Drop Dead Divas (30 page)

As I opened my mouth, Rayna grabbed my wrist and said quickly, “I’m glad you were able to be there for her. But she was happy at last, wasn’t she? I mean, Philip may be gone, but she was engaged to Race and really loved him, right?”

“Yes, I believe she did,” Miranda replied slowly, as if thinking it over. “Or at least, she’d convinced herself that she did. She was very lonely, you know.”

I knew what Bitty would have said to that, but kept my mouth closed since that seemed to be the wisest course at this time. If Miranda was going to share with us, I should just shut up and let her.

Rayna clucked sympathy. “I’m sure we all know how it feels to be lonely that way.”

Miranda nodded. “For someone like Naomi, being without a man in her life made her panicky.”

While Rayna nodded in agreement, I thought about my life without a man. Lonely? No, I didn’t feel that way at all. Liberated was more like it. Until meeting Kit, I’d decided never to rely on the company of a man again, for anything in my life. Not that I relied on Kit now, but it was nice to have male companionship without a feeling of dependence in any way, whether financial or emotional. Very nice.

Besides, I had Bitty and my parents to worry about. Not to mention the zoo in my parents’ barn. When did I have time to get lonely?

Miranda leaned forward in her chair. Her full lips twitched and her eyes dilated. Her voice was low. “Naomi was afraid of more than being alone, poor thing. She came by to see me right before . . . before she was killed, you know.”

Rayna made all the appropriate replies to that bit of information to encourage her to continue. I just sat quietly and tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt. Prying good gossip out of someone was not really my strong suit. Apparently, I had a lot to learn.

Miranda Watson rattled on about how Naomi confided in her quite a lot during the past two years. Miranda was the “only one in the world” who Naomi had felt would understand why she clung to Philip Hollandale for so long. That part was a bit intriguing to me, but since Miranda chose not to embellish on Naomi’s motives, I had to listen instead to how people might think Miranda gossipy and mean at times, but really, she was more of a free psychiatric therapist.

Rayna was right. Miranda Watson couldn’t resist gossiping. It was a personality characteristic that came in very, very handy.

Finally she came back around to a big reason Naomi was afraid before she died.

With her tone lowered theatrically, Miranda said, “Someone had threatened her life!”

Rayna retained her composure, but I got pretty fidgety. This wasn’t going to be one more accusation against Bitty, I hoped, because I might just ruin everything and give Miss Miranda Watson a piece of my mind.

“Whoever would have done that?” asked Rayna, her voice lowered to match the theatric tone.

“Well . . . let me just say that this certain someone claimed to be engaged to Race Champion instead of Naomi, and not only that—she moved to Holly Springs to be closer to him!”

It was like pulling teeth from an alligator, but Rayna persisted politely and quite skillfully, to draw the entire story from Miranda. Then Rayna sat back on the loveseat and drummed her fingers on the cushioned arm.

“Let me try to put this into perspective, and you tell me if I have it right, okay?” she said to Miranda, who also leaned back in her chair.

After a moment’s hesitation, Miranda nodded. I wondered if she already regretted her lapse of confidentiality.

“So, Naomi confided in you that she was being followed and was afraid. Also, that someone was following her and leaving notes not only on her car, but also on Race’s truck. That right so far?”

Miranda nodded again.

“And Naomi was certain it was a woman stalker who left those notes?”

Miranda looked a little surprised by Rayna's question. “Well . . . no, she never said she was
certain
it was a woman. We both just assumed—you know, that the notes were left by—by
her.
”

“And she had no idea who ‘her’ was.”

Here Miranda pursed her lips, then shook her head. “Well, yes. She thought she knew who it was, but as a legitimate journalist I don’t like making false accusations without proof, you know. It’s unethical.”

I could not contain myself. I blurted out, “Too bad you didn’t feel that way when you wrote that article about the Divas! You made wild allegations without knowing all the facts
then
. What’s the difference now?”

Rayna's elbow in my ribs indicated I had made my point and should shut up now. So I did. It was difficult, but I clamped my lips together so I probably looked like I had just bit into a lemon.

Miranda’s face had gone an interesting shade of purple, and her lips opened and closed a couple of times as she apparently fished for just the right curse words. I braced myself for it.

But then she surprised me by saying, “You’re right. I should have checked all the facts. My editor said almost the same thing after receiving several phone calls defending y’all. I intend to say so in my weekly column.”

My irritation shifted to suspicion. She gave up too easily. What was she up to, I couldn’t help but wonder. At the same time, I was a bit surprised by my pessimistic and suspicious turn of mood. I just hadn’t been the same lately, I thought as I studied Miranda Watson. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe even my usually cynical outlook needed sharpening. Or smothering.

While I hung between the two worse sides of my nature, Rayna, fortunately, had no such hang-ups.

“I’m very glad you reconsidered that article, Miranda.”

“I didn’t say I was wrong,” she defended herself again. “I got my facts about the Diva luncheon straight from an attendee.”

“Trina Madewell, perhaps?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

“Perhaps.”

“I’m sure Trina thought the worst when Bitty’s dog barged into the room and upset the tea tray,” Rayna said. “It did get a little crazy after that.”

“The
dog
upset the tea tray?” Miranda repeated slowly, then nodded. “Well, that does make more sense. I did wonder about the food fight, though.”

“As you may imagine, it didn’t happen exactly like you were told.” Rayna paused and smiled before directing the conversational detour back on track. “Did Naomi tell you anything about the person she suspected of stalking her, other than that she’d also been engaged to Race?”

“Just that she works on the square now. In a nice shop.”

Since there are only a few clothing stores still open on the court house square, it was pretty obvious that Rose Allgood had to be the person Miranda was reluctant to name.

“Of course,” Miranda was saying, “whoever it was could have left town by now. I mean, why would she stay here if the man she followed is dead?”

“Unless she already lives here,” Rayna said.

“Or if she has just moved here,” I said.

Miranda said nothing, obviously determined to hold onto the identity of the person. Maybe it was time to give her a not-so-gentle nudge.

“Rose Allgood has recently moved here,” I said as if thinking aloud, “and she works in one of the clothing shops on the square. She’s a business partner, in fact. She came from Biloxi, I understand.”

Miranda waved a plump hand as if dismissing me. “A coincidence, I’m sure.”

Rayna shot me a quick glance of frustration. Miranda smiled mysteriously at both of us. Then she stood up and indicated the front door with one hand.

“If you ladies have finished asking questions, I need to finish writing my column. Deadlines wait for no one, you know.”

As she stood up, Rayna said, “I hope the Divas see that apology in your column this week.”

A broad smile curved Miranda's mouth. “Oh, believe me, this week’s column is one that will have
the entire town
talking.”

Somehow, I thought as Rayna and I walked down the pathway to the curb, that sounded a bit ominous.

****

Of course, the minute Bitty found out we had a new lead, she was bound and determined to investigate it.

“Why not?” she said, looking from me to Rayna and back. “It’s the least we can do.”

“No,” I said, “the least we can do is nothing. You want to barge into Carolann Barnett’s shop and accuse her business partner of murder. That’s the
most
we can do.”

“Gaynelle is usually very accurate,” said Bitty. “If she told you Rose Allgood has a good motive for killing Race, then we should check it out.”

“What she said was that Rose was once engaged to Race,” Rayna pointed out. “That’s quite a bit of difference.”

Bitty dismissed that notion with a flick of her wrist. “I say we march right up there and ask her about him.”

I was intrigued by her appeal for tact. “Really? And how exactly shall we do that? ‘Excuse us, Miz Allgood, but we understand you were once engaged to the dead man, and we’d like to know if you killed him.’ Is that your plan?”

“Don’t be silly. We don’t have to be quite that blunt.”

Rayna looked at her wrist and said, “Oh my, I need to go home and feed the dogs before they start gnawing on furniture. I’d love to go with you, but . . . .”

When her voice trailed off, and it became obvious she intended to get out while the getting was good, I said, “How can you tell the time on that watch?”

Bitty clapped her hands and called for Chen Ling, and Rayna parried my question about the watch she wasn’t wearing by leaning toward me and whispering, “Don’t tell her we went to Miranda Watson’s house. She won’t take it well.”

Since I’m well aware of Bitty’s attitude toward people who humiliate her in print, I whispered back, “Coward!”

“Bye, Bitty,” Rayna called toward the back of the house, where Bitty was no doubt dressing Chen Ling in a pink tutu, and to me, “Wear dark glasses. Maybe Carolann won’t recognize you.”

I shook my head at her departing figure. “She knew my sister. She’ll recognize me.”

We parked in the square and walked across the street to the lingerie and book store that had forever changed my idea of what to expect from such establishments. Bitty was a little too eager, in my opinion, and I wondered if that was because she wanted to question Rose or sample some of her merchandise.

Wisely, I didn’t ask. There are some things it’s best not to know.

Once inside, Bitty and Chitling pretended to browse the racks, while I hung close by the door in order to make my escape should it be necessary. There was no sign of Rose, Carolann, or Heather. After a few minutes Bitty got impatient and walked to the desk and rang the old-fashioned little bell that sits atop the counter by the cash register.

Carolann bustled out a few moments later, and looked surprised and pleased to see us. I figured that would change quickly enough, so just waved and made sure my sunglasses still covered half my face.

“Bitty!” she greeted my deceitful cousin, “I’m so glad to see you again. It’s been forever since you came in. I have a new shipment of things that we’re still putting out. I know how you love the special laces and silks from Vera Wang. Do you want to see them first?”

Chitling barked when Carolann got too close, and she jumped back. “Oh, this is the dog I keep hearing about. Isn’t it?”

I understood why she might be doubtful, and chuckled to myself. Since there was no sign of Rose Allgood, I might be spared the awkward scene of Bitty being tossed out of the shop on her curvaceous little rear.

“Why yes,” Bitty trilled, “this is my Chen Ling. Isn’t she precious? I don’t know what I would do without her. She’s been my constant companion these past few months of trials and tribulations. I know you’ve heard all about Philip, and of course now those horrible murders—I wonder, is Rose Allgood in today?”

Carolann seemed momentarily confused. I empathized. Sometimes Bitty can switch conversational gears so fast it’s hard to keep up.

“Why yes, she is in. She oversees the merchandise in our new department. Have you seen it yet? It’s quite nice. Rose and Heather have been working away in there.”

“New department? Oh, I hadn’t heard,” Bitty lied without a hint of shame. “I’ll have to check it out, of course. You know how I like to keep up with the latest fashions.”

Carolann laughed at that. I found myself snickering and following behind them at a safe distance as Bitty was led to the Shangri-la of crotchless panties and paraphernalia. Still chattering away, Carolann sounded quite enthusiastic about what she referred to as the “Blue Velvet Room.”

“There was a movie with that title, you know,” Carolann added, “and I just thought it was so appropriate, and Rose agreed with me, so that’s what we call it, and—well, this is Rose. Rose, this is Miz Bitty Hollandale, and she’s asked specially to see your stock today.”

Stock didn’t sound like quite the right word to me, but then, I’ve always had a bit of trouble figuring out what exactly one should call sex toys. They don’t really seem to fit the innocent name of “toys” to me. That word brings up visions of kids at Christmastime or in the schoolyard, not whips, chains, handcuffs with fur, and odd-looking things that seem to defy logic as well as physics. But then, I’ve been told I’m quite naïve in those areas, too. Thankfully, that’s true.

Chen Ling set up a deafening racket as soon as Bitty stepped into the Blue Velvet Room, and I was pretty sure I knew why. All those little soldiers standing at attention had probably scared the bejesus out of her. They had me.

Irresistibly drawn closer, I stood in the doorway under the velvet drapes and got a bird’s-eye view of the proceedings as Bitty pretended to browse among the shelves of upright rubber penises while she talked animatedly to Rose Allgood. Fascinated, I had to admit Bitty kept her focus pretty well while standing in a forest of rainbow-colored erections.

“So you see,” Bitty was saying as she idly picked up a massive rubber penis complete with testicles and an on/off switch, “as soon as I heard you were new in town, I had to come right down and introduce myself. It’s so important for a community to welcome newcomers, don’t you think?”

Rose regarded Bitty with cool appraisal, and I knew she wasn’t a bit taken in by my cousin’s blather. She was obviously just waiting for the punch line.