People were starting to take their seats, and Beatrice wanted to finish her questions while Gwen was still somewhat off-kilter—before she had the opportunity to build up her walls and defenses after the meeting. Beatrice asked quickly, “Was Vivian connected to your recent trip to Lenoir?”

  This time Beatrice got a reaction. Gwen’s face lost all its color and she swung her head back around violently to stare at Beatrice. She stuttered, “How do you know I was in Lenoir?”

  “It was easy. I saw proof of your visit on social media while I was busy setting up accounts for the quilters,” said Beatrice. “There’s no point denying that you were there.”

  Gwen appeared to be trying to regain her composure. “Well, of course I was there. I go up there all the time to see an old friend of mine who used to live here in Dappled Hills.”

  At that moment, Meadow broke away from Georgia and caught what Gwen was saying. “Really? Who?”

  Gwen blinked rapidly. “Excuse me?”

  Meadow’s already-loud voice got even louder. “I said who? Who do you visit? Or whom, I guess. Whatever.”

  Gwen’s face was furious. “No one you’d know,” she said, scornfully.

  “Oh, I’d seriously doubt that,” said Meadow, putting her hands on her hips.

  Beatrice broke in, “You were in Lenoir seeing Samantha Holland. Did she ask you to come? Did she have something on her mind?”

  “Or,” said Meadow sweetly, “did you visit another Dappled Hills resident? I’d dearly like to follow up with any of the older souls that I used to know here, so I will pester you unrelentingly for his or her name and phone number until you produce it.”

  Meadow was, of course, completely serious. That’s exactly what she would do and Gwen knew it. Gwen’s lips tightened into an angry line. Maybe Gwen could have gotten away with telling Beatrice that the person she was visiting in Lenoir was no one that Beatrice would know. But she certainly couldn’t tell Meadow that. Meadow, if anything, knew even more people than Gwen did. And Meadow would also know if the name Gwen gave was a friend at all to Gwen.

  Gwen hissed, “All right. I did see Sam Holland. Is that a crime? I see her from time to time.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” asked Meadow innocently.

  “Not as recently as it should have been,” growled Gwen.

  Beatrice said, “She called you and asked for a visit? Or you just up and decided to go?”

  “I up and decided to go. End of story,” said Gwen.

  “Sam Holland died soon after that. And then her son came to town and visited you and was killed soon after that,” recited Beatrice.

  Gwen said angrily, “I had nothing to do with any of that! It has nothing to do with me.”

  Beatrice said, “What did Samantha Holland tell you, Gwen? It sounds as if she knew she was at the end of her life. Perhaps she had a guilty conscience.”

  Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “Sam Holland was a good woman. She had nothing to feel guilty about.”

  So intense was this conversation that Beatrice was startled by the appearance of the wizened Miss Sissy, who stuck her face in the middle of their huddle and furiously said to Gwen, “You! What did you do?”

  Meadow must have brought Miss Sissy with her to the meeting. Beatrice felt a mixture of guilt that she’d forgotten to follow-up on bringing the old woman to the service project meeting along with delight at Gwen’s shocked reaction and immediate reactive silence. Wyatt was asking everyone to join him in starting the meeting in prayer. Gwen had really been saved by the bell.

  After Wyatt’s prayer, Miss Sissy was completely placid again. Then followed a period so soothing that Beatrice felt all the accumulated tension leave her neck and shoulders. Wyatt’s devotion on daily pressures and scriptural relief seemed especially targeted for Beatrice. The women worked steadily on quilting the 12” square preemie quilts. Both the work and the words had a very relaxing effect on Beatrice. She hadn’t realized how stressed she had been until some of that stress was relieved.

  At the end of the meeting, as Beatrice was packing up her notions and other supplies, she turned to speak to Gwen once more. But she found that Gwen had already slipped away. Clearly, she hadn’t wanted to chat anymore with Beatrice. Beatrice wondered if she’d be at the next meeting or whether she’d find a convenient excuse to miss that one or, perhaps, all of the other meetings and just complete her quilt at home.

  Meadow came up to Beatrice. “So the bird has flown the coop,” she said, pursing her lips.

  “Is that private eye talk?” asked Beatrice with a grin.

  “Who knows? I don’t read private eye books,” said Meadow, laughing. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back. I need to take Miss Sissy back anyway. That way you don’t have to schlep your stuff back home in the dark.”

  “I did bring a flashlight,” murmured Beatrice, but she allowed herself to be led away by Meadow.

  “Bye, Wyatt,” hollered Meadow and he gave them a wave and smile since he was surrounded by quilters wanting to talk with him for a few moments.

  As they walked out to Meadow’s van, Beatrice asked Miss Sissy, “When you were talking to Gwen earlier, she was really startled by what you said to her.”

  Miss Sissy gave Beatrice a surprised expression of her own.

  “Don’t you remember?” pressed Beatrice. “You said that Gwen did something. What were you referring to?”

  Miss Sissy glowered, remembering now. “Mean to that girl. That dead girl.”

  Beatrice assumed she meant Vivian, since Ida could certainly not be considered a girl in any way. “Mean? How was she mean?”

  “Threatening!” Here Miss Sissy demonstrated the concept of threatening, in case Beatrice couldn’t visualize it. She mimed someone rearing back with a snarl from an oncoming threat. In the process, she managed to resemble an overacting silent film star.

  “Anything specific?” asked Beatrice.

  “Yes, come on Miss Sissy,” cajoled Meadow. “You can do better than that. Reach back in your memory. Gwen was angry with Vivian. What did she say to her?”

  “Said she’d kill her! Kill her if she didn’t stay away from him!” Miss Sissy nodded her head emphatically and the hair in her bun fell out completely, swirling around her shoulders in the brisk breeze like a witch.

  Meadow and Beatrice exchanged glances as they got into the van. “I guess him is her husband. That doesn’t sound very good. We should tell Ramsay that.” Meadow said in a louder voice now that the engine was running and Miss Sissy was in the back of the van, looking at the old woman in the rearview mirror. “You should have told Ramsay that when he was asking you questions, Miss Sissy!”

  Miss Sissy responded by shaking an arthritic fist at her driver. She muttered again, “She said she would kill her! Stay away from him!” Miss Sissy’s anger then seemed to fizzle out and she slumped in exhaustion in the backseat.

  Meadow pulled into Beatrice’s driveway and said, “First stop!”

  Beatrice said in a low voice, “Do you think you can handle Miss Sissy on your own? She seems sort of ... spent.” They both turned to see Miss Sissy who appeared to be falling asleep now.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, I’ve got it handled. I have chocolate in my purse. It’s easy to lure Miss Sissy with chocolate, you know. You look about that tired, yourself, Beatrice,” said Meadow, giving her a concerned frown. “Why don’t you go inside and get ready to turn in?”

  “I may just do that,” said Beatrice. She did feel very worn out and in need of some sleep. “Or maybe I’ll quilt for a little while and then try to sleep.”

  Meadow said, “The quilt will wait! Get some sleep!” And with that proclamation, she hit reverse and shot back out of Beatrice’s driveway.

  Noo-noo was happy to see her and she spent a few minutes on the floor giving the little corgi some love. Then Noo-noo got a determined look on her face, a look that Beatrice recognized all too well as the dog scampered off to locate a tired, worn lovey that was still somewhat in the shape of a chicken. Beatrice obediently threw the chicken doll across the room for Noo-noo a few times before letting her out once more. She decided to take Meadow’s advice and turn in early. Before she headed to the back, though, she took out her phone and read another of Vivian’s entries. This was the last one she’d written.

  July 31st.

  This is going to sound completely paranoid, but I feel very uneasy about my safety. Mittens, let’s be honest, is a sweet cat but she’s not much protection. Maybe it’s the dislike from some of the residents, maybe it’s just some of my interactions, but I can’t help but feel like I’m in danger.

  I’ve got to shake it off. Tonight I’m going to really try and relax. I’m going to put all my worries out of my head. I’m going to watch junk on television while eating ice cream. There’s no way I could feel anything but better after that.

  Feeling somber, Beatrice now was completely exhausted. She headed back into her bedroom, got ready for bed, and climbed gratefully into the soft bed that was piled high with quilts and down-filled pillows.

  Beatrice was jolted awake by Noo-noo’s sharp, urgent barking around midnight. Beatrice flung off the covers, grabbed her robe, and stuck her feet into a pair of slippers, rushing out to see what was the matter. The corgi, still barking frantically, looked relieved at seeing Beatrice, but continued to bark, pointing herself at the back door.

  Beatrice hurried up to the door and warily looked out the window. At the sight of orange and red flames rising up and billowing black smoke, her heart started pounding in her chest.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She grabbed the dog along with her leash and harness, lifting the corgi with some difficulty, and stumbled out the back door and around the side of the house to the front.

  Her horror turned into relief as Ramsay swung into the driveway in his police cruiser. He didn’t even close the driver’s door as he jumped out of the car and sprinted toward Beatrice a lot faster than she’d thought he could move. “I need the fire department here,” he yelled into his two-way radio.

  “Beatrice, you okay? Good—get back. Way back.” He grabbed the garden hose from the side of the house and sprayed the flames. Beatrice heard sirens approaching as she carefully put Noo-noo into her harness and leash.

  As soon as the firefighters started attacking the fire, they dispensed with it quickly. Ramsay sat with Beatrice and Noo-noo in his police cruiser. He was completely winded, gasping from the running, worry, and smoke and seemed absolutely exhausted.

  While he worked to catch his breath, Beatrice said, “I’m sorry you were working so late, but I am so glad you happened by. Noo-noo and I thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”

  He smiled a tired smile at her and seemed now to have enough breath to talk. “No thanks are needed. I was so glad to help. But what I’m more curious about is the why. This fire was no accident.”

  “I had a feeling it wasn’t,” said Beatrice softly. “The porch would be an odd place for an accidental fire to start. There isn’t any wiring under there.”

  “Exactly. What’s more, I smelled gasoline when I was up there spraying the flames. I’m pretty sure that you didn’t pour gasoline on your front porch and set it alight, so that tells me that it was arson. What’s more, this is a felony because it was an occupied building.”

  “Very occupied,” said Beatrice with a shiver. “If it hadn’t been for Noo-noo’s barking, who knows? I might not have made it out. I was so tired from the day that I might have slept right up until a dangerous point ... or even past it. So you and Noo-noo are my heroes.”

  Ramsay waved aside her accolades, still thinking it through. “Avoiding loss of life is the most important thing, of course, but I don’t even think you’re going to have extensive damage to replace. Well, there’ll be a bit of water damage, but the fire is already extinguished. Still—it’s going to be a pain getting the repairs made. Let’s move on to who might have done this. Is somebody out to get you? Furious with you?” Ramsay’s face, always so kind, was even kinder and more concerned than she thought she’d ever seen it.

  Beatrice just kept rubbing Noo-noo’s soft fur lovingly as she said, “No, this wasn’t fury. This, I think, was a warning.” She explained to Ramsay what she’d found out so far, catching him up on Huey’s flip-flopping on details and Gwen’s trip to Lenoir at a critical time.

  Ramsay listened, very serious. “Someone must think you’re getting close to the truth. No one, I notice, is setting my house on fire.”

  “But investigating is your job. And that’s not what people do in this country—intimidate the police. Not most of the time, anyway,” said Beatrice.

  “Or maybe they’re simply feeling secure that I’m not particularly close to wrapping up this case,” said Ramsay wryly. “Maybe I’m not asking the right questions, like you are.”

  “Whoever did this, they were just trying to scare me. I don’t think they were trying to kill me,” said Beatrice. There was, she noticed, a note in her voice that sounded as if she sought reassurance from Ramsay on this point.

  “They didn’t do a good job, if that was their goal. But it’s still serious. Who do you think, if warning you off was their focus, wanted you scared off the most?” asked Ramsay.

  Beatrice’s mind immediately flew to Huey and his visit the day before. He had certainly been very deliberate. Would he have set her house on fire, though? She said, reluctantly, “Well, Huey came out here to personally warn me against stirring things up. Although I can’t somehow see him doing something like this.”

  Ramsay sighed. “I’ll make sure to question our top suspects. I know I should warn you against being involved and point out the danger, but you’re smart enough to have already figured this out. So I’ll just arrange for some overnight backup for you. Want Boris to spend the night?”

  That didn’t sound like much of a reward for the heroic Noo-noo. “No, that’s all right. Noo-noo was able to get the job done.” Noo-noo laid her head against Beatrice’s leg, hearing her name.

  “All right, then I’m calling Piper,” said Ramsay resolutely.

  Beatrice winced. “Getting a call from you in the middle of the night will scare her to death.”

  “I’ll get right to the point and won’t scare her a bit,” said Ramsay as he dialed the number.

  Piper came immediately over, carrying a small overnight bag. By the time she’d gotten there, the firefighters were finishing up. Beatrice thanked Ramsay and the firemen profusely and followed Piper inside.

  Piper looked intently at her mother. “You’re okay? Really okay?”

  “Really okay. It scared the life out of me when I saw the flames, but when Ramsay and the firetruck got here so quickly it really helped me to calm down,” said Beatrice. “Noo-noo was amazing and woke me right up with her barking.”

  “Thank goodness for that!” said Piper fervently, reaching down to hug the corgi who licked her nose when Piper got close. “Are they ...well, are they thinking it was some sort of weird electrical fire? Did they have an idea what might have caused it?”

  Beatrice sighed. This was the part she wasn’t looking forward to. “I’ll tell you all about it. Can we have some wine while we talk? Luckily, there doesn’t seem to be any water damage inside—I guess that massive door and the stone exterior really helped.”

  Piper opened a bottle of wine and they sat down in the living room. Beatrice, a little chilly from stress, pulled a blanket over herself. “Now talk,” ordered Piper.

  Beatrice gave Piper as much of a watered-down and boring version of events as she possibly could. It still apparently sounded alarming though, as was evident by Piper’s wide eyes and exclamations throughout the story.

  “Mama, you must stop investigating these deaths!” said Piper after Beatrice had finished.

  Beatrice gave her a helpless look. “I’m not really investigating. It’s more a matter of asking pertinent questions.”

  “Whatever you want to call it ... can you just stop it?” asked Piper.

  Beatrice said, “I’m not trying to worry you, sweetheart. But you have to understand that I can’t make that promise.” She hesitated as Piper slumped a little in her chair and then said, “How about if I promise you that Meadow and I will be joined at the hip when it comes to asking any questions?”

  Piper sighed and said sadly, “I think that might be the best I can hope for.” She finally gave her mother a smile. “Besides, it will amuse me to see you and Meadow joined at the hip.”

  They laughed and Piper added, “I think that you must be trying to make Dappled Hills more lively. Although I don’t think this is the right way to go about making sure that your life here is as exciting as it was when you lived in Atlanta.”

  Beatrice reached out and held Piper’s hands in her own. She said sincerely, “I love Dappled Hills. I don’t want life to be like it was in Atlanta. I love the change of pace and I love being near you. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Now Piper’s eyes grew misty and she nodded.

  Beatrice continued briskly, “Now, enough about me. Tell me how things are going with you. How is protecting your free time going?”

  Piper said, “It’s a work in progress. But the best part is that I’m trying to be more intentional with what I take on. And I’m trying to be more intentional about my free time. I’m so busy, it’s almost like I have to plan my free time the same way I plan the rest of my day. So I’ve brainstormed a list of books I want to read, a list of movies I want to watch online, and even make a note of what days I want to take a walk and get a little exercise.”

  “That sounds like a very smart idea,” said Beatrice. She wondered if something like that might help her curb her own sense of restlessness a little bit.

  “It’s been very helpful the last couple of days. Before, it was almost like I felt drained after my free time because I spent the time just aimlessly checking social media or my email or randomly watching whatever was on television,” said Piper.

  Beatrice said, “Has it helped you at all with finding time to spend with Ash and developing your relationship?”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22