Iced Chiffon (32 page)

“That makes sense.”

“Of course it makes sense. After a martini everything makes sense. Relaxes the brain, lets the little gray cells breathe free and unencumbered by problems.”

KiKi finished off the second brain relaxer, and this time handed me the empty glass and keys to the Beemer, then caught a cab home. She needed to get back for a cha-cha lesson that promised to be very interesting with two martinis under her belt before noon. I wanted to tell Mamma about Dinah and find out if the running for alderman rumors were true. But instead of heading for the courthouse, I blew my last five bucks on milk and cereal and made a detour to East Macon. I parked in front of Hollis’s town house. After a week in jail, having breakfast tomorrow in his own place had to be the next best thing to paradise. I was in a good mood, and I could afford to share a little paradise, even with my ex.

I put the milk in the fridge and dumped water on the plants like Conway said, except I dumped too much too fast, with dirt spilling down the side, leaving a muddy trail. I cleaned up the mess, fluffed up the dirt to even out the top,
and noticed something sticking out where the dirt had been. It looked like the corner of one of those baggies Detective Ross used to protect Dinah’s earring and purse. I slowly tugged on the corner, the bag sliding out of the dirt. There were papers inside.

My heart kicked up a notch, and my hands shook as I brushed off the potting soil and unzipped the top. There were pictures of Sissy and Franklin coming out of the back entrance of the Hampton Inn; Raylene paying Urston; Raimondo with his blond-haired family visiting Savannah; and Baxter with a woman who was probably his ex–wife in Atlanta.

There were names, bank-account numbers, and PINs. Welcome to the twenty-first-century method of blackmail: direct deposit. No clandestine meetings, no opening suitcases and counting cash in the back alley. More important, there were no other names on the list, meaning there were no other suspects, and everyone on this list had an alibi. I’d had a few niggling doubts about Dinah doing the deed, mostly because I liked her, but this tied everything into a neat little package. Tomorrow I’d give everyone on the list his or her information. Case closed.

I felt the universe shift into place, peace settle into my bones. I had my life back, my house back, and I had a dog. What more could a girl want?

It was three when I returned to Cherry House after visiting Mamma. She was running for alderman all right, proven by the campaign button she pinned on my yellow
Savannah
shirt. I walked into the Fox, and KiKi, AnnieFritz, and Elsie threw confetti at me and blew silver noisemakers left over from New Year’s. Bruce Willis barked and ran around in circles.

“Oh, honey,” AnnieFritz gushed. “KiKi told us everything. We’ve been on the phone for the last hour spreading the word how you connected Dinah Corwin to the earring at the crime scene. Glory be, you are the berries.”

“And that I won you a boatload of cash doesn’t hurt,” I added.

“There is that,” Elsie said and snatched up her purse. “Tomorrow night we’ll have a nice supper, my treat. Right now we got to get ourselves ready for the Steller funeral. It’s going to be a whopper. Clyde Steller was president of the Oglethorpe Society for years, and then he made that hole–in–one out at the club back in 2001. Hard to tell which will bring in the most viewers.”

KiKi gave me another hug. “After the wake I’m meeting Putter out at the club. He’s taking me dancing, which means he bought another expensive golf club while in Atlanta and is feeling guilty as sin about it. I have such a good time when Putter’s got a bad case of guilt.” KiKi followed the sisters out the back door, and I went and got the broom for the confetti.

“Good news,” I said to BW as I tried to sweep up pieces of plastic confetti that stuck to everything like little magnets. “We’re not relocating.”

I finished straightening, then very quietly opened the fridge to check the dinner menu, knowing that if he heard me, BW would come charging in and not leave till he got his hot dog handout. Some dogs responded to a whistle; for Bruce Willis, it was the fridge. He was all guy. If I still had a TV, BW would probably have a remote taped to his paw.

I cooked up two dogs and SpaghettiOs, and we dined al fresco on the front porch with the cherry tree in full bloom
and a half moon hanging over the spire of Saint John’s. Hollis called to say he’d stop by around nine to pick up his keys and cell phone and that the crime-scene people finished processing the Lexus so it was ready to go.

I locked the front door, and BW fell asleep behind the counter. I put the day’s take into the Rocky-Road carton, then dumped my purse on the counter to pull out Hollis’s wallet, key ring, and the new key to the town house. I slipped the new key on the ring next his Lexus key. For a second I wondered how Hollis would get the Lexus home with me having his keys here till I remembered the Lexus was hauled off by the police, my key still in the ignition.

Except it wasn’t really my key that was in the ignition, of course, it was Hollis’s key. I was tired, not thinking straight, but this wasn’t right either. I’d sold the fountain to Raylene, needed the Lexus for the delivery, and IdaMae had given me Hollis’s key. But she couldn’t have, because here it was, right in front of me on his key ring.

There were two keys to the Lexus. Hollis had one, and the other key I gave to Cupcake. I remember watching her snatching my keys and dropping it in her Gucci bag before picking up my chiffon dress.

If I had Hollis’s key here in my hand, it had to be Cupcake’s key at the station. IdaMae didn’t give me Hollis’s key; she gave me Cupcake’s key, and the only way she could have done that was if she had taken it from Cupcake’s Gucci purse the night she was murdered.

A chill snaked up my spine, and I felt lightheaded. Dinah Corwin didn’t kill Cupcake. Dear God, IdaMae killed Cupcake!

I gasped at the realization and dropped the keys on the
counter. My head snapped up, my gaze fusing with IdaMae’s, who was staring at me through the kitchen window. She should be home, having tea, petting Buttercup, going to the library. She didn’t go to the library the night Janelle was killed; she went to the “For Sale” house and killed her! I lunged for the kitchen door to lock it, but IdaMae was faster. Her two hundred pounds shoved against the door hard, knocking me backward. Her eyes were dark, threatening. Her lips were thin and set in a straight line. There was no trace of a proper belle anywhere.
Good God, she looked like she came from Chicago!
She locked the door behind her and took Hollis’s .38 from her pocket.

“Why couldn’t you just leave things be?”

“
Y
OU
should have let Hollis rot in jail,” IdaMae said to me in an angry voice I didn’t recognize. “He cheated on you, divorced you, treated you bad.”

“Rot in jail? Hollis was going to sell this house to pay legal fees. I worked my behind off to fix it up. I redid the entire upstairs, including the bathroom, by myself. It’s Irish cream and celery green; let me show you.” I was scared and babbling.

“Stay right where you are, and don’t move.” IdaMae waved the gun, then picked up the key ring I’d dropped on the counter. “Everything was fine till Hollis put this in your purse. My plan was for him to give me the keys when he got arrested, not you. I was supposed to be there when the police came, not you. You hadn’t been to the office in months.”

“You weren’t upset over Hollis getting arrested. You were upset because he gave me the keys. You wanted to water
Hollis’s plants so I wouldn’t use his keys and maybe spot the Lexus key. It’s all about the keys. You dragged me into the alley to get at my purse, and you broke in here looking for it.”

“I tried everything to get these keys,” IdaMae snarled. “After the break–in at the town house, I had the locks changed. I wasn’t worried after that, till Dinah got arrested.” IdaMae wagged her head. “Hollis would be let out of jail and coming to get his things. I knew you’d put it all together.” She bit her bottom lip. “I just knew you would. I even told you that lie about going to the library the night Janelle died. Why couldn’t you just run your store and be content with that?”

“Why frame Hollis? He’s family. How could you?”

“He chose her over me.” IdaMae’s eyes sparked with rage. “He was going to fire me. Janelle wanted to take over the office and wanted me gone. Hollis was going to do it; she told me so that night at the house. I offered her cash to leave Savannah. She laughed at me, said she had a lot of pigeons here. She knew dirty little secrets. Reverend Franklin was good to my mamma when she was at the nursing home. I wasn’t going to let that two-bit hussy do such a thing to that fine man. She was mean and hateful, and Hollis was no better.”

Her voice cracked and a tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another. “How could Hollis up and fire me after all these years? This here is the South. We don’t treat family that way in Savannah.”

“Hollis was blinded by love, honey.” And IdaMae was blinded by hate and revenge. They all needed therapy.

“Janelle and Hollis had it coming,” IdaMae declared. “I wrapped that little witch in the plastic, knew she had your
Lexus key because she’d been driving that fancy car the day before. I got the Lexus after I bashed in Janelle, and when I came back, her purse was gone. Someone had been at the house. I was worried at first, but no one said anything. I figured whoever took that purse was glad Janelle was dead. She was a mean, hateful woman. He was poison for you, Reagan. Pure poison for us all.”

Poison.
The word bounced around in my brain. “You tried to kill Bruce Willis. You’re the one who fed him the chocolate. You even have it on your desk. That’s why he liked you so much when you came shopping here at the Fox. He never did anything to you. He’s just a sweet dog.”

“He’s a mutt. He’s just like Janelle. No breeding, no family name, no old money or fine home. If he’d barked, he’d have given me away. I needed to get inside and look for that key.”

“If you shoot me, KiKi and the sisters will come running.”

“Everyone’s at Clyde Steller’s funeral. No one will hear anything. I’m going to shoot you with Hollis’s gun here. When he comes in, I’ll shoot him. He called me to say he’d been released and would be at the office tomorrow. He thinks everything will be like it was before. But it’s too late for that. It’ll look like the murder-suicide of a deranged man. His fiancée is dead, his business nearly bankrupt, and you won’t sell the house for the money he needs. Everyone knows you had a messy divorce and hate each other.”

The grandfather clock let out the first chime for nine o’clock. IdaMae slipped the key ring in her pocket. She was going to get away with murder. Make that three murders, and she’d poisoned my dog. Suddenly I was gut-cramping,
hair-frying, foot-stomping, hissy-fit mad. There was something about a full-fledged hissy that cleared the brain and stiffened the Southern spine. I picked up the ice cream container. “I need to put this away. It’s chocolate. I don’t want BW to get sick again.”

I opened the freezer door, then slammed it shut. Immediately, I heard the telltale scratch of nails on hardwood, and BW bounded around the corner in full gallop. Startled, IdaMae turned, and I shoved her backward as hard as I could, the gun going off, scaring the liver right out of me. I half ran, half stumbled into the dark front hall, remembering too late that I’d locked the door and now couldn’t get out. I dove under the rack of evening dresses, trying to think of a plan besides being scared and throwing up.

“You can’t run from me, Reagan.” IdaMae’s voice came from the hall. “I know you’re in here.”

For a second I panicked that BW would follow me, thinking this was a game. But no game compared to hot dogs. BW was rooted to his spot in front of the fridge, waiting. I didn’t have a gun, but I did have home-court advantage. I knew every creak and groan of the old floors.

“I’m going to find you in here, honey,” IdaMae singsonged. “There aren’t many places to hide.” Her steps got closer. “Hollis will be here any minute, and then I’m taking care of you both.”

The floor squeaked, then creaked. Hangers slid across a wood dowel. IdaMae was searching for me by the blouses. Footsteps and then a double creak put IdaMae by the skirts now. More hangers parted. She took two steps to the coatrack, where I’d just finished a display of denim and red jackets. It crashed to the floor. Footsteps came closer,
stopping in front of the little black dresses where I hid. I back-crawled out the other side till my foot touched the wall and my hand connected with the grandfather clock.

IdaMae shoved aside the dresses, and I stood, flattening myself beside the clock. I had nowhere to go. Faint moonlight backlit the windows, and IdaMae’s silhouette moved away from the dresses.

Come to mamma
, I mentally pleaded.
Just a little closer to the clock.

“Reagan!” Boone shouted from the hallway, nearly giving me a heart attack.

Stupid man! He’d get himself killed on my account, and then I’d have to feel bad about it.

IdaMae turned toward Boone’s voice, and I shoved the clock hard. It crashed to the floor, missing IdaMae but offering one heck of a distraction. I jumped over the clock and did a headfirst tackle, flattening IdaMae facedown in the hallway, knocking the wind right out of me and jarring every bone in my body.