It wasn’t until I was at the top that I remembered where I’d seen Mrs. Abernathy before.
In Buttons & Bows, alongside Zinnia James, balking when Nell had held up my Escher-inspired black- and-white textile dress.
Chapter 33
I didn’t find Josie, but I did find Karen. She was leaning against the banister overlooking the gathering room, watching the people below with the focus of a master artist committing a scene to memory so he could interpret it on canvas later. She wore navy slacks and a conservative powder blue blouse and looked more business casual than glitzy. Not the right choice for an evening with the first family of Bliss.
My little pep talk hadn’t worked.
She jumped when I greeted her, clutching her hand to her heart. “Oh, God, you scared me, Harlow.”
Even though she’d said my name, she looked at me like she was walking down the cereal aisle at Walmart and had suddenly seen a celebrity. Clearly she couldn’t quite adjust to seeing me out of Buttons & Bows and in the Kincaids’ house.
“Yep, it’s me. I spend most of my waking hours at the dress shop, but every once in a while, I escape.”
“I didn’t know you were invited to this,” she said, redirecting her gaze to the people below us. Either she didn’t want to miss a second of the festivities—which seemed unlikely, since she was hiding up here—or she was a stalker whose prey was on the move.
I took advantage of the bird’s-eye view and did a quick search for Derek. There was no sign of him. I couldn’t imagine he’d miss his brother’s wedding, but the gala? It didn’t surprise me that he hadn’t made an appearance.
“Yeah, well . . .” I stuck an olive from my martini glass in my mouth. Seemed easier than explaining my fast friendship with Madelyn, her husband’s prior commitment, and her last-minute invitation for me to join her. I smiled, pushing my slipping glasses back into place.
“Whatcha doing up here?” I asked, peering over the balcony. From here, it looked like everyone in Bliss was crammed into the Kincaids’ mansion. I couldn’t keep my suspicious mind from wandering. Who among the party guests might have wanted Nell dead?
“I just came up here to get a few minutes of quiet,” she said.
I gave her a sidelong look. What if Karen had killed Nell? I created a quick list in my head of reasons why she might be guilty, wondering at the same time if this was how Sheriff McClaine worked.
Why did people kill? Every TV show and movie focused on one of three motives. Revenge. Greed. Jealousy. Had Karen wanted to get back at Nell for something? From what I’d gathered, they’d been good friends. Greed? Nell owned her shop, but other than that, did she have any assets to speak of? Nobody had mentioned anything, so I doubted it. From what Ruthann had said, Nell’s upbringing wasn’t wrought with riches so she didn’t have anything much to steal. Greed seemed unlikely.
Jealousy, then?
Oh! My heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. What if—
A horn blared from down below, a collective hush falling over the crowd. Keith Kincaid’s voice, projected and tinny, greeted his guests. “I wanna thank all y’all for comin’ out tonight,” he began, slow and lighthearted, just like John Wayne. “I’m gonna cut the bull crap and get right down to it. The Kincaid Family Foundation is in honor of my folks, Justin and Vanetta. They wanted to bring our family together for a common goal, making Bliss, Texas, a town to be reckoned with, and they did just that.”
A raucous cheer went up, drowning out whatever Keith said next. I searched the crowd, looking for the man to go with the voice, finally spotting him in the far corner, a Texas A&M megaphone pressed to his lips. He pushed a button and the horn sounded again, instantly quieting the crowd.
“We know y’all share our values and we thank you for continuing to honor the memory of my folks by donatin’ to the foundation. We couldn’t do what we do without y’all.”
I bristled. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that
I caught a glimpse of Will Flores. The scowl on his face indicated he might not share the same values as Keith Kincaid, either.
Mr. Kincaid set the megaphone on the built-in bookshelf behind him, interestingly absent of actual books— guess he wasn’t kidding when he scoffed at Miriam’s plans for a bookshop in town—snagged a drink from the portable bar, and was sucked into the crowd.
Karen had zeroed in on someone down below. I followed her gaze and spotted a tall man standing next to Nate. I recognized him from the night Nell died. Ted, Karen’s husband. For a second, I thought I saw Zinnia James as well, but the woman was instantly swallowed up by the crowd so I couldn’t be sure.
As my thoughts circled back to a possible motive for Karen, I automatically went to the lowest common denominator. What if Nell’s secret lover had been Karen’s husband? Or, better yet, what if he was the person she’d met at Reata? Karen had even said that Ted frequented that restaurant.
He hadn’t struck me as the cheating type, but Meemaw had taught me long ago never to judge by appearances. “Look through the eyes,” she’d always said. “Windows to the soul.”
I made small talk with Karen, leaning against the banister, trying to craft a question without being too blunt.
Turned out I didn’t have to make the effort. After a minute of awkward starts and stops, she ripped her attention away from the crowd downstairs and looked at me. “I . . . I don’t know what to do, Harlow.”
“About what?”
She looked over her shoulder at the deserted landing and hallway, then back over the banister. We were completely alone. “The sheriff questioned Ted today about Nell.”
“Your husband.” I kept my voice steady and my face still, but maybe my rogue thought wasn’t so far off.
She nodded. “This is Bliss. Nothing stays quiet for long. People are going to find out. What if they think he had something to do with it? It could ruin him.”
At least now I knew why Karen was dressed to disappear and was hiding upstairs. She was already afraid the gossipmongers of Bliss had turned their forked tongues her way. “Why would they think that, Karen?” I replied. “It was probably routine. I mean, when was the last murder in Bliss? Probably eons ago. So this is a big deal. They’re probably questioning everyone who knew Nell.”
“No,” she blurted. Her eyes welled with tears, her lower lip trembled, and her whole body seemed to quiver. “He . . . he saw her. Just . . . just before she died.”
“Nell wanted to revise her w-will—”
“Wait. So you knew she had a will?” But Ruthann hadn’t.
She nodded. “Ted did it for her.”
“Your husband’s a lawyer?” Now I was up to speed. It looked like Nell had used her friends for very specific things. Ted must have been the lawyer Gina had seen Nell with at Villa Farina.
She nodded. “He doesn’t even do wills and trusts. Strictly oil and gas. But she asked me for his help. He . . . he only did it as a favor. He met her that night at Seed-n-Bead so they could go over the final document, but . . . but . . .”
I put my hand on her shoulder. Her body stopped shuddering, her tears subsiding. “But what?”
“There was no one to witness it,” she said, looking completely devastated.
“Who was supposed to?”
“I have no idea. She wanted me to convince Ted to help her, but she didn’t tell me any more than that. But, see, he’s a lawyer. He should have made sure there was a witness, right? So why didn’t he?”
It wasn’t hard to read between the lines. What she
