Page 83 of Murder By the Millions
Darcy meowed.
“Yes, buddy.” I cooed. “I’ll let you out in a sec.”
Tegan raised the two glasses of wine. “Allie, our drinks are getting warm. See you, Patrick. Nice job on the office.”
As I was unpacking Darcy from his carrier—he’d visited the inn before and knew to stay put in the garden room—Noeline sauntered in.
“I meant to tell you, ladies, I’ve received yeses from all the invitees for theGatsbyevent.”
“I figured,” Tegan said. “We sold out of the second batch of books.”
“Also I scored the most romantic flapper dress ever,” Noeline continued. “Lillian discovered it among the theater costumes. Cobalt blue with lots of sequins and bling.” She used her hands to describe it. “How are your plans coming along?”
“I did some taste testing.” I listed what I’d made so far. “I have more to do tonight, meaning I’m not staying after dinner.”
Tegan tapped my arm. “Give me a ride home when you leave? I need to tend to the snails in the garden.”
“Snails?” her mother exclaimed.
“Yes, the garden needs tweaking.” When Marigold died, Tegan had inherited half of her house. She’d purchased the other half from Vanna. After starting the divorce proceedings, she had moved into the house and now was spending as much time as she could sprucing up the garden and the interior. Marigold had kept her home in pristine shape, but Tegan was updating the bathrooms and the counters in the kitchen. “Who knew I was such a DIY person?”
“Are you overextending yourself?” Noeline asked, concerned.
“Moi? No! You, on the other hand—”
“No. Uh-uh.” Noeline wagged her head. “You are not going to talk me out of buying another bed-and-breakfast. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me I need more joy in my life? Well, a new project will bring me great delight. End of discussion.” She marched away.
“Sheesh.” Tegan exhaled. “She can be so stubborn.”
I bit back a smile. I felt the same about Fern. And hadn’t Finette said all the women in her family were intractable?
We retreated to the garden and sat on a bench beneath a blossoming white crape myrtle to enjoy our wine. The aroma from a stand of roses to the left was heady.
After a long moment, Tegan said, “Patrick …” but didn’t continue.
“What about him?”
“He clearly didn’t swallow that we’d asked his friend about the bats or the secret entrance to the cave. Do you think we should be worried?”
“Why?”
“If he’s the killer and he thinks we’re nosing around … I mean, he went to jail for assault, and …” She sipped her wine. “Will he go after us?”
“Relax. He doesn’t know we discovered all that.”
“But he might have guessed we didn’t find evidence of him being at the caverns, meaning we know he lied.”
“Yoo-hoo.” Vanna swanned outside, her heels digging into the grass, making it impossible for her to make a smooth entrance. She was carrying a glass of wine, which was sloshing over the rim. When she reached us, she sipped her wine and shook off her wet hand. “I had such a fruitful day.”
“What did you do?” Tegan asked.
“I met with the mayor to talk about another private party, because the one I threw was such a success.”
“Congratulations,” I said.
“Afterward, I met with the alderman on the town council, who also wants me to hostess a party. It sure pays to know people in high places.”
Tegan and I exchanged a look. Vanna couldn’t help herself. She liked to crow about her accomplishments.
