forty-two

It was my missing key chain—minus Bing’s house key. I reached deeper into the drawer and clawed out dozens of keys. I tugged on a long tassel. It wouldn’t budge. A long thread was caught in the side of the drawer. I bent closer. The thread wasn’t snagged on the wood, it was attached to something under the drawer.

I pulled out the drawer and looked underneath. A creamy white envelope was taped to the bottom. Whoever had put it there had accidentally caught a tassel thread. I started to shut the drawer. I wasn’t a snoop. But I only hesitated a moment, then I grabbed the envelope, ripped open the seal, and pulled out a thick document with blue paper on each side. It crackled as I unfolded it. The letterhead belonged to a legal firm in Savannah, Georgia. Below this, I read Declaration of Irrevocable Trust.

My name was on the first line, Christine Bleuet Templeton, Trustor. But my middle name was spelled wrong. It wasn’t Bleuet, the French way, it was Bluette, like the color. I remembered Bing’s document—he’d been referred to as the trustor. And I’d been named trustee, along with a bank.

I skipped to the next line. Alice Eudora Wauford Jackson was named the trustee, bypassing the Bank of South Carolina as co-trustee.

I flipped through the pages. There were three copies, each one bearing my signature, only it wasn’t exactly my signature. Each document was signed and notarized by Natalie Lockhart.

Ava’s phone began to buzz violently. I picked it up and saw Coop’s name on the display panel. “Thank god it’s you,” I whispered.

“I called a minute ago,” he said. “Why didn’t you answer?”

“Never mind that. I’m at Miss Dora’s. Listen, I found my missing keys. And a fake trust. It’s got my name on it.”

“Where is she?”

“Downstairs.”

“Teeny, listen carefully. Get out of the house.”

“Didn’t you hear? I found a bogus trust.”

“Teeny, she killed Bing. Natalie woke up. She and Dora were in this together. But Natalie pulled a fast one, and Dora shot her. I’ll explain later. Get the hell out of her house. Now.”

“Okay, I’m going. Don’t hang up. Keep talking.” I looked around the room for a place to hide the document. “Coop, if something happens to me, I’m sticking the trust under the mattress. It’s in a bedroom on the second floor. All the rooms are pink, but this one has clouds on the ceiling.”

“Teeny, for god’s sake, go! If she tries to stop you, knock her in the head. She shot Natalie and poisoned Faye—she’ll kill you, too.”

“Wait.” I glanced in the purse. Ava didn’t have anything sharp. However, she had oodles of Splenda.

“No time to wait,” Coop said. “Don’t let her know you suspect her. Meet me at St. Philip’s Church. I’m on my way.” He clicked off.

I hurried down the back staircase and paused on the bottom step, then I dropped the phone into the bag. Miss Dora stood in the hall, primping in front of a gilt mirror. If she was planning to kill me, she’d gotten all spiffed up for it. She’d put on pink leather pumps, and a large straw bag dangled from her arm.

“There you are.” She smiled at her reflection, then her gaze moved to me. “Love the hat. We have a slight problem. The Bentley’s air conditioner isn’t working. So I’m trying to reach Estaurado.”

I gripped the banister. This was just the delay I needed. I looked past her at the door. Could I run for it?

She gave me the sweetest look, and I began to wonder if Coop was wrong. Hadn’t the police been wrong about me? She’d been in Savannah when Bing was murdered. And she’d been in Sumter when Natalie and Faye were shot. Maybe she paid Estaurado to kill them? Maybe that’s why she needed him now?

Her smile broadened without a hint of irritation, but she was giving off suspicious vibes. “Is anything wrong?” she asked.

“Miss Dora, I hate to ask, but could I please have something cool to drink? I’m just parched.” I let go of the banister and stepped down. Everywhere I looked I saw weapons: heavy silver candlesticks, paperweights, clocks, bookends.

“Why, certainly.” She turned toward the kitchen and caught my arm. “Come with me, darlin’. You can help.”

I pulled away from her and ran to the door. I turned the knob. It wouldn’t budge.

“Darlin’, it’s locked.” She stepped closer.

“I just wanted to see if any police cars were out there,” I said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Now isn’t the time to get paranoid.” She took my hand and pulled me to the kitchen.

“While I’m calling that damn Estaurado, why don’t you fix us some mimosas?” She opened a massive refrigerator with a glass door and pulled out orange juice and a bottle of champagne. The champagne had been previously opened, and the plastic cork made a whoosh when she twisted it off. Standing on her tiptoes, she opened a cabinet and pulled out two oversized martini glasses.

“Make us big fat drinks, darlin’.” She lifted the portable phone, punched in numbers, and stepped into the butler’s pantry, blocking my exit.

I reached into Ava’s purse and grabbed the Splenda packets. I ripped them open and shook the contents into a pitcher. White powder drifted up, sticking to the sides of the glass. My hands trembled as I stuffed the empty packets back into the purse. Then I tipped the orange juice carton over the pitcher. What if she tasted the artificial sweetener? Where did she keep her sugar?

Next to the coffeepot, I saw three pottery canisters labeled sugar, flour, coffee. The lids rattled as I peeked inside. Empty. All for show. I spotted a sugar bowl on the other side of the coffeepot. I dumped some into the pitcher and grabbed a wire whisk. I stirred the juice while slowly adding the champagne. Bubbles curved along the sides of the pitcher, moving like tiny waterspouts.

I filled the wide glasses, grateful she’d chosen them, so she’d get the maximum dose. I lifted a glass and took a sip. Sweet, tart, and effervescent. I didn’t detect the Splenda. Wait, had I added enough?

“That damned Estaurado won’t answer,” Miss Dora said, stepping into the room. “He’s probably watching The View. He’s addicted to it. And after that, he watches All My Children.”

I slipped my hand from the purse and handed her a glass. I glanced along the counter and saw a Splenda packet next to the sugar bowl. I cupped my hand over it and balled up the paper. She drained her glass, then twirled her finger, signaling for a refill.

“Aren’t you going to join me, dear?” she asked.

“Totally.” Keeping my hand closed, I refilled her glass.

A girlish, twittery laugh bubbled from her throat. She winked. “I don’t want to be half-looped when we start our little adventure, do you?”

“No, ma’am.” I lifted my glass, took a sip, then set the glass down.

Miss Dora’s portable phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID display and said, “It’s the Spanish bastard.” She pressed the phone to her cheek. “Finally!” she cried. “Where have you been?”

Her eyes switched back and forth. I slid my hand behind the coffeepot and dropped the yellow fragment.

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said. “Never mind. I need you to bring your car around. And I need you to do it now.” She paused. “No, not after All My Children, now.”

She clicked off and pointed to my glass. “May I?”

I nodded. Perfect.

She emptied the glass in four swallows. Then, as she poured a refill, she nodded at me. “Teeny, you need to lower that hat. Somebody could recognize you.”

She started toward the butler’s pantry. The kitchen had two sets of French doors. I ran to the first set and jiggled the knob. The door wouldn’t budge. Then I saw the lock. It was the kind with a keyhole on both sides. I looked around for a key—most people kept them nearby in case of fire, but not Miss Dora. Apparently, she was fireproof.

I ran to the other door and jiggled the knob. Locked. I looked up. A key hung over the door, dangling from a hot pink tassel. I reached up, but Miss Dora’s voice stopped me.

“Step away from the door, Teeny,” she said. “And turn around slowly.”