“Prosecutor,” he clarified. “I’m going to A&M. I have it all planned out.”
Thank goodness his daddy was a doctor, I thought. Texas A&M wasn’t cheap.
“I know it won’t exonerate her, but it’s an explanation, at least,” I said. The truth of the matter was, the only way to get Zinnia James off the hook for murder was to figure out who really killed Macon Vance.
Not something I wanted to get involved in. I owned a dressmaking shop. Albeit a magical dressmaking shop.
That’s when the idea hit me. I wasn’t a detective and couldn’t investigate a murder, but I could help them with my charm. If I visited Mrs. James, maybe I’d get a vision of a dress for her. And if I made it and sewed her wishes into it, maybe, just maybe, things would work out for her.
Chapter 14
“Maybe your great-grandmother had headaches, too?” Madelyn Brighton, with her thick black hair, chocolate-colored skin, and British accent, made everything sound elegant—even a conversation about cosmetic enhancements while sitting inside the cab of my truck while I looked for parking on Hickory Creek Road.
“If she did, she never mentioned them to me. But I’m here in an official capacity, not to get some procedure done.”
She arched one of her eyebrows at me. “You’re here in the official capacity of a dressmaker?”
“Yup.” It was just too much of a coincidence that I’d found the old Margaret dresses right before the Margaret festival and I couldn’t get them off my mind. I filled Madelyn in on the gowns in the armoire, thinking that if I talked it out, I could stop thinking about them.
Madelyn listened attentively, and finally, I moved on to my idea about making the perfect outfit for Mrs. James. “The women here tonight might give me ideas about Mrs. James’s perfect garment.”
“High expectations from a cosmetics party,” she said in her very British way.
She looked out the window as I slowly drove down the street. Still nowhere to park. At this rate, we were going to end up clear down at the Johnson ranch, and considering I’d had a run-in with Clevis Johnson and his weather vane back in the day, I preferred not to go near his place. Not to mention we’d have to hoof it a good long way to the Hughes’s property.
“Not to be a party pooper,” she said after a spell, “but even if you figure out Mrs. James’s perfect garment, which believe me, I know you can do—I’ve not been the same since you made me over that first time and just look at me now.” She spread her arms as much as she could in the truck, showing off her stylish outfit: a pair of red, midcalf leggings and a flowing silk crepe de chine white-black-and-red-trimmed scarf blouse I’d made for her. “But even if you figure it out and make it—amidst the gowns you need to finish, may I remind you—how is it going to help her? Your magic is a blessing—”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Madelyn knew the Cassidy secret, but to hear her talk about it so openly made my heartbeat skitter. I’d been so used to keeping it under wraps. I hadn’t told Josie, Gracie, Will… no one but Madelyn.
“—but if she committed murder—”
“But that’s just it,” I said, cranking the steering wheel and flipping the truck around to make another pass in case someone had left the party and a spot along the shoulder had opened up. “She
“You don’t
I refused to believe that. I’d already been shocked once by murder in my front yard. Mrs. James was almost like my benefactor. While my business grew, she was helping to keep me working with her custom garment needs. Of course I didn’t want to lose her business, but it was more than that. She was a tell-it-like-it-is kind of woman, just like the women in my family. I liked that about her. I liked her. And because of her past friendship with my grandmother, even if they were estranged now, I felt oddly connected to her. It was as if we shared a piece of history.
“Your lovely Mr. Flores is flagging you down, love.”
I looked to where Madelyn was pointing and sure enough, there was Will, at the end of his long driveway, wiping his hands clean on a blue rag, beckoning me over. “He’s not
“You’re scared.”
I snapped my head to stare at her. “What would I be scared of?”
“Plenty. It’s written all over your face. Your Cassidy charm helps other people, but shouldn’t you go after what you want?”
I wagged my finger at her. “Oh no, Madelyn. I’m back home. That’s the only thing I want. Now I just have to keep my shop going so I can stay.”
I could tell Madelyn wasn’t sure if she believed me, but it was true. Sure, I’d wondered how solid my charm really was, and if I was sacrificing certain things to be able to stay in Bliss, but in the end, I was a Cassidy. I’d make Buttons & Bows thrive. Everything else was gravy.
I pulled up the gravel driveway. From the looks of it—jeans and T-shirt stained with oil, a cap turned backward on his head, and work boots—Will had been tinkering under the hood. Apparently he could transition between a drafting table and mechanic’s toolbox. A man of all trades. He backed onto the grass as I pulled up next to his truck with its propped up hood.
He stepped up to my truck and opened the driver’s door. The hinges creaked and the truck rocked, the chassis groaning. I threw it into PARK, double-checked the parking break, and once I was convinced the truck wouldn’t roll back down the slight incline of the driveway, I hopped out.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to shoot that stuff up under your skin,” Will said as he slammed the door closed behind me.
“What stuff?” Madelyn asked.
Will shook his head at me. “Botox.”
“No way,” I said, as Madelyn added, “We’re here in an official capacity.” She walked around the front of the truck and joined us. “She fancies herself a dressmaking detective, I think.” She winked at me and I scowled at her.
“So you’re not here for injections,” Will said, tucking his oil rag in his back pocket, a playful smile on his lips. “That’s good.”
“She might if that’s what it takes to get people to tell her what she wants to know.”
Will arched a brow and studied me. “Let me guess. You want to prove Mrs. James is innocent.”
“As a matter of fact…”
“She just might,” Madelyn said. “She’s solved one crime. Why not two?”
Will nodded, folding his arms over his chest. “Maybe you need a new sign on your shop. Buttons and Bows Detective Agency.”
“Ha ha,” I said, but I couldn’t help my smile from spreading. “I’ll stick to fashion design, thank you very much, but I do want to help Mrs. James. I know she didn’t kill that man.”
“How do you know that? That day she came over to your place, she was acting pretty damn guilty, if you ask me.”
“There’s got to be more to it.” I laid my palm flat against my stomach. “I feel it. I just know she didn’t kill Macon Vance.”
“You’re right,” a voice said, the crunch of gravel sounding under steady footsteps. “Zinnia didn’t kill him, but there are plenty of other people who had motive.” We all turned to look for the person who’d spoken. A man walked up the driveway. He looked to be in his late forties. Slightly thinning dark blond hair and suntanned skin. A salmon- colored polo and khakis. Fit. I’d never seen him before in my life. “She’s innocent,” he said.
Will strode down the driveway, his arm outstretched. “Will Flores,” he said.
The other man took the offered hand and shook. “Steven Allen. Zinnia’s son-in-law.” He lifted his chin toward the Hughes’s house. “My wife’s in there. She didn’t want to come tonight, what with her mother being formally arrested, but I made her. Told her it doesn’t do her mother any good if her daughter holes up at home. Nope, better to get out, be seen, so everyone knows it’s nothing but a horrible mistake.”
