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WYATT WAS, INDEED, ready for a snack. Beatrice found him in his book-covered office and it was easy to lure him out to the patio to pet Noo-noo and enjoy the muffins. There was a soft breeze rippling through the bushes and trees and it was lovely to be surrounded by nature on the small patio.
“How is everything going?” asked Wyatt. He grimaced. “I think I’ll be turning in early tonight after the shocks we experienced this morning.”
Beatrice said slowly, “It’s all going well. Miss Sissy was napping soundly when I left the Patchwork Cottage—she’d agree with you about the exhaustion relating to shock. Posy was keeping an eye on her. Then Meadow and I took Noo-noo out to the park for a walk.”
Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “You did? I know that’s not part of your usual routine with her. She must have loved it.”
“She did. But there was something of an ulterior motive, because Savannah and Georgia told me that Mae Thigpen always walks her dog at two o’clock there,” said Beatrice. She took a bite of a moist banana nut muffin.
“Mae Thigpen being interesting because of Ophelia?” asked Wyatt.
“That’s right. Ophelia had written her name down on that list of hers. I hadn’t realized the connection between the two of them, either,” said Beatrice. “I didn’t know that Ophelia was Mae’s aunt.”
Wyatt said, “Unfortunately, there wasn’t that much of a connection between them. That is, they’re related by blood, but they were never very close. I think that Ophelia, in particular, would have liked a closer relationship to Mae.”
Beatrice nodded. “Mae didn’t have many kind words for Ophelia, that’s for sure. She said that Ophelia dropped by her house even though Mae didn’t exactly make her feel welcome. And that Ophelia disapproved of her because she drank.”
Wyatt smiled. “That’s a bit ironic. I don’t believe that Ophelia was a teetotaler, herself.”
“She wasn’t—at least, that’s what Meadow said. And then there was the murder weapon,” said Beatrice. “I’d imagine that the wine bottle was handy for the murderer and not brought in by the killer.”
“Did Mae give you any other leads?” asked Wyatt.
“She said that Ophelia had quarreled with Violet Louise in the middle of Dappled Hills,” said Beatrice. “And on my way into the church, I saw Violet on her way out.”
Wyatt said, “She’s been at the church quite a bit recently. Not only has her attendance grown on Sundays, but I think she’s been helping out a lot with different activities.”
“And helping watch the kids in the nursery, too, apparently. It sounded as if part of it is to make some extra money, but part of it is also that she wants to be here and helping out.” Beatrice thought about this for a moment as she finished up her muffin. “She said that Ophelia was yelling at her for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign.”
Wyatt sighed. “That sounds likely to me. Ophelia did seem to be tracking various people’s indiscretions over the last five years or so. When I’d visit with her, she’d spend much of our visit trying to give a complete outline of everyone’s sins while I unsuccessfully tried redirecting her. It was a real obsession of hers.”
“No wonder she wasn’t very popular in town,” said Beatrice dryly. “Violet also mentioned that Ophelia had compared her to Lois Lee and that Lois may have had some sort of run-in with Ophelia. At least it doesn’t appear to have been at Piper and Ash’s reception.”
“So I suppose that Lois is going to be getting a visit from you, soon?” asked Wyatt with a smile.
“Actually, I’m going to give her a call after I leave because I have an excellent excuse. Piper had borrowed Lois’s punchbowl for the reception and tasked me with returning it to her. Maybe I can run it by before supper,” said Beatrice.
They laughed as Noo-noo glimpsed a squirrel in the enclosed courtyard and took off running after it, barking.
“It’s a good thing that I know her squirrel-hunting is completely futile,” said Beatrice.
Wyatt said in a teasing voice, “What would you do if she caught one?”
“What would she do if she caught one?” asked Beatrice. “She doesn’t exactly have a killer instinct. It’s all about the chase for her.” She took one last bite of her muffin and gave a satisfied sigh. “So, how’s it going with this week’s sermon?”
“Pretty well. I still want to add another illustration to it. But I don’t think I’ll be able to work on it more today since I need to run to Lenoir to check on the members who are hospitalized,” said Wyatt.
Beatrice called Noo-noo back over and put her leash back on. “That’s right. I’d forgotten that you needed to do that today. Or maybe I’d forgotten that today was still going on! It must be the longest day ever. This morning seems as though it were days ago.” She paused and added in a deliberately careless voice, “By the way, are there any plans to replace the church secretary?”
Wyatt said, “There was talk about it at the last session meeting, but nothing was decided. Some of the officers were hoping for a volunteer to step in, for budget reasons. Why, is something wrong?”
Beatrice made a face. “I think the officers might have made me the unofficial secretary.”
Wyatt frowned. “That wasn’t discussed. Besides, there’s no way that I’d let that happen. That’s not your job.”
“Apparently, about a week ago, my cell number was printed in the bulletin as a contact number for information,” said Beatrice.
Now it was Wyatt’s turn to make a face. “Oh, no.”
“I’m afraid so. I’ve had some calls about activities that I couldn’t answer. So that’s why I was asking,” said Beatrice.
“I’ll make sure that your number isn’t printed in the bulletin again, although the damage sounds as if it’s already been done,” said Wyatt with a sigh.
“Maybe I’ll only get a few more calls. But it would be great if the church could go ahead and start looking for a replacement for Miss Emily. I know she’s retired now and there’s no way she’s coming back,” said Beatrice.
Wyatt said thoughtfully, “Maybe if the session found someone who could work part-time.”
“As long as part-time is enough,” said Beatrice. “Miss Emily was a full-time worker and I don’t think she had much idle time at her desk, either. Anyway, it’s just something to think about.”
Wyatt leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “For sure. As I said before, that’s not your job.” Beatrice smiled at him.
They exchanged goodbyes and Beatrice took Noo-noo home and fed her, then picked up the phone and dialed Lois Lee.
“Hi, Lois? This is Beatrice. Piper asked me to get in touch with you about returning the punchbowl she borrowed. I could run it by now, if you wanted.”
Lois gave a relaxed laugh. “Well, there’s no real hurry to return it. I hardly use a punchbowl every day. In fact, I’m glad that the thing is able to get some real use. It was my mother’s and she handed it down to me thinking that I might be some sort of society matron or something. I’m sure she must be disappointed. Dappled Hills isn’t exactly ‘society.’”
“I know what you mean. How about if I bring it to you tomorrow, then?” asked Beatrice.
Lois said, “How about if I run by and pick it up? I probably need to get out of the house some. I’ve been making lesson plans for the start of school and am practically going cross-eyed over it.”
“That sounds great, if it isn’t any trouble,” said Beatrice. “Just let me know a time so that I can make sure I’m here.”
“Is ten o’clock too early?” asked Lois.
“Oh no. I’ll have been up for hours,” said Beatrice. “See you then.”
The rest of the day, Beatrice took it upon herself to try and relax. She’d been so keyed up from the murders that morning that she knew she’d never fall asleep if she didn’t make a conscious effort to wind down.
First, she picked up her book. For once, it was a title that Meadow had recommended, instead of Ramsay. Ramsay was fond of giving her challenging classic literature or poetry volumes, and with Piper’s wedding, Beatrice had known that she needed something a little easier to read. And, preferably, something inspirational. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn had fit the bill perfectly.
Wyatt came home with a vase of magnolia blossoms.
Beatrice carefully took them from him and set them down on the dining room table. She inhaled the delicate aroma. “Wyatt, these are amazing!”
He said, “I’d like to claim credit for these, but actually a member of our congregation came by and dropped them by the church—Glenda Goodwell. She picked them from the trees in her yard today and specifically asked me to bring them to you.”
Beatrice was slightly taken aback. She had only the faintest memory of Glenda ... and was very much afraid that she was actually confusing her with Emily Thompson. “That’s so nice of her. I wonder why.”
Wyatt said, “She said that she thought you might enjoy them. And that she wanted to thank you for all you’ve done at the church lately, despite planning Piper’s wedding and being a newlywed, yourself.”
Beatrice flushed. “That makes me feel a little guilty. I was just trying to offload a bunch of phone calls by asking that we hire someone.”
“But you have been doing a lot,” said Wyatt. “You visited every adult Sunday school class just to meet people and see what the class was like. You even served food during Youth to meet some of the younger members. And I know how hard you’ve been trying to remember everyone’s name, even though there are lots of members and you might not have the best memory for names.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” said Beatrice with a laugh. “Well ... thank you. And thanks to Glenda, too. I’ll give her a phone call tomorrow. You’ve both made me feel a lot better.”
Wyatt grinned at her. “And I have another surprise that will make you feel even better than that. My hands were too full to bring it in, but when I go back in the car, I’ll be bringing in a pan of lasagna from Juliet Winwood. And, I can promise you, her lasagnas are to die for.”
Beatrice felt as though she’d somehow won the lottery. “And how did we end up with such a wonderful gift? A gift that will keep me from having to warm up chicken and rice leftovers from several days ago?”
Wyatt said, “Just one of the perks of being a minister. She said that she always cooked several at once and gave them out and that she thought we might want an easy meal after all the busyness of the wedding.”
Juliet had been right about that. Beatrice was always a reluctant cook, and any time she had a night off from the kitchen felt like a cause for celebration. She poured them both glasses of red wine, and they talked and laughed and ate and drank and enjoyed their evening together.
Beatrice was startled to find daylight coming through the windows the next time she awakened, plus Noo-noo barking and a noise coming from the front of the cottage. “What’s that?” she asked sleepily.
Wyatt was already out of the bed and pulling on his robe. “It sounds like someone at the door,” he said, a concerned note in his voice. “Usually I get a phone call if anything’s really wrong.”
Beatrice groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She had the feeling that she would never get used to the odd hours that a minister worked. He’d been called out of the bed before, but only by phone, as he’d mentioned. Coming by and knocking on the door was something else. Although they did get a lot of unannounced visitors—something that Beatrice was trying to adapt to and accept.
But this time there was a two-time murderer running around. Beatrice pulled the covers back off her head and quickly got up, pulling on her own robe. “Be careful, Wyatt. Check to see who’s out there, first.”
Beatrice was in the living room when Wyatt turned around and gave her a rueful smile. “It’s Miss Sissy.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” groused Beatrice. “It’s far too early in the morning! And she’s been dropping by here all the time. You’ll have to stop being so kind and attentive, Wyatt. You’re like a magnet for Miss Sissy.”
He was, of course, already unlocking the door. “She had a rough day yesterday,” he reminded Beatrice quietly.
“We had a rough day yesterday!” said Beatrice.
Still, she managed a smile through somewhat gritted teeth when Miss Sissy, who looked even more discombobulated than she did yesterday, came in. Her hair was nearly completely out of what remained of the bun on her head. The deep wrinkles indicated that Miss Sissy had probably slept in the long floral dress that she was wearing. And she carried a large tote bag that seemed stuffed to the hilt. How she managed to lug the thing over here was a mystery to Beatrice, although Miss Sissy had always had a certain wiry strength.
Wyatt had always been fond of the old woman. “How are you doing, Miss Sissy? Did you have a nice day with Posy at the shop yesterday?”
Miss Sissy made a face and plopped down on their sofa. “Until the shop closed,” she spat out. She relented a little, saying gruffly, “Was nice to visit with Maisie. She curled up in my lap for a long time.”
Wyatt said, “Can we get you some coffee?”
Miss Sissy made even more of a face, as if the mere mention of coffee had offended her.
“How about breakfast?” asked Beatrice. She sighed, knowing she’d later regret offering food to the bottomless pit. “Have you eaten yet?”
Miss Sissy’s eyes brightened ravenously and she shook her head with vigor.
“I’ll make it,” said Wyatt quickly. “Beatrice, you just have a seat and spend a few minutes trying to wake up. I’ll bring coffee to you in a couple of minutes.”
Beatrice did sit down, but she was wide awake. She found her irritation at Miss Sissy dwindling as she saw how tired the old woman looked. There were circles under her eyes.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” asked Beatrice.
Miss Sissy thought about this for a moment and then shrugged. “Some. So-so.”
Beatrice studied her. She wondered if it would help Miss Sissy more to avoid the subject of the murders or to talk about it. She was about to cautiously attempt a vague reference when Miss Sissy suddenly spoke and took the decision away from her.
“Wickedness! Killing Ophelia!” said the old woman, a fiery look in her eye.
“It certainly was,” said Beatrice in a calming voice, “but we’re going to find out who was responsible. I know Ophelia was your friend.”
Miss Sissy’s eyes glistened with tears until she angrily swiped them away. “Find out.”
“We will. I’ve already spoken to a couple of people, trying to get information.” The smell of coffee perking came streaming through the kitchen.
“Who?” The old woman leaned in, searching Beatrice’s eyes sharply.
Beatrice figured it wouldn’t do any harm to tell her. After all, Beatrice wasn’t under any confidentiality agreements. “Mae Thigpen, for one.”
Miss Sissy snorted at this name. “Wicked.”
“Ophelia apparently found her so,” said Beatrice with a shrug. “Although I can’t quite see what she was getting at. Even Wyatt has wine from time to time and I don’t think he has a bit of wickedness in him.”
Wyatt, naturally, came in with the coffee at this point and gave Beatrice a bemused smile. She winked at him.
Miss Sissy said, “She is wicked!”
“Well, wicked or not, she doesn’t seem to have killed her aunt. At least, she claims she didn’t. She says that she was at home. Considering that’s how she spends most of her time, that doesn’t seem too surprising,” said Beatrice as Wyatt walked back into the kitchen to monitor what smelled like eggs scrambling.
“Wasn’t! Wasn’t at home!” yelled Miss Sissy.
Beatrice took a deep, restorative drink of her coffee. “What on earth do you mean? And how would you know? Wyatt and I picked you up early yesterday and you were at home.”
“Went to the store early. Saw her there. Mae!” hissed Miss Sissy.
“Are you sure?” pressed Beatrice. “It wasn’t the day before? Or another day?”
Now Miss Sissy rolled her eyes as if she was a teenager. “No!”
“Well, then, that’s very interesting,” said Beatrice, looking thoughtfully at Miss Sissy. “Did you come over to ... well, why did you come over?”
“Wasn’t time for the shop to open yet,” said Miss Sissy with a shrug.
“The Patchwork Cottage?” asked Beatrice.
The old woman nodded. “Don’t want to be alone this morning.”
Wyatt came back in, this time bearing two plates fairly heaving with eggs, sausage, biscuits, and bacon. “You don’t have to be alone,” he said kindly. “That’s what friends are for.”
Miss Sissy’s eyes gleamed at the food and she finally looked like her old self.
Beatrice said, “And remember, we have a guild meeting tomorrow afternoon. Posy will have her part-time worker there while she’s at the meeting. You’re going, aren’t you? Won’t that be something else to look forward to?”
“Will there be food?” asked Miss Sissy, her eyes glinting.
“I’m sure. It’s at Meadow’s house, this time.”
Miss Sissy grinned, revealing a gold tooth. Meadow’s cooking was as legendary as Miss Sissy’s appetite.
After they finished their breakfast, Beatrice groaned. “Now I feel as if I could go back to bed. That was a ton of food!”
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all,” said Wyatt.
“That was more than just breakfast, I think. That was sort of like Thanksgiving dinner,” said Beatrice. “But thanks for making it.”
Miss Sissy didn’t look a bit full and she’d even eaten some of Beatrice’s food. And now that she was done eating, she looked fidgety again.
Beatrice had an idea. “Do you know what you could help me do, Miss Sissy? Make Christmas gifts for Piper and Ash.”
Miss Sissy nodded. “Quilt?”
“Not a quilt this time, since I made them a quilt for their wedding. I’m making a tree skirt and stockings and it’s taking me a bit longer than I’d planned because I’ve picked it up and put it down so often. I’d thought I’d even make a table runner or dish towels if I had the time, but I’m starting to think that’s not going to happen. I have all the fabric, though, right here,” said Beatrice.
And that’s how the next couple of hours was spent. Miss Sissy took the tree skirt in hand and worked her deft magic as she quilted. Beatrice, who worked on one of the stockings, was delighted to see her finally relax.
Beatrice got so wound up in her work that she totally lost track of the time, which hardly ever happened to her. Wyatt got ready for work and left for the church with a bag lunch and she just muttered a goodbye. Miss Sissy didn’t even look up to say goodbye at all, so when the doorbell rang, Beatrice was startled. She looked at Miss Sissy with surprise.
“Visitor,” grunted the old woman.