Free 0451416325 by Heather Blake

smidgen of ill will toward the man.”
    Shocked, I said, “What?”
    “I’m personally offended that he has never shown an inkling of interest in moi .” She preened and batted her eyelashes. “Choosing to date Hyacinth Foster shows a distinct lack of good taste on his part. Perhaps, he’s had a death wish all along. Everyone knows the rumors about her former husbands. He might very well be alive right this moment if he had only looked my way. God rest his soul.”
    Eulalie had never lacked for ego.
    She finished her coffee. “No matter what potential relationship there was or wasn’t between Avery and Haywood, Avery’s tears have broken my heart. I know you’re in the midst of hibernating and all, but I was hoping you could sneak over for a visit with her, read her energy. If anyone is in need of a healing potion, it’s her.”
    I wasn’t buying her broken heart nonsense. Eulalie wanted to know what was going on between Avery and Haywood.
    Truthfully, I wanted to know, too. Not only because I was nosy, but because I could easily recall the desperation in Dylan’s voice the last time I spoke to him. He needed to find another suspect to take the heat off his mother. Perhaps if I could help find that person it would go a long way to bridging the gap between Patricia and me.
    If you want Dylan you have to figure out a way to make nice with Patricia.
    My daddy was a wise man.
    With any luck the mysterious Avery Bryan might have some insight into Haywood’s life that she wouldn’t mind sharing. “Okay. Later, though. I have to go out with Dylan for a bit.”
    Eulalie clasped her hands in glee. “Perfect! She went out for a walk a little bit ago, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon. I’ll call as soon as she comes through the door.”
    She gave my hands a squeeze and headed for the door, her skirt swaying and her heels clacking.
    As I watched her go, I thought about Haywood. Whether or not he was having an affair, it was becoming clear that he had been keeping some secrets.
    Rounding up a few more suspects was just a matter of discovering who had known those secrets . . . and if Haywood had been killed because of them.

Chapter Seven
    H aywood Dodd had lived in a pretty teal green Queen Anne–style house that had a wraparound porch with beautifully crafted spindles and posts, a turret, and a big Palladian window on the first floor.
    His landscaping was meticulously tended, the shrubs sculpted just so, the lawn cut to the perfect height. Despite the rain and the chill in the air, the pansies and mums that lined the front walkway were bright and cheerful.
    There were only two items glaringly out of place in the serene setting: The yellow crime tape on the front door . . . and me.
    I paced the length of sidewalk along the tree-lined lane, rain pinging off my polka-dotted umbrella as I waited for Dylan to arrive. He’d called and said he was running late and asked me to meet him here. I’d decided to take my chances and walk over instead of driving, which might have raised the suspicions of the neighbors with my Jeep parked in front of Haywood’s.
    It was a decision I regretted. Turned out Dylan was running later than he thought, and I’d been waiting for close to ten minutes now.
    Out here in the open.
    I’d already spotted the ghost of Virgil Keane, who’d been a manager at the Pig before he’d died last spring. As he wandered by, I maintained my distance and he kept on going, seemingly oblivious to my presence. He appeared to be searching for something, but I certainly wasn’t going to ask what. Nope. I was going to stay on my side of the street, tucked under my umbrella and hiding behind my sunglasses.
    I still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Haywood this morning, but every time I passed in front of his house, my head faintly ached, so I surmised he was inside surveying the damage done during the break-in, just as I had suspected.
    As I made my eighth pass down the street, I spotted someone bundled