Chapter 25 #2
Katie unpinned a strand of hair, straightened it, and then picked up the curling iron.
“I’m not sure, but that’s what concerns me.
” She bit her lip, thinking as she wound my hair around the hot iron.
“Savilla’s father met Jim—Dr. Bellingham—in New York at an art gallery back in the nineties.
Despite the age difference, the two of them hit it off, bonded over shared interests in investments, that kind of thing.
Mr. Finch took him under his wing, taught him about shrewd business skills, helped him set up a successful practice, invited him into the pageant world to meet potential clients with plenty of money to spend.
I can’t help but assume Savilla heard or saw something that led her to believe Dr. Bellingham might know the whereabouts of her father, but I’d much prefer for her to let the police do their job and for her to stay out of the whole thing. ”
The two of us sat with that information for a few minutes until I noticed that Katie had done wonders with my hair. Her own cheeks were flushed and her lips set in a line, a similar expression to that of my aunt when she’d told me to stay away from that man.
I turned in my chair to face her, thinking about the idea of Savilla and Dr. Bellingham spending time together on the very night that Mr. Finch died.
“Anyway, probably just a middle-aged woman’s fears. I was young and beautiful once, so I know how it can be.” Katie tried to relax her shoulders and push aside her concerns as she finished her work.
I caught her hand as she tamed a final strand of hair.
“Savilla’s lucky to have you.” I wasn’t able to express in words how much she reminded me of Aunt DeeDee in that moment.
I also couldn’t bring myself to tell her that Savilla, along with Dr. Bellingham, had ascended to the top of my list of suspects.
She didn’t say anything more as she began applying foundation and powders and all the things I needed to enhance my features that evening.
When I looked at myself in the mirror a few minutes later, I was astonished.
“You look like you came from the set of Downton Abbey,” Katie breathed, obviously impressed with her work.
I was reminded of how Momma always said that I had nice eyes.
I could see, especially with Ms. Gilman’s magic, that the green in them did pop.
I knew nothing about contouring or lightening, but Katie did, and my skin appeared almost porcelain.
My hair had been its own beast, fluffy and windblown from the ride, but she’d wrangled it into a sort of high bun with tendrils falling around my face.
Within a half-hour, she’d turned me into a new woman.
“Oh dear, I best be getting into my outfit for the evening,” Katie said as a text came through and she lifted her phone so I could see it. “That’s Savilla. She wants me to stop by her room for a quick chat.”
“Maybe you can tell her that you’re worried about her?”
“Maybe.” Katie took a deep breath. “Do you think you can manage the gown on your own?”
My outfits were labeled by event, so all I had to do was take the silver dress from the hanger and wiggle into it.
Delicate lace ran across the bodice, and seed pearls dripped along the waist and down the skirt.
Of course, it wasn’t what I would have chosen to wear—that would’ve been my jeans and a red plaid button down—but if it simultaneously made me blend in and catch the other two judges’ attention, that was key.
“I’ve got this,” I told her.
Katie gave me one last pat on the shoulder and then saw herself out. “Good luck tonight.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m rooting for you—and your aunt.”
My heart warmed at the mention of someone besides me and Lacy being on Aunt DeeDee’s side. “Thanks… for everything.”
She gave a half-smile and shut the door behind her.
I turned to the dress. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” I said as I took it from the hanger.
I climbed inside the get-up and tried to pull the back together.
Aunt DeeDee had done a great job with my measurements, but after a couple of minutes, I’d still only been able to get the bottom five buttons fastened.
I turned around and studied the rest of the open back in the mirror.
There were at least ten more buttons climbing up my spine.
I’d spoken too soon about being able to dress myself.
I could almost see the horror on the other women’s faces if I stepped into the Gilded Age that evening with an open-back dress that should be very closed. This wouldn’t do.
I texted Lacy to see if she had time to finish pulling me together, but she was now in the 2010s, setting up the K-pop band cutouts.
Resisting the urge to beg, I rifled through the other gowns, thinking maybe I could switch them out.
I found a slinky dress with colorful flowers fanning across the front, and another one that looked like something bridezilla might wear.
The last was in a bag, and when I unzipped it, yellow—a lot of yellow—assaulted my eyes.
These clothes were suited for other purposes, and I needed to fit in tonight.
I glanced at my open back in the mirror again, and then desperate, I cracked my front door to see if I could spot a fellow contestant walking past. This was a sisterhood, right? Surely someone—even Piper or Jemma—would take pity on me and my unreachable buttons.
A light rain had begun to fall again. I looked at the black flats and then down at the bottom of the gown. The dress was so long that I bet I could wear boots and no one would know. But it wouldn’t matter unless I could finish dressing.
I couldn’t quite make out the shadowy figure passing with an umbrella, but I had no choice.
“Hey!” I called. The figure stopped, and I called out again. “Hey, can I get some help?”
I saw the person turn and head toward my voice, but the umbrella still hid their face. When they were only a couple yards from the cottage, a man lifted his head. Sheriff Charlie Strong. Shoot.
“Oh, sorry. Never mind,” I said, nearly shutting the door on his foot as he started through the entryway. I did not want him to see me quite this… exposed.
“It’s fine. What do you need?”
Nothing from you, I wanted to blurt. But that wasn’t quite true.
When I didn’t answer, he seemed almost embarrassed for me. “I was just on my way to the dinner. I was invited as a special guest.”
The sheriff had changed out of his uniform and wore all black with a high-necked scarf-tie thingy. He’d combed the curly hair atop his head, and it grazed the shaved sides. He looked way better than I wanted to admit.
“I’m off duty tonight—as much as I can be.” He lifted his jacket and pointed to the holster he still wore around his back. “A couple of my guys will be patrolling the grounds, so not to worry.”
I hadn’t had time to worry, though perhaps I should’ve been more concerned.
I studied the sheriff’s face in the lamplight of my cottage, realizing that he’d been working for most of the past forty-eight hours. The circles rimming his eyes showed his fatigue.
“Did you get some sleep?” I asked.
He smiled, appreciating my question. “A couple hours.”
“I was… I was trying to button this,” I stammered, moving my hand behind me. “And I thought Lacy would be here to help, but I guess she’s busy and—”
He turned me around, his hand drifting over my shoulder. “These are kind of tricky.” His fingers brushed against the small of my back as he struggled with the buttons. “I’m impressed that you got this far on your own.”
His breath was warm on my neck, and a rush of heat ran down my entire body.
He fumbled with one or two, but for the most part, his hands were quick and efficient as his fingers roamed up my spine, pausing for a few seconds at each buttonhole.
Moments later he spun me around, and his eyes grazed my breasts before darting to the ground.
A flutter low in my belly wasn’t helping matters.
“You’re good to go,” he said, seeming to force himself to take the smallest step away from me. “You look… you look lovely.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
“You can call me Charlie… if you want.” He halted. “I’m glad I ran into you.”
“You didn’t exactly run into me.”
“Well, then, I’m glad you desperately needed to be buttoned.” He gave a quick smile.
“How’s my aunt?” I asked, trying not to frown at him since he’d offered me much-needed help.
“She’s fine. I spoke to her about an hour ago.”
“You mean you questioned her?”
He almost blushed. “Well, yes. It’s just, she’s also insisting that Dr. Bellingham is somehow involved in all of this. I was wondering if—as a contestant—you’ve had any run-ins with him?”
“Nothing beyond the tea yesterday morning. There, he struck me as… sleazy.”
“Sleazy,” the sheriff repeated.
“Not exactly criminal,” I mumbled.
“No, not exactly, but it’s something.”
Seeming not to know what else to say, the sheriff offered a stiff bow that was both ridiculous and somehow endearing. He paused for a moment, then locked eyes with mine as he moved toward me. “Miss Green, you really are beau—”
My breath caught.
His mouth was only inches from my lips and I wanted to close the gap.
Before either of us could move, Summer, wearing a pale gray gown, burst through my unlocked door. “Do you have an umbrella?” She halted mid-sentence when she saw the sheriff standing close to me.
“I have one, but we’ll need to share,” I said too brightly, practically jumping away from Sheriff Strong. I grabbed my boots, slipping them on before I could even consider those flimsy flats again.
Summer seemed surprised by my selection.
“Don’t say a word. It’s muddy out there.
” I caught my phrasing, remembering that the weapon of choice for the killer had likely tromped through the same dark earth I’d be traversing.
I looked from my shoes to the sheriff, wondering if I could trust him with the new intel I’d discovered that day.
I decided to try. “I wanted to put a name on your radar. Cathy Peabody?”
As he turned I waited for his reaction, which I hoped would tell me what I needed to know: whether this woman’s name had been entirely wiped off the system.
“It already is,” he said, raising an eyebrow.