is using the family company to illegally import diamonds.”
She could have hit me with a wispy yard of organza and sent me flying clear to East Texas. The Kincaids were oil tycoons, for pity’s sake. Diversification of a stock portfolio was one thing, but going from black gold to conflict diamonds when you were already billionaires? I almost laughed.
“Why would you think that?” I asked.
She launched into the story. “I was at Nate’s office a few weeks ago for a board meeting. Holly had to stay after school, but she’d lost her cell phone and I hadn’t replaced it yet. I gave her mine so she could call me at home when she was ready to be picked up. Anyway, I went to Nate’s office a little early to talk to him about this idea I had to open a bookstore. I wanted Nate to invest in it.”
“Right. I heard your dad talking to Will Flores about it at the party the other night.”
“Nate was tied up with his secretary, so I waited in his office. His cell was on the desk and he got a text. I thought it might be Josie, but it was from Derek.”
She shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it.
“What did it say?”
“It was cryptic, but he basically said that it was too late for them to stop the next shipment and that Nate was an idiot if he thought it was going to be easy to get out.”
“And you think he was talking about diamonds?”
She nodded, falling silent as a couple of kids ran past the porch, their parents strolling behind them. “I didn’t have much time, but I scanned some of Nate’s old texts. He and Derek went back and forth over the size of the first diamond Nate had put into a ring, and then argued about how to get the second diamond. Nate asked when the next shipment was scheduled and where it was coming from. I’ve been researching how it’s done,” she continued. “Someone acts as a dealer. That person sells them to another dealer across two countries’ borders. Eventually they end up here. Diamonds can be exported from one country to another. A dealer doesn’t have to show where they came from, only certification from the country they’re leaving at that moment. Nate didn’t kill Nell, but he and Derek are in deep.”
I couldn’t tell her what I was thinking—that Nate was probably scheming to blow the whistle on the operation. The night Nell was killed, that had to be what he’d been working on. “And if Nate didn’t kill Nell, you think that—”
“Derek did.”
She got up and paced the porch. “They’re my brothers. I know you must think it’s warped, but how can I turn them in? It’ll kill my mother. It’ll ruin the family name. And the wedding—” She collapsed into the rocking chair again.
At least now I understood why she’d dropped out of the wedding party, but it didn’t help me figure out how she should handle this.
“Nell always seemed to ‘get’ my family. I could talk to her and she’d understand. I didn’t know what to do, so I asked her. She told me that everything would work out. She said she’d hold on to the ring for me while I figured out what to do.”
“And you think Derek found out?”
She nodded. “And if my brother wants something, especially something he thinks is his, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”
A chill crept up my spine. I wondered if doing whatever it took this time included murdering Nell.
Chapter 49
Mama showed up at the shop door and prevented us from any further discussion of the Kincaid family. She back-combed Miriam’s hair, giving it just the right amount of Texas volume. Meanwhile I finished the side seams of her dress, helping her into it when her hair and face were done.
She looked in the mirror, and I watched that sense of peace visibly flow through her. “It’s beautiful.”
The mint green linen, cut with a slight flare at the hem, had turned out exactly as I’d envisioned it. It brought out her Irish heritage, the rusty highlights in her hair vibrant and bold.
I sighed, relieved, knowing that my charm was working its magic with Miriam. She wanted peace. That’s what I’d given her. Whatever happened, it would all be okay for her. I hoped.
By the time she left, Mama and I had less than thirty minutes to make ourselves presentable for the wedding. “I’ll see you there,” she said, hurrying out the door to get herself ready. I took the stairs two at a time, speeding through a shower in record time, pulling my wild hair into a slightly less wild updo, and shimmying into my all-time- favorite shapewear slip.
With no time to deliberate, I chose the first dress I saw in my closet, an off-the-rack navy-and-white number that looked a little like the outfit Debbie Reynolds wore in
It didn’t take long to realize why. “Meemaw! I don’t have time for this.”
Just like before the Kincaid Family Foundation gala, the clothes in my closet suddenly slid back and forth along the rod. It felt like we were on a rocking ship, the clothes sliding to the right as the boat tipped to starboard, crashing to the left as it lurched to port.
I lunged, reaching into the fray, trying to grab hold of a dress. Any dress. The wedding was going to start in twenty minutes! But each time I almost got hold of one, thinking I’d won the battle, the hullabaloo in the closet snowballed and I was forced to stagger back. “Loretta Mae Cassidy,” I said, stomping my bare foot on the cool hardwood floor. “Are you
The chaos in the closet stopped, but of course there was no answer. She made the pipes moan and fluttered curtains when it suited her, not when it suited me. But a chiffon floral print dress, courtesy of a Maximilian surplus sale, slipped off its hanger and fell to the floor.
I was too tired to think, anyway, so I grabbed it and slipped it over my head. It had a five-inch empire waist with black accent trim, a faux halter top where the fabric actually draped down the center of the back and reconnected with the waist, and a full skirt. Large lavender, pink, and cream flowers were complemented by touches of coral, green, and a lot of dark gray for contrast. The instant I zipped up the back, I felt flirty and feminine and wondered why I’d never worn it.
I adhered to Heidi Klum’s general philosophy of a garment accentuating either boobs or legs, but not both. I took a quick look in the mirror. The flirty dress hit my legs at midcalf, floating over my hips, long enough to cover the scrapes and cuts still visible on my legs, and while the V neck wasn’t deep, it did just enough to accent my 36Bs.
As I slipped on a pair of strappy lavender sandals, my mind processed everything Miriam had told me. It was so much easier to believe Derek could be responsible, but something about it didn’t feel right. It felt like part of the story was still missing.
I headed for the stairs, stopping short and bolting back to my dresser. I’d wrapped the little velvet jewelry bag in the stack of napkins I’d taken from Seed-n-Bead and had hidden it in my lingerie drawer the night before, but something in my gut told me I shouldn’t let it out of my sight. I grabbed the whole wad, shoved it in my purse, and raced for the hallway. My heels clicked as I hurried down the stairs. I really was late now. Why hadn’t I asked Mama to come pick me up? Why hadn’t I had the battery replaced in Meemaw’s old truck? Without a car, I’d have to walk. I grabbed the doorknob, yanked the door open, and bolted . . . “
“Whoa. You’ve really got to be more careful,” a playful male voice said, gripping my shoulders, pushing me back slightly. I caught glimpses of a black jacket and slacks, white dress shirt, and solid, faintly metallic forest green tie. A shiver swept over my skin as I looked into the face of the dashing man darkening my doorstep.
Mercy.
“It’s my door,” I quipped, shocked at the flirtatious note in my voice.
“That it is. I thought—” Will stopped in midsentence as he got a good look at me, then let loose a low whistle. “Wow. You look . . . That’s a . . . I mean, wow. You look . . . stunning.”
The heat of his Rhett Butler accent made my heart give a little pitter-patter.
