Reap What You Sew (12 page)

Suddenly, the one-track mind that had gotten her to that exact spot didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Because if she opened the note and it said something about the murder, Tori would be an accomplice after the fact if she didn’t share what she knew with the authorities. If she didn’t open it at all, any worry she had about Leona’s involvement in Anita’s demise would remain just that. Worry.

Worry couldn’t put you on a stand.

Worry couldn’t lock a friend in jail.

And worry didn’t necessarily entail a guilty conscience if it went unshared.

Or did it?

“Ugh,” Tori moaned. She reached outward, pulled the plate and its accompanying note in her direction, the sound of her heart beating double time in her ears. Slowly, carefully, she opened the envelope and extracted a folded notecard from inside.

Victoria,

While I must take credit for the vast majority of your successes since coming to Sweet Briar, I feel it necessary to applaud you for one of your very own.

Ms. Belise’s nut allergy, as you so smartly suggested, proved to be the perfect way to get rid of her once and for all.

Let’s go to dinner soon and celebrate, shall we?

All the best, Leona

The beating in her ears stopped as her mouth gaped open. Leona had done it, she’d actually done it… .

Tori’s mouth went dry as she read the note a second and third time, the words and their meaning remaining unchanged no matter how many times she sent up a mental prayer for the contrary.

“Hey there, sweetheart, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

She read the note a fourth time. Still, no change.

“Tori? You okay?”

Looking up, she saw Milo standing in the doorway, worry etched in his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him how glad she was to see him, yet nothing came out.

In an instant, her fiancé was at her side, crouching beside her chair as he looked up at her. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Nina’s baby?”

Nina’s baby…

“Hey.” He stood, pulled her from her chair, and wrapped her in his arms. “Talk to me, Tori. What’s going on?”

She tried to find words that wouldn’t make her sound like an idiot. But she failed. “Margaret Louise… put in walnuts… and now she’s dead.”

Milo jumped back, horror evident where worry had been only seconds earlier. “Leona is dead? When? How?”

The babbling continued. “I didn’t tell her to… I just said it… and now”—she pointed at the brownies—“she’s gonna be sitting in an electric chair and she doesn’t even
cook
!”

She felt his hands on her shoulders as he turned them both around until he was able to lean against her desk. “Tori, slow down. I’m not following a thing you’re saying. Can you take it from the top? Slowly?”

Take it from the top…

She blinked once, twice, Milo’s face suddenly coming into focus.

Get a grip, Tori… .

“What’s this about Leona?” he prompted.

She inhaled slowly, willed herself to find a coherent explanation before the man in front of her went running for the hills, her engagement ring in his pocket. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do with all of this.” Slowly, she pointed at the foil-wrapped plate, its contents all but certain.

“This?” He swiveled his body to the left just long enough to retrieve the plate and peel back its covering. A smile crept across his face. “Um, Tori… these are brownies.”

She swallowed.

“I know.”

“Since when have you had a problem knowing what to do with a brownie?” he teased, retrieving the top bar from the mound on the plate and waving it under her nose.

Pushing it away, she shook her head. “Please, Milo, that’s not funny.”

He dropped the brownie back onto the plate and set it down on her desk once again. “Okay, I’m lost. What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath and brought him back to the beginning. “Remember when Leona was waiting for me the other night when we got back from seeing Nina and the baby?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you remember how I told you Leona was getting frustrated at the way Anita was following her and Warren around like a puppy? Refusing to give them so much as a second alone?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, after you left I made a silly suggestion to Leona.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest in amusement. “What kind of suggestion?”

“I suggested she go the garlic route.”

“Huh?”

She tried again. “Just as garlic repels vampires, I suggested Leona try nuts to repel Anita.”

Milo’s head tilted to the left. “Nuts?”

“Nuts,” she repeated. “Anita’s allergic to them. So much so, she demands all nut products be kept some two hundred yards away from her at all times.”

Understanding dawned in Milo’s eyes. “Ahhh. I see. Did it work?”

“Too well.” She closed her eyes only to open them and find Milo staring at her with blatant curiosity.

“How so?”

She swallowed.

She silently counted to ten.

She swallowed again.

“Anita is dead.”

Milo’s mouth dropped open.

“Dead,” she repeated in whispered confirmation.

“What are you saying?”

Tori took a deep breath and then filled in the rest of the gaps. “Leona decided to take my suggestion and whip up a batch of brownies… with nuts.”

Milo teed his hands. “Wait a minute. This is a joke, right?”

She stared at him. “A joke?”

“Leona Elkin doesn’t cook,” Milo pointed out by way of explanation. “You know that, I know that, heck, all of Sweet Briar knows that.”

“Margaret Louise made them for her.”

His hands returned to his side. “Okay, that makes more sense now.”

She turned toward the large plateglass window that overlooked the hundred-year-old moss trees surrounding the library, desperate for the sense of peace the view normally afforded. But it was no use. Instead, she began to pace. “Anyway, Margaret Louise made the batch of brownies to Leona’s specifications.”

Milo pointed at the plate. “Lots of nuts, right?”

“Right.” She stopped long enough to study the plate and then began pacing again. “Then, to the best of what I can figure out, Leona took them to the set. But rather than use them as a way to keep Anita at bay per my idea, she apparently gave her one to
eat,
instead. Next thing I knew, I was with Margaret Louise and Annabelle in the security trailer and the call came in about Anita.”

“You sure she’s dead?” he finally asked, the disbelief she’d felt all morning now evident in his voice.

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

“And Leona? Where is she?”

Stopping mid-pace, Tori dropped into the cozy armchair in the corner and rested her head in her hands. “I have no idea. No one has seen her all morning. Except for Dixie.”

“Dixie saw her?” Milo echoed.

She poked her head up. “She did. Here.”

“And?”

Tori stood and made her way back to the desk, her gaze, once again, fixed on the plate of brownies in the center of her desk. “She brought me a thank-you gift.”

She could sense Milo following her line of vision, heard the slow intake of air as he realized what she was saying. “These are those?”

“I think so,” she whispered. “Look.” Slowly, deliberately, she held the notecard in Milo’s direction. “She left a note.”

She gave him a second to read Leona’s words, then another few seconds to read it again. When he finally looked up, she shrugged. “Pretty damning stuff against Leona, huh?”

For a moment Milo said nothing as he studied Tori closely, his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor missing in action. And as she continued to meet his eye, she realized the worry was back, only the worry he now sported sent a shiver down her spine.

“Wh-what?”

He reached out, took her hand in his, and squeezed it tight. “If what you’re telling me is true, Leona isn’t the only one implicated in this note.”

She looked from Milo to the note and back again. “What are you talking about?”

Slowly, he released her hand, pointing to the second paragraph of Leona’s note.

Ms. Belise’s nut allergy, as you so smartly suggested, proved to be the perfect way to get rid of her once and for all.

She heard the gasp as it escaped her mouth, felt the way her mouth grew dry and her hands moistened as the reality of Milo’s words hit her with a one-two punch.

“Oh, Milo, what am I going to do?”

Chapter 10

Somehow she made it to closing, the comings and goings of the patrons providing some semblance of a distraction from the never-ending questions and second-guessing that ran on a continuous loop in her thoughts. Sure, she’d tried to let Milo’s pledge of help quiet the voices, but it was hard.

Milo was right. If Leona went down for Anita Belise’s death, Tori would be right there beside her as the brains behind the operation.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow since the movie stuff is on hold,” Dixie mumbled, gathering her purse and her keys with quiet efficiency. “Then again, if you feel like taking a day off, I could certainly cover things. It has been a rather busy week for you.”

Three months ago, Tori would have taken Dixie’s suggestion as yet another indication her predecessor hadn’t let bygones be bygones. But now, after working so closely together during Nina’s predelivery bed rest and the aftermath of the library fire, she knew differently. Dixie no longer seemed to blame Tori for her earlier-than-intended retirement. In fact, the woman actually found opportunities to praise her replacement for the work she did, even going so far—on one momentous occasion—as to say the board had made a good decision in hiring Tori.

No, any disappointment she heard in Dixie’s voice came from a simple need to work in a place that meant as much to her as it did Tori.

She studied the elderly woman closely, the stooped shoulders of three months ago gone, now replaced by a quiet confidence that was impossible to ignore. “You know something, Dixie? I think I might just take you up on that, if it’s okay.”

Dixie’s face brightened. “Really? You mean I can run things around here tomorrow?”

“If you’re willing, I’d be grateful,” she said. The time off would enable her to clear her head and come up with a plan. As Milo had pointed out before he left, they needed any and all information they could find on Anita Belise’s murder. Tracking down Leona would be the first step in that endeavor.

“I’ll be here at eight.” Dixie marched toward the front door only to stop a few feet shy of her destination. “You’ve made an old lady feel good about herself again these past few months, Victoria. And for that, I thank you.”

She felt the lump that formed in her throat and worked to swallow it back. “You’re very welcome, Dixie. But, truly, it’s been my pleasure.”

And with that, Dixie was gone, her shuffled footsteps disappearing out into the night. Tori rose and made her way over to the same door and threw the dead bolt. At the sound of the familiar click, she felt her shoulders slump in relief.

Wearing a smile when all she wanted to do was scream was hard work. Keeping the fear and the questions at bay, even harder. But now that the library was closed and Dixie had left, she didn’t have to pretend any longer.

Funny thing was, now that she could focus on the trouble in front of her, she couldn’t help but wish for the distractions to return. They were easier. Much, much easier.

A faint tapping from somewhere down the hall caught her attention.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She pulled her hand from the engaged lock and walked toward the sound, each subsequent tap growing louder and louder as she headed down the hallway and toward her office.

Reaching into the darkened room, she turned on the overhead light.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…

She glanced toward the window in time to see a shadow duck behind the line of bushes that ran along the building’s exterior. And in that instant she knew who’d been tapping.

Turning on her heels, Tori headed back into the hallway, only this time, instead of making a left toward the main room, she turned right toward the back door. With a careful push, she peeked around the corner. “Leona?” she half whispered, half yelled. “Is that you?”

Silence.

“Dixie left. It’s just me.”

A rustling in the bushes was followed by a string of mutterings about snagged panty hose and then, finally, Leona pushing her way past Tori, Paris clutched protectively in her arms. “If I had to spend one more second crouched in that position I was going to start bargaining away all sorts of things—including all future interest in men.”

“Like that would ever happen,” Tori joked. The words were no sooner past her lips before she remembered how many times she’d called Leona’s phone over the past seven or eight hours. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”

Leona led the way into Tori’s office and flopped onto the armchair. “Now you sound like Warren.”