Free Pecan Pies and Homicides by Ellery Adams Page A

to Eira.
    Time worked differently inside the grove. On previous occasions, Ella Mae had spent hours with her mother only to find that on the other side of the rock wall, she’d been gone for a less than fifteen minutes. Now, she wondered what was going on out there. Had the police arrived? Was the coroner examining Eira? Were they taking photographs of the body in situ, the camera flashes lighting up the dark woods, forcing the shadows to retreat for the moment?
    Ella Mae felt something land on the back of her neck. Reaching up to touch the spot, her fingers closed around a silky smooth rose petal. More petals fell about her head and shoulders, brushing against her brow and cheeks and hands. Each one felt like a warm kiss. Her mother was trying to comfort her.
    It’s not enough.
The thought escaped unbidden.
I need you back and I know how to free you. There’s a magical flower at the bottom of Lake Havenwood. I just have to figure out exactly where it is and how to get it.
    The branches of the ash tree whipped around as if caught in a high wind. Ella Mae knew that this was her mother’s way of saying no. The petals swirled feverishly, twisting on frantic eddies of air until they looked like massive snowflakes.
    Call the butterflies,
her mother commanded. Her branches stopped moving and the roses blooming around the glade folded into tight buds. The tree had taken over, forcing the woman inside into a twilight sleep.
    Ella Mae knew better than to plead with her not to go. In the beginning, she’d been so frightened by the abruptness with which her mother’s presence vanished that she used to rage at the tree, beating its trunk and crying, terrified that her mother was gone for good. And though she always returned, Ella Mae noticed that her mother’s sentences were growing shorter and shorter with each passing visit. By the next harvest, she would be able to speak to her daughter only once a season.
    Picking up one of the white petals, Ella Mae curled her fingers into a fist. Her mother’s advice made no sense. Ella Mae had learned months ago that she could see through the eyes of any moth or butterfly, but there were no such creatures in Havenwood during the winter.
    â€œWhat could they show me anyway? Who came here with Eira? Who torched the Tennessee grove? What monster guards the Flower of Life? That would certainly be useful.” She looked down at the crumpled petal, which rested just above her clover-shaped burn scar. Pushing down on the smooth, puckered skin, she cast a final glance at the ash tree and then returned to the orchard. She’d walked past two neat rows of ancient trees when she ran into Reba.
    â€œIt’s over,” Reba said. “Your aunts are with the cops. Verena’s already planted a seed that Eira’s husband wasn’t exactly the kind and gentle sort, so they’ll be askin’ him plenty of questions tonight.”
    Ella Mae shook her head sadly. “What if that’s not enough? What if they only see Robert Morgan as an influential businessman in town to look at property? What if he spins a bunch of lies about Eira or claims that she was unstable? Will the cops still insist on a full investigation? With the winter carnival approaching, I could see them wanting to hush this up to maintain the illusion that Havenwood is a safe place . . . a place that is on the verge of welcoming hundreds of tourists.”
    Reba snorted. “Are you forgettin’ who the mayor is? If Verena doesn’t plan on lettin’ this girl’s death go unnoticed than neither will your uncle Buddy.” She put a hand on Ella Mae’s arm. “You should have seen Verena out there tonight, Ella Mae. She made up this wild story about how we all come up here every year for a sunset ritual. She told them we each write down our New Year’s resolution on a leaf. And then we send the leaf off on the wind.” She smiled. “The cops looked