One of Nana’s quotes rang in my ears at the change in Miranda’s amicable expression. “Never believe blondes, natural or bottled, are as dumb as the jokes suggest.”

“Thanks, Ms. Montgomery.” Miranda regained her composure, and the veil of our newfound camaraderie shred in two. “I think our interview is over.” She flung an arm into the doorway, indicating she meant what she said. “I trust you’ve got all you need for your article, and the rest is none of your business.”

“I appreciate the time you’ve given me, and I’ll be sure and notify you when it’s published.” I dug in my purse for a business card and handed it to her. “Please call me if you think of anything else you’d like to add.” Like, maybe you killed your ex-husband.

Information swirled in my mind like leaves in a whirlwind. I hurried down the street, and the more I thought about it, the more her hostile attitude disturbed me. There was little doubt in my mind that the angelic Miranda harbored enough hate within to kill her ex-husband. Not only did Miranda have a motive for killing John, but his girlfriend did, too.

I knew what it felt like to be an outraged ex first hand. But I never imagined actually carrying out my fantasies. Was either one of these women capable of murder?

I stepped inside the sheriff’s department and an office door opened. Dee Dee rushed out with Sheriff Wheeler close behind. Her expression brightened as soon as she saw me.

The sheriff followed her to where I stood. “Ms. Lamont, thank you for your time. We’ll let you know if we need anything more.” He turned towards me with a lingering gaze, “How are you doing Ms. Montgomery?”

“P-please call me Trixie,” I reminded him, pushing down that overpowering urge to flirt when I was around him. With his good looks and southern charm, he was probably used to women fawning over him. After all, he was the enemy, and everyone knows you don’t fraternize with the enemy. Or was it, “keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?”

He rewarded me with a beatific grin, and I continued, “Considering the circumstances, I could be worse.” I plowed right ahead. “By the way, have you started looking at other suspects? I have reason to believe John Tatum made more than one enemy along the way. Some say that having an angry ex-wife and an angrier ex-girlfriend could present a sticky situation.”

“And how did you come up with this information?” He looked me square in the eyes. “I hope you’re not interfering in this investigation.” He placed a warm, but warning hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the door. “You have my pledge I’ll follow any and every lead I believe important to this case. That’s what I’m trained to do.”

We said our good-byes, and I firmly shut the door - maybe a bit firmer than necessary.

“Oh Trixie, it was awful.” Dee Dee pulled out a ragged tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

“Sheriff Wheeler and Deputy Ray grilled me, then they left me alone with that GBI man.” The tissue was used for a makeshift hanky. She blew her nose and discarded it in a nearby trashcan. “Good grief, I didn’t even know the dead guy.”

I squeezed Dee Dee’s arm for reassurance. “I think they’re trying to make the puzzle pieces fit where they don’t belong.”

“That makes sense,” Dee Dee nodded. “I might have discovered a reason why the sheriff wants to solve this case in such a hurry. I overheard him talking to Agent Cornwall. The sheriff wants to retire soon and run for Mayor. He said, ‘It’ll be great to have this case closed by the time I leave office.’ Can you believe that?” Dee Dee plopped down on a bench and removed her shoe. She shook it and a small pebble fell out.

I sat down beside her and people watched a long moment, gathering my thoughts. The crowd was growing and, shortly, the streets and sidewalks would be wall-to-wall people. I leaned my cane on the wooden bench, but it slid off and onto the pavement. I let it lay there for the time being.

We sat quietly watching the throng of excited passers-by. Was Jake Wheeler trying to pin Tatum’s murder on Dee Dee? I didn’t want to believe this attractive man would use Dee Dee as a scapegoat.

“Dee, it makes perfect sense.” I poked her knee and she started. “No wonder he focused on you from the beginning. In his mind, this was an open and shut case from the time he saw you standing there with Tatum’s blood on your hands. It doesn’t hurt that you’re an out-of-towner. Don’t want to offend too many locals who vote.”

This put a new perspective on the situation. Would the sheriff cover all the bases? Possibly, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I had to continue my own investigation.

Chapter Eleven

My stomach growled like a lion, and we both laughed. “Come on Dee. Let’s get something to eat.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day,” Dee Dee rooted in her gigantean shoulder bag. She pulled out her favorite “Ruby’s Red” lipstick, painted on a fresh coat, stood up, and readjusted her clothes. “Let’s walk around the square and see if we can find a nice café that isn’t too crowded.”

The smell of funnel cake and other fried foods, along with the squeals of children in the park, bombarded my senses. Smiles and excitement glowed on the faces of the tourists. I fought the little stab of jealousy mixed with a scoop of anger, thinking, If Dee Dee wasn’t under a cloud of suspicion, we’d be smiling, too.

We decided on a cute little sandwich shop: The Victorian Tea Room. The motif catered to women, and I blinked at the ladies in large hats sipping from bone china and nibbling on crustless sandwiches on the other side of the plate glass window.

“Would you look at this? Isn’t it unique, Trix?” Dee Dee fingered a veiled hat on the wall, obviously itching to try it on.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tea room quite like this.” Old-fashioned hats and shawls hung from the walls with an invitation to wear them. A few of the guests had donned the fancy attire and were taking pictures of each other. Tables decked in lace tablecloths were covered with hand painted china, reminiscent of my grandmother’s house.

A cute young girl in her early twenties, short brown hair streaked with purple, and earrings in places I wouldn’t dream of piercing, showed us to our table. The menu consisted of food destined to win a girl’s heart, and stomach. Sandwiches, fresh fruit, scones and muffins made up the lunch cuisine. We chose the chicken salad sandwich on a croissant. For dessert: fresh strawberries covered in brandy sauce and topped with whipped cream.

Hot Cinnamon Spice and Peach tea sat on the table in individual teapots. The cinnamon flavor floated in the air like magnolia in the evening. My nostrils filled with the heavenly scent as we doctored our tea, and then settled back to talk.

Before the swish of a lamb’s tail, the waitress brought our sandwiches. The crust on the croissant resembled homemade piecrust; it did a buttery dance across my taste buds. We managed to enjoy our food, despite being stressed.

I started on my fresh fruit, savoring every bite, when the jingle of the doorbell drew my attention towards the door. “Oh, no!” I whispered.

As soon as Miranda walked in, the chef barreled through the kitchen doors and hurried to her side. They conferred for a moment, and then he went back into the kitchen. She stood ramrod straight as she gazed around the room. Her face gave away nothing, that was, until she caught my eye. Her fiery eyes shot daggers.

The chef returned, laden with several bags, and handed them to her. She turned on her heels and clicked out of the café without so much as a nod.

“Good grief. If looks could kill, I believe we’d be dead.” Dee Dee turned around in her lattice chair from watching the scene. “Who was that?”