A Fitting End: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery

he added, waving.

“Okay,” I called, but I had no idea what he’d just invited me to. I raised my eyebrows at Trudy and Fern in a question.

“It’s a party,” Trudy said. “I go for my headaches, but you know how us Texas women like to be all prettied up. Took a while for people to warm up to the idea, but Dr. Hughes is up on all the latest beautification techniques. He usually has a masseuse for these parties, and once he even had a pedicurist there.” She glanced at her sister’s shoe-covered feet. “I enjoy a pedicure every now and again, but Ferny won’t go near them. Her feet are better off covered up,” she added.

Fern frowned. “Trudy, hold your tongue.”

“It is an open-door party,” Trudy said to me, ignoring her sister. “Come on over for a pedicure. It’ll get your mind off things.”

“Massages and pedicures help with your headaches?” I asked, feeling like I was missing something.

“Oh, lordy, no. It’s an injection. Botox. He gets the nerve right here,” Trudy said, touching a spot just under the inside of her right eyebrow. “It takes a few days, but it relaxes that nerve and I’m good for a long while.” She batted my arm. “Come on, now. Even your great-grandma, Loretta Mae, came around to a party every once in a while.”

I stopped in my tracks. Or I would have if I’d been walking. “Meemaw? She did?” Meemaw’d always said that she wore her signs of age like badges of honor. Each bit told a tale and to erase them would mean erasing a part of her life. Did she think we’d be able to read her secrets, whatever they were, right there on her face?

Trudy gave me a knowing smile. “I think she just liked to keep on top of the town gossip, you know.”

“You got that right,” I said, my mind wandering.

“Come on out tonight. Bring a friend. Maybe the darlin’ new Mrs. Kincaid…” She paused and gave my arm a squeeze. “Are you all right, dear?”

“What? Oh, I’m fine.” I laughed, but kept thinking about the dresses in the armoire. “I was just wondering what kind of secrets Loretta Mae wanted to keep hidden, is all.”

Trudy and Fern glanced at each other, a thread of silent thoughts traveling between them. “Sugar,” Trudy said after a beat, “your great-grandmother had a truckload of secrets.”

I started. “A… a truckload?”

“Maybe more.”

I was rendered speechless. Meemaw had deeded me her house, but had never told me. She knew she’d become a ghost, but she had never mentioned it. She hid the Margaret gowns from Mama, Nana, and me, and I had no idea why.

Trudy turned and started shuffling toward the country club. I fell in step beside her and Fern came up on my other side, looking ever the Southern gentlewoman. “Loretta Mae took her secrets to the grave with her. No need to worry about it now.”

Ah, but that’s where they were wrong. I gave a noncommittal, “Mmm-hmm,” knowing that I’d figure out some way to communicate better with Meemaw and figure out what story those dresses told that she didn’t want to share.

“So ya’ll will come to the party?” Trudy asked again.

“Mmm-hmm,” I said again, nodding.

“Wonderful!”

It dawned on me that I’d answered a question I hadn’t really paid attention to. “Wait. What?”

“Tonight, Harlow. My, but you’re distracted.” Trudy threw a look at Fern. “Sugar, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

I waved away her concern. “Just fine, ma’am,” I murmured, wanting to kick myself for committing. “But just for a pedicure.”

“Bring your grandmother,” Trudy said as we reached the entrance to the country club. “Bet she has a wrinkle or two that need smoothing out.” She winked at me. “Secrets run in families, you know. Especially yours.”

“Trudy,” Fern snapped.

But Trudy ignored her sister and chuckled again. I forced a smile. I hoped to be happy and giggling when I was in my seventies, but right now it felt like Trudy Lafayette was laughing at me instead of with me.

“Aren’t you friends with William Flores?” she asked out of the blue, a little extra emphasis on the word friends. “I seemed to remember hearing somethin’ about that. He lives right next door to the doctor, you know.”

“Right,” I said, flipping one of my side ponytails back behind my shoulder.

“All your grandmother’s cronies will be there,” Trudy said.

Fern sniffed. “Except Zinnia.”

Trudy’s already slow gait slowed even more. “It’s just shocking, isn’t it? I still can’t believe that deputy arrested her—”

I stopped short, my heart instantly in my throat. “Mrs. James was arrested?”

“Held for questioning,” Fern said, clarifying.

“Why?” I asked, the single word like a lead weight in my mouth. I knew the answer.

“Murder, of course,” Fern said. “Sue Ellen Jacobs works at the dispatch station and she told Larry Winfred who told David Smelter next door who told me that her fingerprints were on the murder weapon and that she has no alibi for the time of the murder.”

Trudy shaded her eyes as she looked at me. “Your sewing shears,” she added.

Mrs. James’s drawn and haggard face flashed behind my eyes. Her words echoed in my head. “I just need you to run the final rehearsal.” She’d known she was going to be arrested.

“They can’t possibly think she killed that man,” I said, shaking my head, although I wasn’t at all sure I believed what I was saying.

Fern fingered the little pearl buttons on her soft green cardigan. “How long have you known her?”

“Since I came back to Bliss. Six months, give or take.”

“She’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she,” Trudy said, picking up the thread of conversation.

I nodded.

Fern tapped her foot. “And how did she look the last time you saw her?”

I’d never seen her looking less than perfect… except… “She looked a little tired,” I answered. The truth was, she’d looked desperate. I just hadn’t wanted to see it.

The Lafayette sisters nodded in unison. “See? Loretta Mae was right.”

Realization hit me like a brick to the head. Mrs. James’s wrinkles had been showing, which meant her secrets were coming out.

Chapter 13

Revisiting a crime scene was something I did every single day, like it or not. Whenever I walked through my yard and saw the exact spot where a bridesmaid in Josie’s wedding party had drawn her last breath, I was reminded of how fragile life is.

I’d put a fountain in the spot to be a lovely reminder of Nell. It softened the hard edges of the memory, but the fact remained that I’d seen a dead body in my yard and that was something I could never erase.

Now, walking through the country club for the first time since Macon Vance’s body had been discovered, the foreboding shiver of murder skimmed over my skin again. Until the pageant was over, the spot on the stage where the golf pro was found would be a constant reminder of the tragic side of the event.

“I still can’t believe Mrs. James could commit murder,” I whispered to the sisters as we entered the event room. “Why would she? She said she didn’t hardly know him.”

Fern spat out a spontaneous raspberry in the most unladylike manner. “Macon Vance was notoriously well known, Harlow.”

“You mean the affairs?”

She tapped her nose, as if I’d gotten a word in a game of charades. “Multiple affairs over the years. Too