A Fitting End: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery

James?”

She folded her arms across her chest when I didn’t budge. “Zinnia and me… not even a man could tear our friendship apart, no sir.”

“Granddaddy being the man?”

“Right.” She gave a low whistle. “She fancied him, but he fancied me. She landed herself Jeb—or maybe he landed her—and that’s worked out just fine.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Thelma Louise nipping at a Knock Out Rose bush. “Shoo!” I said, letting my guard down. The split second was all it took. Nana barreled past me, trotting down the steps, slapping her leg with the palm of her hand. She whistled again, and it hit me. Goat whisperer. Nana had used Thelma Louise to distract me from questioning her. “Nana! Wait a sec!”

I grabbed my cowboy boots from the corner of the kitchen, half running, half hopping as I tried to catch up to her and slip one of my boots on at the same time.

She flung up her arm, never breaking stride. Thelma Louise skipped alongside her. “Harlow,” she said, her voice heavy with warning. “Drop it.”

I stopped, shoved my foot into my boot, and ran to catch up. I grabbed her hand, pulling her to a dead stop. “I just want to know what happened that night.”

She spun around, a fire in her eyes like I’d never seen. “We have a bond. A vow we all pledged never to break.”

“Right. Your pact. What, did you kill someone?” I blurted, regretting the words the second they left my mouth.

“Of course not,” she snapped. Thelma Louise had been nibbling at the hem of Nana’s plaid blouse. She stopped, turning her soulful eyes to my grandmother.

Nana patted the goat’s head, her lips moving as she silently communicated with the animal. A second later, Thelma Louise trotted off toward the gate that connected Nana’s property to mine.

“Then what?” I asked, after Thelma Louise had knocked the latch up with her nose and slipped through.

Nana tugged at the loose curls in her hair. The streak of blond almost shimmered in the sunlight. “Our secrets,” she finally said.

“Secrets from when you were fifteen years old? Are they even important anymore—” I stopped short. Oh. My. The truth hit me like a bushel of peaches. Our secrets. She meant the Cassidy secrets. “Mrs. James knows about our charms?” I whispered.

“She does.”

“Mrs. Mcafferty, too?”

She nodded slowly. “But they’ll never tell. We swore it. Our charms will vanish if we break the vow,” she said, though I didn’t know how she knew that. “They’ll never tell.”

“But Gavin McClaine knows something. Madelyn Brighton knows. People suspect. Nana, what if one of them already told?”

Nana kicked at the dirt. “Impossible. We made a promise to each other.”

A big ol’ black-and-white-checkered flag went up in my head. “And Eleanor… Mcafferty? What about her? She’s Gracie’s grandmother, but she doesn’t even know it.”

Nana’s hands trembled. “No. Are you sure?”

“Will told Gracie and me everything.”

“Well, I’ll be.” She shook her head, as if she just couldn’t believe the small world we lived in. “Neither one of them will ever breathe a word, Harlow. They can’t because…” She started walking again, hurrying toward the sanctuary of her own property. “They can’t,” she said again.

As I watched her go, I read between the lines, finishing in my head what she hadn’t said aloud. They wouldn’t breathe a word because Eleanor Mcafferty and Zinnia James had their own secrets to protect.

Chapter 24

Deputy Gavin McClaine pushed back his cowboy hat and grimaced. “Visitin’ again so soon, Ms. Cassidy?”

I followed him into his father’s office, which he was apparently using when Hoss McClaine wasn’t. I sat in my usual spot. I’d been here with Will Flores recently, discussing a murder, and here I was again. This office was becoming all too familiar.

Keeping my voice steady wasn’t working. The hammering in my chest threatened to knock the wind clean out of me. I didn’t know where to begin. Or how to begin.

“Ms. Cassidy?” he said, emphasis on the Ms. and a distinct lack of interest dripping from his voice.

I cleared the frog from my throat and scooted forward on my chair. “Mrs. James is innocent,” I blurted when I couldn’t think of a way to sugarcoat it.

He leaned back in his chair, looking a little too high and mighty for my taste. At least Hoss McClaine had some down-home charm to him. Gavin had the down home, but lacked the charm. “That right? Did your”—he made air quotes—“special Cassidy intuition tell you that?”

I debated how to answer. From what he’d said at the jailhouse, I suspected Gavin knew something about the Cassidy women’s magic. What I didn’t know was how deep his knowledge went. Did he have an inkling that something was off with us, or had Mrs. Mcafferty or Mrs. James broken their pact with Nana and said something? I supposed Madelyn could have spilled the beans. I didn’t know her well, but she was one of the first friends I’d made back in Bliss. I hoped she’d kept my secret.

“Yes… and no,” I finally answered. “I don’t have any proof—”

“Without proof, what you think doesn’t mean diddly-squat.” He crossed one leg over the other, letting his knee flop to the side. His frown deepened. “But just so you know, we released her. Seems your grandmother and Miss June over at the teahouse ponied up an alibi.” He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Until we have some solid evidence and bring charges, the case against her’ll be dropped.”

The blood that had been coursing through my veins suddenly calmed. “Gee, Deputy, you look upset. I’m real sorry to hear your theory didn’t pan out,” I said, not bothering to suppress the smile in my voice.

“Yeah, I can see you’re all broken up about it.”

“Do you have any other leads?”

He dropped his leg and leaned forward. “You mean besides you?”

The blood that had calmed to a gentle flow burst through me again like a dam breaking. “Me?”

“Your scissors. I haven’t forgotten.”

“B-but…” Criminy. At least Mrs. James had a potential motive. I hadn’t even known the man.

“Blackmail,” he said, a smirk on his face.

The word spiraled through my head. “You think he was blackmailing me?”

“No, Harlow. Relax. Your damn scissors are a pain in my ass, but I don’t think you killed the guy. Blackmail, meaning Macon Vance was hittin’ the Jameses up for a hefty sum.”

“Oh!” I released the anxious breath I’d been holding. Damn him for scaring me like that.

“I’m just not sure what he had on them, and they’re not talkin’. But everybody’s got some dirty laundry, don’t they, Harlow? Even a senator and his wife. Even… you.”

There it was, the big ol’ white elephant in the room. What did he know, and how did he know it? “I don’t know what you mean, Gavin,” I said.

He dropped his knee again and leaned forward, steepling his fingers and propping his chin on them. “No matter how hard you try, it’s tough to keep things a secret in a small town.”

“And…?” I schooled my expression, doing my best to mask the fact that I had no idea what he was talking about, but my mind raced. “Gavin, if you have something to say, just spit it out, would you?”

He narrowed his eyes, and I could tell he was trying to read me. He angled his chair so he could drum his fingers on the desk. “We found a rough drawing of a family tree in Vance’s house,” he said. “It was right there. The intersection of two family lines. Butch Cassidy was with Etta Place around the same time he was with Texana Harlow.”

Gavin nodded, looking smug. “Seems our deceased golf pro, Macon Vance, was trying to blackmail the