Deadly Patterns by Melissa Bourbon

Author:Melissa Bourbon
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2012-09-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

My position in the town’s hierarchy was somewhere between that of a ranch hand out on FM Road 31 and Josie’s new role as wife to one of Bliss’s favorite sons. And I was happy with that. I felt comfortable flying under the radar. All of the Cassidy women did. Most of the time we succeeded in remaining there, but occasionally, being lower on the totem pole got my dander up.

Being haughtily summoned by Mrs. Helen Abernathy put me in a mood. Having Zinnia James request the pleasure of my company was one thing. After all, she was my unofficial benefactor and the business she sent my way was going a long way toward keeping Buttons & Bows afloat—no small feat in a small town prone to polyester and corduroy.

To ignore Mrs. Abernathy’s call would lead to trouble, seeing as how she and Mrs. James were . . . I’d been about to finish that thought with the word “friends,” but really, I wasn’t so sure “friendship” hit the mark. They were cordial, sure, but there always seemed to be a thread of tension between them.

But more than anything, I was curious. I wasn’t sure why she had summoned me, but it had piqued my interest. Telling Will about my charm and my recent criminal activity would have to wait.

I left Will and Madelyn to stare at each other, offering them both a quick wave and an “I’ll see you later!” Then I leaned into the icy wind as I hurried back home. Why hadn’t I driven to the town offices?

A few minutes later, I sat in the old truck I’d inherited from Meemaw. “Come on, Bessie,” I said, holding my breath as I turned the key. It took three tries, but it finally sputtered to life. I blasted the heat first thing. It didn’t do much to thaw my frozen fingers and toes, but it was a start.

I rumbled north toward the ritzier part of town the Abernathys called home. The house sat amidst grassy fields and slightly rolling hills. Horses meandered across the large properties, and occasionally, a Longhorn, its horns looking far too heavy to be held up by its head, popped into view.

The truck lurched to a stop in front of the Abernathys’ sprawling stone house. I didn’t dare park in the driveway for fear old Bessie would leak oil and tarnish the pristine cobbled drive.

Instead, I parked along the road, tightened my coat around me, and fought the wind as I walked up the stone path, past a little pond, over a mini bridge to the other side of the pond, and up the front steps. I stopped long enough to tilt my head back and stare up at the turrets and faux balcony just above the entry.

The Royal Abernathys.

I reached the massive, hand-scraped wood door, used the door knocker, then stood back, shivering, while I waited. And waited. Finally, as I raised my hand to knock again, the enormous door swung open and Mrs.

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