Free Drop Dead Divas by Virginia Brown Page B

“I am so sorry. Merlin has little tolerance for strange dogs. I should have warned you. I just didn’t think Chen Ling would get too close to him.”
    “Well, there’s no blood so I’m sure she’ll be fine eventually. Though I do think she may have been traumatized.”
    Safe now in Bitty’s arms, Chen Ling revealed the depth of her trauma by looking down at Merlin and growling. Then she started barking, shrill yaps that billowed around the lobby all the way up to the domed skylight. I touched my ears to see if they were bleeding yet, while Bitty tried to get the dog to hush.
    After a moment, Gaynelle intervened. “Do be quiet,” she said to Chen Ling, and the startled pug stopped barking. Not bad, I thought. She could give the Dog Whisperer a run for his money.
    “Bitty, have you read The South Reporter today?” Gaynelle demanded, and when Bitty shook her head, I had a sinking feeling we were about to hear something dreadful. I was right.
    “Here.” Gaynelle thrust the paper toward her. “Read Miranda’s Musings .”
    “You mean Miranda’s tell-all column. What on earth has she managed to get into print now?”
    Bitty took the paper. It had been folded, so the column was on top for easier reading. As she read, Bitty’s face took on an odd hue, somewhere between raspberry and purple. It was not a very complimentary shade. When she looked up, her eyes glinted like steel daggers.
    “That bitch! “
    Since she’d crumpled the paper in one hand as she snarled, I snatched it away so I could read it. Rayna crowded close behind me as I read aloud:
    “’Trina Madewell reports that she was invited to a Dixie Diva meeting this week. As the Divas rarely invite outsiders to their meetings, Miss Madewell felt especially honored to be invited by the Queen Bee herself, one Bitty Hollandale. Mrs. Hollandale, you may recall, was divorced from the late Mississippi senator Philip Hollandale, who was found murdered a few months ago in his ex-wife’s wine cellar. Although arrested for his murder, Mrs. Hollandale was released the same day through the efforts of Jackson Lee Brunetti, her attorney. Brunetti and Brunetti is a well-respected Holly Springs’ firm with offices in Memphis as well as Mississippi. Since that time, Mr. Brunetti and Mrs. Hollandale have been seen around Holly Springs enjoying late-night dinners together.’”
    I paused and looked up. Bitty had gone quiet. Too quiet. Gaynelle watched her closely as if expecting an eruption, and I noticed that Rayna's cats had all left the room like rats from a sinking ship. This was gonna be bad, I told myself, and prepared for the worst as I continued to read. My voice got lower, not that it mattered. Gaynelle and Bitty had already read it, and Rayna was still leaning over my shoulder.
    “But back to the Dixie Divas. Miss Madewell arrived promptly for the meeting, and they were soon joined by other members of this secretive club. For those of my readers who have long wondered if these meetings are just polite socials, let me be the first to inform you—they are anything but polite.
    “Instead of tea, Mrs. Hollandale served whiskey in an elegant antique teapot that had to cost a small fortune. Do not be envious, dear readers, for in the ensuing drunken brawl that erupted between the members of the Dixie Divas, that precious antique teapot was shattered, as were Miss Madewell’s nerves. When she fled Six Chimneys, all the Divas were flinging canapés and mixed nuts at one another, while a terrible shrieking filled that lovely antebellum home. It is with great sadness that I report the mystery that once surrounded what many of us in Holly Springs assumed was a ladies club has now been solved. These women are obviously no ladies. I have some advice for the members of this decadent club: Drop dead, Divas!’”
    Silence fell as I finished reading. I swear, not even Chitling made a sound. It was eerie. I folded the paper over again and cleared my throat.
    “Oh my,”