Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 08 - Remnants of Murder (7 page)

“Wait. You lost me. Why is Chief Dallas weighing in on anything where Dixie is concerned?”

The bell over the bakery’s front door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer and the end to Debbie’s ability to talk. Slipping off her stool, Debbie made her way toward the glass counter and the dozen or so homemade treats chosen to greet the day’s patrons.

“Georgina, welcome.”

At the sound of their fellow sewing sister’s name, Tori looked toward the door and the statuesque woman sporting a straw hat atop a full head of dark hair. Behind the mayor came three more customers—folks Tori knew by sight but not by name and who were certain to keep Debbie busy for the next ten minutes or so.

Ever mindful of her position in the town, Georgina stepped to the side to allow the other customers to go first while simultaneously canvassing the dining area. When she spotted Tori, she approached the stool left vacant by Debbie’s departure and smiled broadly. “Victoria! What a pleasant surprise. How are you?”

“Tired.”

In an instant, Georgina’s smile was gone, in its place a grimmer set to her generous mouth. “Is something wrong?”

She let her shoulders rise and fall in a noncommittal response. Telling Debbie she thought Dixie was attention-starved was bad enough. Repeating the same sentiment to a woman who’d known the former librarian her whole life would be inappropriate and unfair. Instead, she settled on the most basic response she could find. “Did you hear about Dixie’s first Home Fare client, Clyde Montgomery?”

Georgina’s head bobbed beneath the brim of her hat. “From Robert when it first happened, and then from virtually every business owner in town today. Why?”

“Every business owner in town?” she repeated.

Again, Georgina nodded. “Robert’s sharing of the news was done as a matter of course. When someone passes in our town, he lets me know.”

“Go on …”

“The rest was more of the backyard fence variety with a little bit of celebration thrown in.”

“Wait.” She permitted herself a brief moment to revisit the mayor’s words, equally surprised the second time as she’d been the first. “People were celebrating the man’s death?”

Georgina reached across the table, broke a corner off Tori’s brownie, and then popped it in her mouth. “I don’t mean the kind of celebrating you might see at a party, Victoria. There weren’t balloons and cake, of course. But you have to understand that many of our shop owners have been begging and pleading with Clyde to parcel off his land and sell it to any one of the resort companies who have been expressing interest in Fawn Lake for the past five years or so. But he refused.”

Instantly, she was back in the man’s sunroom, the shoots of sunlight reflecting off the surface of the picturesque lake warming her face all over again as she closed her eyes and gave in to the memory. “Oh, Georgina, the view from his sunroom is spectacular.”

“And it’s a view that wouldn’t have changed if he’d done the right thing and sold off the land to either the north or south of his home,” Georgina drawled. “Had he done that, he could have enjoyed his panoramic view the way he always had while helping his fellow residents get closer to their own.”

Her eyes flew open. “Why would it matter to anyone else what he did with his land?”

Georgina’s mouth gaped open to reveal a hint of brownie in her molars. “Are you kidding me?”

She glanced from side to side before focusing once again on the woman seated at her table. “No …”

“Victoria, you saw his property, yes?” At her nod, Georgina continued. “That’s the kind of property that attracts the major resort companies. It offers stellar lake views, uninhibited lake access, potential room for future growth, and a quaint little town within easy walking distance. In turn, when the presence of a resort turns a town like Sweet Briar into a destination, it means a significant increase in revenue for its local business owners as well as new job opportunities for its residents. A true win-win all around.”

It made sense. It really did. But Tori also knew it was merely one way of looking at things. “Sweet Briar wouldn’t be what it is now if it became a destination town.”

Georgina waved aside Tori’s words. “So we’d have a bit more traffic around the square during certain times of the year. It would certainly be workable.”

“You’d have a lot more to worry about than a slight increase in traffic.” She eyed the parts of the brownie that remained untouched and found herself breaking off the corner closest to her own chair. Leaving one of Debbie’s chocolate frosted brownies to be picked over for scraps really didn’t assuage her feelings of guilt where Dixie was concerned. So why let it go to waste? “You’d have more accidents—both on and off the lake, you’d have more crime, you’d have occasional lawsuit-happy tourists to contend with in court, and you’d lose the quiet, close-knit feel that makes Sweet Briar what it is now. And Mr. Montgomery? His view would’ve never been the same again.”

“How do you figure that?” Georgina challenged.

She paused, the final bite of brownie mere inches from her lips as, once again, her thoughts returned to the breathtaking view she’d seen earlier. “Have you ever seen the lake from Mr. Montgomery’s home, Georgina? Seen it from the sunroom that runs along the back side of his house?”

“I’ve seen it a time or two when I’ve accompanied council members to his home to ask him to consider parceling his land. In fact, I was out there no more than six weeks ago with an offer I still can’t believe he turned down. And rather rudely, if I might add.”

“It’s …” She cast about for the best way to articulate the feeling she’d had while staring out at the lake, the same feeling Clyde Montgomery had obviously felt if the look of absolute contentment he wore in the framed photograph was any indication. “It’s calming and peaceful. Like you’re tucked away from the rest of the world in a place where nothing bad could ever happen.”

For a moment, she considered recalling the last sentence, its sentiment rather dramatic in hindsight, but she let it go. Maybe the words had been overly heavy, but the underlying meaning was spot-on.

“Selling land to the north wouldn’t have changed that. Not with the way his house was orientated to the shoreline.”

She laughed then instantly regretted it when Georgina’s eyebrow rose in response. “Georgina, a resort would have brought a marina and rented boats. There would be a swimming area, too, and evening parties on the sand. All of those things would have changed the landscape and feeling of the lake.”

“A lake that only Clyde was able to enjoy.”

“And why was that anyway?” Tori asked. “I mean, if the council and the business owners really thought a resort on Fawn Lake would have helped everyone so much, why didn’t you open up the land around the public access point?”

“Because the public access point is hazardous at best. And the land on either side of it is protected wetlands.” Georgina ran her hand through her shoulder-length bob and then repositioned her wide-brimmed hat atop her head. “Until yesterday, Clyde held all the usable cards and he had no intention of dealing anyone else into the game. It didn’t matter one iota how nicely we asked, or how many times Councilman Haggarty and Councilman Adams sat in that man’s precious sunroom and pled the town’s case. It didn’t matter how many blasted pies Betty Adams sent along with her husband in the hopes of sweetening their chances. Clyde Montgomery cared about one person and one person only. Himself.”

Tori opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it as the theme song from
The Andy Griffith Show
made its way out of Georgina’s purse.

The mayor’s face paled. “Oh no … It’s past six, isn’t it?” Digging her hand into her purse, Georgina extracted her cell phone from its depths and held it to her ear, struggling to her feet as she did. “I’m on my way. Don’t let them start the meeting without me.”

And then, just like that, Georgina Hayes was gone, the only remnant of her presence a few scattered brownie crumbs and the lingering scent of her favorite perfume.

“Doesn’t that figure?” Debbie reappeared beside Tori’s table, shaking her head in mock disgust as she did. “I finally get through that little rush of customers and Georgina takes off.”

“I think she had a meeting or something,” Tori mumbled around the roar of her thoughts and the memory of Georgina’s words.

“Still worried about Dixie trying to prove her worth?”

Until yesterday, Clyde held all the usable cards and he had no intention of dealing anyone else into the game.

Tori sat up tall.

Until yesterday—

“Victoria? Are you okay?”

When Dixie found Clyde’s body …

Chapter 7

Tori looked up from the mountain of medical books
she’d stacked on the table and took note of the time.

Eight fifteen.

Had she simply told Dixie she needed the camera until the morning, she’d be fine right now. Instead, because of her lapse in judgment, she’d promised the woman she’d share her reason for the request within the hour—a feat that was quickly proving itself impossible.

Likewise, had she been able to find what she was looking for in the pages of a mystery novel or inside the cover of a beloved children’s book, Tori would be in great shape at the moment. In fact, she’d probably have had the answer she was seeking without having to return to the library as dusk settled over Sweet Briar.

Unfortunately, tales of mischievous teddy bears and the rhyming antics of a rather large cat weren’t really conducive for trying to pinpoint possible reasons a seemingly healthy man could deteriorate so rapidly in less than six weeks.

No, that kind of information required medical books.

And a window of time without Dixie’s prying eyes and endless questions.

Focusing once again on the display screen of Dixie’s camera, Tori zoomed in for a closer look of the man whose inner peace seemed unfazed by the fact his body had finally caught up with his birth certificate.

Skin that had seemed to fit his body like a glove in the framed picture in his home now hung from a frame that had shriveled away to almost nothing. His complexion, which had led her to believe he was twenty years his junior, was now a sickly yellow. And the man who’d stood so proudly looking out over his birthright just five weeks earlier now seemed fatigued while sitting.

It simply didn’t fit. At least not in the way age had crept up on her great-grandmother. With her great-grandmother, the aging process had been gradual. A forgotten memory here, a stumble or two there, a steady loss of energy that grew more pronounced with each passing year. Nothing that had happened overnight or in the blink of an eye the way Clyde’s had surfaced.

Setting the camera to the side, Tori reached for the leather-bound medical book and skipped to the index, her finger guiding her eyes to the full column of illnesses that claimed rapid weight loss and yellowed skin among their list of symptoms. Chronic liver disease, Wilson’s disease, sarcoidosis …

She slid her finger back to chronic liver disease and the indicated page number, only to have any page flipping thwarted by the ring of her cell phone. Despite the time crunch she found herself in, Tori couldn’t help but smile as she glanced down at the caller ID screen and the backlit name it boasted.

Margaret Louise.

Flipping the phone open, she held it to her ear. “Isn’t this a nice surprise? How are you, Margaret Louise?”

“If you don’t mind none, Victoria, I’m goin’ to put you on speaker so you can repeat what you just said loud enough for my irritatin’ sister to hear with her own two ears.” She heard the sound of a phone moving, followed by a muffled thump. “Okay, go ahead, Victoria, say it again …”

“How are you?” she repeated.

A loud groan echoed in her ear. “Not that part. The other one.”

Tori racked her brain to recall the way she’d answered the phone. “You mean the part about this being a nice surprise?”

“
See
, Leona? What did I tell you? It don’t matter if it’s mornin’ or evenin’, Victoria always welcomes my calls.”

“That’s because she doesn’t listen to me when I try to tell her how she can spice things up with that handsome fiancé of hers,” Leona drawled in the background. “Because if she
did
listen, the last thing she’d want interrupting her in the evening is a call from you, Margaret Louise.”

“Harrumph.”

Tori looked up at the ceiling and silently counted to ten in the hopes that when she did finally speak, she could do so without laughing. If she couldn’t, she risked offending one, if not both, of her friends—something she didn’t have the time to deal with at the moment. When she reached the last number, she spoke. “I always like to hear from both of you. And as for Milo, we’re not together right now.”

Margaret Louise’s gasp was quickly drowned out by Leona’s distinctive clucking. “I told you this was going to happen one day, Victoria, didn’t I? Men like their women to wear form-fitting clothes and to have their hair just so at all times.”

“Shut your piehole, would you, Twin? Victoria is hurtin’ right now.”