Page 15 of Deeper Than the Dead

Vera didn’t dare say that part out loud.

If someone else knew ... they would hear about it soon enough.

6

Boyett Farm

Good Hollow Road, Fayetteville, 8:00 p.m.

“We had to come.” The older woman, Florence Higdon, thrust the covered casserole dish she held at Vera. “It’s the least we can do,” she assured her with all the humility a woman who possessed none might fake.

Vera managed a smile. “Thank you. Really, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

“Pop it in the microwave for a minute before serving,” Beatrice Fraley chimed in. She stood in the doorway next to Higdon, her lifelong friend.

Vera’s face hurt from holding the smile in place. “I’ll remember that. Thank you as well, Mrs. Fraley.”

“You should call me Beatrice, Vee.” She smiled, the expression weary, maybe a little sad.

Vera gave her a nod. “Beatrice.”

“It’s an old family recipe,” Florence put in. “Trust me, y’all will love it.”

If she had a million dollars, Vera would bet every cent of it that Beatrice—retired fifth-grade teacher and wife of the now-retired sheriff—had prepared the offering. These two and Vera’s mother had been friends back in the day, and her mother always said that Florence loved to gossip and to take credit for what others did, while Beatrice loved to teach and to try new recipes.

“I’m sure we will,” Vera agreed.

“We’re anxious to see Luna,” Florence said. “I hope she’s holding up all right.”

Now Vera was confused. Florence Higdon, in addition to being the wife of the longtime Lincoln County medical examiner, Dr. Charles Higdon, was the director of the library—Luna’s soon-to-retire boss.

“Didn’t you see her at the library today?” Vera was under the impression Luna had gone to work this morning.

“Oh no. I had the day off,” Florence explained with a shake of her head so adamant that her towering southern-belle hairdo moved, despite the half a bottle of hair spray that had no doubt been showered upon it. “I’ve been worried sick since Charles told me what they’d found.”

“I’m afraid Luna isn’t here.” Vera mentally crossed her fingers. No need for them to linger in light of that news. “She’s out with Jerome and his family tonight. But I’ll let her know you came by.”

Florence’s face lit with renewed enthusiasm. “We won’t worry about Luna then. We’ll just come in and visit with you and Eve for a spell. Why, I haven’t seen you in ages, Vera Mae.”

“Where are my manners?” Vera backed up and allowed the ladies inside. She felt ill with the idea of how the next half hour—or God forbid, hour—would go. But then she shouldn’t be surprised. Florence would be fishing for juicy tidbits to pass along to her grapevine. The woman hadn’t been called “the Radio” her whole adult life for nothing.

“We won’t stay long,” Beatrice promised, while Florence hurried on down the hall.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you,” Vera assured her former teacher. Then, to include her friend, she amended, “y’all.”

Vera followed the two and wished that Eve hadn’t gone to her room for her cell phone charger. If she realized they had company, she would stay hidden until the two were gone.

Just Vera’s luck.

Oddly, Florence had bypassed the living room and stationed herself in the library. At the door, Vera paused. “I’ll just put this in the kitchen.”

Florence waved her permission without a glance in Vera’s direction. She was too busy surveying the room. Beatrice had perched on the edge of a chair, hands braced on the purse in her lap.

All Vera wanted was for this day to end. She left the casserole on the table and used the phone on the wall to call Eve’s cell. Of course it went to voicemail, damn it. “You better get down here and rescue me.” Then she hung up, took a breath, and returned to the library.

For the next fifteen minutes Florence effused about poor Luna. Blessed her poor little heart at least a dozen times. She did this even as she slowly perused the shelves around the room. Beatrice nodded her agreement with all that poured out of her friend. The way the two took their cues from each other was like watching a comedy act, only nothing about it was funny.

“But you’re here now, Vera,” Beatrice threw in. “Luna will be fine. I’m certain you’ll take care of everything just as you always have.”

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