On Sunday morning, I got up and went to an early church service. Even on days when I wasn’t scrambling to cram five million things into a twenty-four-hour period, I preferred the early services. They weren’t nearly as crowded as the mid-morning ones. I also found that I got a lot more accomplished when the service was over. When I was young, my grandmother used to say going to the earliest service was putting God first, and if I did that, He would help me with the rest of my day. As I’ve gotten older, I suspect that it’s because the eleven a.m. service cuts into the day. Regardless of the reason, it worked. By noon, I had gone to church, visited the grocery store, eaten breakfast, and gotten dinner started in my slow cooker before I headed out to the airport to pick up David.
My youngest, David, was in his early twenties, slender, with curly dark hair. He walked out of the airport, and I quickly pulled over to the curb and popped the back hatch of my SUV, waving frantically to get his attention.
He spotted me and hurried over, tossed in his backpack, and pressed the button that lowered the door. He gave me a hug. “Mom, it’s great to see you. Thanks for letting me crash.”
I stood slightly confused. “I know with all of your traveling you’ve learned to pack light, but surely you have more luggage than that?”
He shook his head. “Most of my clothes were ruined by the flood.”
Airport security circled, and we hurried to get in the car.
I pulled away from the curb. “You’re taking the loss of your clothes pretty well.”
He shrugged. “Thankfully, it’s covered by insurance. Madison’s going to help me replenish my wardrobe, so . . . I’m going to look at it as a ‘shoppertunity.’”
David proclaimed himself to be on the verge of starvation, so I stopped at a local restaurant before going home.
Once settled at the restaurant, we placed our orders, and I got updated on his performances and upcoming plans. For most of his life, David had longed for a career on the stage. Despite the pressure applied by my late husband to convince him to go into a “reasonable” career, he followed his heart and pursued his dream. Against the odds, he’d found success and was doing extremely well. As I listened to him talk about commercials, small parts on television programs, and his current successful show, I was filled with pride and a bit of sadness. I was, of course, thankful that he was doing well. However, I also knew that David’s success meant he would never be content to live anywhere outside of a bustling metropolis like New York or Los Angeles.
Our food arrived, and we made short work of it. David asked about the open house. He liked Red, but he knew I was nervous about meeting his large family. I was grateful he and Stephanie would both be there for moral support.
“What’s this I hear about a murder at your dog club?”
I quickly told him about Naomi Keller’s murder.
“So, are you going to get out your deerstalker and tackle another mystery?”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? You’ve solved several murders, and I’m sure Red would appreciate the help.”
“I’m sure Red would prefer if I didn’t get involved and left sleuthing to the professionals.”
He chuckled. “That never stopped you before.”
I thought about that. “This is different. I didn’t know Naomi Keller, and I didn’t like what little I did know. Besides, I have my hands full with preparing to close on my house, planning a housewarming party, getting ready to compete in my first obedience trial, and meeting my boyfriend’s family.”
David sipped his sweet tea and smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing. All of that is true, but . . .”
“But what?”
“But I know my mom, and I don’t think you will be able to leave a mystery unsolved.”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d agree with you.”
“What’s so abnormal about these circumstances? Apart from Dad, you didn’t know most of the other people who were murdered.”
“No, but in those cases, the police were concentrated on either me or someone I care about.” I shook myself to ward off the heaviness that had descended over me like a cloak. “This time’s different. All of my friends are above suspicion.” I glanced up at David, and my motherly instincts kicked in. “Wait, what have you heard?”
David did a masterful job of avoiding eye contact, but I waited. If nothing else, I knew my son wouldn’t be able to allow the silence to lag. Eventually, he began cracking his knuckles and tapping his fingers on the table, a sure sign he was nervous. “Nothing.”
I stared at him and allowed the silence to drag on.
When the silence was too much, he caved. He leaned forward and whispered as though he were about to pass along confidential government secrets. “Okay, but I was sworn to secrecy, and if Madison knows I told, then . . . she won’t trust me.”
I reached across and patted his hand. “I’m your mother. Anything you tell me is safe.”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t think Red is included in this, but she said Aunt Dixie was one of the top suspects.”
“Dixie? You have got to be kidding me. Dixie would never hurt anyone.”
He flapped his hands to shush me and looked around. I assumed he was checking to see if any TBI officers just happened to be sitting nearby and were monitoring our conversation.
“Dixie is the kindest, nicest, most peace-loving person,” I said. “Okay, so she might have decked Naomi Keller, but that woman totally deserved it. She actually hurt Chyna.” I huffed and tried to collect my thoughts. “And she might have threatened to strangle her . . .” I put my head in my hands. “Oh, God.”
“In front of witnesses,” David added.
“In front of a lot of witnesses, but . . . well, she was angry, and Naomi Keller was a horrid woman.” I leaned forward. “You know she disqualified Dixie’s entire class simply because she was angry at her . . . oh my.” This was just getting worse and worse.
David nodded. “Because they had a history.”
I tried to think, but my thoughts were racing in every direction. “But, surely, Red couldn’t possibly—”
He shook his head. “Red absolutely does not believe Aunt Dixie murdered her, but . . . well . . .”
I read his thoughts, which were written all over his face. “But they think Red is biased because of me.”
He nodded slowly.
“But Naomi Keller was a terrible person. There were tons of people who probably wanted to kill her.” I ticked the names off one by one. “Her stepdaughter staged a protest and threw syrup on her. She was having an affair with June Vannover’s husband, and June had threatened her. Plus, her husband was there and, well, if he didn’t know his wife was having an affair before, he absolutely knew about it after June finished.”
“I know, and Madison said Red mentioned all of that to his bosses at the TBI, but . . . they were concerned about his objectivity because . . .”
“Because of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at my son and realized none of this was his fault. In fact, if he hadn’t told me, I doubt that Red would have. “Honey, I really do appreciate you telling me. I know it had to be hard for you.” I patted his hand. “At least now I know what I have to do.”
“What?”
“Whether I liked her or not, I have to figure out who murdered Naomi Keller.”