw!” I whispered again, my heart in my throat.

“Harlow! Open up.”

I scooted to the side of the door, pulling the shade back to peer through the narrow window. Gavin stood there with his arm around Orphie.

“What in tarnation . . . !” I threw open the door and stood back while Gavin steered Orphie inside. Glancing out toward the empty street eased my mind. The night was calm and quiet and no murderers seemed to be lurking in the dark.

“I couldn’t stay another minute in that hospital,” Orphie said as Gavin helped her recline on the red velvet settee. Lounging on her side and with her black hair and drawn cheeks, she looked like Cleopatra.

“But did the doctor give the okay?”

Gavin spoke up. “He would have preferred her to spend the night, but I told him we’d keep a good eye on her. She needs rest, is all. Need anything, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, smiling up at him.

He sat on the love seat in the little sitting area, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, his attention fully on her. These two were the epitome of love at first sight.

We spent a few minutes making small talk, making sure she was comfortable, each of us tiptoeing around what had happened. Finally I couldn’t keep quiet about it a second longer. “Orphie, do you remember when everyone arrived here the other morning?”

She had one arm tucked underneath her body as she reclined on her side. With her free hand, she brushed her black curls away from her face. “Yes, of course I do. I was a bundle of nerves getting ready to meet Beaulieu.”

It was the perfect opening. “When he came in, do you remember if he had a coffee cup?” I didn’t think I’d imagined him having it, but I needed someone to corroborate what I’d seen.

She closed her eyes, as if she were trying to bring the moment to the front of her memory. Finally she shook her head. “I don’t remember. I was getting my things together to take upstairs.”

The sheer curtains rustled. Orphie jumped, straining to look over her shoulder. Gavin jerked, instantly on alert. “What the devil—?”

Meemaw! I silently cursed her for showing herself so blatantly. I’d just called her, wanting her help when I’d thought the pounding on the door was an intruder, but everything was fine now. “Probably just Earl Grey. My little teacup pig,” I added when Gavin cocked an eyebrow up.

“Look,” I said, drawing them back to Beaulieu and the missing coffee cup. “They stopped for coffee on their way from Dallas to Bliss. Any one of them could have put the poison in his coffee, right?”

I picked up Mama’s wedding dress again, diving back into the beads and sequins adorning the dress. “But what do I have to do with any of it?” Orphie asked, her eyes wide as she looked at us both.

That was another question none of us had an answer to. Gavin, looking like a younger version of his dad, sat quietly, tapping his fingers in a rhythmic pattern against his knee. I knew he was listening to every word, processing every idea, and I also knew his priority had become trying to figure out exactly why Orphie had been targeted.

I slept fitfully, my mind spinning around the different threads that had been tangling up every part of my life, and the lives of those around me. I was no closer to figuring out what had really happened to Beaulieu and Orphie, and that, more than anything, made me feel as if I were wearing a bonnet full of bees.

But morning was here. The sun shone through the slats of the blinds in my bedroom. A blanket of warmth, not uncomfortable from the early heat of the day, but cozy, eased around me like a layer of wool batting. I blinked away the foggy remnants of sleep, sitting up and rubbing my hands over my face. Today was the day. Tessa Cassidy and Hoss McClaine’s wedding day.

“If Mama shows up,” I said to myself.

I’d finished the last of the beading late into the night and dropped off Mama’s wedding dress around midnight. She hadn’t wanted me to come inside. “It’s late, ladybug. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It was as good a promise as she could give that she’d show up at the church, so I’d left with a warning. “Will is picking you up at one o’clock, Mama. You best be ready to get hitched. Hoss’ll be waiting.” I had to have faith that she’d do what was good for her. Or at least what I was convinced was good for her.

Orphie had slept in the guest room, but now she was back on the settee, reclining, while Nana and I spent the next three hours over at Seven Gables helping Raylene and Hattie set up the backyard. They’d put up two tents the day before, had had the tables and chairs delivered, and had set up twinkling lights and ornamental branches to decorate the space. “Those models talk too much,” Raylene said, stifling a yawn. “All night long. I thought they’d come to blows a few times.”

“Quinton finally got them to simmer down.”

“How’d he manage that?” I asked, grateful to not worry about Mama for a few minutes.

“That camera of his. He started taking pictures of them. They had this competition going of strikin’ different kinds of poses, or somethin’ like that. Seemed pretty silly to me, but those girls ate it up. Made ’em a little teary-eyed.”

“Why?”

“Said it made ’em think of the guy that died. He always posed them in certain ways, and it brought up memories for ’em, or somethin’.” Raylene shrugged. “I don’t get it, really. Seventeen-year-old girls trying to look like they’re all worldly. Don’t they realize they’ll grow up soon enough?”

“They’re losing their childhoods,” Hattie chimed in. “It’s a shame.”

We worked in silence for a few minutes, blowing up helium balloons using the tank we’d rented, and tying the blue and silver metallic ovals to silver foil-wrapped baggies filled with sand.

“Do you think she’ll show?” Nana asked as we placed the last of the balloons around the head tables.

“I gave Will permission to drag her there if he needs to.”

“Which he won’t do, honey.”

“Probably not, but I told her yesterday that he’d do it, so maybe the threat will be enough.”

She frowned, clearly not convinced. I felt the same way.

“We’re all set,” Raylene said, standing back to take in the backyard. It had been transformed. Misters and several enormous fans were situated around the perimeter of the tents to keep the area cool. The weather was supposed to cooperate and be a comfortable, if warm, eighty-two degrees, but things could change on a dime in Texas. If the wedding happened, we were prepared. And if it didn’t, well, we could drown our sorrows in the misty tents.

I headed back home. Orphie was ready for the wedding, but dozing on the settee. I tiptoed to the workroom. Will was stopping by before he went to pick up Mama, and Midori would be here any minute with my maid of honor dress. Which meant I had a few minutes to puzzle things out. From the back window, I could see that Thelma Louise, grand dam of Nana’s goat herd, had her chin resting on the fence that spanned between my grandparents’ property and mine. The goats seemed to be present whenever I needed to think seriously about things. I’d come to believe they were a good-luck sign.

“I’m counting on you, Thelma Louise,” I said softly. I turned, nearly bumping into Will with a
whomp!

He caught me by the arms, keeping me upright.

“You’re as quiet as a ghost,” I said.

“As quiet as Loretta Mae?”

I laughed. It was so nice to be able to talk to him about Meemaw. It was like having the weight of all the Cassidy family secrets lifted from my shoulders. I had nothing to hide from him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I paused, my hand cupped under my chin. “Just thinking.”

“About?” he prompted.

I didn’t have a definitive answer for that. “I’m not quite sure,” I said, my gaze traveling around the workroom. “There’s something—”

My words froze in thin air as my gaze landed on the designers’ garment bags and Midori’s dresses, which hung from hooks on the wall by the French doors. Esmeralda’s and Barbi’s words about the hems being uneven and heavy came back to me. Hearing them talk about it when I’d first caught them trying on the clothes had stuck with me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why. The fact was, not every designer was also a capable seamstress. But Midori was the whole package. She was as well rounded as they came, excelling at all aspects of fashion, from draping and tailoring to project management and business savvy. It wasn’t easy to build a successful business, but she’d done it, and she’d done it well.

“Shut the doors, please, Will,” I said over my shoulder, stepping back to get a full view of the dresses.

Once the French doors were closed, Will came to my side, eyeing the dresses, a heavy frown on his face. “What do we see here?” he asked.

I stood back, taking in every aspect from head to foot. “We see beautiful dresses.”

“Yeah, I’d agree with that. So why are we staring at them?”

My focus had trailed from the bodices with their buttons and frog closures to the hemlines. I tapped one of my hands against my thigh, thinking. If one of them had said something about the fit, I could have dismissed it. Two? That could still be chalked up to coincidence. But three . . . and four? That meant something else altogether. That meant there really was something wrong with the hems.

Nothing that I could see with the naked eye, however.

Something Lindy had said rose to the top of my consciousness, kind of like cream floating on top of a cup of cocoa. “Midori uses the same models all the time.”

Will leaned back against the table, arms folded over his chest. “I thought the other guy did, too.”

“Right, but Lindy mentioned something. I hadn’t paid any mind to it, but it’s interesting.”

“What?”

“Zoe and Madison.”

“Cassidy, you’re going to have to spell it out ’cause I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“They’re old.”

He stared at me as if goat antlers had sprung from my head. “What are they, in their late twenties? Early thirties? I have shirts older than that.”