Pinned for Murder (25 page)

“Just like Robin Hood,” Tori whispered.

Chapter 23

Try as she might, it was getting harder and harder to keep smiling. Even with the ever-growing pile of fleece scarves and hats on the coffee table.

Sure, she was appreciative of her friends’ efforts, their contributions bringing her closer and closer to reaching her mental goal of sixty scarf and hat sets for the women’s shelter.

But still, she just wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat and small-town gossip.

“I like that shade of pink, it’s very soothing,” Beatrice said from her spot across Dixie’s empty living room. “It reminds me of a glass of pink lemonade on a quiet summer day.”

Tori mustered a smile for the girl who, like her, had opted out of the dessert stampede in favor of completing their current task—Beatrice’s shirt for Luke, and Tori’s yet another hat and scarf. “Thanks. I like that shirt, too. Luke is going to love it.”

“Do you really think so?” Beatrice asked, her cheeks taking on a pinkish hue. “Green is his favorite color. And he likes race cars so much I wanted to make it look like the sort of shirt a race car driver might wear.”

“And you’re succeeding. He’s going to love it.” Setting the fleece on her lap, she leaned her head against the sofa and kneaded her temples. “I’ve had this headache all evening and nothing I do seems to shake it.”

“Maybe eating something would help?”

“I wish it were that simple,” she mumbled, only to pull her head upright as her words traveled around to her ears. “Beatrice, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a downer, I’m really not. Your suggestion about food is a good idea. I’ll take a peek in the dining room once everyone is back and settled . . . maybe there will be something with a little less sugar.”

“No need to apologize. I know you’re worried about Rose.”

“I didn’t realize you—” She stopped, her own face growing warm.

“What? That I actually pay attention while I’m a wall-flower?”

Her mouth gaped open.

Beatrice shrugged. “Well, I do. And I learn a lot that way—how things are done here, who is and isn’t good friend material, where all the”—a giggle erupted over top of her words—“cute men are.”

Tori laughed, too. “Take whatever Leona says with a grain of salt.”

“I do.”

“I didn’t mean to belittle the way you are.”

“I know. It didn’t take a lot of cowering and sewing to realize you’re the kind of person everyone wants for a friend.” Carefully, Beatrice pushed her needle through the green fabric, attaching a NASCAR patch to the right breast pocket of Luke’s shirt. “But it also hasn’t taken a lot of listening and watching to know you’re struggling with the whole Kenny thing—and yes, I know it’s Kenny Murdock.”

She had to smile. “I am. And thanks. It’s been a long day.”

“What happened?”

For a moment, she considered changing the subject, but in the end, she seized the opportunity to express her pent-up frustration aloud. “I thought I had it figured out, I really did. And it all fit so perfectly. But I was wrong.”

Seeming to understand her need to talk, Beatrice simply nodded and waited for Tori to continue.

“I wasn’t wrong entirely. I was right on who stole Martha Jane’s money . . . he even admitted it when Margaret Louise and I confronted him. But what we weren’t counting on was the fact that his actions were independent of the person who actually killed her.”

“Independent?

Tori nodded. “He stole the money all right. He even stepped over Martha Jane’s body to get it. He just wasn’t the one who actually killed her.”

Beatrice sucked in a breath, her eyes large and rounded. “How awful. How utterly awful.”

“It is. But what’s even more awful is the fact that it makes Kenny an even more likely suspect.” She let her head drop forward as she looked down at the fleece once again, her drive to create a scarf dissipating rapidly. “After today, the one thing that didn’t add up isn’t an issue any longer. Which means money is no longer a viable motive.”

“Leaving rage as the most likely choice?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’m sorry, Victoria.” Looking up from her charge’s shirt, she eyed her closely. “How’s Rose taking it?”

Like clockwork, her head began to pound still harder, the realization that she’d gotten her friend’s hopes up for nothing heaping stress on top of stress. “She didn’t know about Curtis. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want to get her hopes up.”

“Curtis?” Beatrice whispered.

Tori nodded.

“Does Leona know?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no. If she ever shows up tonight, I’m sure her sister will tell her.”

“Wow.” Beatrice looked back down at the shirt only to glance up once again. “But if you didn’t tell Rose about your suspicions, how could she have gotten her hopes up?”

“Because I clued her in to my radar where the whole stolen money thing was concerned. And now she’s out there, in Dixie’s dining room, thinking I’m going to dig something up—something that will tell her everything is going to be okay . . . that Kenny is no longer a suspect in her neighbor’s murder.”

“Does everyone else know?”

“I think so. But Margaret Louise tried to pull most of them aside when she first got here for the sole purpose of keeping talk of Curtis to a minimum. At least until we have a chance to tell Rose.”

“Why didn’t you tell her when it first happened?”

Good question.

“I guess because I was so happy to hear she was coming tonight that I didn’t have the heart to tell her something that might propel her back into her reclusive state.”

A swell of voices in the hallway rose up, sending Beatrice back to her shell with nary more than an apologetic shrug.

“Would you believe he had the nerve to call me . . . from a jail cell of all places? To ask if I’d help him?” Leona swirled into the room, a sparkling gold clutch in one hand, the latest travel magazine in the other. “That’s why I’m late. I had to dispose of the suit he bought me.”

“You threw away that suit?” Margaret Louise asked, dumbfounded. “Why?”

Tori sat upright, her hands beginning to sweat. “Ladies . . . now is not the time to discuss this, remember?”

As if she hadn’t spoken a word, Leona took center stage and addressed her twin’s question. “I threw it away because I thought he’d spent his hard-earned money on me . . . not money he simply snatched from a drawer like a common criminal.” Claiming a seat that had been previously occupied by Georgina, Leona sat down, crossing her shapely legs with a disgusted huff. “Can you imagine? Spending tainted money on
me
?”

“He was in love, what can we say?”

Leona shot a nasty look in her sister’s direction. “Well of course, that goes without saying . . . but, really? Aren’t I worth the blood, sweat, and tears?”

“What’s going on in here?” Rose asked as she shuffled into the room carrying a piece of chess pie on a plate. “I came back from the bathroom and you were all gone.” The elderly woman looked around the room, her gaze coming to rest on the newly arrived Leona. “Oh. You came.”

Leona made a face. “I
am
a member of the sewing circle.”

“How, I have no idea. You don’t sew,” Rose spat out as she made her way over to the vacant spot beside Tori. “But that’s neither here nor there. So what was all that ruckus about just now? What did I miss?”

Debbie cast a worried look in Tori’s direction, followed by one from each of the other members as well.

“Vic-toriaaa, what is going on?”

She swallowed.

“Victoria, I’m speaking to you.”

She closed her eyes.

“What happened with Kenny?”

The direct hit made her eyes and her mouth fly open.

The elderly woman’s gaze grew cloudy. “You think I can’t tell it’s something important? Something I probably don’t want to hear? Just tell me.”

And so she did, her mouth filling in all the details her heart hated to share—the moment the suspicion about Curtis took hold, the way she and Margaret Louise had tag-teamed him with questions, and, finally, the absolute certainty they had that he was, indeed, telling the truth.

Rose listened quietly, the slight bob to her head the only real indication that she was following along. When Tori finished, she simply gathered her flag-making paraphernalia and stood. “So it’s even more likely than ever that Kenny was behind Martha Jane’s murder, is that right?”

Tori looked down at her lap.

“That’s not Victoria’s fault, Rose,” Georgina interjected. “She was only trying to help.”

“I know that,” said Rose with a voice that was strained and tired. “I just hate to think that the little boy I taught to read . . . the teenager I cheered on from the sidelines . . . the young adult I supported emotionally after the death of his parents . . . could carry so much rage, so much disregard for another human being’s life as Kenny did.”

She glanced up through misty eyes, Rose’s wooden acceptance of Kenny’s culpability even worse than her denial had been.

“Rose, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know. And so am I.” Rose took two steps toward the hallway and then stopped, turning back to the circle members with pain in her eyes. “If you don’t hear from me for a few days, please don’t send out the search party. I’m fine. I’m simply working on a flag for Ellie’s shop.”

“A flag? Why?” Debbie asked.

“Because she sold the last one.” Dixie stood. “I’ll show Rose out.”

As the two women disappeared into the hallway, Tori released a sigh that echoed around the room. “I feel awful.”

Georgina stood and crossed the room to the spot Rose had vacated, a navy blue scarf in her hand. “I know it’s hard to see a friend hurting in the way Rose is. But I want you to know that you did the right thing. It wouldn’t have been right to let Kenny take on charges he wasn’t responsible for. Murder is enough. He didn’t need robbery, too.”

She considered the mayor’s words. “I just wish he’d been the one who’d committed the robbery instead of the murder.”

“We all do, Victoria,” Margaret Louise said around a mouthful of something powdery. “But the truth is the truth.”

“Has anyone been in touch with Martha Jane’s sister? What’s going on with all of her things?” Debbie asked.

Georgina cast one final look at Tori before swiveling to address the rest of the circle. “We have. She’s in a nursing home and can’t make the trip out to get everything in order. She asked if we could find someone—someone trustworthy—to go through and inventory all of her sister’s belongings before the moving crew comes in.”

Heads turned as everyone looked at everyone else.

“Is anyone interested?” Georgina asked, her gaze moving around the room before coming to rest, once again, on Tori.

She shook her head.

“I can’t. I have too much to do right now with the donation for the shelter.”

Debbie pointed at the pile. “Looks to me like you’re close to meeting your promise. Just tell us how many more you need and we’ll get it done.”

“I—”

“It might be good for you. I think this whole business with Rose and Kenny has affected you.” Georgina took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle pat. “Maybe seeing Martha Jane’s home and her things will make you feel less guilty about Kenny. He murdered an elderly woman, Victoria. He needs to pay for his crime.”

Georgina was right. Like it or not, Kenny Murdock had killed an elderly woman out of anger. No amount of digging her head in the sand and wishing it wasn’t so could change that.

“Could I ask Rose to help?”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Debbie asked, her brows furrowed. “I mean, wouldn’t that be like adding salt to the wound?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But maybe it would do for her what Georgina is hoping it does for me.”

“It’s worth a try,” Dixie said as she entered the room again.

Georgina agreed. “When can you do it?”

“Would tomorrow work?”

“Tomorrow?”

She nodded. “I have the day off anyway, so I have the time. And besides, if it proves to be more difficult than either of us imagine, I’ll have something to look forward to that night.”

“Look forward to?” Margaret Louise asked as she cocked her eyebrow in blatant curiosity.

Again, she nodded. “Milo is making dinner.”

Leona smiled wickedly as she uncrossed and then recrossed her legs. “You’ve been paying attention, dear.”

She looked a question at her friend.

“Letting a man wait on you hand and foot—it’s a lesson I tend to teach by action rather than words.” The woman removed a speck of lint from her skirt as she peered at Tori atop her stylish glasses. “It pleases me to no end to know you’ve been paying attention so well.”

“Leona, I’m not trying to get Milo to wait on me hand and foot.”

The woman waved her off. “There’s no need to thank me, dear.”

Chapter 24