POTIONS, TELLS, AND DEADLY SPELLS by Abby L. Vandiver

Author:Abby L. Vandiver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder mystery
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2019-04-02T19:04:37+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Avoyelles got out of the car when Rayanne arrived on the scene. It appeared that there wasn’t a sixth passenger. Flannery is smarter than I had given her credit for.

Now the eight of us were standing around just looking at each other, Auntie Zanne’s hand still over her mouth. Auntie’s girls probably didn’t know what the problem was, she had shared the information about Miss Eugenia’s manner of death so freely, they wouldn’t see a problem.

Although I hadn’t told Catfish not to go spreading it around, he was not one to talk much—about anything to anyone—and gossip certainly was against every part of his moral fiber.

“What in the world are you talking about?” Rayanne said, her voice high, her accent pitchy. “No one spilled hydrofluoric acid on anyone in my establishment.”

Hydrofluoric, I thought. Auntie hadn’t said what kind of acid it was…

“How about we talk in your office,” Auntie Zanne said, taking her hand down from her mouth. She looped her arm around Rayanne’s. “C’mon Romaine. You come with us.” She looked over her shoulder as she led Rayanne away, “Avoyelles maybe you should park the car and wait. You too, Catfish. We’ll be back soon.”

I guessed this was her way of making up for setting off her small-town gossip wheel. Taking Rayanne inside for a private conversation. I was glad it was going to happen, I did need to talk to her. But Auntie couldn’t take back what she’d done. Good thing I was no longer thinking of Delphine as the culprit.

I didn’t know what Pogue thought, or whether he’d even spoken to Delphine yet.

“Have you talked to Sheriff Folsom yet?” I asked Rayanne as we made our way down the hallway to her office.

“Who?” she asked. She waved us inside. “Sit down anywhere. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Her office didn’t match the rest of the yellow motel. This one was classy and luxe. The floors and column that were posted on either side of her mahogany desk were white marble. The desk sat on a hand-tufted, triple border, multi-colored Persian rug. There was a crystal, teardrop chandelier hanging from the ceiling that were nearly as big as the ones in the banquet hall.

Auntie and I each settled into floral upholstered Queen Anne chairs that faced her desk. I was able to see through the large window flanked by the American and Texas flags that Avoyelles and the girls, as well as Catfish had moved their vehicles. It was so contradictory that such an opulent looking office would have a view of garbage dumpsters.

“Now let me just get my head together,” Rayanne said. “Y’all bombarding me with all sorts of craziness all at one time.” She pointed to Auntie Zanne. “Now, you said that Eugenia had acid poured on her. Are you sure? I heard she was fine when she left here. And you,” she pointed at me, “whom I haven’t seen in forever, wants to know if some sheriff has been here to talk to me?” She threw up her hands.

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