Chapter 14 #2
“I tried to stop her!” Ree calls out, spotting our table and hurrying over. “I really did, but you know how she gets when she’s determined!”
“She shook the information out of me!” Georgie declares, stabbing a finger at Delora. “I had no choice! She’s very persuasive when she wants to be!”
I stare at Georgie, momentarily confused. “What information?”
“You know!” Georgie’s eyes go wide as she gestures frantically between Delora and me. “The thing! The secret thing! The thing that Nadine told you about the thing that happened with the thing!”
For someone who prides herself on communication skills, Georgie is remarkably unclear. And for once, I’m glad about it.
“What thing?” Dexter asks, looking between all of us with growing suspicion.
I shoot her a look that says, don’t you dare.
Georgie takes a deep breath and speaks very slowly, as if explaining quantum physics to a particularly small child. “The thing where Nadine told Josie about the thing that you-know-who did with Dilly’s husband!” She tips her head meaningfully toward Delora.
Oh, good grief. Georgie just turned a murder investigation into a game of charades with a side of relationship demolition.
The silence that follows stretches longer than a theme park line in July.
Dexter’s expression shifts from confusion to something much more dangerous. “What thing with Dilly’s husband?”
“Nothing!” Delora shrieks, her composure completely shattered. “There was no thing! These women are spreading vicious gossip!”
“Fifteen years ago,” Ree adds helpfully, consulting her murder notebook. “According to Nadine, something happened that lasted about six months, and Dilly used it for leverage ever since.”
I shoot Ree the stink eye.
“What kind of something?” Dexter asks, looking between all of us with growing confusion and frustration.
“I refuse to dignify this with a response!” Delora declares, but her face has gone pale beneath her carefully applied foundation. “I demand you arrest these women for slander!”
“I can’t arrest people for repeating information given during a murder investigation,” Dexter says slowly, his voice sharpening to the point of becoming dangerous. “But I can investigate claims that might be relevant to motive.”
“There’s no motive!” Delora insists, but she’s clutching her purse with enough force to leave permanent finger impressions. “I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Nobody said you did,” I point out. “Yet.”
The look she gives me could boil the moldy Caribbean waters behind me.
“Actually,” Ree says, flipping through her notebook, “we should probably mention that Nadine also said Dilly was planning to expose old secrets at the symposium. Something about people facing consequences for their actions.”
“And that you-know-who was begging Dilly to reconsider something,” Georgie adds vaguely. “Apparently, she was desperate to keep her reputation intact.”
Dexter rubs his temples as if he’s developing a migraine. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
“I’m not discussing my life with anyone, especially not in front of an audience of amateur detectives and gossip columnists,” Delora snaps.
She signals the waitress with the authority of someone commandeering a military vessel. “I’ll have the salmon, cooked medium, with the rice pilaf and seasonal vegetables. And bring me the wine list. I’m going to need alcohol to get through this interrogation.”
“Mother, you can’t just insert yourself into our dinner and order food,” Dexter protests.
“Watch me,” she replies, settling into her stolen chair with the determination of someone planning to outlast a siege.
The waitress looks between all of us with the expression of someone who’s clearly wondering if she should call security or just bring more chairs.
“Just bring her the food,” I tell the waitress, because at this point, resistance seems futile.
Dexter’s phone buzzes, and he checks it with the desperate hope of someone praying for divine intervention. “I have to go,” he announces after reading the message. “Forensics found something at the crime scene.”
“Now?” I ask, though honestly, I’m not sure if I want him to stay and deal with his mother or leave and let me handle her myself.
“Now.” He stands, his expression shifting into full detective mode. “But I’m not finished with this conversation.” He looks pointedly at both Delora and me. “I’m not finished with either of you.”
“Dexter—” I start, but he’s already grabbing his jacket.
“We’ll talk later, Josie. And Mother?” He turns to Delora with an expression that could stop a charging bull. “You and I are having a very long conversation when I get back.”
He strides out of the restaurant, leaving behind a table full of tension, uneaten food, and one very smug-looking woman who just successfully commandeered our romantic dinner.
Delora waits exactly thirty seconds after he leaves before leaning across the table toward me.
“Listen to me,” her voice dropping to a lethal whisper, “if you think you can destroy my reputation with malicious gossip, you’re sadly mistaken,” she hisses.
“I’ve spent decades building my standing in this community, and I won’t let some failed suburban housewife with delusions of detective work tear it down. ”
“I’m not the one who had the affair,” I point out reasonably.
“And you’re not the one who’s going to discuss it further,” she continues, her smile sharp enough to cut through prison bars.
“Because accidents happen all the time at theme parks, don’t they?
Mechanical malfunctions, structural failures, unexpected tragedies.
It would be such a shame if something happened to your little business venture. ”
The threat hangs in the air between us, clear as crystal and twice as cold.
“Are you threatening me?” I ask, because I want to be absolutely clear about what just happened.
“I’m simply observing that theme parks can be dangerous places,” she replies sweetly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.”
She stands as if she just delivered a royal decree, smooths her skirt, and glides out of the restaurant as if she hadn’t just threatened my life and livelihood before her salmon could arrive.
“Well,” Georgie says cheerfully, immediately claiming Delora’s abandoned chair and eyeing the untouched catfish. “That was dramatic. Can I have Dexter’s dinner? All this threatening and family drama has worked up my appetite.”
“I’ll take the salmon,” Ree adds, sliding Delora’s place setting toward herself in anticipation of the meal to come. “No point letting good food go to waste just because someone had a homicidal meltdown.”
“Did she just threaten to sabotage my theme park?” I ask, still processing what just happened.
“Oh, absolutely,” Georgie confirms, cutting into the catfish with obvious satisfaction. “Very creative threats, too. I’m impressed by her range.”
“So,” Ree leans in, “who’s our next suspect? Because after that performance, I’m thinking we might need to investigate the detective’s mother.”
I watch through the window as another boat full of tourists sails past, the mechanical wenches continuing their clothing-optional historical reenactment while families scramble to cover their children’s eyes.
“You just watched her leave.”